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kingkaisen · 1 year ago

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“WHERE IS MY WIFE?”

♡ �� 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: curses & curse users have discovered satoru’s greatest weakness, and it’s you, satoru’s sweet, ordinary housewife. after getting kidnapped by gojo’s enemies, he’ll do whatever it takes to get you back.

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ only - mdni - slightly dark content // brief smut, fem reader, feral gojo, canon-typical violence, reader gets kidnapped, reader is wounded/has injuries, angst, fluff/comfort

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 5K

♡ —𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: I’d count grains of sand if it meant I could spend one minute alone with feral gojo (:

As evening fell, and after a delicious dinner was eaten at the dining table downstairs, Satoru was in the mood for something else now — you.

His pretty housewife would be his dessert.

The apple pie you baked was sitting on the dark marbled counter of the kitchen island, two big slices missing — and the vanilla ice cream tub in the freezer had, of course, two hefty spherical digs in it where the cold treat was scooped out — but, even after his stomach was stuffed after a hard day of fighting curses and teaching his students, Satoru’s head was buried in between your soft thighs, satisfying his other craving.

As your husband moaned softly, his tongue danced around your aching clit. His large hand massaged your thigh. The moonlight pouring in through the big bedroom window shined upon his wedding ring, making it glisten as he rubbed your delicate skin.

“I’ll never get tired of tasting you,” Satoru smiled a bit, his warm breath patting against your wet folds.

“You were made just for me. God, I love it. I love you.”

Two long fingers sunk into your awaiting hole. He attached his soft lips to your clit, sucking on it.

One of your hands gripped at the luxurious pale-cerulean sheets, while your other hand gripped his hair, fingers getting lost in his white locks.

“Satoru!” A sharp moan escaped your dried throat.

Every little noise you made — every moan, every squeak of the thick mattress — it all boasted his desire to please you.

He didn’t stop his licking-sucking-fingering combo until your legs were trembling around his head and he was satisfied with tasting your juices.

Only after devouring your pussy like a starving man feasting on a buffet-style dinner did he rise from his position and make his way across the bed, hovering over you.

With a smile, Satoru leaned down and planted a soft kiss against your lips. But, when he pulled away, he was met with an amused look of disgust.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, furrowing his brows a bit.

“You just kissed me after eating me out,” you said with a little, playful grimace. “That’s nasty.”

“Mrs. Gojo, I mean this in the most respectful way possible, but hush.” Satoru lightly tapped your forehead. “You have swallowed plenty of my-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” shaking your head, you cut off your husband’s naughty sentence, pressing your hand against his lips.

The corners of your mouth burned as you tried to fight off a smile. His latest affectionate nickname was Mrs. Gojo — although it truly wasn’t a nickname due to it technically being your name now — and at every given opportunity, he addressed you that way.

Even after two years of marriage, he was as excited as a freshly wedded man. Your love was a never-ending honeymoon.

You stared into Satoru’s striking blue eyes. He darted his gaze across your gorgeous face, illuminated by the moonlight, and as you ran your fingers through his white hair and he ran his thumb across your cheek, both of you close enough to feel the gentle pats of each other’s breaths on your mesmerizing faces, you both fell in love with each other just a bit more — if that was even possible.

“Can I fuck you now?”

Satoru’s question made a sudden chuckle spilled out from between your lips. He couldn’t help but laugh too.

“You’re a buffoon. I’m trying to admire your beauty and that’s what you open your mouth to say?” You playfully frowned.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard a human being call another human being a buffoon out loud before.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes humorously. “We need to do our skincare routine first. We have to do it an hour before we go to bed or else we might just rub all the product off. I read that somewhere.”

“Why didn’t we do it before we got into bed in the first place?” Satoru buried his head in the crook of your neck, pouting, but taking a moment to press a little kiss onto your skin.

“Because you were acting as if you were dying of poison and eating me out was the antidote, so I forgot.” you giggled softly.

“Fine, fine,” your husband slowly rolled off of you in defeat. “Skincare routine, nothing more. Please don’t start trying to organize the bath towels.”

“I’m not making any promises,” you said, getting out of bed and following Satoru into the master bathroom.

There, you and your husband stood in front of the big mirror, cleansing and moisturizing your skin as you both chatted about his students, a movie you watched three days ago, and your breakfast plans in the morning.

And it was those sweet little moments that made Satoru’s heart skip a beat. As he flickered his eyes over to your reflection, watching your smother smooth white cream all over your face as you rambled on about a new egg recipe, he couldn’t help but think about how much he loved you.

—

6:00 A.M.

That night ended with soft sex and gentle kisses.

That morning, Satoru’s white eyelashes fluttered open to the early morning sun starting to rise, casting rays through the drawn window curtains and across his comforter.

He squinted his eyes and yawned.

Typically, he was the sort of man who would never wake up at the ungodly hour if he could help it, but the tantalizing aroma of fresh coffee and sizzling eggs had traveled from the kitchen downstairs to right underneath his nose.

Tossing on his blue house-coat, the grumpy-faced man dragged himself into the kitchen, greeting you with a slightly gruff morning voice and a messy head of hair.

“Good morning, baby,” Satoru walked around the kitchen island and loosely wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind. “How’d you sleep? I had a nightmare.”

With a spatula in one hand, you flipped the omelet in the skillet on the six-burner stove. With the other hand, you rubbed his arm, enjoying the warmth his hovering hug had brought.

“I slept alright,” you said. “Did the smell wake you up?”

“Always does,” he smiled lazily although you couldn’t see it.

“Well, your drink’s ready,” you gave a nod in the general direction of the silver espresso machine, which hummed as it brewed Satoru’s steamy beverage.

“I don’t deserve you,” Satoru’s arms hugged you tighter, and he showered the side of your head with kisses.

“Stop it,” your sweet laughter only egged him on as you clenched the spatula and leaned back against him even more. “No fooling around when we’re this close to the stove.”

Satoru eventually backed away after giving you one final kiss against your forehead temple.

“If all goes well, I should be back home tomorrow before dark, then we can check out that new restaurant. What do you say? I personally think it’s time for a date.”

The image of you and Satoru sipping on wine and as you wore your favorite dress flashed in your mind, and you smiled. A date night was certainly something to look forward to in light of Satoru’s overnight trip.

Sorcering duties had often taken him on distant work trips. Truth be told, you were lucky his departure would only last around twenty-four hours and not twenty-four days. Although you missed him whenever he would leave, you understood his choice of career. He was a hero.

You happened to be an ordinary human being. You couldn’t see curses. You couldn’t use cursed energy or cursed techniques, but you were fine with that.

“A date sounds fun! I’m excited now.” You took the omelet out of the skillet and placed it on a nearby plate. “And we’re making time to try out that new pottery class too. It sounds like such a cute date idea, don’t you think so?”

“I’m with you. I’ll make the reservations for the restaurant, you can schedule us for pottery-making.” This time, he was the one blissfully picturing you and him spinning messy clay with him sitting behind you and reaching around your body for the pottery wheel, your fingers intertwined as you both created a pot. Satoru smiled at the thought. “Anyway, now that you’re done cooking, can I kiss you?”

You nodded with a cheeky grin, and your husband pressed his lips against yours sweetly.

It was as if some part of him was frightened that he would never get the opportunity to kiss you again.

��

8:37 P.M.

The bright light far above your head flickered briefly as you stood in the pasta aisle at your local grocery store, but you hadn’t noticed it, too fixated on the different brands of spaghetti noodles lying on the shelf above you.

Shopping at night wasn’t preferable, but only after tossing together a simmering pan of sauce did you realize you hadn’t started boiling your noodles yet.

And, with your pot of simmering water ready, you opened the cabinet to see no noodles.

So, here you were, making a last-minute, unplanned trip to the grocery store.

By now, the only sort of pasta noodles left were the ones that a person of average height couldn’t reach. Every box was too high.

You turned your head to the left and to the right.

You even bothered to walk down a few aisles to search for an employee or anyone who might have been tall enough to reach your needed item, but the only other person staggering around was an older blonde-haired woman who was shorter than you were.

Frowning in frustration, you returned to the pasta aisle.

If you had to climb the shelves, so be it.

Suddenly, a kind voice spoke over the calming public-friendly background music playing softly in the store.

“Need some help?”

Whipping your head around, you saw a person — a taller person, thank goodness — who had a smile that was just as sweet as his voice.

“Yes, thank you!” You found that his grin was rather contagious, as you ended up smiling as well. “I just need the spaghetti noodles on the top shelf. Any brand will do.”

The beaming man with long, dark hair stepped forward, and you moved to the side, letting the apparent hero save your day.

He pulled down your desired spaghetti noodles with ease.

“Thanks for your help. My spaghetti sauce won’t go to waste now,” you said politely.

Your eyes darted up to the stitched scar across his forehead, then quickly, you glanced away.

“You’re welcome. Have a good night.”

The man walked down the aisle and left.

There was something familiar about him, oddly enough.

That hair . . . that smile . . .

He reminded you of an old, deceased friend of Satoru’s, one that you hadn’t ever met due to his villainous behavior before his death, but you had seen an old picture of him that he and your husband took during their second year at Jujutsu High, years ago.

As you placed the pasta noodles into your cart, making your way around different aisles to collect a few more items since you were already at the store, you decided that you’d take another look at that photograph once you arrived home, just for peace of mind.

The brown paper bag stuffed with groceries felt rather heavy as you walked down the street, which was brightened by light pouring out of the windows of local businesses that hadn’t yet closed.

You sighed softly.

The dark sky was sparkling with stars. The air was cool and comforting. Soon, you’d have pasta, and perhaps, you’d watch a few episodes of your favorite binge-worthy Netflix show.

If only Satoru was with you.

Chatting with him on the phone a few hours ago only made you miss him even more, but, at least his trip would be a quick one, and soon, you could have dinner with him and listen to his hilarious commentary as you watched television together.

After walking for around five minutes, you were no longer close to the local businesses that made you feel a sense of comfort during your evening stroll.

Now, you had to rely on the occasional streetlight to guide you home.

But that cold air was no longer comforting. It was a chilling breeze that made you clench your grocery bag a bit tighter.

Your footsteps suddenly halted — you could hear something moving in the nearby bushes.

Turning around, you were greeted with nothing but darkness and streetlights. No one else was with you. You kept walking.

However, something wasn’t right.

You might not have been a sorcerer, but you weren’t a fool.

And you had a gut-wrenching feeling that right now, as your wobbly legs guided you home, you were being watched.

You heard that noise again.

The grocery bag crinkled against your chest. You were certain that the bread you purchased was squished by now. If someone was following you, did you really want to unintentionally lead them to your home?

Where should you go? What should you do?

A tear rolled down your cheek from fear.

You were scared. You only wanted to go home, finish your pasta, and watch television.

You didn’t want to deal with such a potentially terrifying situation.

Pulling out your phone, you opened your dial screen.

Your trembling thumb hovered over the buttons, but before you could press anything, a black, disfigured curse appeared in front of you, screeching loudly enough to make you drop everything in your hands and cover your ears, more tears falling as the horrifying monster started to charge at you.

You tried to run in the other direction, but it was too late.

The last thing you saw before you were engulfed by darkness was that man from the grocery store standing on the sidewalk, that same sweet smile on his familiar face.

—

12:27 A.M.

Satoru’s eyes snapped open. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, as he had spent most of the night tossing and turning because you weren’t lying next to him. But, apparently, he did manage to catch a couple of hours of shut-eye.

When he awakened, there was a terrible ache in his heart. Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach, and beads of sweat decorated his forehead. His throat was dried to a crisp.

He was all alone in his dark hotel room.

He couldn’t hear you.

He couldn’t see you.

And yet, somehow, someway, thanks to his great power, he knew that his wife was calling for him.

—

The overwhelming scent of old, wet, musky wood and dust would never be forgotten by your memory. A lifetime of therapy would never be able to erase the paralyzing fear you felt, sitting on the cold, hard ground of an abandoned cabin with your hands bound behind your back.

Maybe the fear wasn’t completely paralyzing, though. Your body seemed to tremble with terror just fine.

The sight of it made Suguru Geto — no, Kenjaku chuckle.

He kept his eye on you for no other reason besides his entertainment, as watching you himself was pointless considering he had two frightening curses looming over you.

Once, Satoru shared a fun fact with you: regular human beings cannot see curses unless they are about to die.

That fact was certainly interesting when the two of you were strolling through the beautiful park, a red and white striped blanket in your hand and a picnic basket in his. But, now, that fact only made sweat drip off of your scarred forehead, because you could see the two, black, disfigured curses.

It was a telltale sign that you could die.

“I haven’t had the displeasure of meeting him myself,” Kenjaku suddenly spoke, relaxing in a chair he had positioned a few feet away from the corner you were trapped in. “But I have seen memories of Satoru Gojo that belonged to this body I’ve inhabited. And, I must say, I couldn’t imagine that his wife would be such a weakling. It’s truly pathetic.”

Even if you wanted to reply to him, fear had snatched away your ability to speak. It created a lump in your throat that couldn’t be swallowed down.

“My best guess is that he needs someone boring and ordinary in his life to keep house while he’s busy saving the world. You’re just the cook and maid with a ring on her finger, hm?”

“He loves me.”

Your voice was small — it was a painfully perfect reflection of how you felt on the inside. Weak and pathetic.

“Oh?” Kenjaku raised his eyebrows, smiling slightly. “Believe it or not, I hope you’re right, or else kidnapping you was a waste of time.”

Your chains rattled as you shifted in your spot on the floor, scooting as far into the corner as you could get. An ache shot up your spine from the wall pressing into your back. Pulling your knees to your chest, more tears slipped from your eyes.

“Aw, don’t cry,” he falsely cooed. “Surely you’ve wondered why the world’s strongest sorcerer would settle for someone who forgets to double-check all of their ingredients before they start cooking, haven’t you? It’s not because of love, or anything of the sort. It’s because those who are deeply insecure would do anything to please anyone who looks their way. Only an ordinary, desperate housewife with low self-esteem and no ambition would waste time caring for a man who risks his life saving strangers. What would make you think he cares for you when he spends more time with curses than his own wife? Helping strangers more than his own family? Think about it.”

Kenjaku’s hurtful words were met with silence, but he didn’t stop speaking.

“I bet you’re nothing but a burden to him. Someone like him probably hates being tied down, but marrying a fool who contributes nothing to society is the only way he can get someone else to handle his laundry while he’s busy working hard, hm? He must carry around divorce papers, ready to serve them to you the day you forget to buy detergent from the grocery store.” Kenjaku’s smile brightened. “Oh, that reminds me. You dropped your detergent and other groceries on the road earlier, by the way. Looks like you’re useless now.”

“You . . .” your teary eyes flickered from him to the hovering curses. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. None of that’s true.”

“You have to believe that I’m speaking honestly, Y/N.” Kenjaku sighed with fake sincerity. “My entire plan rests on the hope that Satoru Gojo is foolish enough to try to rescue you. You see, when you want to lure someone out, the proper way to do it is by discovering their weaknesses. When I found out about you, I was hoping that you would be his weakness. That I could use you to lure him out. Then I met you, and, well, you’re simply disappointing. Sorry to break it to you, but I have memories of the old conversations Satoru used to have with Suguru, and being tied down to a powerless housewife was certainly not how he imagined his future. But, I figured I’d try anyway, and so here you are, and he’s not here to rescue you. What a shame. I bet he’s hoping I’ll kill you so he’ll be free.”

He was lying. He had to be. Satoru loved you more than anything . . . right?

The thought had crossed your mind before; why did Satoru want to be with someone powerless? And this villain’s plan to lure out your husband relied on his hope that he’d come to rescue you out of love, so how would it benefit him to convince you Satoru didn’t love you?

Maybe he was right.

After all, if Satoru cared for you, he would have saved you by now. Where was he?

You couldn’t help but cry even harder.

“Please let me go home,” your tears clouded your vision. “Please let me go.”

“Well, you should know that I hate wasting time,” Kenjaku rested his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow pressing into the arm of the chair he sat in. “I can’t let you leave. I won’t let the effort I put into kidnapping you be a total waste.”

Kenjaku’s smile widened, and suddenly, the curses started to move towards you.

—

1:45 A.M.

The subway station was isolated. No ordinary human beings were lurking around, and Satoru was relieved. Right now, he’d kill anyone who looked at him the wrong way.

His shoes gently shuffled against the ground as he made his way into the middle of the big, bright opening, and he clenched his fists, his nails digging into the skin of his palm, hard enough to draw blood.

Two special grade cursed spirits emerged. He recognized them both from a previous fight in the woods.

Volcano head. Asparagus.

“Satoru Gojo,” Jogo suddenly said. “We didn’t think you’d be foolish enough to-”

“Where is my wife?”

When Satoru interrupted the curse, his voice was low. Dark. Startling.

Blood dripped from his palms and splattered onto the ground.

“I was drawn here, but she isn’t here, is she? Where is she? Tell me now, and I’ll kill you quickly instead of slowly.”

Jogo chuckled a bit. Satoru dug his nails into his palm even more.

“Bring us the vessel, Yuji Itadori, and we’ll return that worthless-”

The two curses didn’t have time to blink — weren’t able to register in their minds that Satoru had moved from his previous spot until Jogo was lifted off of the ground and thrown into the flickering light fixture above, shattering it and causing sparks to rain down onto the ground below, where he then fell.

Satoru stepped on Jogo’s head, squishing it underneath his black shoe.

“I remember you. You’re stubborn, right?” Satoru gritted his teeth. “Who the hell do you think you are to take her from me? Whoever you work for must want you dead if they’re stupid enough to send you on a suicide mission. You think I’ll let you leave here alive after this?”

“If you kill us, you’ll never see her again,” the other cursed spirit, Hanami, suddenly spoke up. “Bring us the vessel, and she lives.”

When Satoru suddenly stopped moving, it was only to ensure that he had heard the cursed spirit correctly.

“Did you just threaten . . .” Satoru removed his blindfold, “to kill my wife?”

It was only a matter of time before the branches attached to Hanami’s head were ripped out, and Jogo was beheaded. The subway was reduced to nothing except crumbling walls and darkness. While the cursed spirits were teetering dangerously between life and death, there wasn’t a scratch on Satoru. Instead, there was a smile.

This was simply the consequence of their actions. This was what happened to anyone who laid a hand on his girl.

Hanami’s body was on the brink of collapse as it was forced to come in contact with Satoru’s cursed technique — a blue shield-like piece of infinity that distorted and manipulated both time and space, protecting the sorcerer from attacks and rendering Hanami powerless.

Hanami’s eyes darted over to their beheaded ally — they couldn’t help him.

“I’m going to ask you one last time,” Satoru’s eyes widened. His smile grew. He slowly turned, facing Hanami, and blasted him back against the nearest wall without lifting a finger. “Where is my wife?”

—

2:39 A.M.

Kenjaku had never understood the concept of love, and, perhaps, that was why he failed.

Satoru’s love for you was his weakness, that was true, but it also turned out to be his greatest strength, and this was a fight Kenjaku couldn’t win.

Not today.

One of his curses, which had been traveling to and fro to observe what was currently taking place in the subway station and reporting it back to Kenjaku, had informed him that Jogo and Hanami were on the brink of death.

He couldn’t lose them yet. They were too powerful, and he needed their help for his future plans.

Kenjaku left the cabin, taking his curses with him.

And, without their cursed energy purposely making it difficult for Satoru to find you, he was able to pinpoint your exact location.

It appeared in his powerful mind as he was ripping Hanami apart limb by limb, and he wasn’t a fool. He didn’t know who was behind all of this, but it was clear that the mastermind had suddenly decided to let your whereabouts be tracked down in order to save Hanami and Jogo.

He didn’t want to make that deal. He wanted to kill these two, bring them back to life, and kill them over again. Their pain brought him joy, all because they took part in your capture.

But Satoru didn’t want his bloodlust to backfire. After all, if he killed the cursed spirits now, the person who held you captive could change their mind and move you someplace else and hide your location yet again, or, worse — they could kill you.

That wasn’t a chance he was willing to take.

Satoru stopped using his technique. But, as he left the subway station, he promised himself that eventually, he would kill those two. He would kill anyone and everyone involved.

But you came first.

You would always come first.

—

He found you.

When Satoru kicked open the door belonging to a raggedy, abandoned cabin, the scent of blood overwhelmed him. It dirtied his boots as he kneeled by your side. Your unconscious, bleeding body was lying there, simply left on the ground as if you were nothing.

“Y/N . . .” Satoru called out breathlessly.

He took the chains off of you instantly, his bloodshot eyes darting over every gaping wound.

It was indescribable — the anger he felt. He wanted to return to the subway and finish off those cursed spirits, to make them suffer and suffer and suffer.

But tending to you took priority right now. Satoru scooped up your broken and bruised body, holding you as softly as he could. A tear fell from his eye, splattering against your cheek.

“I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he spoke gently.

Your eyelids fluttered as you awakened. An overwhelming sense of pain slammed into you once you regained consciousness, and hot tears streamed down your cheeks. Prior to this, the only pain you had ever known was the wholesome body ache from tripping and falling while playing outside with your friends as a child. But this level of misery took away your ability to speak. Left you wondering if you were going to die.

You could make out stains of your blood on Satoru’s clothes.

Even so, you could tell based on the pained look on his face that he was suffering even more just from seeing you in such a condition.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he mumbled, slowly getting off the ground as he carried you. “This is all my fault. They did this to you because of me. I’m so sorry.”

Satoru raised you a bit, gently pressing a soft kiss against your forehead.

He’d give anything to switch places with you right now — to be the one in unspeakable pain. Why couldn’t they have kidnapped him? Tortured him? If he had the power to take away your suffering and give it to himself, he would. For you, not only would he kill, but he’d die, repeatedly and without a second thought or a moment of hesitation.

As Satoru took you to the nearest hospital, his tears spilling onto your body, he said, “We’re almost there, okay? I promise I’ll make them pay for this, and no one will ever lay a hand on you again.”

Arriving into the uncomforting white halls of the emergency room, Satoru handed you off to the nurses and doctors who rushed up to him. But, before they placed you on the nearest stretcher, Satoru kissed your forehead once again as unconsciousness claimed you, and he whispered, “I love you, Y/N.”

—

10:02 A.M.

Two days later, you awakened in a hospital bed. This time, pain didn’t greet you, but grogginess and blurred vision. The gentle beeps from the nearby machines certainly didn’t help your pounding headache.

Your sight started to clear up after blinking a few times.

Soft strands of hair tickled your arm, and when you looked to your left, you saw Satoru slumped in a chair, his head resting in his arms on the side of your bed. You reached over and ruffled his messy white hair a bit.

He shot up, startled. His blue eyes were wide with alarm, then they softened with gratefulness, but, lastly, they darted down with sorrow.

“Y/N . . . thank god, you’re awake.” Satoru croaked out in his morning voice, clearing his throat a bit. He was dehydrated — too focused on your recovery to worry about himself. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so . . .”

Satoru got out of his chair, sat on the side of your bed, and leaned over, resting the side of his head against your chest.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated.

“It’s not your fault,” you mumbled weakly. “It’s mine.”

Satoru pulled his head away from you, staring at you with furrowed brows and a confused gaze.

“What? No, it’s not.”

You couldn’t find the courage to look him in the eye. Kenjaku’s words replayed in your mind. They hurt just as much as getting attacked by curses.

As if reading your thoughts, Satoru cupped your chin, turning your head back in his direction.

“Look at me,” he said. “What happened wasn’t your fault. I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t care if you can’t fight curses-”

“You’re just saying that . . . because I’m kinda useful to you. But I’m easily replaceable. Speaking honestly, I’m a burden. You had to come save my life, and put yourself in danger. I’m not worth it.”

“You think I married you because you’re useful?” Hurt flashed in Satoru’s piercing eyes. “I’m in love with you, and you’ll never be a burden. I don’t care if you can’t fight curses. You’re my wife for a reason, and that’s because there’s nothing greater than seeing you get excited over finding your favorite snack at the grocery store or seeing the way you smile when your favorite scene from a show comes on, and you sit there and watch it as if you haven't seen it a thousand times. I love the way your eyes light up when you find a new activity in town for us to try, or a new book to read, or a new recipe. God, I just . . . I love you. I love you more than anything. I don’t know how you’re able to put up with someone like me. Every day I wonder how I got so lucky because I don’t deserve you. You’re too good for me, and I haven’t met anyone as loving as you are. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Do you understand me? I’d kill and die for you.”

Satoru gently wiped away the tear that fell from your eyes with his thumb.

“I love you too,” you smiled softly, leaning into his touch. “I’m sorry we missed our dinner reservations and the pottery class.”

Satoru couldn’t help but lean in and kiss your cheek.

“I’ve already rescheduled two weeks out.”

Moving away from your cheek, your husband softly kissed your lips. And while he had spent time rescheduling your date night and making sure you were receiving the excellent care you deserved while in the hospital, he was also hard at work, tracking down the monsters that dared to lay a hand on you.

He would make them suffer.

🏷️: @sad-darksoul @priv-rose @yihona-san06 @keriaonmarz @luvvmae @underworldsheiress @notgoodforlife @levisfavoriteteashop @insomniacbehaivour @preciousamethyst @kxmorrx @iwanttohitmyself @shoyosdoll @lil-apple-pie @prettypixigrl @sonarspace @averysmolbear @starstoru @starlightanyaaa @dolphin1135 @nnasv @hyunorue

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hcneymooners · 4 months ago

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⋆ i am afraid i will love you forever.

ambessa x sugar baby!reader x sevika. men & minors dni.

synopsis: ambessa & sevika are married for business reasons but cannot stand each other. however, they love you—you who are unaware that they are together.

cw: age difference, older woman/young woman, polyam but is it really bc they just love you and not each other, sugar baby!reader, business moguls!ambessa & sevika, power dynamics, power imbalance (you're a sugar baby, lol), sw, pining, non-sexual intimacy, sexually explicit content, threesome, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, oral sex (everyone is receiving at some point), masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, dom/sub, sub!reader, dom!ambessa, switch!sevika, mommy kink, strength kink, face-sitting, face fucking, possessive sevika & ambessa, y'all there's a lot of nastiness in here idk if i can warn for it all, discussions of sexuality, implied assault (non-graphic, within conversation), slightly dub-con, angst, angst with a happy ending, misunderstandings, arranged marriage, sexual tension, hate sex, bisexual!reader.

wc: 10.3k

PLAYLIST.

notes: y'all, i'm going to hell. i had fun with this. i have such a soft spot for plots like this.

ACT I: CONCEPTION. you were used to feeling like a guest in your own life, everything fleeting, everything temporary.

sugaring was something inherently lacking permanence, even in name. it was sweet for a moment, full of gleaming gifts that you accepted with perfect tears in your eyes.

you had more than enough money, saved from endless months in which you traipsed across the world in the hands of older men. maybe it was about the attention now, this idea that you were still young enough to be considered enticing without effort. maybe it was the desperation to wring what you could out of an age gap connection before you became the older one.

still, in the beginning years of your twenties, you found it increasingly grating. very quickly, you understood that the men were the main problem.

they were all the same: fleshy jowls wiggling as they chewed thickly through caviar and jasmine rice, their boisterous laughs sailing across tables when you attempted to join conversations. they took your interests and re-explained them to you, returning them pulpy and distorted as they attempted to convince you that you didn't understand them the way they did. their self-importance clung to them like cheap cologne.

the rare occasions where you actually slept with them were mercifully short, and you learned to suspend yourself out of your body. you would imagine hovering somewhere over yourself, banished to the lavish mirrored ceiling of the ritz or whatever opulent hotel they'd chosen. they shuddered awkwardly above you, and afterward, you'd come back into yourself only to scrub viciously at your skin under the unforgiving spray of the shower.

the women were different—usually. you found yourself drawn to their luxury perfumes and high society drawls. it was because of this that you dropped working through an agency—which you had originally chosen to better protect yourself from male clients—and began independent contracting.

you kept a private log of the ones you liked best. there was the private university professor (who was really a nepotism baby) who loved to wear le labo matcha 26 and smelled so deliciously of fig whenever she kissed you that you sometimes bought the fruit just to continue tasting her. her nickname for you was something in greek—μωρό μου, you think. moro mou. she told you it meant 'my baby', but in all honesty, she could have called you anything. you just liked hearing her speak.

you were a dreamy, distant creature. your appeal lay in your ethereal quality, moving through the world in a way that suggested you were detached from it. people described your presence as lingering, smokey and soft, like a fading perfume in a sunlit room. there was something endearing about the tilt of your head, the deliberate pause in your movements and speech as you stewed in thought, that made people stare a second too long.

you had plied yourself with romantic imaginations since you were younger, when you first grew to hate your mother. that hatred had led you across far waters into a glittering life of your own making. but you'd learned that women could be just as dangerous, if not more so. they could ensnare you, shatter your heart with just the flicker of a glance.

so, of course, this meant that you were bound to get caught in the tides of extensive affection at some point. you just didn't expect it to be with them.

🥩 ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚𓃔

the first sign should have been the unusual nature they coaxed from you.

you typically focused on one relationship at a time, securing yourself to a single person until you became too honest or too sensitive or too old. but with them, you found yourself with what you called a roster—a term your best friend and fellow sugar baby clleo (yes, two l's) took issue with during your weekly brunches.

"it's not a roster when it's only two women, [name]," she said, stirring her mimosa with a silver straw.

"it's more than one, no?"

"i feel like you have to have a minimum of three." she raised an eyebrow. "though i have to admit, even two is unusual for you."

the first was ambessa.

you'd met her when you weren't even looking, at some jazz show clleo had received tickets for from her newest beau. you had been perched inside the red velvet of the box, eyes roving over the insides of the other open balcony seats. you loved to observe, to look into others' lives and pretend they could be your own.

that night, you'd worn a navy slip dress that pushed the line of being dress-code appropriate, but it was comfortable and you had been tired. your hair was elaborately braided away from your face, threaded through with silk ribbons of the same color. despite its usually disagreeable nature, you'd managed to make it look elegant enough. your skin was littered with goosebumps from the fervent blasting of the air conditioning.

for once, you'd done your makeup the way you preferred it—less blushing ingenue, more cool nudes and a dark, bold lip. in the bottom of your purse sat two rolling bullets of lipstick: one a berry shade, the other a satiny red slightly subdued by a touch of brown pigment.

your feet had been curled beneath you, your ballet flats cast aside in the corner. the rounded tops were slightly scuffed, but you only saw it as a testimony of love. again, you looked out into the crowd only to find a woman looking back.

she was utterly beautiful, and your body flushed with heat for a moment, eyes wide like a doe. her skin was a dark, rich brown that gleamed with a sheen of oil and perhaps a shimmering body mist. her hair—black and streaked with thin rivers of gray—was pulled up into a tight bun, though the front was cornrowed. her mouth was full and smooth, a small gold cuff inserted in the middle of her bottom lip.

that night, she'd worn an oversized blazer over tailored pants. your eyes caught on her diamond cufflinks, and you felt your fingers clutch tighter around the bulk of your vintage ysl clutch.

she watched you with a sense of urgency, as if you might take flight like a bird and never return. bashfully, you turned back to watch the performance and clapped politely as it came to an end. her gaze never strayed from you, and as you rose to leave with clleo, you knew that she would be waiting.

you don't remember much of what happened after, of arranging the contract and indenturing yourself to her wealth. you only remember how she made you feel, her great body towering over you as she pierced you with her shrewd gaze. she'd cupped your elbow, pulled you gently to the side so that you were less in the way. the movement was easy; you trusted her with your body immediately.

now, ambessa reigned over the entries of your leather journal as your clear favorite. everything she did further endeared you to her, and you found yourself tumbling out of bed to check your phone where it lay on the floor, desperate for her messages. you watched the device all night, its flat body connected to a limp white cord plugged into the wall—willing it to ring.

and when she did call, you were almost delirious with joy.

ambessa's world was a carefully curated exhibition of power. noxus corp dominated the skyline with its obsidian tower, all sharp angles and tinted windows that reflected the setting sun like spilled blood. you'd learned early on not to ask too many questions about her work. the corporate merger making headlines—something about expanding into the industrial district of zaun—was just background noise to the way she'd trace your collarbone with cold fingers heavy with rings.

belatedly, in the midst of your betrayal and anguish, you’d berate yourself on your refusal to engage with real life when it inconvenienced you. you could’ve caught on, dived deep into the hole of information that was the internet as clleo did when taking up with someone new. but you didn’t, you just answered her call.

she liked to dress you up. tonight, it was a paper-thin black dress that cost more than your month's rent, the fabric liquid against your skin. you'd paired it with kitten heels that made soft clicking sounds against the marble floors—ambessa preferred when you were shorter than her, easier to maneuver, to possess. your lips were stained the color of coffee, and you'd lined your eyes with something dusky and soft.

the restaurant was the kind of place that didn't list prices on the menu, where the silverware felt weighty enough to be used as weapons. you liked this style of dining; it allowed you to escape further. you could pretend that since there were no prices, every morsel you ate was free and that the woman across from you was someone whom you loved and received love back from instead of bills.

“pull your hair back,” she commanded softly when you sat down, reaching across to brush a strand from your face. her touch lingered longer than necessary. “i want to see you properly. you should never feel a need to hide from me.”

you obliged, using the elastic around your wrist to gather your hair into a loose knot. the movement exposed the necklace she'd given you last week—a delicate thing of white gold and diamonds that probably cost more than your university education. her eyes darkened with satisfaction. she liked marking you with beautiful things, preferred to communicate through touch and gifts rather than words.

you preened under her clear pleasure. the idea that you’d done something right flowed through you, sweet as sugar as was the phenomenon of female favoritism. your tongue settled behind your teeth as she skimmed the menu, ordering for you as she always did. she seemed more aware of what you liked and needed more than you had ever been.

“are you alright with sharing the roast monkfish tonight, little lamb? i’m not all that hungry, so i think we should deal with something light.”

you nodded and she smiled, chucking your chin as she flagged down the server. you squeezed your thighs together, resisting the urge to rise from your seat and sit at her side with your head resting in her lap.

the waiter arrived with a bottle of wine you were unfamiliar with, which meant it was far more expensive than your beloved six-dollar gas station sémillon. as ambessa swirled the dark liquid in her glass, her phone buzzed. her expression hardened for a fraction of a second before smoothing over.

"business," she said simply, standing. "order whatever you'd like. i'll return shortly."

you caught fragments of her conversation as she walked away—something about zaun's infrastructure and liability concerns. one hour bled into two. the waiter refilled your glass with practiced discretion, and you watched the ice in ambessa's water melt completely. your phone remained silent except for a single text: an urgent matter requires my attention. car service will take you home.

the words blurred on your screen. you'd grown used to her absences, the way she could withdraw completely into her world of corporate warfare, leaving you adrift in these expensive spaces. but tonight, the emptiness felt sharper somehow. you had, more than ever, wanted her to take you home.

it was then that the woman entered the restaurant, right as you blinked upward to dispel the gathering tears. the air seemed to shift with her presence as she absentmindley looked in your direction.

she moved with the fluid grace of someone who knew how to handle herself in the cruel maw of this world, efficient and forceful despite wearing an expertly tailored suit. her left arm caught the light strangely—some sort of advanced prosthetic that spoke of military tech or private healthcare. a significant scar bisected her face, but rather than diminishing her beauty, it enhanced her striking features.

your paths crossed at the bar while you waited for a fresh glass of wine. she ordered whiskey, neat, and her voice was rough velvet.

"you're wearing that necklace wrong," she said, not looking at you directly. "the clasp should be centered at the nape. here."

before you could protest, her fingers—warm, unlike ambessa's—were at your neck, adjusting the chain. you caught a whiff of motor oil beneath expensive perfume. you swayed slightly, pressing into her touch. she steadied you with a single finger at the beginning knob of your spine, strong where you were momentarily weak.

"i'm sevika," she said, finally meeting your eyes. something in her gaze made your breath catch. you’d never seen eyes that grey. "you look like you could use something stronger than wine."

you smiled, albeit shakily, which avalanched into finding yourself talking to her about everything and nothing—about the book of poetry you kept on your nightstand for late night reading, about the way you collected vintage coats, about how you sometimes felt like you were floating three feet above your own life.

she listened with an intensity that made you feel anchored, present in your skin in a way you hadn't felt in months. her questions were sparse but precise, each one drawing out another story, another piece of yourself you hadn't meant to expose. and then she asked you to leave with her, and the answer was quick and easy. a light, eager ‘yes’.

the speakeasy she took you to was hidden beneath an auto shop, all exposed brick and piano medleys that wrapped around you like rope. in the dim light, you noticed the way her prosthetic arm moved with incredible precision as she gestured, the way her eyes softened almost imperceptibly when you laughed. she noticed you shiver and draped her jacket over your shoulders without comment, the leather still warm from her body.

"i manage specialized acquisitions," she said when you asked what she did, her smile suggesting there was more to the story. "currently dealing with some complex merger negotiations. but that's boring. tell me more about that poetry collection you mentioned."

you talked until your voice grew hoarse, until the early hours when the city felt like it belonged only to those who were lost or hiding. when she dropped you home, she fixed your broken porch light without being asked, her movements quick and purposeful. you found out later she'd also left her number saved in your phone under 's'.

what you didn't know—couldn't have known—was that across town, ambessa was returning to the penthouse she shared with her wife of six months, their marriage a carefully hidden clause in the merger agreement between noxus and zaun's industrial empire. their shared living space was largely ceremonial, each woman keeping to their own wing, intersecting only for appearances and board meetings.

that night, sevika found ambessa in their shared study, both of them surrounded by contract papers and acquisition reports.

"the zaun infrastructure reports," sevika said, dropping a thick folder on the desk. her wedding ring caught the light—a simple band worn only within these walls.

"you're late," ambessa replied without looking up. "the board expects updates by morning."

"i had a personal matter to attend to."

"as did i."

neither woman acknowledged sevika’s missing jacket which she never was without, nor the faint perfume—your perfume—that clung to ambessa's blazer. their arrangement was clear: their marriage was business, their personal lives their own. they had trained themselves not to care what, or who, the other did in their free time.

but that night, for the first time since their arranged union, both women found themselves thinking of the same person as they worked in silence. it was one of their more agreeable evenings together.

ACT II: GROWING PAINS.

“where do you go?”

you turned, half-lidded, your hair mussed into an untamed bird’s nest. sevika lay beside you, her smile a lopsided thing—teasing, warm, a little worn. you leaned toward her instinctively, pressing a lazy finger into the shallow dimple that cut into her cheek.

she caught your wrist before you could withdraw, lips brushing the tender pulse beneath your skin before pulling you into her chest. her hand slid across your stomach, warm and heavy, before it wandered higher to pinch your nipple just shy of too hard.

the two of you had met in a hotel, yet somehow, it felt less clinical than it should have.

“what do you mean?” you murmured, breath catching as her hand stilled.

“you go somewhere,” she said, “when we fuck.”

the words hung between you, and you felt your body shift under her scrutiny. her gaze trailed the uneasy motion of your shoulder blades as you shifted upright. honesty clawed at your throat, but you tried to swallow it back. you’ve never been the tiger, only the tiger’s bride.

“i often—” you broke off, tongue darting to wet your lips. her arm tightened around your waist, as if sensing your instinct to retreat. “i tend to disassociate when i do this part of things. i’m not—what i want, i usually can’t achieve. i don’t want to make it anyone’s problem, so i float.”

“float?” she repeated softly. her tone was unreadable, but you refused to meet her eyes.

“i pick a spot on the ceiling,” you admitted, voice small. “from there, i phase myself out of my body. it’s like it’s happening to someone else.”

sevika said nothing at first, and the silence thickened as you focused on the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest. then, carefully, she shifted you into her lap, holding you there like a delicate thing. her lips found the center of your chest, pressing a kiss over your heart before trailing up to the vulnerable line of your throat.

“you do this with me?”

“not always,” you whispered. “you’re…different. you pay attention to me—what i need. only two other people have ever been that way. both women.”

“mmm. do you still see them?” her voice was calm, but you caught the subtle current of possession beneath her words.

“only one.”

“and?”

“it’s good with her. one of the best.”

“and what do you want?” she pressed. the question lodged itself in your chest. “you said you can’t achieve it.”

your cheeks burned, and you squirmed in her lap, but she held you fast. “i—this is embarrassing.”

“there’s nothing embarrassing about your desires, baby girl,” she murmured, her tone soothing. “i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t want you to enjoy this too.”

“i do enjoy it, but…i’d like to go further. i like to go under.” you hesitated, then added, “you know that i’m—”

“submissive,” she finished for you.

you nodded, your voice softening as you continued. “i don’t really like the harsher aspects of submission, but i love being taken somewhere else—being softer. i love being told i’m good, that i’m doing well. i love being pushed past my limits, to the point where i’m…hazy. overstimulated. freed from my worries through my body, through the pleasure i give and receive.

“when you manhandle me, when you pull me close and push into me like you’re starving for it, when you break me apart with your mouth, i get so close. i hover in this warm heaven where i’m nothing but what i feel. you know?”

sevika’s expression softened, her face almost unbearably open. before you could process it, she moved, pressing you into the mattress beneath her. her broad frame blotted out the light, sheltering you in a cocoon of warmth and safety.

“you are good, baby,” she finally said. “so good.”

her lips fell again to your neck and you felt her slide her thick fingers into the warm walls of your cunt. a sound slid from your throat, something gutteral and worn. she began to move, curling her fingers as if you pull you closer. there, in the back of your mind, was that heaven.

she kissed your temple, her lips lingering there as your body arched into her hands. “thank you for telling me.”

then, softer: “that heaven? i want to take you there.”

the words sank into your skin, heady and heavy, as if she’d whispered she loved you.

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ambessa had endured a long day—one filled with tedious negotiations and the peculiar frustrations of ruling over people who thought themselves her equals. she'd craved just one moment of quiet in her house, but fate, it seemed, had other plans.

when she stepped through the door, the sight of her wife pacing their kitchen dragged a weary sigh from her chest. sevika's movements were sharp, her broad shoulders taut beneath the worn leather of her jacket. even now, after months of marriage, seeing sevika in their shared space felt like an intrusion.

for a fleeting moment, ambessa considered turning around, but she hadn’t built empires by running from conflict.

“sevika,” she began, voice clipped, “if this is about zaun’s profit percentage in the acquisition, i suggest you take it up with legal. i’ve no patience to discuss business tonight.”

“it’s not that,” sevika muttered, her tone bristling with frustration. “but thanks for your grace, medarda.”

ambessa’s eyebrow arched. “then what?”

sevika stilled, the weight of her gaze pinning ambessa in place. “are you the other woman?”

for a moment, the words didn’t register. then irritation flared, swift and hot.

“i thought we agreed we weren’t in love,” ambessa replied, dry as the desert. “who i see outside this house is none of your concern, unless it compromises our arrangement.”

sevika exhaled sharply, the sound edged with restrained anger. she reached into her pocket and retrieved her phone, its screen casting a gentle glow across the marble counter. with a few taps, she pulled up a recent conversation.

she paused, a smile stealing across her face as she took in the selfie you'd sent of you and clleo in matching milano blaniks. the tenderness in her expression was something ambessa had never seen before.

my feet hurt but it might be worth it!! you'd texted. she had responded in record time.

looking cute, baby girl. i like the purple.

me too! they had a navy and gold pair i would kill for, but i'm trying to be responsible.

sevika's smile deepened, and this time she sent a bank transfer along with her next message.

you can be a little irresponsible.

oh, sevi. that's not what i meant.

i know. i don't mind. get them both.

"i'm sorry, but were we not having a conversation?" ambessa's voice cut through the moment like frost.

sevika snapped back to reality, her face twisting into something ugly—the expression she reserved solely for ambessa. she selected another image, and ambessa stepped closer, her eyes narrowing at the familiar necklace adorning your throat.

she recognized it instantly—it had rested on her desk just nights ago, a small token of indulgence she’d gifted you during one of your afternoons together.

you were smiling, beaming, caught mid-laugh. your hair was damp, clinging to your cheeks, and a sea lion nudged at your side. it was an image of unfiltered joy.

"she was talking to me the other night," sevika began, her voice tight as a wire. "mentioned some other woman. i thought it was a client thing, but then she showed me this." she gestured at the screen. "that necklace. it was on your desk when i saw you."

ambessa said nothing at first, her jaw working. finally, she sighed, the sound heavy with something like resignation. “i didn’t know. i assumed she might have other clients, but i didn’t pursue her because of you.”

sevika’s shoulders sagged slightly, but the tension in her face remained. she bent her head, palms pressing into the cool marble of the counter. “what the fuck.”

“does she know?” ambessa asked after a beat.

"what would it matter?" sevika shot back, her voice rising like tide. her gaze locked on ambessa, and her lips twisted in disbelief. "holy shit. are you in love with her?"

the question hit like a blow, but ambessa’s reaction was instant.

“as if you’re any better,” she snapped. her tone turned venomous, sharp as a blade. “you sulk through the door, reeking of her sex, then slink into the shower as if i can’t hear you simpering in there.”

sevika straightened, anger sparking. “and you’re what? innocent?”

ambessa’s laugh was cold, cruel. “i’ve never been innocent a day in my life. but you—god, sevika, you’re pathetic. you’re worse than i thought.”

sevika’s fists clenched at her sides, but she didn’t lash out. instead, she held her ground, her gaze fierce. “what do we do now?”

ambessa hesitated. her mind raced through the implications, the potential fallout. finally, she crossed her arms, her posture stiff. “we don’t tell her.”

“and keep lying to her?” sevika’s voice cracked slightly. “how long do you think that’ll work?”

“as long as it has to,” ambessa replied, her voice low and final. “this arrangement isn’t just about her, sevika. it’s about us. about what we’ve built. if you care about her as much as you claim, you’ll think before ruining what little stability we have left.”

“for fuck’s sake, ambessa. she’s a sweet girl. she won’t—”

“you have no idea what she will do if she finds out,” ambessa hissed. “and i know how sweet she is. she’s the only goddamn person i know who can stand me. who do you think i’m really protecting?”

for once, sevika had no retort. the silence between them was loud, heavy, filled with unsaid things.

“i’ll handle it,” ambessa said after a long pause, her voice softer now but no less firm. “but don’t let your feelings make you sloppy. if you can’t compartmentalize, this will all fall apart.”

sevika turned away, her shoulders tense. “it’s already falling apart.”

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ambessa didn’t sleep that night.

not because of sevika’s words—though they lingered like a sour taste in her mouth—but because of you. she’d grown accustomed to the softness of your skin beneath her fingers, the way your presence softened the edges of her world, made it almost bearable. and yet, she couldn’t shake the nagging thought that you might be nothing more than collateral damage in this carefully constructed house of cards.

the following morning, as sunlight filtered through the sprawling windows of her office, ambessa reached for her phone. her fingers hovered over your contact, her mind warring with itself. she’d always prided herself on her control, on her ability to compartmentalize. but now, for the first time in years, she felt the cracks forming.

her phone buzzed before she could decide, sevika’s name flashing across the screen.

“what now?” ambessa answered, her tone clipped.

“the gala,” sevika began, her voice unusually subdued. “this year it’s your turn to host, right?”

ambessa’s grip tightened on the phone. “yes. and what about it?”

“and,” sevika said, dragging out the word, “she’ll be there. she got an invite through one of her clients.”

the air seemed to still around her. “you’re certain?”

“positive,” sevika replied. “what do you want to do?”

ambessa leaned back in her chair, her gaze fixed on the skyline. the decision should have been simple: handle the event with poise, maintain appearances, and ensure that you remained blissfully unaware. but something about sevika’s tone made her pause.

“we’ll stick to the plan,” ambessa said finally. “she doesn’t know, and she won’t find out. not from us.”

they both knew it was only a beautiful dream.

🥩 ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚𓃔

and then suddenly, it was different. it was horrible in its subtleness, but enough to make you less comfortable than you were before.

you went to dinner. ambessa watched you with eyes as sharp as her diamond cufflinks, and you wondered if she knew how small you felt in her presence. you let her brush her thumb over your lower lip, and you leaned into it, hoping she doesn’t notice your hands gripping your clutch too tightly.

“is something wrong?” you asked her, throat closing around the end of the question.

she seemed to startle, and leaned back with a shake of her head. you knew what was coming next. she was going to blame work or her family, which you barely knew about, or maybe something as clandestine as the weather. you suddenly felt entirely too sick. you took a sip of wine, eyes falling on the little brown bag that sat next to you.

every gift you unwrapped felt a little like a goodbye, the sparkle dulled by the unspoken terms behind it. you kept smiling, face stretching tediously through the pain though your heart was sinking because nothing ruined a good arrangement faster than too much honesty.

you must’ve overstepped somewhere down the line, and she had grown weary of it. you were sweating now, looking away from her. it didn’t help that your phone had stayed dark all evening, your slew of messages to sevika read and unanswered.

“i finished that book you gave me,” you offered and ambessa nodded. “it was lovely. a little macabre, but i managed to push through.”

“bessa?” you asked, voice small.

the nickname seemed to spur her back into herself and she reached across the table, clutching your hand. her rings pressed cold indents into your skin. you'd grown to love the weight of them.

"the annual noxus environmental gala is tomorrow night," she said finally. her thumb traced circles on your palm. "i'd like you to come."

your heart stuttered. she'd never invited you to a public event before. "another client already invited me. i’ll be there."

she squeezed your hand once before letting go, unfazed by the mention of someone else. "good."

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the evening was opulent in a way that made your skin prickle. the ballroom shimmered with soft golden light, chandeliers casting their glow across marble floors that reflected everything like still water.

you'd been invited by marcus—a client who preferred your company over dinner to discuss art and literature, who looked at you like you were made of gold but never asked for more than conversation. he was safe, a spiderweb you could free yourself from anytime without losing any skin.

your dress—a gift from ambessa—felt like a confession of infidelity. marcus had said nothing in the car, but his face had been momentarily confused. he kept track of what he gifted you, and he hadn’t seen this before. you offered no explanation, just smiled softly and held his clammy hand.

the fabric whispered against your skin with every movement, reminding you of her touch. you held your champagne glass like a shield, watching the bubbles rise and disappear, each one carrying a fragment of your certainty with it.

the past week had been strange. ambessa's usual sharp edges had softened into something almost tender, while sevika's messages had grown shorter, more distant. she’d eventually responded to the ones that had been read, but you felt as though you had disturbed her with them. you'd attributed it to work, to the upcoming shareholder conference business weekly had written about. you were good at making excuses for the people you loved.

and then you saw her.

ambessa stood on the stage like she'd been born there, her voice carrying across the room with the kind of authority that made everyone else feel small. her dress was long and white, with a delicate slit framing the plump skin of her thigh. it clung to her frame with an elegance that made your heart ache. you didn't want to admit how your chest tightened at the sight of her, how your body betrayed you with its instinctive pull toward her presence.

but before you could fully process the sight of her, another figure emerged from the crowd.

sevika.

she stood near the base of the stage, her broad frame impossible to miss. her presence was quieter than ambessa's, but no less commanding. the way she held herself—like she belonged here, like this was her world too—made something cold settle in your stomach. you shifted away from marcus, moved slightly forward with a furrowed brow.

it wasn't just their proximity—it was the way they moved. the way sevika's gaze lingered on ambessa, the subtle nods they exchanged, as if communicating in a language only they were privy to. and then, as if to confirm your worst fears, ambessa's hand brushed sevika's arm in a gesture so familiar, so natural, that the truth hit you like a truck.

the matching rings caught the light. the world tilted sideways.

the soft hum of conversation turned to static, the lights too bright, the room too warm. you tried to steady yourself, clutching the edge of a nearby cocktail table and nearly taking it down, but the weight of realization pressed down on you like a tide. marcus was asking after you, but you snapped at him.

you thought of the gifts—how similar their tastes had been. the way they both knew too much about each other’s companies, about each other's worlds. the little moments that should have added up but hadn't—because you hadn't wanted them to. you'd ignored the signs, wrapped yourself in their separate affections like blankets against the cold.

someone nearby whispered, "isn't that their…" the words trailed off, heavy with implication. you spun, eyes wide and searching. you couldn’t tell who had spoken.

the champagne glass slipped from your fingers. it didn't shatter—caught by a waiter's quick reflexes—but the sound of it leaving your hand seemed to echo through the room. both women turned at the noise, their expressions shifting from professional neutrality to something raw and complicated.

“do you know her?” the question came from a guest nearby, their curious tone laced with amusement.

the tension shattered. the murmurs began, the subtle shifts of the crowd as more guests turned to watch the unfolding spectacle. your voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the gathering noise like a blade.

“how long?”

ambessa stepped forward, her movements slow and deliberate, as if approaching a wounded animal. “it’s not what you think—”

“don’t,” you snapped, your voice trembling with anger and heartbreak. “don’t you dare lie to me.”

sevika tried to intervene, her hand reaching out as if to steady you, but you recoiled, your fury spilling over. “you both knew,” you said, your voice rising. “you knew, and you let me—”

sevika tried again."baby—"

"don't." the word came out hard and cold.

you backed away, your heels suddenly unsteady beneath you. the crowd parted like water, their whispers following you like shadows. you felt that your dress was transparent, exposing your body to the their ravaging gaze. you made it halfway down the marble steps before sevika caught your arm. her touch was warm, familiar—everything you'd grown to love and now couldn't bear.

"please," she said, her voice rough with something like desperation. she couldn’t possibly understand what it meant to be desperate. "please."

"let go of me." you tried to pull away, but she was stronger. had always been stronger.

"we never meant—"

"what?" your voice cracked. "to hurt me? to make me look like a fool? do you think i love being a loser? that i would be fine because i would view this as some way of knowing what it was like to win?" you yanked harder, and suddenly you were falling.

the puddle wasn't deep, but it was enough. your dress—ambessa's dress—soaked through instantly, clinging to your skin like shame. you stayed there on your hands and knees, watching your tears make ripples in dirty water.

"stand up," ambessa's voice came from behind you, softer than you'd ever heard it. “come inside. we can—”

"no." you pushed yourself to your feet, water streaming from ruined silk. your makeup was running—you could feel it tracking down your cheeks, and somehow that small detail destroyed you more than anything else. for the first time in a long time, you felt ugly. "i don’t want to come inside."

when you looked up, they were both there. ambessa's perfect composure had cracked, showing something raw underneath. sevika looked like she wanted to reach for you again but didn't dare.

"were you laughing about it?" your voice was barely audible. "about how pathetic i was, falling for both of you?"

"no," sevika said quickly. "god, no. we didn't even know—"

"until when?"

"a week ago," ambessa admitted. the truth fell between you, landed hard.

you stepped back, barefoot now, heels dangling from one hand. "oh my god. were you ever going to tell me?”

their silence was answer enough. the air around you grew thin.

a scream rose up from the depths of you before you could stop it, and echoed wildly from the sides of surrounding buildings. you clutched at your face, eyes screwing shut as you let out a terrible heaving noise. you knew they were seeing you now as you really were: a frantic girl who clasped desperately at whatever she could get in order to save herself.

“i hate you,” you screamed at them, hurling the words like they were knives. “i hate you! i never want you to speak to me again.”

it was rendered useless because the three of you knew that simply wasn’t the truth.

“just—leave me alone,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

their expressions were unreadable. if you gave in to your delusions, you could believe that ambessa looked slightly ill.

you walked away, legs shaking, each step carrying you further from everything you'd thought was real. behind you, you could hear them arguing in harsh whispers, but you didn't turn around. the city lights blurred through your tears until everything was just a soft shape and shadow.

your apartment felt suffocating when you returned, the silence oppressive in its stillness. you sank onto the couch, your dress pooling around you like a shroud. the tears came in waves, each one more relentless than the last.

you thought of ambessa’s calculated charm, sevika’s quiet strength, the way they’d both made you feel seen, cherished. and then you thought of the lies. you reached for your phone, your fingers trembling as you typed out a message. but no words came. what could you possibly say? that you hated them? you’d done that. that you missed them already? that you wouldn’t know how to exist without them?

instead, you deleted their numbers, one by one, the act feeling both liberating and excruciating. for the first time in what felt like forever, you were truly alone.

your mother was right. you were such a fun girl, but impossible to love. when someone looked at you, they’d never see someone worth settling down with. another wail unearthed itself, reverberating through the grave of your body. you twisted, holding yourself with your own arms as you felt the grief break you down.

you would never see them again. there was nothing worse than this, not now. you felt like you’d be better off dead.

ACT III: DEFORMATION.

ambessa hadn’t slept in days.

the boardroom’s fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across her sharp features as she reviewed contracts she couldn’t focus on. every word blurred into the next, her thoughts returning to the look on your face when the truth unraveled.

“i don’t think i can fix this,” she had told sevika the night it happened, her voice hollow as they sat in the dim confines of her private office.

sevika hadn’t responded, her silence cutting deeper than any argument could. ambessa could tell her wife blamed her, and in some ways, she couldn’t disagree.

sevika, in response, buried herself in her work. her nights were spent overseeing global operations, her jaw clenched tight as she barked orders to underlings down the phone who didn’t dare question her unrelenting pace.

but even the chaos of the company’s industrial sprawl couldn’t drown out the memory of you. the sound of your pleausre haunted her—high and wispy as she ate at you. her dreams were vivid, stuck on the way you’d lit up when you talked about the things you loved—things she hadn’t known enough to ask about.

they’d both lost you, and they felt it in the empty spaces you’d left behind.

ambessa, meanwhile, pulled back. she gave the reins to her daughter for an indeterminate amount of time, something viewed as largely positive and a sign of trust. but those who knew her interpreted it as a sign of grave danger.

her days were spent much like yours, wrapped in the endless heart of her bed which she only left to sink underneath the soapy water of a warm bath. there were several evenings where sevika would stumble home, slightly drunk but coherent enough to check on ambessa and yank her from the bottom of the bath.

“no,” she rasped, her hand tight on ambessa’s thick wrist. “you face it.”

and you?

well, eventually you realized that the world would continue to move on. blessedly, your breakdown hadn’t hit the headlines or social media platforms. you knew this had to be the work of them, but it was the least you deserved. you cut all arrangements you had leftover. the gifts were boxed up and put into storage.

despite your dramatics, you reminded yourself to not be stupid. all cash you had kept was deposited into your bank account, in increments so it wasn’t flagged as suspicious. you had well over thousands, so you broke your lease and found a block several miles from where you used to be.

you’d invited clleo to live with you, but she’d refused citing her current suitor as her preferred living situation. she felt that he was the one, that they would marry. you felt your bitterness rise up, but you shot it right in the middle of its scaled head. you were happy for her, you said instead of “he doesn’t mean it. please don’t believe him.”

please send an invite.

she’d cupped your face and kissed your cheek. of course. you’ve been with me through everything.

so, you broke another lease and left the city.

ACT IV: REVIVAL.

true to her word, clleo did get married, and she did more than invite you. you were her maid of honor; the only bridesmaid at that. this meant that you were captured into a lavish gown that showed more skin than you thought would be appropriate.

“we can’t forget where we came from,” clleo had said coquettishly, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. she treated you so fragilely now, and you clung to it. you were pretending it was something else.

the wedding was a spectacle of opulence—ivory drapes cascading from every corner of the venue, chandeliers dripping crystal tears, and flowers so fragrant they felt like an embrace. the air buzzed with the cloying sweetness of a celebration meant to declare love eternal. you floated through it all, a wraith in your own right, bound by duty and the magnetic pull of clleo’s joy. you wore the dress she picked for you: black satin that crushed in on itself like paper whenever you moved and clung like sin, with lace so delicate it felt like a secret. it revealed too much and not enough all at once. you wondered if she’d done it on purpose, if she’d wanted you to stand out or to feel exposed. to embarrass you.

no, this was clleo. you were simply…paranoid now.

the ceremony was a blur, a kaleidoscope of vows and veils, of clleo’s radiant smile and the way her hand trembled in her husband’s. you caught the bouquet because she’d aimed it at you, her laugh like champagne bubbles bursting in the air. it was later, during the reception, that you felt it—that electric hum at the back of your neck, the awareness of being watched. you turned, and there they were.

ambessa and sevika.

they stood together, an impenetrable force against the crowd. ambessa’s gaze was as sharp as ever, her golden gown gleaming meanly, a study in power and restraint. sevika, beside her, had the air of someone caught between worlds, her hand resting on a glass of something dark, her eyes locked on you. they hadn’t been invited. you knew this because clleo would have warned you. yet here they were, as if summoned by the threads of some cruel, cosmic joke.

your stomach tightened, but you refused to look away. instead, you tilted your chin, the soft wave of your hair catching the light, and took a slow sip of wine. if they wanted to haunt you, they would have to work for it.

it didn’t take long. ambessa approached first, her steps deliberate, her presence cutting through the crowd like a blade. “you look beautiful,” she said, her voice low enough that it felt like a secret. you hated how your skin warmed under her gaze.

“you shouldn’t be here,” you replied, though the edge in your voice felt dull, worn down by something deeper.

sevika joined her then, her expression inscrutable but her proximity unnerving. “we needed to see you,” she said, her voice rougher, as if it cost her something to speak.

“at a wedding? how romantic.” you let the words hang, your lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “good thing it’s not mine.”

sevika’s lips twitched, and you scowled. your pain was not for her amusement.

“[name], we made mistakes,” ambessa said, and for the first time, there was something fragile in her tone, a crack in the glass. it distracted you from your ire. “but we haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

you set your glass down, your fingers trembling against the crystal stem. “i don’t think this is the time or place.”

“when is?” sevika countered, her voice steady but her eyes revealing something raw. “you’ve been avoiding us.”

“i said i never wanted to speak to either one of you again and yet, here you are,” you said, your voice sharper now, cutting through the haze of alcohol and longing. “do you think crashing a wedding will fix what you broke?”

ambessa’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away. “we’re not here to fix it. we’re here because we can’t let it end like this. and it’s not crashing if the groom extends an invite at the behest of the bride.”

your heart stuttered, and for a moment, the noise of the reception faded into a dull roar. clleo’s laughter rang out from somewhere behind you, a reminder of where you were, of what you’d tried so hard to rebuild. why did everyone betray you?

“i can’t do this,” you whispered, stepping back. the movement felt like tearing yourself in two.

“baby girl,” sevika said, her voice low, almost pleading. “look at me. this isn’t some big scheme, okay? let’s talk. we don’t even have to do it here. we can go anywhere you fucking want. just like before, mama.”

you shook your head, the weight of their words pressing against the fragile walls you’d built around yourself. “i need air,” you said, your voice barely audible, and before they could respond, you turned and slipped into the crowd.

“[name!]” ambessa called.

fuck being the tiger's bride, you were the tiger. you stood your ground, kept walking.

🥩 ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚𓃔

the gardens were quiet, the air cool against your skin as you leaned against the wrought-iron railing. the night sky stretched endlessly above you, an intricate canvas of stars that felt too indifferent to your pain. but the world wasn’t responsible for soothing you.

you’d thought the distance would help, that the cool air would clear your head, but instead, it only magnified the ache in your chest.

you heard them before you saw them, the soft crunch of gravel underfoot. you didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge their presence, but you felt it—that charge, that unbearable pull that had slaughtered you repeatedly since the beginning.

“i didn’t ask you to follow me.”

“we’re not asking for forgiveness,” ambessa said, her voice soft but firm. “we are willing—we’re willing to take what we can get. we want to make this right.”

you turned then, your eyes meeting hers, and for the first time, you saw it—the vulnerability, the regret. sevika stood slightly behind her, her expression shadowed but her eyes fixed on you with the same intensity.

“and what does that look like?” you asked, your voice breaking despite yourself. “what could you possibly do to undo the damage?”

ambessa stepped closer, her hand hovering near yours but not quite touching. “we can’t undo it,” she admitted. “but we can promise to be better. to show you that you’re the only thing that matters.”

“you’re both so good with words. but words don’t mean anything if they’re not backed by action.” you laughed then, a bitter sound that cut through the stillness. “you always made me feel like i mattered. that’s why it hurt so much. i have no place between you.

sevika finally spoke, her voice quieter but no less resolute. “then let us prove it. on your terms.”

“you’re not good for me.”

ambessa glided forward, caught your chin inbetween her thumb and index finger.

“nothing in this world that we want with so much intensity will ever be good for us.”

you looked between them, your heart a battlefield between desire and self-preservation. the silence stretched, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. finally, you broke out of her grasp, a small, tentative gesture that felt like stepping off a cliff.

“i have no place between you,” you said again, your voice barely more than a whisper.

sevika's shoulders sagged with disappointment, but ambessa’s lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile. she was like a bloodhound with weakness.

“is that what you want, lamb?” you looked up at her, sensing a shift in the air. “you want to be between us? coddled, warm, and safe?”

“ambessa—” sevika began, but the other woman held up a hand.

“you would’ve been fine if you had know that we were married from the beginning, hmm? is that it? your conscience would’ve been sated, right? because it’s not homewrecking or infidelity if the partners are aware of the others transgressions.”

“that’s not fair,” you snapped.

“mmm, well life isn’t. besides, you must be stupid if you think every client you’ve been with hasn’t once had someone waiting at home. this is your life, little lamb. your permanent affliction,” ambessa sneered. “i think you like it.”

you knew this game well. she pushed you, said the best things to make you act your worst. if you gave in, she won.

“fuck you, ambessa.”

“gladly,” she said with a small smile.

you scoffed, irritated beyond belief and moved to storm past her. by doing so, you gave her what she wanted. as you made an effort to leave, she cinched your waist with her arm and pulled you back into her chest. you could feel her breasts against your back, full and ripe like fruit.

“what are you doing?” you asked incredulously.

she didn’t answer, only hiked your dress up to press a ringed hand to your cunt. she held it there, groping the warmth of you until you were leaking in response. you let out a strangled squeal, legs kicking to no avail.

“see? you want us so badly. it’s like an instinct.”

you glanced at sevika, hoping for some fucking common sense but found her gazing at your lace-clad panties with something unfathomly angry lurking across her face.

“who the fuck gave you those?” she said quietly.

you stopped struggling, looking at her fully now. her stormy gaze lifted, piercing you like a spear through weak flesh.

“it wasn’t me, and ambessa never gifted you shit like this.”

“i had—i had other clients,” you answered and she rolled her shoulders, skulking forward. “but i bought these myself. i don’t see anyone else anymore. i can’t—i couldn’t. it was hard.”

her face softened at that, and she came closer. her large body covered the front of you, shielding your exposed body from any prying eyes. this meant that ambessa could slide the fabric to the side and dip a finger into your cunt. the slide was slick due to your drooling arousal, but the pain still startled you.

she was large, almost too much, but it seemed to burst a part of you that had been straining at its locks. you let loose a silent cry, shuddering desperately in her grasp as she explored you tenderly. sevika cooed, claiming your mouth in a bruising kiss.

“hold on,” she murmured into your mouth and you clutched onto her, gripping tighter as ambessa gave you over.

sevika walked you over to a small alcove, expertly hidden from immediate vision and grunted as she held you up with one arm—removing her jacket with the other. once the concrete floor was covered appropriately, she lowered you on top of it carefully.

you released her, but barely had a moment to thank her before she was on you. your first thought was that it was like before: relentless, tender, and crushing. her hands slid up your thighs until they grasped at your hips. you rocked into her, moaning softly as she squeezed the soft meat of your stomach. your breath came fast, labored and fueled by aching.

“it’s okay, baby. ‘m right here,” sevika said, her voice low and firm.

she pulled back, spreading your legs till the pink of your pussy was revealed to her hungry gaze. it winked at her, clenching around nothing the longer she looked.

“jesus, i’ve missed this,” she murmured.

you flushed, body pulsing hot with flame. from the side of you, ambessa came prowling. she lowered herself to her knees, back arching neatly as she crawled into the apex of your thighs. her mouth descended upon you with a fervor, her lips closing around your clit and sucking. your back bowed until you were practically hunched over her, hands in her thick hair.

she only adjusted herself so that she could better lick into you, her tongue lapping at every crevice of your cunt. you were dripping all over her face, hips bucking as you fucked forward onto her tongue. her hands came to cup the peach of your ass, squeezing and tugging until you felt like nothing more than a piece of meat. after a moment, ambessa pulled back and laughed as you tried to follow.

“sorry, little lamb, but i need to know if i’m doing a good job” she watched you, eyes sharp. “i know you are.”

you shivered at that, and she smiled. impatiently, you further opened your legs and pushed your sopping pussy toward her.

“c’mon. please.” when nothing happened, you let out a groan. “you’re doing a good job.”

“who’s doing a good job?” ambessa asked, moving closer.

you shivered again, your brain beginning to mottle and smear.

“you are, mommy.”

“fuck,” sevika groaned.

satisfied, ambessa suctioned her lips back over you. you let out a high moan, pushing your chest out. sevika reached over, tugging the bust down and exposing your tits. your nipples were straining toward her, so she dragged one in between your teeth. with a cry of surprise, you slammed your thighs closed around ambessa’s bobbing head. she did nothing to open them herself, only slapped a hand on your inner thigh to get you to correct yourself.

“yes, fuck,” you cried. “fuck, please. please. ohhhh.”

ambessa shook her head back and forth, letting herself get messy as she pushed her face deeper inside of your pussy. you were fully fucking her face now, your clit engorged and begging. whatever filter you’d had before was gone now; your mouth ran like water from a faucet.

“yeah. yeah, mommy, like that. eat your baby’s cunt. lick your girl’s pink little pussy.”

ambessa moaned, her nails digging into the skin of your ass. you bounced as much as you could, that warmth coiling deep inside your stomach. sevika was still teasing your tits, but she had a hand inside of herslef now—her pants pushed down for better access.

when you realized she was trying to rub one out, you came with a primal grunt. ambessa attempted to pull back but you kept her where she was with a firm hand at the nape of her neck. breathlessly, you coaxed sevika up for a kiss and then pulled her away by her hair.

“i want you to touch her,” you instructed. your voice was shaky as you edged toward your second orgasm.

it took her a minute to register what you meant and you watched her cheeks darken, her eyes flickering toward ambessa’s rippling back inbetween your legs and then back to you.

“i know you want to, sevi,” you murmured.

your mind was almost gone now; you were so close to heaven.

you could see her warring with herself, but you also knew her love for you would win out. with a curt nod, she moved until she was behind ambessa and lifted her dress until she was face to face with her naked ass. with an efficent movement, sevika pushed ambessa’s legs open so she could smell the musk of her large cunt. there was a moment where you weren’t sure if she would obey, but then she dived in—licking a large stripe between ambessa’s folds. you seized around ambessa’s tongue as she squealed in surprise, your orgasm pouring from you like honey.

you puhsed her off of you and crawled onto all fours, squatting slightly to make the push of your fingers easier as you entered yourself. despite not pleasuring you anymore, ambessa made no effort to move as sevika slapped a hand on her ass as she slurped at her pussy.

“holy shit,” ambessa muttered and you grinned.

“have you—have you touched each other like this before?” you asked, voice breaking as you reached that spot long your walls. “did you fuck when i left to try to stave the guilt?”

there was no answer, but ambessa stiffened. you laughed, bright and a little unhinged. it was confirmation that they’d thought about, but had never actually followed through. you were in a squatting position now, positioning your hips as you rode your own fingers. you wrist twinged in discomfort, but you were more determined to cum for a third time.

faster and faster, you rode. your head was turned up toward the ceiling of the alcove, your tits bouncing as you began to crest that wave. you closed your eyes, focusing on the shaky inhales of ambessa and the wet squelches of sevika feasting on her.

there was a pause, so you opened your eyes and found sevika flipping ambessa over so that the bigger woman sat on her face. like this, she was even more insatiable. she rocked ambessa back and forth on her face, spreading her own thighs weakly as heat cascaded through her.

you weren’t sure what did it: sevika’s newfound desperation to actually fuck her wife, ambessa’s unrelenting eye contact as she came, or the high whine sevika released when ambessa leaned back to fuck two fingers into her frantically pulsing cunt.

but whatever it was ravaged you. you screamed as you came for the third time, legs trembling as you squirted all over yourself and sevika’s suit jacket. the comedown was impossible. you were incoherent, moaning wildly as the pleasure possessed you.

you heard them both scrambling to move toward you, but you held a hand out. your neck bent, your body settling onto all fours like a lame animal as you let your cunt flutter and clench through the remnants of your orgasm. your chest heaved frantically, but you were euphoric. you’d done it, reached Heaven and taken control.

you glanced up at them and know from the look on their faces, you’ve never been this beautiful. if this was what the french called a little death, you wanted to die forever.

“this is your place,” ambessa said hoarsely. “you belong right in the center. you are the only one who understands. you are our center.”

sevika lay next to her, and she said nothing for a long while. then her face turned toward you. you met her gaze unflinching.

“baby girl, please. please.”

you thought you were the loser.

“it has to be different,” you finally said. the two women broke into identical smiles. “it has to be. i want you to be transparent with me. i’m not a little child.”

you thought you were down for the count.

“like you said,” you continued, staring right at them. “you are my life. this is my life.”

but here you were, the last woman standing.

⚚ special taglist: @venusiandyke @thatonetargaryen @drgnflyteabox @y2kas13 @baeumonde @blackdykegirlblogger @slut4sevika @sevikasllver @indigopearl96 @dut1fuldyk3 @imheadintothemountains @bambishaven @kirammansbow @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @nightlyconfusion @sevikasrightboob @half-of-a-gay @nsfwruru @yourlovesicklibra @tnash-tammy @sweetcinnamoncookie6 @bluferret @doppelman @savedforlaterr @sevikasserafim @fruitfulfashion @soniiyi @namuranguinhos @16novvs @bubblestrbls @spidercat-soccerfan @pllduniverse @sugrcookiiee @iwasholic @sevslefthand @starting6over @fxngsfxgxrty @leone007 @ambessaswhore @jvalentinelvr @bella-goths-wife @maaaaaaaaaaari @elena0497 @powderpinkandsweeet @sweetcinnamoncookie6 @pearldaisy @sevikas-whore @wolfessa @lazyartizt

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rpwprpwprpwprw · 27 days ago

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jungkook in multiverse: fanfics recommendation 💌

Your neighbour? Spiderman? Best friend? Husband? Idol? Your dead ex? Yeah, he can be that guy.

ps: thank you authors! love you guys. so much. your stories means the world to me <3 (like this is art piece! no joke

jungkook masterlist.

summary: you pride yourself on being a professional, but sometimes your students' parents really test your patience.

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🌟clandestine by @junghelioseok | smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au | completed

summary: forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

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🌟 see both sides like chanel by @michuga | best friends to lovers, sexual tension, fluff, reader is a little absentminded, jk is a damn tease | completed

summary: your best friend, jeongguk, has only ever dated boys. unbeknownst to you, (he was also into girls).

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🌟 LATE NIGHT KOO 01:15 by @guksfairy | dabble, jungkook x reader | completed

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🌟 dream encounter by @michuga | jungkook x reader | completed

summary: you meet the man of your dreams. literally.

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🌟 heartwave by @chrrybbmb | spiderkook!, spideyjungkook, spideykook, spideyjk, spideykoo, spideyjk | ongoing

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🌟 i love you — a compilation by @kissforyouu | compilation of cute, funny and delicious stuff | completed

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🌟 peach and vanilla lip balm by @httpknjoon | genres | fluff, crack, secret relationship au, established relationship au, friends to lovers au | completed

summary: No kissing rule was made between you and your secret boyfriend when he learned how you got your lip balm. But can Jungkook win in this rule he probably brought to himself?

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🌟Third Time's the Charm by @jjungkookislife | ex-boyfriend!jungkook x ex-gilfriend!reader | genre: crack, exes to lovers | completed

summary: Jungkook will do whatever it takes to get you back.

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🌟Inevitable by @ahundredtimesover | Genre/Tags: exes au, parents au, baseball player!JK; angst, fluff, smut (18+) | completed

summary: You convinced Jungkook to break up years ago so he could pursue his lifelong baseball dream. Now he’s back home, staring at you, and the little boy next to you who looks unmistakably like him.

my review, my review, my review

🌟to be loved is to be seen by @twilghtkoo | pairings. idol!jungkook x reader | genres/aus. fluff, established relationship, idol!au | completed

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🌟 checkmate by @kookie-krumbss | genre : fluff, angst and smut | pairing : photography major/ bartender jungkook x econ major/ accountant reader | ongoing

summary: It's been 5 years since you've last been on the dating app - checkmate. The premise of the app is quite simple: enter your bucket list, and the algorithm finds your best mate to check off your bucket list goals. With a free premium pity membership given by the app, maybe its time to hop back onto the dating scene.

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🌟está dañada by @aquagustd | genre/rating — R | angst, fluff, smut | neighbor au, slow burn, singer!JK | completed

summary: life through the eyes of someone who watches you fall apart and helps gather the shards of your heart, only for you to make the same mistake time and time again, but he refuses to accept the truth because to him, you’re infallible.

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🌟 the jeons (gym daddy) by @justarkive | family!au, non.idol jungkook, girl!dad jk, fluff | ongoing

summary: a collection of chaotic family drabbles. thats it.

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🌟Blame Morpheus for your sins by @voitier | [mini-series!] friends to lovers, college au | ongoing

summary: 𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽... you and jungkook had been attached by the hip since you were little toddlers learning how to live in your own bodies, which led you two to spend most (if not all) of your life together. one weird dream makes your whole view about your best friend change. how will you live with that?

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🌟the lunchbox delivery by @jincapableoflove | genre: househusband! jungkook, corporate office worker! reader, established relationship, flufff | ongoing | drabble

summary: jungkook, your soft yet badass househusband, goes on a city-wide mission—apron and all—to deliver the lunch you forgot in your morning rush.

my review

🌟shameless by @kooktrash | genre/au: gym instructor!y/n x jungkook. infidelity au. obsessive [she/her. afab] yandere | completed

summary: unsatisfied with your current relationship, you find yourself swept into an affair with a regular at your gym. it turns out he’s not the sweet, charming man you fooled yourself into believe he was but for some reason, you keep going back to him.

my review

🌟long way home by @sparklingchim | genre: dilf!jungkook, friends to lovers | tropes: single dad jk, boxer!jk, !angst! | completed

summary: jungkook's life makes an 180 degree turn when he's suddenly a single dad and while you're trying to help him come accustomed to the new circumstances, your long-standing friendship takes new turns as well.

my review

🌟Assistant Boy by @httpjungkookcom | Genre: assistant boy!jungkook x desk receptionist!reader, smut | completed

summary: Summary | sitting pretty at a desk all day gets boring, dealing with minimal tasks and check ins. you're unbelievably excited when a new assistant joins the office. and said assistant is a pretty boy with an even prettier personality.

🌟 lovenotes by @voyter | neighbor au. secret admirer koo | completed

summary: trying your hardest to avoid valentine’s day, you suddenly find yourself at the center of it when a secret admirer starts leaving notes at your door.

🌟 Baby Girl by @euno11a | Pairing: DILF!Jungkook x PreSchool Teacher!Reader | ongoing

summary: You always gave yourself one rule, never fall for a single dad. It would be messy and you’d never be his number one. So why did your favourite kid’s dad have to be so hot?

🌟 Broke Boy, Fake Girlfriend by @aajjks | genre: 18+, crack, roommate au | fake dating \ completed

summary: Your annoying roommate, Jungkook’s shameless fake dating act goes hilariously wrong when he thinks he can charm you into paying for his café splurge, but you turn the tables with some dangerously sweet flirtation.

🌟Dentist appointment by @hellokittykookies | genre: fluff | completed

summary: you’re scared of the dentist and jungkook comes with you to cheer you up. Unexpected words come out of you after the appointment.

🌟Instagram by @jeo9n | genre: fluff, slow burn, friends to lovers | ongoing

summary: you’ve been texting jungkook on instagram non stop ever since he opened his account as a joke. but what you didn’t expect was for him to actually text you back.

🌟NO NUT NOVEMBER by @voyter | boyfriend!jk | completed

summary: jungkook and his friends are all in on the internet's most ridiculous trend: no nut november. but you’re determined to make your boyfriend lose — and you know just how to do it.

🌟Introvert by @avianyuh | completed

summary: Jungkook is an introvert. He enjoys seeing his friends, but he hates having to leave the house. When Jimin throws a birthday bash, Jungkook being one of his closest friends feels obligated to go. He has his whole night mapped out. He'll greet Jimin, eat some food and then leave once he's made small talk with the other guests. But when the party makes a detour and hits the club, Jungkook is plotting his escape route. Or at least he was until he met you.

🌟Winter things by @girlygguk | genre fluff, smut | golden retriever bf x black cat gf, long distance established relationship | completed

summary: it’s jungkook’s favorite time of year and the only thing on his list is you. getting to finally feel you, see you, meet you outside of his computer screen. now it’s happening. and, god, you’re even prettier in person.

🌟Hot Eve by @aajjks | smut, ex!boyfriend!jk | completed

summary: getting fucked raw by your ex boyfriend stuck in an elevator on Christmas Eve.

🌟NOT JUST ON CHRISTMAS by @girlygguk | genre established relo, college au, fluff, smut | pairing nerdy!jk x gf!reader | completed

summary: he's the first boy you've ever brought home for christmas. jungkook's nervous. you're horny.

🌟Inkling by @gguksgalaxy | AU: Tattoo Artist ›› Genre: Smut / Angst | completed

summary: Jungkook is your brother’s boyfriend’s co-worker, they own a tattoo and piercing parlour. In other words, he’s tall, gorgeous, has his passion literally etched into his skin, looks incredibly good in a man-bun, and is semi-unattainable for you. Why? Well…you’re not entirely sure but him ditching right after a very heated make-out session sure isn’t a good sign. His extremely poor mood the next week sure isn’t either, but the only way to fix it is to face the beast head-on. Right?

my review

🌟Better Than Him by @margotw10bis | roommate!Jungkook x reader | Genre: fake-dating; romance; smut; one-shot | completed

summary: When your boyfriend cheats on you and decides to bring his lover to the wedding you invited him to, you take vengeance by pretending you have a new boyfriend: your hot roommate.

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enhaflixer · 1 month ago

Text

bf! Enhypen x f! reader - MAKING OUT IN THE CAR.

fluff, angst, crack, suggestive.

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

You don’t even remember how it started. One second you were teasing him about his playlist, and the next—he was leaning across the console, hand sliding behind your neck, lips brushing yours with that soft, dangerous smile.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” he murmured, voice low. “Keep talking.”

You do. Until he kisses you mid-sentence.

The kiss is slow at first. Hot and deep. Like he’s trying to unspool you. His lips are so soft it’s criminal, his tongue flicking teasingly until you gasp—and then he really kisses you. Full pressure. Full tilt. His thumb strokes under your jaw while the other hand grips your waist, dragging you across the console like you weigh nothing.

You end up in his lap, straddling him, knees wedged awkwardly between the steering wheel and the seat—but he doesn’t care. He pulls you in like he’s waited all week for this.

“Fuck,” he groans, licking into your mouth, breathing heavier now. “Why do you always taste so good?”

Your hands fist in the fabric of his hoodie, grounding yourself against the slow roll of his hips. Heeseung kisses like it’s the only language he speaks—fluid, deep, greedy. He bites your bottom lip, then sucks it just to soothe it. He groans when you pull his hair. He whimpers when you moan into his mouth.

Every time you try to pull back, catch your breath—he chases you. Whispering, “C’mere. One more. Just one more.”

You’re flushed, dazed, lips swollen and aching—but he’s not done.

“Everything you do turns me on,” he mutters against your mouth, like it’s killing him. “You’re in my lap, making those noises, pulling at my hoodie like that—what do you expect me to do?”

You try to tease him—“Then do something, Hee.”

But your voice cracks halfway through, and he smirks.

“Say less, baby.”

His hands slide under your hoodie, dragging up your spine, fingertips hot against your skin. You squirm. He groans again, deep and filthy. His mouth finds your neck now, kissing and sucking, tongue flicking over your pulse until you’re gasping his name.

Your hips grind down, and he freezes.

“You wanna keep doing that,” he pants, “we’re gonna have to move to the backseat.”

You blink. “Is that a threat?”

He leans in, kisses you hard—biting, possessive, deliciously desperate.

“It’s a fucking promise.”

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠

The world outside is still. Streetlights casting soft gold through the windshield, low music humming through the speakers. You’re in Jay’s lap, knees on either side of him, your hands tucked into the collar of his sweatshirt.

His palms are warm on your thighs. Steady. Just resting there. His gaze flickers from your lips to your eyes, and he’s smiling. Just a little. That soft, private smile he only gives you when it’s quiet like this.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice a little raspy, thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin.

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He leans in, slow, like there’s no rush at all. “Can I kiss you?”

You whisper yes. He was gonna do it anyway—but he always asks.

The kiss is gentle. Warm. Deep, but unhurried. His lips part just enough to pull you in, tongue brushing yours in a slow, quiet rhythm. He’s not trying to overwhelm you. He’s just here, and so are you, and that’s all he needs.

He kisses like someone who could stay like this forever. No urgency. No agenda. Just the feeling of your hands in his hair, the way you sigh into his mouth, the soft sounds you make when he licks a little deeper and you melt against him.

You rock forward a little, accidentally grinding into his lap—and he groans softly, but doesn’t chase it. Doesn’t push it further. Just presses a kiss to your jaw.

Then—softly, with a lazy smile on his lips:

“You don’t have to do anything.”

Not as a warning. Not to stop you. Just… because he means it.

You blink. “What do you mean?”

His fingers trace the outside of your thigh, feather-light. He shrugs a little, still smiling. “I already like this. You. Us. Just like this.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want you. You can feel how much he does. But there’s no pressure behind it. No edge. He just kisses you again, gentle and slow, like there’s no finish line. Like being here, like this, with you in his lap and your fingers in his hair—is already everything.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he repeats, softer this time, thumb brushing your jaw as his eyes flicker down to your lips. “Just be mine.”

He kisses you again—deeper this time, hands firm on your hips now, breath mixing with yours—and it’s the kind of kiss that tells you everything.

He’s not going anywhere.

He’s not expecting anything.

He just wants this.

You.

𝐒𝐢𝐦 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧

You’re barely ten minutes into the drive when you notice it.

Jake’s unusually quiet.

Not teasing. Not humming along to the music. Just… sitting there. Hands tight on the wheel. Glancing at you every few seconds.

You turn your head. “You good?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He’s staring at your mouth.

Your glossy, plump, lip-glossed mouth.

You blink. “Jake?”

He swallows hard. His tongue comes out—just a little—peeking out the corner of his mouth as his eyes lock on your lips.

And stay there.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” he finally mumbles, eyes still on your mouth.

“What?”

“That gloss,” he says, voice already shaky. “The peachy one. The one that smells like candy? That tastes like it too?” His jaw flexes. “You know what it does to me.”

You try to hide your smile. “You’re being dramatic.”

He lets out this soft, broken laugh—like he can’t believe you’re gaslighting him in this moment of genuine crisis.

“Baby,” he whispers, biting his lip like it physically hurts to hold back. “You don’t get it. I’ve been thinking about your mouth since you got in the car.”

His tongue comes out again, wetting his bottom lip. His hand lifts, fingers twitching, like he wants to touch your jaw but doesn’t trust himself to stop if he starts.

“You’ve just been sitting there all pretty and giggly and licking your lips like you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

You blink. “You’re literally sweating.”

“I am!” he cries, eyes wide, looking genuinely distressed. “You haven’t even kissed me yet and I’m already hard—what is wrong with me?”

You lean in slightly—just a bit—and his breath hitches.

“I’m gonna crash this car,” he says quietly. “I swear to God.”

Your smirk grows. “You want me to kiss you that bad?”

Jake nods, completely unashamed, eyes dropping to your lips again.

“Baby, please,” he breathes. “I’ll be so good. Just—fuck—kiss me before I die.”

When your lips touch his?

He melts.

One hand flies to your cheek, the other to your thigh. He kisses you with tongue, with teeth, with gratitude. He moans into your mouth like he’s being saved, like he’s home.

The second you pull away—giggling, smug, lips wet with his and yours—

He’s already leaning back in, whining, begging softly:

“Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. I’m so fucked up over you.”

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧

“You’re so annoying,” he snaps, tugging the sleeves of his sweatshirt down over his hands like a child. “You literally ignored me the whole time we were there. You didn’t even look at me when I got in the car.”

You’re trying so hard not to laugh. He’s full-on sulking. Legs pulled up on the seat, arms crossed, bottom lip sticking out in a bratty little pout.

“I didn’t ignore you,” you say, leaning back in your seat.

“Oh really?” he shoots back. “So you weren’t laughing extra hard at what Jay said? You weren’t pretending like I wasn’t there the second someone else gave you attention?”

He sounds like a freshly divorced housewife recounting her worst trauma.

You just blink at him. “Sunghoon.”

“You literally ignored me the whole time—like I was just there, watching you laugh with everyone else and pretend like I didn’t exist. And don’t even get me started on the way you smiled at that guy—like?? Did you see the way he looked at you?!”

You’re perched next to him, holding in laughter, watching him pout like he’s auditioning for a villain monologue.

“I wasn’t even smiling at—”

“Oh my God, YES you were,” he says, dramatically clutching his chest. “You were doing that fake ‘I’m so sweet and cute’ smile that you know drives me insane and—why are you looking at me like that.”

You lean in.

He freezes.

But only for a second.

Lick his nose.

A full, flat-tongue, slow little swipe up the bridge of it. Like a menace.

He freezes. Blink. Blink.

“…EW??” he shrieks, smacking your shoulder. “What the fuck is actually wrong with you?!”

You’re laughing so hard now you’re wheezing, and he looks so offended it’s like you committed a crime. But underneath the rage is the tiniest pink blush crawling up his ears.

He wipes his nose with his sleeve, still glaring. “You’re disgusting. You’re literally an animal. Like what goes on in that freak brain of yours—”

But he doesn’t get to finish.

“Wait no I’m not done, I—mmph—!”

You kiss him. Full and slow. Hand curling around his cheek, thumb stroking just under his eye.

He moans into your mouth for half a second… before pulling back to keep talking.

“Okay no, because seriously, I’m not trying to be annoying, but like—you do this, you always kiss me to distract me—”

You kiss him again.

He’s still talking. Lips moving against yours, voice muffled, pouting into your actual mouth.

You groan and slap a hand over his lips.

“Mmph!!” he protests, wide-eyed.

“You’re so annoying,” you mutter. “Why are you even talking while I’m kissing you.”

He just glares, still muffled behind your palm, mumbling like a brat.

So you do what must be done.

You climb into his lap.

Grab both sides of his stupid pouty face.

And kiss him so hard his entire body goes still.

One sharp inhale. One twitch of his fingers.

Silence.

He melts.

He goes fully boneless.

Hands sliding up your back, mouth parting, his whole body sighing under you like his brain just shut off. You lick into his mouth slow and deep and feel him whimper into it.

When you pull back, finally, finally—he’s flushed. Dazed. Blinking like he’s just seen the face of God.

You smile sweetly. “Are you done now?”

“…No,” he mumbles, but it comes out breathy and wrecked.

So you kiss him again.

And he forgets what he was mad about completely.

𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐨

Your face is still wet with tears when he kisses you again.

Slower, deeper this time. His hand cradling your jaw, thumb stroking your cheekbone like he’s trying to soothe you through every inch of skin.

The kiss is quiet. Messy. Tear-salted and trembling.

But he doesn’t stop.

He kisses you like you’re fragile—not like you’ll break, but like you already have, and he’s gently putting you back together.

You try to pull away, embarrassed, but he shakes his head, forehead resting on yours.

“Don’t go,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut. “Let me stay with you like this.”

And then he kisses you again—sliding his tongue slowly into your mouth, warm and gentle and real. It’s not perfect. Your breathing stutters. His fingers tremble. But it’s soft and tender and so full of love that it makes your chest ache worse.

He pulls you into his lap, arms wrapping around your back, the kind of hold that says I’ve got you and I’m not letting go. His lips find yours again. Again. Again.

You’re still sniffling, still raw, but now you’re gasping too—because the kisses are getting longer, deeper. His mouth opens against yours, tongue brushing sweetly, and you can feel him pouring love into you with every movement.

His voice breaks between kisses. “You’re okay,” he whispers. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

You fist your hands into his hoodie. You kiss him back, harder. You melt. You fall.

He lets you.

He kisses your cheeks between breaths. Your nose. Your lips again, slow and soothing, as his hand rubs your back.

Every time you start crying again, he kisses you harder.

Not because he wants anything.

Not because he’s trying to fix it.

Just because he needs you to know you’re not alone.

“You don’t have to be okay right now,” he whispers. “You just have to be here. With me.”

And when he kisses you again—it’s the kind of kiss that says:

Even if it hurts, I’m not going anywhere

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧

The tension in the car is unbearable.

He’s angled toward the window, jaw tight, hoodie pulled halfway up over his mouth, the way he always hides when he’s not ready to talk.

But his shoulders are tense. His eyes keep blinking too fast.

He’s not mad anymore. He’s hurt.

It’s so much worse.

You slide closer in the seat, your heart pounding. “Jungwon…”

He doesn’t move.

You try again, softer this time. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Still nothing.

So you cup his jaw gently, fingers trembling, and lean in. Your nose brushes his. His lips are parted just slightly, breath shallow, but he doesn’t lean back. He doesn’t stop you either.

You press your mouth to his—slow, careful, trembling.

He doesn’t kiss you back.

But he doesn’t pull away.

That’s how you know how bad it is.

Your heart cracks open.

You kiss him again, your forehead pressing against his, your voice shaking. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please don’t shut me out.”

Then he moves.

His hands slide to your waist. His mouth finally responds.

Not rushed. Not greedy.

Just… broken.

He kisses you like his heart’s still hurting.

Like it aches to forgive you but he can’t help it.

His lips are soft but tight. His breathing is heavy.

And when you deepen it—tilt your head, lick softly into his mouth—he makes the tiniest sound in his throat.

Like he’s been holding back tears.

You pull back, just slightly, resting your forehead against his.

“I know I hurt you.”

His fingers curl into your hoodie, gripping tight.

He kisses you again. Harder this time. Shaky and wet. Still not perfect. Still not even. But full of every unsaid thing.

You feel it in the way he exhales into your mouth like he’s been holding it in.

You feel it in the way his thumb strokes your side like he’s grounding himself.

You feel it in the way he pulls you closer, like he needs your heartbeat to match his again.

You kiss him back like you’re sorry. Like you love him. Like you’ll spend forever making it right.

And when you whisper “I’m still yours,” he kisses you again like

he never stopped hoping you were.

𝐍𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐤𝐢

You haven’t kissed him in like… forty minutes?

Which is, according to Ni-ki, emotional abuse.

He’s in the passenger seat, legs manspreaded like he owns the car, head tilted back in utter despair, hoodie strings in his mouth. He looks wrecked.

“You’re literally torturing me,” he mumbles, voice muffled by fleece. “You’re acting like every time I kiss you, my tongue tastes like battery acid.”

You side-eye him, scrolling on your phone. “Did you not act like you didn’t care the last four times I tried to kiss you?”

He groans like you’ve stabbed him. “Okay, yes. I did. But only because I thought it was funny. I didn’t know you were gonna get all revenge mode on me. I didn’t think you were gonna turn into a sexy little ice queen who punishes me by making me feel like a diseased boy on the street.”

You snort. “Maybe I like diseased boys.”

“I’M SICK BUT I’M CUTE,” he cries dramatically, slapping a hand over his heart. “I’m a treatable disease.”

You keep scrolling. Calm. Untouchable.

He’s spiraling.

“Fine,” he groans. “I get it. I’m sorry. I’m sooo sorry, baby. I’ll never be cool again. I’ll never act like I don’t care. I’ll tattoo your name on my ass and wear a leash with your initials. But please—please stop acting like kissing me is the emotional equivalent of licking a sidewalk. I am BEGGING.”

You shrug. “Dunno what to tell you bro.”

His whole body seizes. “DON’T BRO ME.”

You glance over. He’s fully pouting now, big eyes glossy, lips parted like he’s this close to crying. He looks like a kicked puppy in designer sneakers.

“Bro,” you say, just to be a menace.

“I’m gonna cry,” he whispers. “Y/N, I’m gonna sob in this car and you’ll have to live with that.”

You finally sigh, put your phone down, and tilt your head toward him. “Okay. One kiss.”

His face lights up. Like Christmas. Like salvation.

“Really??”

“One.”

He scrambles over the console like he’s climbing Everest, hands gripping the seat, hoodie riding up. He grabs your face in both hands and immediately crashes his mouth onto yours like he’s been waiting years.

And it’s a MESS.

He’s kissing you like he’s trying to prove something. Like if he kisses hard enough, you’ll forget you were ever mad. His tongue’s already in your mouth, greedy and desperate, lips sliding over yours wet and fast.

He groans—groans—into your mouth when you let him deepen it, fingers sliding into your hair, his whole body shivering.

“I missed your mouth,” he pants between kisses. “I was going insane. I’m so dumb. You’re so hot when you’re mean. I deserve to suffer. But also can you make out with me forever now?”

You pull back, dazed. “You’re literally out of breath.”

“I’m in love,” he wheezes.

You roll your eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

He’s already kissing you again. Slower this time. Wetter. Deeper.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “But you like it.”

You hate how right he is.

TL: @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @somuchdard @ijustwannareadstuff20 @ddolleri @zzhengyu @annybah @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @bloomiize @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4ss @starniras @wonuziex @sol3chu @simj4k3 @jakewonist

2K notes · View notes

januaryembrs · 1 year ago

Text

YOU WERE LIKE AN ANGEL TO ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says- i’m a menace but i ADORED the spencer fic u posted 🥹 UGH THEYRE SO CUTE YOUR HONOURRRR 👹if it’s okay, may i request another fic with the same couple 🙈 perhaps one day reader is not as sweet or chirpy as she usually is, or she gets injured or threatened in the field? much love and lots of kisses xoxo 🫶

Description: Spencer swore he wanted to hate her. She was too happy, too chirpy, too much for a guy who spent months rotting in prison. But how could he ever hate her when she cried in his chest like that?

Length: 5k (I'm feral for these two)

warnings: post prison reid. Angst. depiction of suicide from the Unsub. gory language used. guns mentioned. mention of $nuff video and other murders. Nothing that hasn't been done on CM already.

authors note: if y'all want to see more with these two just SAY because I am all ears I would die on this ship

There were a lot of times in his time at the BAU that Spencer had wished he could have changed the outcome of their bad guy, surprisingly enough. There was the time they found their UnSub a few minutes too late, and one of the victims fathers decided to take him out then and there with a shotgun to the head. He was just a kid. There was the entire time he was with Tobias Hankel, and he lived in a state of both fear and sympathy for the boy trapped in his own body after years of abuse. There was Nathan Harris, the kid who had stopped him at the subway station and practically begged him for help to stop his urges to murder, only to slit his own wrists before Spencer could get to him because he thought he was tainted.

He could see how it was easy in their job to get wrapped up in saving the day, in saving everyone they could. He just had hoped, on some stupid grace of a god he didn’t even believe in, that she would have at least remained untouched by the bad luck.

Spencer had always thought, since the first day he had arrived back into the office after his stint in prison, that she seemed to just waltz through life easier than anyone else. He knew the concept of luck was not quantifiable, that it was just a coincidence that good things happened to some people, and bad things happened to others. He always grouped himself in with the latter, because what was his entire life if not one bad hand of cards after another?

Part of him had been seething with vitriol jealousy when he first met her. He hated how the elevator doors seemed to open without hesitation for her, no waiting required. He hated how her hair never seemed to fall out of place, while his required primping and preening to upkeep. He hated how she was always so happy, whether it had been she’d been given an extra cookie at the bakery for free, or her coffee had just tasted super delicious that morning, or the road works clogging the city had been put on hold the one day she needed to drive into the office. She was one of those people, he had decided, that life just seemed to smile down upon, and she beamed back in that dazzling grin.

He felt sick to his stomach for ever wishing it gone, especially when she looked like she might never smile again.

They never liked to say that they had easy cases and hard ones, all of their cases were difficult to process. But this one had been a handful above the rest.

“UnSub has been killed on site, all units stand down,” Luke said into the radio, and the entire squadron took a sigh of relief, all of them except him.

Because he saw that look in her eye, the way everything sparkly about her seemed to have vanished.

They had been following Bobbie Wrids for a week. Five bodies in, five men shot between the eyes execution style, almost six by the time they’d arrived on the scene.

She’d gone with Tara around the front of the abandoned building; Penelope tracked their newest victim, Henry Frond, through his phone pinging off the nearest satellite towers, and it had been straight forward from there. Or at least it should have been.

Because by the time Spencer and Luke arrived in their own SUV, Penelope had time to access the rest of Henry’s phone, and it was clear to see the victimology behind all six men.

They were distributing snuff videos of women, some between themselves, some to other usernames on the darkweb, and Bobbie Wrids’ daughter had been one of them.

Bobbie had become somewhat of a vigilante, but he was a grieving father above all. He was a wounded animal chomping at the bit to soothe the ripping pain of his daughter's murder, the same one those men were getting off to.

Tara and her exchanged a glance as Penelope relayed the information over their headsets, her once serious expression falling into something sombre and sorrowful. How could she arrest a man she couldn’t help but feel sorry for, one she couldn’t help but think wasn’t entirely wrong in his actions.

“Bobbie Wrids,” Tara’s voice was stern, cutting through the silence of the desolate building. Their footsteps were careful as they made their way through the hallway, down to what had once been a rec-room, or perhaps a staff room, where they knew Bobbie had Henry, “This is the FBI, we’d like to talk,”

They heard nothing, and she looked up to the older woman hesitantly, her finger hovering over the trigger the way Spencer had taught her. Tara took a minute, knowing she was leading the charge here with the girl being so inexperienced, before she nodded to the door knob and the rookie twisted the handle, pushing the peeling wood open gently.

Bobbie Wrids stood in the centre of the room, moth eaten couches either side of the damp rug, the ceiling tiles half caved in from wear and tear. Henry Frond was already a pulp in the UnSub’s arms, and yet it was Bobbie that her eyes shot to first, sympathy shooting through every fibre of her being when she saw the distraught look on the father’s face.

He was grieving. He was grieving his little girl’s death. He was looking for a solution, and this seemed to be his best bet.

“Bobbie,” Her voice was shaky, her and Tara frozen in the doorway as the man brought the pistol to Henry’s beaten face, cocking it towards his temple before they could even explain themselves. “We’re going to come in, is that okay? We just want to talk, just let us talk-”

They had only edged closer by three paces between them as she was speaking before his knuckles turned white and he squeezed the gun tighter to Henry’s skin, the barrel contorting the flesh, “Don’t come any closer, this pig isn’t worth your mercy,”

“We know,” She said, her and Tara slowly stepping over a fallen ceiling tile, cracking under her boot as she met his desolate gaze for the first time, his head snapping to her. “We know what he did, Bobbie. What they all did.”

His throat bobbed, his bottom lip quivering and the sight of it, a man so broken, forced a frog into her oesophagus, and she willed herself not to cry.

“They hurt my little girl,” Bobbie choked out, his face turning mauve as the tears began to build behind his eyes, “She was my girl. She was only eighteen.”

She nodded, his wetted hues seemingly permissive when she stepped closer to where he held Henry hostage.

“I know, I’m so sorry for what happened to her,” She said, her voice croaky, unstable as she wrenched it into something audible, “I’m so sorry,”

“He doesn’t deserve mercy, none of them did,” Bobbie spat, his forearm crushing against Henry’s trachea in a vice-like grip. The man floundered, a wheeze coming from his lungs, not that she felt much sympathy for him.

She sprung into action, flicking her gun onto safety and holstering it, Tara doing the same as she lowered her weapon to her side. He profiled as a vigilante; he had no reason to hurt them.

“Bobbie, listen, I know they didn’t deserve to walk free, okay?” She said, taking the smallest step towards where the men stood, “But she wouldn’t want this for you, would she?”

The man flinched, his jaw hard as a rock with how he clenched his teeth together, as if holding back a sob.

“Come on, Bobbie. Let him go, we have enough evidence to get him sentenced. We can get you a plea deal, I know a good lawyer,” She begged, because she wasn’t beneath it, because she knew he was a good man backed into a corner, “Please,”

Maybe it was the way her eyes were soft when she looked at him, or the fact two more agents burst into the room from the hallway, Spencer’s eye immediately falling to where she was stood so close to their UnSub, her gun out of hand. Tara stood by, but that wasn’t good enough for him. He edged with light footsteps until he was behind her, his gaze cautious, never leaving the gun in Bobbie’s hand.

“Please,” She repeated, and Spencer saw Bobbie’s shoulders drop, every sliver of resolve draining from his body at her gentle tone, a deer approaching a hunter.

Henry was thrown to the floor, the man practically dead weight as he gasped, almost retching at the feeling of air sucking back into his chest frantically, and Luke and Tara were quick to wrestle him into cuffs, the woman reading him his Miranda rights.

Spencer almost made a grab for her then, because she was still creeping forward towards the man who had a loaded gun still live in his hand. He didn’t care for one second that the statistics said Bobbie wouldn’t lay a hand on her since she wasn’t part of his list. He didn’t care that every sign pointed to their UnSub being benevolent towards women, especially younger ones, that she fit his daughter’s description. Spencer didn’t care, he wanted her as far away from that gun as possible.

His heart lurched into his throat when Bobbie did in fact make a lunge for her, just not the way he’d feared. Because she had grabbed him. She’d pulled him into an embrace, a hug, kind and sweet as she always was.

Spencer cursed her for being so soft. It was going to get her killed.

“Agent,” His voice was terse, worried if you dug a little deeper than the sharp surface, but she didn’t listen to him. She held Bobbie tight as the man unravelled on her shoulder, falling into heart breaking sobs and it was then Spencer realised she was crying with him.

“It’s going to be okay, you’re okay,” She was shushing him, the killer, reassuring him he was safe, as if the killing thing wasn’t still between his fingers that clutched at her back with rough hands.

“They killed my girl, they took her from me, and then they laughed about it,” He wailed, and she nodded, squeezing him even tighter if that was so possible, “No one would listen, the police didn’t listen, I had to do something,”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” This was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be sympathising with the criminals. But she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t help the gasping urge to comfort the man who had lost his whole world, “I’m listening. Tell me about her,”

“She was so beautiful,” Bobbie whimpered, sniffling into her shoulder. Spencer felt his chest twinge at the scene. He hated that she was so soft. “She never hurt a soul,”

She cried with him, though hers were choked down as much as she could get them, her wet cheeks the only proof she had ever let them slip.

“I’m sorry,” She said again, because no matter how many times she repeated those two little words, it would never bring his daughter back, “I can help you,”

He pulled away from her shoulder, and it was only then that Bobbie Wrids even noticed Spencer, his face taut in anxiety as he watched the man’s hands still holding onto her body as if she was the only thing that kept him upright, which Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if it were true.

He fished the cuffs out of his back pocket, his finger never leaving the trigger as he stared down at their UnSub cautiously. He knew he may be being cruel, knew that ten years ago he would be just as caring as her. But that Spencer was long gone. And what remained was screaming in terror that she was in the line of danger, that she was holding the danger in her bare hands like she didn’t see the jeopardy she was putting herself in.

Bobbie pulled away to look at her, the creases around his eyes deep chasms, and even with the smattering of grey hair, the stubble, the cold, empty look of someone with nothing left, she thought he might have been a handsome man once. He looked at her with a ghost of a smile, and one of his callused hands came up to tuck her hair behind her ear as if it had been second nature to him for eighteen years.

“You’re a sweet girl,” He murmured, and she blinked at him, her chest easing at the way his wails had subsided into something quiet. She could help him, she swore she would help him. He was a good man beneath it all. “But no one can help me anymore, sweet girl,”

And with that he lifted the pistol beneath his chin and pulled the trigger.

—

She heard someone scream before she realised it was coming from her own throat, but her ears were ringing and she couldn’t open her eyes. Her face was wet and hot, and for a second she thought it was tears, but she was beyond crying now. She felt arms pulling her back into a strong chest, and someone was murmuring to her, or perhaps they were speaking normally and the sound of the gunshot had knocked her hearing. Either way, it was like someone had pulled a bag over her head as she brought her shaking hands up to her eyes to wipe.

She managed to crack her lids then when the sludge was gone, only to see the room still a blurry mess. She could make out, in the haze of blobs and crimson tint, Bobbie’s body slumped to the floor, a dark puddle seeping into the rug as those long arms tugged her out of the room. She only then looked down to her hands where she had rubbed her face and she caught the same claret plasma coating her fingers, her white shirt, her pants, her arms. It covered her head to toe.

It was in her eyes, she realised when she saw the ichor coating her fingertips. It was blocking her vision, turning the world a vivid wine colour, and she thinks she whimpered, or perhaps it was a moan of horror seeing the puddle beneath Bobbie’s body growing larger by the second.

“I don’t understand,” She said out loud, her head spinning, and she brought her fingertips up to her eyes again, maybe to get the blood out, god there was so much blood on her face, or maybe because she hoped to everything out there that she would clear her sight and find it all a terrible hallucination, the product of one too many nights of sleepless tossing.

But when she rubbed her lids again, this time seeing the scene a little better, Bobbie was still dead. She had still been too late.

“You’re in shock, you need to breathe,” A voice instructed her over her shoulder, and it was from the same person who had their hands around her waist, pulling her away from the crime scene, as CSI filed in from behind them.

She tried pushing the arms off her, weak because she couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t the horror in her stomach, and it took her a second before she listened to their words and realised she was holding a breath in her chest, the way a toddler does when they’re overwhelmed.

“I don’t-” She gasped, the air rushing through her lungs, so fast it made her cough, “I don’t understand, I was going to help him- I don’t understand- why?”

“I know, just breathe for me, sweetheart,” Spencer. She only just realised it was Spencer speaking, because he had never called her that and the gentle tone he’d taken was nothing like his usual, civil cadence. He had been dropping a few jokes the past few weeks since she’d driven him home, had been more touchy feely with correcting her form when she was at the shooting range, had delicately touched the small of her back when they were navigating a crowd together. He was slowly cracking from his statuesque expression that hadn’t left his face since he’d gotten out of prison, but the softness with which he held her waist was entirely new.

“Spencer, I don’t- I don’t get it,” She said, her voice bubbling into a sob as she allowed herself to be pulled away with no fight left in her. He took her into the hallway, turning her body from the sight of his hand lifeless on the floor with little to no effort. She was damn near limp in his arms, “Spencer, I don’t under-understand, I was going to h-help him, why would h-he do that-”

“Shhh, you need to breathe,” He murmured into her hair, trying to lead her out the front of the building and far away from where she’d just been front row seats to a messy suicide, “Come on, just breathe for me, baby, and then we can talk,”

But she wasn’t listening, and he wasn’t offended. Spencer knew it was the shock. He knew the symptoms by how her respiratory system had picked up in a matter of seconds and it was like she had gone from zero to a hundred. She let out a long whine, tears collecting the blood on her lash line and her chest seized into action, gulping down air, too short to do anything for her lungs, and her legs began to buckle beneath the two of them.

Spencer stopped in the hallway, realising she was in more shock than he must have thought. He knew she was sensitive, hell it was one of his favourite things about her. He knew she felt everything so deeply, burned too easily, like a daisy wilting in a dry heat, or candyfloss melting in his mouth. Spencer knew, as awful as watching death up close was for any agent, it would hit her hardest of all of them.

He moved around to her front, his hands migrating from her waist up to her shoulders, brushing over her upper arms soothingly. But her body felt numb, her head felt heavy, and her eyes were glazed over, down a rabbit hole entirely away from him, even when one of his hands cupped her wetted cheek gently.

“Just breathe, hey, look at me,” He tried a firmer tone, and she bent to his will too easily. It was a punch in the gut seeing everything shining and pretty leached out of her eyes, as if she had become soulless in a matter of minutes, as if she had lost all hope in the world the second Bobbie pulled that trigger. She looked like hell, blood still fresh on her cheeks, in her hair, smeared around her eye sockets where she had scrubbed so hard to get it off her skin, “You need to calm down, you’re going to faint if you don’t breathe,”

She nodded, or something close to it, her eyes falling down to the floor, and she seemed to wrestle for control over her chest then. But what came after was worse, Spencer thought. Her brows screwed together, her eyes welling up with more of those fat tears, and her lips dropping into a devastated pout, her eyes trailing over the mess on her uniform, on her hands.

“Spencer, I don’t understand, I tried to help him, I wanted to help him,” She sobbed, sniffling to herself miserably, and he barely even thought about it when he pulled her into his chest, not caring that her skin would dirty his shirt.

His hand wound into her hair, stroking her sweetly as she buried her wails into his vest. He used his other arm to pull her close to him, which she seemed to have zero qualms about as she clawed at his back to keep him close, as if she didn’t want to face what was going to happen when they left that building.

Spencer regretted ever thinking her sunshine was too bright for him.

–

She hadn’t smiled in a whole week. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had given Penny a very forced smile when she had fussed over the younger woman the first day she got back, had said thankyou with downcast eyes and a fragile grin when the blonde presented her with a framed picture of a puppy to keep on her desk ‘incase she needed something nice to think about,’

She hadn’t looked at it once, because they both knew it wouldn’t do anything, no matter how much she pretended for Penelope’s sake that she would put it to good use.

He had taken her out for coffee on him that first day, but by the time they had got to the front of the queue, he had been doing almost all of the talking, which had become rare nowadays since he had come home from Mexico. Usually, it had been her filling the silences, because he knew in her right mind she hated the sound of static nothingness, she found it awkward and unnecessary when she could talk to anyone without thinking about it too hard.

They had got to the desk, the barista smiling up at him as he ordered his usual, before he turned to look at her as the woman serving asked her what she would like. But she wasn’t listening, she was watching out the window, nothing particularly invigorating beside a bird cleaning its feathers on top of a stop sign.

He said her name, putting his hand on her back and her head whipped around, her eyes empty as they looked up at him expectantly, “What do you want to drink?”

She blinked, waking herself from a stupor, and looked at the barista with an embarrassed expression, “Hot chocolate, please,”

And that was all she really had to say until lunch rolled around, and she excused herself to head home early. Emily smiled at her reassuringly, her eyes wary as she watched their happy-go-lucky rookie head for the elevators with a desolate look in her eyes.

Spencer hoped she would come around on her own, or maybe even be brave enough to talk to someone about the thoughts rattling around that head of hers, but she just didn’t. She stayed as silent as possible, only ever speaking when spoken to, asking Emily if she could finish off her reports at home, to which the Prentiss woman never protested.

But Spencer had had enough. He’d worried himself sick over her, and where all thoughts of how endearing and lovely and charming she was had sat in his head before, now it was all just ways he could think to make her smile again.

It was the following Tuesday by the time he braved action. She had gone home after their midday briefing, apologising to Emily with tired eyes that seemed to be growing more and more heavy by the day, like she hadn’t slept a wink in a fortnight. Which Spencer thought was entirely possible.

He pulled up to the house Penelope had not so discreetly told him was hers, definitely not because he’d asked, and definitely, definitely not breaching any human resource policies about distributing fellow workers information (meaning Spencer had almost certainly not begged Penelope for the address with those puppy eyes of his he knew could bag him anything).

The peonies in the window bays were wilting but her house was something out of a fairytale. He wasn’t sure why he was really so surprised. It screamed her, everything about it, from the toadstool post box to the little green, cast iron bench that sat in the garden, the metal forged to look like florets of ivy holding the sitter upright.

He rapped the brass knocker, the metal cold under his long fingers. Brushing invisible dirt off his shirt, he hoped she would answer as the present squirmed at his feet.

“Just a second,” He hushed, and as if she heard him, the front door swung open to reveal her bare face he hadn’t seen since he’d helped her wipe the blood from her skin in the back of the ambulance.

She looked at him with furrowed brows, before they quickly shot to the floor, to her cobbled pathway that had clicked under his shoes, and her face washed with a shock.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She crouched to her knees, a slobbery lick immediately meeting her cheek as the Spaniel rubbed his wet nose up to her ear, sniffing her unique smell, as if it was a bag of Class A’s, “I never knew you had a dog,”

“I don’t,” He replied, kneeling with her to ruffle the soft fur behind the canine’s ear, “This is Ace. He retired from the Bomb Unit a month ago and Penelope sent me his handler’s number. They said he’s the happiest dog in the world,”

“I would be too if I stopped so many people from blowing up,” She said, but before he could ask what she meant exactly by that, Ace had jumped up and attacked her entire face with kisses as if he too thought that statement was worth silencing.

And she laughed. She laughed louder than she had in days, weeks, her eyes crinkling in joy as the little pink tongue stole away her sorrow, tickled away the traces of the blood that had tainted her skin.

Spencer smiled, his eyes watching her face scrunch in a squeal, hands eventually coming up to the elderly dog’s jowls to gently push him down.

“Oh, you are the sweetest guy,” She said, and the words had him tugging at the leash to lick her all over again, “Yes you are, you’re the sweetest little guy around, huh?”

She chuckled, scratching down the mutt’s neck, and her eyes flicked back up to Spencer, who watched her with more intent than she’d realised.

“Petting and receiving affection from pets causes spikes in serotonin in our brain and reduces anxiety, did you know that?” Spencer said, Ace pushing his muzzle into the palm of her hand to prove a point.

Her smile wavered slightly, and she looked at his hazel hues that seemed to see right through her, “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been so off lately, I just can’t sleep at the moment-”

“Don’t apologise,” He cut in, though his tone was kind, and the two of them stood back up to their full height, “What happened was horrifying, even some of the longest serving agents I know would struggle seeing that,”

She scoffed, unusually pessimistic coming out of her mouth, “You wouldn’t,”

His head tilted, not quite understanding what she meant, because she hadn’t sounded cruel when she said it. Then again, he didn’t think she was actually capable of that emotion.

She looked at him, a flash of something vulnerable in her eyes, something like that day he’d held her in the hallway; too fast he almost missed it.

“You’re so brave, Spencer, you’re like invincible. I mean, you survived prison and your mom getting kidnapped and you bounced straight back to work like it was nothing. I can’t even watch a murderer die without spiralling out of control,” She huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and before he could respond on just how wrong she was, before he could tell her that that was exactly the opposite of what had happened because he had damn near changed every inch of himself in prison to stop himself from breaking, he caught her murmuring and he thought he might just have been punched all over again, “I wish I was like you,”

His jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he stepped towards her, and her head shot to him, worried she may have said the wrong thing by mentioning everything that had happened, everything Pen had specifically said was a touchy subject, and she opened her mouth to apologise.

“Do you know how unbelievably glad I am that you are nothing like me?” Spencer said, his voice bordering on furious and her fumbled for a reply, worried she had truly pissed him off.

She wouldn’t blame him for hating her. She’d always worried, until perhaps that day they’d gotten into her car and she’d driven him home, that her very essence annoyed him.

“I’m sorry-” She started, but he shook his head.

“Stop apologising,” He said, his hand reaching up to grab where her fingers tugged together nervously, his hold featherlike, his face softening when he saw her expression, “I don’t want you to be anything like me. I like you just how you are,”

She sighed, eyes doe like with emotion as she looked at him, “Really?”

He smiled, a rare and genuine smile as she seemed to glow under his words, “Yes, really.” Spencer allowed himself to enjoy the way that the twinkle returned to her expression when he smiled at her with something almost like the old Spencer in him, before he cleared his throat, “We all like you. Everyone on the team likes how you are,”

She paused, nodding to herself as if knocking herself out of a silly daze, and Ace bounced on his hind legs trying to get her attention again.

“You don’t think I’m too sensitive?” She asked, holding her palm out for the dog to nuzzle at with that wet nose of his.

Spencer shook his head, “Sensitive is good. It means you feel something. Means you feel the good things deeper too,”

Her smile was blinding, because she’d never thought of it that way before, and she looked like her old self again. Spencer wasn’t stupid enough to think she was never going to think about Bobbie again, he still thought about that first UnSub he’d tried to save. He still thought about Tobias Hankel. He thought about them all.

But he was going to make sure she never turned into him. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself if she did. He’d protect her sunlight even if it burned him to know he could never have her the way he wanted. Because she was everything good, and he was him.

She looked down at Ace, the life returning to her as she stood aside for the two of them to enter her house, “Tea?”

Yep. Spencer felt something run hot knowing she would always be out of reach. Didn’t stop him from thinking about it, though.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #Post Prison!Spencer Reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #matthew grey gubler x reader

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hoseoksluna · 3 months ago

Text

STRATEGY | jjk

pairing: yandere!jungkook x female!oc (feat. police officer!taehyung)

genre: smut; angst

rating: 18+

summary: due to his reasons, jungkook can't get close to you—but when you show your tits to him through your window, he might just teach you a lesson.

word count: 6.0k

warnings: dark content not to be romanticized — stalking, manipulation, slight gaslighting; mental states of — anger, anxiety, depression, dissociation, daddy issues. sexual content — mentions of male masturbation, dd/lg, dom/sub dynamics, discipline, the threat of punishment, use of belt, making out. other — insecurities, smoking, mentions of drugs, of parental neglect, inner child in the form of an animal.

FORMAL WARNING: jeon jungkook written in this work is a figment of my imagination and does not reflect the living person and his family.

luna's note: the first chapter of this year's first series is here. you're all gonna scream. oh my god. i worked so hard on this, i need my babies to know that. as much as i struggled with writing, this was a wild ride that i enjoyed. i'd like to give my thanks to my ruru, @tkslovechild, who fixed my mind well enough and inspired me to open the last doc of many. if it weren't for her, this fic wouldn't be alive. this chapter is a taste of what's to come. you can expect a whole lot of smut in the next one. i hope you enjoy. sending lots of kisses MWAH.

𓂃 ౨ৎ

taglist | join here: @jjk7k, @tkslovechild, @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl, @ririkookiemonster,

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Jungkook’s cigarette is wet.

The paper, encased around it, is nearly translucent enough to expose the leaves of the tobacco inside, the very tethered parts of his burning soul. The rain pelts down on him hard, brisk and icy like bullets, but its droplets soften and grow warm once they seep inside the thick, thumping vein along the column of his throat. His hair is soaked, a few of his freshly cut strands rounding over his forehead clouding his vision. Normally, he’d get one long and thorough look at you, finish his cigarette in but a few sucks and return to his car, but tonight he can’t. Neither can he afford to get sick, not when he’s studying exhausting hours deep into the night just to secure your financial well-being and freedom, but right now, despite the risk, he can’t take his eyes off of you.

You’re playing a dangerous game. As a matter of fact, you’ve always been with your flirtiness and your delicious perversion, but the boss-defeating level he finds himself to be in is not something he can handle so easily. It’s blanketed in a light layer of the possibility of his life permanently changing, and he can’t run from it. Not when he’s frozen in this speed of time while his wobbly, jelly limbs long to be in your proximity.

In any textbook image example of his romantic relationship with you suggests the very opposite of this sketch he’s being drawn into by your hand. Before all else, the charcoal pencil should’ve been in his tattooed fingers. The big bad boss should’ve been him, and you should’ve been the brave princess with her sword, small before him, but more powerful with her spirit and fearlessness, getting impaled on his dick time and time again before you conquer him, at last.

In this ashy, starless scene, you’re the boss and he’s the princess.

You’re flashing your tits at him through the window of your bedroom and he’s sporting a boner so astronomical that he couldn’t sit down inside his car even if you, yourself, asked him to. Made puppy eyes, put your palms together and rubbed them in a childish gesture, pleading him with the pout that he knows you’re very capable of doing. The pout that started this habit of his—driving up to your street, despite the fact he lives an hour away, just to ensure your safety, just to be certain that you’re well and not staining your pillow with black mascara tears.

There’s enough blackness in your heart from the wrongness and unfairness that life feeds you, and he’s decided to take the spoon and fill it with something sweet. Like attention, like protection, like your dreams and wishes fulfilled. Because he saw you as a small kitten, underfed and yet loaded with such a large burden of ill-luck that every morsel of his being just couldn’t stand to see it anymore.

He met you in a strange place at a strange time.

Jungkook wasn’t supposed to be in Gangnam that day, but one of his soon-to-be pawns in the city of Seoul unintentionally let him in on one of the underground crimes that have been going on in that district. His plan for the night was supposed to be filled with driving around Hongdae just to make sure all the girls were safe. It was Friday, the most sinful day of the week; 9:30 pm, the start of all depraved entertainment, brought out from the depths of all the dark souls of empty people. The girls needed him, but when Jungkook heard from Taehyung that the little bitches called men have been dealing drugs in the bathroom of Starfield Library, the girls had to be good and they had to wait.

The heart inside his inner child ached at the thought that the place, where he used to spend his happy days before they were gone, was getting stained by something so horrendously evil as drugs. Taehyung was putting on his police uniform as the information slipped past his lips and while Jungkook’s heart stopped, it became burdened by his secret, not so secret in reality, dream even more heavily than ever before. He no longer saw him as a pawn—truth be told, he wanted to become a police officer ever since he saw Kiki’s Delivery Service as a young boy before things got bad and having him as his best friend and a neighbor at the same time just offered a crevice of open space for his dream to come true. But Taehyung stalled… until he didn’t.

Upon seeing the look on his face, he tipped his head low, sighed, and told him to come with him. And together they drove to Gangnam up to the COEX Mall. All the while Jungkook bounced his knee and sensed a dreadful feeling slithering down his sternum for a reason he couldn’t simply figure out.

He couldn’t shake off his nervousness even as they got out and he lit up his cigarette. Taehyung told him off, reminded him that the library closes soon, and, nodding, Jungkook took two more puffs before he let the instrument of sweet death plummet to the ground. His better-knowing murmured to him that he should’ve left his heart behind, too, but being loyal to the wretched flesh, Jungkook never learned the language of his logic.

He saw you long before you saw him, going up the white keys of stairs beside Taehyung, taking two at the time. Your short limbs were reaching a shelf above your head, trembling in tension, your form elevated by the way you were standing on your tippy toes. The higher he went, the clearer his glimpse was of your thighs, embellished by a black cotton to keep them warm in the cool spring. The band digging into the flesh entranced him, trapped him to you as if by ropes of mercifulness because that was the most beautiful sight he was graced to witness. He had seen many pretty girls during his late night drives of heroism, but none of them possessed such a pure, alluring kind of beauty that made his heart tighten in his chest.

And the flesh was outright asphyxiated by the following cognizance of your full outfit.

Lifting his foot over the last step, Jungkook perceived that your thigh-high socks were held up by thin slits of garters, uncovered by the riding up of the skirt of your dress. There was no air in his lungs, no command in his brain to keep on walking after Taehyung. There was an absolute silence between the synapses as he stood there, unbreathing, his eyes skimming over the smooth skin of the back of your thighs, the well-fittedness of your short dress, which had an open back beneath the waterfall of your long hair. But it wasn’t bare, not by any chance. As if the thickness of your strands wasn’t enough, you filled the gap with a white shirt, and Jungkook was stunned.

The spell was disrupted when the books, one by one, began to fall over your head, despite the fact you succeeded in getting the one you wanted. Disrupted and not broken because while he knew Taehyung was inching closer to the crime scene, his instinct won over his stupefaction and gave the order to his legs to rush over to you. It felt natural to him, the act of grabbing your arms and pulling you flush to him, to a place of safety, although he was a stranger, a guy and he had no right to touch you like that. Anyone in his shoes would just shout at you to move away, but the spell didn’t allow his logic to filter through his actions. You gasped, nearly tumbled down to the ground along with him, but Jungkook was stronger. Jungkook didn’t let you plummet to the ground like his cigarettes—he held you steady to him, balancing you on your feet, and his heart began to ache, like it did when he heard of the drug-dealing, and age when you lifted a palm and placed it over your forehead, mewling a pained noise through your pouting mouth.

He wasn’t fast enough. An overgrown bush of overprotective roots took form in his black lungs, tangled in the long strands of your hair as you softly trembled like a kitten in his arms. He was no longer a boy, delirious with his need to color the streets with justice and safety; he was a man of fatherly compulsions, organic instincts to never let you disappear from his secure hand again. It happened that quickly—it happened that devastatingly that he himself was dumbfounded by it all.

Dumbfounded and… much to his surprise: pleased.

Jungkook didn’t cleave to love. While his heart hungered to envelop its love around that special person it wished for, he simply couldn’t conform. Couldn’t open the chambers of his heart and let out the horrors—the fights, the violence, the blood, the silent screams and the ungratified needs, left abandoned by those closest. He was afraid to allow himself to be loved; and he was afraid of being only capable of sharing the darkness in return, not his love—the small, wounded bunny hiding somewhere in him, every day concealing itself deeper and deeper. That was why he never even looked twice at the girls he saved, let alone touched them, let alone allowed them to bathe him in feelings that were pleasant.

Strange, the moment that was uncoiling. His actions and their unfolding, and his lack of carefulness and detachment.

The toppling misfortune finished its course, the dull sound of the books hitting the floor halted, and within this abrupt silence, Jungkook felt the hammering of your heart, kicking against his upper abdomen, softening him. And in spite of everything, he turned you around to examine your reddened forehead as if he weren’t Jungkook at all, but someone else. Someone healthy and full of light within his mind, heart and soul, who doesn’t create boundaries and doesn’t hiss and thump his legs back when someone crosses them. This new person eyed the pebble-sized bump poking through the skin, which wrinkled through the furrow of your brows. His lips downturned in pity for you, but he knew pressing the injury with a packet of frozen veggies would fix it by the morning. You were lost in the pushing acuteness of the pain, perhaps not even realizing that you were saved. Your set of wispy eyelashes were quivering like the rest of you and while this new person was desperate for you to look at him, it wasn’t until Taehyung called his name that you did.

But it was too late, the moment was too brief, and the old Jungkook settled over him like a layer of dust.

However, the mutual meeting of eyes kickstarted his dead heart, bringing forth life through the chambers and the vessels like a petal drifting upon the smooth surface of a river. Jungkook fought it with his old weapons, but as the seconds ticked, he became smaller and smaller, the power of the connection looming over him, scaring him and soothing him soon after by the way your eyes widened in surprise and melted right after. As if into his; as if into him.

The old and the new Jungkook began to coexist within him, closing over the bunny.

He didn’t realize he was gone and no longer holding you until Taehyung grabbed a hold of his shoulder, stopping him from colliding his fist into the small-postured drug dealer’s face, who was momentarily stuffing a plastic bag of evil into the toilet tank. It was rage that simmered between the halves of his two personas fading into each other, a yin and yang, not because the abomination was caught as is usually the cause, but because the light and the dark merged within him, bringing him out of his comfort zone into a zone he blanched in panic in.

He didn’t know that you watched the entire time. That you watched him curse at the boy, take the drug from him and nearly flush it down the toilet, if Taehyung hadn’t stopped him. He didn’t know that you’d stick around just to talk to him, had the library not closed.

And he didn’t know that he would meet you again.

And again.

At dangerous places, where you didn’t belong—like his mind when he was ceaselessly fist-fucking his cock before dawn. At safe places, where you painted the walls with your gentleness and simultaneous misfortune, your own yin and yang.

He didn’t expect you to make the first move each time, gazing up at him with a soft smile, making small talk that was more flirty than it was polite. It was hard for him to handle as the strange, fatherly and tender feelings he carried for you, belonging to the new half of him, brewed in him like loose pomegranate tea leaves. Each question you threw his way was that leaf, and the intonation you used, the curiosity, the roundness of your eyes and their constant melting was the fragrance of that fruit, cutting through him until he was nothing but a fragment of a boy in love.

He couldn’t leave. The yang of his split persona wouldn’t give the blessing to him in order for him to do that. And what’s more, he dreamed revolting dreams about shattering your heart with his fluid absence and presence, the black and white easing into one another, and it helped him stay put. He feared sleeping, he feared hurting you, and so he just abused his cock, releasing the endorphins that his body needed in order to sustain this whole newness.

And therefore like the boy he was chiseled into, he took your first moves once the time was right and undisturbed. Took them higher. Took you out for ice cream, where your flirtiness shifted both of you to this point of your love story. All because of the way you licked the sweet delight.

You swirled your tongue along its dissolving perimeter. Ivory in color, its drops dribbled down the cone, resembling the essence of his everlastingly drooling manhood that he had wasted many times prior this date, trying not to picture you in his mind. He cursed the ice cream shop as much as he blessed it for having a vanilla flavor so well-made that it rolled your eyes back during the conversation you spurred about his dreams that shone a dimmed light in his heart. He was hard, unable to speak in a steady flow, pausing between words, watching you, always watching you, enjoy your dessert while not having his own. Watching you half listen to him, half making love to the milky substance with your eyes, your focus diverting back and forth—silently gushing your gusto, silently apologizing to him with the bat of your eyelashes for not adequately paying attention. It made you adorable enough for him to fight the crawling inkling to take this an inch higher, bending you over any nearby surface away from people—because he loved the way you constantly spoke your innermost thoughts, your flirtiness especially, through the different expressions of your eyes. They spoke more profoundly than the vocabulary of your mutual mother tongue could ever achieve.

But he couldn’t follow through with his desire. His sixth sense muttered over his arousal, reminding him there was always a danger close by. By its own sinister will, it interrupted, in an excruciating staccato rhythm, the sensation of heat, pressure and energy he felt, putting it on the back burner. A place he liked to linger because it made him feel alive—the unyielding push and pull of temptation, the fight, the guilt because the fatherliness always won. But his sixth sense was right. Jungkook caught a vulgar string of words about you from the table behind him in a short moment of quietness within his brain. He turned his head to the side, listening, and when the meaning of the words multiplied with the description of you, he banged his fists and impulsively acted out, getting up to his feet.

He flipped the table. Grabbed the collar of the boy who stole his guilty pleasure and made it his own. Seethed in his sweaty face; threw words at him that made him tremble in fear until he begged to be let go. Jungkook saw a vibrant red—he didn’t see how he startled you, how all the people in the sitting area stopped whatever conversations they were having just to stare, how all the employees gulped behind the counter, but didn’t dare to step in. That was the face of his wildness, molded by all he went through, shown to you ahead of time—or perhaps at the right time. He wouldn’t know, and he was too reluctant to contemplate it.

He didn’t calm down until he made the boy apologize to you. Then, he fixed the table and put it to its original spot. Then, he made you feel better by brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, grazing his fingers down your arm until he found your hand, murmuring a soft sorry for scaring you. Then, he went to the petrified employees and apologized to them, too, for the commotion.

You also wanted to make him feel better.

Inside his car, you caressed the tense muscles of his thigh. Just once—a slow, downward motion of your palm that made him twitch. He noted the milky flakes of the dessert you had discarded dried on your lips and he hoped your eyes hadn’t strayed to his private parts—that you didn’t notice the agonized twitch of his cock that regretfully longed for you.

In this area of your relation with him, the yin won.

He put your safety above his own arousal and need, minimizing it. Grabbed the hand that had the candy-coated intention to make him feel better and kissed it in polite thankfulness, knowing your soundness that he had taken care of did the job already.

You pouted at his declination, and his heart crumbled into pomegranate seeds.

Had he known this would start off your irresistible perversion, he would’ve somehow make it so he could let you do whatever it was that you wanted to do with your hand. Because the fatherliness, which he tried with all his might to preserve in utmost purity, darkened the more you wanted him.

Darkened the more you teased him.

With your garters and your knee socks. With your short skirts that exposed the lines of your bubble butt, which he tugged down many times, his heart racing, afraid any of the horny fucks with wrong intentions walking by would see. With your innocent smiles, mischievous eyes and light touches on the places of his body that he discovered were of utter sensitivity—the crook of his elbow, into which you liked to dig your nails, the left side of his ribs, where you somehow detected his mole, his nipple that you enjoyed teasing just to watch him convulse, and his thigh, the straight pathway to his arousal. Sometimes you went higher, sometimes you went lower—and it tested his patience every single time.

All broke loose once you conveyed, with your words, how much you wanted him after some time passed.

You let him know you were hungry. It was the warmest spring evening you had in months and Jungkook was on his patrol. Seeing the text, he turned the car around and drove up to your street. Picked you up, asked you what you were craving and beside the Subway sandwich, you mentioned that you were craving him, too. As if it were the most ordinary, casual thing in the world.

He stomped on the break so hard that the vehicle behind him honked at him.

Scolded you in a fatherly way that coaxed an endearing giggle out of you. You can’t say things like that, he said, shooting you a glare that made you clench your thighs—and Jungkook wished that he hadn’t noticed.

That he hadn’t noticed being bad turned you on even more.

Then the touches were prolonged. The eye contact was intensified, the interlude of silence between you and him was boiling to such a hot temperature that he sweltered beneath his clothes in your presence, sporting a stony hard-on, which was difficult to get rid of.

And then the confessions began.

The more detailed confessions of your desire, of your liking in terms of his countenance. Of what your fingers were doing in the middle of the night because of your sentiments.

Jungkook didn’t respond. Not at first. He fought so hard to stay pure, stand behind the boundary of purity, unwilling to stain you with his own desire. He was a boy, marred by the times, with a caretaker’s heart, aged by many years, with a soul that brings death. He was afraid of what would be created, if his death mingled with your misfortune. If the bunny of his love had a glimpse of your melting eyes. If his own desire collided with yours. If he cut the ropes of his restraint and broke himself loose along with the trajectory of his untitled relationship with you.

Hell would envelop you. Hell would embrace you so tight that you’d start to despise him.

Because he wasn’t a good person. All the evil he had witnessed clung to him like second skin, peeling off of him like scales, like dirt. The evil he had consumed while living with his family; the evil he had stepped into in order to bring goodness. Jungkook would feed spoonfuls of it to you because every morsel of his being embodied it.

He said this to you, in less harmful words, upon an ordinary car drive through the night when you were starting to get jittery. It would be better if I just took care of you without touching you. He never added the fatherliness he felt towards you into the stream of his speech—he was too shy to do so. He was already flushed in the face; he worried confessing it would trouble his composure. And he needed to be a strong wall for you.

But you were a smart girl.

Devouring his words, you lifted the hem of your skirt. Your legs were still, no hint of jitteriness to them at that abrupt cusp of unraveling desire, when you parted them on the passenger seat and showed him the circle of your arousal on the center of your white panties. This is what you do to me when you talk about treating me like a father.

His blood flow halted. His heart leaped to his throat, the aroma of pomegranate filling his mouth. He edged to the border of his restraint and thought about, briefly, how he would edge you for your smartness. How he would drink the sweetness of your seashell when he would finally let you come; how it would refresh the tobacco of his soul, make him a better person, a better partner. He imagined how the smell of your arousal would linger in the car for days—how it would be a reminder that there’s goodness for him in this world while he would go on doing his job of saving it.

The black and white conclusively coalesced, creating a shade of gray that densely clouded his reasons and his morals.

And because this notion occupied his stomach with hundreds of butterflies, the decision was made. Hasty, and probably catastrophic, but he no longer cared. He fell in love with the idea of him being saved, even if it meant decorating your pretty thighs with scars. Give me some time, he said eventually. I’ll rub your scars with a healing oil, he didn’t promise.

And the detachment, which he was so inquisitive about all those months ago, nestled between you and him. The conversations, which used to be so abundant with passion and liveliness, echoed with the low tones of the trees, of the soft songs of the birds and the ringing of his mind as he completely descended into an abyss of dejection. He didn’t know why he entered this state; it just happened on its own. He no longer had the energy to save the girls of Seoul, nor did he have the strength to face you and be a man. The little life he had left—he used it to fulfill his obligations: he drove to your place after he had done his daily dose of studying and homework. Picked himself up just to make sure you were all right. And if your room lacked any light, it would motivate him enough to go into the streets and look for you.

He’d find you each time, envious and disheartened that you weren’t spending time with him. Go home and cry his colorless tears.

And now he’s here, standing underneath the foreboding downpour, in the present time after a month of idleness, in the middle of the night. His car is parked behind him, the headlights filtering through the thick shafts of rain, illuminating him. His pallid hands are bearing two things in each. A wet cigarette, a spoon that has been washed off the original poison of his life and that is now overspilling with everything nourishing. All because of your pressed-up tits against the window, the fast-paced rivulets of rain blurring the view.

You’ve yanked the time by its throat. You’re the boss and you’ve decided that all waiting is over.

He’s not sure what he’s feeling right now. If it’s absolute fury that is invigorating his system or if it’s distilled passion that is constricting his muscles so much that it’s causing him to quiver. There’s some kind of need in the heart of it all, which smudges all of his attempts at analyzing until they get swept away with the current of the rain. In this very second, there’s no ticking of danger, no deafening silence of dejection, no promise of evil. There’s only one singular thing.

The ropes are torn: he has to have you.

You did this. You cut them instead of him, and that’s all that is pulsating in his mind as he takes the last drag of his sodden cigarette and lets it plummet, lets it burn away to nothingness. His steps are heavy and his steps are furious—and you seem to know because you unpeel yourself from the coolness of the window and skip away beyond his sight. He trusts that your smartness leads you to open the main door for him, and he’s not disappointed when he reaches it and hears its ringing song, inviting him inside.

The song of fate.

You’re waiting for him between the panels of your door on the third floor, dressed in a short nightwear dress of ivory and lilac, lace and bows. Entering your presence, Jungkook is made pliable by the strong cognizance that he’s missed you. Your hair cascades in waves down your bare shoulders, the barest he’s ever seen them, nuzzling into your cleavage that advances his softness and his concurring arousal. You’re pristine and fragrant while he drips in sweat and petrichor laced with cigarette smoke, but he wants you and he wants to punish you for putting him in this position so audaciously.

And for not wearing your thigh-high socks when he wishes you were.

The furrow of his brows deepens, knitting in the middle, and once your eyes flick to it, you breathlessly gasp, those pretty thighs of yours crossing to make friction for your little pussy. It feels as though you were all naked and he’s overwhelmed, he’s furious, he’s frustrated and—

His hand presses against the middle of your clavicles and draws you inside, kicking the door shut.

He’s tender, however, despite his impulses. He’s tender as he pushes you down onto your couch, his fingers latching onto the lacy neckline. The feeling of a warm home he never had sticks to his fingertips from your skin—and it’s clearer to him now than it ever has been before: you’ve become a four-walled home for him through all the time he spent with you on innocent dates and car drives, protecting you and consoling you from the impact of your engraved misfortune. The sensation on the pads of his fingers jumps to the other ones and tingles as they wrap around the buckle of his belt, capturing the interest of your eyes that widen and very quickly and very quintessentially melt.

You see how hard he is for you.

Good.

Now you can. Now it's yours.

He swiftly tugs his belt out of the loops with one hand, bending the leather in half. Your smile rises at that, and while you rake your hand through your hair at the crown of your head and arch your cold chest into his other hand, Jungkook watches you part your legs for him. And time stops when he expects there to be a cloth of any pastel color covering your pussy and finds there to be none.

None at all.

Mustering all of his strength, he rips his gaze away. Points the belt in your face. He can’t see your little pussy, not just yet. He has to punish you first for stealing his first move for the second time around, for triggering his flight or fight response because he wasn’t ready for this—he wasn’t ready to have his control taken, for his detachment and restraint to be broken so promptly. He should’ve laid it down at your feet, having cut it himself. Then, it would've been pure; it would’ve been right.

Nothing about this is of those attributes.

This is dark, this is sinful, and you’re gonna pay for it.

“Repeat back to me what I told you the last time I saw you,” he orders, bringing your eyes back up to him as he towers over you, stinging your lips with the coolness of the wet leather, seemingly coaxing out your words. Your breath shivers at the contact, changing the temperature, mouth parting like your legs as he moves it down to your chin. You run your tongue along its bottom pillow as soon as he drags the belt down the upper of your sternum, the very place he touched with his own hand. He stops at the swell of breast right next to his fist bunching up your nightdress, the accessory lifting and falling with your short intakes of air.

The rain pelts harder against the window. You evidently mull over your answer, blinking slowly at him, dazy from it all—and it’s funny to him. He hasn’t even started, and he’s way too far away from being finished with you.

“You mean what you said to me a month ago? How am I supposed to remember?” you question, the words oozing with every particle of provocation that exists within this irredeemable world. Jungkook knows more than he knows himself that you’re bluffing and he sucks in a breath, his frustration piling up on top of his clenched muscles. His hand longs to lift and spank your visibly stiffened nipple for your smart mouth, but he holds himself back—the time isn’t right yet. He wonders if your pointed beads are still cold from the window or if he needs to suck them into his mouth to warm them up.

His cock flits. Jungkook struggles to contain his noises, growling hushedly under his breath. One corner of your mouth tugs to the side when they encompass you, producing your satisfaction, and it pisses him off even more.

His fist unclenches, letting go of your neckline. The fabric is wrinkled and stretched, ruined until the next wash, and that fact likens him to you, cooking the ingredients of satisfaction for him. Power seizes him, and therefore he stoops to your level, bending at the waist to look you straight in the face. The belt follows suit, stopping at your flushed cheek.

It wasn’t that long ago when you were mewling in pain, the same redness spreading across your forehead. Where is that meekness of yours, your girlishness, your softness? Where has his detachment gone again and why does your malleability madden him so tremendously?

His fatherliness unfurls in full glory, his need to discipline you consumes him alive.

“Watch your mouth,” he spits in undertone, patting your cheek with the belt just once. Light flashes in your eyes, a candle swished by the wind. “I know you remember well, you can’t trick me, so again I tell you. Repeat back to me my last words to you.”

And you do the most unimaginable thing, setting him on fire. Word for word, you repeat back the sentence he uttered but a half minute ago. A serious delivery, with a static contortion, camouflaging your mischief, and he becomes the image he saw in your eyes.

A tall candle, melting.

His fury and frustration should continue on. Should grip the belt hard and paint welts on the flesh of your thighs and bum. But the more your perversion radiates him, the more he loses. The bunny of his love gazes back at you from its hiding place, casting its first glimpse at you, and makes the first move to slightly exit the deep darkness.

First move; first step. Curiosity eclipses the white fur of the bunny, the white dot across the blackness of the yin half. Its wide, almond eyes are unblinking, captivated by you, by your forcefulness, stubbornness and your immaculate beauty. By the way you breathe evenly, by how unafraid you are. So full of everything adventurous, like the books you read, which fill every space of your apartment.

The animal is smitten with you. Jungkook stands outside of his own body, wondering if there’s any line at all between the grayness that has been created. If there’s any backing away from the blatantly obvious fact that he loves you.

That he can’t stay mad at you.

That his need to discipline you truly stems from his profound love for you.

“You think you’re the Daddy?” he mutters, at last, the correction of dynamics coming naturally out of him. He silences you with his question, creasing your features, and his satisfaction is a finished meal. The first bite you’ll ever have; the first spoonful. “I’ll show you who’s Daddy.”

And then he grips your throat and forces your lips to collide with his. Breathing in your skin is the first intake of fresh air he’s ever had. This is his first kiss, his first life—and when you reciprocate his kiss and submit to his feverish rhythm, it is the first warm, home-cooked meal he’s ever devoured. The sky falls and is born again, and he, too, is born anew.

You lean back, relinquished, and Jungkook straddles you, his knees making dents on either side of you upon the plush of your couch. The belt falls, his walls fall, and he has to touch you. His fingers crawl up from your ears into the garden of your hair, gripping the roots, moaning into your mouth and you respond just the same. Opening your mouth, you give him access to your tongue and your spit—and he drinks, he drinks as if it were the angelic fountain that had the expertise to cleanse him of his old life. And he lets it.

Clenches and unclenches his fingers, tangled in your hair, the symbol of his green light because he’s safe with you.

He’s safe with you.

Your hands blindly find your favorite spots on his body. They knead his thighs as he sucks on your pout, his abstained dream come true. They ascend to his clothed ribs under his jacket, lingering there, ostensibly seeking the bunny, not knowing that the animal has begun to look for the way out. Your moans gain volume and sensitivity, and Jungkook knows you can’t take it anymore.

Neither can he. He’s hard to the point of bursting.

And when he latches his mouth onto the side of your neck and your moans lighten to little mewls akin to those he missed, he doesn’t allow you to sink your nails into the last place you love on him. He pushes you face down onto the couch and grabs his discarded belt.

He’s going to make that little girl stay.

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#divider by d-oie #bangtanwhq #jungkook x oc #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #kpop smut #jungkook fic #jungkook series #jungkook x reader

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kajibunny · 10 months ago

Text

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ we're just friends! (or are we?) w/ the wind breaker boys ✧⋆⭒˚｡

✿ featuring: hajime umemiya, jo togame, haruka sakura, hayato suo, ren kaji ✿ fluff, mutual pining, hidden feelings (aaaa), suggestive for suo, a lil angst (with comfort) for kaji ✿ a/n: i guess by now everyone can tell that i’m very into the friends to lovers trope ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა~♡ it’s def my fav!!! and these wb bois are all perfect friend material, and ofc boyfriend material too! enjoy, cuties! ✿ wc: 2.3k

— you have a closely intimate friendship to the point that everyone around you thinks you two are dating, though you know you're not lovers (yet), but are definitely more than just friends.

ʚɞ umemiya

— sharing hello and goodbye kisses with each other.

ꕤ you and umemiya are the definition of 'affectionate', as your love languages both consist of physical touch. but maybe with each other, a little bit too much for just friends.

ꕤ the word "boundaries" did not exist to the both of you once you were within arm's reach of each other. you and umemiya give each other hello and goodbye hugs, sometimes cheek and forehead kisses, as a greeting, right? to be friendly. though he doesn't seem to do that as often to other people, or at all, even. just to you. only to you.

ꕤ he also loves cuddling up to you whenever he takes a nap on the rooftop, inviting you to join him in picking out some veggies that you two could make a meal together with.

ꕤ while you two were cooking together, you definitely gave off a 'married couple' vibe with the way you held the ladle up for umemiya to taste, the way he had pressed his palm to your back whenever he needed to pass through, the way he fed you with his own spoon and giggling while complimenting how delicious your cooking was, the way he wrapped his arms around you and hummed while he helped you wash the dishes. anyone who saw would have immediately bid their congratulations and would think you two are newlyweds.

ꕤ hiragi took one look at the both of you appearing all lovey-dovey, and the confusion of whether you two were dating or not made his stomach scrunch up in pain.

ꕤ umemiya calls you such adorable names when referring to you in conversation, too. his tiny bean, his ray of sunshine, his cherry blossom, it was always "his", as if you belonged to him. he was openly affectionate with you and was not afraid to show it.

ꕤ many guys also took a liking to you, but never attempted to even make a move or confess, because they were already under the assumption that you were umemiya's, seeing you two playing with each other's fingers and comparing hand sizes like you were made for each other. but how could that be, you and umemiya were just friends, weren't you?

ʚɞ suo

— you get a special seat (on his lap).

ꕤ suo just can't seem to keep his eyes and his hands off of you. you always have to be within his vicinity, or he's not sure how he'll be able to stand it.

ꕤ he sees you at the corner of his eye, after you have made your way back from the restroom. you and the other bofurin first years were at an izakaya, and the moment you returned, all of their eyes were glued to you and suo, as if they already knew something was going to ensue. you two have been friends for a long time, but the way you acted towards each other felt like you two have been lovers for a long time.

ꕤ suo was always up in your space, whether its pulling random pranks on you, inviting you to go out then paying for everything even though you tried to stop him (nothing can stop suo), visiting your home and leaving an endless supply of tea enough to last you a whole year - his excuse being it's there for whenever he comes over, and multiple instances which all prove that suo was no doubt a very clingy friend. not that you minded, anyway. you were used to suo and his antics.

ꕤ he had his ways of persuading you too (he is the master of negotiation, after all), and you just couldn't resist him, as you loved being around suo just as much.

ꕤ this time, he took advantage of your short absence and made himself comfortable in your chair, and wouldn't even move an inch. "hayato, that's my seat!" you exclaimed. "hm?" suo tilts his head. "you can just sit on my lap, then." he smiles, with that damn mischievous smile you know all too well. you tried to get him to move by gently pushing him back and forth but suo seemed to not have a care in the world.

ꕤ you can't tell whether suo is serious or joking sometimes, but nirei and sakura seems to have their doubts that you two are "just friends" as you both claim. "are you sure the two of you aren't dating?" nirei asks you. sakura blushes and lets you know his thoughts, too. "y-yeah...! you two are unusually close!" you always reply to them with an astounding "no!" but suo just laughs and does not affirm nor deny any of their claims.

ꕤ suo pulls you in close, making you sit on his lap regardless of your little outburst, and you weren't sure if it was hot in the izakaya, or if it's just you, but you certainly felt warmth overcome your body while it was pressed flush against his, his arms wrapped around your waist nonchalantly. "hayato!" you protested, trying to squirm your way out of his grasp, and pushing away all intrusive thoughts about his and your bottom halves being so close together, only separated by thin pieces of clothing.

ꕤ nirei, the most observant of the bunch (next to suo), points out that you even call suo by his first name, and that's another one of the reasons why you two seem like you're dating.

ꕤ with suo, everything seems to be a mystery. but in suo's perspective, it's all clear. he loves you, whether it's as a friend or as a lover, that's for him to know and for you to find out.

ʚɞ togame

— leaves everyone on read except you.

ꕤ togame just doesn't understand why people need to type out what they want to say, aren't calls more personalized? he didn't understand at all, until he met you.

ꕤ you were, to put it directly, a chatterbox in all forms. you loved to talk, regardless if it's chats, calls, or in person, you just yapped your heart out to him everytime, and he lives for it. he wouldn't miss a second of you opening your mouth and giving him a taste of your innermost thoughts. he absolutely adored talking to you, because it was you, and you were special to him.

ꕤ the shishitoren guys thought it was so funny and adorable whenever togame picks up his phone so quickly because he thought it was you calling, then scowls when he realizes it isn't, and immediately silences it and shoves it back in his pocket. this caused him to set a different ringtone just for you, so he could pick up on the very first ring.

ꕤ you were also the first reply he ever sent via sms, a simple "ok" to your long message talking about how you thought it was amazing that he won the town's annual eating contest for many consecutive years in a row and that you were totally ready to challenge him next year by stuffing your face with okonomiyaki and invited togame to join you and have some with you so you could keep an eye on the competition. he found your personality totally amusing, his face immediately lighting up with a gentle smile whenever you sent him messages.

ꕤ anyone who sees how happy he is while he rereads your texts over and over would interpret that as togame being totally, irrevocably, head over heels in love with you.

ꕤ he doesn't actually reply to anyone at all ever, but he wanted to share all his firsts with you, he just couldn't help it. you were captivating, witty in your words, and very very charismatic, bombarding him with the cutest and funniest messages everyday. of course, he doesn't mind at all and is always looking forward to them.

ꕤ you two stay on calls for longer than eight hours at a time talking about how each other's day went, and yet you wonder why people always think you two are dating. normal friends don't stay up until the break of dawn chattering for hours on end, expressing all the things they like about each other, do they? at least togame knows he wouldn't do it with anyone that wasn't you, as he valued his precious sleep time dearly, but as time went on, you became more precious and more dear to him than his sleep time ever could.

ʚɞ kaji

— play fighting like an old married couple.

ꕤ kaji is the type to never go down without a fight. needless to say, that also applies to you. but your fights with him were different, more banter adjacent, more affectionate and playful. only lasting for a few minutes.

ꕤ kaji had a huge soft spot for you, as even though you did irritate the heck out of him sometimes, somehow he still could not stay angry or annoyed at you for more than one second. he just couldn't resist the way you crossed your arms and huffed with your cute little frown. he thought you were the most adorable angry little thing he's ever seen and wanted to pinch your cheeks out of cuteness aggression and frustration, but he would never say it to your face.

ꕤ one time, you two had a heated argument because he said he could hear you just fine but wouldn't bother to take off his headphones. you argued that it was impolite and that you won't talk to him at all anymore if he does that again, and you two were at each other's throats, giving one another a piece of your mind, until kaji mutters a 'sorry', and you began to sob uncontrollably and let him hold you in his arms while he stroked your hair to comfort you because you two couldn't stand the intensity and tension of being angry at each other for long.

ꕤ you had your less serious fights too, like when you made him a bento box for lunch and you two had a picnic together with his vice captains. you fed him the food with your chopsticks, kaji teasing you by saying "it's bland." and you reasoning out that kaji was 'as salty as his tastebuds'. kaji then asked you if you wanted to have 'a taste of his fists', which ended up with kusumi and enomoto snickering in the background wishing that the both of you would just date each other already.

ꕤ whenever you two argued, your faces were so close to one another's that you were just a few centimeters shy from kissing, the tip of your noses touching. kaji had to hold himself back, a lot. like an insane amount. friends didn't want to kiss and make out with their friends, right? but kaji did. and you did too.

ꕤ his way of apologizing is by suddenly leaving a lollipop with you. he puts them in your bag, or places them in your pocket while you weren't looking. it was his little peace offering, one that you treasured and collected, accumulating dozens of them by your bedside table. kaji would gladly give up his last lollipop for you, and no one could argue otherwise.

ʚɞ sakura

— blushing wildly whenever you two are around each other.

ꕤ you and sakura always looked like you two were having a blushing competition. the littlest touches and the most minimal contact had both of your cheeks heating up in response.

ꕤ it was like sakura's blushing was contagious. ever since you two became good friends (if you could call it that, though it seemed to be more than that at times), being around him triggered a whole bunch of embarrassing and hilarious but sweet situations.

ꕤ you once dragged sakura off to his very first cherry blossom viewing in the park, and needless to say, with both of you being a chaotic (but cute) duo, it kind of felt like you were on a wild rollercoaster ride with him.

ꕤ you took a stolen photo of sakura while he was mesmerized by the falling pink petals. you thought he looked adorable, but sakura thought otherwise. he was a blushing mess and told you to delete them, but you said they were cute and that you were going to make it your wallpaper.

ꕤ sakura chased after you, and tripped over a stray cherry blossom branch, leaving you two in quite a suggestive position, sakura on top of you, pinning your wrist down with his hand. your cheeks were as pink as the cherry blossoms, and tried as you might, you couldn't keep your eyes off his lips. friends don't observe their friends with wanting eyes, do they?

ꕤ suo and nirei instantly noticed how huge of a klutz you were around sakura. they also noticed how curious sakura was about you, always (not so subtly) asking nirei how much he knew about you, or your likes and dislikes, then asked him not to tell you that he asked about you. but suo told you instead, because they were your biggest supporters and cheerleaders (and biggest shippers, of course) after all.

ꕤ on sakura's birthday, they made you hold the cake and surprise him, which was a huge mistake, because before it could even reach him, you slipped and fell over him. luckily, sakura had good reflexes and was able to catch you before you completely toppled over. some of the smushed cake ended up on his and your face, which you tried to wipe off as you apologized, but sakura dipped his finger onto the icing that got on your cheek and licked his finger. "t-the cake's not bad, i guess..." he looked away from your smiling face as you greeted him happy birthday in a sing-song tune.

ꕤ suo, being a menace, greeted sakura happy birthday as well as gave him a 'best wishes to the happy couple' greeting card, that sakura threw back at him like it had a virus on it.

ꕤ sakura definitely had a memorable birthday that year, but now that he thought about it, all of his memories that were memorable to him had one thing in common: you were in all of them. you, the greatest gift he could ever ask for on any and every occasion.

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mssishipi · 23 days ago

Text

taste of indulgence - sjy, pjs

CHAPTER 3 — WHY ARE YOU SO SALTY?

— This was supposed to be just sex—no feelings, no attachments. What happened in bed was meant to stay there. Jake and Jay were perfect together, an undeniably loving couple who had everything. From the very beginning, you were just a third, nothing more. So why does it feel like you’re the only one left out? Fuck, why are you salty?

content tags: fluff and fluff and angst, sunoo being annoyed at jayke for always stealing reader away from him, one kys joke, reader is falling in love, jayke being soft, don't expect romance in this chapter bcs it's angst, still they have fluff, some other people cameo (that you might be missing since chap 1).

warning: explicit content (smut), threesome (soft dom jake, soft dom jay, sub reader), but they kind of have solo moments, multiple sex position, unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, nipple play, overstimulation, cunnilingus, rimming, anal fingering, protected anal sex (fxm), attempt of double penetration, blowjob, ofc sum mxm scene. MDNI. WC:15.1K

want a taste?

notes: thank you for the 1k followers! i better not see any of you hating on my girl y/n.

So this is what it feels like.

The kind of thing your friends always gushed about—their whispers about how addicting it was, how they couldn't get enough. You never really got it. Until now. You didn't know exactly how long it had been going on. A month? Maybe more?

At some point, it became a routine, an unspoken agreement between the three of you. Sex, always sex. Even with classes, even with assignments piling up, there were moments where the three of you just couldn't help yourselves.

Your weekends are always ending up in their sheets. There were times when you swore you'd go a few days without it—focus, be responsible. But the second one of them (always Jake) pulled you close, hands roaming, lips brushing against your skin, you already knew how it would end.

Your schedules were never fully in sync. Different classes, different obligations. But somehow, you always found a way.

Because it was sex. And none of you could seem to stop.

"Shit, slow down!" Jay hissed through gritted teeth, his fingers digging into your waist in a futile attempt to slow your relentless pace. But you didn't listen, the pleasure was too consuming, and all you could do was keep moving, keep chasing that euphoric high as you bounced on top of him.

Your moans spilled freely, the sound only making Jay groan beneath you. Behind you, Jake was grinning against your shoulder, completely entertained by the display in front of him. His hands were on your breasts, kneading them, rolling your sensitive nipples between his fingers as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.

"Come on, tell him, baby," he murmured.

You gasped, your hips faltering for a brief moment before sheer need pushed you forward again, rolling, grinding against Jay in slow, deliberate circles.

You could feel how much he was holding back—the way his fingers flexed against your skin, the restraint in his muscles as he tried to keep himself from flipping you over and taking control.

Jay's brows furrowed, his lips parted as he breathed heavily beneath you. You bit your lip, eyes locked onto his as you let the words tumble out with a needy tone. "M-my p-pussy is so empty, p-please fill it up," you whined.

Jake let out a low whistle beside you. "There it is," he mused, watching the way Jay's entire demeanor shifted. His muscles tensed, his fingers twitched against your skin, and his expression darkened in the most delicious way.

Jay growled, his grip tightening before suddenly yanking you down, forcing you to take him deeper, bottoming out inside you in one swift, punishing motion. You choked on a moan, your walls spasming around him at the sudden stretch.

Jake was right—Jay loved that kind of talk.

"T-there—hah, oh my God! Ahh!" You practically screamed, your hands clawing at Jay's arms as he manhandled you, flipping you onto your back in one smooth motion.

You barely had time to process before he was already moving again, pounding into you with a force that made your head spin.

The sheets twisted beneath you, your fingers gripping the fabric for some semblance of control, but it was useless. You were completely at their mercy, exactly where they wanted you.

Jake chuckled, watching the way your body jolted with every deep thrust before settling himself beside you, propping himself up on one elbow. His mouth found your neck first, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your heated skin, trailing lower and lower until his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, sucking eagerly.

Your eyes rolled back, a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over you.

For years, you had imagined something like this.

You'd seen it in porn, fantasized about the intensity of two mouths, two cocks, hands everywhere, pleasure heightened beyond what you thought possible. You used to ache with frustration, wondering if you'd ever experience what those girls did—the kind of overwhelming, mind-numbing pleasure that left them ruined, wrecked, completely undone.

You'd sometimes cried, wondering if maybe there was something wrong with you, why no one else had ever made you feel this.

Now, you were drowning in it, every nerve in your body is alive, buzzing, and electrified with sensation. Years of frustration are now it all poured out of you, swallowed whole by them.

And God, you loved every second of it. It felt endless, like they were making up for every second of deprivation, stretching time itself just to ruin you over and over again.

Jay let out a ragged growl, his grip on your thighs tightening as his thrusts became deeper. "Shit, I'm fucking cumming."

Beside you, Jake pulled away from your nipple, his mouth swollen and glistening as he turned to Jay. Without hesitation, he grabbed the back of Jay's neck and kissed him.

You watched as their tongues slid together, swallowing each other's moans. The sight sent a fresh pulse of heat through you, a sharp ace blooming deep inside your core.

Your fingers twitched, then grasped at Jake's arm, a mindless, needy tug. Include me.

Jake felt it immediately, breaking the kiss just enough to glance at you, his lips curling into a knowing smile. "Feeling left out, baby?"

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth. His teeth grazed your lower lip before sucking it into his mouth, making you shudder.

Jay's hands slid over your stomach, his palms warm as he moved up—brushing over your ribs, cupping your breasts, kneading them firmly. His thumbs flicked over your nipples, coaxing a breathless moan from your lips as your head fell back against the pillows.

Jake pulled away just in time to see the way your body arched into Jay's touch, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

A sudden, sharp thrust pulled your focus back to Jay. Your eyes snapped open, locking onto his dark, intense gaze. His grip on your breast tightened as he drove into you with slow, full strokes.

"Say it again," Jay growled. His thrusts grew sharper, rocking your body with every movement.

A whimper slipped from your lips, your hands flying to his wrists, gripping them for balance. Your mind felt hazy, drunk on the pleasure flooding your senses.

Without thinking, your other hand drifted to Jake's cock, fingers wrapping around his length. He was so hard, twitching in your grasp. A satisfied hum rumbled from his chest as you stroked him, your fingers tightening, gliding in slow motions.

Jake exhaled a sharp breath, his head tilting back slightly. When he looked at you again, his eyes were heavy-lidded, his lips parted in a lazy, pleased smile. He guided your hand along his length, showing you exactly how he liked it.

"Come on, baby," Jake murmured, voice velvety. "Say it again, hmm?"

Your breath hitched. You hesitated for a moment, cheeks flushing, because you weren't usually the type to talk during sex. It wasn't something you were used to.

But with the way they were looking at you, waiting, and starving for it. You bit your lip, gaze flickering between them, before finally whispering:

"U-use me 'til you c-cum. F-fill me, please."

A deep groan tore from Jay's throat, while Jake hissed, his grip on your hand tightening as his cock twitched in your palm.

You were practically screaming at this point. Everything was too much, too good—you could hardly believe this was your life now, wrapped up between them, drowning in sensations you'd never thought you'd get to experience.

You could feel every inch of Jay stretching you, filling you so completely, his deep, steady thrusts hitting on your g-spot inside you over and over again.

"F-fuck, I'm gonna cum—oh, shit." Jay moaned, his head tilting back, his jaw clenching. His fingers dug into your thighs as he held you still, feeling the way your walls squeezed around him, gripping him.

Jake pulled away from your hand while Jay straightened his back, adjusting his position, his grip shifting to your legs. Without warning, he pushed them further apart, spreading you wider, sinking even deeper inside you. A ragged cry ripped from your throat, your hands flying to his forearms.

You are catching your breath until you felt a warm breath ghosting over your swollen clit.

Your stomach tightened, and your entire body jerked when you felt the first slow, deliberate flick of his tongue against your clit. Your back arched off the bed, toes curling as he licked a long, slow stripe over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Oh my God!" you gasped, your fingers fisting the sheets, your head tossing to the side.

Jake hummed against you, the vibration shooting straight through your core. "She's so sensitive," he murmured, lips brushing against your slick heat.

Jay exhaled harshly, his fingers flexing on your thighs as he fought for control. His cock twitched inside you, the added stimulation pushing him dangerously close to the edge.

"You're such a tease," Jay gritted out, his hips snapping forward, driving into you harder.

Jake just grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief as he flattened his tongue against your clit, sucking gently.

Your vision blurred, the world around you dissolving into nothing but pure, white-hot pleasure. Every muscle in your body locked up, your back arching off the bed as the orgasm crashed through you. Your walls clamped down around Jay, squeezing him so tightly that his rhythm stuttered, his breath hitching in his throat.

The sudden, hot rush of his release spilling deep inside you, filling you up completely. Jay let out a ragged groan, his fingers bruising against your thighs as he slammed himself deep one last time, grinding into you as he rode out his high.

The pleasure had hit so fast, so hard, that your body collapsed under the weight of it. Your mind went blank, your limbs limp, but before you could fully sink into the overwhelming sensation, Jake was suddenly there—moving swiftly, his hands gripping your arms, steadying you. "Whoa, baby—breathe," he murmured, His lips brushed over your temple as Jay's hips gave one last, weak thrust, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.

"Fuck," Jay exhaled, his grip finally loosening, hands sliding over your trembling thighs before he slumped forward, his forehead pressing against your shoulder.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath is shaky as you tried to steady yourself, the aftershocks still lingering in your body. Your legs trembled, muscles twitching from the overwhelming sensation that still buzzed through you.

Suddenly, Jay's nose brushed against the curve of your neck as he nuzzled closer, his body relaxing against yours. The intimate gesture sent a soft, unexpected warmth blooming in your chest. While Jake's fingers lacing with yours, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand.

"You're okay?" Jake's voice was softer than usual, his fingers traced idle patterns on your wrist.

You blinked up at him, your mind still sluggish. You felt too much all at once—the lingering warmth of their bodies pressed against yours, the way Jay's breath ghosted over your skin and the soft ache between your thighs. And there was something else that is more deeper and unsettling.

They always did these small, tender touches that shouldn't mean anything, yet somehow felt like they did.

Of course, you liked it, but in the back of your mind, it was too much, too good like a dream you'd eventually have to wake up from.

"Shower?" Jay offered, you blinked up at him before glancing at Jake, who was still hard. He caught your gaze, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips before he leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your mouth.

"It's okay," he murmured against your lips. "I'm sure you're tired already."

Tired? That was an understatement. Still, you hesitated, looking between the two of them because the thought of just leaving him like that made your chest tight.

You swallowed, "I can still..."

Jake huffed out a soft laugh, cutting you off with another kiss, this one slower, more indulgent, and when he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours.

"Not tonight, baby," he murmured, his fingers trailing lightly down your arm. "You'll be sore enough as it is."

He wasn't wrong. You could already feel the dull ache settling into your muscles.

Jay shifted beside you, sitting up, rubbing a hand over his face before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder. "Come on," he murmured. "Let's get you cleaned up."

You exhaled shakily, allowing Jay to pull you up. Jake stretched, letting out a low groan before reluctantly rolling off the bed.

As Jay led you toward the bathroom, you cast one last glance at Jake, watching as he lazily stroked himself, smirking as he caught you staring.

"Go on," he teased, "I'll take care of myself."

Jay scooped you up, carrying you toward the bathroom. Your body felt weightless in his arms as the exhaustion settling deep in your bones.

The shower was already running, steam curling into the air. Instead of stepping directly under the spray, Jay lowered you into the bathtub, letting the warm water lap at your skin. The moment you sank into it, your body melted further, muscles loosening as the heat surrounded you.

You exhaled, head resting back against the tub's edge, eyes fluttering shut. The water rose higher, enveloping you completely, and for a moment, it felt like you could drift off right then and there.

Jake followed after not too long, he stepped into the tub behind you, his legs bracketing yours as he pulled you back against his chest.

Jay was still outside the tub, kneeling beside it. His hands dipped into the water, fingers skimming along your legs before reaching for the soap. The way he lathered it in his hands was deliberate, slow, before he started gliding his palms over your arms, your shoulders—so gentle, so careful.

Jake hummed against your ear, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. "Relax," he murmured, his hands moving to rest on your waist beneath the water. "Just let us take care of you."

The intimacy of it all was overwhelming. This was new, too new. It wasn't just the sex, it was everything that came after. It was the quiet moments, it was the way they touched you, cared for you.

And you were just now realizing how dangerously comfortable you were becoming with it.

Without thinking, you shifted, turning into Jake's embrace. Your arms slid around his torso, pressing yourself against him, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. Feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Jake stilled for a second, as if caught off guard. Then, slowly, he let out a soft exhale, his arms tightening around you. His chin rested against the top of your head, fingers tracing along your back beneath the water.

A quiet understanding passed between Jay and Jake as their eyes met over your shoulder. Jay's lips twitched into a soft smile before he reached forward, his palm smoothing over your back, working the tension from your muscles as he poured warm water down your spine.

The sensation made you hum in response, your body sinking further into Jake's hold, lulled by the quiet care surrounding you.

The three of you slipped into the lecture hall, noticeably late. You kept your head down, fingers fumbling to smooth your hair as you hurried toward your usual seat while Jay and Jake trailed behind you.

Sunoo huffed the moment you slid into the chair beside him. With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, he snatched up the things he'd left on the seat that is clearly meant to reserve it for you.

"Seriously?" he muttered under his breath, shoving his notebook into his bag.

Before you could respond, Jake tugged at the hem of your uniform, leaning in. "Hey, there are three open seats at the back," he murmured, nodding toward the empty row.

You glanced between him and Sunoo, lips parting slightly in hesitation. Sunoo tsked, shifting in his chair dramatically as if to make a point.

You gave Jake a small, apologetic smile before turning back to face the front. He exhaled through his nose, but didn't push it. Jay, as usual, said nothing, simply sliding into the seat behind you.

The lecture dragged on, your mind only half-focused as you felt the occasional tap of Jake's pen against the back of your chair. When class finally ended, Sunoo wasted no time, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the open field outside.

The two of you had spent too much time here during your vacant periods—lying on the grass, complaining about classes, escaping from whatever responsibilities you didn't feel like dealing with.

Sunoo sat down first with a grunt, motioning for you to join him. As soon as you did, he reached out, fixing the slightly crooked knot of your necktie with a pout.

"You're spending way too much time with them," he muttered. You opened your mouth to argue, but Sunoo was already pouting dramatically, arms crossed over his chest.

"Am I not your favorite gay best friend anymore?" he whined, tilting his head with exaggerated sadness.

A laugh bubbled from your lips despite yourself. "You're being ridiculous," you teased, nudging his leg with your knee.

"I'm being neglected," he insisted, flopping back onto the grass. "I'm being abandoned. Replaced."

"You are so dramatic."

Sunoo huffed, turning his head to squint at you. "Seriously, though. You've been with them nonstop lately. I get it, okay? They're hot and good at—" He made a vague gesture with his hands. "—stuff. But what about me? We used to be inseparable."

Your smile faltered slightly. You knew Sunoo wasn't actually mad, but there was something genuine beneath his usual theatrics.

"I know," you admitted, lowering your gaze. "It's just... different with them. I don't know how to explain it."

Sunoo propped himself up on his elbows. "Try me."

You hesitated because how could you put it into words?

Sunoo watched your expression carefully, then sighed. "Look, I just don't want you getting hurt. They're... well..." Sunoo stop what he was about to say, you just looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

Sunoo softened. "I'm not saying stop. Just... don't lose yourself in it, okay?"

You swallowed, feeling an odd tightness in your chest. "I won't," you promised.

Sunoo stared at you for another second before sighing and sitting up fully. Then, with a sly grin, he poked your cheek. "Now, tell me the dirty details. Who's better?"

"Sunoo!"

"What? Best friends share everything!"

You told yourself it wasn't a big deal.

Whatever you were feeling—it was just because this was new, unfamiliar. You weren't used to it yet, that's all. It wasn't something deeper.

Just go with the flow.

Besides, Sunoo hugged you all the time, kissed your hair, looped his arm through yours without a second thought. Affection didn't have to mean anything complicated.

These past few days, you'd been keeping a little distance, limiting how much time you spent with them. Not because you didn't want to be around them, but because you didn't want to get used to this feeling.

And, you didn't want Sunoo to think you were replacing him. He was your best friend—your super best friend, as he liked to remind you. No one could ever take his place.

"Let's go! We're going to Burger King!" Sunoo declared, tugging your arm dramatically.

You barely had a second to react before Jake's arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you against his chest. A startled squeal left your lips as your feet nearly lifted off the ground.

"She already said yes when I asked her for shawarma," Jake argued, his grip tightening, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke.

You twisted between them, eyes flicking back and forth. Sunoo glared at Jake and Jake smirked at Sunoo.

Sunoo narrowed his eyes, gripping your arm tighter. "Shawarma? Seriously? That's so basic. She's getting a burger."

Jake scoffed, his arms still locked around your waist. "She literally loves shawarma. And, unlike you, I asked first."

"Oh, so now we're keeping track of who asks first?" Sunoo shot back, voice dripping with mockery. "That's cute, Jake. Real cute."

You groaned, twisting between them. "Guys—"

"Nope." Sunoo cut you off, yanking you toward him. "Burger."

Jake pulled you right back against his chest. "Shawarma."

Jay sighed, barely looking up from his phone as your body jerked between Jake and Sunoo's relentless tug-of-war.

"She's coming with us!" Jake huffed, tightening his grip on your waist.

Sunoo scoffed, yanking your arm in the opposite direction. "Excuse me?! I had her first!"

Jake let out a mocking gasp. "Oh, so now we're keeping track of who had her first?" He stuck his tongue out at Sunoo.

Sunoo placed a hand over his chest. "We are super best friends! Inseparable! Back in high school, everyone said we were like a total package. Where I go, she goes."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Dude, you sound like a clingy ex."

Sunoo gasped, absolutely scandalized. "I do not—"

Before he could finish, Jay suddenly reached out, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you toward him.

"Enough," he muttered, slipping his phone into his pocket. He started walking, his fingers laced through yours to keep you from being stolen again.

"Wha—? Where are you taking her?!" Sunoo yelped.

Jay didn't even glance back. "Away from you two idiots."

Jake let out a low whistle, crossing his arms. "Damn. Kinda hot."

Sunoo scowled. "You would say that."

Meanwhile, your brain short-circuited as you stared down at Jay's hand in yours, warmth spreading from your fingertips all the way up to your face. Jake and Sunoo trailed after you, still bickering over who got to walk beside you, tugging at your sleeves and elbowing each other like children.

Jay let out a sharp exhale, clearly losing patience. Without a word, he shifted his grip, draping an arm firmly around your shoulders and pulling you flush against his side.

Sunoo cross his arms and huffed dramatically. "This is favoritism."

Jay shot them both a deadpan look. "Shut up."

In the end, none of the arguing mattered. The four of you ended up crammed into a booth at a Chinese restaurant, chopsticks clinking against bowls as you all shared food between bites of conversation.

Sunoo still sulked. Jake kept stealing food from your plate. And Jay, despite his earlier scowl, just kept filling your bowl with more dumplings.

The weekend arrived, and Jay had texted, asking you to hang out. At the same time, Sunoo and Wonyoung had invited you to go figure skating.

Torn between the two, you decided to make the most of your day, texting Jay that you'd come by in the evening, not wanting to miss out on time with your friends.

By the time you stepped out of the taxi in front of Jay's apartment, your legs were sore and aching, exhaustion creeping into your muscles from hours on the ice. You barely had time to lift your hand to knock before the door swung open.

Jake stood there, his eyes instantly lighting up at the sight of you. His sweet smile stretched wide before he reached forward, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you inside.

"Finally," he breathed, his grip warm and firm as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

A giggle escaped your lips as he pressed a trail of playful, affectionate kisses along your jaw, down to your neck. Your stomach fluttered—there it was again, that strange, uncontrollable feeling. The way your heart pounded just a little too hard.

"Missed you, missed you," Jake whined softly, his cheek brushing against yours as he held you impossibly closer.

You laughed, shaking your head as your fingers absentmindedly traced patterns against Jake's back. "We literally ate at the Chinese restaurant three days ago," you reminded him.

Jake only whined in response, rocking the both of you side to side like a sulking child. He lifted his head, lower lip jutted out in the most exaggerated pout, eyes big and pleading.

"Yeah, but Sunoo was there," he complained, brows furrowing. "I wanna spend more time with you—just me, you, and Jay."

His words sent a strange little jolt through you, warm curling in your stomach.

"You didn't even text that much today," he muttered, his pout deepening.

You laughed, shaking your head. "I was with Sunoo and Wonyoung, you know that."

Jake huffed dramatically. "Still. I need my daily dose of you."

His words sent another jolt through you, curling around your ribs like a slow-burning ember. You tried to play it off, focusing on how ridiculously cute he looked instead of the way your pulse picked up speed.

"You're such a baby," you teased, reaching up to pinch his cheeks between your fingers. His skin was warm under your touch, and when he scrunched his nose in response, it only made your heart pound harder.

"Am not," he grumbled, though he made no effort to pull away. If anything, he leaned into your touch. His eyes flickered over your face, studying you for a second before his lips curled into a grin. "But if I were a baby, I'd be your favorite, right?"

Before you could answer, a voice cut through the moment. "You're blocking the door," Jay said flatly, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed, watching the two of you.

Jake didn't let go immediately. Instead, he smirked and tightened his arms around you one last time, swaying you both dramatically before finally pulling back. "She's mine for the next hour," Jake announced proudly.

Jay rolled his eyes. "You literally saw her three days ago."

"And it felt like years," Jake shot back, dragging you toward the living room.

The movie flickered on the screen, but it had long since become nothing more than background noise. You and Jake were supposed to be watching it together—Jay had opted out, choosing to focus on his classwork instead, not wanting to procrastinate. But somewhere along the way, Jake's hand had found its way to your thigh, stroking absently as if he wasn't really thinking about it.

At first, it was innocent. Just a casual touch. But then his fingers started moving, kneading softly, tracing small circles against your skin, his fingertips creeping higher with each pass.

Your breath caught. You shifted slightly, adjusting your position, but your legs instinctively parted. You didn't even realize you were doing it until Jake let out a quiet chuckle.

"Look at that," he murmured, his fingers ghosting over your clothed heat. "Already opening up for me?"

Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, body sinking into the couch as he teased you. The touch was light, barely there, but enough to set a slow burn deep in your stomach.

His fingers pressed down, rubbing slow, lazy circles through the fabric of your shorts. Your breath came out in a shaky exhale, hips lifting ever so slightly, chasing more friction.

"You're so warm," he mused, his voice dipping lower, more hushed. "And already so wet."

You nodded weakly, your thoughts scattering as his fingers slipped under the waistband of your shorts, brushing against your bare skin. A quiet moan slipped past your lips.

"You know," you breathed between soft gasps, "I still can't believe I'm experiencing this."

Jake hummed, his lips trailing along the side of your neck. "Oh? And why's that?"

Your fingers twitched against the couch, gripping the fabric as he slid a finger between your folds. The touch was electric, sending pleasure zipping up your spine.

"I never really enjoyed sex before," you said, gasping when he pressed against your clit just right. "It's... shocking, I guess. That you and Jay just know exactly how to—fuck—please me."

Jake smirked, his lips curling against your skin. "Mmm, keep talking, baby," he whispered.

Your breath hitched as his fingers moved with deliberate skill, teasing and stroking in just the right way. Your thighs trembled, your body completely pliant under his touch.

"I-it's like—oh, shit, shit, right there, Jake—it's like my body just picked only the two of you."

Jake groaned, his fingers pressed deeper, circling with the perfect amount of pressure. He pulled back just enough to look at you. "Damn right it did," he murmured. "Your body will only listen to us."

Jake shifted his position, settling more comfortably between your legs. His free hand tugged at the hem of your shirt, pushing it up to your collarbone, baring your chest to the cool air.

You didn't wait, you unclasped your bra in a rush. Jake's lips curled into a smirk, his breath warm against your skin.

"You like it more when your left breast gets attention, don't you?" His voice was teasing, but he didn't wait for an answer.

The second his mouth latched onto your left mound, a whimper tore from your throat. His tongue flicked over the sensitive peak, lips closing around it as he sucked just hard enough to make your back arch off the couch.

"Hah—fuck, Jake," you moaned, your back arching off the couch as his fingers pumped deeper.

Jake chuckled against your flushed skin. "Jay was right," he murmured, pulling back just enough to blow cool air over your wet nipple, making it pebble even harder. His fingers didn't slow between your legs, pressing deep, curling just right. "You always react more when we do this."

To prove his point, he dragged his teeth lightly over the stiff peak, making you jolt, a breathless gasp escaping your lips. Then, his mouth closed around it again, sucking hard enough to make your toes curl. His free hand found your other breast, rolling and pinching your neglected nipple between his fingers, the combination of sensations making your head spin.

Your body was melting under his touch, too sensitive. Every flick of his tongue, every slow, deliberate stroke of his fingers inside you. It was too much and not enough all at once.

Your hands flew to his hair, gripping at the soft strands, trying to anchor yourself as you rocked against his hand. The wet sounds of his fingers moving in and out of you mixed with the low hum of pleasure vibrating from his throat.

"Jake—Jake, I'm—" You barely managed to get the words out. You could feel it, that familiar, intoxicating build-up, your walls clenching tight around his fingers.

Jake groaned, feeling the way you squeezed him. "Oh, you love that, don't you?" he mused. "Knowing we talk about you? Knowing we know exactly what makes you fall apart?"

His words sent a new wave of arousal crashing through you. The idea of Jay and Jake discussing you like this, learning every single detail of your body, what you liked, what drove you insane—it made your core throb even harder.

Jake pulled back to look at you, lips swollen, pupils blown wide with lust. He didn't stop, fingers pressing deeper, fucking into you at a steady, teasing pace. "Bet you'd love to hear what else we say about you, huh?" he murmured, grinning as he watched your breath hitch.

Jake pushed himself up, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

"We would love to fuck that ass."

A raw moan spilling from your lips, your grip on his hair tightened as your body tensed. A rush of heat pooled in your stomach, pleasure snapping so fast and sharp that your hips bucked against his hand, thighs shaking as your orgasm crashed over you.

"Oh my God, Jake!" you gasped, clenching hard around his fingers, your body twitching, desperate to hold onto the overwhelming pleasure for just a little longer.

Jake groaned, his free hand smoothing over your thigh, gripping it possessively as he worked you through your high. "Woah, that's it." he murmured. "Came so fast just from that, huh? You love the idea, don't you?"

You swallowed, still catching your breath, your body limp against the couch. Jake pulled his fingers from you slowly, watching the way your slick coated them, shining in the dim light.

He brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a hum of satisfaction. "Fuck," he sighed, grinning as he met your dazed, fucked-out gaze.

"Y-You're going to f-fuck my butt?"

Jake's grin widened, his cock twitching inside his pajama pants at how wrecked you sounded. Instead of answering right away, he leaned in, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to your lips.

"Only if you want to," he murmured.

You didn't even hesitate, eyes wide and desperate when you looked at him. "I want to."

Jake inhaled sharply, his grip on your thigh tightening for a second before he let out a low chuckle. "Fuck, yeah."

His cock throbbed at just the thought, but he forced himself to pull back, exhaling through his nose to keep control.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up first." Jake scooped you up, carrying you toward the bathroom on the first floor. The moment he set you down, he was already moving, grabbing the necessary supplies, turning on the faucet, letting warm water fill the sink.

You sat on the closed toilet seat, face already burning in embarrassment as you watched him prepare. "I can do it myself, you know."

Jake only smirked, kneeling in front of you. "I know, but where's the fun in that?"

A whimper lodged in your throat when he gently guided you to stand, then turned you to face the counter. His hands slid down your waist, his touch is careful as he spread your ass apart, exposing both your soaked cunt and your tight, clenching hole.

You let out a choked sound, immediately covering your face with your hands.

Jake chuckled at your reaction, pressing a warm, open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder. "Don't be shy, baby," he murmured, "I'm gonna eat this later, you know."

Your breath hitched, fingers gripping the edge of the counter, anticipation coiling in your stomach despite the embarrassment flooding your face.

Then the douche touched your hole. You sucked in a sharp breath, instinctively tensing, but Jake was already there, his lips trailing soft kisses along your shoulder, his free hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back.

"Relax," he cooed, his voice low and patient. "Anus muscles are naturally good at sucking, so don't worry about the water coming in. It won't feel as weird as you think."

Jake squeezed your hip reassuringly before continuing, "I'm gonna let the water stay inside for a few seconds. It'll feel uncomfortable, but it's totally bearable, okay?"

You exhaled shakily, nodding, trusting him completely.

Jake smiled against your skin, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Good girl."

Your body shuddered at his praise, the tension in your shoulders melting ever so slightly. Jake kept his hand steady on your back, his fingers tracing light patterns to keep you relaxed as he slowly let the water flow in.

A strange pressure built inside you, foreign and mildly uncomfortable, but not unbearable. You whined softly, shifting on your feet, and Jake leaned in, his lips brushing your ear.

"Breathe through it," he murmured, "just a few more seconds, baby."

You focused on his touch, on the slow rise and fall of his chest against your back. When he finally let the water out, a strange relief washed over you, making you sigh.

"See? Not so bad, huh?" Jake grinned, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.

You nodded, still feeling a bit shy about the whole process. "It's... weird."

Jake chuckled, squeezing your waist. "Yeah, first time always is. But you're doing so good for me."

His words made your stomach flutter. It was stupid, the way something as simple as that made warmth spread through your chest.

"One more time, okay?" Jake said. "Then you'll be all clean for us."

Your breath caught in your throat at the implication—for us.

"I'll be the first, alright? Get you nice and used to it."

You whimpered at his words, thighs pressing together as heat surged through you. Jake chuckled, noticing your reaction.

"Then, when you're ready," he continued, "we'll take you together."

A gasp left your lips as he nipped at your ear. "I'll be in your pussy, stretching you open while Jay fills up this tight little hole."

Your knees nearly buckled, a whine escaping you as you pressed your forehead against the cool tile. The images flashing through your mind—Jake stretching you open, Jay filling you from behind. It felt surreal, like stepping into one of your deepest, filthiest fantasies. The kind you'd only ever dreamed about. But this was real. This was happening.

Your pussy clenched involuntarily, already aching for more.

Once he finished helping you clean up, you turned to face him, hands gripping his shoulders as you pulled him down into a heated kiss. It wasn't soft or slow, it was desperate and needy. Your hands roamed his chest, nails dragging lightly over his skin as his tongue slid against yours.

Jake's hands found their way to your ass, gripping firmly as he hoisted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, locking him in place as your lips remained fused in a messy, heated kiss.

He carried you effortlessly up the stairs, his fingers kneading your flesh. You barely registered the moment when he pushed the bedroom door open, until you caught sight of Jay.

Jay was seated at his desk, head tilted slightly downward, pen gliding across the pages of his binder notebook. The only acknowledgment he gave was a brief sigh as he adjusted the volume of his headset, as if this was nothing new to him.

You swallowed, glancing at Jay's back, hesitating. "I think we're going to disturb him," you murmured quietly.

Jake only laughed, his fingers teasing along the curve of your waist. "Ignore him," he whispered, "We're going to have so much fun."

His hands traveled upward, kneading your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples. "All fours, baby. Arch your back."

Without thinking, you obeyed. Your knees pressed into the mattress, hands sinking into the sheets as you positioned yourself. You peeked over your shoulder, stealing another glance at Jay. He was still writing, pen moving in smooth, deliberate strokes, seemingly unaffected.

"He's not going to join?" you asked.

Jake smirked, running a hand down your spine, pressing at the small of your back to deepen the arch. "Patience," he murmured. "You know how Jay is. He'll join us later."

Jake reached for the drawer beside the bed, pulling out a bottle of lube. Both of you were already bare against the sheets, Jake wasted no time positioning himself behind you, his hands spreading your ass apart as he dipped his head down.

The first swipe of his tongue over your soaked folds made you gasp, your fingers curling into the sheets. "Fuck," he groaned, voice muffled against your skin. "Always so sweet."

Your eyes fluttered shut as you let yourself sink into the sensation, a breathy sigh slipping past your lips as you rocked back against his mouth.

Jake tilted his head, pressing his tongue deeper, swirling it inside you before dragging it back up. Then, he started kissing your pussy—deep, wet kisses, his tongue flicking against your clit before sliding up again.

A quiet moan escaped you, but even through the haze of pleasure, you were still aware of Jay sitting at his desk just a few feet away. You bit your lip, trying to stifle the sounds threatening to spill out, not wanting to disturb him. Even though, really, what you were doing behind him was distracting enough.

"I'm going to eat this little ass, okay?" Jake murmured. Your breath hitched, his hands smoothed over your back, a silent reassurance. "Hey, relax," he soothed, pressing a kiss to the base of your spine.

The moment his tongue flicked against your other hole, a sharp whimper tore from your lips. Your grip on the sheets tightened as your body jolted at the unfamiliar sensation. It was strange, but the way Jake's free hand slid between your legs to rub slow, deliberate circles over your clit sent waves of pleasure crashing over the discomfort.

And when Jake's tongue breached your hole, a sharp, uncontrollable moan ripped from your throat. The sensation was nothing like you had expected. It was hot, wet, and utterly overwhelming.

Jake let out a low laugh. "Didn't expect to like it this much, huh?" he teased before delivering a sharp slap to your pussy. You yelped, your hips jerking at the sudden sting, only for the warmth of his tongue to soothe it a moment later.

He moved effortlessly between your holes, one moment pressing into your ass, the next licking a slow, filthy stripe down to your dripping cunt. He groaned against you, savoring the way your body practically fed him, his tongue eagerly lapping up everything.

You turned your head, eyes seeking out Jay, still hunched over his notebook, pen moving steadily across the page as if nothing was happening behind him. The sight made you feel frustrated, a desperate whine escaping your lips.

"J-Jay..." you whimpered, arching your back even more, hoping and begging for him to at least look.

Jake chuckled against your skin, his tongue flicking over your clit before he pulled back, lips glistening. "Aww, baby wants his attention?" he teased, pressing a soft kiss to your butt cheeks.

Your fingers twisted into the sheets, body trembling as Jake's hand came down to knead your ass. "Don't worry," he murmured. "He'll break soon. He always does."

"For now, pay attention to me, hmm?" His voice was so as his hands gliding over your skin . "I'm going to insert a finger. Okay?"

You took a deep breath, and Jake pressed another kiss to your lower back. "Breathe for me, there you go," he murmured as his slicked-up finger traced the tight ring of muscle, teasing but not pushing in just yet.

You whined softly, your body instinctively tensing again. Jake immediately noticed and stopped, pressing more soft kisses against your skin. "I won't rush you," he reassured, his tone filled with patience. "Just focus on how good it feels, okay?"

He flattened his tongue against your entrance again, massaging the sensitive skin with slow licks, easing you into the sensation. It was strange and unfamiliar—but paired with his mouth, it felt... good. Slowly, your muscles began to relax, your body responding to his careful attention.

Only when he felt you melt against him did he ease his finger inside, pushing in barely an inch before stopping. "Still good, baby?" he asked, pausing to gauge your reaction.

You let out a shaky breath, nodding against the sheets. "Y-Yeah... feels weird, but... good."

Jake grinned, "good girl. You're doing so well."

Behind you, Jay finally let out a quiet sigh, the sound barely audible over your heavy breathing. You turned your head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of him. Though he was still pretending to focus on his notebook, the way he gripped his pen a little too tightly told you everything.

Jake's fingers pressed deeper, slick with lube, stretching you open with slow, careful movements. His cock twitched at the sight of your arched back, the way your ass framed the tight ring of muscle he was working open. He exhaled harshly through his nose, visibly restraining himself from rushing, from giving in to his own desperation.

"You're doing so good, baby," he murmured. Your breath hitched when he added another finger, scissoring you open, teasing the tight heat. It felt strange, but Jake was patient, never pushing too far.

When he was sure you were as ready as you could be, he pulled away slightly, fumbling with the condom, his hands unsteady. He sheathed himself quickly, then positioned himself behind you, his chest pressing flush against your back as he kissed your shoulder.

"I'll go slow," he whispered, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other guided himself to your entrance.

The first press of his cock made you whimper. Jake immediately hushed you, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"Relax, baby," he soothed, his hands moving to cup your breasts, kneading them gently. "Breathe for me, nice and slow."

Despite his best efforts to take it easy, you could hear his breath hitch, feel his thighs tremble as he pushed forward inch by inch. He was trying—really trying—not to just snap his hips forward and bury himself fully inside you.

Behind you, the scrape of a chair echoed through the room, followed by the shift of the mattress. You felt Jay's presence right beside you. When you turned your head, you found him sitting on the bed, jaw tight, eyes locked onto the place where Jake was slowly stretching you open.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Jake groaned, his voice almost breaking. "Feels so fucking good, baby—ahh—"

Before he could move any further, Jay's voice cut through. "Don't move yet."

Jake let out a frustrated curse, gripping your waist tightly as he stilled. "I know, fuck—I know," he muttered, jaw clenched, his cock twitching inside you.

Jay didn't say anything else. Instead, he grabbed the lube from the nightstand and squirted more onto Jake's length. Then, just as carefully, he guided Jake's hips forward, ensuring the stretch remained slow.

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your ear. "Breathe," he murmured, his hand trailing down between your legs, fingers finding your clit.

The added pleasure made you exhale sharply, your body slowly easing up. Jake took that moment to push the rest of the way in, finally bottoming out with a deep, shuddering groan.

The fullness was something—a different kind of stretch, a different kind of sensation than you were used to. You felt so completely stuffed, and the burn slowly morphing into something else.

Jay shifted beneath you, adjusting his position so that your legs straddled him, his broad frame supporting your weight as he reached between your bodies. His fingers returned to your clit, circling it. The moment his mouth latched onto your breast, sucking and teasing the sensitive bud, you let out a helpless moan, your body trembling between the two of them.

Jake took that moment to start moving. Slowly at first, rolling his hips forward, pressing himself deeper inch by inch. A strangled gasp tore from your throat as you felt every bit of him stretching you in a way that had you teetering between pleasure and overwhelming sensation.

"Ha—so good," Jake groaned, as he felt the way your body clenched around him. "Your ass is so fucking tight. I could stay buried in here forever—ahh, fuck—"

Your hands scrambled for something to hold onto, fingers digging into Jay's shoulders as you struggled to ground yourself. The pressure between your legs from Jay's touch only intensified everything, sending you spiraling faster than you expected.

Jake picked up his pace, his hips snapping forward in deep thrusts. Each movement pushed you further onto Jay's waiting tongue and fingers, the dual stimulation making your mind go hazy.

You whimpered, your breath coming out in sharp, desperate gasps. "Kiss—please," you begged, eyes glossy, lips parted in a plea.

Jay wasted no time. His lips crashed against yours, swallowing your moans as his hand worked faster between your legs, matching the rhythm of Jake's thrusts.

You were already overwhelmed, but you still wanted more. Needed more.

Your hands moved blindly, fumbling with the waistband of Jay's shorts, tugging at the fabric in desperation. Jake smirked behind you, his thrusts slowing slightly as he turned your head to steal another kiss.

Jay let out a deep breathe, standing just enough to push down his shorts and boxers, his hard length springing free. He palmed himself lazily, watching the way your body rocked between them.

You broke the kiss with Jake, your gaze immediately dropping to Jay's aching arousal. "Want you too, please," you whined, voice shaky as your hands are reaching for him.

Jay inhaled sharply, his jaw clenching. "Yeah?" he murmured, dragging the tip of his cock along your soaked folds, teasing your clit, your body twitching at the light, agonizing touch. You keep nodding your head desperately.

"Fuck," he muttered, his fingers gripping his dick tight as he forced himself to hold back. "Not yet. Maybe next time... we need your body to get used to this first."

Your heart dropped, "b-but..." your voice wavered, disappointment crashing into you.

Jake stilled behind you, his hands soothing over your hips. "Shh, don't cry, baby," he murmured, pressing soft kisses along your shoulder, but the tears were already slipping down your cheeks.

Jay cursed under his breath, wiping a stray tear with his thumb. "You're too fucking cute when you get like this," he sighed. "We're just taking our time,"

You hiccupped a breath, nodding, even as your body still ached for more.

Jake's grip tightened on your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrusts. His pace grew frantic and desperate, losing himself in the way your body clenched around him.

Your moans grew louder, mixing with his gasps, your legs shaking violently. Your muscles gave out, and the two of you collapsed onto Jay beneath you.

"Shit—!" Jay cursed as your weight pressed down on him, but his hand never left your dripping cunt. His fingers slipped inside, one, then two—stretching you open, curling it together with Jake's thrust inside your ass.

A scream ripped from your throat, back arching as the sudden intrusion sent you into an orgasm with no build-up. Your vision blurred, your body convulsing between them, the pleasure hitting so hard that it almost hurt.

"I'm cumming, oh fuck — I'm cumming!" Jake groaned, his hips stuttering as he spilled into the condom, his grip on your waist loosening as the last waves of pleasure wracked through him.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, just the sound of your ragged breaths mixing together. Then, slowly, Jake shifted, carefully pulling out of you with a soft, "Fuck, that was..." He trailed off, still catching his breath.

He rolled onto his side, tugging you with him, pressing a lazy, satisfied kiss to your temple. His lips curved into a smirk as he leaned over, stealing a slow kiss from Jay before turning back to you, brushing his knuckles against your flushed cheek.

"Tired?" Jay murmured, watching as your eyes fluttered shut. You managed a small hum in response, body sinking into the mattress, completely drained.

Normally, the three of you could go for hours, pushing past exhaustion until you were nothing but a boneless, overstimulated mess. But this time, it felt different. Deeper. More intense.

A warm hand smoothed down your spine. You didn't know whose it was—Jay or Jake—but it didn't matter. The heat of their bodies surrounded you, and within seconds, you slipped into unconsciousness.

Jake drifted off almost instantly, his breath evening out as he buried his face against your shoulder, one arm draped lazily over your waist. His soft snores filled the quiet room, his grip on you instinctive even in sleep.

Jay propped up on one elbow, let out a quiet exhale, glancing between the two of you. For a moment longer, he just watched the rise and fall of your chest, the way Jake's fingers twitched in his sleep, and the peaceful expression on your face. Then, with a sigh, he reached over, pulling the blanket over the both of you before turning onto his back.

You woke up suddenly, an odd sense of emptiness settling in your chest, and you don't even know why. The bed felt lighter, and the steady warmth that should have been there was missing.

Jake's loud, unbothered snores vibrated against your neck, his arm still draped lazily around your waist. You groaned softly, shifting carefully to pry yourself from his grip. He mumbled something incoherent in his sleep, but didn't wake as you finally slipped free.

Sitting up, you glanced around the dark room. Jay wasn't there.

Frowning, you grabbed one of Jake's oversized shirts from the floor and pulled it over your head, the hem falling mid-thigh. The air was cooler outside the warmth of the blankets as you quietly padded out of the room.

Descending the stairs, you caught the faint flicker of light coming from the living room. The low hum of a guitar solo played softly in the background, the screen illuminating Jay's face as he lounged on the couch, a half-empty beer bottle resting against his thigh.

"Why aren't you in bed?" you murmured, your voice thick with sleep. God, you sounded so clingy. But you couldn't help it. The bed felt too empty without him.

Jay's gaze flickered to you as he took another slow sip of his beer before replying, "Trying to make myself sleep."

You hummed in response, rubbing your eyes as you shuffled closer, the oversized shirt slipping off one shoulder. Without hesitation, you sank onto the couch beside him, tucking your legs beneath you.

"What can I do to help?" you asked softly, eyes still heavy.

"Just gonna finish this," Jay replied, his eyes fixed on the TV in front of him. You let out a quiet yawn, your foot tapping idly against the floor as you waited.

"Go back upstairs," Jay murmured, still not looking at you. "I'll be up soon."

You shook your head, stubborn even in your drowsiness. Instead of leaving, you shifted closer, leaning against him, resting your head against his shoulder. He stiffened slightly, his whole body going still as he felt your breath warm against his neck.

"Why are you so awkward?" you mumbled, "we have sex, like, all the time, and there's still this... barrier."

Jay didn't answer. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out—words you would never dare say if you were fully awake.

"Do you hate me?"

You weren't even sure why you said it. Maybe it was the way he always seemed just a little more distant than Jake. Maybe it was the fact that, even after all this time, you still couldn't quite read him the way you wanted to.

Jay finally let out a slow breath, placing his beer down on the table. Then, he turned his head slightly, just enough for his lips to brush against the top of your head.

"You're an idiot," he muttered. But his hand found yours, fingers lacing together with yours, squeezing softly. "How could I ever hate you?"

"Dunno," you mumbled, melting into the his touch. His arm wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you just a little closer. Even through your drowsiness, you felt that familiar tingling sensation spreading through your chest.

Jay exhaled, tilting his head back against the couch. "I'm just... feeling guilty."

Your brows furrowed slightly, your cheek still pressed against his shoulder. "About what?"

He hesitated, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "I feel like I never really got the chance to properly apologize," he admitted. "For how I treated you in the beginning... and for your throat."

A small smile tugged at your lips. "My throat is fine," you murmured, nuzzling even closer.

Jay scoffed softly, his fingers tightening slightly around yours. "Still... sorry," he muttered.

You hummed in response, barely awake now, the warmth of his body lulling you further into relaxation. A comfortable silence settled between you before you mumbled, "Am not gonna take Jake away from you, y'know."

Jay stiffened slightly. "You're still thinking I'm jealous of you?"

You smiled, shifting against him. "Maybe? Either way, I like you both around me."

His grip on your hand loosened, and when you peeked up at him, his expression were hesitant, like he wasn't sure how to respond. But then, his lips quirked up, and he patted your head. "Yeah?"

"Mhm," you mumbled sleepily. "And I like it when you're rough... Be like that always, please."

Jay exhaled sharply, eyes darkening just a fraction. You let out a louder yawn, completely unaware of how your words were affecting him. "And I miss having your cock in my mouth."

Jay groaned, tilting his head back against the couch. "You really have no filter when you're sleepy, do you?"

You giggled against his chest. "Nope."

He let out a slow, deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face. "Go to sleep before you say something that makes me do something stupid."

"Wouldn't mind that either..." You hummed again, but instead of settling down, you shifted, pressing your face into his lap, your lips grazing over the outline of his hardening cock.

Jay sucked in a sharp breath. "You're not even listening to me, are you?"

"Mm-mm," you hummed playfully, tugging at the waistband of his shorts.

His cock was already half-hard, twitching slightly as you pressed a soft, teasing kiss to the tip over the fabric.

Jay sucked in a sharp breath, his grip on your hair tightening, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail just slightly as he felt your warm mouth envelop the head of his cock. "Careful," he warned.

You hummed, the vibration making him groan low in his throat. Despite your sleepiness, your tongue flicked over his tip, lapping at the precum that had gathered there before slowly taking more of him into your mouth.

"Shit," he exhaled, his free hand gripping the couch cushion beside him. You were still half-asleep, barely aware of how needy and pliant you were being, and that made it so much worse for him.

Jay tugged at your hair gently, forcing you to look up at him. Your half-lidded eyes were glassy with sleep, your lips already glistening with spit. He cursed under his breath, brushing his thumb along your cheek.

"You're really something else, you know that?" he muttered. You only blinked up at him, Jay let out a slow breath, he guided your mouth back down, pushing his hips forward just enough for you to take him deeper.

"Since you miss it so much," he murmured, his thumb brushing against the corner of your lips, "I'll make sure you don't forget how full your mouth can get."

He moved your head with his hand, setting the pace for you. His hips rocked forward in slow, shallow thrusts, careful not to push too deep. But you whined softly, taking control, swallowing more of him down.

Jay cursed, his abs tensing as he tried to hold back. The blowjob was sloppy—messy, lazy. You weren't focused, lost somewhere between sleep and need, your hands barely gripping his thighs for support. So he did it for you, controlling the movement, his fingers guiding your head as his cock disappeared between your lips over and over again.

His breathing grew heavier, his stomach clenching. "I'll be finishing soon," he whispered.

"Jay?"

Jay's head snapped up.

Jake stood at the staircase, wearing only his pajama bottoms, his hair messy from sleep, rubbing at his eyes as he yawned. His expression was still half-asleep, but he was clearly taking in the sight of you between Jay's legs.

Jay exhaled through his nose. "God, both of you are so needy."

Jake dropped onto the couch beside him, slumping slightly. He looked down at you, his fingers brushing through the strands of your hair that is falling. On a normal night, Jake would be on your back, pressing into you, fucking you together. But tonight was different. You were all just barely holding onto consciousness.

Jay turned his head as Jake leaned in, lips brushing over the curve of his jaw, then trailing down his neck. Jay's hand slid over Jake's waist, pulling him in as their mouths met in an unhurried kiss.

Jake hummed against him, fingers tracing lazy circles over Jay's chest, flicking over his nipple. Jay let out a breathy chuckle. "You're barely awake."

Jake smiled sleepily, nuzzling against Jay's neck. "And yet I still found you guys." He glanced down at you. "C'mon, babe, let him finish so we can all go back to bed."

You hummed softly in response, your mouth still wrapped around Jay, tongue swirling lazily over his length.

Your pace was slow, but it didn't matter, Jay was already on edge, his hips twitching as he fought the urge to thrust into your mouth fully. He could feel Jake beside him, the way his fingers flicker his nipples.

Jake's other hand moved lower, brushing over your shoulder before slipping beneath Jay's shirt, his palm pressing flat against his stomach.

Jay's breath hitched. "Shit," he muttered. He could barely focus anymore, the wet heat of your mouth, and the teasing touch of Jake's hands. It was too much all at once.

Jay pushed your head down further, his cock hitting the back of your throat as he came, his body tensing beneath Jake's touch. He held you there for a moment, his breath coming out in harsh, uneven pants before finally releasing his grip, letting you pull back.

You swallowed, licking your lips sleepily as you looked up at him.

"Good?" you murmured. "Can we sleep now?"

Jay let out a breathless chuckle, still caught in the aftershocks of his orgasm. His hand found your hair, stroking it in slowly.

"Yeah," he muttered, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Come on, let's go."

Jake yawned beside you, stretching his arms over his head before reaching for you, guiding you up onto your shaky legs. The three of you stumbled up the stairs, still half-asleep, and Jay's hands instinctively settled on your lower backs, guiding you forward.

Once you reached the bed, you collapsed onto the mattress without a second thought. Jay lay on his back, his chest beneath your cheek, while Jake curled up behind you, one arm lazily draped over your waist.

As your eyelids fluttered shut, one last thought flickered through your hazy mind.

This felt nice. Too nice.

And God forbid, you were starting to need it.

If your 18-year-old self could see you now, she'd probably laugh in your face. She'd roll her eyes, scoff, and tell you to get a grip, that liking two guys at the same time wasn't a big deal, that you were being dramatic. Maybe she'd even tell you to kill yourself for overthinking it. Because back then, emotions were easy to dismiss. Love wasn't something you spent time analyzing; it was either there, or it wasn't.

Now you were 22, caught in something you didn't even have a name for. A situationship? Friends with benefits? Whatever it was, it consumed you.

The longer you were with them, the more you realized how easily you had settled into this dynamic. You had become comfortable—too comfortable. The way you sought them out, the way you melted under their touches, the way you craved them when they weren't around. It wasn't just physical neediness anymore. You liked them. Both of them. Romantically.

But you told yourself to just go with the flow.

People fell in love with their friends all the time, didn't they? And most of them survived it.

Besides, you were lucky. The two people you liked not only wanted you around, but they treated you well. They welcomed you into their arms without hesitation. And on top of that, the three of you had the best sex imaginable. It felt like an advantage.

And it was enough.

"What shade do I get?" You asked, your arms wrapped around Jake's as you stood in front of the display of matte lipsticks. Your fingers skimmed over the rows of colors, indecisive.

Jake tilted his head, studying them before picking one up and swiping it across his wrist.

"Are you sure you want this brand?" he asked, rubbing the spot with his thumb. "It feels kinda sticky."

"Because it's a super stay," you explained. "I tried it once when I was sucking you off, and it didn't even smudge."

Jake's eyes lit up instantly, his mouth parting slightly before he turned back to the display.

"Really?" He grabbed a few more shades without hesitation, tossing them into your basket. "I think you should get all of these."

You laughed, watching as Jake eagerly tossed more lipsticks into your basket. "You just want an excuse to see me test them out, don't you?"

Jake smirked, unbothered by how obvious he was. "Of course. I wanna know which one looks the best when you're on your knees."

Heat crawled up your neck, and you playfully smacked his arm. "Pervert."

"And yet you love it," he teased, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek.

Before you could retort, another voice joined in. "What are you two up to now?"

You turned to see Jay approaching, a cup of iced coffee in hand. He arched a brow at the sight of the basket full of lipsticks before looking at you expectantly.

"She's getting new lipstick," Jake answered for you, grinning. "Ones that don't smudge, even when she's—"

You slapped a hand over his mouth before he could finish that sentence. "Shut up!" you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one overheard.

Jay's eyes flickered with amusement, sipping his coffee slowly. "I see. So, should I assume you're going to be testing them out on us later?"

You groaned, hiding your face behind your hands. "I hate both of you."

It was enough, really.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you glanced at the elevator mirror, taking in the reflection of the three of you. Jay stood in the middle, arms weighed down with shopping bags that you and Jake had gleefully filled. Jake leaned against the mirrored wall with a lazy grin, one hand in his pocket, the other draped over your shoulder.

It felt really nice, having them both around.

"D-Don't ruin my hair, please!" you moaned. "I need to attend some birthday party—ahh!"

Your dress was bunched up around your waist, panties tugged to the side, leaving you open and exposed as Jay thrust into you from behind.

"You should've thought about that before teasing me all day," Jay growled.

"I knew getting ready here was a bad idea," you whimpered, fingers scrambling against the bathroom sink for support. Your reflection in the mirror was a mess, flushed skin, glazed eyes, lips parted as moans spilled out despite your best efforts to stay quiet. And to make things worse, Jake was right there, watching.

His shorts were already pulled down just enough, one hand lazily stroking himself as he leaned against the counter. He looked amused, completely unbothered by the fact that Jay was fucking you senseless only a few feet away.

Jay caught his gaze and smirked. "Jake. Shut her up."

Jake moved immediately, stepping in front of you, palming your jaw before tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

"You're gonna ruin my makeu—mmph!"

Your protest was cut short as Jake pressed his cock past your lips, groaning as the warmth of your mouth engulfed him. He didn't waste time, thrusting shallowly, forcing you to take him deeper.

"Don't talk when your mouth is full." Jake chuckled, brushing stray strands of hair from your face.

Jay adjusted his grip on your hips, making sure you were positioned just right between them before snapping his hips forward, hitting deeper. You moaned helplessly around Jake's cock, eyes rolling back.

In the end, you were late to the party.

"What the fuck? The call time was 7:00, and it's already 8:30!" Sunoo huffed, his sharp eyes narrowing as he grabbed your face, tilting it side to side. "And your mascara is a disaster. Were you crying or just getting absolutely wrecked?"

You blinked at him innocently while he pulled out a makeup wipe, trying to salvage the mess.

"Traffic," you exhaled, barely suppressing a smirk.

Sunoo rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might get stuck that way. "Yeah, traffic on Jay's and Jake's dicks, maybe."

You ignore him, instead you spotted Sunghoon in the crowd and immediately beelined toward him, pushing up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"Happy birthday!" you chirped, grinning.

With finals finally over, the weight of the semester lifted from your shoulders. You and Sunoo jumped up and down in pure excitement, squealing like kids on Christmas morning as you rattled off ideas for how to spend your break.

"I have enough savings to travel abroad! You said you wanted to go to Spain, right?" you gushed, practically bouncing on your feet.

Sunoo gasped dramatically, gripping your shoulders. "Are we actually doing this?! Oh my God, imagine us drinking sangria in Barcelona, living our best lives!"

The two of you shrieked in unison, drawing a few odd glances from passing students, but neither of you cared. The rush of post-finals freedom was intoxicating.

"Maybe I should ask Jay and Jake if they want to come," you mused, pulling out your phone.

Sunoo's jaw dropped. "What?! I mean, Jake is fun to be around, but I don't want to hear any of your sex noises while we're sightseeing!"

You scoffed, shoving his shoulder. "We wouldn't do that with you around! I have self-respect, you know!"

Sunoo gave you a deadpan stare. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that." You rolled your eyes, ignoring him as he pulled out his phone. "Anyway, where are they? Their exams finished before ours, and I literally texted in the group chat that we're getting samgyup."

He started typing furiously, muttering under his breath. Then, suddenly, he froze. "Oh?" Sunoo blinked at his screen. "Wait. It's their anniversary today?"

Your brows furrowed. "What?" You peeked over his shoulder at his phone.

There, on his feed, was a post from a user named Ni-ki, someone Sunoo was mutuals with. The caption read: Happy four years to my parents <3

Your stomach twisted. A cold sensation washed over you, like someone had dumped ice water over your head.

Four years. Four years of them. Of course, before you, before any of this—there was just the two of them. It was so obvious, wasn't it? Relationships were meant for two people.

You swallowed down the sudden lump in your throat and forced a smile, pretending like it didn't bother you. "Let's just go eat samgyup, just the two of us," you told Sunoo, keeping your tone light. "They're probably celebrating."

Sunoo studied your face, eyes narrowing slightly, but he didn't press. He simply nodded. "Sure."

The rest of the evening, you tried. You tried to be present while grilling meat, while sipping soju, while joking with Sunoo. You tried to enjoy the post-exam freedom, to let yourself have fun while shopping.

But every few minutes, your fingers would twitch toward your phone. You'd glance at the screen, waiting for a message. A text. Something.

Nothing. Your chest ached, you exhaled sharply, shoving your phone into your pocket as you turned back to the skincare aisle in front of you. Focus.

It was normal. They were a couple. They needed their own time, their own space. You were just a third person. A fun little addition. Someone to spice things up in bed.

It was enough. Wasn't it?

The air was crisp when you arrived at Jay's apartment, adjusting your jacket as you stood outside the door. When it finally swung open, Jake was there, a warm grin on his face.

"Hey, baby. Cold out?" he teased, pulling you inside before you could answer. His arms wrapped around you immediately. The scent of his cologne mixed with the faint aroma of whatever Jay was cooking in the kitchen.

"What's your plan for Christmas?" he asked, voice light as he led you inside.

You shrugged, barely thinking about it. "Not sure yet."

Jay glanced up from the kitchen, raising a brow. "No family trip this year?"

"Probably not. I might just...stay around here."

Jake's grin widened. "Good. Then you can spend it with us."

You let them pull you in. You cooked together, the three of you moving seamlessly in the kitchen. Jake stole bites of the food while Jay smacked his hand away, muttering curses under his breath. You laughed, pressing into both of them, soaking in the easy comfort of their presence.

Later, a movie played in the background while the three of you curled up together on the couch. Jake was the first to initiate the making out, his lips finding yours, his hands skimming your waist. Normally, you'd melt into him.

But tonight... Something felt off. You weren't in the mood. You excused yourself quickly, heading to the bathroom, pressing a hand against your abdomen as you shut the door behind you.

Breathe. A dull pain throbbed low in your stomach, the kind that made your body feel sluggish. Right, that explained it. You were on your period.

When you stepped back into the living room, both of them looked up.

"Everything okay?" Jake asked, brow furrowing slightly.

You nodded, chewing on the inside of your cheek. "I'm just...on my period."

Jay stood immediately, already reaching for his wallet. "Do you need pads? Tampons?"

You blinked. "Uh...yeah. Pads, please."

Without hesitation, he grabbed his keys and left. You stared at the door even after he was gone. Why does he have to be so fucking perfect?

There was no sex that night. Instead, the three of you played board games. Jay made you a hot chocolate, murmuring that it might help with the cramps. Jake pulled you into his lap during the game, rubbing your back absentmindedly.

It should've felt nice. And it did. But at dinner, as Jay and Jake stood in the kitchen, bickering over a recipe, laughter spilling between them, you watched them, your fingers tightening around the edge of the table.

You smiled, ignoring the dull ache in your chest.

Because they were perfect together.

Because they had always been perfect together.

And yet, for some reason, you felt like you were ruining things between them. A third presence in something that had already been whole. You weren't meant to be here—not really.

Why did it hurt?

You scoffed at yourself, shaking your head. It's the period hormones, you reasoned. That's all. That's why your emotions were all over the place. That's why everything stung more than it should.

Just go with the flow.

You'd been telling yourself that for months. That it was enough. But then... why were you acting like this?

The three of you were outside now, the winter air biting at your cheeks as Jake built a snowman. His breath puffed out in small clouds as he packed snow together, his energy as endless as ever.

"We should enroll together for the next semester! Maybe we can be classmates!" Jake chirped, glancing up at you with a grin.

You let out a soft laugh, exhaling into the cold. "Yeah, maybe." But your voice lacked its usual excitement.

Jay stepped beside him, pulling Jake's scarf up higher, adjusting his gloves with careful hands. Jake giggled, shaking his head playfully to mess up Jay's hair in return.

Jay leaned in, kissing him softly. You looked away immediately, biting your lip. Scolded yourself for feeling that ache again.

It wasn't jealousy. It wasn't. But why did your chest feel so fucking tight?

You let out a slow breath, forcing a smile as Jake turned back to his snowman. The snow crunched beneath your boots as you shifted on your feet, rubbing your gloved hands together for warmth.

Just go with the flow.

You're overthinking again. But even as you tried to swallow down the tightness in your chest, it remained lingering.

"Hey."

You blinked, snapping back to reality when Jay called for you. He had stepped away from Jake, his dark eyes searching yours.

"Yeah?" You hoped your voice sounded normal.

Jay studied you for a second longer before shaking his head slightly. "You okay?"

"Of course," you answered too quickly, but he didn't look convinced.

Your stomach twisted, and for a brief second, you wondered if you should just say it. Say what had been weighing on you. But what would even be the point? They are happy.

"You just look... off."

You laughed, waving him off. "I have cramps. That's all." That part wasn't a lie.

"Want me to buy you something for it?"

Your heart clenched, even though it was a simple, kind offer. You shook your head. "No, I'll be fine."

Jay's stare lingered for a second longer, like he didn't fully believe you, but he didn't push. Instead, he reached out, ruffling your hair before walking back toward Jake, who was still messing with the snowman's face.

The two of them laughed over something, their voices mixing into the winter air. You crossed your arms over your chest, forcing your gaze to the sky. You shouldn't feel like this.

You shouldn't feel like the outsider.

The more you lingered in these feelings, the more salty you became. The bitterness wasn't so easy to swallow anymore.

It crept into the way you spoke, the way you moved around them, the way your smile felt just a little too forced when Jake clung to Jay like he was his whole world.

And maybe he was. Maybe they were each other's whole world, and you were just a guest in it.

By day three of Christmas break, they asked you to hang out again. And honestly, why?

Your period meant no sex, no fun. So why did they still want you here?

That was what annoyed you the most. Because now, without sex to distract you, you were seeing them for what they really were. A couple. The way they moved around each other, the way their bodies fit so effortlessly together it wasn't just about lust. It was real. And it was in front of your own fucking eyes.

Jake, as always, was in Jay's lap.

The movie played, but you weren't really paying attention. Instead, all you could focus on was Jake's soft giggles, the absentminded way Jay's fingers skimmed over his arm.

They were whispering, laughing, caught up in their own world.

"I can't hear the movie." Your voice was tight, teeth clenched so hard your jaw ached.

They both stilled, turning to you with wide eyes.

"Sorry," Jake mumbled, shrinking back slightly. A moment later, he moved toward you, arms reaching to pull you into their space, like he always did, but you leaned away.

The rejection was small, but it might as well have been a gunshot. Jake's hands hesitated mid-air before he let them drop.

"Forget it," you sighed, standing up. "I'm going to bed."

"You're sleeping over?" Jake asked, confused.

"Is that a problem?" Your voice came out sharper than intended, and Jake immediately shut his mouth, exchanging a glance with Jay.

You didn't wait for a response. Instead, you made your way to Jay's room, shutting the door behind you a little harder than necessary.

"I think it's the period," Jake mumbled, gaze fixed on the staircase. "I've never been with a girl before, but the guys on the soccer team always complain about their girlfriends getting moody when they're on it."

Jay didn't answer. Instead, he leaned back against the couch, staring at the flickering images on the screen, lips pressed in a thin line, because he knew exactly what it was.

And if he was right, things were only going to get more complicated.

You pretended to be asleep when you felt the bed shift.

Jake's arms carefully adjusted around you, pulling you closer as he sighed against your hair. On the other side, Jay moved in, his arm draping over your waist, fitting seamlessly between you and Jake.

You stayed still, breathing evenly, willing your body to relax even though your mind was wide awake.

But you couldn't sleep, the weight of their arms was suffocating.

By the time their breathing evened out, soft snores filling the space, you slowly peeled yourself away. Jake stirred slightly, but didn't wake. Neither did Jay. Quietly, you reached for your bag, slipping into your winter coat and boots.

And then, without looking back, you walked out.

The cold bit at your skin the second you stepped outside. The streets were nearly empty, save for the occasional flicker of headlights in the distance. The only place open at this hour was a small K-Mart, its neon sign buzzing weakly against the night sky.

You stepped inside, the warm air hitting your face as you walked straight to the ramen aisle. Jin ramen, tteokbokki, enoki rolls—your hands moved on autopilot, gathering ingredients.

But when you stopped, staring blankly at the boiling water in the store's self-service kitchen, you felt it again.

That unbearable weight in your chest. Your lips quivered. Not from the cold, but from the pressure threatening to spill over. Why did it have to be like this?

You squeezed your eyes shut, swallowing hard. The sound of the store's entrance sliding open barely registered in your mind. Footsteps shuffled against the linoleum floor, followed by the sound of complaining.

"Why did the only open K-Mart have to be this far? God, I'm freezing—grr. Fuck your ramen addiction, really."

A familiar voice. Your head snapped up, meeting her gaze.

Heeseung's girlfriend blinked at you, a polite smile forming on her lips until she actually saw your face.

And then, before you could stop it—before you could pretend—your tears fell.

Her face immediately softened, she just pulled you into her arms, tucking your head against her chest. Her hands rubbed slow, comforting circles against your back, her body shielding you from the curious eyes of the late-night shoppers.

"Shit, you're really crying," she muttered, not unkindly.

You let out a shaky breath, gripping the fabric of her coat. Heeseung appeared beside the two of you, his eyes widening slightly at the sight. He exchanged a glance with his girlfriend, but to his credit, he didn't say anything.

Instead, he reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a pack of tissues, and wordlessly held it out to you.

The three of you sat in silence, eating your ramen. Heeseung and his girlfriend didn't ask why you had been crying, didn't pry or push for an explanation. Instead, Heeseung kept the conversation light, cracking goofy jokes that forced small chuckles out of you, helping ease the tightness in your chest.

After finishing your meal, they drove you back to your dorm. As you stepped out of the car, Heeseung waved lazily, and his girlfriend leaned over to press a kiss to your cheek, smirking as she teased, "If you ever need a distraction, I'd be happy to be between your legs any day."

You managed a laugh, shaking your head as you muttered, "I'll keep that in mind."

But as soon as you closed the door behind you, the ache in your chest returned.

Avoidance was the only thing you could do now.

Sunoo sat cross-legged on your bed, finalizing the ticket purchase for Spain. You had only brought up the idea of a trip yesterday, and now he had a flight booked for tomorrow morning, jokingly humming some song about being a backburner.

Of course, you felt guilty.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, sitting beside him. "I know I've been all over the place."

Sunoo barely looked up from his phone. "Yeah, yeah, you always apologize," he sighed dramatically. Then, he shot you a pointed look. "But this time, you better focus on me, okay?"

Your phone buzzed on the bed beside you. A string of messages from Jay and Jake.

— Where did you go last night? — Why didn't you wake us up? — Are you okay? — Talk to us.

You hesitated before typing a short reply: Sorry for being weird. I was just in a bad mood. I'll be gone for a while, going on a trip with Sunoo.

You didn't wait for their response before silencing your notifications.

Spain was beautiful. Sunoo dragged you through every tourist spot, every café, every club he could find. You drank, laughed, danced until your feet hurt, flirted with strangers just to feel something different. But no matter how much fun you had, no matter how many distractions Sunoo shoved in front of you, the ache never really went away.

Sometimes, in the middle of a conversation, you would catch yourself zoning out, your mind slipping back to them. Wondering if they missed you.

By the time you returned home, enrollment for the second semester had already begun. Sunoo still had no clue about your tangled-up feelings, and you had done your best to keep it that way. Meanwhile, Jay and Jake had stopped flooding your messages, the once-active group chat now reduced to occasional TikTok links exchanged between Sunoo and Jake.

"We should try to get into the same classes again," Sunoo chirped, pulling you out of your thoughts as you both walked toward campus. "I swear to God, if you abandon me for someone else again, I'm—"

He cut himself off when you suddenly stopped in your tracks.

Because just a few feet away, by the enrollment booths, stood Jay and Jake.

Jake's eyes lit up the moment he saw you, his signature wide grin stretching across his face. Before you could react, he was already pulling you into a tight hug, his familiar scent of clean laundry and something subtly musky wrapped around you.

"You're back!" he chirped excitedly, rocking you slightly in his embrace.

You stiffened. Your hands hovered awkwardly over his back, unsure whether to push him away or let yourself melt into the comfort of his touch.

Sunoo, however, had no such hesitation. With an exaggerated huff, he reached forward and pinched Jake's waist.

"Hey! You're trying to steal my girl again!" Sunoo scolded.

Jake only laughed, sticking his tongue out playfully as he tightened his hold on you. "Not stealing, just borrowing." He turned his head, his lips brushing close to your ear. "You ignored us for so long. You didn't even bring us back a souvenir."

"Sorry," you mumbled, forcing a small smile. "It was... a last-minute trip."

Jake pulled back slightly, still holding onto your wrists, his eyes scanning your face. Jay, on the other hand, remained silent. Unlike Jake, he didn't rush forward to greet you. He stood a step behind, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. He was observing you.

Trying to break the tension, you shifted your attention back to Jake, forcing yourself to engage in conversation. "So, uh... how was break for you guys?"

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but Jay beat him to it.

"You tell us," Jay said. "You're the one who disappeared."

"I—I just needed some space," you said quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Things were just... a lot."

"A lot," Jay repeated slowly, tilting his head. His gaze flickered over you, assessing, before settling back on your face. "And now?"

"Now?" you echoed, caught off guard.

"Are you still needing space?"

There was an underlying challenge in his words. Like he was daring you to say yes. You hesitated, you should say yes. That would be the smart thing to do. The right thing. You had spent the entire trip convincing yourself that distance was what you needed.

But standing here, with Jake still holding onto you and Jay pinning you down with his gaze, you realized, you didn't actually want space. You just wanted them, but you couldn't say that.

So instead, you forced a weak chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. "I mean... I'm here now, aren't I?"

Jake beamed, satisfied with your answer. "That means we're celebrating! Let's go out tonight."

Sunoo let out an exaggerated shriek, eyes widening in disbelief. "Excuse me?!" He placed a hand over his chest, looking personally offended by the sudden plan.

Jake only laughed, completely unfazed. "Of course you’re coming!" He slung an arm around Sunoo’s shoulders, giving him a playful shake.

Sunoo scoffed dramatically, swatting at his arm. "You act like I want to go. But fine, whatever." He shot you a sideways glance, eyes sharp, knowing. "If she wants to go, we’ll go."

And so, you went. The four of you ended up at a new restaurant, one that Jake had been eager to try. But the moment you sat down, regret settled in your bones.

You tried to act normal, laughing when Jake cracked a joke, nodding along when Jay spoke, but you couldn’t hold it together. Your fingers fidgeted endlessly with the edge of your sleeve, your mind drifting too far. You weren’t present. Not really.

Sunoo noticed halfway through dinner, he leaned in slightly. "Maybe we should go."

You didn’t hesitate. "Yeah. Let’s go."

And now, you were crying again.

In the car. On the drive home. Wherever. It didn’t even matter anymore. Sunoo sighed, pulling you close, his arms wrapping around you in a careful hold. "Hey, hey, it’s okay," he murmured, his palm rubbing slow circles against your back, trying to soothe you. But there was an edge of panic in his voice because he didn’t know. He didn’t know why you were crying.

And you couldn’t tell him, because admitting it would make it real.

You could only remember what he had told you before. "Don’t lose yourself."

But you had, you had lost yourself the moment you started falling for them.

It was sad. And stupid. And kind of funny in a cruel way. Funny how easily you fell. Funny how, in the beginning, you kept telling yourself that this was enough. But it wasn’t.

And now, you regretted everything, because it only made your feelings stronger.

You thought you could handle it. You thought you could play it cool, stay casual. But you couldn’t. You didn’t. You were pathetic—because you let yourself believe you could be this comfortable, that you could exist between them without falling apart.

But you weren’t comfortable. You weren’t okay.

The only space they made for you was in their bed, not in their love.

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enha smut #jay x reader #jake x reader #jay smut #jake smut #enhypen x reader #jay x jake

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moonlight-prose · 9 months ago

Text

HEART MADE OF GLASS

a/n: this is totally not to make myself feel better. totally not self indulgent cause i couldn't finish cooking my dinner last night. that gif is also self indulgent. but also hopefully a distraction from how angsty this kind of is. divider as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics.

summary: you couldn't control when they could come. the waves of nothingness - of battling with your body and mind in the hopes it would cause a shift. you wanted to control it. he simply wanted to help.

word count: 1.1k

pairing: logan howlett x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, disassociating, depression isn't outright stated but that's what it is, meat eating (sorry i'm an iron anemic bitch), logan's love language being acts of service.

The fire alarm never went off when you were in the kitchen. So he felt his heart jump at the sound of it blaring through the small apartment. Even down the hall and in the bathroom he smelled the bitter smoke as it rose from the pan you were currently staring at. A blank expression on your face and hand gripping the handle.

He meant to grab his flannel and join you for dinner. What he didn't expect was the emptiness of a silent kitchen not filled with your usual music. Your soft hums as you try to keep in tune with the song.

Logan's favorite pastime was standing in the doorway watching you cook whatever creation came to mind. Whether it tasted good or positively vile, he'd eat it one way or another. He'd swallow happily with a grin simply to see that smile bloom across your face. A look he did everything possible to keep right where it was meant to be.

"Bub?"

You startled, flinching at the sound of the alarm as you shoved the pan away from the burner. "Shit. Sorry."

A frown etched onto his face at your quick apology—your eyes never quite meeting him. "Everythin' okay?"

"Yeah," you said, lying right through your teeth. "I just got distracted."

Logan could hear the bullshit louder than the alarm. He knew something was wrong, because he'd seen it before. The silence that filled a once loud household. How you slowed down during the day, unable to finish simple tasks without pushing yourself over the edge. He watched you dwindle down to the barest bones your body had to offer and yet you never asked him for help.

You never explained why it occurred.

This wasn't in part because you didn't want to. You did. You simply held no real reason for why your body—your mind—chose to betray you at the oddest of times. At first you figured it was the lack of sleep. The restlessness that ate away at your body each night—keeping you up and active until finally you wore yourself out.

But this wasn't that.

This came from deep inside your chest, lingering beneath the surface—waiting for something good to happen before it struck with a vengeance. This protruded out of your very nightmares.

"Need some help?" He knew the answer before it came. No.

What could he possibly do that you hadn't tried a million times over? There was no easy fix for something this brutal. Silently, you begged him to leave the kitchen and find something else to occupy his time. He stubbornly stood behind you, watching over your shoulder as you dumped the now burned pan in the sink. What might have been a delicious steak now looked like a charred brick.

The sight of it still smoking only seemed to dampen your mood further.

You fought to keep yourself there, in the moment. But the dazed expression from earlier began to slowly trail its way back up your face. Until you could do nothing but stare at the mess you made, exhaustion slicing down to your bones.

His looming presence became an afterthought to all that filtered through your head. All the brittle and vile thoughts you tried to keep at bay. Some days they managed to weasel their way past your infinite walls. Some days...they found joy in tearing you up inside little by little.

Voicing it aloud though would never be an option to the havoc you tried to tame.

"C'mon," he muttered, his hands pulling at your hips to move you. "Out of the kitchen."

"I can finish–"

His glare was devastating.

Most of the time you'd ask him to tell you what he was thinking. Tonight you understood his demand. Get out of the kitchen before you hurt yourself. Let him do what you often did for everyone else.

Give him the chance to put you first.

He points to the chair originally pulled out for him. "Sit down."

But unlike other people he encountered, you were far more stubborn. "I don't–"

"Sit on the chair bub. Or I'll tie you to it." The grin he gives you is filled with sarcasm, but you can see the truth shining in his eyes. He wouldn't hesitate to follow through on a promise like that. He wouldn't even blink. "Your choice."

There was no argument left to throw at him, because his attention was elsewhere. So you sat. You allowed yourself to rest as he stumbled his way through the kitchen. Logan couldn't really cook. He picked up what he could through the life he lived, but nothing came out exactly perfect. That wasn't what warmed your heart at the sight of him standing there intent on delivering a meal worth eating.

He didn't shy away when you tried to push. When the horror that you needed someone to help was no longer a fact you could ignore. No matter how hard you shoved and bit and did what you could to scare him off. Logan pushed back. He quelled your bite with a stature of resolute stoicism.

With an exhale, he flipped the burner off and slid whatever he'd made onto a clean plate. Watching him move felt as if you were being placed in a trance. You almost told him that once in your first week of dating. Something told you he already knew by the way your eyes tracked him from the kitchen to the table.

"Steak," he said, sitting with a grunt.

A quick glance told you one thing. Logan didn't know shit about cooking steak.

You grinned nonetheless.

"There's..." Red spilled down the side, pooling on the plate as steam hit your face. "How long did you cook it?"

He shrugged, slicing it with ease and plopping a piece into his mouth. "Tastes fine to me."

"I'm sure it does."

"Watch it bub," he muttered mid chew, his lips curled into a smirk.

Making a show of zipping your lips shut, you took the piece he offered you. And as he did each time before, you ate it with a grin simply to watch his smirk turn into a smile. There may have been no salt, no extra flavor, and strangely a charred sensation with each bite. But you could taste the love spreading across your tongue with ease.

"Delicious," you garbled in the hopes he'd understand how much you loved him.

He snorted, shoving the plate to the center of the table. His thumb swiped at the juice that leaked from the corner of your mouth, causing your heart to jump erratically in your chest. Even on your bad days he managed to flip the switch in your mind with simple touches and soft looks.

"'M gonna order a pizza."

Leaning into his hand, you pressed a kiss to his wrist. "Thank you."

#just need a large man to cook me food when my mood dips drastically #manifesting this for all of you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x y/n #wolverine #my writing

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egophiliac · 2 years ago

Note

Are you excited for Malleus to read us all his Fanfiction?

Malleus making a perfect dreamworld for all of us to live in like

#art #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland spoilers #twisted wonderland episode 7 spoilers #twisted wonderland book 7 spoilers #it's SO CLOSE i can TASTE IT #tastes like delicious angst >:)#and this probably isn't even the RESOLUTION it's just going to end on another MASSIVE CLIFFHANGER and MURDER MY SOUL #i am not ready. i'm not.#on the other hand i am SO READY to meet ortho's puppies!#they have names now! KB-RS01 & 02!#and you can have them in your guest room?! what?! i need to get back into doing that

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softaestluv · 2 months ago

Text

Sticky When Wet

Three times Ghost swore he hated honey with his tea and one time he admitted he couldn’t live without it.

Alpha! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Omega! Reader

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Omegaverse, Alpha/Omega stereotypical behavior, Scenting, Angst, Miscommunications, Denial, Simon is bad at feelings, Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Size difference, Eventual smut

Pt. 1 of 4, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4

Black Tea.

Ghost cherished black tea more than the average person. Every morning: a fresh cup to start the day. Stressed out? A cup of plain and natural black tea would bloom deliciously in his chest. Solved most of his problems, burnt away the tension in his body.

Honey.

Ghost appalled honey more than the average person. The taste, smell, and consistency, everything about it, down to the yellow color. It was too sweet; a pungent aroma of warm sugar like butterscotch and woody cedar made him turn away in disgust. Plus, it was sticky and tacky. Clung to every surface it touched. Glued his counters and fingers in layers of goop that he struggled to scrub off.

He wasn’t one for sweets; rarely was he given the privilege of a sugary treat in his childhood. Candied items were even more rare in the military, though most luxuries were in his occupation. So, he never developed a sweet tooth; he lived without it for so long.

Instead, Simon favored bold flavors; enjoyed the rich malt of black tea. Melting bitterly on his tongue, just the way he craved. He couldn’t even imagine ruining the delectable taste of his tea with honey. Diluting the strong flavor soft and sweet.

There were few things Ghost admitted to loving in his life, but a warm cup of black tea was one he would willingly sing his love for from the top of the hills.

Why would he put artificial flavoring in it? The tea already had the perfect taste.

Ghost hated honey. Hated it even more mixed into his sacred tea. Despised the way your scent radiated it. Loathed how you reeked of sage honey and sweet tangerine. Disgusted each time he smelt your sickly sweet scent, each time you served him a tray in the mess hall stained in honey and citrus.

It ruined his food, ruined his fucking black tea. The delicacy of a pure cup ripped from his grasp the moment you started working in the cafeteria. Your scent soaked into the food, the tea—the whole fucking cafeteria. Filling his senses with warm honey, pungent even through the fabric of his balaclava, melting onto his tongue with each breath. Made his tea sweet and saccharine.

The tea bags stored in the kitchen were tainted by your scent. The only place he could enjoy a cup of tea anymore was tucked away in the barracks, stored in his room where he could peacefully escape your scent.

Even now, walking down the empty corridor to the mess hall, your smell wafted through the doors. Practically suffocating him the moment he walked through them, flooding every sense with your thick aroma. Drenching him in your warmth, clinging to his skin, and making him sticky, exactly the way he hated.

“The hell is this?” A sergeant shouted at you as Ghost walked over, tray slammed loudly against the counter.

Your head snapped up, shrinking behind your shoulders from the harsh gaze of the alpha, voice shaking lightly, “I'm sorry, sir. What’s the problem?”

“Are you stupid? Foods bloody fuckin’ cold, and you didn’t give me any bread.” Belittling tone making you flinch.

“I-I’m sorry, sir. I’ll make sure to fix this for you,” You stuttered, trembling hands scrambling to pick up the tray as his aggressive scent overtook yours.

Your own scent turned sharp, sweet smell diluted, washed away, and tainted from the other alpha’s condescending words. Shifting warmth and tangerine into sour malodorous. The putrid smell alarmed Ghost’s alpha, rumbling in his chest angrily, trying to claw its way out to comfort the omega in distress.

Ghost’s eyes zeroed in on the other alpha, the man who soured your scent. His eyes twitched in irritation, instincts just about ready to maul the threat to your contented smell.

“No. Do it fucking right from the beginning next time, omega,” The man barked, alpha voice curled around the edges of his words, causing you to fight the urge to present your neck in submission.

The use of his alpha voice had Ghost growling angrily, watching you struggle to keep your chin down made him seethe, clenching his jaw tightly.

“Oy,” Ghost snapped, both of your eyes flickering to his looming presence, “Is that any way you should be talkin’ to her, sergeant?”

The sergeant opened and closed his mouth, struggling to find the correct words as he stared at Ghost in shock. Dumbfounded.

“Huh?” He asked dripping in anger, crossing his arms over his chest disapprovingly, waiting for a response, “I asked you a fuckin’ question. Or are you the stupid one?”

“No, Lieutenant.”

The smaller alpha stammered under Ghost’s scrutiny, arrogance since dissipating from his voice and stance. Submitting to Ghost and his demanding tone like a petulant child scolded by his father.

“This isn’t a buffet. Go eat your fuckin’ cold food with a smile.”

The sergeant nodded, ducking his head in embarrassment before scurrying off like he wasn’t just brazenly scolding you. He would deal with him later during training, make him—make everyone understand that he wouldn’t tolerate that behavior.

Ghost turned his focus to you, doe eyes since widened, staring up at him with the same shock the sergeant wore.

“Thank you, lieutenant. You didn’t have to do that.”

“What? Like you were gonna fuckin’ do anything ‘bout it besides stinking the room up with distressed omega,” Simon grumbled, “Though, I guess you already do that.”

Your eyebrows furrowed together, a frown deepening on your plump lips as his words settled in. Sour scent muted into confusion, melancholic. You placed his tray on the counter, mumbling quietly under your breath as you diverted your gaze.

“Sorry about that, sir.”

Simon almost laughed as he grabbed the tray and walked to an empty table. Only he could save someone from an asshole alpha just to end up leaving the situation as the asshole. Though, he wasn’t lying; he had seen countless men scrutinizing you, and you never fucking did anything about it. Just let them walk all over you, folding under their command within seconds.

It pissed him off to watch you give in so easily. Especially when it soured your scent, filling the mess hall with distressed omega. That was almost worse than the sugared honey and citrus combination that overwhelmed his senses. Instead, it made his black tea unbearable; couldn’t even drink it as it burned his throat acidicly. Let alone be in the same room when it had his alpha unsettled, tossing violently in his chest.

Ghost didn’t understand why you didn’t fight back. Why you just let it happen when they clearly spoiled your mood, spoiled your sweet scent sour. Though, he wasn’t an omega, his natural instinct wasn’t to submit. His instinct was to challenge and battle against any authority that threatened him.

It’s not like the men in the military were astoundingly gracious anyway; most of them were pricks with too much testosterone who chose to take their anger out on the weak link, the omegas, to feel powerful. To follow and satisfy the primal hierarchy built into their genes, to make up for their lack of self-esteem.

There weren’t many omegas on base, and Simon was sure you faced most of the brute backlash from alphas. So, he took matters into his own hands, shutting down and shooing away any asshole he saw berate you. It was a known fact by now to the other men on base not to; he had made it abundantly clear that he wouldn’t allow anyone to treat you that way.

However, they were always receiving recruits, and a fresh trainee served as the perfect example for the rest of them. Before whispers were mingling between them ‘not to fuck with the pretty omega or else the lieutenant will make sure your training is a living hell.’

Besides, Ghost was only doing it because he liked his black tea without a side of distressed omega—really.

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 1 month ago

Text

always first. l Harry Castillo

Harry Castillo [The Materialists] x Reader

summary: this evening was just perfect

warnings: fluff, angst, chocolate soufflé, some champagne, one broken heart

a/n: i don't know what you'll think about this. or what you'll think about me.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist] [Harry Castillo masterlist]

This restaurant was probably the most elegant and exclusive you had ever been to. You felt like you didn’t belong there, but you were there with him. Porcelain plates and delicate glasses of iced white wine sat on a crisp white tablecloth, candles flickered softly, their light reflecting off the eyes of the man in front of you.

Harry Castillo. In a perfectly tailored suit, with well-styled hair and a wonderful smile, he looked at you with his brown eyes. He was handsome and at that moment he looked simply stunning.

“Does everything taste good?” he asked in a soft voice that made every nerve in your body vibrate.

"Mhm." you mumbled, taking a sip of wine. "Delicious."

He tilted his head, smiling at you. A pleasant warmth crept up to your neck. Maybe it was the wine... Or maybe Harry.

When you put down the cutlery, he nodded to the waiter standing by the wall, who quickly approached you and cleared the plates.

“Dessert will be served soon. May I recommend the chocolate soufflé?”

Harry looked at you, and you raised your eyebrows in approval. "The lady accepted. Thank you."

The boy walked away, leaving you alone.

“I have another surprise for you,” Harry said, gently running his fingers over the glass on the table. “I hope you enjoy it as much as you enjoyed dinner tonight.”

"I'm sure of it." you replied. "Are you going to tell me what it is or do I have to guess?"

Harry straightened up and reached into the pocket of his jacket. A small velvet box flashed in his hand. Before you could say a word, or at least take a breath, he knelt down next to you and gently took your hand.

"Darling..." he began, and your heart began to pound in your chest. "The day I met you, I knew I had been waiting for you my whole life. You're everything I need and want."

"Harry..." you sighed, but he just smiled, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.

“I’ve never met a woman as beautiful, smart, brilliant, and funny as you. You’re perfect for me, and I can’t imagine my life without you.” He carefully opened the box, and your eyes met the ring, which was a small work of art in itself. An elegant diamond surrounded by several smaller ones, exactly the same as the one you’d seen at one of the most expensive jewelers in town. Harry continued, his gaze never leaving your face. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to grow old with you, have children with you, and watch them grow up. I want to support you and love you for the rest of my life. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

Your throat was so tight that you weren't sure if you'd be able to utter a single word. Harry must have noticed, because he didn't rush you, but only looked at you with the same tenderness as before.

You finally managed to take a breath, and a quiet "Yes, I'd love to" escaped your lips.

If Harry was happy, now you saw true joy in his eyes. A diamond ring was slid onto your finger, and warm lips kissed your hand.

"You've made me the happiest man on earth, baby." he said.

"And you've made me the happiest woman."

He got up from the ground and sat down on a chair, finished his wine and looked at you with happiness written all over his face. Your heart was still pounding in your chest, but you managed to glance at your hand. You almost didn't recognize it. The diamond reflected the dim glow of the candles, it looked even more beautiful than in the box.

"How much does it cost?" you asked quietly, gently turning your hand to look at it closely.

“Does it matter?” Harry burst out laughing, but you looked at him expectantly, so he quickly added, “Over two hundred thousand.”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you quickly reached out to him. “Take this before someone cuts off my finger!” you said and he laughed.

The ring quickly returned to the box, and Harry put it in his jacket pocket. He watched as you finished your wine and shifted in your chair. He waited.

"And what do you think? Will she like it?" he asked.

You looked at him and sighed quietly. "If Meredith isn't thrilled after all this, I don't know what could make her happier." You answered honestly. "That's all..." You made a hand motion encompassing the entire restaurant and Harry. "That's perfect. No director could have come up with this better, Harry."

The man smiled, clearly pleased with your answer. You knew he had been planning this for a while. Of course, he told you because you were his friend. The best friend he had, who knew him like the back of her hand.

He and Meredith had been dating for almost half a year, and Harry was completely committed to it. He really wanted this relationship to be long-term. Every outing, every gift, every time spent with Meredith, he consulted with you first. You didn't want to do it, but he begged you so hard that you gave in.

Every restaurant he took her to, he was there with you first.

Every dessert she ate, you had to taste it first.

Every bouquet of flowers, you had to see first.

Every gift had to be accepted by you.

And now even their engagement had to pass the test in your presence.

You didn't want this. Every time you felt like it was slowly killing you. Harry had been your friend for a few years and you didn't even know when you had fallen in love with him. The most charming, caring, loving man you had ever met in your life was about to propose to another woman.

No, she wasn't a bad woman. Meredith was beautiful and smart. Or at least that's what Harry said about her, because you'd only met her once. You didn't hate her, but you were incredibly sad that such a man had come your way only for you to help him marry another woman.

“You seem sad about something.”

His warm voice pulled you out of your thoughts for a moment. You plastered an innocent smile on your lips. “I was lost in thought, sorry. Everything will be so beautiful... Maredith will be thrilled for sure.”

“I hope so,” he sighed. “Of course, I’ll let you know when she makes a decision.”

"Of course. Thank you."

“Your dessert, chocolate soufflé.” You almost jumped as the waiter appeared right behind you and placed your order on the table.

An ironic thought flashed through your mind like lightning. The chocolate soufflé was your last meal before your execution. Soon, the man you loved would marry another woman, and you would congratulate him with a smile on your lips.

"It looks wonderful, doesn't it?"

“Yes, it does.” You replied, looking at Harry, even as your eyes stung with the tears that were slowly forming. “You thought of everything, Harry.”

How many more smiles could you make? You didn't want to convince yourself of that. His happiness was the most important thing, and you were glad you could help him achieve that.

Because that's what friends do, right? They help, not love.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

#pedro pascal #harry castillo #harry castillo x f!reader #harry castillo x reader #the materialists

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suunani · 2 months ago

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pretty when u cry ( song mingi )

▍ a completely stupid argument, and now mingi is crying for your attention.

content : 1.1k words, male reader, boyfriend! mingi, desperate! mingi, angst & fluff (?), mingi whine…, really suggestive at the end lol, mingi calls reader 'baby', requested here!

it was supposed to be a nice, chill night.

you and mingi were curled up on the couch, watching some random show, when the dumbest argument of your entire relationship broke out. it started with you casually mentioning how good pineapple tasted on pizza.

mingi had gone rigid.

“you like pineapple on pizza?” he had asked, turning to you so fast it was like you’d just confessed to murder.

“…yeah?”

silence. then, pure disgust settled over his face.

“you’re serious?”

you frowned. “what’s wrong with that?”

“what’s right with that?” mingi countered. “that’s, like, the worst topping ever. it’s soggy. it’s wrong.”

you scoffed. “it’s sweet and salty. it’s delicious.”

“it’s an abomination.”

“mingi, it’s not that serious—”

“it is that serious,” he pointed at you, eyes narrowing. “i don’t know if i can look at you the same way after this.”

and that? that was where he fucked up.

because now, you were annoyed.

he had been dramatic over stupid things before, but this was next-level. you had half a mind to kick him off the couch, but instead, you decided on something worse.

you ignored him. full-on silent treatment.

and mingi was not handling it well.

for the past twenty minutes, he had been trying everything to get your attention.

he had tried whining. he had tried cuddling into your side. he had even pouted — full lips jutted out, eyes wide and pleading — but you refused to acknowledge him.

at first, he had just been playfully frustrated.

but now? now, he was genuinely suffering.

“baby,” he whined, dramatically draping himself across your lap. “please, just look at me.”

you didn’t move.

he groaned, shoving his face into your stomach. “you’re really mad over this?”

more silence.

mingi sighed and pulled back, staring at you. you were still facing the tv, arms crossed, expression blank.

he swallowed. “you’re really not gonna talk to me?”

nothing.

mingi inhaled sharply. “okay.”

then, to your absolute shock, you heard a small, shaky sniffle. your brows twitched. another sniffle.

you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, and—

oh.

oh, shit.

his eyes were glossy, his bottom lip trembling. his lashes fluttered rapidly, trying to hold back the tears that were already beginning to spill.

he sniffled again, then rubbed at his face with his sleeve.

“i just… i don’t know what i did wrong,” he muttered, voice cracking slightly.

you blinked. “mingi…”

his head snapped up, eyes wide, hopeful. “you’re talking to me again?”

you frowned. “are you crying?”

he sniffled. “i am not.”

you stared at him.

he sniffled again, rubbing at his eye with his sleeve.

“i just… i hate when you ignore me.”

your chest tightened.

but then, you noticed something else.

his lips were slightly swollen, from either biting them or pressing them together to hold back sobs. his nose was red-tipped, his expression soft, vulnerable, desperate. his wet lashes glistened under the dim lighting of the room, making his eyes look even bigger.

he looked stupidly pretty.

mingi sniffled, staring at you, waiting.

you exhaled, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from his cheek with your thumb. he shivered slightly at the touch.

“you really cried over this?” you murmured.

mingi sniffled again, then nuzzled into your palm, blinking up at you like an abandoned puppy.

“i don’t like when you ignore me,” he admitted quietly.

his voice was soft, raspy, broken.

something in you snapped.

before you could think twice, you grabbed his chin and tilted his face up further. his breath caught as you ran your thumb over his lip, feeling the warmth, the slight dampness from his tears.

mingi’s lashes fluttered. “baby…”

your grip tightened.

“you look really pretty when you cry,” you muttered.

mingi froze.

a visible shudder ran through his body. his breath shuddered, eyes flickering between yours and your lips.

then—

“do you like it?” he whispered.

your fingers flexed against his jaw. “like what?”

mingi swallowed thickly. “when i cry.”

your pulse quickened.

he inhaled, shaking slightly as he leaned in. “because i’ll do it more if it means you’ll touch me like this again.”

fuck.

you clenched your jaw, gripping his face tighter, thumb pressing against his lower lip.

“you’re really pushing it,” you muttered.

mingi exhaled shakily, leaning into your touch. his hands found your waist, fingers pressing in just enough to make your skin tingle.

“is that a bad thing?” he murmured.

you didn’t answer. instead, you moved.

in one swift motion, you grabbed the back of his neck and yanked him forward, crashing your lips against his.

mingi moaned.

it was soft, breathy, but fuck, it was there.

his hands tightened around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. his lips were warm, needy, moving feverishly against yours as if he was trying to make up for the time you had spent ignoring him.

your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly — he whimpered. something dark, hungry, settled in your stomach.

you deepened the kiss, pushing him further back against the couch. mingi let out a small gasp as your tongue slid past his lips, his grip on your hips tightening.

“fuck,” he whispered against your mouth. “you—”

you cut him off by biting his bottom lip.

mingi whined.

you smirked. “what was that?”

his breath shuddered. “you’re—”

another kiss. this one harder.

mingi’s head hit the armrest, his body pliant beneath yours. his chest rose and fell rapidly, his fingers trembling against your skin.

you pulled back slightly, just enough to see his face — his flushed cheeks, his swollen lips, his half-lidded, desperate eyes.

he looked wrecked.

and you weren’t even close to done.

“you’re not crying anymore,” you teased, voice low.

mingi swallowed, lips parting slightly. “maybe you should keep ignoring me, then.”

you huffed a quiet laugh. “you’re such a fucking brat.”

he smirked. “but you love it, right?”

you pressed your knee between his thighs.

mingi gasped.

his eyes flew open, cheeks burning. “oh, fuck—”

you leaned down, lips brushing against his ear.

“if you keep acting like this,” you murmured, “i might have to make you cry again.”

mingi shuddered.

“fuck,” he whispered, voice breathy. “please.”

his grip on your waist tightened.

and just like that, your forgotten argument about pineapple on pizza?

didn’t seem so important anymore.

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roosterforme · 2 months ago

Text

Aim for the Sky Part 38 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley works out plans for an anniversary trip, only stopping to enjoy some Halloween candy and a little milk. Everything is wonderful at home, but when you're at work, you notice Indigo in closer proximity that you'd prefer.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, DILF Roo, pregnancy, smut, lactation kink

Length: 3200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley woke up on Sunday to his phone telling him that it was November. The month of his wedding anniversary. Almost two years married to you. He smiled as you continued to sleep soundly, sprawled halfway on top of him, drooling on his shoulder. This is how he wanted to wake up every day for the rest of his life.

Rose hadn't made a peep yet, and he wanted to let you sleep as long as possible after trick-or-treating last evening. The three, well really four, of you had traipsed all over the neighborhood, collecting candy which Bradley had eaten half of while rubbing your feet last night. His stomach was currently gurgling softly, but he wasn't going to move an inch until one of his girls woke up.

In the meantime, he used his free hand to continue his search for the perfect anniversary trip on his phone. He soon had it narrowed down to two options, but he wanted you to pick. He'd ask you when you woke up. He was just ordering a case of non-alcoholic pink champagne and some hot sauce when he felt your arm tighten around his waist.

"Roo," you moaned, arching your back before looking up at him. "What time is it?"

"Almost eight," he whispered, kissing the tip of your nose as you snuggled against him again. He tossed his phone aside in favor of letting his hand rest on your bump, desperate to feel his younger daughter.

"Rose isn't up yet?" you murmured, yawning.

"Not yet," he confirmed as you pulled up his old shirt you fell asleep in, giving him better access to your belly. "Is Nugget Part Deux moving around?"

You hummed softly as he caressed your skin, tracing a line down to your dainty rooster tattoo. "She's a little squirmy. She'll wake up more once I start moving." You yawned again. "Halloween must have wiped Rose out. She had a big night. But my boobs are starting to ache."

Bradley watched you continue to pull the shirt up over your body until your breasts were on full display. He bit his lip, whimpering softly at the sight of your milk beading on your nipple. "There was a question I wanted to ask you, but suddenly I can no longer think straight, Sweetheart," he panted.

You reached for his hand, guiding it up to your heavy breasts, eyes closing as his fingers met your milk. "Do you want to take the edge off for me?"

Bradley's cock was at attention, raring to go as he nodded. Dizzy with need, he watched you pull the shirt off and toss it to the floor before propping yourself on your elbows. "Jesus, fuck. I've never seen anything so perfect in my life."

You giggled, alerting him to the fact that he'd spoken out loud. "Come on, Daddy. Help me out here."

Milk dribbled down to the underside of your tit, and Bradley dragged his tongue through it. You made a delicious little sound as he wrapped his lips around your nipple and sucked. Heaven. It tasted like heaven on his tongue. He was leaning on his hand which was planted next to your hip, and his cock rested on your thigh. You didn't stop him when he pressed his hips forward.

"Roo," you whined, running your fingers through his hair, and then gripping him at the roots when he sucked harder. "Oh!" You held him in place as he lapped up his reward. That's what this was. This was his personal treat for getting you pregnant again. A seemingly endless supply of breastmilk to enjoy. He knew it was for the babies, but you knew he loved it, too.

"God," he grunted, switching sides, rubbing his cock on your leg. "I'm fucking obsessed." His voice was muffled as he took your perfectly pert nipple in his mouth. You were tugging on his hair and simultaneously holding him closer as he tried to make sure he didn't suck you dry. But it was so hard to stop, especially when his balls tightened up.

He swallowed and released your breast, dragging his lips to yours. "I'm so fucking close, and you barely even touched me." You laughed against his kisses. "I'm not even fucking kidding." Bradley knew he was in no position to give you an orgasm until he got his out of the way, and he was almost shaking. "Can I give you a pretty creampie?" he begged.

You nodded, wrapping your hand around his cock which was grinding against your hip. "It's not like I'm not already pregnant."

"Fuck," he groaned, letting you guide him to your pussy. Bradley thrust deep as you settled against your pillow, spreading your legs further for him. You looked the part of the perfect woman, belly already swollen from how he couldn't stop fucking you full of his cum, coaxing him closer with your smile.

He came hard by the fifth thrust, hands braced on either side of your head as he panted your name, his hips fucking his cum deeper as he bucked against you. When you sweetly pushed his hair back from his forehead, everything in the whole world made sense to him.

"Oh, I know what I was going to ask you, Baby Girl."

You wrapped your legs around his hips. "Hmm?"

"Mountains or lake?"

"What?" you whispered as Bradley sat back to observe the mess he made.

"For our anniversary," he rasped. "I'm planning our trip. I just need you to answer one question, and I'll take care of the rest. Mountains or lake?" The first drop of his cum slid down to your asshole, and Bradley's brain shut down again as he stared. "Beautiful," he murmured, rubbing his mess back up to your clit.

He worked his fingers, listening to you babble about your anniversary. He let his body hover above yours, being none too gentle with his fingers when he realized that's what you needed at the moment. Your lips parted, head tipping back into the pillow, gasping until your voice was hoarse. As you eventually came around his fingers, you screamed the word, "Mountains!"

"That's all I needed to know," Bradley whispered, kissing your neck as Rose started crying in her nursery. "I'll get cleaned up and play with Rosie until you're ready to feed her. Take your time."

You waved your hand in the air, nodding wordlessly as Bradley kissed your forehead and climbed out of bed with a smile on his face.

---------------------------

The weekend had been luxurious. There was no other way to describe it. Sex and Halloween candy and Bradley cooking dinner. A beach walk with Rose and Tramp. A FaceTime call with your parents. It was perfect. You slept so soundly on Sunday night, Bradley had to wake you as your alarm blared for work on Monday morning.

"Oh, God," you groaned, reaching for your glasses while the baby kicked and Rose fussed down the hallway. You almost wet yourself on the way to the bathroom while Bradley went to hold Rose until you were ready for her. Your belly was tender, and you couldn't control your bladder. It was amazing Bradley couldn't seem to get enough of you, but you believed him. Because he'd been showing you.

Once you got yourself mostly ready for the day, you hustled to the nursery to find your husband holding your daughter. Bradley was wearing his gray sweatpants, and his hair was an absolute mess. His voice was still a little raspy from sleep as he snuggled Rose to his chest and bounced her around the room while she whined.

"Mommy's coming, Nugget. Relax. I miss her, too, but she'll be here in a minute." When you walked in, Bradley bounced her over to the chair so you could feed her. "Here's Mommy." He kissed her fuzzy head of hair before handing her over.

When you sat back in the chair, Bradley groaned, easing himself down to the floor at your feet. "What are you doing?" you asked, his arm snaking around your calf as Rose latched onto you to eat.

He kissed your bare leg; your uniform was the last thing you needed before you were ready for work. "Just want to sit here with you for a minute."

He went quiet with his cheek pressed to the side of your knee, and occasionally you ran your fingers through his hair. "I don't want to go to work," he mumbled. "This weekend was so nice."

"It was perfect," you agreed. "But your students need you there to instruct them."

Bradley shook his head, his mustache rough on your skin. "I don't know if I'm even doing a good job, Sweetheart. I don't think I am."

Oh, you hated Indigo. Hated the very thought of her. You hated that she wanted to sleep with Bradley. You hated that she made your husband feel this way. You hated that she was still lurking around North Island.

You held Rose to your chest and reached down to take Bradley's chin in your palm. His brown eyes were vulnerable. "You're a Top Gun pilot, Bradley. You're the best. Nobody else is going to be able to train younger pilots any better than you can. Now go make me breakfast and put your uniform on."

With another groan, Bradley stood, but he looked a little happier. "Whatever you say, Baby Girl," he whispered, kissing your forehead.

Now, you had your own conundrum to deal with. Normal looking yet uncomfortable uniform? Or comfy maternity tent? There was an obvious answer. You knew what it was. Your body was crying out for it. The tent was calling your name. But you couldn't. You just couldn't do it. Squeezing into your pants was a chore. So was tucking in your shirt. But you did it.

"I guess I'll just stand all day," you muttered to yourself as you ate the avocado toast and hot sauce Bradley left on the counter while he got Rose dressed. The waistband of the pants bit into your side when you tried to bend. This was probably the last day without the tent.

Somehow you managed to get into the passenger seat, and Bradley buckled you with extra care. "I'll drop Rose at the nursery," he said while he drove. "You can go ahead to your lab." He wanted an excuse to make this weekend last a little longer, so you let him leave you off at the door.

"I love you, Roo," you promised. "Love you, Rose," you told your daughter as she tried to chew on her foot. As soon as they pulled away to park, you saw Cam and Maria heading your way, so you waited.

"Oh my god, you're huge now," Cam gasped. "I haven't seen you in like a week, and you're enormous."

Maria shoved him as he reached out to touch your belly. "She is not!"

"Damn," he whispered. "What are you due? January?"

"April first!" you whined miserably, tipping your head back. "I know I'm huge."

"You aren't!" Maria argued. "You look adorable!"

"Your tits look phenomenal," Cam added, and you glared at him until he held the door open for you. "What? Lieutenant Commander Mustache is all over that shit. I just know it."

"Okay, you're probably right about that," Maria said.

Your entire body warmed as your friends reminded you of what you should have never forgotten. They didn't know about Indigo, and now wasn't the time to have a discussion.

"Let's grab lunch one day this week," Cam said as the three of you rode up the elevator.

"Sounds good," you promised, waving goodbye to them when you turned right to head to your office. But when your door came into view, you froze. Even from behind, you knew it was her, pacing back and forth like she was waiting for you.

This was insane. You had nothing to be afraid of. She couldn't hurt you. Bradley didn't want her. She'd been grounded. But you turned on your heel and rushed to your lab instead.

---------------------------------

Bradley had been having a wonderful day. He felt good about his class, and he got to see you at lunch. When you had to pop the button on your pants in order to sit comfortably, he threatened to hide your uniform if you didn't wear maternity khakis tomorrow. But other than that, it was smooth sailing. Until the end of the day when he stopped in the deserted rec room for some stale coffee.

With his cup in hand, Bradley walked past the couches just as the door swung open. Indigo strolled in like she was on a mission, and his stomach lurched as his steps came to a stop.

"Can I help you?" he asked. A slightly terrifying little smile appeared on her lips.

"I don't know, can you?" she asked, voice dripping with innocence. "Or are you still too scared to be alone with me?"

Truthfully, he kind of was, but he'd never admit that. Besides, you had no reason to doubt him now, so he simply stood there and sipped his coffee before clearing his throat. "Lieutenant Jeffries, it's not my responsibility to help you find ways to entertain yourself while you're grounded," he told her smoothly, and her bright blue eyes narrowed.

"I'll just sit in here for the rest of the afternoon. Lieutenants Trace and Seresin kicked me out earlier, claiming I shouldn't have access to the aviators' rec room if I'm not currently flying." Bradley had to fight hard not to laugh, but she kept going. "But both of their jets are in the air now, so nobody is going to stop me."

"Maybe you should listen to what your superior officers tell you," Bradley said, breezing past her toward the door.

Her sharp laughter cut into him. "Maybe you'll heed your own words when Maverick gets back and immediately ends my grounding."

Bradley hated how it always felt like she was gaining the upper hand. "Maybe you should call him Captain Mitchell," he tossed over his shoulder. "Call signs are for aviators to use, Lieutenant Jeffries."

The sound of disgust she made boosted his mood as he plowed through the door. He didn't want to linger in her presence for longer than was absolutely necessary. His quiet office was calling his name anyway. So was the mound of paperwork he needed to complete.

The hallways in his building were nearly deserted, so it came as a surprise when you were waiting by his door. "Sweetheart," he called out, jogging as quickly as he could with his coffee. He'd just been with you less than three hours ago. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you promised, tilting your perfect face up to look at him. "You missed me earlier this morning, and now I was missing you."

Bradley unlocked his door and led you inside. He spent the last forty-five minutes of his work day with you snuggled against him on his lap. His lips occasionally brushed your hair while he got through his paperwork with your arms wrapped around him.

---------------------------------

You bumped into Indigo randomly all week long. With nothing better to do, it seemed as though she made it her new mission to follow you around base more often than not. You'd taken to walking with Cat when you could, and one day Jake accompanied you to lunch. Honestly, you were a little surprised Indigo hadn't simply moved on to another hot officer older than her. Jake would have been a good candidate, which would have been hilarious. Cat would shred Indigo to bits without a second thought.

Cat was busy conducting her aircraft investigation and collecting data from Indigo's Super Hornet which left you conveniently in the lab most of the time. But when Bickel asked you to meet with a mechanic to talk about a new installation technique for a communications component, you found yourself in the busy hangar in your maternity tent.

If the mechanic thought you looked ridiculous, he didn't say a word about it. You'd decided that being comfortable was better than having marks on your sides from your regular pants when you got undressed after work. Now you had no problem breezing through your conversation and leaving the engine parts in the very capable hands of the Top Gun mechanic crew.

You headed back out onto the tarmac, glancing at the tower and Bradley's building. The November sun was glorious. It was hard to miss the east coast on a day like this when the weather in San Diego was pure perfection. But pausing to close your eyes and turn your face to the sky was a mistake.

"Hello, Lieutenant Commander." That voice gave you a chill before you even opened your eyes to see Indigo heading your way. Her face was expressionless, but her tone was cold as she stomped to a stop in front of you. "I would say it's nice to see you, but that would be a lie."

You pressed your lips together, swallowing hard as her blue eyes flashed with something that made your skin crawl. She was so beautiful and so angry, and you hated her so much. "For someone who doesn't want to see me, you sure have been following me around a lot this week," you bit back before considering your words.

"Don't flatter yourself," she replied smoothly. "The last thing I want to look at is your ridiculous uniform."

You loathed her. But now you could translate her words to their true meaning. She was devastatingly jealous of you. A smile curled along your lips as you cradled your belly. Goading her wasn't your best move, but you couldn't stop yourself. "I think I'll just go hang out in the aviators' rec room with my husband and the others. Isn't it funny that I've never piloted an aircraft, but I've also never been kicked out of their lounge?"

She ground her teeth together as you tried not to smile. When Jake told you what he and Nat had done, you'd been in stitches.

"I know you think you're hot shit around here," she snarled, prompting you to take a step back. And that's when she pounced. "But you don't have the power to ground me indefinitely."

"Actually, I do," you replied loudly, fingers curling into fists. "Your aircraft is under my jurisdiction. I'm in charge of the quality of the comms network and components. I am in control of things no matter how much you want to be. And the same goes for my husband."

You were immediately met with silence as her cheeks burned red, clashing with the color of her eyes. You couldn't remember the last time someone looked like they wanted to hit you. As long as she went for your face and not your belly, you'd welcome it. Anything to get her the fuck away from you and your friends and your family.

"As soon as Maverick comes back, you'll be history," she threatened, bumping your shoulder as she stormed away.

------------------------------

Roo loves milk with his candy. And Indigo has a lot of nerve talking to BG that way. Mav is practically family! Maybe I'll let Indigo find out exactly what happens when Mav gets back.

PART 39

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