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bamgyw · 5 months ago

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˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ c.bg; six nights ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

summary: six nights of emo boy gyu sneaking into your room without your daddy knowing. aberrational catholic guilt ridden catcher in the rye wannabe porn document. afab reader x softdom!beomgyu. warnings: everything, unfortunately. minors dni. heavy smut ahead. lots of pretentious writing, too. catholic guilt and imagery. abusive behaviour, parental neglect. drug use. violence. everyone is sad. i’ll keep on updating part-specific tags. index: prologue: the house of god, first night, second night, third night, fourth night, fifth night, sixth night, dawn of the seventh.

prologue: the house of god

when daddy wanted to hide something from you, he would turn to his beloved bible. and ever since you turned fourteen, he had been holding on to a passage that he would repeat to you every night before going to sleep:

"let no one say when tempted, "i am being tempted by god," for god tempts no one. but each person is tempted when lured by his own desire. then desire gives birth to sin, and sin brings forth death."

that is the only sex talk your daddy ever gave you. it was more of a sex mantra than a talk, or a warning, or even a prohibition. just a rule of nature that he wanted you to have engraved in your mind: desire is sin, and sin is death.

when daddy didn't want you to do something, he'd blame the rule on god. and there's little you could say against that.

as you grew up, you realised that god might not be real, but daddy most certainly was. a punitive, disciplinary god. and one feels much more compelled to obey divine rule when god lives under your roof. when you can touch him, and he can touch you.

when god lives in your house and his wrath can tear your flesh apart not in hell, not in heaven, but in this life; you become more cautious than the most devoted of christians. so even when everyone in your grade started drinking, dating, having sex; you had it very clear that the priority was to protect yourself. not from the dangers of drinking, dating, or sex; but from daddy, that is to say, from god.

none of your friends from school understood it, that the fear of god was not irrational. you had scars and bruises that god had given you which you could perfectly show them. but then daddy would get in trouble. besides, he wouldn't like you showing your body around.

none of them could ever understand what living with god was like, so they were the kind of people who would ask that stupid question; if god loves us, why does he hurt us?

the first person to understand god was a boy called choi soobin.

daddy had remarried choi soobin’s mom the year before you started college. she was a beautiful woman, lively and hopeful to start a second life after becoming a widow. it must be thrilling to get a chance at a second life when your first one has gone wrong. soobin’s mom could have been very happy in another universe. you felt sorry that she had stepped into daddy‘s trap.

you had always wondered how daddy had managed to get a woman like her. bright, cultured and affectionate. but then you figured that maybe, as he was god, he didn't necessarily need to be yahweh, or elohim. he could also be zeus and disguise himself as a swan to kidnap and rape leda.

you found out later that soobin‘s mom had never fully recovered from the passing of her first husband, and she often suffered from major depressive episodes. daddy saw that void in her, and her urgency to fill it. he forced himself into the hollowness of the void, and obstructed her veins, bones, and heart with the word of god.

soon enough, soobin’s mom had no limb or internal organ she controlled herself. she had once had colours, you remembered; rosy cheeks, a hazel head of hair, lips tinted with vibrant red. but daddy had turned her grey.

soobin’s mom had been kind enough to see the good sides of daddy, you had liked her for that. but you regretted that she hadn't learned to hide her colors so that daddy couldn't steal them away, like you did.

she became a shadow of herself, an almost non-verbal phantom trapped between the real world –that is, the confines of daddy's house– and the world of hopeful prayers and the salvation of soul.

the boy called choi soobin would never forgive daddy for that. but it was alright. you understood. in a sense, he had killed his mom. you had to love daddy because he had created you, but you didn't think choi soobin was obliged to.

people said choi soobin had changed, too. that he used to be a gentle kid, polite and sweet, but he had turned hostile. that, like most teens, he had become self-absorbed and belligerent without a cause or that he had gotten those adolescent mood changes so late in his life because he was an attention seeker. people say things like that when they don't understand what living with god is like.

you were the only one who didn't believe daddy when he said that soobin had a demon inside. you knew better than that, you knew that daddy saw demons everywhere. but soobin’s own mom believed it. when daddy tried to exorcise the demon away from soobin with fist and blood, she looked away.

all that soobin had wanted by acting up against daddy was to save his mom. to bring her back from the dead. but after that betrayal, he stopped trying.

soobin had never been violent towards you, though. not once. not even mean. you were the only one who understood him, the only one who told him he wasn't evil. you knew that god's tyrannical rule could break a person, fill them with hate. and so soobin and you became close, often talking against god. every whispered defamation, every blasphemy, the danger of it felt so exciting. not because of the mischievous sin, or because of the disobedience, but because you felt like you could speak your mind at last.

your first kiss was soobin. you felt loved when it happened, something you realised you weren't used to. the feeling bloomed throughout the following week as you hid from god's watchful eye to be together.

soobin told you a hundred times that you were the most beautiful girl in the world, kissing all over your face, clasping you as close to him as he humanly could. he would sneak his hand under your skirt and whisper, "don't think about him right now. it's just you and me." and though his touch never went very far in the magnitude scale of sin and punishment, it was enough to breathe a new life into you.

you sensed that a big part of why soobin wanted you so bad was because he got turned on at the idea of defying daddy, and groping his holy daughter was the greatest offence he could commit. but that was alright. you felt the same way. and you hoped that that hate-induced lust would turn into love, in time. you could then be happier, even in the house of god.

or you could have been happier. because god is omnipresent. and he would soon act to see you separated. the blossoming flower was brutally ripped from the soil.

when daddy found out, he locked himself into the master bedroom with soobin one morning and didn't let him go until the sun began to hide. soobin left that room broken and dead in life, just like his mom, but he didn't have one single bruise. maybe daddy really was god, after all.

soobin never talked to you again. spoken, yes, but it was hollow. you never felt loved again. you learned a lesson that day: your pleasure brings pain to everyone around. the mantra became true. desire is sin, and sin is death.

so if there was any need left in your body to touch, to kiss, to lick, to possess or be possessed; you confined it to the darkest pit of your ribcage, way past your heart, never to be accessed again.

until choi beomgyu came around.

he was the second person to understand god. but he had brought his lesson learned from home. he knew god’s ways even before he met daddy. he had a god of his own. you called yours daddy, he called his ‘that narcissistic sadist’. but strangely enough, you felt like they meant the same thing.

choi beomgyu was sort of soobin's friend, if you could even call it that. they never labeled each other as such, never sought out each other's company for the sake of friendship. they just wanted to live through their loneliness while sitting in the same room.

beomgyu’s dad was a dealer. he made a living out of ruining people's lives, as beomgyu saw it. growing up, he had promised himself that he would never be like that, the kind of person who doesn't care about poisoning someone's body if that meant keeping the cash flowing. but as he grew up, he learned that it wasn't all black or white. that all of those fools kept showing at his father’s doorstep, like they had no other choice. like they enjoyed hurting themselves.

beomgyu, like soobin, had become hateful. one of the things that bothered him the most was the "why me?" question. how unlucky he could have been to be born of such a father. but then again, he could run away. he could sort his shit out, get a job, never see his father again. but he kept going back. like he had no choice. like he, too, enjoyed hurting himself.

his dad barely knew he existed, and if beomgyu ever tried to make himself heard, he would silence him in cold blood. so any semblance of love or validation beomgyu could aspire to, he sought out with mathematically strategised plans. he craved the drug of attention and knew exactly where to get it.

he'd linger around fancy schools and church events, scoping out a certain type of girl. there was always a few of them going through a rebellious phase, desperate to go out with a bad boy and piss off their high-official dad.

it didn't take much effort for him to get what he wanted. he was handsome enough to make it easy, and even though he was a spiteful nihilist, he could be charming on command. just a smirk, a tousle of the hair, and some cheesy lines like, "i'm messed up, but with you, i feel like maybe i could be better," or "you're too beautiful for a screw-up like me." and he would have them wrapped around his finger.

he would bring them over to his place and fuck them rough on his drug-money-bought mattress. if there was shouting, or a gunshot coming from another part of the house, he'd fuck into them harder, muffling their fear with a rough kiss, using their panic to fuel his own twisted thrill. you fucking scared? i've gone through this crap every day since i was a kid.

if he could crack the shell of a privileged princess, dragging someone along with him down to his mud, his pain would slightly numb out.

for just a little, but never enough.

that pattern of behavior didn't lead to happiness. not even to satisfaction. it was a vindictive way of muffling his pain with the aching moans of someone who had it easier. but in reality, it only pierced what was left of his soul, making him even more hollow. it was soobin who made him realize that.

until that day, beomgyu saw soobin as almost a kid—pitifully weak and too sheltered. but when he told him about his exploits of going after posh girls, soobin didn't applaud in shared bitterness as he often did.

beomgyu explained to him how hard he got seeing the fear in their eyes as they realised that the life he led, that freedom of the rebel, wasn't as cute and bohemian as they had romanticised.

soobin responded curtly. "and then what? you cum, the spell wears off and you stare at the ceiling in silence, thinking of how miserable you are." he said. "and then you feel guilty for being a piece of shit and using that girl as a blow-up doll. and because of that you feel even worse about yourself, which means becoming more hateful and ruining more people. its not a you thing, you're not that special. that loop has been said and done. probably how your dad feels after beating on you."

beomgyu was taken aback. he didn’t even find it in himself to get offended. he remained pensive for a while before saying, "hyung. do you think i'm a bad person?"

soobin replied; "i think you can choose not to be."

and beomgyu took the advice. he put an end to the hunter-gathering of rich girls. he respected soobin from then on, too. soobin had therefore been a good influence, one could say. or at least an influence beomgyu was willing to accept. he started hanging around your house more, to the point of almost never leaving.

you learned about him as if he were a mythological figure—someone everyone talked about but whose existence you couldn't confirm. as a friend of soobin, beomgyu was bound from the start by an unspoken rule to maintain the least possible contact with you.

beomgyu was made aware of that rule very early on. what he didn't know, because he had been misled, was your age. that's why he didn't think much of it at first; he thought you were a kid. so, whatever—he couldn't talk to soobin’s annoying little stepsister. big deal. he didn't care about kids anyway.

this, combined with the prison-like structure of daily life in that house—minimal time in common areas and endless hours rotting in your own cell—fulfilled daddy's command to keep your life and soobin's, and therefore boemgyu’s, completely separate.

but even though you hadn't seen choi beomgyu in person, you had been able to construct a fairly accurate forensic portrait of him, pieced together from your father's warnings about people like him.

about the piercings, daddy believed that the body is holy, and anyone capable of mutilating within sin. about the music they played when locked up for whole afternoons in soobin’s room, he believed that god is serene, and disturbing that peace is a sign of the devil. he considered long hair on a man an abomination, and much like the eccentric clothes, a mark of a sodomite.

daddy didn't approve of him, and saw him as no more than a threat to the sanctity of his home. but beomgyu was quick to remedy the situation.

beomgyu was most acquainted to the ways of gods. he knew they were capricious, proud and pathologically narcissistic. so he made sure daddy could see he was a troubled young man and played the role of the lamb seeking guidance. he convinced daddy that he could abduct him, like he had done with soobin and his mother.

when soobin recounted the scene to you, his voice had sounded more hopeful, more full of admiration than you had ever heard. "he went to your dad and talked to him as if he was the buddha. said that he was lost and needed someone to guide him on the right path." soobin said. "he had some quotes from the prodigal son parabole learned, and he just delivered so naturally. not a trace of shame because when he lied to his face like that. it was like watching a play. your dad bought everything."

from then on, beomgyu became an unsung hero in your eyes. the boy who had outmanipulated daddy into having it his way. the boy who had defeated god.

around halloween that year, beomgyu and his dad had a terminal fight. it ended on a threat so destructive that beomgyu thought it was for the better if he stayed away from his father's place for a couple days. maybe a week. soobin, knower of the impotence and humiliation of having to sleep under the roof of the one who lacerated you and torn you to pieces, offered him shelter.

daddy's eyes lit up with greed. he saw the definitive chance to welcome a prodigal son into the fold. for beomgyu it was almost a joke. he was amused at how fast daddy allowed him in. so clueless and hasty, like one of the girls he used to charm into his bed.

in truth, beomgyu wasn't even to blame when he inevitably bumped into you. it had been daddy's mistake, he had let him in himself. you thought maybe that made daddy more human, somehow. that he forgot to close the back door to the prison and the devil strolled in.

but it wasn't really a matter of having let his guard down. daddy was still as stern, still as disciplinary, still as paranoid as he had always been. choi beomgyu was just much smarter than daddy.

he was a demigod, he was a promise. he was soon to make you his.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ next part

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ please let me know if you think reading about booty sex is gross (i'm doing market research)

#i know nothing happened #consider this a teaser #incoming depression sex yay !!#beomgyu #beomgyu angst #txt smut #beomgyu smut #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu hard thoughts #beomgyu x reader #txt x reader #beomgyu fic

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jetii · 4 months ago

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Promises Made (pt. 1/3)

Part Two | Part Three

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!Reader / Crosshair x Jedi!Reader

Words: 5,234 / 23,314

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! angst, hurt/comfort, themes of grief/death/mourning, protective!Crosshair, everyone is bad at feelings, this part is at least 50% bickering, smut in part 3

Summary: Crosshair is back, and you're the only one who still can't seem to forgive him. When you finally have the lead you've been seeking since the extinction of the Jedi, you seize the opportunity to escape the constant turmoil his presence causes you. Of course, Crosshair has other plans.

A/N: This is my longest work yet, so I decided to split it up into parts. But if you’re just here for the smut, don’t worry, the emotional edging is worth it! It’s my first time writing Crosshair so please let me know how I’m doing.🤞 Part two will be posted same time next week.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

“I’ll be back before you know it.” You pat Omega’s head, smiling warmly down at the young girl as she clings to you. It hurt to leave her again, but you were going to be gone for a few days at most, not weeks.

Still, her grip doesn’t let up, and her gaze is turned downwards. Things had slowly gone back to normal since you all returned to Pabu from Barton IV, with the exception of Omega’s reluctance to let any of you out of her sight.

That, and how Crosshair had been acting, which was to say he was avoiding you at all costs.

That was fine with you. The others may have forgiven him, but you weren't so ready to let bygones be bygones. You could tolerate being in the same room as him, but that was as far as you were willing to go. At least until you could figure out why you were still so upset.

And it was frustrating, not being able to put your finger on the cause of your irritation. Crosshair hadn't apologized, but you expected as much. He wasn't the type. You had already forgiven him for betraying the team and refusing to come back, but something was still keeping you from completely letting go.

It was unbecoming of a Jedi, you knew that, but you couldn't shake off your resentment.

It didn't help that his behavior was confusing. The day you got back, the others had gone about their usual routine. But not Crosshair. He was more quiet and standoffish than ever, but it didn't seem directed at anyone. It was almost like he was uncomfortable, and not just in general, but with being around you.

You knew he was spending most of his time by the water, though you never saw him when you went out there yourself. Just his rifle, sitting on the rocks.

The others insisted it was a good sign that he was taking the time to process everything. You didn't have the heart to tell them that you could still sense him through the Force whenever you went out, and his unrest was clear. The tremble of his hand, his uneven breaths, his mind racing, all of it.

The only other time you felt him was when you were alone in your room. You were trying to meditate when he walked past. You could feel his eyes on you, could feel him hesitating at the door, before he ultimately chose to move on.

The thought of confronting him made you anxious. You didn't know what would happen, and you didn't know if you wanted to find out.

For now, you just wanted to keep your distance and get your anger under control. Leaving for a few days to take care of your own problems will give you the space you need, and hopefully, things will go back to normal once you get back.

"Omega?" you ask, trying to get her attention. She finally looks up at you, and you see the concern in her eyes. Your heart aches, and you kneel down, pulling her into a tight hug.

“I know,” she finally whispers.

She doesn't want you to leave. But you were.

The mission would only take a day or two, and then you'd be back. One of your old contacts had called in, saying that she had some intel you needed. You didn't have the full story, but that wasn't going to stop you from dropping everything to answer. You'd been waiting over a year for a call like this, and you needed to see it through on your own.

So you kneel, meeting Omega eye to eye. You hold out your little finger, and she sighs, unmoving. You wiggle it, drawing a soft laugh from the girl.

You’d taught her how to pinky swear not long after you rejoined the Batch. It was a sort of tradition between you and your Master, and him and his, and so on.

The promise was more sacred than a verbal one to you, even if it was more juvenile than others. It meant that the person who sealed the deal was obligated to fulfill their promise, or face a lifetime of bad luck.

Of course, you never believed that part, but you liked the sentiment behind the gesture.

"I promise I'll be back," you whisper, "don't finish Spaceworld without me, okay?"

"Okay," Omega mumbles, a weak smile on her lips. She takes your pinky with hers, and the two of you shake. "You promise you'll be safe?"

"Always," you tell her, low and serious.

Hunter watches the exchange, nodding his approval. He doesn't understand the point of the ritual, but he knows enough to know that Omega feels better. And that you'd keep your word.

Your eyes meet his and he nods, silently telling you to hurry and get going. You straighten and turn toward the Marauder, your bag slung over your shoulder, and start off.

Before you can step foot on the ramp, a voice stops you in your tracks, and your blood runs cold.

“You’re leaving?”

Crosshair steps out from under the shadow of the archway behind you, and you spin around. His eyes narrow when you face him, his hands clenched tightly around his rifle. He stands stiff, as though waiting for a fight.

You're surprised by his presence, surprised he's even talking to you, but your expression doesn't betray the shock. Your brow furrows as you regard him, trying to figure out his angle.

“I’m meeting up with a contact for a mission. I won't be gone long. Two days, maybe less, if everything goes according to plan."

You don't want to explain further, and your tone leaves no room for argument. But Crosshair has never been one to listen to what you want.

He takes a step forward, his eyes flitting over to Hunter for a brief moment, before looking at you again.

"Who's going with you?"

You frown. "What does it matter?"

"Who's going with you?" he repeats the question, slower, a hint of anger lacing his words.

You're silent for a moment, trying to figure out his ulterior motive. You didn't want to tell him, but if he wasn't going to give up, it might just be easier.

"No one," you answer, the words spilling out. "Just me."

The second the words leave your lips, you know you've said the wrong thing. Crosshair's expression morphs into one of fury, his jaw clenched, his brow furrowed.

"You’re letting her go alone?” he asks, turning toward Hunter with an accusatory look. You bristle at the remark, the need to defend yourself growing stronger.

Hunter sighs, running a hand through his hair. He glances at you, and you stare back. You were determined to handle this alone, and while Hunter didn't like it, he understood. So you'd made a deal, the same one you made with Omega, that you'd return quickly and come back alive.

He gives a subtle nod, and you return it.

“I’m not ‘letting her’ do anything. She's an adult, she can do whatever she wants," he answers, crossing his arms. Crosshair's head snaps toward him, his mouth open, but Hunter cuts him off, "Besides, she said she could handle it, and I believe her."

Hunter's words should have made you happy, should have filled you with a sense of pride, but instead all you feel is dread.

If Crosshair had looked angry before, he was downright furious now. His expression morphs from shock to frustration, and his glare shifts from Hunter to you.

You're taken aback by the change. Crosshair had never looked at you like that, not even when he left the squad and you behind.

The look is gone before you can question it, replaced by a steely resolve. He stalks past you, his shoulder brushing yours as he climbs the ramp of the ship.

He doesn't say anything else, doesn't even spare a glance in your direction, and you stare after him, mouth agape, until you realize what he's doing.

"Absolutely not," you snarl, stomping up the ramp behind him. You move to grab his shoulder, but he shrugs you off. "You are not coming with me. I don't want or need your help."

Crosshair ignores your protests, dropping into the copilot's seat. He begins going over the controls, his brow furrowed.

"I don't remember inviting you," you snap. "Get out."

"Don't you mean thank you?" He doesn't turn to look at you, doesn't even spare a glance, as he answers.

"I will thank you when you leave," you seethe. You take a step forward, reaching for his shoulder again. You want him out, and if you have to drag him off the ship, you will.

But he's quicker than you, spinning around to catch your wrist. His hand trembles slightly as he holds it, his grip tightening for a fraction of a second before he releases you.

"You're welcome."

He turns away again, focusing on the control panel, and you growl, frustrated. You can feel your anger bubbling beneath the surface, and you know if you don't calm down, it'll spill over.

"Cross," you start, slowly, trying to keep the venom from your voice, "I don't want you to come with me."

"And I don't want you to leave, but here we are."

He doesn't sound angry anymore, doesn't sound anything, really, but his tone still sets you on edge.

"Look, I know you don't like it, but--"

"Then don't go," he interrupts, his fingers gripping the armrests.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. This was pointless. He isn’t listening to a word you’re saying, and the longer you argue, the longer it will take for you to get off world. If you don’t get going soon, you’ll be late.

"Fine," you hiss, moving to the pilot's seat. "Do whatever you want."

"Good," he replies, his tone sharp. He leans back in the chair, his arms crossed.

You buckle in and begin the startup sequence, ignoring him. You try to focus on the task at hand, but his presence is distracting, and it takes you a minute longer than usual to finish prepping the ship.

He's still tense, and so are you, but the tension is different. It's uncomfortable, the atmosphere too quiet and too loud all at once. Neither of you speak, and the only sounds are those of the Marauder starting up and the distant chatter of the others outside.

You focus on getting the ship into the air, and Crosshair stares at the ceiling. When you've cleared the planet, you set the coordinates and the ship jumps into hyperspace.

The silence continues. You hate it. You hate how tense things have been, how awkward, how strained.

You don't like him, not anymore, and he's made it clear he doesn't like you, but you were stuck with each other now. You were on a mission, and you didn't have time to sit and stew in your emotions.

"I have a job to do," you say, finally breaking the silence. "It's nothing major, just an exchange. Intel for credits. If you're going to come, then don't get in my way."

Crosshair says nothing, and you don't turn to look at him, but you hear him shift in his seat, the fabric rustling.

"Fine," he responds after some time, his voice quiet. "So what are they giving you?"

You glance over at him, startled by his sudden interest, and you're not sure how to respond. He stares back, his face blank, his expression carefully neutral. It's hard to read him, and while you can't sense any negative emotion from him, you don't trust it.

You fidget, wringing your hands in your lap. This was a bad idea. You shouldn't have told him. He was going to judge you for it, or worse, mock you.

You open your mouth to reply, but the words don't come out. What were you supposed to tell him? The truth?

No.

"Doesn't matter," you murmur, turning away from him.

You wish he'd let the conversation drop. You weren't ready for him to know. You weren't even sure if he'd understand.

"It obviously does, or you wouldn't be this worked up about it," he counters. His voice is quiet, but his tone is firm.

"I'm not worked up." You cross your arms, staring out the viewport.

"Sure you're not."

You can practically hear him roll his eyes, and it makes you angrier.

"I'm not!"

"Okay, okay. Just calm down."

"Stop telling me what to do," you growl, shooting a glare in his direction.

"Stop being so stubborn, and I will."

"Why do you even care, anyway?”

He flinches slightly, and you can see his expression soften as you hold his gaze, watching as he searches for a response. It takes him a second, and you observe in real time as the walls go back up, his face morphing into a neutral mask.

"I don't."

"Then stop acting like it," you say, rolling your eyes.

He tenses at your words, and he doesn't respond right away. You think he's finally dropped the subject, but he pushes further, his tone cold. "Why do you need it?"

"It's none of your business."

"You're my business,” he says, quick and sharp.

Then, his eyes widen, and his mouth snaps closed. He's clearly as surprised by his response as you are, and the two of you stare at each other in silence, your heart pounding.

"Oh."

You're not sure what else to say. The two of you aren't friends, aren't anything, but the weight of his statement doesn't go unnoticed.

You can't figure out if he means it.

You're not sure what to think.

"I mean..." he starts, but doesn't finish. He looks away, clearing his throat.

"It's fine," you interrupt, not wanting to make things more awkward. The tension is back, and you hate it, but at least you've reached an understanding.

There's nothing between you, not anymore.

Crosshair's quiet, and you're grateful for the silence. You take a deep breath, letting the air out slowly. You'd have time to unpack that later, but right now you had to focus on the mission. You could worry about him when this was over.

After a moment, he turns toward you, his gaze flitting over your face. He doesn't look mad, and his expression is almost pensive.

Finally, he sighs.

"You're not going to tell me what it is, are you?" he asks, watching you carefully.

You shake your head. "You’ll find out when I get it."

He stares at you for a long time, his eyes narrowed. Finally, he huffs, slumping back in his seat. His resignation is a relief, and you breathe a small sigh.

"I have to ask," you begin, eager to change the subject, "what was the point of that little display?"

He raises a brow, glancing over at you. "Display?"

"With Hunter," you elaborate, "back there. I assume it wasn't just to annoy me."

He smirks, the corner of his lips curling upward. He tilts his head, and you try not to think about how it's the first time he's looked at you that way since everything happened.

"I was mostly doing it to annoy you."

"Of course you were." You roll your eyes. You don't believe him, not entirely, but you didn't doubt that he wanted to get under your skin. It felt like that was all he'd done since the beginning, and it was getting tiresome.

"But," he begins, leaning back, "if I can't talk you out of doing this, the least I can do is make sure you have backup."

You stare at him, unsure of how to respond. Your mouth opens, then closes, and you blink several times. What were you supposed to say to that?

"That's... sweet, I guess?" You don't mean for it to come out as a question, but the surprise gets the best of you.

He rolls his eyes and shrugs, and you're reminded of the old Crosshair.

The Crosshair who used to tease you, to rile you up, just because he knew it would make you laugh. The Crosshair who would sit with you while you studied, who would make you food when you were too tired to do it yourself. The one who loved his brothers fiercely, even if he was a pain in the ass. The one that you, despite everything, missed.

You didn't think he was capable of being like that anymore, but here he was, proving you wrong.

"Well," he says, shifting uncomfortably, "It’s my job to keep an eye on you."

You can't help but chuckle at his reasoning, though there's a hint of bitterness to the sound, and his scowl returns.

"It's not funny."

"Oh, come on," you reply, crossing your arms, still laughing. "It's a little funny."

"Is not," he argues, but there's no heat to it.

You snicker, shaking your head. It's not funny, but it's nice. Normal, even. It's the most normal conversation you've had in a long time, and the most normal Crosshair has acted, and it's almost like things are the way they were before.

"Whatever you say, dear."

The pet name slips out without a thought, and you regret it the second it does. You wince, looking over at him. You hope he doesn't take it the wrong way, but he doesn't seem to notice. He just scoffs, a small smile playing on his lips.

You relax in your chair, letting the tension slip from your body. You'd almost forgotten what it was like, how easy things used to be. It felt good, and you wished you could keep that feeling.

"So," you begin, "are you going to be a good boy while we're there, or am I going to have to watch my back?"

"I'm always a good boy," he replies, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You can't help but laugh, and his lips twitch upward, a hint of smugness coloring his features. It's an old joke, and it's ridiculous, but it feels good. You didn't think he had it in him, and hearing his sarcasm again was a welcome surprise.

"We both know that's not true."

"You'd be surprised." He stands, stretching his arms over his head. When he lowers them, he looks at you again, a faint smirk on his lips. "I can be very good, when I want to be.”

He brushes his fingers across your shoulder as he walks past, and the simple touch sends a shiver down your spine. You can't help the heat that rises to your face, and you're thankful that he's turned away from you.

You're left in a daze, your mind racing. You didn't think he was capable of having a civil conversation with you, let alone flirting. And yet here you were, trying desperately not to think about the implications behind his words.

It reminded you of before, before everything had gone to shit. Back when he could make you laugh in just a few words and make you blush with even less. He’d tease and flirt and push all your buttons, and it drove you crazy.

And you loved it.

You thought maybe you loved him too, at some point.

But he had thrown all that away when he abandoned the team. He had tossed aside every moment of laughter and affection and friendship, and he'd never seemed to care. And maybe that's what hurt the most, knowing he'd so easily let go of whatever it was between the two of you.

You'd tried not to think about him, after he left. You'd thrown yourself into the missions, and you'd tried not to look back. The others had done the same, you thought, but when Crosshair came back into your lives, they had forgiven him.

So why was it so hard for you?

The answer was supposed to be easy. You’d been the one he’d tried to kill, after all. But you knew it wasn’t his fault, knew it was the chip. You wanted to forgive him, and in a way, you had, but it still hurt.

Maybe it was because he had hurt you, not physically, but in another way. A deeper way. He had left you. He had abandoned the team, and he had left you behind, and despite ample opportunities, he'd refused to come back.

Or maybe it was because, after all that, after he'd hurt you and the people you cared about, you still couldn't bring yourself to hate him.

Maybe, deep down, you were worried that part of you still loved him.

Your head was spinning. You needed a drink, or a nap, or a distraction.

"Where are you going?" you call after him.

"To make sure Omega didn't sneak aboard," he calls back.

You can’t help but smile, shaking your head. He'd never admit it, but he cared about her. He'd probably deny it to his dying breath, if asked, but you knew better. And as you watch him disappear down the hall, a strange feeling blooms in your chest.

It's warm, and light, and familiar.

And for a brief moment, things almost feel right again.

Crosshair is, for lack of a better word, insufferable. He doesn't listen to a word you say, doesn't follow your directions, and has a bad habit of doing the opposite of what you tell him to do.

He also has a knack for making you feel like an idiot. It was something you conveniently forgotten about during your time apart, and now, you were beginning to remember why you'd fought so much in the past.

And the worst part was, he wasn't even trying to piss you off.

He was just...himself.

"That's not how it's done," he sneers, leaning against the wall. His eyes are on your hands, watching you clean your blaster. You know this game, and you don't want to play. So you do the one thing that always seems to get under his skin.

You ignore him.

You pretend like you haven't heard him, and you continue with your task. You can feel his eyes on you, but you don't look up. He sighs and huffs as you wipe around the trigger mechanism, he crosses his arms as you check the power cell, and you know he's getting antsy.

It isn't until you wet a swatch with solvent and push it through the barrel from front to back, and Crosshair makes a noise of disgust, that you snap.

"What?" you bark, your grip on the weapon tightening. You're not angry, not yet, but you can feel it creeping up on you.

“You’re going to damage the rifling,” he says, pushing off the wall. He reaches for the weapon, but you pull it out of his reach.

"I know what I'm doing."

"Clearly." He rolls his eyes. “If you keep doing that, you’re going to to end up with a misfire or a malfunction, and I don’t think either of us want that. Do you?"

You know he's right, but you don't want to admit it. "No, but—"

"Then give me the damn blaster," he says, reaching out again.

You consider refusing, just to prove a point, but his tone has caught you off guard. He doesn't sound condescending, or mocking, or even annoyed.

He sounds worried.

So you hand it over, and he takes it, his fingers brushing against yours.

"Just let me do it, alright?" he asks, and the frustration in his voice is gone, replaced by something softer.

You nod, watching as he sits next to you, his attention on the weapon. His movements are confident, practiced, and you can't help but notice the way his fingers move as he cleans.

You watch as he sets the blaster aside, grabbing the canister of solvent and a rag. Crosshair's movements are quick and meticulous, and he doesn't miss a spot. What took you nearly twenty minutes to accomplish, he completes in five, and his technique is far more thorough than yours.

“It’s a miracle you haven’t blown your hand off yet," he says, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “If this is what the Jedi were teaching you, no wonder the Empire wiped them out."

Any good will you were feeling toward him disappears in an instant. You bristle, your anger returning, and you glare at him.

"Fuck you."

"Maybe later," he teases, his lips twitching upwards.

You can't decide if his comment was meant to piss you off or annoy you, and you settle for a combination of the two. You're not sure why you expected anything else from him, but the joke hits a sore spot. The fact that he doesn't realize what he's said, that he doesn't understand what he's done, only makes it worse.

Crosshair's smile falls when you continue glaring despite the flush in your cheeks, and you can sense his frustration. He huffs, looking back down at the weapon in his hands.

He's quiet for a long time, his brow furrowed. Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice soft.

"Here," he says, holding the reassembled blaster out, its barrel glistening. It’s the cleanest it's been in months, though you won’t admit it out loud.

Crosshair had always taken great pride in the cleanliness and efficiency of his weapons, and seeing his handiwork in front of you reminds you of simpler times. You’d lost count of the amount of times you’d passed out from exhaustion after a mission or gotten too distracted, only to find your weapons cleaned and ready to go the next morning.

It had irritated you, at first. You hated having your things touched without permission, but eventually, you got used to it. It was nice, knowing he cared enough about you to do such a thing. Though Crosshair always denied it when you tried to thank him. As if it would be anyone other than him.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, and it’s genuine.

He looks at you, and there's a flash of something in his eyes, something softer than the usual indifference. But it's gone before you can decipher its meaning.

“Why do you still use that thing, anyway?" he asks. “It's a piece of junk. Don’t you have a lightsaber?”

You suck in a breath, his words cutting deep. Of course he would bring up the one thing you didn't want to talk about. You should have expected it. You weren't sure why it had never come up, but you should have known it would happen eventually.

He's staring at the blaster, and you know he didn't mean to hurt you, not this time, but the ache is there, nonetheless. The grief sinks in your stomach like a stone, heavy and cold, and your hands shake. You clench them into fists, hoping to hide the movement.

You've gone quiet for too long, and Crosshair knows he's hit a nerve. He turns his attention to you, and his eyes widen when he sees the look on your face.

You're pale, your expression pained. Your mouth is a thin line, your jaw set, and your shoulders are stiff. “No,” you say, your voice quiet. “Not anymore.”

He frowns. He looks confused, and for a second, he almost looks worried. "What happened?"

“I lost it.”

“What?" His voice sounds incredulous, as if the concept is inconceivable. "When?”

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the tears. You'd promised yourself you'd never cry over this again, but it was proving to be more difficult than you'd thought. It hurts, talking about it, and a part of you wants to shut him out.

But another, bigger, part of you wants him to know. Maybe it's a test, of sorts. If he can't handle this, if he doesn't want to hear the truth, then there's no way he'd be able to handle the rest.

“On Kamino," you say, and your voice shakes, despite your best efforts. You pause, taking a deep breath. You close your eyes, and the memories come back, clear as day. "Around the same time I…”

You can’t continue, but the words are there, lingering in the air. The same time I lost you.

His mouth forms a silent 'oh', and the room falls silent. You look at the floor, avoiding his eyes, and he does the same. You're not sure how much time passes, but it feels like hours.

He clears his throat, and the sound breaks the spell. You look up, and his eyes are on you, intense and dark. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, and the apology surprises you.

"Don't be." You shrug, but you can't shake the melancholy that's settled over the room.

"You should get a new one," he suggests.

You shake your head. “It wouldn’t be the same.”

Crosshair hums, and he turns away from you. He picks up the cleaning kit and places it back on the shelf. You watch him, wondering if that's the end of the conversation, and a part of you hopes it is.

But when he turns to face you again, his expression is pensive, and his tone is somber.

He sighs, and the weight of his words hit you, his voice quiet.

“You’re not the same, either."

You swallow thickly, unsure how to respond. You’ve had the same thought rolling around in your head for months, but to hear it spoken out loud, to hear it from him, suddenly makes it seem real.

Because he's right.

You aren't the same, not anymore. You hadn't been since the fall of the Order, since Crosshair left, since you'd lost everything. And you couldn't deny the changes that had been wrought within you, no matter how hard you tried.

"Yeah," you say, and the word is heavy on your tongue. “I guess not.”

You stare at each other, and a moment passes. It's an unspoken understanding, an admission, and neither of you can find the right words.

It's then that you realize that maybe he's changed, too.

And that, for whatever reason, makes you sad.

The silence drags on, and you're not sure if he's waiting for you to speak, or if he's waiting for something else. His eyes are searching, his mouth slightly parted, and he looks almost nervous.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and there's a pressure behind your eyes. You want to say something, but you can't think of anything. You're not sure if the urge is to comfort him, or comfort yourself.

You're grateful when you can feel the the hair on the back of your next prickle, a sign of something shifting in the Force. It's a distraction, a welcome one, and you take the opportunity to break eye contact. You stand to make your way to the cockpit, holstering your blaster as you go.

When you reach the door, you pause, glancing back. Crosshair is still standing in the middle of the room, his head tilted in your direction. His eyes are fixed on you, and he looks almost sad.

You swallow thickly and force yourself to speak. “We should be there in a second."

“How do you—“

He’s interrupted by the subtle lurch of the ship dropping out of hyperspace, and his confused expression turns to one of exasperation.

You smile, just a little, and Crosshair scoffs.

"Show off," he mutters, following behind you.

#tbb crosshair #crosshair x reader #the bad batch #tbb crosshair x reader #the bad batch crosshair #clone x reader #the bad batch x reader #roy writes

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almostempty · 2 months ago

Text

The more you suffer

Self Esteem Part 4 | Pairing: fuckboy!Joel x f!reader

Hey y’all, it’s me back with more farm-to-table Joel smut. Took a while to figure this one out, but I hope you’re hungry horny bc it’s lengthy and full o’ fuckin’. Date Night Dave is back by popular demand, and fuckboy Joel finally experiences a consequence???

Warnings/tags: fuckboy!Joel, gratuitous smut, pwp, alcohol use, unprotected piv sex (that has no physical consequences bc it’s fiction and I like it that way), oral sex, public blow job, cock warming in a car, reoccuring guest appearance by dom!dave, date night dave inspo from the cartier campaign bc that's rich dave right??? au/ooc dave york is single/rich/mysterious and down to clown, jealous!joel, soft!joel, cuck!joel, jorkin’!joel, some angsty bits, no use of y/n, voyeur/exhibitionistish, light d/s dynamics, light (?) degradation/humiliation, praise kink, AU modern/no outbreak, overall just a lot of sex with some feelings in between, no beta blame all mistakes on me/adhd/insomnia

Notes: please leave feedback! Tell me all ur thots!

Thanks: to everyone who has read parts 1-3, that means the world to me

Dedicated to @gothcsz for the punishment inspo and @auteurdelabre for encouraging my delusions , and @strangergraphics for dividers

WC: 12.1K AO3: HERE | Masterlist: Here

Part 1: Self Esteem

Part 2: Want You Bad

Part 3: Kick and Scream

All I can fuckin’ think about.

It’s like it was a curse, not a confession. Joel’s voice plays on a loop in your mind. For days. You hear it when you wake up, against your will. It’s a reflex at this point. You hear it when your mind drifts at work, when Katie blathers on about who knows what on your brunch date, and it gets loudest at night when you can’t sleep. It repeats and repeats and repeats. Taunting you, describing you, mocking you. Leading you on.

Occasionally, you play the tape all the way through. Finishing the rest of the scene. Starting with 'All I can fuckin’ think about' all the way up to when that coward skipped out the door at the first glimpse of that thread connecting you. The first sign of something laced with vulnerability.

Every minute that passes since you’ve been cursed with Joel Miller’s enigmatic mid-coitus confession is torture. Slow, painful, agony. Time drags so excruciatingly slowly that you feel like months have passed, but it’s only been three days since you were cursed with this affliction when you get a text. Well, it’s practically a fucking email. A business memo.

Dave: Hey, I wanted to follow up. I enjoyed our date and would love to see you again. I’m out of town for the next 72 hours, but I’d like to take you out for drinks again when I return. I can pick you up again Thursday night, same time? Or, if you’d rather, I’ll be available earlier in the evening on Friday. If you’d like to do dinner.

Dave: I’ll be honest, though; I’d prefer to see you sooner than later.

Holy shit.

You reread the message at least three times as you sink onto your sofa. Your stomach flips at his second message, before you start trying to pick it apart, anyway.

It’s almost too…formal? Cordial? Maybe you’re just used to only getting cryptic sentence fragments from Joel, who texts like he’s rocking a Nokia 3310. Because it’s also so direct. Dave is not afraid to communicate clearly and express his interest in you. It’s not overtly sexual, but not nonchalant, Goldilocks approves.

You grin at the phone in your hand, and your gaze veers off until you’re staring at the wall, projecting the replay of your date with Dave like a movie at the drive-in. His mouth grazing your ear as he murmured filthy thoughts to you at the table, his fingers skating up your thigh, the taste of his cock sliding along your tongue, and the sounds that started from deep in his chest before he came down your throat.

It’s not like Dave wasn’t memorable, but damn, you had been wallowing in your feelings over Joel like it was your full-time job. Fuck that. Dave is a welcome distraction. You agree to drinks and let him know you’re looking forward to seeing him, before swapping to your text thread with Katie.

You: is it just because the bar is in hell for men, or is it appropriate for my pussy to flood over a man with a plan???

Katie: Can it be both?

Katie: Oh my god

Katie: PLEASE tell me it’s the bathroom blowjob guy

Katie: Is he planning a second date?

Katie: I told you! Green flags!

You: maybe 🙃

……..

Knowing you have a date to look forward to eases the sting. The memory of Joel walking out the door. You can still hear his fucking bedroom voice in your ear, but the chokehold loosens slightly. You fill the next couple of days with anything and everything to make the time pass faster. Too busy to have the time to check your phone or, worse, text Joel.

Dave continues to be everything Joel isn’t. Communicative, confirming your plans the morning of, punctual, pulling up precisely on time, and a gentleman greeting you with a compliment and opening the car door for you. You know you've let the demented demons within you get a little too comfortable when the green flags almost give you the ick. Katie’s voice echoes in your ears, and you suck it up.

It turns out Distraction Dave is just as hot as you remember–even without a jealous Joel-shaped ogre stirring your loins from across the room. He exudes a debonair charm with his tailored, quiet luxury brand look. You feel a wave of insecurity lurch in your chest before you realize he’s got you on his arm like you’re a designer accessory. He’s pleased to be seen with you as he guides you to your table in the dimly lit jazz-style lounge. It puts you at ease when he takes the lead in making decisions.

The cocktails are strong, but you’ve only had a few sips before. It’s Dave who has you feeling warm in the face. He’s flirty but doesn’t push. He doesn’t assume you will get handsy under the table again. In your twisted brain, that only emboldens you to make a move. He’s still talking, but you aren’t really listening, distracted by his neck and lips and how close you are to each other.

Close enough that it’s no stretch to slide your hand from your lap to his. You drag your hand slowly, up up up. When the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk, you feel your pulse jump. The atmosphere fades, and the noise blurs as your senses lock onto him. Dave’s brow twitches just before his hand covers yours.

“There she is,” his smile is devilishly handsome with a dark glint in his eyes, “my dirty girl.” His voice, his words, and the heat of his hand sprinkle horny fairy dust over you. “Thought about you all week,” he confesses.

All I can fuckin’ think about.

You swallow your intrusive Joel-voiced thought. Flush it away into the sewer.

“Me?” you ask coyly, batting your lashes. He hums, affirming. His hand squeezes yours, and heat starts to pool between your legs. “What about me?” your eyes have a sparkle in them as you sip your drink. He leans closer to you, nose grazing the soft skin behind your ear, and your eyes flutter shut.

“Thought about your pretty face,” he tips your chin towards him with his free hand, so close he’s all you can see. “Thought about these lips,” he gently kisses you, retreating before you can escalate the intensity. You pout at the distance when he draws back and smirks at your needy expression. “Thought I might not hear back from you with how distracted you were by your not-ex not-stalking you last time.”

An ache flares in your heart before you drown it with irritation. Garbled words stick in your throat. Something sharp and defensive tries to slash through, but Dave continues, unbothered before you can get anything out of your mouth.

“Mostly,” his crisp, rich scent washes over you as he dips into dot kisses up your neck, dissolving your defenses. His warm breath tickles your ear as he husks in a low tone, “I thought about how this greedy throat felt trying to swallow my cock,” his fingers wrap around your neck for emphasis, and he feels your quiet whimper of a response.

Your cheeks burn. He claims your lips with a hungry kiss that has your moans vibrating in your throat beneath his hand. It’s urgent and needy how your tongues, teeth, and lips collide. When his other hand finally releases yours, and he possessively cups either side of your jaw in his large palms, you’re lost momentarily. Consumed by the sensation of Dave’s tongue sliding against yours and the desire to crawl into his lap and straddle him here in the booth.

You shove away the thought of Joel that flashes through your mind and double down on your desire for Dave. You bite sharply at his bottom lip, roughly knocking your faces together as you press your body into his, demanding more intensity as you make out.

When you break apart, you feel the crazed expression on your face as you smirk at the man in front of you. “I’ll give you more to think about,” you say more breathlessly than you intended, but the message is still clear.

You dive back in, licking a hot stripe up his neck and biting at his earlobe. Your hand is back on task, groping for Dave’s thick erection when he stops you again. He tugs your hand away, and you huff.

Dave laughs, enjoying the frustration on your features as he tucks your hair back behind your ear. He’s rudely composed while you’re on fire.

“Finish your drink,” he tilts his head towards the antique glass in front of you. You down the rest in an impolite gulp, wiping at the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. Dave shakes his head softly, a mix of mild disbelief and something headier. “That’s a good girl,” he acquiesces you for following his direction with gusto.

His praise drips over you like warm honey, easing the confusion you felt at his rejection of your touch. He answers your unspoken question, “We can stay here, dirty girl, but I’d prefer to take you home so I can get my mouth on you this time.” The close quarters in the booth have you nearly nose to nose. A smirk spreads across his face when your lips part at his proposal.

“Let’s go,” you respond quickly, it’s an easy decision.

He takes you to his condo nearby. It’s modern, masculine, and decorated but not very revealing of anything more personal about him. He wastes no time leading you to the bedroom, and you’re just as eager to get him into bed.

But when your impatient hands start tugging at his clothes, he grips you harshly, fingertips digging into the flesh of your upper arms, pinning them to your sides, essentially immobilizing you as he holds you back. He has this look to him like he knows something that you don’t, and that’s enough to make you pause.

“She’s hungry, hm?” it’s phrased like a question, but you don’t think he’s expecting a real answer. His eyes rove over you before he relaxes his grip.

“Sit.”

You obey without a thought, perching on the edge of the perfectly made bed before him. “That’s a good girl,” his voice has a raw edge to it, and the phrase shoots straight to your core. You fight to keep still, overwhelmed with the sudden need to please him and convinced he wants to see how closely you’ll follow his orders.

Dave’s eyes are full of lust and something darker as he studies you, his presence looming, commanding, and teasing. “Look at you, ready for more.” His tone is mocking but coated with approval that tingles along your spine. He grabs your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze again, “You liked the risk last time. Coming on my fingers under the table.”

You nod, and he grants you a flash of a smile. It’s gorgeous but restrained and tampered back down.

"And you liked being on your knees for me. You liked taking my cock down your throat, didn’t you?”

You nod again, but his fingers dig into your cheeks slightly, a silent reprimand. His voice drops to a low growl, “Use your words.” Your eyes widen before you blink away the mixture of shock and thrill.

"Yes,” you get the word out in a quietly, “I liked it," you manage to add a hint of confidence.

The corner of his mouth twitches. Satisfaction flickers in his eyes. “Of course you did,” he strokes your cheek gently, “you did such a good job taking care of me last time.” His adoration flutters across your skin, spreading heat. “But it’s my turn now, isn’t it?”

The wicked smirk on his face makes you feel lightheaded as he lowers himself in front of you. Your knees part reflexively to let him move closer. “That’s a good girl. Spread these legs for me,” he continues as he runs his hands along your smooth legs until he’s bunching up the bottom of your dress.

Without wasting a second, his mouth is on you, kissing the soft crease of your thighs and sucking an open mouth kiss over the damp fabric covering your core. His hands anchor your thighs, thumbs caressing your flesh in a mockery of tenderness as his mouth delivers a sinful symphony sucking at your skin, nipping at you in a way that makes your thighs tense beneath his grip and spewing dirty thoughts.

“So wet for me,” he mutters as he raises in front of you, pulling you to stand so he can strip you bare. Your arms hang submissively by your sides as his hand moves slowly, down your jaw, wrapped around your throat, down your chest, pausing to marvel at the sight of your tits in his palms and how your mouth parts when he kneads them in his hands.

You wonder if you should feel vulnerable as he proceeds with his inspection, but the precision of his movements keeps you lulled. Dave’s hand slips between your legs and his fingers trace the slick seam of your cunt. You can’t help the whiny groan you respond with as you strain to remain still for him.

He snickers at your struggle, then makes it worse. “You’re dripping, you know that?” the mocking tone in his voice does something just right to you, “such a needy slut.” Oh. That has your thighs flexing, tightening around his hand as he continues to torture you, parting the lips of your pussy with his fingers, drawing circles too slowly.

“Have to stop myself from bending you over now and fucking you hard and fast.” Your body floods with need at the idea, dripping around his fingers and causing your hips to jerk.

“Please,” you whisper. You figure it’s polite enough.

"Ah, ah," he warns, pulling back. "I know you’d like that, dirty girl.”

Yes! You consider spinning around and giving him your best tempting display, hoping he’ll give in, but he seems to be a step ahead. “Lay down. You’ll get what you want.”

Dave has a wicked gleam in his eyes as you spread out across the bed for him. He’s deliberate when he gets between your legs, spreading them wide and skipping the teasing kisses this time. He drags his tongue from your entrance to your throbbing clit before his plush lips wrap around you. The suction and pressure are dizzying, and you fill the room with panting and moaning.

Your hips chase his mouth as he uses his tongue expertly, alternating between lazy circles and sharp flicks. The pleasure builds as he works at you. His technique gradually becomes indelicate, using everything he’s got in a way that makes you feel wild. His nose nudges at your clit as he dips further down. He allows you to keep rolling your hips gently as you rock against his chin before he pulls back.

"Look at you, already unraveling for me," he says, voice drenched in amusement. "So desperate. She wants it all, hm?"

“Yes,” you whine, and your moans keep flowing as the pressure coils tighter within you.

“Good,” he asserts, “come for me.” It’s a demand that has you gasping when he punctuates it with his fingers plunging inside of you. If you weren’t so enraptured by the growing pleasure and his voice, you might nitpick the logistics of coming on command–but he gives you no room for debate.

Persuasively compelling your orgasm to hit as his fingers fuck into you and he sucks your clit into his furnace of a mouth. He doesn’t relent. The intensity of his mouth and fingers overwhelms you through the violent flash of pleasure and remains consistent as you writhe and contract, coming back down to earth.

He's working you back up before you can fully recover or process his praise. Coaxing you toward another peak, capitalizing on his command of your mind and body. Every flick of his tongue pushes you higher until you’re gripping at the bed to stay in place.

The ache for release teeters on unbearable as Dave’s groan buzzes through you. You tremble, sticking to the sheets with the sweat of desperation. You’re not cognizant of how you’re pleading with Dave, “Yes, yes, yes!”

But just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he stops, sitting up.

“Hey!” you’re on edge and disoriented.

"On your hands and knees," he orders, rougher now. "I’ve had my fill."

Oh shit.

You scramble to obey, face hot with frustration and need as you arch in presentation for him. His hands spread your cheeks so he can get a good, long look at the sight of your glossy, swollen cunt.

"That’s good, dirty girl, so eager," he chuckles, lining himself up against your entrance, teasing you deliciously with the slightest stretch. "You want me to fuck you hard, don’t you?"

"Yes," you breathe, the word spilling out before you form a thought.

"That’s what I thought." He pushes inside you in one smooth, hard thrust, and you gasp as he fills you completely, stretching you wide. He pauses only long enough to feel your walls rippling with contractions around the length of him, confirming his prediction. “Yeah, knew this tight little cunt would take me so well.”

You can only hum mindlessly in response before he sets a rough pace. Gripping firmly at your hips, he keeps you in place as he drives into you, grunting with the force as his hips smack against your ass, adding more lewd noise to the moans and single-syllable words you cry out.

You’re slipping away in the feeling of him pounding into you from behind. So mindless as your body bounces off of him that, for a split second, your tortured mind drifts to Joel. Joel’s voice and his filthy mouth, how he always gets you to beg for more. You tense up, eyes wide, hoping you haven’t said his name in your stupor.

Mercifully, Dave doesn’t seem to react. He continues at the same pace until his hand slides up your spine, gripping the back of your neck as he knocks your legs wider with his, angling you lower and thrusting even deeper inside of you. It’s a sharp, blinding need to come that possesses you.

“Don’t stop,” you plead between gasping breaths.

He gives you a slap for that. The sting has your eyes nearly rolling back like a caricature. Dave is launched closer to his own release because of your desperation, your ass jiggling, and his view of his cock disappearing inside of you over and over in time with your moans.

He gives you exactly what you need as you shift, letting your weight fall into your shoulders so you can snake your hand back to swirl your fingers over your clit with precision, quickly bringing yourself to the peak. You fall apart around him as he grips your hips forcefully, using you as he needs while waves of pleasure debilitate you.

He doesn’t slow down, pounding into you until his own release verges on crashing into him, and with a low, strained sound, he pulls out. The wet sounds of his fist are drowned out by the groan you both make as you collapse without his support, and he comes across your ass and lower back.

For a moment, neither of you moves, both panting as you come down from the high. Then, with a satisfied hum, he leans down and presses a soft, almost tender kiss to your shoulder. "Good girl," he murmurs, a soothing balm after the intensity. And, when he returns with a warm washcloth to clean you up, you feel glowy and drunk in his bed.

Dave drives you home, at your request, and walks you to your door like a gentleman. He repeats that he would be happy to see you again.

And he does.

You both get what you want out of the arrangement. Neither of you wants a relationship and has an interest in an emotional connection. Dave isn’t always available, but he’s communicative and arranges to pick you up once or twice a week when he’s free.

He always offers to take you for drinks or dinner at his favorite spots. Some nights, you just ask him to take you straight to his perfectly made bed. The nights you desperately need him to fuck Joel’s voice out of your head.

It works, for the most part, as the weeks pass. Katie rolls her eyes at you when you claim you prefer your weekly dick appointments to a real relationship, but her judgment fades when you give her a juicy detail or two about the things Dave says to you in bed. You’re grateful to have an easy out to redirect her because you don’t feel strong enough to let her see the festering wound in your chest, still refusing to let go of Joel.

Most days, it’s dull enough to manage. It’s more of a cruel joke when you hear Joel’s voice in your head first thing upon waking. When your phone buzzes and your heart stutters, you laugh bitterly at yourself for thinking it could be that stubborn asshole. It’s never him. You don’t hear from him. You don’t reach out. You consider blocking him altogether but can’t bring yourself to do it. You don’t see him on any nights out with Katie.

You bite your tongue when you see Tommy at another karaoke night. You can’t ask about Joel, nobody knew you had been seeing each other, if that’s what you could even call it. You strategically keep yourself on the opposite end of the table from Tommy, hoping to stay out of earshot if he mentions the man haunting your thoughts.

But as you drink your feelings one after another, they evolve. Anger swirls as you think of texting Joel and calling him out for being a gutless wonder. You pull out your phone and open your messages, rereading the last text from him.

Joel: Miss me?

Out of context, the two words trip you up momentarily. Even though you’ve reread them more times than you’d like to admit. And replayed that night more than you can stand. You don’t type anything to him. Your anger still burns in your gut.

You attempt to engage with your friends, but it’s all for show. You can’t stop glancing towards Tommy, the door, or your phone. Your anger converts into something you can’t escape.

After one more drink, your vision keeps getting blurry, not exactly from the booze.

You try to blink back the tears in your waterline, excusing yourself from the group and dashing for the bathroom. Something messy and hurt and possesses you. Destabilizing you entirely as you feel yourself breaking down.

Weaving between bodies until you’re slamming into a stall and collapsing into a wobbly-limbed mess. Ugly sobs rip through your diaphragm, stirring up the most vulnerable fears and a cruel internal voice. Why are you hung up on someone that treated you like shit? You think it’s what you deserve? You can’t even move on? You still can’t stand up for yourself?

Someone else enters the bathroom, and you try to hold yourself together, but they catch your sobs and ask if you’re alright. You do your best to assure the stranger that you’re okay.

“If he makes you feel like that, he ain’t worth it, hon’,” she offers before leaving you with your thoughts in the bathroom.

You know she meant it to be helpful, but it knocks you deeper into your feelings. You’re upset, and for what? Does he even care? Has he actually thought of you even once? He isn’t worth it. He isn’t worth it, and you still can’t stop the tears pathetically streaming down your face. It hurts even worse to know you shouldn’t care.

You stand up, and your head spins, not just from the emotional agony but from the alcohol. When you not-so-gracefully emerge and see yourself in the mirror, you nearly lock yourself back in the stall and vow to live here now. You can’t return to the table with your eyes that swollen and red and your mascara rubbed away.

You don’t want to be seen at all. You want to be left in bed to wrestle with your self-esteem and crippling grief over something that never existed.

You pull out your phone, only dropping it once before sending off your hail Mary, hoping Dave can pick you up.

Where?

The response is almost instant. You send off the name of the bar and do your best to make yourself look presentable before marching back towards your friends. You give Katie a quick hug from the side, yell-whispering into her ear that Dave is picking you up and you’ll text her tomorrow, before you slip away as quickly as you can manage. Bouncing off the back of a chair on your mission to get outside.

You lean against the cool brick wall, eyes closed, taking deep breaths of the crisp fall air as you wait for your ride. You can hear the bass from another club across the street and the laughs and shouts from the gaggle of smokers gathered further up the block. You feel syrupy and wrung out, but you aren’t going to be sick. You just need to get home.

“You alright?” A smooth voice cuts into your thoughts. You jerk your head more dramatically than you intended, taking in Tommy’s concerned brown eyes with a sigh. Of course.

“Just waiting for my ride,” you do your best to act sober and emotionally stable. Whatever that looks like.

“I’ll wait with you,” he decides.

Your shoulders drop. You must not be very convincing. “Really, I’m fine,” you add, leaning your head against the wall.

“Right,” he steps back but doesn’t leave. He lights a cigarette and allows you the silence as he smokes alongside you. It’s kind, you suppose, not wanting to leave you alone on the street. But he’s the last person you want to be next to right now. Or maybe second to last, you realize when he laughs and steps forward with a wave, drawing your attention to a scene that stops your heart.

A familiar truck pulls up to the curb in front of you, and you take back your earlier assessment. You feel like you are gonna be sick. Your stomach lurches, and you feel the panic rising in your throat.

“What are you doing here?” Tommy shouts, “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, like maybe if you keep them closed, you’ll blend in with the wall.

“Just giving a friend a ride,” Joel responds gruffly from inside his truck. Your plan immediately fails. His voice compels you to look at him.

Some unspoken fucking sibling communication happens between the two of them, and then Joel is staring at you. Unreadable. “You getting in?” he hollers at you.

“No,” you mumble barely audible. You clear your throat, feeling hoarse, and try again. “I’m waiting for my ride.”

“I think it’s here, darlin’,” Tommy says as he steps towards you to usher you towards Joel’s truck. You shrug him off, pulling out your phone to check your messages. To see how long it’s been since you told Dave your location.

You didn’t.

You texted Joel.

You’re mortified. No, no, no. This cannot be real. You didn’t text this hot nightmare. There’s no way he would’ve responded.

He did.

Joel: Where?

You’re still shaking your head and trying to wrap your head around the situation. You’re the architect of your own worst nightmare now. A disaster asking to be rescued by the guy who knows exactly how to twist the knife in your gut. You’re spiraling inwards.

Completely unaware of the exchange between Joel and Tommy. Or how gone, you look to them.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel mutters at Tommy as he comes round to help you into the truck. “What’d she have?”

“Hey,” Tommy defends, “I just came outside, and she said she was waitin’ on her ride. I don’t know shit.”

“Figures,” he’s still grumbling as he shuts the door. You’re in shock as you sit in the cab of Joel’s truck. The only other time you were inside was the night you met.

“Shit,” you curse at yourself as Joel gets in and pulls away from the curb.

He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say anything. Just drives in silence. Through every light, all the way across town.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, “I didn’t mean to text you.” It hangs in the thick silence. You focus so hard on keeping your breathing steady, tamping down the sobs fighting to break through, that you barely register the tears that stream down your face.

You hear him sigh before his hand rests on your thigh, “What happened?” he croaks like it hurts to speak.

You’re reeling at that. Hearing him sigh like you’re a hindrance, like your emotions are a burden like it pains him to ask. You don’t have the clarity of mind to filter yourself.

“Nothing,” you snap, glaring at his hand. “Don’t pretend like you care,” you dig, refusing to look at him, hot tears still rolling down your cheek. He doesn’t ask again. But he doesn’t pull his hand back, and you don’t move it until he’s shifting into park.

Against your better judgment, you turn to face him. Your gut twists at the sight of him so close to you. After you’ve been left alone with your thoughts for so long. You can’t read his stoic face or his beautiful dark eyes.

“Thank you,” you murmur, trying not to linger on how insane you must seem. Asking for a ride, snapping at him, and then thanking him. You cringe at yourself, trying to swipe the tears under your eyes away like that’ll make you seem more put together.

You hop out of the cab and take a second to steady yourself. Joel’s door slams as he rounds the front of the truck to steady you.

“Don’t,” you mutter. He puts an arm around you as if it’s natural, and you still.

“Baby,” he says, low and soothing, “let me help.”

Baby. It stirs the stupid butterflies in your stomach until your brain catches up.

“No,” you shove him away. It’s weak, but he steps back.

“C’mon,” he urges you, “let’s just get you inside.”

“No,” you still don’t move. Afraid you’ll fall apart if you try. You need him to leave before you come apart. If he touches you, you know you’ll beg him to fuck your pain away.

“I can’t do it again.” You muster your courage, but when you look at his face, a soft sob finally breaks through, and your body shudders, gasping for a breath, “Please.”

His face darkens. His arms hang limply at his sides before his fists tighten. The street is quiet in the dark. “You think I’m here to fuck you?”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” it’s a genuine question, but it rings harsh in the night with your uneven breathing. You fumble, dropping your keys when you finally dig them out of your bag, swearing under your breath. He grabs them before you and offers them to you, dropping them into your hand, avoiding your touch.

You mumble thanks and stalk towards your door. He stays put, watching until you’re inside before he turns to leave.

……

You get a text from Katie the following morning.

Katie: Girl, are you alive?

Katie: You wanna tell me why Dave looked an awful lot like Joel?

You: not really. did Tommy say something?

Katie: No?? I was trying to get a glimpse of your man when I saw you getting into Joel’s truck??

You: I texted the wrong number

Katie: ….

Katie: Uh, unless you’ve got him in your phone as Daddy Joel (real) I don’t think those letters are that close together babe

Katie: WAIT

Katie: When did you get Joel’s number? He barely talks to anyone!

Kate: Don’t answer that, I’m coming over and bribing you with a hangover cure bacon egg n’ cheese and you’re telling me everything

You: and a cold brew?

Katie: Duh

…………..

“Fuck,” Joel grumbles when he hears a knock at his door. He knows exactly what this is. He lets Tommy in without a word and tromps back to his kitchen to get another coffee before his interrogation starts. He sits at the table, and levels the darkest “don’t start with me” glare he can, but his idiot brother has always been immune.

…………….

“What do you mean?” you whine at Katie from your side of the couch. “There’s no use trying to talk to him; he’s emotionally constipated, and he only wants one thing from me.”

“Maybe there’s more to him,” she suggests vaguely.

“You were the one telling me to drop him and move on anyway!” you argue like a child.

“I didn’t know it was him!”

“How does that change anything?” you glare at her. Katie chews at her lip while you devour the last of your breakfast sandwich. It’s cold. You had been so wrapped up in your recollection of the ups and downs of your non-relatioinship with Joel you forgot to finish eating while it was fresh. It feels like a stupid metaphor about how he forgot to take care of yourself when you were drawn into his toxic cycle.

You thought confessing would reduce the weight on your chest. You weren’t prepared for Katie to add to your delusion.

“I don’t think it’s really my place to share his… baggage,” she muses.

“Since when?” you cut her a nasty look.

“I just think,” she pauses, and you ball up the foil from your sandwich and throw it at her, earning you a glare, “It’s complicated.”

“Okay, Avril Lavigne,” you mock. “You’re the worst, and this is not helpful! You’ve gotta give me something. Is he married? Am I the mistress? Is he a felon? A drug dealer?”

“You think I wouldn’t warn you about any of those?”

“I don’t know. I never thought you’d be taking his side,” you say in a serious tone.

“I’m not defending him!” She holds up her hands in surrender. “You deserve better than fuckboy behavior from a grown man.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s just,” he considers her words as your eyes narrow, “it seemed like it meant more than that. You were practically glowing half the summer.”

“And a lifeless zombie the rest of the time?”

“A cute zombie?” she shrugs. “I’m serious, though. Do you think he’d show up to rescue anyone else–no questions asked? That fast?” her words get softer.

“I don’t know,” you mutter, draping yourself miserably along the end of the couch, trying not to think about the times Joel bent you over the armrest. “I don’t know him at all, really.”

“Do you want to?”

Yes! A naive part of you shouts, hopeful and bright, blind to the reality of your situation. Oh, no. Definitely not. You dropkick that idea right to the back of your mind. Ignoring the way it screams until it’s muffled by the dejected, logical thoughts. “I can’t risk it,” you respond weakly.

Katie hears it. The ever-resilient part of you that tries to stay one step ahead cracks and lets the vulnerability out. You refuse to worsen the abandonment wound, but it’s entangled in your heart.

Katie doesn’t bring it up again. She spends the rest of the day with you, ordering takeout and putting on your favorite movies, like you’re going through a breakup. It helps.

…………

Life lulls back into the same routine. Except now, when you wake up, it’s Joel’s face–not his voice–that haunts you. The

Instead of Joel’s voice haunting you when you wake up–it’s his face. The way he looked hurt. The way he dropped your keys into your hand

when you begged him not to come inside. It sinks like a stone in your stomach that you carry all day as you go through the motions. It feels hollow, but you persist. Your friends lighten the dark fog. Dave’s praise soothes the ache, and he fucks you so hard you can forget almost forget.

But Joel lurks in your walls, in your skin, and you swear you see his headlights sweep over your living room, but it’s never his truck. At least not in the two weeks since karaoke night. You’ll never understand the trickery that makes misery slow time, but every day has felt bloated and stretched.

Sick of feeling sick, the following week, when Joel’s face pops up, the second you open your eyes, you curse him. Spite simmers in your bones. If he had something to say, he had all the time in the world to show up and say it. Channeling the malaise into something darker, you let your anger renew your energy.

All I can fuckin’ think about MY ASS.

You’re itching for the distraction by the time you’re getting ready for your date with Dave this evening. You know you’re going to be a menace, and it’ll turn him on, which already has you smirking to yourself. You’re almost ready when you hear a knock at your door. You frown, checking the time. Dave’s usually precisely on time, not early. Close enough, you figure, slinging your bag over your shoulder and heading for the door.

You swing it open, ready to see Dave, but your jaw drops when you see Joel. He’s caught off guard by your date night look and hesitates as his eyes sweep over your little black dress. Without a thought you slam the door in his face.

What the fuck?

He knocks again, loudly, as if you weren’t standing on the other side with your mouth gaping like a fish. But the pounding brings you back to reality.

You open the door and start before he even has a chance.

“It’s been three weeks since I last saw you, Miller, and that was an accident! I don’t know how long it was before that, but now you’re gonna show up and ruin another date? I don’t fucking think so. You’ve got five minutes. Spit it out. What are you doing here?”

He blinks dumbly for a moment. Taken aback by your words and still breathless at seeing you all dolled up for your date. You cross your arms, unimpressed so far. That’s somehow worse. The irritated look on your face makes him want to fuck the attitude out of you. He takes a deep breath, trying to refocus before he starts.

“You’re right,” his voice is gentler than you remember–It’s criminal really, “I shouldn’t have waited.” He pauses and swallows thickly. Is he nervous? That’s new. “I’m not great with words, and I haven’t given you any reason to give me the time of day. I’m here to apologize.”

“Go on then.”

“It wasn’t right of me to run from you–”

“Which time?” you won’t let him get through this easily. Not now. He lets that sink in. The vulnerability makes his eyes shine. You can sense the charge in the air like he might just run right now.

“Every time,” he admits. “Didn’t think you’d let me back in every time, but I couldn’t stop myself from trying. Knew you wanted me too.” You scoff at that. Amused at his approach. You see his shoulders tense before he lets your disapproval roll off of him. “Convinced myself, it was fine, or you’d stop answerin’ the door. Thought it’d be easier–”

“If I did your dirty work for you?” you accuse sharply. “If it was my responsibility to hold you accountable?”

“Thought it’d be easier if you hated me, I guess,” he runs his hand over the back of his neck. You stop seeing red and take him in. He smells fresh, like some over-fragranced body wash, his nearly dry hair brushed back. You hate how you feel the urge to soften just at the sight of him. “Figured you’d move on,” he rumbles.

“Didn’t seem like you wanted me to move on when you crashed my date.”

“It wasn’t my plan,” he mutters. Right. You raise your eyebrows. “You–you just drive me fuckin’ crazy. I don’t know why. But I can’t get you outta my fuckin’ head.”

That makes you smile. His confession willfully given on your front doorstep. In the daylight, without your body seducing his. You drive him crazy.

Dave’s car pulls up behind Joel’s truck. “Time’s up,” you say, “as much as I really enjoy this 90s romcom-style confession, and I really do, I’ve got a date, and I don’t like to keep my dates waiting.”

“Right,” Joel takes you in like he might never see you again, “he something serious?” he nods towards Dave’s car.

“Why, you planning to ask me out?” you’re not afraid to be direct anymore. Nothing to lose.

“Thought I’d just start with the apology.”

“Good.”

“You accept?”

You laugh loudly, full-chested. It’s a release, but it ends mockingly. “You’re gonna have to try harder than this to show you really mean it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods, turning to leave. A wicked idea flashes through your mind as you watch him turn and look past him towards Dave, who is watching you intently.

“Wait,” you call out, and Joel spins immediately. “I’ll consider your apology tonight on one condition.” He waits to hear more, and your grin sends a shiver down his spine. He’s in for something, and if it’s anything close to what he deserves, it’s gonna hurt.

…………

You slide into your favorite corner booth, in between Dave and Joel. You admire them both in the dim light. You haven’t been able to keep the nefarious smirk off your face since you proposed your idea. Dave was an easy sell, just as you knew he would be, with minimal questions and clear on the role you wanted him to play. You weren’t surprised that Joel agreed, but you’re skeptical that he’ll be able to keep his cool.

“You’re coming with us,” you told him like it was a command, “you’re gonna watch, and you’re gonna prove to me that you can behave.”

He seems to keep it together through your date. He’s quiet, only accepting a drink when you tell him not to be weird. You know the jealousy is screaming beneath the surface. He does his best to rein it in, but when Dave taunts him with sly comments or touches you so freely, you catch his jaw tensing and his hands balling into tight fists, but he doesn’t say anything.

Dave exudes confidence and control. He relishes in the power dynamic and more so, in how you’re so turned on by having an audience. Dave’s eyes are sharp, catching all of Joel’s discomfort when you giggle when you share a story when he touches you, but worst of all, when you touch Dave. “Dirty girl,” Dave murmurs close to your ear, “you want to give your guest a show before we take him home?”

Your eyes are bright and shining when you smile at him. You give Joel a once over. He doesn’t look like he will flip the table or smash his fist through it. He glowers at Dave but softens for you, swallowing down the humiliation and washing it down with another drink.

“Yeah,” you turn back to Dave, “he can take it. What do you have in mind?”

“I think I dropped something under the table,” Dave’s low voice drips down your spine, and excitement buzzes in your core, “You think you can help me out?” You smile wide as the Cheshire cat before sinking beneath the table. It’s cramped and dark, but you’ve never been more grateful to Dave for reserving his favorite secluded corner spot.

You wiggle a bit brushing against Joel as you situate yourself between Dave’s legs. The table muffles more of the sound, blending their voices into the sound of the music. You can tell Dave is trying to continue a casual conversation with Joel, and you can tell Joel doesn’t respond with many words. You find it easy enough to tune them out altogether as you focus on your mission, opening Dave’s belt and working quickly to tug at his pants until you can free his thick cock.

Before you can get your mouth on it, Dave cups your jaw and grabs your attention, “Good girl,” he husks, matching your hungry gaze. “This what you want?” he asks as he grips the base of his cock and angles it towards you. You nod, wetting your lips in anticipation. “Do you want him to watch?” he asks, tilting his head towards Joel.

You smile again, “Yes.”

“Come closer,” he directs Joel, “she wants you to watch.” Joel shuffles over, scooting down the curved bench until he can see your face looking up at him.

“Shit, baby,” Joel hisses, shifting to adjust himself. You see the mix of emotions flickering across his face. You can’t help yourself from holding eye contact with Joel as you slide your tongue down Dave’s length. You keep your eyes on him as you begin to bob your head, taking his cock deeper into your mouth.

Having their eyes on you, has you squirming. The attention and the dynamics between the three of you has your heart in your cunt. The blazing jealousy in Joel’s eyes eggs you on, working sloppily to please Dave. You moan below them.

“Look at her,” Dave speaks calmly to Joel, only a hint of strain in his voice as he maintains his composure. “You think another woman could enjoy your cock this much? You think you could find a mouth better than this?”

“No,” Joel grits through clenched teeth.

“You think you deserve her?” Dave asks like it’s as meaningless as asking about the weather.

“No,” he grits again, his eyes shut tightly, waiting for something to pass, before he can continue watching you. You see the torment taking hold, lighting a fire within you that spurs you on. You break the eye contact to take Dave’s cock even deeper. He groans approvingly above you.

“That’s it,” Dave encourages you with his hand gently wrapping around the back of your head, “just like that, fuck.” He keeps watching you, but his next words are for Joel. “Tell her,” he says, drunk with pride and lust, “tell her what a good girl she is. Think she more than deserves to hear it.” You know your cunt is dripping between your legs at the intensity of your lewd behavior and the control Dave wields over the both of you so effortlessly.

You shift to watch Joel. He tempers the storm of his frustration and arousal to make sure it sounds honest. So you know he means it.

“That’s good, baby,” his voice is hoarse, and he clears his throat before continuing, “Such a good girl.” Your eyes nearly roll back. You didn’t think it could hit any harder than when Dave praises you, but hearing the words from Joel sends you to another plane. You melt before your determination is renewed, and you’re on a mission to make Dave come. He knows what you want, and his hips tilt, rocking into you as you swallow around him eagerly until he’s groaning again and pulsing against your tongue as he comes.

The men shift, and the three of you adjust and fix yourselves, respectively, as you return to your seat between them. You’re pleased with yourself but overtaken with the need throbbing in your cunt. You don’t miss Joel’s attempts to adjust himself and squash his own aching desire. It makes your lips curl with a hungry smile.

Dave pulls you towards him. You’re buzzing so tensely with anticipation that just his grip around your waist brings a whiny moan out of you. He chuckles darkly at your wrecked response. “So worked up just from that, aren’t you?” Dave teases. You hum in agreement, letting your senses be overwhelmed by the scent of both men and their warm bodies on either side of you. “Already soaked and ready to be filled with a cock, hm?”

“Yes,” you agree, closing your eyes and smiling dreamily.

“Tell me,” Dave murmurs with a dangerous edge.

“So wet,” you purr in agreement, but he laughs again. You open your eyes, confused.

“Was asking him,” Dave tilts your chin towards Joel. You thought your idea of having Joel watch would be punishment enough, but you weren’t prepared for how Dave’s filthy mind works a step ahead of yours. You pull Joel’s hand between your legs. “Check for me,” he orders.

Joel obeys. His fingers are quick to find your soaked underwear, and he easily dips them beneath the fabric into the pool of slick at your fluttering entrance. “Fuck,” you both curse at the sensation. It’s overwhelming, and you jerk at the intensity of being touched where your body wants contact the most.

“Fuckin’ soaked,” Joel confirms like it’s painful to say it, “needs it bad.” You think the latter might apply to both of you.

“You think you can make it all the way home, dirty girl?” Dave teases. You nod, but the whiny sound that comes from your throat as Joel removes his hand says otherwise. Dave considers your needs. “He’s only here to watch, hm?” he confirms. You nod mindlessly. “You think he’d make a nice seat for your ride home? Keep that empty hole full for you?”

“Oh, shit,” you feel your face heat at the idea, “yes.”

Joel’s more conflicted than he’s ever felt in his life. He was prepared to fight off his jealousy and tame his anger. He wasn’t prepared to watch you give Dave head in public or for how fucking hard he would get watching. But the most difficult thing to reckon with is the humiliation. More specifically, how every comment from either one of you that further salted his wound made his skin boil but also sent jolts of excitement through his nerves.

“You think you can keep it together?” Dave challenges Joel.

“Yes.”

………………

Joel regrets agreeing before you leave the parking lot, but you couldn’t pay him to go back in time and change his answer. He thought the worst of it was over once you finally settled on top of him, sinking painfully slowly down his cock until your ass was flush with his hips, but you can’t stay still. You tense and contract around him, nearly blinding Joel with the heat of your velvety soft walls choking his shaft. You lean forward, trying to get comfortable, and when the car bounces over a speed bump on the way out of the parking lot, you both groan with pleasure and frustration.

“You feel better?” Dave asks you as he navigates swiftly back to yours.

“So full,” you state, desperately fighting the urge to beg Joel to grab your hips and fuck you. You weren’t exactly exaggerating the last time you had sex with Joel when you said you missed his “big fat cock.” Every bump on the road has you biting back moans, and you squirm, trying to find a comfortable position.

“Please,” Joel’s low voice is strained and ragged, “quit moving.”

You should’ve had the foresight to realize this wasn’t a punishment for Joel. This was just going to weaken your resolve. You know the second he gets his hands on you, it’s useless. You’re his through and through. You thought you were still pissed off enough that he couldn’t get to you, that Dave’s presence would keep you on track.

Well, you didn’t really think about it at all. You just felt your knees go weak when, and your cunt do a flip when Dave made the suggestion. You need to make a mental note to show him just how much you appreciate his dirty mind when you get back home.

You can feel Joel’s growl rumbling through his chest and his thighs tensing beneath you. It’s a vicious cycle. Every sound he makes is like a call and response with your body. Your cunt denounces your orders to stay still and pulses rhythmically, trying to take Joel’s cock deeper on it’s own accord. His breath hitches, and you adjust.

“Baby,” he rasps, sounding wrecked, “I can’t–fuck–can’t do this if you’re gonna be a fuckin’ tease. His hands wrap around your hips, fingers digging harshly into your flesh in an attempt to keep you still, but the pressure makes you cry out softly.

“Is your chair complaining?” Dave mocks, and Joel’s cock tenses inside of you.

“I’m about to complain,” you try to snark, but it comes out needy instead.

“What do you need, dirty girl?” He asks sincerely. You know it’s not long to get home, but you can’t think straight with Joel’s cock so deep inside of you.

“Fuck, I…” you wiggle again, causing Joel to grunt behind you, and the noise makes your pussy flex, “I can’t,” you trail off, digging your nails into your palms, trying to steady yourself. You feel pathetic right now, unable to put together a sentence and barely able to keep yourself still.

“Hey,” Dave coos gently, seeing the pained expression on your face. “You decide what you want. Your rules. You want him to touch you?”

“Mmm,” you groan loudly with want, “please, please, please.”

Joel doesn’t hesitate, hands searching immediately and yanking you closer as he gropes at your body. The freedom to move gives him power over his urges, more control than either of you expected. His breath is hot against your neck before his voice, gravelly and dark, vibrates just behind your ear, “Missed hearing you beg for me.”

Your head lolls back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut and mouth hanging open. You moan in sync as his hands wrap around your body, slipping under the top and bottom of your dress at the same time. You’re pinned, back against his firm chest, as one hand pinches at your hard nipple and the other taps at your clit. Your body struggles in his strong arms, unable to bow at the overstimulation of his touch. All you can manage is to rut your hips into him.

“You desperate to come on my cock again, baby?” he goads you. Feeling confident now that he’s free to run his filthy mouth again. Feeling drunk on your needy noises and the way you writhe for him. He carries on teasing you in his Joel-specific way with his words and his fingers. It’s maddening, and you feel lit up, skin tingling as you’re at his mercy. You can only see blinding light, like you’re inside of a star, as you get closer and closer.

You’re too incapacitated to realize you’ve made it home, that the car has stopped moving, that Dave has turned to watch you. Joel continues to rasp filth into your ear, but your body spasms in response when Dave begins to encourage you. “That’s right,” Dave coaxes you, “take what you need.”

You do. Falling headfirst into the rush, broken, gasping, moans ringing through the car. The scent of sex swirling in the air. Your tension snaps, flooding with endorphins, and riding through the waves as you’re fully supported by Joel’s arms and body.

“Fuck,” Joel chokes out, biting down into the curve of your neck to stifle himself. Your cunt still weakly tries to milk his cock as your hips twitch and jerk while you ease back down from your orgasm. You can feel the mess you’ve made. Hot and sopping wet, dripping down Joel’s cock and making you slip against his thighs. You’ve never made such a mess before.

Joel shudders and tenses beneath you. Lifting you off of him with a familiar grunt. It’s his come leaking out of you. Your head swivels, “that wasn’t for you.” His cocky attitude from minutes earlier is gone; shame washes over him. His curls are no longer tamed like they were when he showed up at your door; one sticks to the sweat on his forehead. He breathes deeply, chest rising and falling, as he mouths a barely audible apology.

It’s twisted that it stirs your need to comfort him. Fuck it. You figure the whole evening has been wild enough so far. Plus, he can take some of the emotional whiplash this time. You’re tired of being the one with that look on your face. You can see the taunt dancing on Dave’s tongue; you know he’s ready to cut Joel with vicious words, but he holds them, waiting for your lead.

It’s an unbelievable position to be in. You aren’t used to feeling like you’ve got the upper hand in the power dynamic like this. Not with Joel. Not with two men that radiate dominance like it’s in their DNA. You’d like to savor the moment, but now that you’re not burning a horny fever, you realize how incredibly impractical it is to sit on top of such a large man inside of the car. You’re all gonna end up with neck cramps if you’re in here another minute.

Despite dying to know what Dave’s holding back, you have more mercy than him or Joel. Joel, who currently can’t look you in the eye as he stays uncomfortably rigid beneath you, well, except for his spent cock. The thought makes you snort weakly, amused at your own sense of humor.

You contort in Joel’s lap to kiss him softly on the cheek. “Chin up, Joel,” you lilt. “You can make it up to me. We’re not done yet,” you nod towards Dave who smirks darkly, “Unless you’ve changed your mind.” You open the door and hop out, leaving both men to watch you walk to the door. For the first time since you opened your door tonight, you’re alone long enough to let some nerves start to get to you.

Your dates don’t follow immediately. They take long enough that you start to spin out in your head. Are you insane for this whole idea? Did you really just crawl under a table to Dave in front of Joel? In public? What the fuck are they talking about without you? You’re impatient now, arms crossed, leaning against the door frame, letting the cool night air stream into your living room.

Then they’re striding towards you. Hungry eyes glinting. Both are intimidatingly gorgeous in their own ways. Dave exudes a slightly detached, effortless, authoritative swagger. It makes you feel special when he gives you his undivided attention. Joel is raw, slightly untethered like he’s always weary from warring with his own demons, but he still wields lethal power. They stalk towards you swiftly, catching your concern as they usher you towards your bedroom with more coordination than you expected.

The door closes behind you with a soft click, but the tension in the air is heavy, as if someone had slammed it shut. Your room feels smaller with the weight of the situation about to unfold. Dave’s presence behind you makes your pulse quicken; the head of his body and his signature scent surround you. Joel watches, leaning against the door, arms crossed, jaw set, determined restraint weighing on his features. Despite the distance between you, Joel’s presence feels all-consuming. You’re mesmerized by his figure. His arms look even bigger, crossed in front of him, his broad shoulders, his pouty bottom lip, his strong jaw. You feel possessed with the need to …bite him? But, you don’t move.

Dave’s fingers trace lightly down your spine as you continue to unabashedly ogle Joel, who stiffens at the sight of Dave’s hands slipping the straps of your dress over your shoulders. He’s unreadable, but the something simmering beneath the forced calm is contextually obvious. Joel’s trying to keep his cool; he doesn’t flinch, but he shifts, unable to remain still while he can only watch.

Katie always referred to the chair in your room you designated as laundry purgatory as the cuck chair. It was only a joke, but if it isn’t perfect now. You glide across the room, tossing the worn-once sweatshirts and denim into the laundry hamper for future you to sort, offering the seat to Joel. It’s comical how his presence seems so out of place on the thrifted antique parlor chair.

You giggle softly as you spin back toward Dave, eager to find out what his depraved mind is plotting for the rest of the night. Dave’s voice is a low hum as he welcomes you into his arms, “Let’s make sure Joel gets a good look at what he’s missing out on, hm?” You nod, letting Dave arrange you as he pleases. “Pay attention,” he orders Joel, “I’m doing you a favor.” You can hear the devious glee lurking beneath Dave’s controlled tone. Joel’s dark eyes spark with something fierce as they flick to Dave before landing back on you.

You can feel your pulse beating in your neck—and your cunt—as your chest heaves dramatically as Dave’s hands move over you. His touch is both tender and possessive as he makes a show of removing all of your clothes. It’s exaggerated to eat at Joel, but it works you up just the same. Dave pauses, letting his fingers hover over your nipples, brushing them just enough to make you shiver before kneading your soft tits, making you gasp.

“You see that?” Dave asks over your shoulder, addressing Joel. “She’s so needy already. All worked up again. How are you going to satisfy her if she needs my cock right after you make her come?”

You see Joel stiffen, gripping the arms of your chair like he might crush them. He’s still holding on to some semblance of composure, but it’s unraveling. You didn’t expect the dynamic between them to hit you straight in the pussy, but you’re dizzy, humming with anticipation.

“On the bed, greedy girl,” Dave instructs. You follow without question, crawling onto the mattress, your pulse pounding in your ears. Joel’s eyes are glued to you, devouring every inch of your bare skin. It’s impossible for you to look away from him. His struggle as he works so fucking hard not to show how much he wants you, even though it’s written all over his face, is driving you wild. His fingers twitch as if he’s resisting the urge to touch you, to take.

With your head still turned, locked onto the sight of Joel, your mouth parts in a soft gasp as Dave’s broad hands spread your legs wide, exposing your heated skin to the cool air in the room. You break away from your staring contest to catch the searing heat in Dave’s eyes before he lowers, pausing just before his lips brush against your swollen clit. He doesn’t ease the ache yet, lifting his head and turning to Joel with a smirk. “Come closer. You might learn something,” he challenges smugly.

You’d roll your eyes at his arrogance, but then he dives in, tongue sliding against your slick cunt with devastating precision. You can only dig your fingers into your sheets as you arch and moan in response to his expert rhythm. With your eyes squeezed shut and your breath coming in uneven, shallow pants, you relax into the sensation coursing through you.

“Tell him,” Dave hums into your skin, “Tell Joel how good it feels.”

Your eyes flutter open, meeting Joel’s gaze. The sight of him has you at a loss for words. His face is expressionless, but as always, his eyes betray him. Sharp, hungry, and barely containing the storm inside of him. “So… feels, fuck, feels so good.”

Joel’s chest rises and falls heavily. Dave’s taunts don’t hurt Joel’s pride, but watching you fall apart for another man twists his gut harshly. You’re so close he could count the beads of sweat forming on your chest. He can taste you and smell you, and it drives him wild. Like a beast, only held back by his hope to have a chance for more.

Dave chuckles against you, his breath teasing your clit before he wraps his lips around it, sucking hard. The pleasure slams through you, and you cry out, your hips jerking against his mouth. Every nerve ending alight with sensation. You can’t think, only feel.

“She’s so responsive,” Dave gloats.

Joel doesn’t acknowledge the comment. His composure is cracking, the frustration bubbling to the surface. You can see it in the way his jaw clenches, the way his eyes stay glued to the place where Dave’s mouth moves over you with expert ease.

But Dave isn’t done with either of you yet. He pulls back from between your legs, his fingers trailing over your slick skin as he moves to stand. His eyes are alight with that dangerous gleam that makes your heart race. “Let’s show Joel what a dirty girl you are for me.”

You’re eager to obey. “How do you want me?” Your voice is breathy and ragged already. It only crosses your mind now that you’re completely naked while they’re still fully dressed. You sit up, reaching for Dave’s belt before he’s answered you. He takes off his shirt while you work diligently to release his cock. “Look at her, Joel,” Dave taunts, his voice thick with pride and adoration for you. “She just wants to be fucked right.”

Joel swallows hard. The effort it takes to keep himself in check is wavering. He’s burning with the urge to claim you, to show you the meaning of being fucked right, to make you come so hard you forget Dave’s name. His ears ring, tuning Dave out completely, watching you adjust, lying back on your pillows, welcoming Dave between your legs.

Joel is transfixed. Watching as Dave positions himself between your legs and slides into you with an agonizingly slow thrust. Distantly, he can hear you moaning loudly; he can hear Dave continuing to goad him about how tight you are and how he gives you what you need or whatever else he thinks matters. All Joel can process is the sight of Dave’s cock disappearing inside of you. Over and over and over again.

A deep, nauseating wave of embarrassment sinks heavily into Joel’s stomach. You wanted to punish him? Like this? It’s too absurd to be a joke, to be a sick prank. It can’t be some kind of trap. You aren’t cruel like that. Worse. He’s trapped between his anger and arousal. Forced to watch as Dave takes you apart, piece by piece. Tortured by his own cock throbbing painfully in response to everything about you. He looks at your face and feels dismantled by your gaze. Hazy and sweet, you’re staring at him, wet lips parted as you gasp shallowly while Dave keeps up his pace.

Joel’s composure is slipping, his hands flexing before he gives in, trying to readjust. Hoping to find the slightest relief as he palms himself over his jeans. Your brows wrinkle with pleasure, and a breathy “oh, fuck,” slips out of you. Seeing Joel so turned on just from watching you sends you rolling into a warm, vision-blurring climax.

“I know,” Dave coos in your ear as you catch your breath, “I know.” He’s still murmuring against your neck, but it’s the silent exchange with Joel that makes you smile lazily. You think he figured it out, the power he has over you with just his expressions. That he’s the one that has you breathless. “Tell her,” Dave growls over you.

“Good girl,” Joel utters hoarsely, mouth dry. He sees the glow wash over you at his words, and it clicks. Finally. Whatever it is between you affects you just as much. His punishment isn’t watching someone else please you, wondering if they really can make you feel better than he can. Wondering if they’ll treat you better. If you’re better off without Joel at all. No.

It’s knowing they can’t. Knowing you’ve been just as empty without him as he’s been without you. That it’s been his fault. He’s made it worse. You’re all he can fuckin’ think about, and he’s in your head just the same.

And right now his punishment is to wait this night out. To be vulnerable and reveal the truth. The desperate desire he has for you. He’s pathetic with it, honestly. He’ll sit here all night, show you how hard you make him, tell you how badly he wants you, describe how perfect you are, anything. It starts to pour out of him as his jealousy and anger recede. “So good, baby, you look beautiful, like a dream,” Joel’s voice is filled with earnest wonder. You beam, your eyelids heavy with lust as Joel continues. “I want you so bad it hurts. You’ve got me losing my fuckin’ mind.”

“That’s a start,” Dave commends Joel before he shifts, pulling out and flipping you onto your hands and knees. You can hear Joel cursing under his breath as Dave kneads the plush curves of your ass, spreading you wide and showing off your glossy cunt. “You see that? Perfect, right?” He doesn’t wait for Joel to respond, focused on lining himself up and sliding back inside of you as deep as he can.

Dave groans along with you as he lights up every nerve within you, and your pussy contracts coaxing him deeper. He pauses when his hips meet your ass, filling you to the hilt before he wraps an arm around you to pull your back flush against his chest. “Look at him,” Dave tilts your head to be sure you can take in Joel’s wrecked expression. “You think he deserves to touch himself while I’m fucking you?” Dave asks, shifting his attention back to you, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

“No,” you reply, resolute. “He doesn’t deserve it. But I want to watch, so he will.” Dave’s grin widens, reveling in your direct nature. He lowers you, and you adjust, resting your cheek on your pillow so you can watch. “Please, Joel, let me see.” Your begging has the exact effect you wanted on Joel when you hear the throaty groan he makes.

You squirm involuntarily when you finally get a clear view of Joel’s cock, clenching tightly around Dave’s cock. He hums behind you, muttering about how you’re unreal, and he hopes Joel can handle a woman like you as he slowly drags himself almost completely out of you before snapping his hips brutally, slamming back into you.

You’re bewitched. The head of Joel’s cock glistens, weeping with precome, enticing, and menacing as his fist strokes slowly along his shaft. You’re salivating at the debauched scene and drenching Dave’s cock as he continues to slowly work you back up. The sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the room, mingling with your gasps and moans.

“You see that?” Dave asks you, “Look how desperate he is. You think he wants to come?”

“Yes,” you reply, “fuck, yes.”

“Ladies first, though, hm?” Dave muses as he picks up his pace, pushing you closer, finding the perfect angle that makes your mind go blank. The pressure builds inside you, and the louder you get, the more Joel starts to fall apart. Your flip between Joel’s eyes and his fist pumping his cock ravenously. For you. All for you.

That sends you over the edge, wringing all the pleasure out of you, taking Dave with you as he stills against you, cock pulsing hotly inside of you, as your limbs feel weak and you sink into the mattress. You watch as Joel spills over his knuckles, cursing and grunting as he comes, and it makes you giddy.

Dave kisses your shoulder tenderly, praising you quietly, just for you, before he gets up and, like clockwork, heads to the bathroom to clean up and get you a warm washcloth. You continue to grin loosely, giggling softly, still amused by how out of place Joel looks. You see the fear flit across his face, and a cold, nasty feeling rips through you as you brace for the worst. Cruel words spring up, ready to protect you, but you hold your tongue. You won’t guilt him into staying. You can’t choose for him.

It’s a painfully long minute. He doesn’t look at you. You try not to shut down. And then Dave is back, ever the gentleman, with warm washcloths for both of you. He checks in with you softly, “What do you need?”

The words stick in your throat. You sit up and force yourself to get them out. It’s barely above a whisper. “I need to talk to Joel.” He looks at you finally, as if you whispering his name snapped him out of a trance. Dave nods.

“You want me to stay?” Dave asks. You blink at him curiously. Neither of you do sleepovers. You don’t need a bodyguard. You must have it stamped across your forehead like a holiday package: fragile.

“No.”

He takes your word for it, redressing and heading out swiftly. Leaving you alone with Joel.

Unreadable Joel. With no clues in his eyes or his body language. His head follows you, watching as you cross the room to grab a shirt. You honestly wonder if he could disappear in the half a second your vision is obscured while you pull it over your head, but he’s still there. So, you gather your courage and face him head-on.

“Can we talk?”

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retrievablememories · 1 year ago

Text

cherry bomb | part 2 | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: after your town goes into lockdown because of the cherry bomb massacre, you find out that the murderer's interest is on you. eventually, you’re left with no choice but to face him.

genre: horror/slasher, angst, smut, college!au

word count: 13.7k

warnings: major character deaths, gaslighting, hallucinations, anxiety/paranoia, grief, trauma, violence (including knife and gun use), torture, blood, gore, descriptions of dead bodies, a funeral scene, fuckboy!JK, oral (fem receiving), fingering, finger-sucking, handjob, cumplay(?), hair-pulling

a/n: this part is quite rougher than the first, so heed the warnings. same notes as the last part—not meant to be entirely realistic since this *is* a slasher. block/filter as needed. i didn’t mention this in part 1 but this fic is not set in present day; more like somewhere in the 2000s? i don’t think this fic would work as well with all this advanced technology/the prevalence of social media now

...also, i had this story all written out and then decided to completely change the plot at the last minute because i figured out a way to write the original plot i had wanted to do from the beginning. 💀 yeah…just leave your thoughts below

taglist is at the very bottom of the fic—for some reason i wasn't able to tag everyone who requested, so please reblog this fic so folks can see it

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 1

you’re standing in front of some stranger’s house in the early hours of the morning, your body heavy from exhaustion as your adrenaline has run out. this is not at all how you expected your night to end when you left your dorm hours ago. it must’ve taken at least 40 minutes to get to this house, and you’re less familiar with this part of town, which you try not to feel uneasy about. you suppose the farther away from the scene of the carnage, the better.

jungkook bangs on the door, calling out the name yoongi-hyung until the porch light comes on. though it’s illogical, you’re tense with apprehension that the murderer could somehow appear at any moment, and you hope whoever yoongi is lets the both of you in soon. so much for no longer looking over your shoulder.

a man with hair just as long as jungkook’s answers the door, looking disheveled and annoyed. “why the fuck are you banging down my door at nearly 2 am—"

yoongi stops speaking as he eyes the both of you up and down, his gaze going from the bite mark bruises you left on jungkook’s neck to the dried blood on your face to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. his expression is between surprise and curiosity. “what the fuck is going on here?”

“can we talk inside?” jungkook says, though he doesn’t wait for an invitation before pushing his way past the other man and stepping inside.

“uh…hi. sorry.” you step inside too, glad to not be out in the open anymore.

yoongi takes another look outside the door at the state of jungkook’s car before closing and locking it. “mind explaining this shit? i thought you were going to that party you told me about?

“i did,” jungkook says, his voice full of frustration. “the fucking killer showed up at the party.”

“the fuck are you talking about?”

“you know what i’m talking about. that werewolf-masked freak? he came and just started stabbing people to death. we watched him shoot a fraternity member in front of us, dude. that’s why my car looks the way it does.”

“the campus is probably dangerous,” you add. “that’s why we came here. we just need somewhere safe to stay for the night.”

yoongi goes to the window and draws back the curtain. he peeks out the small holes in the side of the blinds rather than pushing the blinds down to look outside. “and you’re certain he didn’t follow you here? i thought he only killed virgins anyway. why the hell was he shooting at you?” then yoongi turns away from the window and looks at you. “oh. is this why?”

feeling put on the spot, you blurt out: “look, i don’t think that matters much anymore. he seemed to be killing anybody who was in his way.”

“and he was on foot the whole time, so there’s no way he could’ve followed us,” jungkook adds.

yoongi shakes his head and walks away from the window. “whole town is fucked, then. come on.”

you’re relieved to be able to scrub the blood off your face and change into fresh clothes. you initially thought it was peculiar that yoongi had spare clothes ready for you to wear until he alluded to keeping them on hand for any of jungkook’s hookups that he brings over.

“sure—of course.” you’d just nodded and tried not to look embarrassed as you accepted the clothes.

even after showering you don’t feel entirely clean, though. you think it might be impossible to return to feeling anything like your former self after tonight.

the couch has a pull-out bed, so it’s not as uncomfortable as it would be just sleeping on a regular sofa, which you are grateful for. you’re still arranging the pillow and blankets when jungkook walks into the room holding his own bedding.

“i think i should sleep here,” he says.

“there’s no room on the couch for the both of us,” you protest, thinking he means to take your spot.

“i mean on the floor. earlier, you didn’t seem like you wanted to be left alone in here.”

“oh.” you try to take the edge out of your voice; it’s hard to be polite when you’re still so overwhelmed with stress. “that’ll be uncomfortable though.”

jungkook just waves his hand and dumps his pillow and blanket on the floor before going to push the coffee table out of the way. “doesn’t really matter, i think we’ve been through worse tonight than sleeping on a hard floor…”

“thanks,” you say quietly, watching him spread his blanket out on the ground. you want to say something else, but you can’t think of anything.

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

after a few more moments of staring at jungkook as he arranges his sleeping area, you finally ask, “i was wondering how’d you meet yoongi? he doesn’t seem like he’s a college student. i’ve never seen him around our campus, at least.”

“he isn’t. he works as a music producer, so he’s out of town a lot, but this is his homebase. as for how we met—it’s a long story. he and my brother actually used to know each other, so…” you think he’ll explain further, but he just shakes his head. “but he’s a good friend.”

“i see. a music producer…nice. how cool for a little town like this.”

after everything is to his liking, jungkook gets under the blanket. “tonight was a lot, so try to get some sleep.”

you nod and turn the lamp off, though you’re doubting you’ll get any peace tonight. “yeah…you too.”

SATURDAY MORNING, NOV 4

you wake up around 11 a.m. on a strange couch wearing strange clothes in a strange room. with your brain’s half-conscious state, your terror reawakens; you think maybe you’ve been kidnapped by the murderer and the car ride with jungkook last night was a dream—until yoongi pops into your mind.

you try to regulate your breathing and settle back beneath the blanket, though you know you won’t be going back to sleep.

you haven’t gotten more than an hour of sleep in total, broken up into 20-minute intervals across the hours. every time you’ve tried to close your eyes and drift off, you see the frat member’s skull bursting apart again, shocking your entire nervous system. you can think of nothing but the piles of bodies and the deaths you witnessed. perhaps it’s better that you don’t sleep; you figure your dreams wouldn’t be any more tolerable than your thoughts.

as you shift around on the couch, your whole body screams with soreness. your arms, your ribs, your sides, your legs, and—to a lesser extent—even between your thighs where jungkook was last night.

you glance over and see that he’s still sprawled on the floor, blanket halfway kicked off. he’s actually awake, his face turned away from you as he blinks slowly and stares at nothing, but he doesn’t say anything and so neither do you. with you spending most of your night awake, you saw that he was able to get more rest than you did. lucky him.

it hurts to move, but you reach for your phone and check for any signs of lorelai. none. there is one text from camille, sent 40 minutes ago.

➤ camille: I talked to Lorelai’s sister. She went to go see about a missing persons report. The police took her information but didn’t seem very concerned about it and said she might have just stayed the night with other friends after the party. Apparently a lot of others had the same idea as you. Campus is a ghost town. They’re still identifying all the bodies, so no word yet.

➤ y/n: so we just have to sit here and wait to see if she’ll turn up alive or dead? that’s useless.

➤ camille: As per fucking usual with the pigs.

➤ camille: She also told me there’s supposed to be a lockdown or something. It’s on the news.

➤ y/n: a lockdown???

looking around the room, you spot the TV remote sitting on yoongi’s coffee table a few feet away. you try to sit up, but it takes you a couple minutes longer than you anticipate because of the pain. jungkook notices the movement from the corner of his eye and turns to look at you. “what are you doing?”

“tryna get the remote.”

jungkook grabs it and hands it to you, and you turn the TV to one of the local news channels.

➤ camille: They’re telling people not to leave their homes for anything non-essential while they search for him. Not sure how long that’s supposed to last. I guess now they wanna get serious about this fucking killer? Too late for that.

you and jungkook watch as the newscaster gives a rundown of last night’s events; to your small relief, it looks like the killer didn’t try to go to the campus after the murders at the party house. the newscaster goes on to announce that the police are instating a citywide curfew, which they’ll discuss further at a press conference in the afternoon. in the meantime, they advise everyone to only travel in groups, shelter in place if possible, and keep all windows and doors locked.

you laugh humorlessly, and jungkook glances at you again. “in groups? we were all packed into one damn house at the party, and how much did that help?”

➤ y/n: are you sure you’re okay at the uni?

➤ camille: I’m fine. My roommate brought some of her friends into our room so no one’s left alone. Either way, my dad is coming to help me move some of my things out and come back home.

➤ y/n: okay, please just stay safe.

➤ camille: You too.

“what now?” jungkook says once the newscast goes off. “everybody just stays holed up for like a month while they hunt for that guy?”

you roll your eyes. “people won’t stay in their homes for that long. i don’t know how any of this is gonna work. we wouldn’t be in this mess now if they’d cared when this first started happening.”

“you think so? students would still be getting killed. the only difference is that a good chunk of people would just be sitting at home freaking the fuck out and too scared to go anywhere while the killer would still be on the loose.”

“…damn. it’s truly bleak to assume we’d still be in the same situation. you’re an optimistic one.”

“better than deluding yourself about it.”

“whatever. where’s your family to freak out over you? somebody should be concerned about your whereabouts by now. didn’t you say you have a brother? speaking of, i’m gonna have to call my sister soon…”

jungkook turns back to the TV, and you can tell he’s become more tense than he was seconds ago. “yeah, but i’m estranged from them. yoongi’s my family.”

wrong thing to ask. you wonder about the reason for it but decide it’s probably better not to pry. “ah…that sucks.”

jungkook looks back at you like he’s irked by that response, but he makes a noise resembling a chuckle. “tell me about it.”

later that afternoon, after you’ve reassured your sister veronica on her work break that you are fine and at a “friend’s” house (because you have no clue how to refer to either of these men), you and yoongi sit at the kitchen table with brunch while jungkook goes outside to examine the damage to his car more closely.

it’s difficult to eat, but you do so anyway; you don’t want to be rude by wasting the food yoongi made. the news station still plays loudly from the living room as you wait for the press conference to come on.

“so, about you and jungkook...” yoongi starts, looking at you from over the rim of his cup of coffee.

“what about me and jungkook?”

“we both know he didn’t get those bites on his neck from a wild animal attack.”

you sit up straighter in your seat, a sudden spike of irritation hitting you. “aren’t we all grown here? who cares?” you try to sound unbothered despite feeling very green about all of this. after all, you’d only had sex for the first time last night.

“look, i don’t care. fuck him all you want. i’m just trying to advise you not to get emotionally involved, because that’s not how jungkook operates. the amount of girls i’ve had somehow coming after my neck when their situationship with him doesn’t work out is starting to get really old. it’d be best if you didn’t do the same.”

you’re simultaneously annoyed at his assumption of you and flustered because you want to prove him wrong about acting the same as the other girls. you hate both feelings. “i don’t want anything like that with him. i just needed something done and i got it. it doesn’t matter anymore.”

yoongi shrugs, and you get the sense he’s heard that before and isn’t convinced, but you can’t be bothered going back and forth with him about this.

the press conference comes on TV a few minutes later. they announce that classes at your university are cancelled indefinitely; parents and relatives will need to come move their students out, and the school will be operating with a skeleton staff and increased security presence for any students who can’t leave the campus. the citywide curfew will be at 8 p.m. every night, by which time almost everyone will need to be in their homes, and it will end at 6 a.m each morning.

“fun,” you say sarcastically. “at least i won’t have to worry about finals and trying not to get murdered at the same time.”

when jungkook comes back inside, you let him know about what he missed from the press conference.

“we should just stay here for now.” when you raise your eyebrows, jungkook says, “i basically live here when i’m not on campus for classes. plus yoongi-hyung lets me bring girls here all the time, this is nothing new.”

“if both of you are gonna be hiding out in my place, we’ll need to go to the store,” yoongi says. “more mouths to feed.”

“…or i could just go home?” you propose, your mind reeling at them already making plans. you feel awkward about staying in a stranger’s house for who knows how long. “i think we only really needed to stay here for the night. it’s fine.”

“will you have people there with you?” jungkook asks. “it’s not safe to be alone.”

you’re surprised he seems to be this concerned, but you answer: “well, i mean…my sister works 12-hour shifts as a nurse and she’s the only one living there, so…” you’d chosen your university because your older sister lived in the area, and because it was a tradition for women in your family to attend that school, but there were no other relatives you could turn to. your parents lived a couple of towns away.

yoongi comes to the conclusion so you don’t have to. “in other words, you’ll be alone most of the day.”

“…i guess. but i’m really not tryna impose on you by staying here.”

yoongi tilts his head, a small smirk on his lips. you automatically dislike the look on his face. “why don’t you take jungkook with you, then?”

you and jungkook glance at each other. “but, hyung…”

yoongi shakes his head. “you already know i can take care of myself. seriously, don’t worry about it.” and then yoongi winks at you. you don’t know for sure, but you take that to mean he’s probably packing heat like camille’s dad.

“if you’re sure.” turning to you, jungkook says, “so, how about it?”

“it’s my sister’s house, so i’ll have to ask her,” you say tentatively. “yeah…uh. let me do that now, i guess.” you pull out your phone to text her about it, though you know it’ll be a while before she gets another work break and can answer. “in the meantime…i think we’ll need to go to the store either way. and then to campus to pick our things up.”

“you’re right. let’s go then,” jungkook says.

the store is full of people panic-buying food and necessities in preparation for the curfew and effective lockdown, which you expected. you and jungkook end up going your separate ways to find the things you need because it’s quicker that way, and because you want to get in and out of the store as soon as possible. the crowdedness is too much like the party, and despite yourself, anxiety begins rising in you due to the claustrophobic atmosphere. you try to maintain even breaths as you keep searching for items. just what you need—a shiny new trauma to make your life harder.

you pass by a man in one of the less-crowded aisles before realizing he’s standing in front of what you need to get, examining one of the food packages. you wait a few moments to see if he’ll finish up soon, and when your eyes begin to wander, you see that there’s a long gray hair clinging to the back of his leather jacket, standing out clearly against the black. you probably wouldn’t have noticed this at all on any other day, except your mind has been on high alert for hours now; you find it strange that this strand clearly doesn’t match the shade or length of the hair on his head, which is short and plain brown. the shade of the hair also weirdly reminds you of something, though you can’t quite recall what; it remains just out of your mind’s reach.

you shake your head. he could’ve come to the store with somebody who has long gray hair, or hugged them before he left home, and a strand stuck to his jacket. it’s the least of your issues right now.

the man must feel your presence behind him because he turns around to look at you. you’re a little taken aback by his gaze; his expression isn’t mean per se, but very intense, as if his entire focus is trained on you.

there’s a second’s pause, like he’s thinking about something before he speaks. “am i in your way?” he asks, never breaking eye contact. his voice doesn’t portray any particular emotion.

“i just have to get something really quick.” he steps aside and gestures to the rows of food without a word. you slip in beside him and grab what you need before moving away again. “thanks.” you think about telling him about the hair on his jacket but decide against it; your decision is solidified when you spot a wolf figurine keychain on his keys, faded from time but still distinguishable. it makes your breath catch.

there’s no way it could be him. it was kind of dark in the party house with nothing but string lights and lamps illuminating it, and everything happened so quickly…but you do remember the colors of that mask. red, yellow, black—and that dark gray for the fur.

but maybe it’s really all just a coincidence; how much sense would it make to turn every person with wolf paraphernalia and random stray hairs into a suspect?

you walk down the rest of the aisle and away from the man with growing unease. maybe it’s time to find jungkook so you can get out of here; you can hardly keep yourself together, and despite your best attempts at logic, you can’t stop yourself from getting more frantic about those two things.

speeding up your walk and weaving through people, you look down every aisle in search for jungkook before you find him, rushing over to him as you breathe heavily.

“whoa, what the hell is wrong? did somebody do something?”

“no, i…”

“what happened?”

“it’s the…well, the…i saw, uh…”

“y/n.”

“i saw—the mask. the fur from the mask. do you remember it?”

“…you mean that stupid ass werewolf mask?” you gesture for jungkook to lower his voice. “wait, you’re saying you saw it in here?”

“no, i saw a man who had a strand of hair on his jacket…” it starts sounding ridiculous to your own ears the more you speak, but you continue. “the strand—it was the same color as that fur. the same length! and he—he had some weird wolf keychain…”

jungkook stares at you for a long moment before sighing. “you’re not serious? a random strand of hair that could be from anybody or anything? that could be from someone’s fucking grandma for all we know. plus a keychain…maybe he just likes wolves, y/n.”

you already know that saying i just feel like something is off won’t be enough to convince him. you sigh with a deep sense of defeat, considering that he’s probably right. maybe your initial assumption was the more sensible answer. “…right. i think i’m just really fucked up right now after everything that happened. can we finish up here?”

“yeah, we will. because you definitely need to lay down soon or something. you haven’t had any sleep all night, right?” the way jungkook eyes you with concern as if you’ve lost your mind annoys you. you’re about to give a smart remark when you notice something in the carrying-basket he has.

“…a baseball bat?”

“if the killer comes after us again, duh. we’ll be prepared this time. or at least i will.”

“good luck with that if he happens to have another gun.” rolling your eyes, you brush past jungkook to go to one of the checkout counters.

in the parking lot, you see that the man from earlier has also come out and is putting the last of his grocery bags into his car trunk. there’s really nothing spectacular about his appearance that would make him stand out in a crowd, with his average height and average looks, let alone incriminate him as a serial killer. yet that familiar unease won’t leave.

he sees you and jungkook walking towards the car together, and his eyes dart to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. then he makes eye contact with you. you give a half-hearted wave, unsure what else to do with his eyes stuck on you. for a moment, his lips turn up into the faintest smile before he shakes his head and gets into his own car.

MONDAY, NOV 6

you’ve spent half of saturday and all of sunday trying to get used to living in your sister’s house with jungkook. veronica had been surprisingly okay with having him stay over, though most of it was her being relieved you finally found “a potential boyfriend who’s actually cute.” you didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

you’ve also been constantly checking on camille (to her eventual annoyance) and seeing if there are any more updates on lorelai. still nothing. your dread grows the further away you get from that bloody friday, but you try to keep your thoughts from straying too darkly.

right now, you, veronica, and jungkook all sit on the couch together in a neat little row, a bowl of popcorn in front of you on the coffee table and some science-fiction B-movie playing on the TV. your sister proposed the idea to distract yourselves from everything going on, but so far, you feel like it isn’t very effective. at least not for you. your mind keeps wandering to other things every 5 minutes.

eventually, veronica yawns widely, stretching her arms and legs before rising off the couch. “okay, i’m getting tired as fuck. i need to go to sleep for work tomorrow anyway. you guys enjoy the rest of the movie, okay?” she pats your shoulder as she passes by you on her way out of the room.

jungkook waves. “oh, sure. goodnight.”

“night, sis.”

when jungkook’s attention goes back to the movie, your sister makes eye contact with you and points her finger at you menacingly. you give her a shocked look while she mouths you know what i mean and swirls her finger in jungkook’s direction. embarrassed at the implication, you roll your eyes and turn your head back to the TV screen. having sex with jungkook on your sister’s couch is not high on your list of priorities tonight.

after your sister is gone, jungkook spreads out on the couch like it’s his own living room, placing his legs right over your lap. you sigh, looking over at him—and hoping that your eyes don’t linger too obviously on the expanse of thigh muscle that’s now on display from his shorts riding up higher.

“…really? i don’t want your big ole legs in my lap.”

jungkook just grins. “you should lay down too, it’s more comfortable this way.” you stare at him, and he tries to egg you on by pulling the sleeve of your shirt. “come on.”

“i’m not laying down on top of you, if that’s what you’re after.”

you do end up lying down, but on the opposite side of the couch so that your legs are tangled together, which really just increases the amount of contact between you either way—but whatever.

this makes jungkook laugh more. “ha, it’s like we’re scissoring.”

“so damn corny.”

you two continue watching the rest of the movie, but by the end of it you don’t remember half of what happened. taking the remote, you flip through the channels and try to find something else to look at. there isn’t much interesting to watch on a random monday night—which would be a school night anyway, if not for the current context.

as you search for a channel, jungkook asks: “what would you do if you found out who the killer was?”

you squint your eyes at his odd question. maybe the obvious answer would be to alert the police. but after days of having your anger stoked like a fire, that’s not exactly the answer you’d choose. “maybe i’d kill him.” the words leave your lips easily, and you hardly think twice about them once they’re out.

neither of you speak for a few long moments.

“does that scare you?” you ask, after the silence starts annoying you. you want to laugh, but there’s nothing really funny about the situation.

“…not really. angry women are kinda sexy. so are dangerous ones.”

you scoff. “i’m not tryna be sexy, you fool. and how many dangerous women have you dealt with? seems to me you only have a thing for the innocents.”

“it’s not like i only fuck virgins. you don’t even know me like that.” he nudges your leg with his foot like he’s also annoyed, but his expression doesn’t show any actual irritation.

“…if you want to go back and forth about it, go outside and argue with the wall or something. i’m in no mood, jungkook.” you shove his foot off of you. “just, holy shit. i wish i could have just one hour where i don’t have to think about any of this shit. my mind can’t even breathe.”

he’s actually quiet for a couple minutes after. you think he’s moved on from the conversation until he finally says, “i can give you an hour.”

your body becomes alert at that. the insinuation in his tone is obvious. you glance backwards as if your sister could hear you from upstairs, though you know that’s illogical. “i got what i wanted from you already,” you whisper.

“so? what if i wanted to give you more? you know you’re allowed to have sex with a person more than once, yeah?” he chuckles.

here he is making you this offer, and once again you feel like you’ve been reduced to the state of a confused lamb in front of a hungry wolf. you realize that the idea of letting yourself get more physically entangled with jungkook scares you. he is not someone you can turn into a boyfriend, who wants to be a boyfriend, and you are only looking to save yourself from any potential hurt. “it would just be sex—right? you have to know i’m not looking for anything deeper from you.”

jungkook smirks. like with yoongi, you don’t know if he believes you. “i know.”

you want to undo almost everything from the past few days. you can’t forget, but for a while, you want to just exist outside of the timeline where there’s a killer on the loose and one of your friends is missing. it’s too much to handle; your body is approaching its limits for the amount of stress it can take. you need a balm to numb the pain and the fear, and you dislike that you are giving into your base instincts to do so. you feel guilty, somehow. but pleasure is easy. at least it has been whenever you sought it on your own—and now you have someone else to give it to you. someone who is in front of you now, proposing it with all the willingness in the world. maybe there’s really nothing wrong with saying yes.

“jungkook…”

“hm?”

“please just shut the fuck up and don’t say another word about the outside world right now. i don’t want to think about anything but your…” you falter, still trying to get used to expressing what you want sexually.

jungkook sits up, his hands sliding up your legs and to your hips. “but my what?”

“um, your…” your thoughts end when he leans down and pulls the hem of your sweater up, planting a kiss on your waist where your skin meets the waistband of your sweatpants. one kiss turns into a second, and a third. the fourth becomes an open-mouthed embrace of his lips on your skin, and you make a small noise of pleasure when his tongue gets involved.

“careful. don’t want veronica to come down here, remember?”

you huff. “that isn’t happening any time soon, believe me.”

his kisses continue as he begins to slide your sweatpants down, revealing the waistband of your panties. once they’re fully on display, he leans forward to nuzzle his face between your thighs, his mouth and nose pressing into the seat of your underwear. his actions take you off guard. you actually give a brief chuckle from surprise, though you are also somewhat embarrassed. “now what the hell are you doing?”

“let me savor my meal before i eat it.” his warm breaths tickle your inner thighs as he speaks.

“ugh, don’t turn me off.”

“that’s funny, because i seem to have an easy time getting you wet.” to prove it, his fingers press into the seat of your underwear to feel the wetness that’s seeped into them; you sigh from the brief pleasure his fingers’ movements afford you before he pulls them away.

jungkook drags your panties down next, his lips trailing down your lower abdomen and across the curls of hair covering your pubic mound. your body fills with anticipation at the gradual pace of his actions and the purposeful, wet caresses of his mouth.

when he uses his thumbs to press your lower lips apart and expose you more fully to him, you have half a mind to be self-conscious about it until he places his mouth on you in earnest.

jungkook eats like someone who hasn’t done so in a while and doesn’t know when he’ll get to do it again. his mouth sucks at your clit like he’s desperate for you to come, tongue rolling over the swollen nub in an unrelenting pattern that has your stomach tensing, and you quickly realize you do have to try to silence yourself even if you know it won’t wake veronica up. you twist your hands into the sleeves of your sweater and lean your head back on the couch’s armrest as you arch your hips up closer to jungkook’s face, uncaring about how vulnerable you feel completely offering yourself up to him like this; right now, all you want is to feel good.

“gonna come quick again? maybe we can set a new record?” jungkook pins your knee against the couch with his elbow to keep your legs open as he slides two fingers inside, diving straight in instead of working you up this time. your body breaks out in a sweat and you know you really won’t last long once he does this, the tips of his fingers aiming for that dreadful, wonderful, and overpowering place inside you. you don’t know how people do this—you feel like you’re going to die when he stimulates that spot, and all you want to do is scream even though you can’t.

“a r-record? fuck off…” you choke out, though you begin to rock your hips into the rhythm of his fingers, needing so badly for him to take you over the edge again.

he chuckles. “i don’t think you want me to fuck off right now.”

you have no words for a good comeback when he buries his head between your legs and slurps at your pussy again and crooks his fingers repeatedly to where your orgasm is unexpectedly rushing down upon you, causing your body to tense as you gasp and stifle any sounds that escape with your sweater sleeve.

jungkook doesn’t stop there and you don’t really expect him to, because you’re beginning to learn he isn’t a one-and-done type of man. he keeps sucking and stroking you right into another releasewhile you push the beanie off his head, fist your fingers into his strands, and tremble over the sight of his pitch-black mess of hair between your thighs. something about the visual is so appealing to you.

after he has made you come for the third time, you watch him sit up on his knees to reach into his shorts and pull his dick out, his darkened tip slick with precum. his long hair falls into his face as he glances downward, using the hand he’d been fingering you with to lube himself up with your cum.

“come here,” you tell him, your voice coming out sharper than you intended; but he doesn’t care, because he follows your request without a word and presses himself into your side. the couch is just big enough to accommodate both of you in this position, but it’s still a tight fit, and your bodies are once again tangled together.

“let me touch you,” you say, your palm pressed to his stomach, feeling the firmness of the muscle.

he raises his eyebrows, like you didn’t even need to ask. “of course.”

“no, i mean…” he realizes what you actually mean as you brush his hand away from his shaft and wrap your fingers around it instead.

“should i teach you how?” jungkook brings his hand to overlap yours, though his breath becomes a bit strained when you slide your hand to the base of his cock and back to the tip again, the pads of your fingers rubbing over the sensitive head. seeing your fingers around him turns him on more than he thought it could, and it’s just a simple fucking handjob.

you roll your eyes. “stroking a dickshouldn’t be that hard.”

“everyone likes it differently, though. fast, slow, soft, or rough…just the tip, or the whole shaft.” you can’t deny that—or the way you find yourself throbbing at his words, his voice husky from the pleasure. which is why you let jungkook close his hand more fully around yours and guide your movements.

it’s captivating to observe his reactions from your hand on his skin—the heavy breaths he lets out and the soft moans and even softer whimpers that come in between the exhales. whenever you squeeze his shaft more firmly or rub your thumb against his leaking tip, you find yourself grinning at the rise and fall of his chest and the tongue that darts out of his mouth to lick at his lips. but mostly, your eyes are drawn back to the sight of your hand working him over, his thighs and stomach tensing sporadically.

eventually, you both look away from your joined hands and at each other’s faces. your eyes dart to his lips and back to his gaze again, and you shift your face forward to signal your desire for a kiss. he meets you there by pressing his lips to yours, and it isn’t hard for him to get lost in the meeting of your mouths and the heat from your palm on his shaft.

your free hand returns to his soft hair to tug on it as your tongues slide against each other. he grunts at the burn of his roots being pulled but doesn’t stop you; on the contrary, his body responds favorably as more precum swells from his tip and his nipples poke against the material of his shirt.

“do you like that, jungkook?” you mumble against his mouth.

“you know i do.” at some point, his hand falls away and he lets you stroke him on your own.

jungkook gives a shuddering moan into your mouth when he climaxes minutes later, thick streams of his cum shooting onto his shirt and dripping down your hand. he tries to keep quiet and doesn’t entirely succeed, but it doesn’t much matter.

you squeeze the few remaining drops of cum from his cockhead, trying to make sure you don’t grip hard enough to actually hurt him. you pull your sticky hand away from jungkook when you think he’s finally emptied, but he grabs your wrist and you look at him questioningly. you watch with shocked eyes as jungkook brings your hand up and takes your messy fingers into his mouth, sucking his cum from them. you know instinctively it isn’t the first time he’s done this—not with the look of pure satisfaction on his features as he licks his own seed off your fingers.

his enthusiastic pleasure is part of the reason why you accept when jungkook gives you a crushing kiss, passing his cum from his tongue to yours. you don’t know what you expected it to taste like, but it isn’t gross like you’ve heard others complain about when sharing their sex tales; despite being salty, the overall taste is neutral. still, it takes some getting used to.

when you pull away from each other, noses brushing and lips wet from each other’s spit, you look into his dark brown eyes and get the sudden desire to say something that’s been buried in the back of your mind for days now.

“why did you come straight to me that night?” you whisper. “like you already knew who you were there for.”

jungkook stares back, his lips curving up slightly. “i just wanted to. or i wanted you, more specifically.”

“that’s not an answer.”

“well, it’s my answer.”

“was i another one to knock off your list?”

“you think i have a list?”

“i’m not stupid. it’s not unusual for guys to have a list. plus, plenty of rumors go around.”

jungkook taps his fingers underneath your chin and kisses you on the lips again, though it is brief. “stop believing everything you hear.”

you clearly won’t be getting a straight answer from him tonight. with the moment broken, you sigh and begin pulling your bottoms back on. “…whatever you say, dude.” once you’re dressed, you climb over his body to get off the couch. you poke him in the chest as your eyes roam over him in his disheveled state, his shorts pulled down and his cum staining his black shirt. “might wanna clean yourself up, huh? i’m going to sleep. and, yeah…thanks for the distraction.”

TUESDAY, NOV 7

with the weather being as cold as it is and heading toward winter in another month or so, lorelai is surprised by how quickly the bodies began to smell.

she doesn’t know much of anything about bodily decomposition—because, to her parents’ disappointment, she wasn’t about to be a biology major and have to be around cadavers in a dissection lab—but if this were a movie or something, she would’ve thought it would take longer than just one day. the smell started to hit her the saturday after the party.

but ultimately, this isn’t a movie, and the fact that she’s trapped in a decrepit house in some remote part of town is her present reality.

she doesn’t remember anything about how she got to this house; she thinks she must have been concussed before she was brought here. her head has been hurting badly for days, and not even the simple relief of a painkiller is available.

what she does know is that she’s being kept in a dirty living room on an equally dirty mattress, her hands and legs tied by rope and zip-ties. if there were any miniscule chance of her escaping, it would be impossible to go anywhere considering both her ankles are broken, only adding to the amount of physical pain she’s been in for days.

the living room is mostly empty except for the bodies of some other students from the party, which have been scattered around the room. lorelai tries not to look at them—especially not at the ones she knows—but it’s difficult. they become even more terrifying to her when night falls, turning into dark, rotting shadows in the corners of the room. there has been nothing but the company of these corpses for days, and a couple of visits from the killer.

he's never once taken off his wolf mask or his gloves, and every other part of his body stays covered in all black. she doesn’t have the first idea of what he looks like underneath it all. he has spoken to her a few times, but the voice isn’t one she recognizes. his words when she first awoke inside this house still knock around in her mind, filling her with dread.

he’d crouched in front of her, watching her move around on the mattress and try to orient herself. he had the casual air of someone observing a flipped-up bug struggle on the sidewalk before crushing it underfoot. “you aren’t y/n, but you’ll do for now. we’ll have some real fun later on. you’ll help me give her a good scare.”

“how the fuck do you know y/n?” lorelai had struggled against her restraints, but this only made her newly broken ankles hurt worse. tears began to fall from her eyes from the pain and fear.

the killer had said nothing to that—only tilted his head curiously and stared at her, which was unnerving even if she couldn’t see his eyes.

“you have no fucking reason to go after her, she’s not even a virgin anymore you dumb fuck—” with those words, the killer had backhanded her, sending her already injured head into a fresh wave of agony.

“things would’ve been different if not for that fucking party. you students think you’re so fucking clever, yeah? and look how you paid for it.” it was impossible to see any facial expression, but his body language spoke of anger. “no matter, though. virgin or not, i’ll see this through to the end.”

now it’s yet another morning, and he has returned. he has a lot of debris in his hands—stuff like sticks and dry moss and foliage. he’s also carrying a small bag, the contents of it a mystery. everything he does causes alarm for lorelai, but now confusion joins in.

“ready to have some fun?” he asks. with duct tape over her mouth, she can’t answer back. she watches as he arranges the debris on the ground in front of her, her anxiety mounting as he takes a lighter out of his pocket and sets fire to the foliage.

leaning forward, he rips part of the duct tape away from her mouth with his gloved hand, causing her face to sting. “got anything to say?”

“wh-what the fuck are you doing?”

“i’m gonna stoke a nice fire here…get this knife hot enough to hurt.” he brings out his knife then, and lorelai shrinks away from the blade as he drags the flat of it across her throat—but there’s nowhere else to go, as she’s sitting up against the wall. “then i’ll just cut this pretty little body up a bit. the finishing touch…i think i’ll slice your throat open. how does that sound?” he takes the knife away from her neck to hold the blade over the flames.

lorelai’s breath hitches, and her stomach begins to physically hurt from the outpouring of anxiety flowing through her. she starts to sob, trying to speak through the tears and snot and drool. the only question she can muster up is, “wh-why?”

“this is for y/n—remember? i hope that concussion hasn’t fucked with your memory.” the killer watches the reflection of the flames on the blade as it grows hotter. “and…i’m doing someone a favor.” he doesn’t wait for her to speak again before putting the duct tape back in place over her mouth, leaving her to cry to herself and face her rising distress as he heats the knife until it’s burning hot. internally, she wishes there was any way in the world to get out of this situation.

it isn’t much longer before he’s finished. lorelai screams as he approaches her with the knife, and then at the feeling of the red-hot blade scorching her skin, though the sounds are stifled by the duct tape.

“now, be still while i fix you up.”

WEDNESDAY, NOV 8

you go outside that afternoon to check the mail and have an excuse to get out of the house; it doesn’t matter if it’s only for a few moments. you’re not used to staying cooped up in one place for so long with absolutely nothing to do, and you feel like you’re not too far off from going mad with cabin fever. it hasn’t even been a week since everything happened.

you open the mailbox, and there are the usual bills along with something strange: a blank envelope with no return address. even your sister’s address isn’t written on it. flipping it over, you see that the envelope was never sealed. someone must’ve just come up and put it inside the mailbox. but who the hell would do that, and for what reason? whenever any of your neighbors have something to give you or your sister, they come straight up to the house to do it.

inside the envelope is a set of polaroids. their content makes you drop the rest of the mail. your legs grow weak, and you end up sitting down hard on the end of the driveway, some of the polaroids slipping from your hands. the pictures show the bodies of some of the students from your university, their corpses posed in odd positions and some bare of clothing—all dead.

you struggle to breathe as you frantically flip through the rest of the pictures. in the center of all the group photos is lorelai, her neck torn open and her wrists and ankles tied. she’s still dressed the way she was the night of the party, though her dress is stained with dark brown blood. there are open cuts all over her bare skin, their appearance rough-looking and uneven as if they’ve been cauterized.

there are several group polaroids, several of lorelai alone, and several angles of the outside of a house, which must be the same one the bodies are being kept in. one photo of lorelai slips out of your shaking hands, and you see there’s barely legible handwriting on the back of it, which reads, “this is just the teaser, y/n.”

you scream and don’t stop screaming until jungkook comes running out of the house holding the baseball bat, as if the killer might’ve gotten bold enough to attack in daylight. a couple of your neighbors peek out of their houses and make their way over with concern on their faces once they see you sitting on the ground, your exclamations ringing through the street.

there’s a disarrayed group of people around you grabbing at your shoulders and asking what’s wrong, what happened, and then gasps and exclamations of shock when they see the polaroids. you feel yourself being pulled to your feet and then lifted up—maybe it’s jungkook, because it smells like him—but you’re too disoriented to make proper sense of anything right now. you can only think of how much time has been wasted, and how little time lorelai actually had left.

SUNDAY, NOV 12

in the main lobby of the funeral home, you sit in a chair next to camille, staring into empty space while the other girl tries to cry as quietly as she can. she cries as if she’s ashamed of it, and you wish you could comfort her, but you don’t know what to say or do. for the past few days, you’ve mostly just felt numb.

you’re waiting for veronica to come back out so you can leave, as she’d stayed behind after the service to talk to lorelai’s family for a little longer.

lorelai’s family had opted to have her cremated after seeing the state of her body. a lot of other families did the same after the events of cherry bomb, not even wanting to entertain the idea of a closed-casket funeral. you can understand their feelings about it if you push through the haze in your mind to consider it for long enough. though the morticians have done the best they can over the past week, sometimes knowing that your loved one has multiple stab wounds and eviscerated organs beneath all the makeup and fancy clothing is too much to handle.

when veronica finally comes out, the three of you walk outside to join the rest of the people who’ve started getting in their cars. some still linger in small huddles, shaking their heads and wiping their faces.

jungkook, who’d driven you and veronica to the memorial, waits outside for you all, leaning on the side of the building. you both thought it was probably better for him not to attend the service considering lorelai was never fond of him and he didn’t know her that well.

“is it finished?” he asks.

“it is.” veronica sighs. “god, funerals are so damn…bleak.”

you notice a man waving at your group from the other side of the parking lot and realize it’s camille’s dad. her posture straightens when she catches sight of him, and she hurriedly tries to wipe the rest of her tears before shoving her tissue into her pocket. “i-i think my dad is waiting for me. i…i’ll see you guys later, alright?”

“okay, camille.” the strange absence of emotion that you’ve been trapped in for the past few days suddenly cracks open when you notice camille’s anxious demeanor as she speed-walks away from the rest of you. intense sorrow overtakes you; you don’t want her to leave, but she has to go.

you are crying before you fully understand what’s happening. veronica puts her arms around you and squeezes you against the side of her body. jungkook reaches a thumb up to wipe away your tears, though you don’t let him get very far before turning your head away and into veronica’s shoulder.

“y/n…”

“how am i supposed to go on?” you exclaim, catching the attention of a few people nearby. “the police said maybe she’s just staying with friends. and now look. plus, the killer knows where me and my sister live now…maybe he always knew.”

“we don’t even have a clue who the killer is…” jungkook mumbles. “there’s no one you know of who might have a grudge against you?”

“no, jungkook. the police already gave me all that questioning. and it doesn’t help me feel any better to think maybe all these deaths are somehow my fault.” you scoff.

“y/n, nothing’s your fault because some freak decided to go around killing people; that was his decision.” jungkook argues.

you nod slightly to his words but say nothing else, not wanting to go further into that topic. you don’t know if you can believe him about that.

the parking lot is emptying out now, so you try to pull yourself together so the three of you can leave. “well…you don’t need to keep staying with us if you don’t want to. we have those assigned bodyguards now, so…” you glance in the direction of one other car sitting beside jungkook’s—inside it are two men the police force appointed after the polaroids of the bodies were planted in your sister’s mailbox.

jungkook looks at you as if he’s trying to gauge your expression; he himself looks surprised, though he attempts to play it off. veronica glances between you both, recognizing the awkward shift in the air.

“you don’t want me there anymore? i mean it is your house—” he glances at veronica “—so that’s fine with me if—"

“what? i didn’t say i don’t want you there, neither did veronica, it’s just if you don’t want to be there—"

“i never said i didn’t want to be there, though?”

you both become quiet, jungkook looking at you and you returning his gaze for a few seconds before looking off to the side. veronica is still standing between you both like she’d rather be anywhere else on earth.

“i just figured that maybe…” why are you being so concerned about me? isn’t this the part where we go our separate ways? is what you really want to ask. you have seen and learned enough from your friends’ and even your acquaintances’ experiences to realize that any other one night stand would not have cared so much. that’s how these things go, right? but he isn’t really a one night stand anymore, either.

you don’t even know if you’re considered friends with benefits, but what would that change? you’d still seen others tossed aside without much thought by their FWBs while in times of need. considering his history, you don’t understand why jungkook isn’t following the same template now, and you don’t think you should ask why for fear of breaking the illusion.

fed up with your own confusion, you decide now isn’t the time to lament on your lack of knowledge about these things. “nevermind. that’s fine. so you’ll stay?”

the corner of his mouth lifts in a brief smile. “i’ll stay as long as you won’t try to kick me out.”

you aren’t in the mood to attempt to smile back, but he seems to understand that. “right, well...good.”

“…now that you two have figured that shit out, can we leave?”

FRIDAY, NOV 17

jungkook thought that getting outside a bit more would help you feel better and prevent you from developing a complete fear of leaving the house, which is why you’re sitting in this claustrophobic little diner now with him, yoongi, and camille—and of course, your ever-present bodyguards in the booth behind you all. but this outing isn’t doing anything to mitigate your fears.

nearly 10 minutes in, you have to ask jungkook to switch seats with you so you’re not on the outside of the booth, as you’re afraid that it’s too easy-access if anyone—say, the killer, though you’ve been trying not to think so obsessively about him—were to come in and start stabbing you to death right where you sit. being on the inside calms you for a little while until you become anxious about the window beside you; what if he has a gun again and simply shoots through the glass? all he’d have to do is stand on the sidewalk and aim, his werewolf mask laughing at you with its eternally frozen growling expression, and your brains would be all over the table just like that frat guy’s.

your meal sits half-eaten as you get increasingly lost in your anxieties. the others are talking about something, but you can’t hear what. it’s like some of your senses have shut down or begun working incorrectly. the strawberry sauce in camille’s sundae looks too much like blood and even smells like it from the occasional whiffs you get, and you find yourself staring at the sundae dish and wanting to throw it across the restaurant.

jungkook’s hand touches you on the back, and the tension in your body increases. he feels it and draws away, though he keeps trying to meet your eyes. “are you okay?” he whispers.

“why ask that? she obviously isn’t,” yoongi says, like he’s annoyed with the obviousness of jungkook’s question.

“hyung, i’m just trying to help.”

“it was your great idea to come out here when she didn’t want to, though.”

“y/n—” camille starts.

“can’t you throw that out? it smells like blood.” your mouth feels useless and hard to maneuver, but you manage to say those words.

“what?”

“the…that. that thing.” everyone looks at camille’s melting sundae. yoongi raises his eyebrows.

“blood?”

“do you mean it—looks like blood?” jungkook suggests.

you raise your voice in irritation, not understanding how everyone else is unable to perceive the same scent that you do. “no, i-it does, but it smells like blood too! just get rid of it!”

one of the waitresses comes over to the table. “is everything okay over here?”

“um, we’re fine! i’m finished with this though.” camille hurriedly hands the sundae off to her, trying to keep the situation calm.

“oh, well—the rest of you too? that’ll be it, then?” she gathers everyone’s plates and leaves with a smile that attempts to be cordial but is still colored with unease.

her departure leaves a stiff silence in which you all spare glances at each other but try to avoid directly meeting eyes. camille is the first to break it.

“i’ll ask my dad if i can stay over with you,” she suggests. she suddenly sounds much more tired. jungkook’s eyebrows furrow slightly at her words; yoongi silently glances at the younger man. “just, you know…maybe the extra company would help? he’s been treating me like a kid again, but we should be safe with the bodyguards there, so…”

“you don’t have to do that,” you say, though you’re too exhausted to truly argue.

“you’re in shambles, y/n. and it’s not just for your benefit. i’m feeling pretty fucking alone right now, and it’s hard for my dad to understand the emotional side of it, so…” camille plays with her fingers and doesn’t look at anyone as she speaks; you know talking about her father can be a sore spot for her sometimes. “uh, anyway. not to trauma-dump or anything. just let me do this.”

you sigh. “fine…okay. do whatever you have to. can we just leave?”

as you’re all walking outside, jungkook pulls you aside.

“i still worry about you after that incident at the store, you know?” he admits.

you shrug his hand off your arm and glare at him. “you think i’m crazy.”

“i don’t. i just want you to be able to relax and not feel like you’re being hunted 24/7. i don’t think the killer is constantly waiting around the nearest corner for you, y/n.”

“you don’t know how close the killer could be. he knows where i go to sleep at night. so stop the bullshit, jungkook.”

“you’ll be okay. you have me, remember? i protected you that night…i can do it again.”

you examine his face for a long moment and find that you are too overwhelmed with stress and fear to be moved by his words. “i’d like to trust you…but the killer might just murder you too. then who’ll save me?” you don’t wait for his response before walking away to catch up with the other two.

LYING IN WAIT...

it’s strange to see the police bodyguards in veronica’s driveway and backyard everyday. it’s not the same two all day—they switch off so that there are two doing a day shift and two doing a night shift.

the security team at the hospital where your sister works is aware of the situation, so you try not to get too worried about her safety when she’s away from the house—but it’s difficult.

there have been no more kills connected to your university since lorelai. it seems like half the town has forgotten their fears and tried to go back to some sense of normalcy while the other half still hides away and lives in perpetual panic, including you. the former group of people has started muddying the waters for the police, with some teenagers getting brave enough to sneak around in wolf masks and vandalize buildings with red-lettered virgin graffiti just to fuck with the cops. there have even been a few people who turned themselves in claiming to be the killer—only their supposed confessions never matched the details of the case.

reporters have tried to hound lorelai’s family and your family several times for any speculations or answers on the killer’s identity, but none of you are willing to spread misinformation just to give them something to write about. however, that hasn’t stopped other residents of your town from sharing their speculations and even implicating their own relatives or neighbors—whether as a fucked-up joke or as genuine revenge just depends on whoever’s speaking. with all of these false leads, the police are still no closer to finding the killer than they’d initially been.

everyday feels like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, though the chances of any more kills are starting to seem improbable; the university is practically empty. but it doesn’t matter to you if the school is nearly deserted, because the killer has his aims set on you now, and you only wish you knew why.

up in your room, you and camille sit on your bed gazing out the window—the window that must always remain locked now, for fear of unwanted ingress. you’ve never been uncomfortable in your sister’s house, but lately you’ve been feeling like you’re boxed in with every wall pressing towards you.

sitting up from your lying-down position, you have to find the appropriate words for a moment before speaking. “camille—i can’t stop feeling like maybe we aren’t entirely safe,” you murmur.

camille raises her eyebrows. “why not? those guys stay outside all day, and we keep everything locked up day and night. literally, the only time the front door opens is for veronica to leave and come back from work everyday.”

“i don’t know. there’s no particular reason for it…it just seems like we’re waiting for something.”

“…yeah? for the killer to be caught.”

“but he’s made no moves recently. you remember the policeman’s daughter, right? i even texted her and she hasn’t heard anything new that we don’t already know. seems like things have slowed down at the police station. it’s not like that abandoned house was in the killer’s name or anything, so what leads would they have?”

camille frowns and rubs her eyes like something’s in them, but when she looks at you directly, you see her eyes are red from unshed tears. “…i want things to be okay, though. i’m tired of living like this. you know how i had to beg just to get my dad to let me leave the house. he’s constantly on edge.” you feel even more unsettled to see camille so distressed lately, as she’s always been the only one able to pull something funny out of a terrible situation—something enough to distract you from the horrors. “all i know is they’ll have to dig his ass out of some hole in the ground at some point. he can’t hide in this town forever.”

“yeah…i guess you’re right.” you still don’t feel reassured, but you don’t voice your doubts.

WEDNESDAY, NOV 22

“i think i might go mad,” camille says from her position on the armchair, her limbs splayed haphazardly across it and one hand stuck in a bag of chips.

you sigh. “you’re the one who wanted to watch this thanksgiving movie marathon.”

“the most mid holiday of the season,” jungkook adds.

“no one cares what either of you think, thanks.” it isn’t long before the program is over and the ending credits are rolling. with an exaggerated exhale, camille gets up from the chair and crunches the bag of chips in her hand. “i’m going to your room, y/n. you two just do whatever it is you do down here, since you hate my movie choices so much!”

“means we can finally turn the channel.” jungkook snatches the remote off the coffee table and does just that.

camille goes into the kitchen to throw out the chip bag and wash her hands. your focus returns to the TV. a few seconds later, you hear the upstairs flooring creak above the noise of the water pouring from the tap.

“what’s up, sis? i thought you were sleeping.” veronica is known to be a deep sleeper, so it’s not common for her to be getting up in the middle of the night. there’s no answer to your question. you glance upstairs, but your sister isn’t standing there; she isn’t standing at all, instead being carried by someone wearing an all-too familiar mask.

you scream as the killer tosses your sister over the stair railing. her torso has been sliced open from collarbone to navel, her body leaving a large splatter of blood on the floor where she lands. jungkook jumps to his feet but is momentarily immobilized as he gazes at your sister’s body crumpled on the floor. you slide off the couch and crawl over to her, still crying out, but there’s no life left to try and salvage.

the screaming brings camille rushing to the kitchen doorway. she can barely vocalize what’s wrong? before spotting veronica’s body and stopping in her tracks. in a moment that feels like it takes forever to pass, the killer pulls a gun from his waistband—you recognize it as one of the guns the policemen carry and realize he must’ve killed the bodyguard posted in the backyard—and shoots her in the chest twice.

“camille!” when you go over to where she’s lying on the ground, she is still alive but bleeding intensely and struggling to breathe. your knees slip in the blood that begins pooling around her. “shit, camille…p-please don’t die…” you press your hand against the wounds, but they’re bleeding so much that your efforts don’t help, and the pressure of your hand causes her more pain.

there’s the sound of a gunshot at the front door as the lock is blown off, and the door is banged open a few seconds later by the remaining bodyguard. he has virtually no time to fire off another shot before the killer is shooting him in the head first.

the killer throws the gun aside, taking his knife in his other hand and making his way down the stairs. “your sister left her window cracked open. i waited for days for a slip-up like that. see how much harm can come from a simple mistake? well, she was collateral damage anyway.”

even in your panic, it’s as if all your bodily functions freeze when you recognize the familiarity of the killer’s voice. camille reacts with a rattling gasp, but her body is becoming too weak for her to utter anything; all she can do is watch as the man stops at the bottom of the stairs and pulls his mask off.

“yoongi…” your voice breaks as you try to speak again, but nothing coherent comes out.

he drops the mask on the floor and brushes a hand through his hair. “i guess you weren’t expecting that. good. we kept it up ‘til the end.”

your lips form around the word we, but your vocal cords won’t cooperate. you twist around to look at jungkook, who is still standing by the couch.

the man who you’d gotten too close to for your own good and done so many firsts with, who’d promised you that he’d protect you and was even there for you on the day of lorelai’s memorial, looks at you now with eyes glowing from the thrill as his mouth twitches into a smile—small at first but growing into a full grin. “i almost can’t believe we staged all that shit and it actually worked. you really believed it all, y/n.

not all of those kills were hyung’s, of course...there’s no way i’d miss out on the best parts. you don’t know what it’s like until you kill a person for the first time. crashing cherry bomb was his idea, though. and lorelai was mine. that bitch would’ve kept you away from me, and i needed her gone for this kill to work.”

through tears, you finally muster up the strength to ask, “wh-why have you done this? that night…y-you mean to tell me none of that was real? being shot at—why would you—” your voice rises until you’re shouting. “you-you’ve killed so many people. what was the purpose?!”

jungkook’s smile fades somewhat as he pretends to think about it, acting like he’s reminiscing on wistful memories. “i realized that killing and fucking aren’t that different, y/n. the real ecstasy of it is in taking someone pure…and doing something to them that has never been done before, and can never be done again. there’s a certain eroticism in killing someone, stabbing them, entering them…it’s like sex in the most profane sense.”

“you’re disgusting,” you mutter, glaring at him through your tears. you can’t help but feel shame to think of the times you’d had sex with him. had he simply been imagining murdering you during those moments? it makes you want to throw up.

yoongi steps closer until he’s right in front of you and camille. “and as for me…i just enjoy it. practice really does make perfect. you wouldn’t believe how entertaining it can be to see someone beg for their life.” his lips turn upwards in a dark smile resembling jungkook’s. “but instead of raging at us, i think you have bigger matters to be concerned with.” yoongi gestures his knife hand to camille, and when you look down at her body, you realize she’s no longer moving.

you lift camille’s head up with your hands as if that could make her return your gaze, though you can find no sign of breathing or pulse. “god, no…” you scream in frustration, your hands slipping in her blood. you check once more and again for any signs of life, because there is just no possible way this could’ve happened, but there are none present. “please—i’m sorry…”

“time’s up.” yoongi grabs your arm and yanks you away from camille, jostling you to try to get you on your feet. you flail around in his grip, fruitlessly scratching at his arms that are covered by his thick jacket, before managing to elbow him in the groin with your frantic movements. “shit!” this causes him to loosen his grip, which is enough for you to scramble away from him, slipping in the blood as you go.

you make it to the other side of the room where the officer lies facedown—though there isn’t much left of his face from yoongi’s shot. you snatch the gun from the dead officer’s hand and point it in the direction of both men. the safety is already off; all you’d have to do is pull the trigger and kill either one of them right now. before you can act, yoongi uses his free hand to pull another gun from his waistband—his own.

“as i said before, i know how to take care of myself,” he says, flicking the safety off and aiming for you, though his stance shows he’s still in pain. “please don’t assume it’ll be that easy. do you even know how to shoot a gun?”

you and yoongi are at an impasse as you both point your guns at each other, jungkook looking on with casual amusement coloring his face. “fuck you,” you spit out. you remain hesitant to fire on him, knowing that even if you succeed, he could fatally shoot you at the same time.

“let’s not do it this way,” yoongi says, his voice low and soft in an attempt to be persuasive, though you just find it disturbing. “you were supposed to be a clean kill. a few stabs and it’d all be over. i’ll even let jungkook do it, since you seem to like each other so much. do you really want to be shot down like a dog like camille over there?”

“you and him can both fry in hell!” you shout.

yoongi glances over at jungkook. they both nod before yoongi hands the knife to him, and the younger man takes a few steps in your direction. you don’t know whether to point the gun at him or keep it trained on yoongi; your head is pounding with a headache that you’ve only just realized you have. “don’t come over here. stay away from me!”

you press your back to the wall as jungkook comes closer, inching towards your right side with his knife at the ready. you slide away from him as you keep your back against the wall. “hand it over, y/n. it doesn’t have to be like this.”

“hand it over and let you kill me? are you insane? you lied to me this whole time, you fucking piece of shit.”

jungkook scoffs and looks at yoongi as if to say can you believe this? “why wouldn’t i lie to you? you were always meant to die.”

he won’t stop coming towards you, and you’re running out of room to slide away from him. you grasp for anything to try to reason with him, though you know it’s futile. “you realize that if you kill me now and you conveniently survive, everyone will know it’s you? you’ve been living here for weeks, you jackass!”

“hyung and i have that covered. it’s not for you to worry about, considering you won’t be worrying about anything soon.”

jungkook lunges for you with the knife, thinking he can catch you off guard and overpower you. you scream and pull the trigger in your frenzied state of mind, shooting yoongi. the next few things seem to happen almost simultaneously:

you hear the crash of yoongi’s body hitting the TV stand and the TV falling to the floor.

you feel jungkook’s knife piercing your shoulder, causing you to fire a stray round into the wall from the unexpected burst of pain.

you hear another gunshot that’s not from you; you see and feel jungkook stumble into you, the knife sliding from his fingers and to the floor.

you realize that he’s been shot when his hand flies to the bullet wound on his lower back; he’d been standing in front of you, and yoongi meant to hit you, not him.

“jungkook!” yoongi’s shout is furious and regretful as he steadies himself on the TV stand.

trying to push the pain into the back of your mind, you clumsily grasp jungkook’s fallen knife and run for the stairs. more shots follow you and most of them miss but one, which strikes you in the thigh. while you cling to the stair railing and try to regain your footing, you are suddenly staring mortality in the face and understanding with a freezing-cold clarity that you will die right now if you don’t do something.

your nervous system vibrates with fear and adrenaline as you tighten your grip on the police officer’s gun and shoot yoongi with it twice—in the same area he’d shot camille.

these last two bullets finish him off immediately. you don’t think it’s fair, with how camille suffered and bled and died in your arms. for a moment, you’re so outraged that you wish he’d come back to life so that you could kill him again. you’re torn from these thoughts by jungkook.

“you bitch…he was my only family after everyone else threw me away. do you understand? i’ll fucking kill you!” jungkook is nearly writhing in the ground from his upset and from the hurt of his injury; it frightens you that this same man is someone you once thought you could grow fond of.

you aim the gun for jungkook next, but the chamber is empty. either way, he currently has no weapon, which leaves you with a small chance to get away before he re-arms himself. throwing the gun away, you stagger up the rest of the steps while his screams continue echoing up to you.

you give no thought to the blood trail you’re leaving behind as you rush to veronica’s room and to the window yoongi had entered through. you begin squeezing yourself through, keeping your grip on your knife all the while, but your injuries make it difficult to move. a few more tears slip out as you try to balance your injured leg on the tree branch beneath the window, and the desperation of wanting to give up clings to you.

you hear jungkook’s heavy and limping footsteps coming up the stairs, and you attempt to hurry, but you’re only halfway out of the window. when he crashes into the room, it’s unnervingly easy for him to grab your arm and yank your body back through the window, uncaring of how you get scraped up in the process.

he jams you up against the nightstand with one of the kitchen knives to your neck to stop your movements; his harsh maneuver causes the objects on the nightstand to rattle. the nightstand’s edge digs into the backs of your thighs, the pressure causing your wounded thigh to hurt more.

“you want to know why i picked you?” jungkook hisses, the knife’s blade stinging your throat as it begins to break skin. “you were just another choice out of many, but i decided you’d be the first one that i’d fuck and kill.”

it’s painful to hear, but it angers you at the same time. “fuck you!” in your rage, you spit in his eyes. jungkook jerks back and the knife shifts from its previous position at your neck; you take those few seconds to grasp the alarm clock off the nightstand and crash it against his head.

“shit—!” he cries out, stumbling and grasping the side of his head. he tries to grab for you again, but you jump onto the bed and crawl away from him, your stomach lurching at all of veronica’s blood soaked into the sheets. you spot a small decorative glass bowl on the dresser—the one filled with little candies that you’d always teased veronica for, saying she was so much like a grandma handing out treats to her grandchildren. when your feet touch the ground again, you clasp your hand around it like it’s a lifeline and fling it at jungkook’s head as hard as you can, just as he makes it around the bed to your side. the shards cut his face when it breaks, slowing him down further as he grabs his slashed and bleeding face. one of his eyes is blinded from the blood and glass.

this will probably be your only chance while he’s struggling to gather himself. you rush towards him with the knife handle tight in both of your hands and drive the blade into the middle of his chest, putting all your strength into that movement—just as his own knife impales your abdomen.

you are both simultaneously struck from the shock of being stabbed, and it takes you a few long moments to piece your mind back together as the pain radiates throughout your body. jungkook groans when you shift the knife around in his wound as you pull it out, letting his blood flow out freely. his breaths become wet and rattling as he chokes on his own blood, the red fluid staining his mouth and dripping down to his neck. he jams his knife further into your wound in retaliation so that the handle is flush against your body, causing your head to spin.

“i-if i die, i’m taking you w-with me.” jungkook gasps with his remaining effort. his body starts to sag from its standing position as he weakens, his hand slipping from the knife handle. he loosely grasps the comforter with one hand as he collapses to his knees, his torso becoming soaked with blood and his head bleeding from your earlier hits.

you drop your knife and lean against the bed too, shifting your body to find a position that could lessen the pain, but it’s impossible with a knife lodged in your abdomen. you know enough to understand that you’ll bleed out faster if you remove it, though, so you resist the urge. “you can rot in hell alone, jungkook.” you watch him struggle for what feels like minutes before his breaths stop altogether and his body slumps to the floor. he is just a blur of clothes and blood through your tears. you’ve never felt so lonely in your life.

you have a thought to call 911, but you’re becoming more and more lightheaded from the blood loss, and you can already hear sirens approaching on your street. you figure one of your neighbors must’ve called after hearing the gunshots; perhaps the bodyguard sent for backup before he was shot. your rescue has come much later than you would’ve preferred—or maybe everything just happened much faster than it seemed. you can’t tell anymore.

you can’t tell anymore, and you no longer want to look at the carnage around you, and nothing makes any sense. so, you close your eyes to it all; and when you feel someone lifting you in their arms—this sensation is so familiar—and maneuvering you onto a stretcher, you allow yourself to relent to it and empty your mind of everything.

@ihatemen55 @cottoncandyclouds-stuff @yunhofingers @heybabesposts @twilight-loveer @whipwhoops @mrsminho @junecat18 @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @okayiamkassandra @witchbitxhxx @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @thaiika @goldentea10 @iloverubberduckiez-blog @katie-tibo @ohsweetmimosa @dream-cvtcher @hoseokteardrop @lpgirl2324 @vanillacupcakefrosting @gukiemochi @jkslaugh97 @ahgasegotarmy116 @jeonjklibs @bangtans-momma @screamertannie @kenzietaetae @han-nah-banana @00frenchfries00 @taiwan0618 @laurynne5 @monvante @ynisthatyou @thiccthighs19 @jeonwiixard

#jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fic #bts smut #bts x you #bts x reader #black reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #black fem reader #fem reader #female reader

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a-killer-obsession · 2 months ago

Text

Whoops, you got hit by a bus, and now you're in the world of One Piece. But not everything is quite as you remember it...

General Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, isekai, monsterfucker reader, vampire!kid, werewolf!killer, wyrm!heat, minotaur!wire, everyone has a human form, smut heavy, unhealthy relationships, dubious consent, serious violence, spoilers for Wano arc, starts pre-timeskip. There will be a lot of more intense kinks, please check AO3 for all current tags.

Chapter 9 - As It Was Written

The Straw Hats finally arrive at Sabaody. Will things go to plan? And how will Kid react?

WC: 6.1k

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 1

It took four days for the Straw Hats to turn up, and in the meantime Kid had grown restless, and more than over all the waiting. He was starting to get dangerously close to calling bullshit on your story, and you'd spent the last two nights with Killer, Kid deciding if you were going to run, that Heat would be too soft and more likely let you go. Which was far from true - Heat had become exceptionally attached to you, if you tried to run he was more likely to chain you to his bed and keep you like a pet. Finally, not long before lunch on the fourth day since docking, the long awaited sound of Killer's transponder snail ringing was heard.

Immediately you were taken back to the ship and put back in the brig, your collar and cuffs still on but your leash removed for now. You had a decent idea of how long it would take for the events of the day to unfold, so you waited patiently on the bottom bunk bed, the mattresses still stacked from your original stay, though you were without the comfort of your blankets or pillow. Or your stuffed animal, which obviously lived with Heat. You should have asked for a book or something, it was boring as shit down in the brig, so you entertained yourself by trying to memorise the strings of symbols written in probably blood that lined the walls and floors of the cell. You still weren't sure what their purpose was, did someone on this crew take part in regular demon summoning? House, probably, if you had to guess.

You heard the sudden chaos above you on the main deck as the commanders returned, followed by the lurching of the ship as it quickly left the port just as you thought it would. The Victoria may not have been in immediate range of the marines, but they were still hot on their tail. It was maybe half an hour before things settled enough for Heat to come down to retrieve you, reattaching your leash for good measure. Kid figured if there was ever a time where you were going to attempt to run or attack, it would be when your story was disproven.

“Last chance, you're telling the truth right?” Heat asked nervously. He wasn't ready to give you up if Kid decided to get rid of you, and after the day they'd all had you might not even make it to the auction house if it came out that you'd been faking it. “I can't… I can't protect you if you're lying.”

“You won't have to, Heat,” you assured him, cupping his scarred face as best you could with your still cuffed hands. “You're all gonna see I was telling the truth. I promise. I wouldn't lie to you.”

“Okay,” he said softly, pushing his face into your shoulder and inhaling your sweet scent, before gathering himself with a sigh and bringing you above deck. It seemed like the entire crew was out on the weather deck as you were walked through to the navigation room, passing around the side of the forecastle to the inside of the giant dinosaur skull to enter the nav room from its front door. The other commanders sat inside at the round table, Kid tapping his fingers impatiently against the wooden table top, your sealed letter sitting in front of him, both the now past and your uncertain future held within.

You expected Kid to want you on his lap as usual, but instead Heat attached your leash to a bracket hidden under the table and sat you at the opposite end from Kid, taking his own place on the other end with the other commanders. It felt very much like you were on trial as you sat facing the four large, dangerous men. It was a stark reminder that these men were in fact notorious pirates and would kill you without a second thought. Killer still had a splash of marine blood on his mask, likely kept there to intimidate, but you had to admit it was kinda hot.

“Ready for your judgement, Mouse?” Kid rumbled, a smug smile on his face. He was ready to prove you wrong, greatly in need of an outlet to torture and kill after the day he had and keen to make you that outlet. The others weren't as prepared, they had all taken note of your accurate prediction of where the Straw Hats would dock, as well as the marine presence in the neighbouring dock, and for Killer and Heat especially it had given them hope that you'd be a permanent fixture on the ship. Heat still had a clutch of eggs prepared that he hoped you would accept, and Killer was more than excited at the potential to have someone on board who was happy to indulge his kinks. Kid had a secret hope to keep you here as well, it was nice having a human feeder on board, but he couldn't stand liars, not even your sweet blood would outweigh that. As soon as you were proven a liar he would torture you within an inch of your life, and then he'd drain you dry.

“Ready when you are,” you replied as confidently as you could, though you stirred nervously in your seat. You had an underlying paranoia that your presence alone in this world may have changed things, but given the rushed nature that the ship had left port, and the commanders’ clearly fresh from battle appearance, you held hope that your predictions would still hold true.

Kid grunted indignantly and handed the letter to Killer, who opened it and quickly gave it a skim, his brows raising under his mask, before beginning to read aloud for the others.

“Kid will get into a fight with Scratchmen Apoo in grove twenty-four, and Killer will get into a fight with The Mad Monk Urouge in grove twenty-one, which will be broken up by X Drake,” he exchanged a look with Kid. His face may have been masked but Kid had known him long enough to understand the look.

“So she got one part, big whoop, is that all she wrote?” Kid rolled his eyes.

“There's a lot more here,” Killer continued, a hopeful tint to his voice, “Commanders will head to the human auction house in grove one, where Trafalgar Law and some of the Straw Hat crew will be present. A pirate captain for sale named Lacuba will bite his own tongue off. A green haired mermaid will be presented for sale in a giant fishbowl. The Celestial Dragon, Saint Charlos, will bid five-hundred million berri for her.”

“He wanted to see how long she'd survive in a tank with his piranhas,” you tsk’d, “disgusting man.” The commanders made discontented frowns as they imagined the mermaid they'd seen being eaten alive, before Killer continued.

“Monkey D. Luffy will crash through the ceiling on a large flying fish and punch Saint Charlos,” Killer continued, “Silvers ‘Dark King’ Rayleigh will appear through the stage wall and use conqueror's haki to knock most of the guards out. He will apologise to Kid and Law for using haki on them. Marines will surround the auction house. Kid, Law and Luffy will fight together against them. Warlord Bartholomew Kuma will attack Kid. Marine Admiral Kizaru will also show up, and newspapers will advertise the execution of Portgas D. Ace in nine days at Marineford,” Killer paused, “that's everything she wrote.”

There was a pregnant silence as the commanders all absorbed that every item you'd listed had been an accurate prediction, even things as unbelievable as Luffy punching a Celestial Dragon. It was a heavy revelation for everyone to admit that you were from a whole other universe, and some unknown force had brought you here against your will. It opened up more questions than they were prepared to try to answer. “Well, shit,” Kid finally broke the silence.

“So, I can stay, right?” You asked nervously, everyone waiting anxiously for Kid's verdict.

You spooked as Kid suddenly stood, using his devil fruit to unhook and pull your leash behind him as he cut through the infirmary and dragged you out to the main deck. The rest of the crew was still crowded around, eagerly awaiting Kid's decision, quickly standing to attention as Kid appeared. You'd become quite the topic of curiosity and intrigue on the ship, everyone was invested in whether you would be kept around, and betting pools waited patiently for Kid's answer.

“Where's Dive?” Kid barked. The small green haired girl came skipping forward gleefully, excited to be summoned.

“Yes boss?” She smiled wide, showing off her sharp teeth.

“I've got an important job for you,” he leaned down a little to address her, “go to my workshop and clean it up for me. Work hard and don't come out till you're done, and as a reward I'll let you get anything you want at a candy store next time we make land.”

“Yay! Okay boss!” She squealed excitedly, quickly skipping off and running up the stairs to the stern castle. There was curious silence on the deck as Kid watched her go, waiting until the young girl had disappeared into the stern castle before speaking again.

“Everyone make a circle,” Kid barked, and his order was quickly followed. Kid pulled you by your leash into the centre of the circle, and you suddenly felt very small. You looked to the other commanders for support, but Heat seemed just as confused as you, while Wire wore a knowing grin that made you nervous.

“This here is the new ship whore,” Kid smirked, “she's usually off limits for you losers, but I'm feeling generous today.” Killer took that as his cue to step forward and cut your clothes from your body, running a punisher blade under the fabric and pulling away the ruined scraps, leaving you bare to the entire crew, minus the minor. Kid used his fruit to weld the end of your leash to the metal at the base of the mast, before standing behind you and holding you against him with a hand on your throat. He forced you to keep your eyes on the hungry wolves circling you, making your thighs unconsciously clamp together - whether for friction or self defence, you weren't sure. “Anyone who wants a turn, today is your lucky day. But wrap your cocks you gross fucks, I don't want to catch your fuckin’ warts when I fuck my whore next. Girls, be sure to take advantage of that pretty face.”

Kid let you go and stepped back, forcing his way through the crowd to head up to the forecastle deck where he'd get a nice view, followed by the other commanders, leaving you to the wolves. You stood awkwardly in front of them, their eyes all hungry, mouths practically salivating, as they all looked at your bare body, a few of the men already palming themselves through their clothes. House, who had no interest in any of this, momentarily disappeared into the infirmary, coming back out with several boxes of condoms which she shoved into the arms of the closest crewmate, before disappearing back into the infirmary to deal with some paperwork. The boxes were quickly torn open and distributed, as the first few crewmates came forward - Reck and Quincy.

The two of them circled you like predators, Quincy removing her large crown-like hat and handing it off to someone else. She had always seemed so sweet and aloof, so it surprised you when she was the first to grab you, pinching your face in her hand as she forced her tongue into your mouth, making you whimper and rub your thighs together. Reck grabbed you from behind, pressing his clothed erection against your ass. His hands groped at your soft tits, subtly supporting your stance as he kicked your legs open to give Quincy access. Quincy's hand was quick to find your cunt, running two fingers between your folds and holding them up so everyone could see how wet her fingers were as she rubbed your slick between her pointer finger and thumb. The crew closed in further as they saw how aroused you were, beginning to call out both praises and degradation, calling you a good girl, a pretty little slut, a greedy whore. It made you even wetter, and Quincy was surprisingly rough as she ran a hand through your hair and grasped it hard, pulling downwards and forcing you to your knees.

Heat was watching the whole thing with nervous anxiety. He barely handled letting the other commanders touch you, but watching the whole crew looking at you like a piece of meat, palming themselves through their clothes and whispering to each other all the things they were going to do to you, it made him possessive. He didn't like people touching his things, he didn't like people messing with things from his precious hoard. His hindbrain had registered you as part of his collection the moment you'd jumped on his bed, and he twitched nervously watching Quincy and Reck touch you. “Heat, easy,” Wire whispered, putting a hand on his shoulder to try and ground him. He could feel how tense Heat was, and knew well that he had the most trouble between the commanders when it came to reeling in his more monstrous instincts. Everyone on this crew was his friend, but you should never come between a dragon and his treasure, no matter the type of dragon.

When Quincy forced you to your knees, something cracked in Heat. The little whimper you made registered in his mind as pain, not the arousal that it was, and he was shifted to his wyrm form and flinging himself down to the weather deck before Wire could grab his tail. He coiled around you, pushing Quincy and Reck away, hissing at them and baring his sharp teeth at the crew. Everyone took a few steps back, understanding that Heat had lost control and was genuinely dangerous now. If they didn't think he had claimed you before, it was certain now what you meant to Heat. Quincy pouted and looked up at Kid, waiting for the captain to intervene so she could go back to playing with you.

“Heat, back off,” Kid growled.

“Mine!” Heat shouted back, coiling tighter, almost tight enough to squeeze the air out of you.

“Last warning Heat,” Kid said in a low voice, “you can back off, or you can be punished.”

Killer stood sternly at Kid's side, and Kid whispered something in his ear. The first mate quickly disappeared to the stern castle, while Kid used his devil fruit to summon a length of chain and Wire descended the stairs from the skull deck. He approached Heat as one might approach an angry alligator, arms out, ready to grab him. Heat hissed at his best friend, making it clear how out of control he was, and made no move to release you. Kid's eyes flicked behind you, to where Killer had returned, and gave him a nod.

Like lightning Killer and Wire were grappling at Heat, Killer slipping a muzzle over his face while Wire pulled on the sensitive end of his tail to force him to loosen his grip on you. As soon as he did, making a shocked whine as Wire took advantage of this weakness, Killer grabbed him under his arms and started dragging him backwards, while Wire grabbed you and pulled you away from Heat. As soon as your bodies were separated, Kid wrapped the chain around Heat, sending him backwards to crash against the mast with a loud thunk, chaining him to it, his long tail thrashing wildly until Wire and Killer secured it.

“You should have behaved,” Wire tutted, making sure the muzzle was secure. Heat spat at him through the gaps in the rounded metal cage, and Wire tsk’d as he wiped the spit from his face. That was all Wire needed to shift to the role he was familiar with as Heat's usual dom, and he knew every one of the wyrm's weaknesses. Heat made a stuttered gasp as Wire stuck his fingers in the slit where Heat's cocks were sheathed, toying with his cocks inside the wet folds and making Heat whine. “You're gonna be good now, do I make myself clear?” Wire growled, “you're gonna stay here and you're gonna watch the crew fuck your precious treasure, and you're going to learn how to share properly or I'll make sure you never have her again. Use your words, tell me you understand.”

“Y-yes master,” Heat whimpered as Wire removed his fingers and slapped Heat with the same hand, leaving a wet, red print on his face. “I'll- I'll be a good boy.”

“Good,” Wire hummed, looking back at Quincy and giving her a nod to continue. Wire and Killer returned to the skull deck to observe, as the crew began to close in on you again. Quincy pushed you back down to your knees, a soft folded towel placed under them this time for protection against the hard wooden deck.

You watched hungrily as she stood in front of you and stripped off her bloomers and frilly panties, along with her giant bow and beaded belt, then she hooked a leg over your shoulder, pressing her back to the mast for support, right next to Heat who squirmed and thrashed to try and get to you. You barely had time to register that the carpets did in fact match the drapes before she was pulling your hair hard again, forcing your face against her wet cunt. You immediately got to work eating her out, moaning against her pussy as Reck knelt behind you and spread your knees, reaching underneath you to slip two fingers inside your cunt and begin stretching you out. You were overly aware of the sloppy sounds your pussy was making and the rustling of fabric around you as the crew got into various states of undress and started masturbating as they watched Quincy use your face and Reck finger fuck your greedy hole. A few even began jerking each other off, Hop opting to grind her ass against Noe, while Hip started playing with Emma's pussy, knowing the pink haired girl would be too shy to do anything on her own.

Reck pulled you back a little and you whined as his cock rubbed between your folds and slipped inside you, taking no time before he started pounding hard into you, forcing your face harder against Quincy. She held your hair hard to stabilise you, rolling her hips to ride your tongue. Kid was right - she was loud, entirely unabashed as she moaned and used your mouth. Heat made soft needy whines as he watched, his cocks unsheathing on their own accord as he longed to be the one inside you. Hop took note, she and Hip exchanging mischievous looks before Hip left Emma in Noe's care.

“Two of them!” Hop purred, running her fingers along the underside of Heat's cocks, “aw, look how they twitch! So cute!” Heat hissed as Hip knelt and gave one cock a kitten lick, Hop following suit with the other, the two of them peppering kisses and featherlight licks and touches over his cocks and scales as he fought against the restraints.

“Don't let him cum,” Wire instructed them, “he doesn't deserve to cum.”

Heat made pained whines as the girls continued to tease him, the sounds making you moan against Quincy's cunt. With Reck's hard thrusts pushing you against her, it didn't take long for Quincy to finish, pulling your head back a little by your hair and furiously rubbing her clit in front of you until she screamed and squirted on your face. Her pleasure pulled you to your own peak, clamping around Reck's cock as a creamy ring formed around the base of his condom. Quincy bent down and gave you an affectionate kiss before leaving you, still dripping from her release.

“See Heat?” Wire called from the skull deck, “see how good our Mouse is? See how well behaved she is? Why can't you be like her. Look at your pathetic cocks leaking, you act like you don't wanna watch others fucking her, but you're just a pathetic little cuck aren't you?”

“Pathetic little cuck!” Hop parroted with a laugh, “aww his cocks are so red and needy, I bet if we leave him like this he'll cum anyway!”

“Go on then Heat,” Hip laughed, “prove to us you're not a cuck, I bet you cum without anyone touching you!” The two girls stopped touching him, but Hop continued to whisper nasty things in his ear, holding his horn so he couldn't turn away from her. Hip returned to Emma, who Noe had already made cum once, cooing to her what a good girl she was as Noe held her up on her shaky legs.

Reck flipped you around and pushed you on to your back, your chain rattling against the wooden deck, and he continued his rough treatment of your cunt. You felt suddenly very exposed now that you could see everyone watching and masturbating. Heat was right above you, looking down at you with a desperate and forlorn expression, his cocks bobbing untouched and needy. You watched Hip lead a very nervous Emma to you, encouraging her to take a seat on your face. “There you go, Em,” Hip cooed, as Emma squatted and sank down, nervous that she was going to suffocate you. You encouraged her by pulling her down as best you could with your bound wrists and eagerly reaching your tongue up to swipe through her folds. “Just like that, use the whore's face,” Hip encouraged as Emma finally began to relax, “that feels good, doesn't it?”

Emma made shy little whines above you, and Hip sat on your chest so Emma could use her shoulders for support, kissing Emma to distract her from all the watching eyes. You vaguely registered the grunt and splash of warm fluid against your tummy as Reck pulled off his condom and finished on you, quickly replaced by someone new, who you'd see later was Papas. He was a little smaller than Reck in the equipment department, who must have been a little above average, but he knew how to use it. Reck had got you most of the way to another orgasm, so you quickly unravelled and came on Papa's cock, moaning against Emma's pussy. Everyone cheered for you, the humiliation of cumming in front of the whole crew making you whine. Hip groped at your tits and abused your nipples with harsh pinches, making you buck and writhe under her. Emma's moans were quiet and reserved but slowly got a little louder as she got close, a near constant pleasured whimper from above you, paired with Heat's frustrated whines. Hip focused her attention on Emma, slipping her hands under her shirt to play with her tits gently instead of the mean treatment she'd been giving you, rolling her nipples to give her the last push of stimulation she needed to cum.

“Good girl, Em,” Hip cooed as Emma panted above you, having released a small gush on your tongue. You lapped at her carefully, knowing she would be sensitive but wanting to give her that last little bit of pleasure. “What a good girl, did the whore's face feel nice?” Emma gave a little sleepy nod and Quincy helped her up. You barely had time to catch your breath before Hip was taking her place, having quickly stood and stripped her leggings and shorts. She sat with her back to Papas, giving her a good position to grip your hair and use you roughly the way Quincy had. You could also see her face from this position, and she gave you a shit eating grin that reminded you a little of Wire. Her mouth was dangerously close to Heat's cocks, his hips rolling and chains making metallic strained noises as he tried to get a cock against her, even just to rub his tip against her lips, anything to get stimulation. She laughed meanly at him and blew air on his cocks, making precum bead and roll down the undersides as Heat growled.

Papa's finished with one last grunt, emptying into his condom and cursing that he'd wanted to finish on you like Reck had. Noe pulled him away by the hood of his sweater, eager to take his place, holding your thighs up against your stomach so you were practically folded in half, and spitting on your cunt more out of principle than need. You were nothing short of soaked right now, but being spat on made you shiver, feeling unbearably empty until his cock slid inside you. Noe was an average length but girthy, and you mewled at the new stretch. He was kind enough to give you a few moments to adjust before he started moving, his thick shaft pressing firmly against your g-spot and making your toes curl.

“Such a pretty little human,” Hip cooed down at you, “pretty little mouth, doing such a good job!”

“Pretty little pussy, too,” Noe added, “takes me well for a human, so fucking tight though. Fuck, I'm gonna cum quick after watching you girls ride her face.”

“Cover her in it,” Hip ordered, “I wanna see this pretty little whore get frosted, I'm gonna squirt on this cute little face.”

Hip squatted a little over you, giving you a perfect view of her cunt as she fingered herself, pumping her fingers fast in and out of her pussy and making obscene squelches until she moaned and threw back her head, giving Heat a cruel smile and cumming with a significant gush of fluid over your face. You weren't sure you'd ever seen such a grand amount of squirt, you were truly impressed. Hip gave your dripping face a playful, wet slap and stood, wiping her hand on Heat's face to clean the cum from them. Noe wasn't far behind her, adding to the milky splashes of cum on your stomach with a grunt.

Hop took over next, and you expected her to ride your face as well, but instead she took charge of the situation. She pulled you up by your hair until you were kneeling, and you were quickly surrounded by men and needy erections. Hop moved your head for you, forcing you to bob your mouth on each cock in turn - Bubblegum's, Moai's, Haikei's and UK's - making sure each man got plenty of turns, and that your mouth was going far enough to gag you each time. Heat's cocks were off course left neglected, but Hop made sure he had the best view in the house. The taste of the latex condoms wasn't pleasant but you had bigger fish to fry, every now and then looking up and catching Heat's sad brown eyes as he struggled to get to you. Your hands were utilised by those not currently being sucked off, and Bubblegum opted to push your tits together and thrust his now uncovered cock between them, the head of his cock occasionally bumping against your neck and smearing precum over your chest. Hop got off on others getting off, and cooed praises for how deep you took the men's cocks and how much you were drooling. The saliva ran down your chin and neck and added to Bubblegum's lubrication, smoothing his glide as he fucked your tits.

“Cum on her face!” Kid called from the forecastle deck where the commanders, sans Heat, were still all watching.

“On it, Captain!” UK replied, pulling off his rubber, gripping your hair and furiously fisting himself in front of you. You closed your eyes in anticipation, soon feeling the hot splashes of cum on your face as UK groaned. Kid cheered from the deck and UK forced your mouth open with his thumb, playing with your tongue before letting you return to Hop's control. Heat growled like a rabid animal, trying to bite UK as he moved to leave, making it clear why he'd been muzzled. He hated seeing someone else's mark on your face, smelling their scent coming off you, but at the same time his cocks twitched violently, his stomach pulled tight as he tried not to cum.

You continued alternating between Moai and Haikei with your mouth and hands, and soon Bubblegum was finishing on your chest, making eye contact with Heat with a crooked grin as he doused you with a violent spray of cum over your tits. He was replaced by Oscar, but as your mouth and hands worked the three men, you began to feel a familiar urge in your abdomen. You'd been leashed to the mast for a while now, and you were in great need of a toilet break. It wasn't helped by Hop, who was now kneeling beside you and playing with your pussy, her palm occasionally pressing against your mound, adding pressure to your very full bladder.

“Mm- Ne-nng,” you mumbled around Haikei's cock. He removed himself with a raised brow, careful to let you speak in case you needed to stop.

“What's wrong baby?” He cooed, running this thumb over your bottom lip.

“Need to pee,” you huffed, to which Hop pressed hard against your bladder on purpose, making you whine. “Hooooop”

“What? I'm just helping,” she teased, “go ahead and piss yourself, whore.”

“Noo!” You whined, “just… give me five minutes!”

“Come on now, Mouse,” Kid berated from his spot, “you're the one who wanted this, you said so before we docked at Sabaody! This is your initiation! You're not done till everyone that wants it gets a turn!”

“But-” you whined.

“No excuses, Mouse,” Kid growled, “prove you belong here. Either hold it in or let it go, there's no shame here, just fuckin’ piss.”

You did your best to hold it, managing another ten minutes of dick sucking and Hop pushing on your bladder before you couldn't do it any longer. You tried your best to squeeze your thighs together, but Hop wouldn't let you. She was purposefully doing everything she could to fuck with you, and you couldn't see her mouth behind her mask that covered the lower half of her face, but you could tell by the glint in her eye that she had a smug grin. Everyone waited eagerly for the flood gates to open, and when the first trickle of piss ran down your thighs everyone cheered. You whined and squirmed as the towel underneath you got damp with piss as the hot liquid ran down your legs, and Hop cooed praises in your ear, rubbing your clit until you came on her hand. It felt strange to cum while you were still peeing a little, it was different, but not bad. You made the mistake of looking up at Heat, whose eyes were wide, focused on the space between your legs at the trail of hot piss coming from your cunt. His eyes flicked back up to meet yours, and with a stuttered groan and furrowed brows his cocks twitched and he came, cum dripping on the deck in front of you as he swore under his breath.

“Good little piss slut,” Hop cooed, rubbing your oversensitive clit and making you wriggle, the last of your stream going directly into her palm and flooding over, “look at you go, look at you pissing yourself like a good little whore. Not like this pig over here. Cumming like the disgusting cuck he is, tsk. Look at that, he almost got me with his gross cum.”

You were too fucked up to reply with more than a tired mumble, and it was clear to everyone that you were run through, leaning forward to rest your head against Heat's tail as his spent cocks withdrew back into his sheath. He whined, wishing he could give you comfort but unable to reach you with his bound arms. He looked up at Wire in a wordless plea, hoping he'd noticed your exhaustion. Wire of course did, giving Heat an understanding nod, and stepped forward to speak to Kid. “She's done,” he told the captain, “she needs to rest.”

Kid grumbled, not liking being ordered around, but Wire was the most experienced on the crew with things of a spicy nature, and everyone trusted his opinion when it came to sex and kink. If Wire said you were done, then you were done, there was no arguing with him on matters of safety and limits.

“Alright losers, I'm bored,” Kid barked his excuse to the crew. He didn't want them to think you were weak, when really you'd taken a great deal more than most could. “Finish up and give me my whore back.” Kid turned to Wire as he prepared to head off, “clean her up, you can use my tub. Make sure she's all good, she's one of us now. Leave Heat on the mast until nightfall, he still has a lesson to learn.”

Those who were left took their opportunity to finish on your face or tits, and you were left a cum and piss covered mess, only kept upright by Hop. It was strangely familiar after that, each crewmate taking their turn to welcome you to the crew and offer kind words, like you weren't dripping with semen and half asleep, kneeling on a towel soaked with your own urine. The commanders finally descended from the deck, and Wire helped you to your feet, using his cloak to wipe some of the more annoyingly placed cum from around your eyes, then he scooped you into his arms bridal style, far more gentle than he had been the other day.

He carried you up to Kid's floor, Killer running ahead and filling the large corner tub while Wire used a warm, wet cloth to wipe most of the gunk from you before lowering you into the water. Kid's bathroom was large and lavish, almost at large as Killer's bedroom, with a walk in waterfall shower that could probably fit all the commanders at once, and a black marble counter with two inlaid sinks, a mirror running it's length that reached the ceiling. The whole room was tiled with black marble and accented with gold metal embellishments, furnished with deep red towels and floor mats, and several expensive looking paintings of nude women hung on the walls. Killer and Wire both stripped off and sat with you in the water, touching you softly, almost lovingly, washing you with delicate motions and massaging your scalp as they washed your hair. You were barely conscious as the two of them cleaned you up, and the gentle way they held you was making it easy to doze off.

“Did I do good?” You mumbled.

“You did very good,” Wire praised, “just rest now, sweetheart.”

“Is Kid gonna let me stay?”

“He said you're one of us,” Killer answered, “Don't worry about anything for now, just rest. Being part of this crew means nobody here will ever hurt you, you're safe now.”

“Mmm,” you mumbled back, nuzzling into Wire's chest and holding Killer's warm hand.

The two of them finished bathing you as you slipped into unconsciousness, before carrying you back downstairs, carefully dressing you in an old, loose shirt of Heat's, and tucking you into his bed, even though it was only mid afternoon. It would be a small victory for Heat to find you there later, a kindness from Killer and Wire who could have just as easily left you in one of their own beds. You were so exhausted you slept right through dinner, not even waking when Heat finally climbed into bed and curled around you, though nobody was surprised.

[Next Chapter] - coming soon

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Taglist: @chershire23 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @nocturnalrorobin @eyes-ofhell @hellcatsworld @miyomoko-sora @loserbee14 @tzimiscequeen-blog @lansy-4 @luvnistuff @bbnbhm @fanaticsnail @ocean-mochi @mikeyswifie @h0n3y-l3m0n05

#one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #one piece x reader #kid pirates #kid pirates x reader #killer x reader #heat x reader #killer one piece #massacre soldier killer #heat one piece #kid one piece #eustass captain kidd #kid x reader #eustass kid x reader #wire x reader #wire one piece #monsterfucker #monsterfucker smut #monster au

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girlthatsinsane · 3 months ago

Text

ALL MINE

Carl Grimes x Fem!Reader

tags: smut, fingering, degrading, slapping, piv

‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚

Carl has always been the overprotective type, it takes nothing for him to get jealous. Talk to a guy, he’s jealous. Wave at a guy, he’s jealous. one look at a guy and he goes feral. Ever since you guys started dating it’s always been that way, and it’s not because he’s insecure he just hates the fact that other boys can have access to you. Especially Ron, Carl hates Ron at all cost. Maybe because a few years back they got into a fight, but you knew Carl hated whenever you would smile and wave at Ron, he got even more pissed when you talked to him.

See, you knew this. You knew how his eyebrows would furrow and his jaw would tighten up from the sight of seeing your smiling, laughing with the other boy. You’d always look over out the corner of your eye to see Carl, watching you with a frown on his face. And it’s not like you wanted to make your boyfriend jealous. It was because before you and Carl got together, you and Ron use to be close friends. So really, what would you look like if you just dropped him out of nowhere? Even though Carl didn’t like it, you’d always find a way to make it up to him later.

It is a challenge to get Carl to lighten up after he saw you talking to his enemy, but it wasn’t so bad. And what you mean by that is the sex. Sex with Carl was amazing, he tries his hardest to make sure you’re satisfied before it’s over. Any position you want, he’ll do it. You loved being intimate and passionate with him, but occasionally you guys switch things up. It can get rough, and kinky which leads to blindfolding, getting tied up, degrading, and ultimately the best sex ever.

This type of sex only happens when Carl is jealousy. thats part of the reason you keep talking to Ron, the sex is really that good. You loved the way he’d be gentle with you afterwards, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, and cleaning you up which leads up to cuddling with him in the end. It was the perfect ending to a rough beginning, which is why you want it to keep happening.

‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚

Sunday morning you got up, did your normal hygienic things and put your hair in two cute braids on each side. You go over to Carl’s, spending the day with him while Rick and Michonne are out busy today. You do normal things, talk, play games, watch movies, but part of your wanted something to happen. It’s been racking your brain all day trying to figure out how to ease your way into some action, time was flying and it was getting a bit boring for your liking.

“Hey, how about we go on a walk?” Carl suggests completely snapping you out of your thoughts. You look over to smile and nod, getting up waiting for Carl to put his shoes on. As soon as he was done you step outside to feel the sun beaming on your skin, squinting your eyes due to how bright it was. You walked around Alexandria hand in hand with Carl. Holding hands was one of your ultimate love languages, he’d do anything to make sure your hand was in his whenever you stepped outside, it was like another way to send a message: “shes mine” to everyone that saw you two together.

As you continued walking you spotted someone familiar, Ron. You look away and focus on getting past him so Carl wont freak again like last time.

but isn’t that what you want?

I mean, this could be a way good way to get what you’ve been day dreaming about all day. Maybe one small chat wouldn’t hurt. “Sorry, Carl” you think to yourself. As if on cue, Ron turns around and spots you. He smiles and waves you over, you smile back but feeling something squeeze your hand. It was Carl, basically warning you to not go over there with him.

You look down having second thoughts about the plan you just created ten seconds ago, even though it hurts him now it’ll be so good for the both of you two in the end. And you just have to have him, you smile at Carl “Im gonna be right back, ok?” He glares at you, his face full or warning as he lets go of your hand. He huffs but stays silent, allowing you to go talk to the boy right in front of you. Smirking to yourself you skip over to Ron starting a conversation. You see Carl, watching his teeth clench and walking in circles getting irritated on how long you two have been talking already.

Maybe you should take it to the next level. Now, what is the next level? You don’t know of course but one thing you do know, if a man touches you even slightly. He gets pissed. Thats what lead to your next action, slightly touching Ron’s arm being all smiley and giggling to every word he says. It was obvious that jealousy had completely filled Carl’s body, because a few seconds later he marched over to where you two were standing, grabbing your arm tightly yanking you away from Ron. “Time to go.” His expression indicated that Carl was mad, he was livid.

I hope you know what you got yourself into

You barely had time to process what was happening until he was dragging you across the street by your arm, his grip tightly stinging your wrist. “Carl- what are you do-“ “Shut up.” He interrupted simply warning you to not go any further with this. He let go of you once you got to the house, relieving the small sting attached to your wrist. “Upstairs.” He said, his voice deep and cold. You loved this, the way he talked and the sound of his voice was enough to get you off by itself. Trying not to smile you sprint upstairs to his room, heart racing trying to predict what would happen when he got up there.

While sitting on his bed, you hear his footsteps take his time up each step was slowly driving you insane, wondering if he was actually mad or going to ruin you in every way you wanted. Pulling you out of your thoughts once again, the door swings open but then shuts tightly, hearing the ‘click’ sound of him locking the door behind him. Feeling his eyes on you making your skin burn you look around to him eyeing you, the look in his eyes hungry and lustful. “Why were you talking to him?!” He says in an ominous tone.

“w-what?”

“I said” He takes a few steps closer, getting an inch close to your face. “Why were you talking to him.” Your loss for words just encouraged him even more. “To make me jealous? Touching his arm like that, baby you know how that makes me feel.” His tone softened. tilting his head to make direct eye contact with you. You bite your lip in response, you couldn’t tell him you just wanted him to fuck you dumb.

“I’m sorry..” You whisper weakly to him. Not taking much notice to the apology, he slammed his lips into yours kissing you roughly. You whimper in response to him pushing you down onto the bed, crawling on top of you his hands drop down to the button of your jeans trying to undo them. You pulled away taking off your shirt and unclipping your bra while he worked on your jeans, clawing at his shirt “Please..” Was all you could say in the heated moment that just had gotten started.

He pulls back from you. “So you did want this” He states pulling his shirt off in the process. While stripping each other from their clothes and unmentionables, Carl attacks your neck sucking harsh dark purple spots spreading from your neck to your chest in an instant. “Fuck Carl please- just-“ You moan grabbing his shoulders trying to get his attention. Thats when you felt it, burning and stinging forming onto your cheek. Carl slapped you. You look up at him wide eyed feeling the tears build up, grabbing onto your cheek. You were going to cry but not because you didn’t like it, it was because you loved it. The feeling of receiving the pain you just experienced had you soaked, he noticed that too. “You’re mine. Ok? You’re all mine.” He demands. The feeling, the tone, everything about this scene that made it so lewd turned you on even more.

His hands made its way down to your soaking cunt, his thumb circling your clit earning a gasped out of you. “You’re soaked, you like it when i hit you baby?” His eyes focused on trying to read your face. You shake your head vigorously up and down, blabbing on about how you loved the slapping. He smirked at how vocal you are already, adding a finger to your eager hole. “What baby you like that? You like when my fingers are inside you?” He chuckles a bit at your loud response forming an “o” shape with your mouth. “Please please- don’t stop carl please.” You beg to him as he pumps his finger in and out of you in a fast pace.

Reacting hungrily he leans up to take your nipple in his mouth sucking urgently. “Close..” you mumbled, your body still filled with pleasure. You feel your hole tighten around his finger as his thumb still rubbed your clit faster and faster. “Come on baby- cum on my fingers.” He says as you came down on his fingers as told. Carl pulled his fingers out of you, drenched in your liquids he shoved the fingers into your mouth telling you to taste yourself and suck. After sucking his fingers clean of your cum he grabbed you by the waist and flipped you on your stomach, pulling your waist up so your back was arched.

Your breath hitched as you felt his tip slowly entering your pussy, gripping onto the sides of the bed already. Feeling how good his dick was stretching you out made you see stars, he thrusted once, then twice, hearing you moan his name he started at a steading pace. “So tight baby, such a slut f’me.” he slurred while slapping your ass, feeling the sting of every slap he gave you made all of this worth it. “Could’ve just asked for me to fuck you instead of talking to him.” Carl says angrily hitting that spot as he speaks. You bury your face into the pillow below you, muffling your screams of pleasure. Soon with him speeding up the pace going in and out of you brutally you feel the knot in your stomach once again.

“Carl- please.” You whimper trying to silence your moans, pushing back onto him to meet his thrust. He pushes your head down into the pillow, one hand gripping your waist so tight you’d probably see bruising later. “F-fuck y/n.. baby ‘m gonna cum.” He breathes as his thrust gets sloppy. “I’m all yours Carl- please just-“ A moan ripping out of you as you reached your high. His hands wrap around you tightly, squeezing your lower stomach as he came in your hot, wet cunt.

As your bodies calmed down, he slowly pulled out of you causing you to whimper at the loss of being filled. He flops onto the bed right next to you where you’re collapse on your stomach. “You’re mine ok? He doesn’t get to have you like i do.” He states turning his head over to you. You pull yourself onto your side to look at him. “Of course he doesn’t, Carl. I love you.” You reassure him sweetly, placing a kiss on his lips.

“I love you more y/n.”

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a/n: don’t flame me if its bad!! writing smut is SO hard :(((. xo

#carl grimes #the walking dead #carl grimes smut #carl grimes x reader #twd smut #carl grimes fanfiction #smut #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x you #twd carl #carl grimes twd #i love carl grimes #carl grimes x fem!reader

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banggyu0308 · 1 year ago

Text

genre: internet strangers to lovers, idol au, smut

warnings: nsfw under the cut, not very coherent, slutty yeonjun, dom!yeonjun, sexting, choking kink, pet names (baby), praise, drinking (they don't get THAT drunk, alright guys?), one night stand-ish, degradation, unprotected sex, breeding kink, handholding, cursing, dacryphilia, yeonjun lurks on social media TT, reader is bold ASF, not proofread

wc: 2.5k+

an: tysm for the username help @itgirlgyu TT + this is just for the delulus + @beomsl MEL YOU REMEMBER WHEN WE TALKED ABT PART OF THIS???? + i might title this later but who knows!!

taglist: @full-sunnies , @agustdiv1ne

yeonjun who likes to wear his tank tops to show off, loves heading onto moa twitter and tumblr after lives just to see the fandom having a meltdown... especially hard stan social media, watching all the comments and photos of himself show up. he likes being in control like this, having the power to make everyone else go crazy just by wearing something else that day.

he scrolls and scrolls and one specific post pops up, it's community labeled and when he clicks 'keep reading', he can see why; pretty tits on display from the original poster, comments in the tags all about how she's all his, and he's not very surprised to feel himself growing hard in his pants. yeonjun eyes the username, ready to click the blue-fonted 'follow' button, but it's already gone, and his eyes widen to see that it's an account he's been following and interacting with for a while. that fact only makes it better, and he's clicking to his chat with you before he can even think it through what he's about to do.

yawnchoi you look really pretty in that new post...

yn what can i say? yeonjun brings out a special part of me 😭

yawnchoi im very sure he feels the exact same

yn in my dreams 😭 don't fuel my deluluness

yawnchoi i'm being very serious right now

yn mhm mhm sureeee and how would YOU know? 😑

yawnchoi ajksdbwsjdhbw maybe this wasn't a good idea

yn WHAT wasn't a good idea, hm? 🤨

yawnchoi baby all i'm trying to do is figure out how to word that i'm yeonjun 😭

yn i do not believe you for one moment

yawnchoi i'll send a pic that i would never, ever post and you can even reverse image search it or whatever or i could send a video, im not messing around baby

yn go ahead then ;-;

yawnchoi [sent a photo]

yn alright so yeonjun would definitely never post a photo of him in his boxers in bed so imma need that video 🙏

yawnchoi [sent a video]

yn oh. oh holy shit choi yeonjun has seen my tits- NOT ONLY HAS HE SEEN MY TITS HE LIKES THEM- one sec imma need to process haha im totally not hyperventilating haha

yn alright im back hi haha

yawnchoi helloooo 👋

yn wow. alright. so. uh. how do i ask this- you wanna see more tit pics?

yawnchoi THAT WAS SO BOLD HELP ME- but yes pleaseeee

yn [sent a photo]

yawnchoi oh baby- holy shit you're so pretty 🥺

yn thanks jjunie kwsnbdwjkd im still like- going crazy rn yawnchoi thats cute baby :((

yn wjhbswhjdhj so- since you've seen my tits i wanna see you again :(( preferably your dick but haha

yawnchoi yeah? pretty baby wants to see my dick?

yn kjwbshwjdbhe yes please?

yawnchoi asking so nicely... alright baby~ [sent a photo]

yn oh 😳 oh fuck alright sjbdsewjh wanna touch :((

yawnchoi me or yourself, baby?

yn well, both, but only one can happen, right? so me-

yawnchoi go ahead, can i see? yn alright 😳 [sent a video]

yawnchoi baby's so pretty :(( wanna see you cum for me <3

yn [sent a video] would be better if you were here :( want you to touch me so bad wjbwjhdbe

yawnchoi can fly you into korea if you want...

yn YOU'RE KISSING *KIDDING

yawnchoi i'm notttttttt dekjbdekj pretty cunt's got me all horny :((

yn i don't even care if it's a one night stand choi fucking yeonjun's gonna fly me out to korea to fuck me heck yeah

---------------------------------

and he does. books a flight last minute for the next day, from your country to seoul, puts on a pair of sunglasses and his least conspicuous outfit, and drives to the airport. he isn't THAT nervous- it's not like he thinks you're gonna murder him.

and when you walk out of the airport building with nothing but a backpack with you, looking around and waving slightly when you see him, his heart quickens just a little. (and NOT just because he's seen you naked).

you decide to sit in the back of his car for no reason other than you want to, and maybe a little bit because you can't exactly handle looking at him straight on quite yet.

to your surprise, there's no awkward small talk, just him getting straight to the point and saying all the members are out of the dorm currently, but, ever the gentleman, he says since you flew a long way, you can sleep a little bit first and he won't bother you.

your whole body is on alert and you find yourself thinking that there's no way you'd be able to sleep now. it's one thing to sext someone knowing they're an idol- another to actually be in the car with them, on your way to where they live, and knowing you're going to actually fuck them.

yeonjun politely takes your bag when you get out of the car, and when his fingers wrap around the strap, his hand brushes yours slightly. you internally feel like you might faint- you hadn't actually prepared yourself for this, and now he was touching you and he feels real and you knew he was real but now it just feels extra.

holding your bag, he opens the door to the dorm, leading you in before following, taking you into his room and placing your bag down on the floor next to his bed. every single action that takes him closer to you makes your face grow hot, the bed dipping slightly under your weight when you sit down. the sheets are soft, but your mind barely registers it, focusing instead on the fact that you are in yeonjun's bed.

he opens his mouth to say something, and you panic, cutting him off quickly with a wry grin and a statement. "i might need some alcohol in my system before we do anything else."

yeonjun raises his eyebrows in the slightest, a little surprised, but he also gets it. he's pretty sure both his body and his mind want you way too much right now, but he's so nervous he might not do anything. his hands are twisted in his lap and he quickly realizes and sits on them instead before standing.

he leads you to the kitchen, getting himself a can of beer and letting you pour yourself a couple shots of vodka. you know your limits- it's just enough for you to get a little tipsy and stop overthinking everything.

knocking one back, you enjoy the burn in your throat before taking the second. the slight buzz under your skin makes you smile slightly, leaning against the counter while he takes long sips of his own drink. it's obvious he wants this to pick up, so you busy yourself messing with his shirt just a little while he drinks. you slip your fingers under his sleeve, mindlessly rubbing your fingertips back and forth over his skin. you can tell he remembered your comments the previous day about his arms, basing his outfit around that.

he has another tank top on today, arms flexing when he brings the can to his lips to take another sip, and you move your hands a little farther down to rest on his chest. this time, when he lowers the can, his lips are a little wet from the drink and you can't help but press a messy kiss to them, licking the liquid off. yeonjun lets out a slight hiss when your tongues meet, left hand reaching behind him to place the can on the counter.

the alcohol must really be working already because you're both stumbling to his room, messily tugging each other's clothes off, and yeonjun leaves a line of wet hickeys up your neck. each and every touch of his skin on yours makes you feel fire burn a trail across your body, but it's in a way that makes you almost absolutely sure that it's not just because he's one of your celebrity crushes, or because you're a little drunk.

yeonjun's movements are so rushed that in seconds he's on top of you, his own shirt off, pants quick to follow once you tug at them. your hands find way to his newly-lightened hair when his lips and tongue meet yours again, a different kind of intoxication weaving itself up and over each of your limbs, the kind of intoxication that makes you want to live and breathe this man.

"want you," he whispers, cheeks pink from the alcohol, his eyes slightly glazed when he looks into yours, and the way he says it makes your cheeks grow hot again.

"go ahead then, 'm all yours," you exhale in response, trying to ignore the way your heart twinges at your own words. this is just a one time thing, you have to remind yourself.

but yeonjun's eyes light up and he presses another kiss to your lower lip, one hand moving between your legs to part them. his eyes lower to your cunt, and you can feel the way your underwear are sticking to your pussy. you'd chosen to wear white underwear today and you're pretty sure they're see-through by now, drenched completely from all the feelings yeonjun's touch is sending through you.

"all mine?" yeonjun mumbles, eyes wide. and when you nod, he smirks slightly. "love your cunt so much, i might just take you right now." your own eyes widen and yeonjun can feel your breath hitch. "but you'd like that, wouldn't you? pretty slut would love her jjunie taking her raw, would love to have me cum inside..."

you suck in a breath through your teeth at his words, nodding quickly, spread out on the bed beneath him. your mouth tastes like alcohol and yeonjun, and your brain tries to forget how he so flippantly called himself your jjunie.

"jjun, just, just fuck me, please?" you whimper out when he rubs a fingertip over your clothed cunt.

"baby asked so nicely, might as well give her what she wants," he coos, tugging off his boxers only once he slides your underwear down your legs. "promise you'll let me taste you next time?"

you nod, too distracted by the fact that he's already planning a 'next time' in his head to realize that he wants to eat you out, but by the time you understand, he has the tip of his cock pressed to your entrance, other hand holding yours as he slowly pushes in. the gesture feels sweet, romantic even, and you let your eyes fall shut when he pauses his movements.

yeonjun's body is pressed flush to yours in a way that allows him to brush his fingers over your neck, skin smooth against you. his hand wraps loosely around your neck and his breath is hot on your cheek when he whispers, "is this okay?"

you nod once more, only because the combination of the alcohol and his body on you is making your brain so fuzzy you can't think clear enough to speak. yeonjun hums lightly and experiments with his grip, making you gasp a little when he also hits your g-spot. he lets out a hiss when your already-tight walls tighten further around him.

he'd had a feeling that you'd feel like heaven around him, just because of the fact you had stated you were only able to fit two fingers inside yourself, but he had obviously underestimated all the sensations that were going to overwhelm him like they are now. every movement of his hips towards yours makes him fight to control the tremble of his body. your hand is linked with the one he doesn't have around your neck and every time he buries himself completely inside you, your hand tightens just a little around his.

he's losing himself just a little, hand still laced with yours, pace quickening until jolty, broken, high pitched moans are the only sound leaving you. yeonjun can't help but smirk at that, hoisting one leg over his shoulder. "fucking pussy is so perfect, almost like it's made for me, taking me so well... might just keep you here, my personal little cumslut, could bring you on tour with us, fuck you every night in the hotel room, how'd you like that, hm?"

his rhythm is so brutal you're choking on your words by now, broken sobs slipping through your parted lips, tears filling your waterline and then slipping down your cheeks, mixing with the slight mascara you'd put on this morning and making your face a mess. yeonjun likes it too, the way he's so easily able to get you like this, just a few words from his lips and you're crying.

he can't help but tell you this with a mocking pout on his lips that turns into yet another smirk, chuckling when all you can do is whimper incoherently. yeonjun kisses you gentle enough to make up for his harsh words though, he's only trying to make you feel good, and he knows you like it when he talks down to you.

one hand still around your neck, the other moves from your hand to your waist, and he's only fucking into you harder when you whine out that you're close. his lips catch yours again when you gasp out his name, gummy walls fluttering around his dick as your whole body shakes from the force of your orgasm, yeonjun's fingertip rubbing at your clit making you convulse under him.

yeonjun bites back a little moan and lowers his lips to your ear again. "can i cum in you, baby? let me make you mine?"

you can't tell if he's just saying it in the heat of the moment, but you nod, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you.

he bites his lip slightly, only losing control completely when you lick up the side of his neck and bite a splotchy hickey onto his neck. his warm cum fills you as he mumbles out a string of curses mixed with your name against your neck.

yeonjun practically collapses on you once he pulls out but lets himself take a second to marvel at how pretty you look right now, mascara leaking down your cheeks and neck, his cum and yours leaking from your swollen, abused cunt.

you let him wrap his arms around your form, cheek against his chest, both your bodies hot and sweaty, his bangs plastered to his forehead. there's a question on the tip of your tongue but he answers it for you, mumbling in your ear, "will you stay? for longer than just today?" yeonjun pauses slightly, then continues. "i'm not sure if i want you to be just one time. i know that this part of our relationship is new but we've been talking for so long and yeah, i don't want you to go back home and for this never to happen again."

you purse your lips, alcohol fogging up your brain and making you a little too sleepy to respond. "we'll talk tomorrow, hm? it's late and i had a long flight and i'm tired, jjunie..."

he nods slightly, running a hand through his hair, and presses a kiss to your forehead. "goodnight, yn."

"night night, yeonjun," you exhale.

you're almost half asleep when you hear him whisper, "the others'll be home soon, if they see us like this, i'm blaming you..."

#ada speaks :)#adas hard hours #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #yeonjun smut #yeonjun hard thoughts #yeonjun hard hours #yeonjun fic #txt fic #txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #this yeonjun reminds me of yeonjun in one of my fics and i LOVE it #may add this to the list of things to write part 2's too #not my fav endings but i had to #its IMPORTANT

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jqafterdark · 1 year ago

Text

Seeing S/O in Lingerie Reaction

From a request in my main blog, this has no smut but VERY SUGGESTIVE so... yeah ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Sebastian Moran, William James Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes, and Louis James Moriarty

Tag/s: Historically inaccurate lingerie

Sebastian Moran

The man whistled as soon as you entered his field of vision.

He looked like a kid in a candy store.

Straight up GRINNING from ear to ear.

If you're showing him a variety, he'll inspect every single one of them.

It's almost alarming how focused he looks.

Little do you know, he's thinking about how to use whatever lace or strings your outfit has to his advantage in the bedroom.

The minute you're within his reach, Sebastian pulls you to his lap to get a closer look.

He takes his time to take in your figure while his hands roam through your body.

Even as you walk away, his eyes never leave your figure.

Like you were one of his targets on missions.

He would definitely tease you, wanting you to get riled up as much as he is.

What's more annoying is he wants you to say that you want to do it before he continues.

He's torn between taking it off or just doing the deed with it still on you.

Whatever position you're in, he definitely has a good view of you.

A mirror might be involved.

"I'm back-" Sebastian abruptly stopped as your eyes met in the mirror, wide in shock.

His eyes traveled down to your new short silk nightgown and stockings, going up and down before smiling.

"You could have just said so," he chuckled, removing his coat as he walked up to you.

You quickly grabbed whatever was closest to you, in this case, a hairbrush, and pointed it at him as you kept a distance.

"Oh no, you don't! Last time, I chased the target through the city with a limp!" you muttered, keeping your distance as your eyes never left him.

"Do you have a mission tomorrow?" Sebastian innocently asked, making you pause.

"...No...?"

"Then that settles it," he smiled, quickly hugging your waist.

"SEBASTIAN!"

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle. Wouldn't want your pretty outfit to rip, now do we?"

William James Moriarty

When you asked him to come with you to go underwear shopping, he was shocked, to say the least.

But he quickly recovered and agreed.

You definitely have his attention now.

While his eyes kept following you while he drank his tea, his smile was different than it usually was.

It was more... devious, so to speak.

While he keeps his composure, a lot has happened in his mind.

While you were picking some things, William acted like a perfect gentleman.

Holds the clothes you picked, heartfelt compliments to boost your confidence, over all the best boyfriend you could ask for.

Almost too good to be true. And it was.

He might have thought of a few scenarios on how the two of you could get away with it in the store.

It helped that it was a pretty private dressing room, considering the store was made just for the nobles, where it was just you and him.

Even the workers were far from earshot, attending to the other customers at the front.

But he didn't continue since he saw you enjoying your little date and didn't want to ruin your good mood.

It didn't help that you would ask him for help to put some of them on, though... Or take them off.

Besides, he has the whole night planned just for the two of you, and he's making sure no one would bother you two.

You hummed happily as you swung the bags in your arms, satisfied with your purchases.

"I'm surprised you agreed to go shopping with me, Will!" you mused as you turned to William, "Didn't you have a meeting later with everyone? Wouldn't you be late?"

William gave you a smile as he grabbed your hand, "The meeting was moved since some of the professors were out sick,"

"Is that so..." you trailed off, shrugging off his response.

William quietly chuckled, remembering the surprised expressions his comrades had when he said the meeting was canceled and assigned a new mission to everyone.

The manor was now empty until morning.

"Well, whatever! I can't wait to try these at home," you beamed, looking down at your new haul.

"Indeed," William agreed, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Sherlock Holmes

He never saw the appeal of the lingerie until he saw it on you.

Now, lace is his favorite thing on your body.

The first time he saw you in lingerie, it was like he shut down.

He didn't say a word, but his eyes were glued to you as he reached his hand out to you.

When you walked up to him, he eyed every inch of your body, engraving the image of you in his mind.

To him, you looked ethereal.

Like beauty personified.

When he did speak, it was soft and breathless, as if you rendered him speechless.

And when you did it, the sight of you in lingerie and covered in hickeys he left is now his favorite thing.

He gets more possessive whenever he sees you in lingerie.

And surprisingly more gentle and slow, wanting to enjoy every second of it.

Now, every time you buy a new set, he likes having a private fashion show.

When you bring him to a lingerie store, he is not embarrassed at all.

Hell, he'd even pick out a few things for you.

You can tell his compliments are genuine with how serious his expression is.

"Sherlock?" you called out, slowly walking up to him.

His eyes were completely wide as he looked at you.

"Sherl?" you called out again, but no response as he continued to stare at you.

You bit your lip as you covered yourself, feeling self-conscious wearing nothing but a bustier with matching underwear.

"Don't,"

"Huh?" Sherlock quickly grabbed your hands, pulling them down to your side.

"Don't hide it. You look beautiful," Sherlock breathed out, mesmerized by your outfit as his eyes slowly looked up at you.

You felt your face flush as you looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

"You're staring too much,"

"I disagree,"

Louis James Moriarty

You almost gave the man a heart attack.

He was not expecting to see you in lace and sheer one night after a long day of house chores.

Was it an unwelcomed surprise? No. Definitely not.

That night, he was just hoping to have some downtime with you after working the whole day.

So when he saw you by your dresser half-dressed putting on stockings, it was like the man turned into stone.

Minutes later, Louis came back and saw you in your robe, relieved to see he was okay.

His face became completely red when he remembered what happened and apologized for walking in on you.

Even though you forgave Louis, he's still scolding himself for liking what he saw.

What's more, his eyes would gaze over your robe when it would slip.

Explaining why he slammed his head on the table was interesting, to say the least.

So when you told Louis it was okay for him to look, he was still shy. But you would catch him stealing glances your way.

He tries to compliment you, say anything coherent for that matter. But he just mutters something while looking at the ground.

However, the moment he got more confident, his hands would not let you go.

Suddenly, he's fluent in dirty talk and knows just what to say to get you in the mood.

And he makes sure you know just how beautiful and alluring you looked that night.

"I truly apologize..." Louis muttered, a cold towel over his head as you chuckled, tying the robe tightly around your waist.

"Don't be. I'm just surprised," you reassured as you removed the towel, making Louis meet your eyes.

You weren't sure, but you swear you saw his eyes tracing your robe down to your chest.

His face turned completely red instantly, making him turn away.

You breathed out a smile as you hugged him tightly, kissing the top of his head.

"I'm really not mad, Louis!" you giggled, swaying side-by-side.

"Besides, that was for your eyes only, you know?" you grinned, making the man freeze as steam came out of his face as you snickered.

"Please don't tease me..."

#yuukoku no moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty smut #moriarty the patriot smut #sebastian moran #sebastian x reader #ynm sebastian #william james moriarty #william moriarty #william moriarty x reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #ynm sherlock #louis james moriarty #louis moriarty #louis moriarty x reader

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rubyreduji · 1 year ago

Note

🧸 first of all, HAPPY RUBYREDUJI DAY??!’ kkbbj?!?!!? secondly, i would like to request an nsfw drabble~ for dino or hoshi with a breeding kink (because im 100% sure these 2 have one) and them being really obsessive in a sense like “you’re mine” typa thing!! like having a quickie after a member’s birthday and you’re just fucking in the car with your formal wear riding dino’s cock, would love how you could write this 👁️ thank you jj if you do my request! 🥰 have a good day hehe

— join the sleepover!! 🧸️

summary: chan loves his friends, he does not love when his friends are all over his girlfriend

tags: smut (minors dni!) warnings: explicit unprotected sex, car sex, rough sex, dom!chan, possession/jealousy, breeding kink, choking wc: 2.1k an: not affiliated w/ misamo but still stream do not touch. i tried to make chan be possessive without being like overly toxic jdfskla i hope it worked

You look good tonight. Too good.

It’s been driving Chan crazy since you two left the house; your figure wrapped in your short, tight satin dress, the maroon color popping against your skin. If it was up to Chan he wouldn’t have even let you leave the bedroom.

Alas, you two had plans and you wouldn't allow Chan to skip his hyung’s birthday party, especially when the hyung is Seungcheol. So here you two are, in the middle of a rented out venue, celebrating Seungcheol’s birthday.

The issue with having you as girlfriend is that all of the boys adore you and Chan…well Chan is unfortunately a very jealous person.

His eye twitches as he watches you serve the cake to the boys, each of them shooting you big smiles, their hands lingering on yours a little too long as they take the plate from you. Twelve touchy men who are not Chan, having their hands all over someone who should be for Chan only…he’s not sure he’ll make it out of the night alive.

“Babe you want some?” Chan’s forced out of his fuming to see you staring at him, holding out a piece of cake. Chan smirks and stands, taking the plate and wrapping an arm around your waist before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Yeah sure, thanks babe,” Chan says. You send your boyfriend a confused look but ignore him, brushing him off to dish out the rest of the cake.

“You know,” Joshua says as he stands up as well, “you really don’t have to be doing that. Here let me.” Joshua’s hand clasps around your wrist, sliding down to your hand to take the knife from you. He rests a hand on your back, his body a little too much in your personal space.

“Oh no Josh, I’m fine!” You assure him but Joshua persists.

“C’mon, let me do the rest. You just sit down and keep looking pretty okay,” Joshua tells you with a wink.

You roll your eyes as you sit down, but Chan doesn’t miss the slight grin on your face and his eyes narrow at the man now serving the cake. Joshua either doesn’t notice, or pretends not to.

The rest of the night Chan can barely rest, too busy shooing his friends away from his girlfriend. Everytime Chan is able to turn one hyung away, a new one is all over you, and everytime Chan pushes them away, you give him a strange look.

By the time the night is winding down, Chan is all fired up. His final breaking point is seeing Seungcheol hug you goodbye, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he does so. Chan’s eyes burn into your back, glaring at where Seungcheol’s hands rest in the small of your back.

As soon as Chan bids the eldest man goodbye, he quickly ushers you to the car where you look at him with exasperation.

“What has been wrong with you this whole night?” You ask.

“You! No, I’m sorry, not you. Well yes you, because you look so good in that dress and it’s driving me crazy, but everyone else! That’s what’s been wrong with me.”

“You have an issue…with your friends?”

Chan groans. He doesn’t understand how you don’t get it. “I have an issue with their hands all over you. You’re mine, they can get their own girlfriends.”

Chan knows he sounds childish, but he can’t help it. Not when he can’t get the image of Vernon’s hand on your arm or Soonyoung’s thigh brushing up against yours out of his mind.

“Chan,” you start, but Chan cuts you off.

“Do you know how good you look? I’ve been dying to ravish you since the moment you stepped out of the bedroom. And everyone’s had their hands all over you. Everyone but me. Isn’t that unfair, baby?” Chan’s body leans in closer to you as he talks, his voice dropping to a whisper at the end.

Without waiting for an answer, Chan starts to press kisses to your neck, each one lingering a little longer than the last. If you were to push Chan away right now and tell him to stop, he would start the car and drive you two back to your place no problem, but from the shuddered breath you take, Chan doesn’t think that’ll be the case. All it takes is for you to tilt your neck slightly to give Chan more access and he’s pouncing on you.

Chan doesn’t waste a moment connecting your lips, kissing you deeply. His hand slides over your clavicle, restings against your bare skin as his thumb grazes against your neck. You kiss him fiercely, a desperation hidden under it.

“Chan-” you gasp out, pulling away from your boyfriend. “I need you now, I can’t wait.”

Chan groans slightly, his cock stirring in his dress pants. A small part of him feels victorious as he reaches over to push your car seat back, giving him space to crawl over to the passenger side and lean your seat back. He gets to have you like this, needy and impatient in the venue’s parking lot, while the rest of his friends have to go home, alone.

Chan places a knee on the seat to brace himself as he leans down to kiss you harder, a hand cupped around the back of your neck, his fingertips playing at the hair on your nape. Your own hands fumble at his neck, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt as well as you can with minimal focus. Your hips squirm in your seat until they connect with Chan’s knee, and you grind down, finally getting some relief to your aching core.

You start to whine as Chan trails his kisses down your throat and to your chest, his mouth on the top of the curve of your breast.

“Such a pretty girl,” Chan coos in between kisses. “In this sexy little dress, teasing me all night. Nobody could keep their hands off you, let alone their eyes.” Chan reaches up to push the thin straps of your dress down your arms, pushing the top of your dress down until your boobs are left bare.

Chan’s mouth is hot as he wraps his lips around your nipple, his tongue darting out to flick at the bud. Your body shivers, your back arching up slightly at the contact. Your hands fly up to grip at Chan’s strong shoulders, your fingers bunching up his dress shirt. Your hips grind down harder as you cry out.

“You’re so sensitive baby,” Chan mumbles against your skin. “Are you that worked up?”

“Yes,” you whine. “I need you so bad. Stop teasing me Channie.”

Chan chuckles, pressing a kiss to the bottom of your jaw, before reaching down to unzip his pants. He pulls his cock out of his boxers, not bothering to fully take his pants off. You’re clearly not in the mood to wait for him to do so, and Chan would be lying if he said he wasn’t also dying to get inside of you.

You stare up at your boyfriend with hooded eyes as Chan jerks his length to full mast. He then reaches down, pushing your legs further apart so he can brush his fingers up against your clit. Your breath shudders at the feather light touch and you push your hips forward in hopes to gain more friction.

“Look how desperate you are for my cock,” Chan smirks. “You’re soaked, baby.”

“Chan,” you whine.

Chan chuckles at you before pushing your panties to the side, not bothering to strip you either. He lines himself up, his tip sitting against your entrance.

“Chan just fuck me,” you beg.

“Not yet, baby. You gotta tell me what you know I wanna hear. Can’t you do that for me, doll?”

Chan is expecting some push back from you, but instead you quickly blurt out the words Chan’s been wanting to hear all night, “You’re the only one that matters. No one even exists when I have you. Don’t need anyone other than you and your cock, don’t want anyone other than you and your cock. I’m all yours.”

“Fuck, such a good girl,” Chan groans as he finally allows his hips to push forward, his cock sliding into your dripping pussy. You moan as you feel the stretch of your walls around his cock, your fingers once again gripping onto Chan.

Chan’s mind blanks out a moment, the pleasure of your warm, wet cunt squeezing him already too much for him to handle. With a deep breath Chan steadies himself and gets to work thrusting into you. Your legs clamp around his waist and he grips one of your thighs with a strong hand, holding you place as he slams into your cunt over and over again.

You reach up, tugging on Chan’s tie and pulling him down to connect your lips once more. Your lips pressed together drowns out your whimpers as Chan licks into your mouth, pushing his tongue into your mouth. The only sound filling up the car now being the wet squelch of Chan’s cock sliding in and out of your leaking cunt.

Chan pops his mouth off yours once more, moving his mouth to your neck where he starts to nip at your sensitive areas. “Fuck baby, your cunt is so tight. Squeezing the life out of me.”

“You feel,” you gasp in between your words, “so good Channie.”

Despite the dark night outside of the car, the street lights glowing through the fogged up windows gives Chan the perfect view of your fucked out face and the way your tits bounce with each thrust. You look fucking amazing, but Chan thinks you could look even better.

Without warning, Chan pulls out of you completely, and you let out a gasp that quickly turns into a whine. Chan pats your thigh, “Turn over.”

You quickly follow the command, turning over so your knees are braced on the seat and your face is pressed into the headrest, your hands clamped down on the shoulders of the seat. Chan hikes your dress up your back, revealing your pussy to him, and he lines himself up once more before slamming into you unceremoniously.

Your moans quickly resume as Chan plows into you, harder and faster this time. He grips your waist tightly, no doubt bruising you in the process. Chan’s tip hits against your g-spot, sending waves of pleasure through your body, and he can feel the way your walls clench down on him. Chan can’t have you cumming just yet, though.

Your boyfriend reaches forward, his hand sliding over your throat as he leans down so his mouth is right next to your ear. “Can’t cum yet, doll. Not when you were being a bad girl tonight.”

“P-please,” you beg. “Let me cum. I promise I’ll be good.”

“Then you gotta say it baby. Let me hear it.” Chan’s fingers press a bit harder against your neck.

“Fuck,” you whine. “I’m yours. All yours and only yours and nobody else’s. Nobody else can touch me when I have you.”

Chan grins and picks up the brutal pace of his hips. “That’s fucking right. You’re mine. They can all flirt with you and do whatever they want, but at the end of the day it’s my cock you’re being ruined on.”

“C-can I cum, please?”

“Are you gonna let me finish inside of you? Give you all my cum so I can knock you up and they can all see who you really belong to? Who this cunt belongs to?”

“Yes, yes!” You cry out. “Cum in me. Claim my pussy as yours.”

Chan groans, your words going straight to his cock. “Shit baby girl, cum all over my cock.”

At Chan’s words your cunt squeezes tightly around him, your walls pulsing against his cock as you reach your high. The feeling sends Chan over the edge as well, spilling his seed into you. His hand drops down from your neck as he rests his head on your shoulder, panting as his hips stutter inside you.

“Such a good girl,” Chan mutters. “Letting me breed her pretty pussy.”

When you two finally come down from your highs and Chan helps you clean up with some spare napkins in his glove box you two sit in the car, waiting for the windows to defog.

“I can’t believe we just fucked in this parking lot,” you mutter.

“You’re the one who begged me,” Chan says, not willing to take the blame for this one.

“Well it’s your fault for practically jumping me in a jealous fit of rage. You know the boys are only like that to rile you up,” you tell him.

“Yeah,” Chan admits, before smirking, “but are you really complaining about the outcome?” Chan’s eyes flick down to your lap, the knowledge that his cum is currently leaking out of your pussy into your panties present in both of your minds.

You blush and look away from him. “Just drive us home.”

Chan laughs, knowing that no, you’re not complaining at all.

taglist: @ckline35 @toruro @jeanjacketjesus @namjoonbaby @n4mj00nvq @0717luv @lovelyhan @ovai @wolfgurl2600-blog @scorpiobitch88 @im-gemmy @lllucere @tulipgarland4 @embrace-themagic @sulkygyu @leejihoonownsmyheart @synthetickitsune @yeosayang @miraclewoozi @d0nghyck @soonhoonietrash @violetvoo @yongi-lee @spilled-coffee-cup @morklee02 @silverrmistt @17kwans @candidupped @ressonancee @m1nghaos @1-800-jeonwonwoo @anothershorthuman @chwecardcaptor @jwnghyuns @flwrshwa @valentxi @heavenly-mobo @pandorashbox @enhacolor @starlight-night0 @todorokiskitten @98-0603 @miriamxsworld @just-here-to-read-01 @sunnyteume @debsworld23 @seuomo @tinkerbell460 @feat-sun @kihyukie12 @hyneyedfiz @blxckswxnxge @erwins-left-tittie

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#rubyreduji sleepover!!#lee chan #dino #dino smut #dino fanfic #dino x reader #svt dino #seventeen #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #kpop #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #rru.fics #rru.request #rru.writes #★ mdni

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blossiewossie · 8 months ago

Text

— Lawless Affair

pairing : gojo x reader x geto genre : business men au (lawyers), smut rating : mature word count : 2k+

shoutout to @junqkook for helping me with learning the ways of tumblr and for helping me prep to post; i still have lots to learn but you made it less intimidating teehee ♡

— note : hihi this is my first time using tumblr and also posting on tumblr, pls be kind. also, i put down 'smut' but the spicy stuff could come in a later part (when i eventually write it, lol) enjoy!

“Ah, ____, I see you’re all set up at your desk!,” you heard someone exclaim behind you.

Spinning around in your chair, you look up to see one of your new colleagues smiling cheerfully at you while holding a woven basket full of supplies. Her silky black hair was tied up in a half-up do with a cute pink bow on it, completely encapsulating her bubbly personality.

“I’m sorry to bug you, but I brought you these!,” she exclaimed brightly, plopping the basket down. She reached in and started pulling out different items for you to use to decorate your cubicle, including a bunch more bows of various sizes.

“Thank you, uh…,” you trailed off sheepishly, glancing at the spot where you were told to wear your name tag on her shirt before realizing she didn’t have hers on.

“Oh, where are my manners?!,” she cried out loud. “I’m Utahime Iori, but you can just call me Iori! I figured since it’s your first day here with us, I’d give you a hand with decorating your spot!”

“Cut it out, would you? You’ll scare her away!,” demanded another colleague. Turning your head towards the new voice, you spot a woman with silver hair sashaying towards you, her heels clicking against the floor. She came to a stop next to Iori and nudged her before turning to you with an apologetic smile, while Iori coughed awkwardly.

“Sorry about her, she tends to overwhelm our new hires with her presence. I promise she means well,” says the new woman. “I’m Mei Mei,” she says.

“Hi, I’m ____,” you say back, laughing as Iori sticks her tongue out at the unimpressed colleague.

You tell them you appreciate how welcoming they are, as you were feeling quite nervous about today. After all, not everyone gets a chance to work at a prestigious law firm under one of the greatest lawyers of the country.

The two women quickly assure you that you’re in good hands and the topic is quickly changed as you all started getting to know each other. Many moments, and laughs, later, you are all exchanging numbers so that you could contact each other outside of work. As the two women say their goodbyes and you turn to face your desk, Mei Mei stops in her tracks and returns to your desk once more.

“Just a final thought. I want to give you a warning,” her voice drops to a whisper, while she glances around carefully.

Intrigued, you lean in, eager to hear what she has to say.

“Whatever you do, do not let him in your pants.”

Sputtering wildly, you look back at Mei Mei with a shocked expression while she has a curious look on her face.

“I’m not letting anyone in my pants, wha-,” you start to stutter out when Mei Mei’s palm splats across your lips, hushing you immediately.

Mei Mei glances around once more before removing her hand.

“The big boss has a friend that likes to linger in here when he has nothing else to do at his own firm,” she says softly. “We cannot speak ill about him freely, but as your friend now, I must warn you. Do not fall for his games. He has slept with every new hire we have had. You don’t want to be tangled up in his mess.”

Straightening up, she looks around once more before nodding at you. Turning on her heel and flipping her silvery locks, she walks away while yelling out a loud ‘Nice talking to you, ____!’ before entering the hallway and disappearing.

Shaking away your thoughts, you straighten back towards your desk and smile amusedly at the basket left behind by your new friends. Digging through, you find a couple of bows of your favorite color and start piling them up on the side, reminding yourself to put them up before you leave for the day.

As the day drags on, you commit to your work meticulously, organizing and storing files away in their proper locations. You hear your coworkers occasionally walking around, but all is silent for the most part.

The next thing you know, BANG!

The door leading into the office area slams open and you see someone’s leg outstretched, as if they had kicked the door.

Startled, you scoot back and stand to lean over your cubicle to see what the commotion’s about as some of your coworkers do the same around you. Some of them have a wide grin on their faces while others roll their eyes and continue on their work as if nothing has happened. You notice most of the women around you are the ones keeping an eye on the door. Must be the hot-shot, you think to yourself.

The outstretched leg at the door set itself down and the man behind it walked in, exuding all the confidence in the world with his stride. You trail your eyes from his covered legs up, appreciating how well his slacks accentuated his long limbs. They continue to make their way up his torso to his chest, where he’s sporting a snug, white button-up with the top buttons lose. His matching suit jacket wrapped seductively around his arms, showing off their physique as he swung them nonchalantly by his side. Finally you raise your eyes up to his face and your breath hitches in your throat.

His eyes — they’re like the color of ice, but there’s more to it. They’re almost paradoxical, the way they sparkle with light but also glint with a hint of darkness. Paired with such breathtaking eyes was his unique hair color, as white as snow. The man was a walking epitome of winter, beautiful yet dangerous. And his smirk, that tied it all together.

Before you was an angel with devilish intentions.

You swore you could see the women in the room swoon instantaneously as the mysterious man waltzed his way around, stopping to chat with different people. Clearing your throat, you duck back down into your seat and try your best to continue where you left off in your work, suddenly feeling a rush of heat between your legs.

Jeez louise, you think to yourself.

Never in your life has a man made your body react like that from just looking at him. Sure, you’ve read some spicy stories here and there that made you want to touch yourself, but just his mere presence is making you feel more than all those stories combined.

You bite your lip as you continue typing, trying to ignore the conversations around you. Soon after you started to finally concentrate and your shoulders relax, a deep hush fell across the room as another set of footsteps make their way into the room, this time from your right side, where the boss’ office was.

“Ah, Satoru, I thought I’d find you here,” said a velvety voice.

Looking up, you realize your boss has stopped right in front of your cubicle as he spoke to the mysterious man. You recognize his voice from when he joined the human resource manager’s call to congratulate you on getting the job, but now you finally get to put a face to the voice — and what a face it is.

His eyes were closed as he smiled towards the mysterious man, making the latter return it with his own smile. His arms were crossed lazily, making his built arms and his toned chest puff out of his navy blue suit. His hair was tied up messily into a bun, with strands coming down the left side of his face, framing it nicely. You could see his ears, pierced and adorned with dark circular earrings. He stood tall, his frame towering over everyone but his friend, who had started to stroll leisurely towards him.

Gods, does being attractive come with being a lawyer?

“My, my, is that any way to welcome your friend, Seguru?”, said the man, Satoru.

You file that name into your memory, making sure to keep it there for later.

You peek through your lashes as the handsome man finally stops in front of your cubicle as well. Squeezing your thighs tightly, you listen as the two lawyers chat absentmindedly and try your best to type quietly. You do your best to tune out their conversation out of respect, but you can’t help stealing glances at them

As you went to look up at them once more, you realize the man Satoru was now looking at you curiously while your boss continued talking. Your breath hitches again as you stare into his twinkling eyes. Time seems to slow as all you can see is him.

You don’t realize your boss stopped talking until he clears his throat to get his friend’s attention, swiftly ending the intense eye contact between you both. Blushing bashfully, you glance back at your boss to see he was already staring at you with an eyebrow raised. He smiles and turns, facing you now.

“Ah, ____. I forgot to come introduce myself to you. I am Seguru Geto, we talked briefly on the call with Mr. Yu, the human resource manager.”, he said proudly, reaching his hand out to you.

You shake his hand as you spoke, noticing how small yours was in his.

“Hello, Mr. Geto. I’m honored to meet you!”, you say brightly, returning his smile with one of yours.

Your boss' smile widens as he turns his body slightly towards the mysterious man and stretches his hand out to him with his palm up.

“This is my friend and the owner of our sister firm, Satoru Gojo. You’ll see him here as he tends to visit us quite often while he lets his fellow lawyers pick up his slack.”

Your hand is suddenly lifted, taken by the handsome man himself, as he places a gentle kiss on it, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Hello there, ____.”, he says slowly, as if tasting your name on his lips, his smile now a smirk once more.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Gojo,” you stutter out, yanking your hand back to your chest. You can feel your cheeks heating up again as you shyly look up at him. He sends you a wink as Mr. Geto wraps an arm around his shoulders and starts walking back towards his office, hollering for everyone to get back to work and apologizing for the interruption.

Your eyes follow their leaving forms, trying to decipher if this is real life. Before the door to the boss’ office closes, you see them both stopping to chatter, glance your way with smiles, and exit the room.

You look back to your computer once more, feeling the same heat rush between your legs from before. Now it wasn’t just because of Mr. Gojo, but also because your boss is an attractive specimen as well. A naughty thought of being with both of them crept into your mind, making you bite your lip intensely. The air around you felt warmer than before.

Leaving your desk, you quietly tell the clerk to the side of you that you’ll be going to the bathroom, getting a thumbs up in return. You quickly make your way down the hall to where the bathrooms are located. Rushing towards the sink, you turn the faucet to the cold water side and wet your hands, bringing them up to your face and neck as you look at yourself in the mirror. You notice your bottom lip was a bit red, bringing back your earlier thoughts. The sudden thought of being with both of your senior lawyers made your pussy tingle.

Groaning, you throw your hands back under the cold water to try and distract yourself from your naughty thoughts. You think back to your friend’s warning from earlier. Curiously, you wonder why she didn’t give you a heads up on how much of a hunk your boss was as well. Maybe he’s married, you thought as you dried your hands. Tossing away the napkins, you straighten up your blouse and skirt before nodding at the mirror in satisfaction.

Spinning on your heel, you make your way out of the bathroom and into the hallway. Turning back towards the office area, you walk forward — only to slam into a wall.

Faltering back a couple steps, you feel a pair of hands reach out to steady you.

Quickly apologizing, you look up to see none other than Mr. Gojo looking down at you with a concerned look.

“Are you alright, ____?”, he says, looking you over, probably scanning for any injuries.

“Yes, I am. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you-,”

“This is why I told you not to walk backwards,” said Mr. Geto abruptly, rushing forward from behind Mr. Gojo, stopping behind you to look at you as well. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

You realize now that both men are standing on either side of you, each one scanning your frame from the front and back. You look back up towards Gojo, his eyes now settled back on yours, an eyebrow cocked with a sideways grin. You glance back behind you to see Geto’s eyes surveying your body, lingering on your behind for a moment, before bringing them back up to meet yours, a mischievous smile gracing his lips. You swallow the lump in your throat and cough, before nodding to both of them that you’re okay.

The two men make eye contact before looking back at you and nod as well, both of their eyes twinkling as if there was an inside joke that you missed out on. Shuffling your weight from one heel to the other, you apologize again for not looking at where you were going and excuse yourself so that you can go back to work.

Walking away quickly, you couldn’t help but hear them chuckle to themselves as they talked in hushed tones. Before you reach the end of the hallway and enter the office area, you turn your head back to look at them — only to see them already looking at you with matching smirks on their faces.

Sitting down at your desk, you only had one thought on your mind as you tried to continue your work once more:

What a first day at work this has been.

#jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader x geto #gojo smut #geto smut

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roseykat · 8 months ago

Text

TITLE: Venom Eater

SUMMARY: Moving on proves its challenges. Not everyone has the ability to accept that what happened, happened - and what was, was. So as you try to lead a new life, single and trying to heal, the journey proves to be far from easy. It’s worse than difficult and more painful than what you could’ve imagined. The only comforting source is that what will be, will be. And there’s no changing that.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with me, my work, or page whatsoever.

TAGS: mentions of breakups, exes, angst, arguments, swearing, smut, slices of life here and there, alcohol (Jisung is drunk but there isn’t much detail on it), confrontation.

WC: 6K+

TAGLIST: @emikisses @linos-kitten @chansbabygirlsstuff @lixiespick @frogieeheart @/fuckthinking @nimx9 @/shishou1687 @inniescandy-01 @konstanceee @/rose13255 @queenmea604

Venom Biter (Part 1) | MASTERLIST

A/N: the long-awaited part 2 to Venom Biter! This was originally meant to be longer but I decided that I wanted to flesh out the plot a little bit more so things will get worse and or better who knows…

There’s never a grey area about what people do after a terrible breakup. It’s always black and white. Whether someone cuts their hair, dyes it, alters their aesthetic, or goes on holiday to escape the reality.

The gym can make for the perfect best friend to subtly take revenge on someone a person once had.

But your new best friend was Tinder. A platform of opportunities to explore and select at your perusal. Providing you with gorgeous men who were looking to fuck and nothing more than that. If Tinder wasn’t the buzz for you that night, it would be going out with friends - friends that didn’t include ones that you made through Minho.

These ones’ you would only see about once every three months then band together again as if nothing has changed in the space between. It’s not awkward when you’re around them and so far, it has taken your mind off the past two months. Since then, your connection with Minho has been one of which where-

“God fuck I’m cumming!”

Minho knows he is too when his eyes screwed shut, laying back as he lets you use his cock, “shit, so am I,” he breathes out, watching you roll your hips in a frantic craze to get yourself over the edge. You miss this.

The way that you squeeze around him is the final straw that breaks the camel's back. Minho swears towards the ceiling, back arching as his dick glides in deeper. Within a couple of seconds, his vision flashes just as white as your insides that he fills.

The top half of your body flops forward onto his chest, spent from the past fifteen minutes that you’ve been riding him non-stop. Now it’s almost possible to hear the rapid thumping of his heartbeat that violently bashes from within. Not wanting to stay in that position for any longer, you peel yourself back, hopping off his body.

“I need you out by seven,” you declare, picking up his sweatpants and t-shirt from the floor and then throwing them right at him.

Minho grumbles but doesn’t flinch, “seven? Fucking hell.”

“Well, I have to go to work so you’re not staying.”

“I figured that,” he fusses before sitting up. “At least let me use your gym here.”

You pause for a second to look at him, wondering where he gets his audacity from sometimes, “fine.”

“Thank you,” he replies then starts donning his clothes as you make your way to the bathroom for a hot shower.

This is what it’s been like for a while now - a pernicious seesaw effect of meeting up with Minho, sleeping with him (usually in the mornings), and going about your day as if he wasn’t in your guts twenty minutes ago.

It’s always a good feeling in the moment but after, there’s a lingering icky weight that you’re tirelessly towing along with you wherever you go. You’re not sure if Minho feels the same because even though you’ve talked to him a few times, there’s no talk of each other's feelings anymore. It’s not that neither of you are ready for that looming and tender conversation. It’s just as if there’s no point.

By the time you were out of the shower, Minho was still on the edge of your bed, fully clothed and ready to leave.

“I’m not making you breakfast,” you say to him, wrapping the towel around your body a little tighter.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t expecting you to,” he responds. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Can it wait until the end of the day, because I need to get ready for work.”

He groans, getting fed up, “surely you can get ready and listen at the same time.”

You rustle through your drawers for a pair of underwear and bra, “to other people maybe.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you want to use the gym, go now,” you instruct sternly, hoping that he’ll just disappear.

When he detects that he can’t get through to you right now, he gives up. It’s too early to argue, so places his hand on the door handle, opening it for himself to leave and head down to the first floor, leaving you to prepare for another day’s work in peace.

After a quick breakfast, getting dressed and decent, you grab your bags and depart. On your way out, you spot Minho using the weights while you dart past the foyer, briefly thinking about how the time to cut him off is fast approaching.

You can’t keep doing this. There’s no way to move on if you’re both still latched onto each other's ankles like how kids are with their parents. That need for one another is still present.

“Who even am I when I’m not with you?” Minho asked you two weeks into sleeping with him again after breaking up. His comment sums up the reason of ‘why you decide to keep running back to each other’.

It’s not a hard statement to understand. You’ve been with Minho for a long time, you’re both still young and haven’t dated anyone else except between yourselves. It’s like being a dog that was never socialised as a puppy, unable to interact with others because it’s not sure how.

Suppose it’s the fear and anxiety that comes with separating from your favourite person.

The world and society have become scarier than it previously was and life is not as secure when you’re not with the person who can shield you from those things. There’s no comfort, only pure vulnerability, and what better way to feel protected than to return to a lover even when there’s nothing but a feeble spark that’s left over from what was once a blazing forest fire.

Seungmin challenges that particular view of yours at dinner with Felix as well after a long day at work. He wanted to see where you were coming from but also because he’s there to force feed you the icy, sobering truth when you don’t want to hear it.

“If there’s no romance, what’s the point of going back to each other?” he asks.

“They were dating for years Seungmin, you don’t just get over someone that quickly,” Felix responds instead like he was the one being offended.

Dissimilar to Seungmin, Lix will let you down gently and is afraid to hurt you with the sharp use of words that can be sometimes.

“Supposedly,” you mutter to yourself knowing full well how fast it was for Minho to just go ahead and fuck someone else after you had broken up.

“Do you still love him?” Seungmin questions swiftly.

“No,” you respond promptly.

“If there was an opportunity to get back together with him, would you go for it?”

“No,” you answer again. “I couldn’t.”

Felix blinks, not expecting that answer, “well…then…”

“Then stop seeing him if you know what’s good for you,” Seungmin continues. “Those icky feelings that you get after sleeping with him - not good. That’s the regret you’re experiencing and it’ll never feel any better.”

There’s no crack or fault in his advice. Had you not dished out the truth about the details of your messy breakup before and after, you would’ve still been glued to the same spot. It’s important to have someone humble you, and there’s no better person to do that than Seungmin.

“Just keep thinking about it, okay? On another note, Hyunjin’s coming back from France next week so we’re having a dinner and drinks,” Seungmin mentions.

Your mind briefly departs from the subject of your ex, “is he? Has it really been that long?”

“Yeah,” Felix replies, also surprised. “You’re coming right? We’re going to have a few drinks too, and catch up.”

“What time?” You ask.

“Around six,” Seungmin answers. “Does Minho know?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” you shrug, the thought of him returning to your mind once again. “I don’t know if he’d have any interest in going since they’re not friends anymore.”

Felix recalls that factor, “that’s right. But, if the rest of us are going to be there, we should invite him too, no? Unless it’s too difficult for y-”

“It won’t be difficult,” you reply, punctuating the rest of Felix’s sentence a little too quickly. “He and I can get along for about…ten minutes before things go sour. Plus, I don’t mind not going if he wants to. I can always catch up with Hyunjin another day.”

“You’re our friend too, remember? Don’t let your asshole of an ex-boyfriend stop you from seeing us. You broke up with him, not us,” Seungmin sends you a powerful reminder. “I’ll have a chat with him so that you don’t have to.”

He has a full understanding that if you and Minho were to attempt another civil conversation, it’ll go haywire and lead to more regret that you don’t need to be feeling right now. It just goes to prove that he’s beyond correct to even assume that fact.

The minute you both try to convey how or what it is that you’re both feeling, tensions boil over. For some reason that tension is only resolved by being bent over the nearest surface and fucking it out together.

It’s not healthy.

You go to remind Minho of what he did to you which he hates hearing, not because he denies it but because he does truly feel guilty. His only saving grace to that argument was that you had both technically broken up, meaning there were no ties to one another afterwards. Still, he missed the point of the fact that he hurt you as a result of those actions. It was too fresh to have done that to you.

Even when he recognised that factor, it was hard for him to accept that he actually caused you some form of irreversible emotional harm

However, Seungmin was right in the fact that you broke up with Minho and not your friend which enabled you to leave that dinner feeling a bit better and with a clearer judgement about going forward with a decision to cut all ties with Minho. It wasn’t something to look forward to.

But what was, is the dinner in the upcoming week. It’s the prime opportunity to see everyone again for the first time in over a month.

Despite your collection of text messages and calls from the likes of Chan, Jisung, Changbin and others, it was hard to associate yourselves with them in fear that all they’ll do is unintentionally remind you of Minho. It was the same way he felt when he was clearing out his house - not wanting to be around anyone or anything that would refresh his memory of you.

Now, all you want to do is move on.

Work had a helping hand in that process. Having been so busy with things piling up, your mind was free from Minho during the day. You were able to focus on tasks instead of wallowing and thinking about whether or not to give him a second chance

If it weren’t for Seungmin texting you the details of the upcoming dinner, work-life would’ve swallowed you up whole and made you forget.

From Minnie: 6 pm we’re meeting up, Also, just a heads up, Minho said he’s coming. Take it with a grain of salt though bc he might change his mind.

To Minnie: Thank you :)

You inhale a breath of fresh air. Going to this dinner was necessary whether it was going to be difficult or not. The presence of Minho wasn’t going to stop you from seeing your friends, and with that, you decide to get ready and head straight to the venue.

The restaurant has a separate open area for functions and tables people can book out. The dim golden lighting brings a warm and cosy vibe to the venue, coupled with a beautiful earthy aroma from reed diffusers distributed around the place and the smell of promised good food. It’s a relatively fancy setting, but not to a degree where you would be denied entry if you didn’t meet a dress code.

As you walk further down, you can already see Chan and Jisung chatting up a storm in the corner while they wait for the others. It’s a relief that not many people have made it so far in order to keep as low of a profile as possible and to not draw attention to yourself. However, little by little, they will definitely notice you’re there.

Jisung is the first to spot you, his jaw becomes unhinged as he drags himself out of the booth, speeds over with his face lit up, and throws his arms around you in a bone crushing hug. He nearly squeezes and shifts all of your organs out of place.

“Do you know how much I’ve missed you?” he exclaims loudly in your ear.

Chan laughs in the distance at his best friend's behaviour, “let her breathe Jisung.”

He releases your body for a rush of oxygen to surge back to your brain, “sorry, I just can’t help the fact that I haven’t seen you in a month!”

“You Facetimed me Jisung,” reminding him of that one and only time you accepted him reaching out to you to see if you were okay.

“That’s completely different, anyway sit down,” he offers. “I’ll get you a drink.”

Without wanting to hear any protest from you, Jisung darts off to the bar nearby, ordering a beverage or two. Chan then waves out, ushering you to come and sit before you walk towards the booth.

“If I had gone another week without seeing you, I’d probably start to forget what you look like,” Chan jokes, patting his hand down on the space of cushion beside him for you to sit.

“That wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” you respond.

The second you’re seated, you can already feel Chan’s mind trying to intrude yours. There’s no point in lying to him when he’s akin to one of those Occlumens from Harry Potter, an all knowing person who can hear every one of your thoughts at will. Regardless of the fact that he’s not, it’s his parental nature which exudes that.

“Going okay?” He asks you.

You take a deep breath in and sigh out, “I could be worse.”

“You’re still here though,” he responds wisely. “And so are we.”

Chan never wanted to ask why you never told them or came to them when you first broke up with Minho. They all had to find out through one another then needed to text or ring you to confirm that it was actually real. However, they all knew that you must’ve had your reasons. Naturally, it would’ve been tough to accept let alone leaning on your close friends for support.

“Thank you,” you respond.

“Here we go,” Jisung calls out, carefully returning with two different types of cocktails. “They’re both strong as hell so don’t try to choose.”

“Not that you’d have it any other way right?” you reply, helping him with the glasses as he sits down beside you.

He pats your head as he goes to sit down and slings his arm around your shoulder, “you know me too well. Anyway, Changbin and Hyunjin are here. He just texted me before.”

Chan sulks, “what? No! he was supposed to wait until everyone else was here.”

“To be fair, they were meant to be here twenty minutes ago so Changbin is actually on time,” Jisung responds. “Anyway, how are you missy?”

“Better now that I’m with you guys,” you answer, giving him a bit of a friendly nudge before leaning into him.

Jisung grins, genuinely relieved on the inside to hear that you are. Not that you have been able to notice, but they were all worried for you at one point. The lack of information regarding your whereabouts or even the state of your well-being was concerning. It was almost like you had dropped off the face of the earth at one point, right up until you finally made the decision to start accepting people trying to contact you.

Unfortunately for your friends, they had to learn about what you were up to through Minho, and even today, you’re not sure if what he said to them was the truth. Nonetheless, they all knew at the end of the day, if they were ever unsure or suspicious of what he was feeding to them, they were mature enough to come to you to double check. If they were able to get through to you.

“Good. Now come back and hang out with me because these guys are boring.”

Chan goes to lift a finger and point across at Jisung to object his statement before Changbin rounds the corner with Hyunjin trailing at his side.

The last you saw him was some five years ago, just before he went away to an arts’ school in France to study. Now he returns taller with much more cut and distinct features and a head of light brown hair that’s visibly eclipsed his natural jet-black colour. Despite that, he also seems softer or shy when he gives everyone at the table a half smile.

“Who’d you say was boring?” Changbin prods into the conversation.

Jisung points up with his beverage in hand, “you and Hyunjin!”

Hyunjin’s eyebrows knit together with worry, “is he drunk already?”

A bright smile fashions on Changbin’s face when he notices you, “Y//N! Now it’s two welcome home parties!”

Hyunjin turns to look down at you in surprise, “have you been away as well?”

His question serves as a reminder that he has been relatively out of the loop since he’s been gone – not that you expected him to be fully aware of everything since he probably had better things to do. Hyunjin was still active in the group chat, but none of you prefer to communicate that way when hanging out is the better option. Whilst he’s missed out on a lot of stuff that’s happened, he hasn’t been so oblivious to other things.

“Not exactly,” you respond awkwardly. “But welcome back by the way.”

He smiles softly, “thank you.”

The get-together officially kicked off when Jeongin, Seungmin, and Felix arrived just before the second round of drinks was ordered. Everyone was happy to have Hyunjin back. Even for you, it was nice to see him again after so long – it was nice to see everyone in general. The setting was reminiscent of old times when everyone banded together. Whether it was at karaoke, dinner, a bar, someone’s house, or at some event, it’s always a good feeling when you’re around them.

It leads you to feel slightly upset that you haven’t seen them in so long. You’ve missed hearing their laughs, their jokes, and the safety that you feel too. But for a very painfully obvious reason, none of it seems to be the same without Minho.

“Didn’t show up did he?” Seungmin, who had been chatting up a storm with someone at the bar, walks over and takes a seat opposite you at the cornered booth. Just about all of them were alternating from the table to the bar, and a space they’d found to stand up to talk, or in Jisung’s case, dance by himself.

“Mm,” you mumble. “Which I’m sure is a good thing.”

He shrugs carelessly but with a small grin, “for your benefit. Not that I’m an expert in relationship problems but I can speak from personal experience.”

“That’s true,” you respond, remembering that he has in fact had his heart broken a few times by the same person.

Luckily for him, he’s ceased the chase and gave an account the other day at dinner of how freeing it was to be his own individual. It’s something you can only hope to achieve at this point – to be liberated from that sticky dependency you have on Minho.

It’s not love that you feel for him anymore, you’re sure of it. But it’s similar to a violent craving. His skin, voice – oh his voice. Everything about his body has you itching under the surface to have him by your side even though things end in a fiery argument, which is usually how it goes.

It wasn’t love anymore. It was dependency. A type of separation anxiety that fills you up with this icy cold feeling that won’t go away until you specifically have Minho near you. Still, deep down, you knew you didn’t love him anymore.

“Is Jisung okay?” Hyunjin ticks his head towards his friends’ direction.

Judging by the fact that Chan was holding a barely conscious Jisung up was a clear indicator that he definitely wasn’t okay. Never has he been able to handle his alcohol well and it was evident by the lack of control over his own body.

Seungmin looks over concernedly then looks down at his phone to check the time, “shit, I have to take him home too.”

He abandons you briefly to help out Chan. Both of them collectively agree that Jisung needs to go home or at the very least be removed from the bar to sober up. They take him to an empty table nearby and ask the bartender for some water. Meanwhile, Hyunjin turns a blind eye to the chaos and talks to you instead.

“How have you been Y/N?” He asks.

“Yeah, good. You? How was France?”

By the look on his face, it was as if your question brought back a whole heap of good memories to the forefront of his mind, “I couldn’t have asked for a better experience.”

“That’s good to hear,” you reply. “So have you graduated already?”

“Three months from now I will be,” he answers. “Why? You wanna come watch me walk across the stage over there?”

You consider his offer, “what if I said ‘yes’ to that?”

“Then I’d be over the moon,” Hyunjin emphasises then offers a brilliant suggestion that springs into his mind. “In turn, maybe I can show you around France and all the places I went to.”

“Is that a deal then?”

“Sounds like a solid deal to me,” he responds and whether he was joking or not, either way, it seemed a pleasant idea.

During the last hour of the dinner, you spent having an in-depth conversation with Hyunjin. From what he got up to in France, what he wants to do in the future, then covered what you’ve been doing as well

The topic of your ex-boyfriend was difficult to navigate, but you managed it well by diverting to another subject. The last thing you wanted to talk about was Minho for fear that the more you think about him, the more you’d want him.

Then again, you’re reminded once more of the fact that Hyunjin and Minho aren’t friends. He may not have any interest in him whatsoever. But it’s not like they left each other on horrendous terms. Not like how you and Minho did. Plus, it’s hard to see this fresh shade of Hyunjin in front of you, hating anyone he doesn’t like or doesn’t know.

The Hyunjin from five years ago would’ve held a grudge, but now you can see by his shift in personality, that he’s let it go.

When it came down to having to leave, everyone seemed to have their own plans. Seungmin would have the misfortune of taking care of Jisung. Felix, Jeongin, Hyunjin, and Changbin decided to go bar hopping while they were still stable on their feet and even encouraged you to come with them. It took a lot of convincing to tell them ‘no’ after you were set on heading home to the comfort of your own space.

Seungmin assured Chan that he was fine to handle Jisung, then thought it would be a polite gesture to accompany your side when you decided to walk home, regardless if it was only a minute's commute from the restaurant.

“How are you holding up?” Chan addresses the elephant in the room.

His question could be seen a mile away. It made you wonder if that was the reason he chose to walk you home since his place is in the opposite direction. Although he wasn’t confronting you, that’s exactly what it felt like.

“Somewhat okay, I suppose,” you answer.

“No, how are you really? We see Minho all the time. In fact, he won’t leave us alone. But we haven’t seen you,” he responds. “You can still hang out with us you know?”

“I know that,” you almost whine, especially after offering your ear to Jisung just for him to repeat the same words for over two hours. “I’ve been busy.”

“I guess being busy is a positive.”

“It’s when there’s nothing to do or I don’t feel good and I don’t have anyone around,” you respond and both come to a halt when you reach the entrance to your apartment building. “That’s the hardest.”

“That’s when you call us,” Chan says strictly. “I know you know this too, but all of us would drop whatever it is that we’re doing to come and help you. Not just Minho, even though I had some reservations about seeing him after what he did.”

The last parts of his words surprised you. Chan actually thought about cutting Minho off too when he found out what happened…

“So he did tell you everything.”

“Everything,” he confirms. “Including everything that you’ve both been up to now. Like how you still see each other now and then – and not for the reasons I had hoped. So why do you keep seeing him when you want to move on?”

Your eyes narrow at him, “how do you even know that I want to move on?”

“The fact that you still sleep with him but won’t pursue any sort of communication to get back with him romantically, says a lot Y/N. And I know that because he’s told me,” Chan answers bitterly, but not in a nasty way. “Your body might miss him, but I know your mind doesn’t.”

He’s bitten through the truth which you can’t seem to, his elderly brother-type personality forces you to see reason. You’d be offended if Minho tried to initiate a conversation about wanting to get back together, knowing that he’s not in any position to be making requests after what he did.

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You ask tiredly.

“I want what’s best for you,” he says. “Yes, Minho too in some way, but I told him he needed to figure out what he did on his own because I can’t help him with that. That’s his punishment.”

You supress a laugh, “thank you.”

Your short talk with Chan made you realise how empty your cup had been since you last saw him – since you last saw all of your friends under one roof. It was rewarding and it felt like home to be near them. However, his words weren’t there for you to just defer from. You had to listen to him. He was right in saying that your body misses Minho but your mind doesn’t because the next time he came around, you swore to yourself that it was going to be the last time you saw him.

But it needed a conversation, one that you weren’t even sure if you were ready to have, too scared to rip that band aid off.

As you don your bra back on and shimmy on your underwear that Minho almost tore off, you think of all the possible ways to approach this situation, bearing in mind that it does have the potential to blow up.

“W-We need to talk,” you stammer, wondering if that’s a good way to start. It’s a start, that’s all that matters.

Minho stares at you from the other side of your bed, halfway through putting on his t-shirt, “okay, what about?”

Without any warning, you blurted out what needed to - what must be said, “we should stop seeing each other.”

Heavy silence drapes over the room, except for the cogs working overtime in Minho’s brain, trying to decode your words could almost be heard. You can most definitely see it on his deadpan face. It illuminates the seriousness of the situation compared to what it was five minutes ago.

“Can you give me some more detail about that?” He requests.

“I just don’t think it’s healthy that we continue to sleep with each other when we’re not going to get back together,” you inform him.

“You don’t want to get back together?” Minho poses the long awaited question that hurts to even conjure an answer.

“Be honest, we’d be together right now if you knew that I was serious about it,” you say truthfully. “I’ll never not love you, but I can’t love you in the way that I used to.”

The sheer surprise of the conversation made Minho realise that he’s been consuming too much of a good thing. That he actually wasn’t prepared to talk to you about this. It’s been creeping around the back of his mind since you both started seeing each other casually but ignored it so as to spend as much time with you as he could even though you weren’t with him anymore.

“Right.”

“Look, just…don’t go cold on me, because I do want to talk to you about these things,” you plead with him.

“Such as?”

“Such as our friends,” you start off. “All of us hang out a lot, but I didn’t want our…breakup to stop either one of us from seeing them. They’re your friends and mine too. I’d hate for us to be driven away from them because we can’t coexist anymore.”

“Fair enough.”

You can sense that he’s already starting to shut down. An obvious coping mechanism that’s triggered by something he wasn’t prepared to hear. But while the final shreds of his rationality are still with you in the room, you make haste, and dish out the important points he needs to know.

“We might not ever be friends again even though that’s not what I’m hoping for-“

Minho stands up from the edge of your bed, cutting the rest of your sentence off in the process, “if you’re serious about everything that you just said, then I don’t want to see you text or call me first asking me to come over. This isn’t a one-sided deal that only applies to me, you have to stick to it as well.”

“This isn’t even a deal Minho. I am telling you not to.”

“What? Telling me ‘not to’ because you can’t control yourself around me? Fine. I don’t know if you realise this, but the majority of the texts between the both of us, are mainly sent from you - you asking for me, telling me how lonely you are, or how much you miss my body. So don’t start handing out instructions when you’re not going to adhere to them as well.”

There’s a viper-like sting to his words that keeps piercing your resolve. A truthful sting that seeps poison into your blood, making you feel sick and cold. He’s torn you off your high horse for a moment, bringing you back down to earth to realise that it’s not just him who needs to see reason as well.

He had a very strong argument.

Minho sighs and tails more information to his tangent, “look I will do whatever it is that you want me to do. But, if this is what you want, then you can’t deny that it will only work one way.”

There’s an efflorescence of achiness in your chest. A familiar one that you felt in the early days after breaking up with Minho. It was the same one you would feel whenever you’d have to lock the door to the spare bedroom in his house whenever he bought someone else over.

Heartbreak.

It lingers when he finally leaves with the promise of never reaching out to you again, at least for sex because there was no way of avoiding him in the future. That fact was impossible to refute. But this is what breakups consist of. Not one hairline shy off of being messy. It could, though, be much worse. That’s as much you had to be grateful for when you have to start from square one all over again.

Changing things up was necessary. You had already moved out from Minho’s, which there was no choice behind, but that meant new scenery. Different places to peruse in your own time that you hadn’t yet ever since you had moved out

It opened up new opportunities to visit some local things, especially on your way back home from work as you decide to call into a small cafe.

Soft bossa nova plays calmly in the background as you stand and deliberate on something sweet to take home with you for after dinner. If it weren’t for the many niche options to select from, you would’ve almost missed the voice talking from beside you.

“I heard the matcha bread is nice here.”

Your surprise gets the better of you, almost forgetting how to speak for a split second when you see a familiar tall figure you met once more from the other week.

“Hyunjin?”

“Hey,” he smiles. “Wanna sit down together?”

You end up ordering yourself a warm drink and a sweet pastry to go while Hyunjin found a small table right in the crook of the cafe. His sudden appearance was rather pleasant, allowing you to divert from your own thoughts for a bit. Plus, it’s always nice to sit and chat with a friend.

“I thought you might’ve been here to meet up with one of the others,” you say to him.

Hyunjin nods, putting his coffee down, “I just spent the last couple of hours helping Changbin buy clothes just down the road at one of the shopping centres, so that’s where I came from.”

You smile, “well he trusts you more than the others in that department.”

“As he should,” Hyunjin grins softly. “How are you?”

“I’m well, I just finished work and was heading home,” you respond.

“I’m not keeping you from going am I?” He asks politely.

“No, not at all,” You quickly exclaim. “The longer I stay, the more of an excuse I have not to do the mountain of things I need to for work.”

Hyunjin chuckles, “well, as long as it doesn’t get you into trouble with your colleagues.”

“I should be fine,” you hope.

“You know, when I think about it, you and I never really spoke that much back then,” he points out. “I only just realised that from last week when I saw you again.”

His comment makes you think back too

Hyunjin was definitely part of your friend group, but not one who you would hang out with individually or with another person. He was just there, almost like he was known to you by association. Aside from the fact that he’s well-mannered and kind, the only aspect of his personality that seemed to have changed is how boisterous he used to be.

Although, that’s to be expected when people mature and cross the bridge from adolescence to adulthood.

“True enough,” you reply and start snickering when you remember something funny. “But I have good memories of you though. Like when you threw that bottle at Jisung.”

Hyunjin’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, “I remember that. I could’ve killed him with that too.”

“Or when Chan had to pull you up from the train tracks because you fell off the platform and got stuck,” you add on.

“Most of those memories seem to have some type of mortal peril attached to it,” Hyunjin discovers.

“You were young,” you remind him tenderly. “They make for the best memories anyway.”

He agrees, staring into a space on the table as he reminisces, “true. So much has changed since I got back. I feel like I’ve missed out on growing up with you all even though we were just teenagers back then and adults now.”

“Maybe, but we’re still young though and some have more growing up to do than others,” you hint very cryptically at one person who automatically springs to mind. “So don’t feel sad that you’ve missed out when there’s still a lot for us out there.”

Hyunjin sits a bit more comfortably knowing that. As you both continue to talk, he realises how much you’ve changed yet somehow remained the same. You grew into your features, enhancing what was already there to a finer degree. Your looks were Hyunjin’s first impression of you when you first met as devious young teenagers.

That was before he discovered that you are as kind and cool as you come across. But you were just distant friends back then. Now, Hyunjin detected a space for that to potentially change. He wanted to get to know the friend he hung out with here and there.

Even though time threatened to cut the starting opportunity short, it was still a start nonetheless, and Hyunjin was confident that there would be other times to arrive as well. So as the baristas begin cleaning up behind the counter and around the cafe, both you and Hyunjin took it as a sign that it was probably time to head off. You both take your belongings, thank the staff on your way out and head into the night.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin says to you. “We should get coffee again sometime.”

You nod, “I’d love that. I still have your number.”

“So do I,” he replies. “What way are you heading?”

“I’m just literally around the corner, not even a minute away,” you answer.

“Okay, I’ll look forward to your text then,” he says.

I strictly forbid and do not permit ANYONE or any user on any platform to copy, re-upload, translate, remake, or pass off any of my work here on Tumblr or to any other online platform whatsoever. Doing so will result in having your account suspended, deleted, taken down, and or permanently banned.

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #stray kids fic #stray kids fanfic #lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #lee know fic

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cera-writes · 5 months ago

Note

Omg I’m in love with you remy x readers it makes me really happy to see a remy writer out there :3

I was wondering if I could request a remy x fem reader she’s a mutant with goddess like powers one of the most powerful mutants out there and her and remy have been having little on and off flings/feelings for each other since remy can’t find it in his heart to try and move on from rogue he still flirts with rogue constantly and one night readers just done with being the second choice and decides to try and move on from him and lucky her she has a surprise waiting for her when her ex bf/best friend Thor (dun dun duunnn) shows up at the Mansion wanting to catch up and she’s more than happy to since they’ve been with each other forever like since childhood before they parted ways on very good terms no bad blood whatsoever and everyone especially remy is like you dated and are friends with THE Thor and remy gets jealous of the fact Thor can make her smile so easily and they get called into a seriously dangerous mission and Thor tags along to help and keep his old friend safe and later on during the mission reader gets heavily injured due to sacrificing herself and gets hospitalized and remy realizes he’s really in love with her and is just afraid of moving on and remy and Thor have a heart to heart abt reader and thor gives him his blessing to pursue reader making him promise to protect and take care of her for him and it’s angst asf and fluffy asf and if you want sprinkle some nsfw in there :3

Sorry this is so long😭 feel free to change things up or add anything you think would make this more interesting :3

Jealousy

A/N: I really liked this prompt! I hope this was okay. I would have liked to have made it longer but I didn't want to draw the plot out too much. Hope this is alright! Pairing: Remy LeBeau x Fem!reader Tags: angst, jealousy, fluff, and smut

"Hey, chère, you got a minute?" Remy LeBeau's voice cut through the quiet of the library, his Cajun accent smooth as velvet.

(Y/n), known among the X-Men for your goddess-like powers, looked up from your book, your eyes narrowing slightly. "Remy, it's late. Can't this wait?"

He leaned against the bookshelf, a playful smirk on his lips. "Non, Gambit think it can't."

You sighed, marking your page and setting the book aside. "What is it, Remy?"

"Was jus' wonderin', if maybe you and me could sneak out later? Find some trouble to get into?" His eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was an undercurrent of something more serious.

Before you could respond, the library doors swung open, and Rogue strode in, her presence commanding as always. "Remy, there you are. We need to talk."

Remy's attention shifted instantly, his flirtatious demeanor turning earnest. "Of course, cherie. What's on your mind?"

Watching them, you felt a familiar pang of jealousy mixed with resignation. It was always like this—Remy flirting with you, then turning around and doing the same with Rogue. You were tired of being second choice. This was the last straw and you were getting fed up with Remy's antics.

As Rogue pulled Remy aside, whispering urgently, you stood up, your decision made. You weren't going to wait around anymore. Picking up your book, you headed towards the door, only to collide with a massive figure that filled the doorway.

"Thor?" you gasped, stepping back to take in the sight of your ex-boyfriend and childhood friend. He was as imposing as ever, his smile warm and welcoming. Some things just never change. He stood there, beaming like a golden retriever, waiting for you to acknowledge him.

"It has been too long, my friend," Thor boomed, his voice echoing slightly in the confined space. "I heard you were here and could not pass up the chance to see you."

Relief and joy washed over you. "Thor, it's actually so good to see you! How've you been? Have things been okay with the Avengers lately?"

You both fell into easy conversation, catching up on years apart, your laughter mingling with the quiet hum of the library. From the corner of your eye, you saw Remy watching you and Thor, his expression unreadable. You couldn't tell, but he was secretly seething on the inside with jealousy.

Later that evening, as Thor regaled you with tales of Asgard, you noticed Remy lingering nearby, his usual charm replaced by a brooding intensity. It was clear he didn't like seeing you so happy with someone else, especially not 'the' God of Thunder, Thor.

It almost seemed like old times, and you welcomed the distraction wholeheartedly. The only reason the two of you had broken up before was due to the differences between his team and yours. But you'd always held a soft spot for him, even if things hadn't worked out.

The next day, the mansion buzzed with the news of a dangerous mission. The team was assembled, and to everyone's surprise, Thor volunteered to join, claiming he wanted to ensure his old friend's safety. You protested, but he insisted on joining.

"What if your team finds out?" You asked as he sat next to you on the X-Jet. "So what? I just want to visit an old friend, perhaps an ex-lover. Surely that is excusable," he smirked. You playfully rolled your eyes at him. He was still the same as ever.

As you prepared for the mission, the tension between Remy and Thor was palpable. Each man was aware of the other's history with you, and the air crackled with unspoken challenges. The ride to the location of the mission was awkward to say the least. The two had tried to constantly one up the other amidst conversation and you'd tried desperately to tune them out.

Once you'd landed, you were more than eager to get started on the mission at hand. But this mission had quickly proved deadly in a matter of minutes. Your team was getting outnumbered.

You'd found yourself in the line of fire. Your powers had been pushed to the limit. In a desperate move, you shielded your teammates, taking a heavy blow that was meant for them. As you collapsed, both Remy and Thor rushed to your side, their rivalry forgotten in the face of your injury. You didn't know who had scooped you up into their arms, but they were a sweet comfort amidst the ache in your bones as everything went dark.

Back at the X-mansion, as you lay in the infirmary, Remy sat by your bedside, his earlier jealousy replaced by genuine concern. Thor stood at the door, his expression solemn.

"Cajun man," Thor began, his voice low, "I see how you look at her. Promise me you'll protect her, care for her. She deserves nothing less. Can you do this? Not for me, but for my friend?"

Remy met Thor's gaze, nodding slowly. "Promise, mon ami. Gambit won't let her down again."

"Good." And with that, Thor was gone.

The infirmary was quiet now, save for the soft beeping of machines and the occasional rustle of sheets. Remy remained by your side, his eyes never leaving your face as you slept fitfully. Your injuries were severe, a stark reminder of the sacrifice you had made for the team. Guilt gnawed at him, mingling with the burgeoning realization of his true feelings.

As night deepened, you stirred, your eyes fluttering open to meet Remy's anxious gaze. "Remy?" you whispered, your voice hoarse.

"Gambit's here, chère," he murmured, squeezing your hand gently. "How're you feelin'?"

You attempted a smile, wincing slightly. "Like I've been hit by a truck. But alive, thanks to you and Thor."

At the mention of Thor, Remy's expression darkened momentarily before he schooled it into a more neutral look. "Thor did what any friend would do. But it's Gambit who should be protectin' you."

Your gaze softened, sensing the turmoil within him. "Remy, it's not a competition. We all want to keep each other safe."

He nodded, though the knot of jealousy still twisted in his gut. "Gambit know, but seein' you with him... it made Remy see things clearly. Don't wanna lose you, not to him or anyone else."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a mix of fear and anticipation swirling within you. "And what do you want, Remy?"

His answer was immediate, his voice thick with emotion. "You, chère. Gambit want'chu. More than he's ever wanted anythin'."

The air between you grew charged, the tension palpable. You reached out, your fingers tracing the contours of his face, before skimming over the stubble on his jaw. "Then show me, Remy. Show me how much you want me."

Without another word, Remy leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and desperate. His hands roamed over your body, careful of your injuries yet hungry for the connection you both craved.

You responded eagerly, your own hands sliding under his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin. Despite the pain from your injuries, desire coursed through your veins, drowning out everything but the need to be closer to him.

Remy pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "You sure about dis, chère? Gambit don't wanna hurt you more."

"I'm sure," you breathed, pulling him back down to you. "Just be gentle."

With a nod, Remy resumed his exploration of your body, his kisses trailing down your neck, igniting a fire wherever they landed. He unbuttoned your gown slowly, reverently, revealing the expanse of your skin. Each touch was deliberate, a silent promise of his devotion.

You arched into his touch, your breath hitching as his mouth found your breast, his tongue flicking over your nipple. You tangled your fingers in his hair, guiding him, urging him on.

Remy moved lower, his lips and hands mapping every inch of you, worshipping your body with a fervor that left you gasping. This was something he should've done ages ago. Now he was feeling seeing what he had been missing. When he finally reached the juncture of your thighs, he looked up at you, seeking permission. When he finally realized no one else would be coming into the infirmary this late, his eyes looked at yours for consent.

You nodded, your eyes dark with desire. "Please, Remy."

His response was immediate, his tongue delving into you, tasting you, driving you wild with pleasure. You cried out, your hips bucking against his face as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

As you panted from the previous amount of ecstasy still coursing through you, Remy positioned himself between your legs, his hard erection pressing against your entrance. With one final look into your eyes, he thrust inside, filling you completely.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, your nails digging into his back. You moved together, a perfect rhythm of give and take, your bodies merging into one.

Remy's pace quickened, his control slipping as he chased his own release. You clung to him, your orgasm building rapidly, the intensity almost too much to bear. Remy growled, quickening his pace as he bit down on his bottom lip, desperately chasing his own pleasure. He thumbed your clit, making sure you came for him once more as he dove in and out of you, faster, sloppier.

"That's it chere, cum for me..."

With a final, powerful thrust, Remy spilled himself inside you, his groans echoing in the small room. You followed soon after, your body shuddering with the force of your climax.

Exhausted, you both collapsed onto the bed, Remy cradling you against his chest. Your breaths mingled, heavy and satisfied.

"I love you, chère," Remy whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

You smiled, your eyes closing as exhaustion began to claim you. "It's about time," you teased, kissing his cheek, "I love you too, Remy. Never doubt that."

As you drifted off, Remy held you close, a vow forming in his heart. No matter what, he would protect you, cherish you, and never let you feel like a second choice again.

#xmen #x men 97 #gambit x reader #cera writes #gambit #remy lebeau #remy lebeau x reader

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nicoline1998enilocin · 5 months ago

Text

The Night We Met

PAIRING || Police Officer!Tony Stark x Florist!Bucky Barnes

WORDCOUNT || 9.5K

SUMMARY || Bucky never expected that a 3 AM phone call would change everything for him. When he found out about a break-in at his flower shop, he also found love amidst the chaos.

RATING || Explicit (E)

TAGS || Canon divergence. Everyone lives AU. Florist AU. Police Officer AU. Veteran!Bucky Barnes. Florist!Bucky Barnes. Police Officer!Tony Stark. Strangers to friends to lovers.

WARNINGS || Tony is described as being tattooed. Angst. Break-in/robbery. Talk about a past traumatic event during war. Mentioned loss of limbs.

SMUT || Bottom!Bucky Barnes. Top!Tony Stark. D/S undertones. Soft Dom!Tony Stark. Sub!Bucky Barnes. Bondage: Vibranium handcuffs. Uniform kink. Dirty talk. Praise. Begging. Edging. Orgasm delay. Subspace. Oral (M receiving). Deepthroating. Implied rimming. Protected anal sex. Aftercare.

A/N || This one-shot is written as part of the WinterIron Bang - hosted by @winterironevents - and is based around the amazing artwork of @scottxlogan! I want to thank @vikwrites for taking the time to beta this story, as you have helped me bring this to a whole new level! 🤍

EVENTS @anyfandomaubingo || Police Officer!Tony Stark @buckybarnesbingo #B011 || Wearing each other's clothes @buckybarnesevents HBS Week 2 || "What should I call you?" @fandom-free-bingo Frosty || Moral support @fandom-free-bingo Pride || Pronoun badges @fandom-free-bingo Pride || "What if someone sees?" + Friends to Lovers

@fandom-free-bingo Wild || Flower Shop AU @kinky-things-happen || Subspace @lgbtqbingo || Height difference @sebastianstanbingo || Uniform Kink @winterironevents WIB #R2022 || Alpine

GIF: Source || All other graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Bucky Barnes || Tony Stark || WinterIron

When Bucky went to bed mere hours ago, he was blissfully unaware his life would be turned upside down completely, and it would all be thanks to one single phone call at 3 AM. His cat, Alpine, was cuddled onto the pillow next to him, her snowy fur brushing against his face when he was rudely awakened from his slumber by his phone going off at the ungodly hour.

While she's still purring in her sleep, Bucky quickly stirs upright and grabs his phone, groaning as he sees an unknown number calling him. A surge of panic goes through him as he considers all the possibilities that could come from this phone call, uncertainty creeping throughout his figure.

Did something happen to my parents or Rebecca? Did Steve lock himself out of his apartment again after being on the rooftop for too long? It all passes through his thoughts as his finger hovers over the alarming 'pick-up' button.

"Bucky," is all he says in a deep, rumbling voice as he picks up, thinking about strangling whoever it is on the other side of the phone line. He's never been a good sleeper, but it has only worsened since he returned from war. Some nights, he jolts awake, the sounds of gunfire still ringing throughout his head, so he cherishes every minute of sleep he can afford.

"Hi, I'm looking for James Barnes. Is this him?" the man on the other side of the line questions, and Bucky can physically feel himself relax as he hears his voice, making him feel like a weight is being lifted off his shoulder. It's a deep, soothing baritone that renders him just a little calmer, even with the vague question he got asked.

"Yes. Is everything okay? I can only assume something's going on, seeing that you're calling me at—" Bucky glances at his alarm clock before finishing his sentence, "3:15 AM." Alpine wakes up because she hears Bucky's voice. She rubs her soft head against his free hand, and her silken fur brushes against his calloused palm, making Bucky smile a little.

"This is Lieutenant Tony Stark from the NYPD, and I'm sorry to inform you that your flower shop was broken into less than 30 minutes ago. I'm currently at the scene, but it would be helpful for you to come over and assess the damage that has been done," Tony calmly explains. His words hit Bucky like a freight train, causing his eyes to snap shut in horror at the realization of what had happened.

His flower shop—the pride and joy that he has dedicated the past decade of his life to, had been broken into and completely torn to shreds without any semblance of remorse from the bastards who did it.

"I—I… I'll be there in 10," Bucky sighs before saying his goodbye and quickly getting up so he can call his best friend, Steve, to inform him about what happened and to ask him to take care of Alpine, as he didn't know how long he would be gone for.

"Buck-" "I don't have time to explain! I have to go to the shop, and you need to take care of Alp for me, okay? I'll explain later," Bucky quickly says as he puts on an old Henley, a pair of sweatpants, and his running shoes before putting his hair into a messy bun on top of his head, slipping on a jacket, and running out the door. He at least still has the right mind to grab his wallet and keys before leaving and jumping onto his bike on his way to the store.

When he arrives, however, his heart sinks into his stomach as he looks at the damage they have done. Bucky quickly parks his bike before sprinting over, tears brimming on his waterline, threatening to spill over as he takes in every inch of his ruined storefront. Multiple windows are smashed in; the remaining glass shards are shattered and littered on the sidewalk. As he walks in the empty door frame, the entire interior of the flower shop is overhauled, many stems and blooms are trampled, their petals downcast, drooping, intricately designed bouquets scattered across the floor, and the door to his office is broken into. Amidst all this, a large police team is investigating.

With a heavy feeling in his stomach, tears began flowing freely down his cheeks as he looked around, observing the desecrated state of his beloved shop. Before he can go too far, he's stopped by a man in a police uniform, but despite his large stature, Bucky is still a good few inches taller than the man, which is noticeable as Bucky looks down to meet his gaze.

"You must be James. I'm Lieutenant Stark. We spoke on the phone not too long ago," Tony explains as he flashes his police ID, which Bucky responds to with a dejected nod because he is at a loss for words right now.

"W–Why?" is all Bucky can get out as he throws his arms up in defeat, unsure of what to do. His feet sweep away a few flowers that have been trampled; their delicate petals breaking off even with a gentle push. He can't stop the tears from falling, all the work he had put into this place has been ruined, and he still couldn’t bring himself to believe it, even though he's in the middle of it all.

"We're not sure why, but what we can say for sure is that your shop has been broken into. Obviously. The door to the office has been practically busted, and the safe is clinging onto its last hinges after they took every last thing in there." Tony tells Bucky, whose fists are clenching by his sides, as he attempts to subdue his anger. The news hits him like a physical blow as Tony's words hang in the air.

They chose his flower shop out of all the places they could rob. Who even breaks into those? They could have gone for the electronics store across the street, but no. They chose to bank on the fact that Bucky was an idiot who doesn't clear out the cash register overnight. Either that, or they were hoping the poppies would get them high.

Tony’s voice was soft as he spoke. "Could we maybe check the camera footage of what happened?" Bucky’s eyes widened as he cursed himself internally for completely forgetting that he had security cameras installed in this store in the first place.

"Y-Yeah, sure," Bucky stammered before leading the way to his torn-up office, where the laptop houses the camera footage and all the other administration. Tony motioned for him to go ahead first. Buckyhesitantly steps foot into his office, which he takes in with a deep breath before leading Tony inside. The damage there isn't as bad, it was mainly the safe that suffered the most harm, but it still pains him to see.

Once Bucky's seated in the chair, he retrieves his laptop, which was safely hidden away in a locked drawer in his desk. As he pulls up the security footage, he can't help but wonder why they didn't bother to look in there, but at the same time he's also relieved that they didn't. While Tony carefully reviews the footage, Bucky leans back into his seat in defeat. Feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him, as a sniffle escapes, too.

Tony's hand landed gently on Bucky's shoulder, his voice laced with concern as he asked, "Is everything alright, James?" But despite the comforting touch, Bucky couldn't shake his head from side to side in response. His thoughts were clouded and his emotions tangled, making it hard for him to even form a coherent answer.

"I-I'm sorry, it's stupid," Bucky’s voice trembles, almost inaudible as he looks at the screen through blurry eyes, watching his flower shop being ravaged and ruined. His fists are balled in his lap as a wave of complete helplessness washes over him. A sudden sob now rips its way through his chest, the hand on his shoulder the only thing that's keeping him grounded.

"It's not stupid." Bucky’s breathe hitches as Tony crouches down next to him, concern etched on his face before Bucky wipes the tears away frantically, a rare show of vulnerability for a man who hasn't shed a tear in years, and here he is, bawling his eyes out in front of an entire team of cops.

"Your store has just been broken into, and that brings a lot of emotions along. It's not stupid to feel the things you're feeling right now," Tony reassures Bucky with a soothing smile, and he is suddenly all too aware of how Tony's hand is now placed on his knee. Somehow, between the chaos and his blend of emotions, he's also feeling something he hasn't felt in years, too, like a flicker of a small fire inside him reigniting after years of dormancy, stemming from nothing but a simple touch.

"How about this? Can you give me your number when we're done so I can keep you updated about the investigation into your store?" Tony then asks, and Bucky nods as the tears begin to subdue, a faint smile forming on his lips as he does.

"Sounds good," Bucky says softly. True to his word, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a scrap of paper, scribbling down his number and handing it to Tony. In return, Tony fumbles for his own phone and hastily enters Bucky's digits. While all the other people are done with the investigation and have packed up to leave, Tony can't bring himself to go just yet, so instead, he decides to lend a hand to Bucky with the clean-up and boarding up the empty window frames until Bucky can get them replaced by proper glass.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Stark, for everything." Bucky’s voice swelled with gratitude as he gestures with his arms to the now cleaned-up store. But a sinking feeling gnaws at his stomach. The last time he saw his store this barren was when he had first bought it a little over a decade ago, and now he can't help but feel apprehensive about starting all over again.

"Please, forgo the formalites, just call me Tony, and it was an honor to help you, James. Unfortunately, I must return to the precinct to do all the necessary paperwork, but I will keep you updated on the investigation. Good luck with the renovation of the shop,"

"Thank you, and I’ll call you Tony if you call me Bucky," Bucky says with a mischievous glint in his eyes, the corners of his mouth curling up into a playful smirk, which leavesTony blushing and makes him look endearing in the larger man's eyes.

“Good night, Bucky,” Tony says, reluctantly tearing himself away from their banter and leaving both Bucky and the shop behind on his way to do the dreaded paperwork. Meanwhile, Bucky is still standing where the police officer left him, with a large smile etched on his lips as he watches him walk to his vehicle. For the first time in years, Bucky is starting to feel something akin to butterflies in his stomach, and he can only hope Tony feels the same.

It’s been a month since the robbery of Bucky’s flower shop, and today it is time for the grand re-opening. During the entire time he was closed, he has decided to give the entire store a brand new look with the help of his best friend, Steve, as well as other people who have graciously offered their help after finding out what happened. Now, he’s busy in the shop, scurrying to get the last bouquets finished before the official opening in a few hours.

“What do you think of this?” Steve asks Bucky as he just finished setting up the table with an array of colorful pronoun badges that have been created by Bucky’s best friend in preparation to use during the re-opening. As Bucky approaches to stand next to Steve, his eyes glide over the pronouns ‘she/her’, ‘he/him’, ‘they/them’, ‘any pronouns’ and ‘ask me for my pronouns’.

“It's perfect!” A wordless exchange of grins passes between Bucky and Steve as he gives Steve a friendly pat on the back, and Steve responds with an accepting smile.

“Is there anything else I can do before I go home and change?” Steve asks as he peers over at Bucky, who just shakes his head, grateful for Steve's willingness to always lend a hand, before sending him off. As soon as the last bouquet is finished and placed in its vase, Bucky’s phone chimes with a notification, piquing his interest right away.

As soon as he sees who’s on the other end of the line, a large smile lights up on Bucky’s face, together with a faint pink hue painted on his cheeks. It’s from Tony, and he’s eager to read what he has to say. Over the course of the investigation, they’ve been talking more and more often, both about the robbery as well as other topics, which has only served to deepen Bucky’s infatuation for the other man exponentially.

Tony 👮>> Good luck with the grand re-opening tonight, I hope it goes well! I wish I could be there for you, but rest assured: I will be swinging by soon to buy some of the most beautiful flowers Brooklyn has to offer 😉

As Bucky lets the words on his screen sink in, he can’t help but smile like a mad man as his smile seems to grow to an almost unnatural size. The butterflies in his stomach are also going wild, and he can’t wait to see Tony again - but he will have to wait just a few more days in order to do so. He could almost hear his friend's deep voice and see the twinkle in his eye as he sent his well-wishes for the grand re-opening.

Bucky 💐>> Thank you. I wish you could be here tonight, too, but I’ll settle for you buying a bouquet or two once you finally have a day off 🥺

As he typed out his response, Bucky couldn't contain the joy bubbling up inside him—the thought of seeing Tony again after so long made his heart skip a beat. After one last look throughout the store, Bucky lets out a sigh of relief before heading home to prepare for the grand reopening. He takes a quick shower there before changing into a black and yellow outfit.

As he assesses his outfit in the mirror, his eyes glide over his Vibranium arm, and the black and gold of his fake limb are a beautiful complement to his outfit. A few years ago, he wouldn't have dared to walk around without a glove and long sleeves to cover it up. Through extensive therapy, he has learned that it's okay to have the prosthetic arm, and it's just as much a part of him as his flesh limbs.

Before he goes out the door, he brushes through his long locks, ultimately leaving them hanging loose instead of wearing them in his usual tied-back style. As he's walking out of the bathroom, Alpine is lying comfortably on her pillow on Bucky's bed, her soft fur practically glowing as the rays of the evening sun shine down on her.

"I'm leaving, Alp. Will you protect the house when I'm gone?" Bucky asks his cat lovingly as he scratches her behind the ears. She responds by pushing her head against his hand, soft purrs filling the room as she stretches. Bucky can't help but smile at the feline lying comfortably on her pillow as he pulls away, ready to reopen his store.

It's a beautiful summer evening, so Bucky rides his bike there today. This is a perfect way for him to let go of all the nerves that currently swirl through his body. As he drives through the streets of Brooklyn, his mind calms down immensely, and before he knows it, he's at his store, ready for the festivities later.

Bucky barely gets off his bike when the caterer - one of his best friends and the best cook he has ever met - Natasha Romanoff arrives with her team. A smile immediately adorns Bucky's face when he sees the fiery-haired woman clad in nothing but her signature black clothes, making her way over to him as an even larger smile graces her features.

"How're you feeling about tonight?" Natasha asks after enveloping her friend in a hug, now having to crane her neck to make eye contact with him.

Bucky rubs his neck with his large hand as he smiles nervously. "I'm excited but nervous at the same time. For the past ten years, I've been perfecting my store and everything that goes along with that, and it feels like starting all over again - which it is, in a sense. There's still the voice in the back of my head saying it won't be good enough, and people won't come back after seeing how it is now," he admits with a hint of defeat.

Natasha reaches for his hands, clasping them in hers as she squeezes reassuringly. "There's not a single thing you have to worry about, Bucky. Your store has been a neighborhood staple for years; people love visiting you! I know how terrifying it can be to start over, but you will be fine, I know it," she tells him, and Bucky nods.

"You're right, Nat. I needed that a lot," he says before letting his hands fall to his sides again when she lets go. After their conversation, Bucky feels about ten pounds lighter. While Natasha and her team are setting everything up, Bucky suddenly hears a knock on the front door, and he turns around to see his best friend, Steve, and his cat, Alpine. He quickly runs to the door to let them in, and Alpine immediately jumps over to Bucky to get some love from him.

"I can't believe you brought her over! Thank you for this amazing surprise, Steve," Bucky says, smiling at his best friend as he scratches the white feline behind her soft ears.

"Hey, there's no one more important in your life than Alp, so I figured I would bring her along. And you mentioned wanting her to come to the store more often, so she should be here on opening night, don't you think?" Steve says to Bucky as they walk to the table with pronoun badges.

Bucky hadn't noticed until now that Alpine was wearing a small badge with the pronouns "she/her" on it for tonight, and he couldn't help but laugh at the sight of it.

"Thank you, Steve, for everything. Thanks for the help over the past month in making the badges and, of course, for bringing Alpine tonight. Having her here tonight is an absolute must," Bucky responds with a giant smile before getting a cat bed ready, which he didn't think he would need for a little while. She will get a prominent place in the store tonight, as he places the bed on the counter next to the cash register to get all the attention she desires from tonight's guests.

Once everything is set up and ready to go, Bucky also grabs a pronoun badge before clipping it to his shirt and heading for the front door. He looks back to Steve for one more reassuring look, and then he officially turns the key to let all his friends, family, and acquaintances who have RSVP'd.

He's receiving many handshakes, hugs, and congratulations on the flower shop's reopening, and he takes it all in stride even though his heart rate is slowly rising with every person walking through the door. His eyes are looking for Steve, but he's too deep in conversation with some attendees to notice Bucky, so he takes a deep breath to steady himself and get through the remaining line of people.

Eventually, everyone's there, and it's time for Bucky to go and give the speech he prepared; a glass of champagne is ready in his hand, and the entire room is focused on him as he's about to start. But just before he can, the little bell above the door jingles, notifying everyone of one last guest this evening.

Tony Stark.

It's like Bucky's brain completely short circuits for a brief moment as he watches the other man grab a flute of champagne from one of the servers and find a place to listen to Bucky's speech. A small smile graces his face as he looks at Bucky, who can't help but smile as his brain finally catches up with what's happening.

"First off, thank you all for coming tonight to the grand reopening of Bucky's Flower Emporium! The last decade has been an amazing journey, and it all got turned upside down when the store was broken into, but I have taken this chance to create an entirely new experience for everyone," Bucky starts as he gestures into the store.

"After many discussions and considerations, we have created a safe place where people of any skill set can learn how to make their bouquets. There will be workshops for groups of up to 10 people, led by my friend and wonderful florist, Sam Wilson, or myself," he says, and Sam dutifully raises his glass in acknowledgment.

"There will also be opportunities to come by for some coffee, tea, and pastries provided by Thor Odinson, who makes the best pastries in New York! With that, you will be able to buy the amazing artwork on display behind me, made by my best friend, Steve Rogers, who has also designed all the pronoun badges you're wearing."

"And last but not least, Miss Alpine over here will also be in the store more often, so please don't hesitate to come in and give her some love as well - she loves being spoiled with attention!" Bucky jokes, and Alpine meows in response, only emphasizing his point as everyone laughs.

"Once more, thank you all for coming, and don't forget that all the bouquets you see here tonight are half off, so please don't hesitate to bring some home with you!" Bucky finishes his speech with a giant smile, his glass raised in the air before everyone disperses into conversations and looks at the bouquets Bucky has prepared for tonight.

The moment the speech is over, Bucky immediately makes his way over to Tony, who's dressed in a relatively simple outfit—but it's a significant difference from the uniform Bucky is used to seeing him wear. The shirt is open just enough to show off his broad, tattooed chest, and it's hugging him perfectly, just like his pants. The way the fabric spans over his thick thighs has Bucky nearly drooling, and the sight of it is ingrained in his memory forever.

In turn, Tony lets his eyes wander over Bucky's outfit, too, the Vibranium arm not going unnoticed. As he lets his gaze roam freely, he suddenly realizes that Bucky is dressed like one of the flowers in his shop - a sunflower, to be exact - and a small smile appears on his lips as he looks into his piercing blue eyes with his own deep, chocolate brown ones.

"I thought you didn't have time to come over tonight!" Bucky says before spreading his arms for a hug, which Tony happily accepts. Bucky takes a moment to take in his scent, which is musky with a hint of spice, only making the butterflies in his stomach go wilder.

"Well, I figured I'd come over and give you some moral support. It's an important night for you, and I couldn't resist seeing what you've done to the place after the investigation closed a few days ago," he says, and Bucky's practically beaming at his words.

"I'm glad you showed up tonight, Tony. It really means a lot," Bucky says before taking him to meet his friends as well as Alpine. The rest of the night goes by quicker than Bucky could have thought, and Alpine loved every attention she got tonight. He also sold out of most of his bouquets, leaving him more than satisfied.

Once everything is cleaned up and Bucky closes the front door behind him, he's relieved that everything has gone well tonight, but Tony's showing up has been the best surprise of the evening.

Since the reopening of Bucky's Flower Emporium, it has been busier than before the faithful night that flipped Bucky's life on its axis. Where he was already doing great before, he's now doing better than he could have ever dreamt. From Sam being there almost daily to host gardening workshops to hiring another worker to keep up with the constant stream of people, Bucky adores every second of it. But what he loves most is Tony coming over when he has the time, and this time, Bucky's been pacing around with something important on his mind.

This morning, Tony texted Bucky to let him know he'd come over today, and ever since then, Bucky's been staring a hole through the front door, his heart pounding with anticipation, impatient to see his crush finally walking through the door. The minutes seemed to drag on forever as he fidgeted behind the counter of the flower shop, unable to focus on anything else but the thought of seeing Tony again, but just as Bucky rings up a customer who has picked out a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers, the little bell chimed merrily, and lays his eyes on Tony, who is walking through the door with a charming smile on his face. Bucky couldn't help but beam back as their eyes met.

Bucky breathed a sigh of relief as the customer’s transaction came to a close, and they cheerily walked out the door, allowing Bucky to welcome Tony and help him pick out a bouquet to bring to the precinct.

"Good morning, Sunflower," Tony says lovingly as he hugs Bucky, which the taller man reciprocates with a warm feeling in his chest, reveling in the feeling of their bodies pressed together. During the reopening, Tony noticed that Bucky had worn shades of marigold, moss, and maroon, mimicking the hues of a sunflower, which became his nickname. Each time Tony playfully refers to him, Bucky can feel his nerves flutter like a caged bird, and the smile on Tony's face reassures him that he's feeling the same thing.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," Bucky replies with a sly wink after pulling away from his embrace, and a bashful flush colored Tony’s cheeks, which he attempts to conceal by inconspicuously turning around and peeking at some of the bouquets that Bucky has meticulously arranged. During all this, Sam shoots occasional glances at them from the corner of his eye with a proud smile as he guides his small group to cut off the stems of the flowers they had chosen.

The next twenty minutes were spent looking at flowers. At the same time, Bucky eagerly talks about their meanings—how dandelions represented reliance, how tulips bloom love—and how he created the intricate yet beautiful-looking arrangements. Tony’s gaze roams over the petals that flaunt their various hues and tones, until he picks out a large bouquet of vivid sunflowers to add a little colour the front desk in the precinct later. While Bucky packs it up for Tony, his nerves start to set in. The clock is ticking, and with each passing second, the window of opportunity to share what's been incessantly plaguing his mind is getting smaller.

Bucky's inner voice urges him on, relentless and insistent. 'Come on, it's now or never,' it seems to say, a constant nagging in his mind. His heart pounds in his chest as he debates whether to take the leap or stay put. The weight of the decision hangs heavy on his shoulders.

Just before he hands Tony the finished bouquet, he blurts out his thoughts, "I-I want to go on a date…with you!" The exclamation swiftly leaves his lips like a hushed whisper, spoken with hesitation.

As soon as the words left his mouth, Bucky couldn't help but feel embarrassed at how he had formulated them. Tony can't help but stand there with raised brows at the boldness that has suddenly come over his friend. A deep red blush appeared on Bucky’s cheeks as his gaze became downcast in embarrassment squeezed his eyes shut, wishing that he could rewind time to take it all back. This wasn't how I planned it to go, oh god, I screwed it up. —he didn't even ask if Tony wanted to go on a date with him, but much to his astonishment and relief, Tony agreed.

"I would love to go on a date with you, Sunflower,’ Tony says with a reassuring smile, “But I'll have to text you about the details later. Unfortunately, I have to leave now, but I'm looking forward to it," Bucky nods as the flush on his cheeks slowly subsides. As Tony walks out the door, Sam can't help but snicker, earning himself a glare from Bucky before he retires to his office to work on some administrative tasks he's been pushing off so he wouldn't miss Tony coming into the store.

True to his word, Tony texts Bucky that same evening with some plans, which he happily agrees to. During the upcoming Saturday, Bucky plans on teaching Tony how to craft a simple bouquet before they head out to dinner and a bar afterward to finish the evening on a high note. Bucky has never said yes to something so quickly, and the anticipation builds as now all he can do is wait until it's finally Saturday, which seems to be an eternity away on the quiet Thursday night he's now enjoying, with Alpine curled up in his lap.

The past few days dragged on way too slowly for Bucky's liking, but it's finally Saturday morning, and Bucky's alarm goes off, notifying him it's time to get up and get ready for his date. He spent the better part of an hour in front of the mirror trying to get his ruffled hair to comply and contemplating his outfit, ultimately deciding on ripped jeans and a striped shirt.

However, before he takes a shower and gets dressed, he takes a moment to cuddle with Alpine as part of their usual morning routine. As he strokes her silvery fur, he shares the details of his day to her, and she's taking in all the affection before usually falling asleep in his arms again. "Are you excited about Steve coming over today, hm? Daddy won't be here to care for you tonight, so he'll be here with you later to cuddle and feed you," he says as he nuzzles into her soft fur, relishing in the slightly ticklish sensation against the skin of his face.

"Daddy's going on a date with Tony. Can you believe it? Because I surely can't either," Bucky continues as she purrs in his arms, his fingers scratching behind her ears, causing them to perk up. He tells her a bit more about everything he has planned, and eventually, she climbs out of his arms to lie on her pillow, allowing Bucky to get ready for said date.

After a quick shower, he slips into the clothes he laid out before fixing his hair, once again opting to leave his hair loose for a change but making sure to bring a hair tie along just in case, as it'll come in handy during the first part of their date: keeping unruly strands out his vision while making a flower arrangement. The rest of the morning seems to pass in a blur of anticipation and excitement, and just after lunch, it's almost time to go when he hears the familiar click of the front door lock turning.

"I'm here, Buck!" Steve yells, his voice echoing throughout his house, and Bucky pokes his head around the corner to greet his best friend while brushing his teeth, not wanting to risk a potential disaster by having bad breath. While Steve makes himself some lunch in Bucky's kitchen, Bucky finishes getting ready.

"Thank you again for taking care of Alp today; it means a lot," Bucky says as he walks into the kitchen. Steve smiles up at his best friend.

"No need to thank me, Buck. You know I will take care of her anytime," Steve reassures him, and he nods, knowing he's correct. There's nothing either wouldn't do for the other, even when they get a call at 3:15AM in the morning. After one last check in the mirror and finicking with his hair, Bucky grabs his keys and wallet before heading out the door and on his way to his date.

As soon as the Uber he ordered arrives, he can feel his nerves running wild. With every passing second, he's getting closer to going on a date with Tony he's been looking forward to for days. They have been texting one another whenever possible for the past few days. Last night, they FaceTimed for about an hour and couldn't stop announcing their excitement for their date.

Much to his surprise, Tony was already waiting in front of Bucky's Flower Emporium. This time—clad in a light outfit that complemented his skin beautifully. His usually messy curls are now styled neatly into a perfect quiff, and his facial hair is trimmed to accentuate his jawline, making him look even more handsome than he already is.

"Hey, Sunflower," Tony whispers as Bucky pulls him into a tight embrace, their bodies fitting together perfectly. Bucky takes in Tony's scent as he nuzzles his face into his shoulder, not wanting to let go. Tony smells of bergamot with a hint of citrus, and Bucky takes a mental note of the scent. Eventually, he has to detach from the embrace, and he quickly retrieves his keys from his pocket so they can head inside.

"The store looks so... different when there's no one inside," Tony remarks, and Bucky nods in response. Suddenly, Bucky's unsure what to say when they're inside, feeling a surge of uncertainty as he can’t help but fidget and wring his fingers nervously as he looks away, suddenly feeling very out of place in the once-familiar environment.

"Hey, it's okay to be nervous; I am too," Tony’s voice was gentle, reassuring. His hand rests on Bucky’s bicep in a comforting gesture, and Bucky can feel the warmth of his touch seeping through his shirt and onto his skin. His gaze meets Tony’s, taking in the lighter specks in his otherwise dark, chocolate-brown eyes.

Bucky shifts nervously, his eyes darting back and forth as he speaks. "You're right, I-I'm sorry. It's just that I haven't been on a proper date in years," Bucky admits, his voice tinged with shyness, and Tony smiles at his answer before nodding.

"That makes two of us. I don't even remember the last time I've been on a date, to be honest, but something about you has changed my mind. I feel so comfortable around you, and I can truly be myself, which I always look for in someone," Tony reaches out to Bucky's hand, and much to his surprise, it's his Vibranium one he's reaching for. Though he doesn't physically feel Tony's touch, he can still feel a soft sensation of pressure while looking at their intertwined hands.

"Thank you for allowing me to be myself, Sunflower. We may not be perfect, but I think that as long as we have one another, we're pretty damn lucky in this world," Tony tells Bucky before squeezing his hand reassuringly and then making their way to the workshop area.

"So, onto flower arrangements..." Tony says with a playful twinkle in his eye as he gestures to the workbench, where an array of colorful petals and green stems lay waiting. Bucky can't help but giggle at the other man's words, a broad smile gracing his features as a hearty laugh escapes his chest. And just like that, they spend the next few hours making flower arrangements together, working side by side, carefully selecting each bloom and arranging them into beautiful bouquets and centerpieces.

With skilled hands, Bucky carefully selected a variety of vibrant, multicolored flowers, and made a beautiful multicolor bouquet that perfectly reflected the sunny weather outside. Meanwhile,Tony opted for a simpler arrangement with dandelion yellow and crisp white blooms. Bucky took the time to explain each step and guide Tony where necessary. They shared jokes and laughter, making the process all the more enjoyable. The fragrant scent of fresh flowers filled the room, adding to the cheerful atmosphere.

Now, they’re standing back as they’re admiring each other’s handiwork, their bodies so close that they’re practically touching. When Bucky’s eye suddenly catches sight of a perfect white rose, lying astray on the bench, he plucks it up before removing most of the stem and turning to Tony, who watches his every move with rapt attention.

With a soft smile, Bucky leans in to gently tuck the flower behind Tony’s ear, the cold metal of his finger tracing a strand of his brunette hair. As he does, Tony lets his eyes slip shut while reveling in the sensation of Bucky’s fingers gliding across his skin. He’s considerably closer to Bucky when he opens them, and both heart rates rapidly pick up as they take in the closeness.

“May I kiss you?” Bucky asks softly.

“What if someone sees?” Tony asks, slightly apprehensively.

“Then they can enjoy a nice view of us kissing, if you ask me,” Bucky responds mischievously, and with those words, Bucky closes the gap between them. Their lips and tongues move together in a passionate dance, and their hands roam freely, tracing along each other’s bodies simultaneously. They take their time exploring one another, but eventually, the need for air becomes greater than the need for each other, and Bucky is the first one to pull away.

“Wow,” he whispers in awe, his gaze fixed on Tony's face as a large smile tugs at the corners of his flushed lips, and Tony nods in agreement with his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Both their faces are flushed as they take a step back, though they don’t want to be too far away from one another. With quick efficiency, the clean-up is done, and when Bucky turns to Tony to tell him something, he’s surprised by the other man’s lips on his again, which he graciously accepts.

Once they finally manage to pry themselves away from the other person, their hearts racing as they head out to dinner. The evening rushes by in a blur of easy conversation and shared laughter, their hands constantly brushing against each other as if drawn together by an invisible force. The conversations flow naturally between them, and they haven't had this much fun in a long time as they stroll their way to a nearby bar.

The dimly lit bar was bustling with people, their chatter blending together in a dull hum. Tony and Bucky stood side by side at the sleek bar counter, surrounded by shelves of glistening alcohol bottles. The bartender waited patiently for their order, a faint smile on his weathered face.

"What's your drink of choice, Sunflower?" Tony asks as he's standing beside Bucky at the bar, looking up at him while Bucky thinks about what he wants. He settles for a whiskey while Tony goes for an extra dry dirty Martini with extra olives, which makes Bucky chuckle.

"I didn't know you had such an elaborate drink order, Lieutenant," Bucky's playful tone caused a faint blush to rise on Tony's cheeks. He stammers out something about the drink being his favorite, hoping to hide his embarrassment. After a little more teasing banter, both their drinks are ready, and Bucky and Tony find a small empty spot at the bar and settle onto the stools with a sense of relief.

"May I ask what happened to your arm?" Tony asks when they're both settled into their seats, and Bucky briefly hesitates, feeling a familiar knot form in his stomach. He has been expecting this conversation for a while now, knowing it was bound to happen, but he's always a little apprehensive to talk about it, not wanting to shy away from the truth and risk pushing Tony away with his past.

"Uh- y-yeah, of course" Bucky finally managed to say. He shifted his stance, facing Tony fully and trying to relax his tense shoulders.

"Before I became a florist, I had been serving in the military for a little over 15 years as a trauma surgeon. One unfortunate day, our peaceful camp was rocked by a sudden explosion, a bomb was detonated next to our tent, and the shrapnel blew up pretty much all of our tent and the people inside along with it. I was on the far end of the tent when it happened, I wasn't spared from the devastation; shards of sharp shrapnel sliced through my arm, causing such severe damage that it had to be amputated at the shoulder," Bucky somberly recounts to Tony, who listens with rapt attention and empathy for his friend's harrowing experience.

"About a year before I opened the shop, I got the chance to participate in a program that helps veterans who lost their limbs in the line of duty, and I have been lucky enough to have gotten a completely new arm. It's made of Vibranium, and even though I can't physically feel anything with it, it has ultimately pushed me to follow my dream: to use my arm as an outlet to create something beautiful, so I could learn to see the beauty of my arm, too. It’s taught me to see the beauty in my own unique circumstances and embrace them wholeheartedly."

"Over the years, I have learned to work and create along with it. Instead of fighting it, I’ve embraced it and now I'm not ashamed to show it off anymore. It used to be a big part of my insecurity and low self-esteem, but nowadays, it's just as much a part of me as my other limbs, but the biggest difference is that this one's a different material," Bucky says with a small smile, and Tony nods.

"I'm so glad you've learned to love yourself and the arm because you deserve to be loved. By others, sure, but most of all, you deserve to be loved by yourself," Tony says tenderly as he cradles the metal hand between his own, tracing soothing circles over the cold surface of the metal. Without saying another word, Bucky leans in to capture Tony's lips with his own again as he pours every single emotion he's feeling into it. Tony's breath hitches at the sensation of Bucky's lips on his own once again, but that quickly dissipates as he surrenders to the kiss, savoring every precious moment of it.

"Thank you for saying that, Tony," Bucky whispers as he pulls back, his breath warm against the other man's ear as he whispers his gratitude, looking into the other man's deep, dark brown eyes with an appreciative and adoring look before grabbing his drink and taking a sip, feeling the pleasurable way the liquid burns as it goes down. Tony finishes all of his Martini in one go before he gets up and leans in to whisper something in Bucky's ear that piques his interest.

"Do you want to go back to my place or yours?" he asks, his voice low and inviting, and after a short moment of contemplation, Bucky tells him that it's better to go to Tony's place. After all, Steve is currently at Bucky's apartment to take care of Alpine. Not even ten minutes later, they're in an Uber snuggled together in the backseat, impatiently waiting until they arrive at Tony's apartment, exchanging playful touches and glances while their fingers intertwine.

As soon as the front door clicks shut, Tony’s hands are on Bucky, pressing him back against the sturdy wall before his lips are on Bucky's again. Tony's tongue pushes into Bucky's mouth immediately while Tony's hands open every last button on Bucky's striped shirt. Once the fabric is loose, Tony's hands move up and into Bucky's hair, which he softly tugs before pulling away, allowing himself to take in the look on the larger man's face.

"Let's move this to the bedroom, Sunflower," Tony whispers in a breathy voice as he grabs Bucky's hand and pulls him towards the large bedroom. As he does, Bucky takes in as much of the apartment as possible, but it doesn't last long, as he's quickly pushed onto the bed.

"I think it's about time we get you out of these clothes, don't you think?" Tony asks rhetorically, and before Bucky can even catch up with what's happening, he's stripped almost entirely bare. The only thing that's left is his underwear, which shows the fact that he's getting painfully hard at everything that's happening.

"Fuck," Tony groans as he takes in the sight of the man in front of him. The way his cream-colored skin is such a stark difference against his black and gold arm doesn't go unnoticed by Tony, and he leans over to press a few soft kisses on the scarring surrounding the fake limb.

"So beautiful," Tony whispers as he trails a line of kisses from the shoulder down his body, Tony's hands slowly inching their way up Bucky's thighs to where he needs Tony most of all. Tony maps out Bucky's entire body with his hands and lips, committing every inch of it to memory.

"What should I call you?" Bucky suddenly asks, and for a short moment, Tony's caught off-guard by the question. He didn't give it any thought beforehand, and his mind is coming up completely blank, too.

"What do you think you should call me?" Tony then answers, and Bucky takes a moment to take in his words, letting the words sink in as he's starting to sink into a floaty headspace.

"Officer." A short and simple answer, but one that goes straight to Tony's rapidly hardening cock as it throbs inside his pants. Tony lets out a deep groan at the name, and he practically rips Bucky's underwear off his body, unable to wait any longer to have a taste of him.

"Are you okay with this, Sunflower? Because if you're not, we can stop. We can stop whenever you want, okay?" Tony asks before moving any further, his gaze locked on the man beneath him, and Bucky nods slowly. He hasn't been with anyone in literal years, but his submissive side always bubbles up with minimal effort as he becomes nice and pliant for Tony.

"Good boy," Tony praises Bucky as he grabs the larger man's cock, his hand barely able to wrap around the girth. He works him over slowly as he keeps looking and listening to Bucky to find exactly what he likes. Bucky is like an open book at this point, as moans and groans constantly tumble from his lips.

The moment Tony takes his tip into his mouth, Bucky's hips instantly buck up into Tony's mouth, the pleasure almost being too much for Bucky to be able to handle. As Tony takes more and more of him into his mouth, Bucky can't help but moan louder until it's bordering on pornographic.

"F-fuck, Officer-" Bucky pleads, and Tony pulls off with a loud pop while his hand keeps going. "'M close," Bucky mutters, but he doesn't get his way yet.

"Not yet, Sunflower. I know you're close, but you need to hold out for a little longer, as I haven't done a thorough investigation of your body yet," Tony says seductively, and it hits exactly the way he had hoped. He had a suspicion Bucky had both a kink for Tony's profession and a uniform kink, and his suspicions had been confirmed.

Without warning, he immediately takes Bucky into his mouth again, this time until his nose is touching his pelvis, and he's practically gagging around the larger man's cock. He sounds filthy, but both of them are loving every second of it as Bucky's fists are holding the sheets tightly in order not to cum yet, while his hips buck up, driving his cock even deeper into Tony's throat.

"C-Close!" Bucky exclaims as Tony lets Bucky's balls roll in his hand, squeezing softly before tugging on them. He swallows Bucky down again, this time more easily than before.

"Off—O-Officer," Bucky says with a strained voice as his eyes are locked onto the smaller men between his legs. The sight is one he will never forget. "P-Please, let me c-cum!"

Instead of answering, Tony works Bucky's cock with his hands and mouth until the other man cums with trembling legs and loud, drawn-out moans. It's one of the most intense orgasms Bucky has ever felt, and his brain has gone completely blank at this point, now deep into subspace.

"Good boy, you did so well for me, you follow your Officer's orders so well," Tony praises him as he lets the other man retain his breath, but only briefly. Tony quickly climbs off the bed to strip himself of every last bit of clothing he's wearing, and he reaches over to his nightstand to get a few items: a bottle of lube, a condom, and the Vibranium handcuffs he bought in preparation for exactly this moment.

Once Bucky has come down from his high, Tony climbs over his large body to capture Bucky's lips in a soft kiss, to which Bucky responds instantly as his hands are on Tony within seconds. They take their time exploring each other's mouths, and Bucky moans at the taste of himself on Tony's tongue.

"I need you to sit on your hands and knees for me, Sunflower; been dreaming of what it's like to fuck you completely senseless, so that's exactly what I'll be doing now," he whispers in Bucky's ear, who smiles before moving to sit on his hands and knees. Once Bucky is in position, Tony catches him off-guard by pulling his hands behind his back, which causes his face to be pushed into the sheets, which quickly grow wet from the drool escaping Bucky's slack mouth.

"You're under arrest for being a bad boy," Tony says as he cuffs both of Bucky's hands behind his back, ensuring there's no way he can get out of them without help. Once satisfied, Tony sits back to admire his work with a smile. Seeing Bucky on his knees with his hands behind his back and his face practically pressed into the sheets gives Tony a huge rush of endorphins.

Now, Tony takes his time to work Bucky open with his fingers and mouth, paired with countless moans and whines as he does. Once Bucky is adequately prepped for Tony's huge cock, Tony rips open the condom before rolling it on and covering it with even more lube, ensuring it'll be nice and slick as he fucks Bucky into oblivion in a moment.

"Ready, my beautiful Sunflower?" Tony asks in a loving voice, and Bucky mumbles a soft yes as Tony lines up, eager to work himself into Bucky's willing ass. He takes hold of Bucky's hips as he pushes in, and he's met with the slightest bit of resistance as he does, but Bucky's body accepts him not long after.

"That's it, Sunflower, fuck- you take your Officer's cock so well," Tony groans through gritted teeth, as he's trying his hardest not to cum before he's even thrust into Bucky's welcoming body. The heat of Bucky around his cock is nearly driving him insane as he's holding onto every last bit of his sanity.

"God, you feel so good. You're going to let your Officer fuck some sense into you, huh? Gonna let your Officer fuck you so hard you have no other choice than to be his good boy?" Tony taunts Bucky, and Bucky can't do anything but moan incoherently, much to Tony's pleasure. He's exactly where Tony wants him - blissed out and fucked thoroughly.

With a groan, Tony bottoms out, and one of Tony's hands lets go of Bucky's hip in favor of grabbing the handcuffs, which he pulls on with every thrust, effectively pulling the large man back onto his cock with every deep thrust. It's been a while since Tony has felt this type of pleasure, and he can't get enough of it as he speeds up his thrusts.

"Fucking fuck! You feel so fucking good on my cock, Sunflower, should've fucked you much sooner," Tony says as his orgasm is rapidly approaching. Without warning, Bucky lets out a long, dragged-out moan as he cums again, his seed spurting all over the sheets without even being completely hard yet. It's precisely what pushes Tony over the edge, too.

"Fuck yes, take your Officer's cum! Gonna fill you up until you're leaking with my cum, and then I'm going to fuck it all back in again to make sure you will keep it all in this perfect, tight ass of yours," Tony pants, and he lands a loud smack on Bucky's as he fucks Bucky through their orgasms. When the sensitivity becomes too much, he pulls about before collapsing next to Bucky, who's now facing him after lying down on his side, too.

"You did so well for me, Sunflower. You've been such a good boy for me," Tony whispers as he tucks some loose hair behind Bucky's ear and leans in to place a peck on his nose and lips. Bucky smiles into the soft touches as his eyes slip shut, and he lets Tony take care of him, trusting him to do exactly what needs to be done to prevent a subdrop.

"I'm going to get a washcloth to clean you up and some chocolate and fruits for you to nibble on, okay? I'll be close by the entire time," Tony tells Bucky. Bucky whines softly at the thought of being left alone, but he eventually accepts it. Tony then takes his time to remove the handcuffs, massaging his Bucky's flesh wrist from the strain before grabbing the washcloth, food, and two bottles of water.

"Here I am, Sunflower. I'm right here with you, and I'm not leaving again, I promise," Tony whispers as Bucky clings to him once he's all cleaned up. Tony's seated with his back against the large headboard, and Bucky's seated sideways in his lap as he feeds Bucky the chocolate and fruit and takes bites for himself.

"How're you feeling?" Tony asks after Bucky finishes the last of his water bottle and chocolate, and he's visibly tired.

"Good. Sleepy," he says with droopy eyelids, which makes Tony chuckle. They get comfortable under the comforter, and Bucky immediately pulls Tony against his chest before falling asleep. That night, they have some of the best sleep they've had in a long time, as they're now lying in the arms of someone they have massive feelings for.

The next morning, Tony gets up before Bucky to prepare breakfast, and just when he's about done, Bucky walks into the kitchen wearing the sweatpants and hoodie Tony laid out for him to wear. His hair is messy, and he still looks sleepy, but Tony still thinks he looks beautiful.

"Mornin', Sunflower," Tony says as he watches Bucky sit on one of the stools at the kitchen island. He finishes preparing the food before walking over to the other man, giving Bucky a peck on his lips, and putting a plate with toast, eggs, and bacon in front of him together with a large, steaming cup of black coffee.

"Morning," Bucky says sleepily, and a smile lights up his features as he kisses Tony back. Then, he dives into his food, and Tony takes his place next to him at the kitchen island before eating his breakfast, too.

"So… This is maybe an odd question, but… what are we, exactly?" Bucky asks when they're both finished with breakfast and enjoying some light conversation over a fresh cup of coffee. There's uncertainty laced in Bucky's voice as he brings up the topic on his mind since they went to Tony's apartment last night.

"What do you want us to be?" Tony asks, even though he knows what he wants them to be. However, he doesn't want to push him away, so he's willing to take it at whatever pace Bucky's comfortable with. Bucky smiles at the question before answering - the one Tony secretly hoped for.

"Boyfriends," he answers honestly, and Tony nods in agreement as a large smile adorns his features.

"I want that too, Sunflower; there's nothing that would make me happier than to be your boyfriend," Tony whispers before leaning in and capturing Bucky's lips in a soft, loving kiss that has his heart racing.

Boyfriends. It's a term both of them happily get used to, and they're secretly happy that those idiots broke into Bucky's flower shop because, without them, they wouldn't have found their happily ever after in one another.

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