#then it's time to close the door on this teaching thing

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Yakuza

When your brother gets himself deep into debt, one yakuza is surprisingly willing to help you get him out. Word Count: 4.3k

When your brother asks you to visit him in Tokyo, something about his voice makes your big sister instincts buzz.

He's great at putting on a show, but there's a twinge of nervousness to him that you've seldom heard before.

You spend your first week in the city with your hackles raised, trying and failing to figure out what he's hiding from you. And you might never have figured it out.

But then he showed up.

Yandere! Yakuza who kicks open your brother's door at three in the morning, a cigarette in one hand and a baseball bat in the other.

You scramble out of bed, convinced you're about to be murdered. And it's only your brother's hand hastily slapped over your mouth that keeps you from screaming bloody murder.

"Relax, I know these guys."

Despite his words, your brother doesn't look relaxed at all. His eyes dart around the room and he balls his fists into his jeans. It's a habit he hasn't broken since childhood and before you know it, you're stepping between him and a dangerously scarred yakuza.

Your Japanese is beyond rudimentary and your course didn't exactly cover how to have conversations with members of an organised crime family, but you tilt your chin back and try to keep your voice steady.

"Naze anata ga koko ni iru no ka? [why are you here?]"

Yandere! Yakuza who shamelessly leers at your tiny summer pyjamas. He pulls at his cigarette and when he speaks, his English is heavy with an accent.

"Came to collect what he owes us."

Of all the possible answers he could have given you, that was one you don't expect in the slightest. You turn to your brother and the way he avoids your eyes is answer enough. God, how could he be so stupid? Didn't you teach him better?

Yandere! Yakuza who came prepared to smash furniture and rough up a stubborn debtor suddenly finds himself at the mercy of your glare. You're at least a foot or two shorter than him and somehow it feels like he's the one being overpowered.

"How much does he owe?"

"Sis really I can-"

Yandere! Yakuza who scoffs and names a number much, much larger than you expected. It takes every ounce of will power not to scream at your brother right then and there. How could he get himself into such a mess? He's barely been here more than six months!

Yandere! Yakuza who watches the emotions flicker across your face and has to admire the way you fight them back. The only sign of your fear is a slight tremble in your hand.

"How much do you need tonight?"

The amount he names is just about everything you have in savings. You bite your lip. One look at him tells you everything you need to know. This isn't some small time crook. The pin on his suit jacket is clear as day, even to a foreigner like you.

You pull your coat over your pyjamas and grab your handbag.

"Let's go then."

When you step out into the hall, you're met with two other Yakuza. How didn't you notice them?

You meet their eyes, trying your absolute hardest to seem unruffled. Predators get violent when they sense fear, right? So don't like them catch that smell on you, no matter how fast your heart is racing.

The night air nips at your skin as you head to the nearest ATM.

"Sis it isn't that bad, I swear -"

"We'll talk about it later, ok?"

Yandere! Yakuza who walks close behind you. You can catch the smell of his cologne - something woody and pleasantly sharp.

When you slip your card into the ATM, he leans against the wall next to you and pulls out another cigarette. He watches you while he lights it, the flame throwing his cheekbones into sharp relief.

"You got a boyfriend?"

You're genuinely surprised. Your relationship status isn't exactly on your list of things dangerous criminals should be concerned about.

"No. I don't."

He let's the smoke curl up between his teeth.

"Good. Pretty girl like you shouldn't bother with relationships."

"Why not?"

The ATM spits out your cash before he can answer.

He doesn't take the money immediately. Instead, he let's his eyes roam down your body, like he can still see what's underneath your bulky coat.

"You're never gonna pay it off at this rate."

"You're offering me advice? Didn't think that was part of your job."

"Sōde wa arimasen [it isn't]. But what kind of man would I be if I didn't help you out?"

He digs in his inner pocket and you catch a glimpse of the gun holstered under his jacket.

He pulls out a business card and scribbles something at the back of it.

"He hasn't told you, but we've got his passport. He can't leave until he's settled what he owes."

You suck in a sharp breath at that. How much worse could this situation get?

He holds out the card. "Come work for us and maybe we can work out a better deal, yeah?"

You scoff. "Does that deal involve selling my organs?"

He smiles a little at that. "Īe - no. It's easy work. Come by tomorrow and see for yourself."

You look down at the card and the hand offering it. His tattoos peak out of his sleeve, blue-black and twisting in patterns you can't recognise. Better to not offend a gangster, right?

You take the card.

"Iiko [good girl]."

He turns to go, his baseball bat slung over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow hanī [honey]."

He's barely out of sight before you're grabbing your brother's ear and dragging him back to the apartment.

You spend the rest of the night talking to - or more accurately, interrogating - your brother.

"Gambling? What the hell where you thinking?"

"I was drunk, okay?"

You hiss and rub at your temples. And the worst part? The yakuza was right. You can't pay it off. Not without a very well paying job.

His card glares at you from the kitchen table. An easy job, huh?

The address on the card leads you to a hostess club in the middle of the Red Light District.

He isn't going to kidnap you in the middle of the day in the middle of the city, right? Slightly comforted, you make your way into the club.

It's cool and dark, lit by colorful lamps more than anything. You show the card to the bartender and a few minutes later your yakuza is sitting across from you and ordering you both drinks.

Yandere! Yakuza who wears a suit in the slouched, lazy way of a school delinquent. Shirt unbuttoned so you can see the edge his tattoos and the gold chain gleaming at his neck.

He gestures at the bar and the room around you, his cigarette hanging lazily between his fingers. "The Family owns this place. And my kyodai manages it."

He studies you while he smokes, eyes dipping to your chest and lingering. "You can work as a hostess here. Make good money and we'll take a cut of it to pay off what your brother owes."

You take a sip of your drink to avoid answering him. The sake leaves a tingle on your lips.

"But I'm not exactly fluent in Japanese. How am I supposed to entertain customers?"

He grins wolfishly at you. "Just wear something tight and you won't have to talk at all."

"Perv," you mutter into your drink.

On the surface, you can't see anything wrong with his offer. It makes perfect sense - the club gets a new girl they barely have to pay and your brother's creditors don't need to keep tracking him down.

But he's a yakuza and you'd be a fool to trust him.

"Fine. I'll work here, try my hardest to learn Japanese and sell drinks."

You hold his gaze. "But I'm gone the second I think you're being shady. Got it?"

Yandere! Yakuza who smiles like he's won the lottery. "Wakatta [got it]."

When you show up later that evening, he's your first customer. He orders you a bottle of champagne and keeps topping up your glass without ever touching his own.

A few drinks in you manage to finally loosen up enough to hold a conversation. He asks you endless questions - about your childhood, your hobbies, the movies you've been watching.

But in return, he dodges any question you throw at him. "Don't ask about my family." "My childhood was boring. You don't want to hear about it." "Hobbies? Does puss-"

"No."

"Then no."

He's surprisingly fun to talk to. And when he gets a call and has to leave you, there's a pang of disappointment that you can't quite mask.

He grins and flicks your forehead. "Don't miss me too much."

When you pick up the bill, you realise he left you a hefty tip. You stare at it and then at his retreating back. Just what is his angle?

Yandere! Yakuza who's back the next day and the one after that. He sprawls in the booth like a spoiled prince, his arms thrown across the headrest and his legs spread.

"Let me teach you Japanese."

You perk up. A native teacher would be so much easier to learn from compared to the dense textbooks you've tried using.

"Repeat after me. Onegaishimasu. It means 'please'."

You try and imitate his intonation. He walks you through a few more common phrases with moderate success.

"Need to work on your accent, but that was decent. Ready to try something longer? Anata wa totemo hansamudesu ne [I think you're very handsome]."

"Anato wa...wa totemo hansam... hansamudesu ne."

He smirks at you over the rim of his glass. He seems immensely pleased.

"What does it mean?"

"Just another way to... greet someone. Kinda tricky though, so you should just use it on me."

He spends the rest of the day explaining kanji and grammar. You take notes on the back of a receipt and promise to rewrite them when you get home.

Your shift is practically over when he finally stands to leave.

"Say goodbye like I taught you."

"Anata wa totemo hansamudesu ne."

He grins at you again, his voice a bit sweeter when he replies. "Anata mo totemo kireidesu ne [you're pretty too]."

You tilt your head, struggling to understand. You don't recognise the phrase, but he's gone before you can ask what it means.

Yandere! Yakuza who requests you almost everyday. Until the house mother snaps at him to give it a rest, there are other clients who want to talk to you.

He scoffs and throws back his drink, Adam's apple bobbing like he's swallowing down his anger too.

"If they want to talk to her so bad, they should get here earlier. Watashitachiha kono basho o shoyū shite imasu [we own this place]. So go and get me my girl."

When you finally make it to his table, he's back to being all smiles. The only person who notices his jealousy is the house mother and she's far too busy to mention it.

"My head is killing me. Give me a massage please?"

He flops down into your lap before you can say no.

You sigh and run your fingers through his hair, trying to remember where the pressure points are.

Yandere! Yakuza who practically purrs at your touch. When you lift a hand away to take a sip of your water, he barely waits for you to swallow before he's dragging it back.

There's something very strange about having a deadly gangster in your lap. With his eyes closed, you can almost forget just how much he scared you when you first met. Can forget how he still scares you.

He opens his eyes and catches you studying him. He reaches up and catches your hand as you draw away from him. His touch is gentle, softer than you would expect from looking at him.

"Go on a date with me."

You aren't sure if it's an offer or a command. There's something so intimate about the way he looks at you, the club lights carving hollows into his cheeks, eyes dark and sweet.

And God help you, he's so close. Only the thin fabric of your stockings between his skin and yours.

"Okay."

His lips quirk into a half smile, boyishly handsome.

"Good. You'll like it."

By the next evening, you're already regretting your decision. What kind of idiot goes on a date with a yakuza? You blame the alcohol and the closeness of his body and your stupid, stupid hormones for getting you into this.

But when he picks you up, you find yourself smiling. He actually knocks on the apartment door this time and you open it with the full intention of teasing him.

"My brother's landlord-"

Your words die in your throat. You always knew he was handsome but the man waiting for you takes your breath away.

His hair is slicked away from his face and a sparkling cross dangles from one ear. His lazy suits are gone, replaced with a suit that's pressed and tailored. Hell, even his shirt is buttoned up properly.

He looks good. Dangerously good.

He takes you in, eyes lingering at your curves. You swallow and try not to blush. You do your hair and makeup everyday for the club and he's seen you in this dress before, but he looks at you like it's all new to him, like he wants to drink in every inch of you.

You somehow manage to find your voice and it has none of its usual bite. "You look good. Really good."

He smoothes a hand over his hair self consciously. "Arigatō. Shall we go?"

He offers you his arm and you take it, your heart thundering. He opens the car door for you and helps you in like a proper gentleman. You catch a whiff of his cologne - the same woodsy scent from the night you met.

He takes you to a skyscraper restaurant and sits down right next to the window. The city is a sparkling sprawl at your feet.

"I didn't think you'd be into a place like this," you say.

"What? You think I don't got class?" He grins and points his fork at you, "I've got the best damn taste in this whole city."

"Explains why you asked me out then."

"Obviously." He leans forward. "Only the best for my girl, yeah?"

"I'm your girl? Since when?"

"Since..." He makes a show of checking his watch. "Since the night I met you. You just didn't know it yet."

Ah, now that's one way to make a girl fall for you. And despite your better sense, you feel yourself falling.

You can still taste the lingering sweetness of dessert when he walks you back to his car. His leans against the car door and loops his arms around your waist.

"You had fun tonight?"

"Yes. More than I expected honestly."

He pulls you closer to him, softly enough that you can step back at any point. You don't.

"Gonna give me a kiss to say thank you? It's a very important part of our culture."

You clasp your hands together behind his neck.

"You liar."

He grins that boyish half smile of his. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

He doesn't feel like a gangster or a creditor or a customer. In that moment he feels like just a man - someone strong and handsome that you desperately want to kiss.

Your gaze flickers down to his lips and then back to his eyes. You pull gently at his neck and his head dips lower. You stay like that for a moment, lips almost touching. Too nervous to make the final move.

His hands move to cradle your waist and he closes the gap between you.

You pull him closer, your hands slipping from his neck to his jaw. His stubble scrapes your palm and makes your whole body tingle. He tastes of wine and sugar.

When you finally pull away, you draw your thumb across his lower lip. His eyes are half lidded and when he moves, it's with a sluggish reluctance. Like he doesn't want to let go of you.

He keeps one hand on your waist and draws out a stack of cash with the other. When he speaks, his voice is husky.

"How much for tonight?"

"What?"

His draws his hand up your waist to rest against your sternum. Like he wants to dig his hand into your heart.

"How much to take you home?"

A bucket of cold water would have been less shocking. You pull away from him, your mind racing.

God, why are you such an idiot? Of course he only wants to fuck you. He's just a thug, what did you expect?

And worse, you feel like a small part of your heart is breaking. Why be so sweet to you, why go out of his way to spend time with you, if all he wants is a one night stand?

"Are you serious?"

"Obviously. How much do you charge?"

You act without thinking and slap him right across his face.

The sound of it is terribly sharp in the open quite of the parking lot. It leaves your palm stinging. You freeze, terrified of what you've just done.

He doesn't move, his head turned to the side from the force of your slap. Slowly, he touches his fingers to his cheek. His expression is unreadable.

Oh, you're so dead. You just hit a yakuza. A guy who probably breaks faces everyday, who has who knows how many felonies to his name.

Your first instinct is to apologise, say you weren't thinking and that you're so so sorry. You lift your chin and squash down that part of you.

"I'm not for sale."

The quiet stretches out, tense and dangerous. He turns away and opens the car door for you. He doesn't meet your eyes.

"I understand now. Gomen'nasai [I'm sorry]."

The drive home is terribly quiet. You keep expecting him to lash out - hit you or humiliate you for daring to slap him like that.

He doesn't. He just keeps eyes on the road.

When you reach your building, he follows you to the door and rests his hand on the frame above your head. You can feel him behind you, close enough for his breath to tickle the back of your neck.

"I can't buy you."

"No."

"But I want you."

You pull in a shuddering breath. "Earn it."

You shut the door without turning back.

He doesn't show up at the club for the next week. At first you're on edge - what if he gets you fired? Or worse, does something to your brother?

But your boss doesn't mention anything and your brother keeps coming home in one piece. Slowly, you relax. Tell yourself that he's done with you now that you won't give him what he wants. You try and ignore the way it hurts.

When he does finally show up, he's dangerously tipsy. He yanks you out of your booth in the middle of a date and leaves the house mother to bow and apologise to the customer.

You try not to make a scene as he pulls you along behind him. But you look about desperately for any of the other yakuza. Where the hell are they when you need them?

Finally, he drops you in a booth in the corner of the club and collapses across from you. His hair is messier than you've ever seen it and there's a feverish wildness in the way he looks at you.

"Fine. I'm here. Let me earn your love."

You rub your arm and scowl at him. "Your idea of winning me over is to leave a huge bruise on my arm?"

He runs his hands through his hair. "Hell, I don't know. I've never had to win a girl over before."

"Yeah right. I've seen the girls you go out with. There's no shortage of women in your life."

He looks you in the eye. "Bought and paid for." He gestures at the table and at you. "Not like this. Not like you."

That gives you pause. It makes sense. Gangsters don't exactly have the time to go on Sunday morning brunch dates or meet the family.

"So why not just pay someone else?"

You don't say it out loud but the rest of your question is clear. Why me?

"I...I don't want to. Setsumei suru no wa totemo muzukashīdesu [It's so hard to explain]. But I don't want anyone else."

A confession from a yakuza was not at all on your list on fun and lighthearted tourist activities. You're not entirely sure how to deal with it.

Your sense is screaming at you to be smart. And when is dating a criminal ever smart? You're supposed to get yourself and your brother away from the underworld, not get roped deeper in. And what happens if you want to break up? When has a man with a gun and too many scars ever taken a heartbreak well?

And yet...

You want him. Stupidly, against all sense, you want to be with him. He's dangerous. He probably only wants to fuck you. He has too much power over your life. He might never let you leave him.

And still you want him.

You take a deep breath. "Come over tonight and I'll cook you something. And if my cooking doesn't change your mind then... then we can talk about it."

He smiles at you and the wild look in his eye seems to finally dim.

"Anata ga watashi o oidasou to shite mo dekinakatta [Baby, you couldn't get rid of me if you tried]."

You weren't lying when you said you were a terrible cook. When he finally arrives, the rice is somehow both burnt and slightly undercooked and your curry is severely under-salted.

You scrunch your nose when you take a bite. "This is awful."

"You cooked it." He takes another bite. "And I hate to say it, but I've had worse."

You push your bowl away and mutter, "I didn't think rice could be so complicated. I followed the instructions and everything."

He takes another bite. "I can make decent rice. And udon."

"So between the two of us, there's only one good cook? Shameful."

He adds some salt to his bowl. "Neither of us ever has the time to cook anyway, so I don't know why you're surprised."

You shake your head and watch him. He's halfway through your abysmal culinary concoction and somehow not green in the face.

"You never talk about yourself," you tell him.

He avoids your eyes. "I'm not that interesting."

"But I am?"

"Yes." There's a quiet fierceness to his answer that makes your heart stutter.

"Tell me a secret about yourself."

It's his turn to study you. "A secret."

"That's what I said."

He considers you for a long moment before reaching up and undoing his shirt buttons. He turns his back to you and let's his shirt fall away.

You gasp. His tattoo covers his entire back. It's every bit as intricate as you suspected - there's lotus flowers between his shoulder blades and a spider inked below his ribcage.

But it's the snake that takes up most of the space. It curls and unwinds across his back, every scale painstakingly inked. It's hissing mouth rests on his shoulder blade, opposite his heart.

He flinches when you touch him, but doesn't ask you to stop. You run your fingertips up his back, tracing the snakes coiling body.

"It's incredible."

He doesn't answer you. Eventually your fingers come to rest on his neck.

He reaches back and takes hold of your wrist. He draws it forward and tilts his head to press a kiss against your pulse. You wonder if he can feel the way your heart jumps when he touches you.

"Do you want to know the real secret? I go home at night and lie awake thinking about you."

You lean forward and rest your forehead against his bare back. "What do you think about?"

He inhales sharply. "Your voice... your lips... your body."

You laugh a little and your warm breath on his skin makes him shiver. "You're shameless."

"Mattaku hajishirazuna [totally shameless]."

You tilt his head towards you and kiss his cheek.

You can feel him smile against your lips. When you pull away, he turns to you and cups your jaw.

Your Japanese has gotten better, but you don't understand what he whispers before he kisses you.

"Watashi Kazu anata ni koiwoshiteiru, soshite watashi wa tomaranai [I'm falling in love with you and I can't stop]."

He presses his lips against yours, so much hungrier this time. His hand slips from your cheek to the nape of your neck to pull you closer to him.

"My girl, my pretty girl. Hanaretakute mo hanare rarenakatta [I couldn't let you go even if I wanted to]."

He presses hot kisses against your throat. His grip on your neck almost painfully tight.

"Hitsuyōniōjite, anata no kyōdai ni wa nan-nen mo shakkin o showa seru koto ni narudeshou [gonna keep your brother in debt for years if I have to]."

The rest of his sentence is little more than a growl. "Nanrakano hōhō de anata ni watashi o aishite morau tsumoridesu [gonna make you love me back one way or another]."

The one downside of courting a yakuza is not understanding everything he says. But maybe it's safer that way.

[mochelisgf]

❛ word count: 1636

❛ warnings — smut, fingering (m!receiving), making out, idk other stuff that you’d usually see in smut fics

❛ bottom!morgan x reader

❛ authors note — this is my first time witting smut and i hate it so….enjoy 😀 also we need more mo cheli fics 😩

We hadn’t done anything in a week — perhaps even longer, seeing as how both me and Morgan have been busy; her with basketball and finals; and me with finals and my job. But here she was — flirting with someone else, well she's talking to a fan which is fine but come on? The excessive touching, holding her arm, biting her lip?

The act made you cringe – jealousy boiling inside of you, that should be me — she's mine. Blind by your rage you hadn’t noticed that morgan had made her way towards you until you hear

“Hi baby, did you enjoy the game?” is the first thing she says, her eyes sparkling as her breath — shallow and breathy begins returning to its usual state.

“Yeah I did, you did good today.” was all you said in response, your annoyance seeping through your fake smile lying on your face.

Morgan chuckles slightly, grabbing on your arm – pulling you up from your seat. As you guys are walking morgan continues —

“Geno wants me for a conference today so you’ll have to stay a little late today, okay?” not even bothering to answer her you simply hum, ending the conversation there – morgan must know she’s fucked up cause she keeps sneaking glances at you as you walk her to the conference room.

Stopping at the entrance, Morgan lets go of your arm and leans to give you a kiss on the cheek “wish me luck!” she says before stepping away and walking towards Paige and Sarah who were doing the conference alongside her – and walking into the room.

Obviously Morgan wasn’t too worried about how you’d felt just before the conference, because she had spent the entire time giggling, biting and licking her lips at the younger female and male reporters in the room. Answering the questions with flirtatious word choices and using those beautiful brown eyes to her advantage – even making the reporters melt and hot. She knew what she was doing, teasing me, and this wasn’t the first time she’d done it.

Throughout the week I'd been busy, but that didn't stop her from making attempts towards me, in private and in public – and even going as far as trying to make me jealous with her teammates. She was a brat and I wasn’t going to pass up a chance to teach her a lesson.

As soon as she’d finished her interview and walked into my view I grabbed her arm, pulling her towards me as I walked in the direction of the nearest private bathroom. Getting to the bathroom I yanked the door open – pushing her inside before turning around to lock the door.

Her eyes find and follow mine as I turn around to face her – her gaze drops to my lips as she bites her lips, breathing ragged and uneven.

Moving in, I pull her in by the back of her neck, closing the distance between us. Our bodies merge together as we devour each other's lips. Pulling away – my mouth opens slightly

“You’ve been bad mo.” you say, morgan in response attempts to close the gap between us again – letting out huff when I hold her back, stopping her attempt.

“fuck im sorry baby I- I was just..I dont know, please” she pleaded trying to close the gap once again – my hand on her throat stopping her again, the whimper she let out dying on her throat

“You need to learn how to Behave.” you say, slowly leaning it, her breathing heavy – your nose brushing on her neck as you slowly start kissing at her neck, careful not to leave hickeys on her neck seeing as how you guys were still in public. Her breath shaky – panting as you slightly begin mouthing at her neck, your hands finding their way downwards as you untuck her jersey from her shorts – slipping your hands on the material.

You push forward – her back finding the door to the bathroom stall, as her low moans echo throughout the bathroom

“take it off,” you whisper into her ear, signaling to her jersey before backing up to give her the space to do so. She moves forward a bit and then frantically grabs the bottom of her shirt and takes off her shirt – her medium grey sports bra laying underneath “the bra too baby.” you say – breathe heavy as your low, airy voice bounces off the walls of the room – she drops her shirt on the floor before taking her sports bra too and pulling it off, her hair getting even more messy as it slides off her head.

She waits. Standing there as her knees slightly shake and her face flushes harsher. You use two fingers to signal her towards you — her following in response. One of your arms wrapping her waist as her other one settles on her neck, caressing the skin. Looking at her she’s disheveled – lost — already gone in such little time, just waiting for her next demand.

Leaning in again; she moves fast, her lips desperate to meet yours. As the kiss deepens, your hands shift — the one that was lying on her neck moving to her front. Your hand palming her tits — squeezing slightly causing Morgan to gasp into the kiss and tighten her grip on your shirt.

Pulling away – the hand that you have on her waist starts to drift lower, slipping into her shorts and past the band of her underwear — brushing against her, your hand palmed at her tits again.

“Fuck” Morgan says as she tilts her head back, her lips parted and eyes shut tight.

Your fingers begin to move lower, touching — teasing her folds in the process, watching as your finger begin to be covered in her slick.

“baby plea –– fuck!” she shouts, her mouth dropping open as one of your fingers sinks in. Morgan wraps her arms once again around your neck, pulling you even closer to her — the movement causing your fingers to go deeper.

Morgan begins to moan out louder as you slowly start to move your fingers, curling up slightly when you go deeper

“fuck baby don’t stop—” a whimper breaking through — her legs growing weaker.

You stop your movements, slowing slipping out of her

“wait no —” Morgan panics

“it’s okay, just turn around from me, face the mirror mo” you shush her, nodding in her direction

She turns around, facing the mirror. Her eyes meet yours and you both smile in sync,

“take your shorts off” you say, she begins pulling her shorts off but then you add onto your demand “underwear too”, still holding eye contact with the girl.

Morgan reaches her hands so that they can grip onto her shorts and underwear before sliding them down — leaving her fully bare — completely out in the open, allowing you easier access.

You wrap your arms around her again, starting at the top, groping and palming at her tits causing the girl to moan out, then you move lower and lower before you reach your target

Morgan gasps under her breathe as you bring your hands lower, finally touching her folds ( or should I say clit idk) again, her head begins to lean back on your shoulder but you stop her, bringing her head back up,

“Keep staring into the mirror baby, come on” you say — Morgan nodding in agreement, just hoping that you’d stop teasing her and get over with it

her body is shrinking — she’s overwhelmed by the pleasure she’s feeling, the feeling of your hand rubbing her clit, that feeling increasing by 100 when you finally sink into her again, she’s tight — pulling your hand into her and she bites her lips in an attempt to be quieter.

“please move, god please baby” she whines out, desperate for anything — as you begin to move, her moans begin to echo throughout.

You’re practically moaning in her ear, although you couldn’t feel it yourself, the feeling of her squeezing around you — pulling you in, was more than enough. Her back pressing against your front was more than enough, her moving back against your fingers — basically grinding against you.

The bathroom was quiet, no words were being said. All that can be heard was squelching, whimpers and heavy breathing, until —

“shit, i’m so close” Morgan’s voice breaks through the noise as she looks at you through the mirror

“yeah? you gonna come for me baby?” your face in her neck –– returning her gaze, quickening your place, your fingers pistoning in her.

she nods “yeah, I’m gonna come for you” you add a second finger — moving your thumb to her clit, making a circular movement.

“then do it. come for me morgan” you whisper in her ear, sending her over the edge — she lets out a strangled noise, her knees buckling, your arm around her waist being the only thing keeping her from falling.

Nobody talks for the first few seconds, the only noise being the sound of you pulling out from her and both of your ragged breaths.

“Jesus christ, maybe i need to flirt with other people more often” is the first thing morgan says, forcing a laugh from you

“Absolutely not, don’t ever do that again.” you reply– smirking, still meeting her gaze in the now foggy mirror. For awhile you guys completely forget where y’all are, heads turned to kiss each other. That’s until morgan breaks away and says

“shit, how long have we been here? fuckk we need to leave, i'm gonna be in so much shit next practice” she panics, pushing you away to pick up her clothes that've been discarded on the floor earlier.

@kate20martin

[just-dreaming-marvel]

If I Can't Love Her ~ Logan's Version

MAIN MASTERLIST / MARVEL MASTERLIST / MUSICAL INSPIRED FIC MASTERLIST

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Word Count: 800ish

Request: If I Can't Love Her for the musical fics. Logan and reader were together once, but he kinda ruined everything and she left. He was afraid of being open with her, communicating, showing her everything he felt, how much he loved her... and he ended up pushing her away. Now he sees the mistake he made as he watches her being in happy and in love in the arms of another. Sees everything he could've had if he hadn't ruined it all. Sad boi Logan.

Warning(s): basically pure angst

“And in my twisted face

There’s not the slightest trace 

Of anything that even hints of kindness

And from my tortured shape

No comfort, no escape

I see, but deep within is utter blindness.”

It was the fifth night in a row. You knew where Logan was. He spent more time at the local bar than home anymore. Most of the time you would cry yourself to sleep before he got home and then he was gone before you could fully wake. 

Tonight was different. Tonight, you had had enough. A bag was already packed by the door, incase this conversation—confrontation didn’t go how you wished it would. But deep down, you knew the truth. 

“Hopeless

As my dream dies

As the time flies

Love, a lost illusion

Helpless

Unforgiven

Cold and driven

To this sad conclusion.”

“I’m done, Logan.” 

Your words felt like poison in your mouth. Logan was standing near the door, had been since he arrived and the two of you immediately go into it. Tears were pouring down your cheeks. Logan couldn’t look you in the eye until those words left your mouth.

“You clearly don’t want this,” you continued, voice shaking. “So, I’m done.”

Logan kept quiet. His hands clenched into fists as his claws threatened to poke out of his knuckles. You moved over to the door and slung your bag over your shoulder.

“Is this what you really want?” His voice was so rough and quiet, you would have missed it if you weren’t standing so close.

You met his gaze, noticing that his eyes were watering. “It’s never been what I wanted,” you replied. “It’s your choices that let us here.” Then you stepped past him and walked out the door.

“No beauty could move me

No goodness improve me

No power on earth

If I can’t love her

No passion could reach me

No lesson could teach me

How I could have loved her

And make her love me too

If I can’t love her, then who?”

Logan went to the bar every night. He couldn’t allow himself to sleep, especially in the apartment. He only dreamed of you. All his regrets. All his hopes and dreams that he wanted with you, but was too scared to take that leap. Logan knew that it was all his fault. It always was. He was a monster. A disaster. Undeserving of the love you always gave him so freely.

The Wolverine became more reckless on missions, bringing concern to his teammates.

“I’m sorry, Logan,” The Professor said. He had pulled Logan aside to speak with him about the concerns in private. “Until you prove less reckless, you are benched from missions.”

“It’s fine,” Logan’s voice was hollow, had been since you walked out. “I’m done.”

“Logan—“

“Goodbye, Charles.”

“Long ago I should have seen

All the things I could have been

Careless and unthinking, I moved onward.”

It was two years later when he saw you again. You were walking on the other side of the street. He immediately froze at the sight of you. You were still as beautiful as the day he lost you. Maybe even more so since there was a smile on your face. It was pure and stress free. Your laughter echoed in his ears, breaking his heart. You were laughing at something the man with you said. You were hanging off his arm. Logan’s breath caught at the sparkle of the diamond that shone from your left hand.

You were happy. You were engaged or married. You were in love and you were loved. And it wasn’t Logan. It wasn’t him who was making you laugh and smile like he used to. It wasn’t Logan who placed that ring on your finger. Though it should have been. If only he wasn’t constantly getting in the way of his own happiness.

Seeing you happy with someone that wasn’t Logan, brought a deeper pain to him than he had ever known before.

“No pain could be deeper

No life could be cheaper

No point anymore

If I can’t love her

No spirit could win me

No hope left within me

Hope I could have loved her

And that she’d set me free

But it’s not to be

If I can’t love her

Let the world be done with me.”

Logan stayed in his stop as he watched you disappear down the street with the man, completely unaware of who was watching you. As soon as you were out of his sight and your smell couldn’t be picked up by his nose, Logan headed in the opposite direction. He didn’t know or care where, he knew he just needed to leave. To be alone. Because if he couldn’t love you, then his life was pointless.

[zepskies]

Oooh I'm just gonna dive RIGHT in!!

As he impatiently watched a set of doors once more, he pondered if he was still seeing things clearly or if his kooky mind was playing tricks on him. Adjusting to civilian life wasn’t always easy.

Loll I'm loving how you're writing his internal monologue -- matches his quirky personality well. 😂

Ever wondered why there was so much street construction seemingly everywhere and yet America’s roads were still full of potholes? Russell didn’t.

Again, lmao great personality color, and so freakin' relatable!

“Are you fucking insane?” You stormed towards him, shoving his chest. Whoa, broad! Shit, what had he done? Spent more time at the gym? “No, wait, don’t say anything. I already know the answer to that one!” “I’ll second that,” Colter chimed in with a groan and dusted off his jeans.

LOLL. That's so very Colter. 😂

Full disclosure: There might have been a little bit of a plan. Just tiny, really. Not worth mentioning at all.

Riiiiight. Not at all. lol

There had never been a day in your relationship where you had denied that man a thing – till that last day at least.

Ooooh more questions, more questionssss!

“We worked together when we were both stationed in Baghdad. You know how it goes. We met, and a couple of hours later, we were doing it on the kitchen island of some safe house.” Well, alright, that was braggy. There was a lot more going on than that. Best night of his life, really. But Russell considered it classified.

LMAO. Classified, indeed. 😏 Can I hope for one of your legendary flashbacks in the future??

“Oh, not the UFOs again,” Colter sighed with a shake of his head. “It’s UAP, man. U… A… P,” Russell corrected him once again and let the last letter pop from his lips for emphasis.

Get that nomenclature right, Colter. 😂 But omg I love the brotherly teasing -- Russ just HAD to bring up Reenie multiple times, didn't he? It's feeling very much The Misadventures of Russ and Colter, and I'm so here for it. 🤣

“Well, lookey, what do we have here.” Russell’s eyes zoned in on a plate of apple pie, rubbing his palms in delight.

Of COURSE he's an apple pie fan. Love that little Deanism. 🥧

He was hairier than you remembered. That you knew for sure. If you went back even further, he was also a lot broader, too. When you’d met, he was just a kid – as were you. It was only in the last few years of your relationship that he started to gain some serious muscle and really began to fill out his uniform. And all of a sudden, the tall and broad-shouldered soldier became more threatening – and more protective.

Oooh do tell. 😏 But really, it's clear these two have a long history. (Also, not the "midlife crisis beard" 🤣)

But OMG they were married?!!! And why would she send the papers just to get his attention? Good Lord, so many questions...

A part of you thought this day would never come, so maybe Colter being here was indeed a show of good faith and Russell was finally, finally dealing with his shit.

Ahh, makes sense. It tracks that Russ would be hard to pry open, even to someone he loves and has been in such close quarters with him for such a long time. (LOL Denver Airport. 👌🏽)

“I know. But… he kinda was yours too, right?” Russell’s green eyes meeting yours confirmed your statement. “He still talks about you on his good days. God knows you couldn’t throw a football before you met him.” “Hey, that’s not true. I could throw the old pigskin around perfectly fine,” Russell defended.

Just layers and layers of history between these two. It's so sweet to think Russ had a surrogate dad that actually treated him like a normal kid, teaching him how to throw a football, etc.

Fighting the tears in your eyes, you forced a smile to your lips. “He’s good. He’s a sweet boy. Keeps asking questions about his daddy that I don’t know how to answer…” you scoffed humorlessly but decided to forgo the pettiness. It would be so easy to be mad at him, but not even on your darkest days could you do it. “He’s starting school this fall.”

Oh my GODD. They have a son together too?? What the hell happened between them? She left and took their son with her?

He knew if he continued talking about what he’d missed, he wouldn’t make it out of that chicken coop for the next several hours, sobbing uncontrollably in the hay with the hens.

My heart is truly breaking for him, and now I need to know what the hell he did to make her actually leave him, even though they have two kids. 😭😭

True to typical Wayne, this is an intricate cobweb of a story, Russell AND the reader are infinitely complex, and I'm very interested to see where you take this from here. 💜

The Exit Strategy – Part 2

Summary: Russell is ready to hang it all up and retire, open up a brewery, and enjoy the rest of his civilian life. However, there’s one important thing missing before he can take the big plunge. Luckily, he knows just the right person to help him find it.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, minor injuries, a bit of angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, a reunion, more secrets and revelations 😉

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: Guess, the cat's outta the bag! Couldn't reveal too much about the reader beforehand without ruining the surprise now, could I? 🤓 Cozy up in your favorite chair with eggnog. Hope you have some lovely holidays, guys ❤️

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Part 2: This Is a Russell Mission

If Russell hated one thing in this world, it was playing The Waiting Game. The thought of being helplessly stuck inside a car with his hands metaphorically tied behind his back nearly wrecked his sanity. Well, whatever was left of it, anyways.

Colter had a point. Russell knew he could be a little paranoid sometimes, but considering everything he’d seen and done in his life, who could honestly blame him? It was only natural to feel a certain level of paranoia in his particular line of work. It kept him on his toes and, therefore, alive.

But maybe it had nothing to do with the job as he had always told himself. It might have been just a family trait he had inherited. And, well, he hated that fact even more than The Waiting Game.

As he impatiently watched a set of doors once more, he pondered if he was still seeing things clearly or if his kooky mind was playing tricks on him. Adjusting to civilian life wasn’t always easy.

What normal people would see as a perfectly nice, faithful woman picking up mail from the post office, Russell saw as a dead-drop pick-up.

There was a construction crew about three hundred yards to his right that seemed to be on constant break by their lack of work ethic. They also took turns to watch the supermarket closely. Ever wondered why there was so much street construction seemingly everywhere and yet America’s roads were still full of potholes? Russell didn’t.

And then, there was the cashier who handed you a flyer of some sort, which you accepted with a polite smile and stuffed in your purse. Live drop, Russell noted as he watched you walk out of the store hand in hand with your supposed husband.

It was all so abundantly clear to him, he almost couldn’t believe no one else could see it. It certainly worried him that Colter couldn’t.

What if…

What if he was in fact seeing things? Things that weren’t actually there. Ghosts of his past. No drops, live or dead. No secret surveillance in disguises. No fake husband – just a very real one.

Was that even legal? He figured it was under your new identity.

Russell shook the uncomfortable thought out of his mind and concentrated back on you. You stopped short by a row of shopping carts, exchanged a few words with your “husband”, and headed back inside. His little brother, of course, was hot on your tail, following you back in too.

That was when several alarm bells went off in Russell’s body. His head felt like the Liberty Bell on the Fourth of July. Experience told him: If it smelled like an ambush, it usually was.

Jumping into gear, Russell’s gaze snapped to your husband, who not only unloaded the groceries into the trunk of the car but also loaded a pistol and hid it underneath his sweater vest before heading toward the supermarket again.

Russell sprung into action rather quickly then, snatching his own semi-automatic from the glove compartment. Soon enough, he heard two familiar voices flowing out from a back alley behind the main building. There was no doubt in his mind that it was you and Colter.

As he rounded the corner, he had to stifle a laugh once he saw his little brother down on the ground, straddled by your legs. Russell had found himself in similar positions with you, but they had been mostly out of pleasure.

“If it helps, my name is Colter. Colter Sh–”

“Shaw.”

Russell watched as your hold on his brother swayed and shock claimed your expression.

“Hiya, sweetheart,” he greeted your eyes with a cheeky smile as warmth spread through his heart.

Fuck, he had missed you.

“Russell?!”

Your jaw had fully dislodged itself as you slowly got back onto your feet and let go of your prisoner. But the shock of seeing your ex here of all places didn’t last long till it made way for your anger.

“Are you fucking insane?” You stormed towards him, shoving his chest. Whoa, broad! Shit, what had he done? Spent more time at the gym? “No, wait, don’t say anything. I already know the answer to that one!”

“I’ll second that,” Colter chimed in with a groan and dusted off his jeans. He stretched his sore muscles briefly before glaring at his older brother, who only offered him an apologetic smile and a half-assed shrug of one shoulder.

“Did you tell him to follow me?” you asked and pointed an accusatory finger at his younger brother while still glaring daggers at Russell. The similarity between them suddenly struck you, and you cursed yourself for not putting the puzzle pieces together sooner. “What was the plan here, huh?”

“Oh, trust me, he had no plan,” Colter muttered sourly, still recovering from your attack.

Russell clicked his tongue and sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “Look, he’s right. There wasn’t a plan. I just-… I had to see you. But once I did, well… here we are.”

Full disclosure: There might have been a little bit of a plan. Just tiny, really. Not worth mentioning at all.

You scoffed and shook your head. “You, of all people, should know better. You could’ve blown our cover. Months of work down the drain…”

“I think your cover’s still good,” Russell assured you with that same old lazy grin of his that was scarily charming and glanced at your partner. “Might wanna call off the cavalry, though.”

You shared a look with Tom, your partner during this mission.

“I’ll signal them. Clean up here,” he said, unamused, and disappeared back to the parking lot.

“Road crew in front of the store?” was all Russell asked. You confirmed it with a simple nod. Internally, he celebrated his little win. His instincts were still intact.

You exhaled a deep breath and threw your hands up. You had been so incredibly relaxed before that menace of a man waltzed back into your life – with a goddamn wrecking ball, no less. Now, the tension was crawling back into your shoulders.

“Russ, what the hell?”

Your question wasn’t filled with anger, however. You were just exhausted by today’s surprising turn of events. The life of a spy…

And probably the life with Russell, too.

“I know. I know, okay?” Russell held up two placating hands. Large hands. Warm. “Can we just talk? Somewhere… I don’t know.”

With some reservations, you still nodded. “There’s a church picnic at First Presbyterian tomorrow. It starts at one. We can talk there.”

There had never been a day in your relationship where you had denied that man a thing – till that last day at least.

“Church picnic?” Russell cocked a brow but was only met with your glare.

“Don’t mock. Be there,” you told him firmly and walked back inside the building. You still had to buy that damn milk. Covers were complicated to maintain – much like relationships.

Once you were out of sight, Russell let out a long sigh of relief, followed by a laugh of happiness. Step One was done. Only when the high of his meeting with you subsided, did he notice his brother’s exasperation.

Colter threw his hands in the air and stared at his sibling with incredulous eyes. “What the hell, Russell? What was that, man?”

“Right, yeah.” Russell bobbed his head calmly, smacking his lips. He knew he owed Colter an explanation at this stage of the mission.

“So, I’m guessing she’s not an old Army buddy of yours,” the younger Shaw started.

“No, not quite. She’s in the CIA,” Russell explained at last. He couldn’t help the grin. He was sure Colter would laugh about it eventually, too. Well, here was to hoping he would. “We worked together when we were both stationed in Baghdad. You know how it goes. We met, and a couple of hours later, we were doing it on the kitchen island of some safe house.”

Well, alright, that was braggy. There was a lot more going on than that. Best night of his life, really. But Russell considered it classified.

“Romantic,” Colter scoffed with sarcasm lacing his voice. Honestly, a part of him was happy for Russell. Another part, though, was incredibly furious for obvious reasons. “But I’m sorry – you had me stalk a CIA operative? During, what I assume is, some elaborate undercover mission?”

“It’s actually not that elaborate,” Russell quipped with amusement. “You shoulda seen half the things I’ve seen her do, so…”

“Oh, hilarious!” Colter shook his head at his childish brother. “Are you nuts?!”

“I think we’ve already established that,” Russell chuckled.

“You know, if Reenie finds out about this, she’s gonna kill me,” Colter said, and Russell swore his brother seemed close to breaking into a sweat. “Oh, you think this is still funny, huh? Guess who she’s gonna kill right after? You.”

Russell rolled his eyes at the unnecessary theatrics. “She’s not gonna find out unless you tell her, brother.”

With pursed lips, Colter nodded in defeat. “Can’t say I like you a lot right now, Russell.”

His older brother only snorted a laugh in response. “Oh, c’mon!”

“You probably would find it less funny if you had been beaten up by a 5’4” woman,” Colter continued and pressed a hand to his ribcage, wincing. “Yeah, pretty sure she cracked a rib or two…”

“Don’t be a baby. Soldier up! You’re fine.” Russell patted his back roughly and inspected the swelling nose for good measure, causing Colter to groan in pain once more. “And by the way, pretty sure she’s only 5’3”.”

“What?! No! She’s at least… 5’4”, okay? Probably even 5’5”,” Colter argued, following Russell back to the truck.

Russell’s lips rose to a teasing smirk. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself whatever gets you to sleep at night, little brother.”

“I will, thank you,” Colter deadpanned and unlocked the car. “So, you’re gonna go to this church picnic thing tomorrow?”

“Oh, no, not just me. We are going to this church picnic thing tomorrow,” Russell said with a cheeky grin and slid into the passenger seat.

“Well, you know, technically, I’ve already… found her. This is usually where my job ends,” Colter said with a tight smile and popped the key into the ignition.

“Yeah, well, not this time,” Russell replied, chuckling. “This ain’t a Colter mission. This is a Russell mission.”

“Oh, I got that, yeah. Thank you,” Colter said with a laugh that made his bruised ribs ache. “You know, you could’ve at least told me she was in the CIA.”

“Yeah, probably. But this was more fun,” Russell grinned.

“Did you know this whole time this was a clandestine operation?”

Russell sheepishly twitched his shoulders. “Well, not when we first got to town, but once I saw her in that outfit, I had a pretty strong inkling. I’m tellin’ ya, even if she had changed her entire life and personality, there’s no way she would have accepted Jesus Christ as her Lord and savior. I mean, maybe if she suffered a traumatic brain injury…” Russell mused and then grinned. “Or if she got abducted by aliens!”

“Oh, not the UFOs again,” Colter sighed with a shake of his head.

“It’s UAP, man. U… A… P,” Russell corrected him once again and let the last letter pop from his lips for emphasis.

“Uh-huh… Did you even need me for this?” Colter leaned back against his seat and quirked an eyebrow.

“Hell yeah!” Russell assured eagerly before changing course. He dialed his enthusiasm back a little. “Well, honestly, I just needed your op analyst. I could’ve used one of my guys, but then that would’ve flagged it with someone upstairs, so… But c’mon! This was fun, right?”

“I don’t know, Russell. I usually prefer my fun to look a little different,” Colter deadpanned.

“With Reenie?” Russell wagged his eyebrows. The huge smirk on his face spoke volumes.

“Would you stop?!”

“‘Sides, this is nice, isn’t it? Us… hanging out?” Russell’s sly grin then morphed into a much softer and genuine smile.

“I guess, yeah,” Colter reluctantly agreed and shrugged his shoulders. But the tiny smile on his face wasn’t missed by Russell.

“Alright, let’s get some fuel,” Russell announced and playfully slapped his brother’s chest. “I’m starving. We also need to find a place where we can park that Airstream of yours. Maybe get a nice fire going, drink a few…”

“What is this? A sleepover? Did you just invite yourself?” Colter really wasn’t used to family members dropping in like this, but he couldn’t deny that it felt sort of nice, too.

“Yeah, I am. I mean, you didn’t offer. Would’ve been the polite thing, you know, considering I saved your ass last time,” Russell retorted puckishly.

Colter exhaled a humorous breath, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Alright, okay… Consider yourself invited.”

“See? Wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Russell’s nerves leaped through the roof as he set foot onto the church grounds. A part of him expected his boot soles to leave burn marks in their wake on the perfectly green and trimmed lawn, considering his extensive list of sins.

Families, children, couples, and the elderly had all gathered in front of the church. There were picnic tables, blankets, even balloons and a banner. His green eyes, however, landed on the giant buffet, his mouth already beginning to water.

That’s also where he spotted you, handing out cupcakes and slices of pie with a pious smile on your face. Your hair was stuck behind your ears, a headband keeping it tightly in place. Your dress looked the same, only the flower pattern varied, with a tight cardigan around your shoulders that hid any naked skin.

Deceptively innocent, Russell thought, causing his mouth to water for a different reason.

“You okay? You nervous?” Colter checked with a curiously raised brow.

“Nervous? Me? No.” Russell gave a quick shake of his head, but his eyes were transfixed on you. “Gotta admit. That outfit’s doing something to me, though.”

Colter patted his shoulder blade. “Yeah, might wanna keep it in your pants, Russ. Pretty sure you get kicked out for impure thoughts.”

Russell snorted a laugh. “Yeah, probably.”

The Shaw brothers then made their way over to your stand. Russell’s heart thumped louder with every new step he took towards you. And once he was so close he could smell your irresistible perfume, his smile only widened.

You, on the other hand, played your role flawlessly and pretended you didn’t know either brother in front of you. Your brows knit in question, but your devout smile remained the same.

“Gentlemen, how can I help you? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” you said and subtly gestured your head to the pastor next to you.

Russell’s brow raised in understanding. He cleared his throat. “Oh, me and my brother just moved here. Looking for a new church. Heard this is the place,” he stated loud enough for the pastor to hear. “You know, we are very devout Christians. I mean, especially my brother here. If he doesn’t pray at least ten times a day, he gets real cranky.”

Colter threw him a look but decided to play along. “Oh, yeah, I just-… I hate that. Can’t pray enough, right?”

“Amen,” you said with all the sincerity you could muster. On the inside, however, you were bursting with laughter. Leave it to Russell to make you smile brighter than the sun.

“Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place,” the pastor chimed in with a cheerful smile that spelled kumbaya all the way through as he shook the brothers’ hands. “I’m Pastor Jeff. Welcome to our little congregation, folks.”

“God can never have enough sheep, am I right?” Russell quipped and wondered how long you’d already been undercover, playing your dutiful role as a Christian housewife. Five sentences in, and he already was at his limit.

“That’s right!” The pastor grinned broadly. “Please help yourselves to our delicious buffet.”

“Well, lookey, what do we have here.” Russell’s eyes zoned in on a plate of apple pie, rubbing his palms in delight.

“Oh, you have to try the pie,” the pastor eagerly suggested and put an arm around your shoulders. “Our Nora here is an excellent baker. Her desserts are a real trend in our community. It is downright sinful. But shhhh, don’t tell the big man upstairs.”

“Secret’s safe with me, pastor,” Russell grinned slyly before meeting your eyes for the briefest second. “Say, do you do marriage counseling too?”

The glare you shot him had enough power to kill him from afar. You might as well have ordered a missile strike on him.

“Oh, my, yes, of course!” the pastor eagerly replied, causing your frown to deepen. “Are you married? Having a little trouble with the missus?”

“You could say that,” Russell earnestly played along and propped up his hands on his hips. “Everything was going fine, you know? And then one morning, just whoosh, gone. No explanation, no letter, no anonymous call from a pay phone…”

“Wow…” The pastor was stunned and enthralled by Russell’s colorful storytelling at the same time. You weren’t, however.

“Well, I’m so sorry to hear that,” you feigned your sympathies with tight lips and a fierce glare at your former lover. “But you know what they say, the Lord giveth and he taketh away…”

“You know, Nora here is right. Our Lord does work in mysterious ways,” the pastor chimed in agreement.

“Amen, Pastor Jeff,” you said, smiling contentiously. “Do you have any idea why your wife left?”

“Oh, I’m afraid she’s as mysterious as the Lord,” Russell replied.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you forced a tight smile. “I don’t mean to overstep, but it sounds like someone was having a little trouble with commitment.”

“It does,” Pastor Jeff agreed. “Why do you think that is?”

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Russell’s head bobbed, his tongue poking the insides of his cheeks. He was definitely feeling a spotlight on him. Even Colter seemed to curiously lean in. Then, the oldest Shaw clicked his tongue. “Rough childhood.”

Amused, Colter scoffed under his breath behind him. “You could say that.”

“Oh no.” The pastor sent the brothers a pitying look and turned his attention to the younger Shaw. “And what do you do?”

“Oh, uh… Well, before I moved in with my brother here, I lived in a trailer and traveled all over the country.”

“Sounds… lonely,” Pastor Jeff stated worriedly.

“Yeah, this one is a big lone wolf. He has commitment issues too,” Russell replied, earning him a scolding look from his brother.

“Uh, I don’t think we need to overshare, Russ.” Colter gave an awkward smile, turning to you and Pastor Jeff. “He’s kidding. I don’t have commitment issues.”

“It’s a sin to lie, Colter,” Russ noted. His tone was serious, but the twinkle in his green eyes was impish.

“What happened to your face there?” The pastor cocked his head and inspected the younger Shaw’s injuries.

Oof, he looked rough. The skin under his eyes and bridge of his nose were swollen and bruised, ranging in color from blue, purple to black. A thin burgundy line also graced his throat. You had done quite a number on him.

You should kick Russell’s ass for setting you both up like this. Who would do this to their little brother?

“Uh, you know, moving boxes…” Colter stammered with a shift of his weight from one foot to the other, pursing his lips.

Russell was a better liar than him, you noted.

“Yup, walked straight into one of those wood planks,” Russell added, oozing just the right amount of charm and humor to wrap the pastor around his finger. “Tiny thing, honestly, but still got him good.”

Oh, he was so proud of that too, you could tell. He smirked right at you. Well, they were both terrible liars.

“Not that tiny. Big, big plank,” Colter corrected. Apparently, you had bruised his ego, too. “Lucky to be alive, really.”

Yeah, he really was.

“Well, speaking of taking things away, I still have to get the eggs from the chickens,” you said, segueing the conversation to an exit strategy. “Excuse me.”

“Oh, you have chickens here?” Russell enthusiastically slapped Colter’s arm. “Did you hear that? They have chickens.”

“Yeah, uh, very exciting,” Colter said, subtly clearing his throat.

“We’ve always wanted chickens,” Russell clarified for the pastor, joining you by your side as you rounded the table. It wasn’t true, though. The brothers actually had a chicken coop at the cabin when they were kids and hated it. The hens were noisy, the rooster was the worst, and it was always a mess to clean up. “I love those clucking little buggers. And now that we have a big backyard… Mind if I come along and check out your setup?”

“Not at all,” you replied with a friendly smile.

“Great. Be right back,” Russell told his brother, hurrying after you before he eloquently made a U-turn back to the stand and grabbed a plate of pie.

“Take your time,” Colter said through a pressed smile, although he wondered how long he’d be stuck here for with the pastor and your fake husband.

“Clear,” you said and held the creaking wooden door of the coop open for Russell to follow inside. As soon as it fell shut behind you two, you crossed your arms. “Okay, talk.”

“What? Here? Now?” With squinted eyes and a cocked brow, Russell looked around the small and dark space full of farm fowl, hay, and feathers.

You threw your arms up in exasperation. “You said you wanted to talk, so talk. What’s wrong with this place?”

“Nothing,” Russell said timidly and swallowed. He scratched the back of his neck. “You know, I just imagined this conversation a thousand times in my head, and it never happened in a chicken coop on church grounds.”

“Adorable,” you commented unamused, your brow knitting even more.

“All I’m sayin’ is, this just takes some time gettin’ used to…”

“Get used to it faster.”

Russell sighed. Then you did.

You softened your stance, crossed arms falling freely to your sides. “I’ve missed you,” you said earnestly and gifted him a small smile, taking in his changed appearance for the first time in detail.

He was hairier than you remembered. That you knew for sure. If you went back even further, he was also a lot broader, too. When you’d met, he was just a kid – as were you. It was only in the last few years of your relationship that he started to gain some serious muscle and really began to fill out his uniform. And all of a sudden, the tall and broad-shouldered soldier became more threatening – and more protective.

Now, clean-shaven, young, somewhat naive, and rule-following was replaced by a rebellious, midlife-crisis beard and the matching hair.

Ah, the t-shirt… Mötley Crüe. He found that thing eleven years ago at a thrift store in Arizona. It had a (bullet) hole on the left side of his lower back that you had patched – thrice. Once even with teething floss in a tent.

“How have you been?”

Russell’s head bobbed. He shrugged. “So-so.” Then he smiled. Soft and warm. The first few rays of sunshine on frozen winter skin. “I’ve missed you, too.” Then, the smile disappeared from his lips, replaced by contempt. “Got your divorce papers. Not signing them, by the way.”

“Good.” You smiled weakly. “I didn’t want you to sign them. I just sent them to get your attention.”

The relief that surged through Russell’s body was ineffable. For months, he thought he’d lost you – that you’d finally given up on him for good.

“How’s the new job working out?”

Russell’s lips drew a smirk, flirtatious charm glimmering in his forest green eyes. “What, you keeping tabs on me, sweetheart?”

You matched his expression. “Who do you think recommended you, huh?”

Russell stumped for a beat. His lips pursed, eyebrows drawing into a wondering v. “Well, they said someone did. Just didn’t think it was you.”

All this time, he’d believed you had crossed him out of your mind with a red pen as soon as you’d walked out the door that very morning.

“I told you. I’ll always look out for you,” you replied simply, a caring smile dancing on your lips. “So? Did it help? Are you any closer?”

“Yeah, guess so…” He paused for a moment, his gaze focused on the tips of his boots as he thought. “Not sure it was worth it, though. Actually, I’m fucking sure it wasn’t.”

You exhaled a long breath. You knew this day would come eventually. You knew he’d come back for you. Granted, you had expected him on your goddamn doorstep years ago, but he never showed. Sending divorce papers was a last resort in hopes he’d wake up then. That had been nine months ago.

“Why are you here, Russ?”

“Things have changed.”

Ah. That made things perfectly clear.

Lifting a brow, you crossed your arms again. “Is that why you brought your little brother along? As a show of good faith?”

“Kinda.”

“Poor Colter… How’s his nose?”

Russell wiped your sincere concerns away with a shrug. “He’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it. Just a scratch.”

Just a scratch…

“It’s weird… seeing you two together,” you said. For more than fifteen years, you had wondered. A part of you thought this day would never come, so maybe Colter being here was indeed a show of good faith and Russell was finally, finally dealing with his shit.

That man could easily fill the Denver airport with his baggage.

“You look good,” you noted. You were trained to control your heartbeat, but he had always made your job harder. “Different.”

His fingers brushed his beard as if to emphasize the newness. “Yeah? You like it?”

“Well, uhm, I don’t hate it,” you said rather coyly. Did you want to give him a win? No. But if he stepped any closer, you would falter. Your cheeks blushed as the tip of your shoe drew circles in the sandy ground. Why did your ears suddenly feel so hot?

Russell smiled as heat crept to his cheeks as well. “Your new look is somethin’, too.”

“God, shut up.” You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“Oh, I don’t think you’re allowed to take the Lord’s name in vain here,” Russell teased. “Don’t let good Pastor Jeff hear ya.”

You laughed, scoffing. “I hate that man.”

“Pastor Jeff? I can tell,” Russell chuckled in amusement and finally stuffed his face with the first bite of pie, chewing a mouthful as he spoke. “But c’mon, he ain’t half bad.”

“Really? You don’t wanna shoot yourself after spending five minutes with him? ‘Cause I do. And it’s been months for me,” you said. “You don’t know what that man does in his office.”

“You bugged his office?”

“And the confession booth. Two words: game changer,” you said, wide-eyed. Russell whistled lowly. You narrowed your eyes at the half-eaten plate in his hands and the pie crumbs in his beard. You raised a scolding brow. “Did you really have to bring the pie?”

“Do you even know me at all? Of course I did.” Russell then shoved the last bite into his mouth to prove his petulant point. “Did you actually bake this?”

In expectant offense, you stepped back a little, crossing your arms again. “Why?”

“‘Cause it’s good.”

“Do you even know me at all? What d’you think?”

“Thought so.” Russell gave a shrug of his shoulders. “The first bite of this didn’t give me immediate food poisoning.”

“Fuck you. I’m a great cook,” you huffed but couldn’t help the grin on your face. You had missed this – the bickering, the bantering, the fun. And Russell, the sly asshole, knew that, judging by his own smirk.

“There’s a lot of reasons why I love you, but your cooking skills ain’t one of ‘em, sweetheart,” he quipped.

“I’ll use you as shooting practice, Shaw,” you threatened playfully. Russell laughed, but it sounded more secretive than a laugh about a joke. “What?”

Russell’s eyes found yours. “Nothing. This is nice, right? We slid right back into it. Like the last three years never happened.”

“Russ…” You sighed, your heart hurting. For you, they happened.

“Just saying it was easy. That’s all,” he said with placating hands. “How’s the family? How’s your dad?”

That caused you to suck in a breath. You had wondered when he would finally dare to ask. You knew this was the real reason why he was here. “Dave finally married Jill last spring. It was a nice wedding. Florence, Italy. Got to wear a sun hat.”

“That’s good.” Russell smiled softly, although it stung that he wasn’t invited. He had always imagined he would be, once your brother popped the question to his longtime girlfriend. After all, Russell was the one who introduced the couple in the first place.

“They wanted to do it sooner, but because of the pandemic…”

“They shoulda done it ten years ago. I kept telling him to lock it down,” Russell quipped, the irony not entirely lost on him. He knew even if something was locked down, didn’t necessarily mean it would stay forever.

“You did,” you remembered with a fond smile. “They wanted you there,” you added, noticing his saddened expression. “It’s just-…”

“No, I know. Don’t worry about it,” Russell brushed it off with all the coolness he could muster at that moment.

“Russ…”

“I said it’s fine,” he repeated and forced another smile. “So, how’s the old man?”

Silently, you bit your lip and sent him a look that spoke volumes.

“Uh-oh. That bad, huh?”

“It’s the reason why I moved back here. To be closer… As close as I can be with this job. Figured it was best for everyone,” you explained. “In the beginning, he had a lot of good days, you know? Now they just all seem… bad.”

“Yeah… I’m sorry,” Russell replied, dumping his empty plate by the chickens. He stepped closer.

Uh-oh. Now, you were in trouble.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Russell’s brow jumped up. “What are you sorry for? It’s your dad.”

“I know. But… he kinda was yours too, right?” Russell’s green eyes meeting yours confirmed your statement. “He still talks about you on his good days. God knows you couldn’t throw a football before you met him.”

“Hey, that’s not true. I could throw the old pigskin around perfectly fine,” Russell defended.

You snorted. “You could not,” you argued with a teasing smile. “You knew how to kill sweet little forest critters and turn your pee into drinking water. But you did not know how to throw a damn ball.”

“You’re never letting the pee thing go, are you?”

You shrugged. “It was a very memorable trip.”

Russell laughed at that. Then the melancholic sadness returned to his face. “How’s-, uhm, how’s Lewis?”

He’d made it through the list of your relatives, finishing with the most important one. And it stung so unbearably much it broke your heart for him. But in the end, you knew he’d done it to himself.

Fighting the tears in your eyes, you forced a smile to your lips. “He’s good. He’s a sweet boy. Keeps asking questions about his daddy that I don’t know how to answer…” you scoffed humorlessly but decided to forgo the pettiness. It would be so easy to be mad at him, but not even on your darkest days could you do it. “He’s starting school this fall.”

“School, huh?” Russell huffed a devastating chuckle, the tears brimming in his eyes as the lump in his throat only grew. “Shit…”

It was getting to him, you could see, and he hadn’t expected that it would. Knowing Russell, he probably figured he could push through the pain and be fine. But he had never really been fine since the day you met him – and he wasn’t this time either as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to blink the tears away, and turned his back to you with a hand clasped over his mouth.

“Should I stop?”

It felt like you were torturing him with a cruel new method of some PsyOp. Even if you had cursed this man for the past three years, your heart refused to see him hurt.

But Russell shook his head, finding your eyes again. He offered you a weak smile. “No, uh, don’t. Just tell me something about him, okay? I’m fine. Please.”

Sighing, you nodded in acceptance. “When my dad was better, he and Dave would take him fishing a lot. He loved it. He’s in his ‘backyard adventures’ phase,” you said, giggling softly. “He’s catching frogs and releasing them in the house. Never imagined I’d wake up with an amphibian on my head. It’s been a delightful experience.”

Russell laughed, but it was feeble at best. “I can imagine…”

And I can’t imagine I missed it all, he thought self-punishingly. But the hard part still hadn’t come yet.

“And, uhm…” Russell wrung for words, taking a deep breath. “How’s the baby? Is it–”

“She,” you stated, watching him swallow upon your correction. “Her name’s Amelia. She turned two in April.”

“Huh, girl…” His heart beat faster, grew bigger, and painfully yearned. His feet trembled to get home, wherever that was, and see them, but he knew he couldn’t. It wasn’t so easy, after all. “Guess I was right…” he said with a sad smile.

You had been sure you’d have another boy. However, Russell had bet you ten meatball subs – your craving at the time – that it wasn’t.

“What happened to Ann? Thought that’s the name we picked,” Russell teased in hopes of lightening the mood.

“Yeah, well, if you wanted a say, maybe you should’ve been there…” you retorted.

Russell should’ve known winning you over wouldn’t be as simple as spelling the ABC.

“You’re the one who left,” Russell muttered finger-pointing-ly under his breath.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know why,” you bit glaringly.

Russell swallowed lightly, nodding. “You’re right. I do. I’m sorry.” Pausing, his eyes glanced around the coop before he gestured with a hand at your outfit, looking you up and down. “So, speaking of the kids, what’s going on here? Thought you were done with the deep-covers,” he changed the subject with a clear of his throat.

He knew if he continued talking about what he’d missed, he wouldn’t make it out of that chicken coop for the next several hours, sobbing uncontrollably in the hay with the hens.

“I was. Had a desk job. Kinda…” A desk job in the CIA still never really was a desk job. “I was station chief in Paris.”

“Paris, huh? Fancy,” Russell said, but the joke didn’t reach the crinkles around his eyes.

“It’s the job I took after I left. We only moved back to the States in the beginning of the year,” you explained. “The kids loved it there, though. Lewis still gets a craving for crêpes every once in a while.”

Russell chuckled, even though every story added another bruise to his heart.

“Anyways, I got a job at Langley. Desk. Bought a house not too far from here, actually. It’s nice. Got a big backyard. Even bigger oak tree,” you told him with a smile. “Lewis wants me to build him a treehouse, but I’m not sure I can swing it.”

“I could help,” Russell offered, trying to keep his eagerness at bay when truly all he wanted was to race there and build the damn thing now. “I mean, if I can come by sometime…”

Your heart sank. “You can always come home. You always could, Russ.”

Home.

That four-letter word filled him with so much warmth and longing it brought back the tears in his eyes.

“So, uhm, why are you here and not there then?” This time, he switched the topic because he would’ve kissed you if he hadn’t. “You running a sting on the pastor or…?”

“One of his sheep.”

“Ah.” Russell nodded. “Need any help?”

“From you and Colter?”

“Yeah.”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh, c’mon, just lemme help. The faster you get this done and over with, the sooner you can stop clutching your fake pearls and get home to the kids,” Russell reasoned.

You sighed, knowing he was partially right. You did hate your disguise as much as you hated the annoyingly nosy pastor. Moreover, you missed your children a fucking lot. It had already been three months. Fall was coming soon, and you had promised your son you’d be home by his first day of school.

“C’mon, how did they lure you back in, huh? Who’s the naughty little sheep you’re working?”

“Can’t talk about this here,” you told him, automatically lowering your voice. It was hard to remember who you were right now, when what you were used to be was standing right in front of you.

Russell quirked a brow. “Did you bug the coop, too?”

“No, the pastor’s scared of the chickens, which is why I didn’t bother. But you never know if someone else isn’t listening. We’ve already shared too much. We shouldn’t do this here,” you insisted, and Russell nodded in agreement. He knew the dangers as well as you did.

“Then where?”

You exhaled a deep breath and thought for a moment. You wanted to see him again. You knew he didn’t just come find you to catch up and then leave again.

“Come by the house tonight. Make it look natural. I’ll invite you guys to dinner as a sort of friendly welcome wagon to the neighborhood. The pastor is gonna buy it in a heartbeat. Just give me a good reason to invite you over.”

Russell nodded in understanding. “Alright.”

Part 3: This Is a Heart-To-Heart – SOON 💚

Welp, seems like Russell omitted having a wife and two kids... 🙈😂

I'll post the next part in the beginning of the new year or straight after Polaris has finished. We'll see ☺️

Enjoy the rest of your holidays, loves! Can't wait to read your comments on this one 😉🤍

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[plo-koons-favorite-padawan]

Last line challenge from @biscuityskies

Actually putting two snippets in here. As a treat! I'm not sure who to tag so you can consider this your invite to post anything you want!

From my Codywan fic (on my extended Clone Wars timeline AU—this is year 7):

The journey to Moraband saw the revival of the 212th hull-ball tournaments. Cody watched Wooley lead Team Bridge Command against Team Parjai, who were the undefeated champions, in the opening rounds. Five days in, Team MedSurg upset Team Bomb Squad in the day’s quarter-finals. Cody, as the highest authority on the rules by which the game is played, found himself adjudicating point disputes. He started using his HUD to give him an action-replay to analyze particularly close calls. Watchdog acted as a second pair of eyes when necessary.  Obi-Wan commed him every night. He filled Cody in on details of his Temple life. He had been mobbed by Jedi Initiates that morning in one of the meditation halls. He was spending more time teaching. He was thinking about taking another Padawan, after the war. They spoke in code about information not available in reports: Vos was alive. Fox had eaten a meal that day. The full journey took three weeks. By the end, Parjai were still undefeated, and most of the men had moved on to gambling at cards. Vos was still alive. Fox was going for a lot of long runs.  Cody had decided somewhere around year two of the war that ferruginous planets were his least favorite. The reddish, oxidized soil rubbed into armor or mixed with sweat on skin always looked like blood. It took days to polish the red scuffs out, and that was after the actual blood was all washed away. Obi-Wan had told him that Moraband used to be known as Korriban, that it was the homeworld of the ancient Sith race. Cody was not sure what else he could have expected, other than this blood-colored mess of mountain ranges and sandstorms that vomited hundreds of thousands of battle droids into the galaxy each week. Watchdog stood with him on the bridge, looking out at the rotation of the planet as the atmo transports were prepared.  “Ugly fucking thing, isn’t it?” he asked. Cody hummed in agreement, hands folded behind his back. “First wave leaves in fifteen. Figured you’d want to be on it.” “Thank you, Watchdog. Keep everything locked down up here,” Cody said, nodding to him. “You have the bridge.” Watchdog saluted.  In the lift, Cody sent a typed message to Obi-Wan’s comm. Landing soon. Will report tonight. The doors opened to a rush of astromechs and GNK droids. Mechanics, pilots, and troopers flowed along walkways and into larties, into Nu-Class shuttles, and smaller fighters.  Moraband did not get any prettier when they got closer to the surface. Breaking atmo revealed hideously jagged mountain ridges. The droid foundry was ten heavily-armed kilometers from the drop zone. Cody was not looking forward to the trek.  He never got that far.  He was glad that he was wearing his jetpack, because when the first round of anti-air artillery hit the LAAT, he had less than two seconds to react to the gaping hole in the hull, to the sudden absence of eight other troopers, to the breach alarms wailing, before the next blast hit. He grabbed two of the other men and leapt out the side of the ship. His jetpack was not designed for this heavy of a lift, and they were falling too fast. The propulsion was sputtering; the explosion of the ship above them hailed flaming debris and blasted them towards the surface of the planet. His comms were screeching in his ears as fighter pilots scrambled to support. The ground was coming too fast. One of the men, Quarter, was shouting to drop him so that he could save himself and the other man, Piecemeal. He started to beat on Cody’s wrist, but Cody held on. The ground was coming too fast. Cody’s jetpack sputtered out, and they fell the remaining one-hundred and sixty feet to the surface of the planet. Cody went out on impact.

From my QuinFox fic (same timeline, this is year 1):

Fox’s office was empty when he opened the door. It was empty when he tugged his helmet off and set it on the shelf by the door. It was empty when he keyed the door closed and locked. It was not empty when he turned around.  “So,” said the man leaning against Fox’s desk. “Pretty interested in Kenobi, hm?” He had a lightsaber clipped to his belt. The gold tattoo across his nose and cheeks flashed in the light.  Fox had a hand on his blaster. “Don’t move,” he warned.  The man raised his hands. “I come with peace in my heart and curiosity in my mind. You’re a great slicer, for what it’s worth. Took me forever to figure out that it was you.” “That what was me?” Fox was grinding his teeth. His right hand was itching. “You pulled Obi-Wan’s records. Don’t totally understand why you covered your tracks so thoroughly, though. That’s what I want to know.” He stepped forward, hands still raised. “It’s not like you were breaking any regs. What gives?” “Get out of my fucking office,” Fox snarled. “Ooh, you’re mean,” the man said, smiling at him. Fox stepped back and adjusted the grip on his blaster. “I like that in a guy.” Fox knew he was blushing. Idiot.  “And shy, how charming.” The man had crossed his arms. He had a matching gold tattoo on his bicep.  Fox called to mind the standard punishment for murdering a superior—firing squad—and weighed his options. “How did you get in here?” “Oh, it’s a fun trick. But if I explain it, it’ll ruin the fun.” “I’m not very interested in fun,” Fox retorted. “Somehow I don’t think that’s true,” the man said. “But if you insist…” He vanished. “Fuck,” Fox whispered, followed by a much louder, “Fuck!” when the man reappeared inches from his face.  “Part of the job,” the man said, smirking at him and not the least bit uncomfortable being within striking distance. Fox swallowed. “You’re a Shadow?” The man nodded, spreading his arms.“Quinlan Vos, at your service. No need for any formalities—I’m not technically a member of the GAR.” “Fox.” “So, back to my original question. Why so interested in my friend Obi-Wan?” “I think you probably already know. Why come if you know who I got them for?” “You caught me,” Vos said, smiling. He had a small gap between his front teeth. “I know you got those records for your batchmate, who they call Kote.” “Cody,” Fox snapped. “Cody, sorry. He wouldn’t have had access to those without going through Obi-Wan. You don’t have a Jedi overseeing you,” Vos said. “So you can get any records you want.” Fox raised his eyebrows. “I fail to see how any of this warrants sneaking into my office.” “Well, this was more for fun,” Vos admitted.  “You have a strange definition of ‘fun,’” Fox said, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. “And you don’t?” Vos had one eyebrow raised. “Well, you’ve had your fun,” Fox said. “So, now you can get out.”

[finehs]

Are we getting an update on Superstore au soon? 🥹❤️

Hopefully by Friday! We're nearing the end of the school year and all my time last week got taken by working the concession stand late for our track & field program. Getting home at 10pm every night was not the move, add in state testing and last week was funnnnn. But we're winding down and my goal is to have this fic done by the end of May so we'll see how it goes.

[s0dium]

I fucking hate him

A/n: One of the dialogues is lightly taken from "God of Ruin" by Rina Kentaken (plz check it out) Enjoy!!

Word count: 3.5k

Synopsis: You detest Yuji's uncle, Sukuna. His demeanor is rude and abrasive, and he is undoubtedly a sadist. You don't even try to hide your disdain, but the more you try to distance yourself from him, the stronger his opposition grows. Each attempt to push him away only seems to draw him in closer, closer, ever so close.

"You're fucking insufferable," you spat, your eyes narrowing with hatred. "You're pretentious," Sukuna shot back, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth." No, you're a narcissist," you hiss" Yeah, but I turn you on," he purrs

Warning: Hate sex, rough sex, biting, fingering, edging, cowgirl, size kink, breeding, unprotected sex, slight voyeurism, breeding

You remember the day you met Sukuna for the first time like it was yesterday.

It was during the somber occasion of Wasuke Itadori's funeral—Yuji's beloved grandfather. The day was draped in a heavy sorrow; after the ceremony and the lowering of the casket, you followed the Itadori family back to their home. Being practically family yourself, and living just next door, it felt natural to join them and if not grieve, support the grieving family alongside them. While everyone gathered in the garden, sharing hushed memories and quiet support, you slipped inside the house to charge your phone.

As you stepped into the room, the air felt suddenly charged, like the prelude to a storm. There in the living room, was a man, a large man, lounging on one of the sofas dressed in a black suit and tie. The first thing you notice is his striking pink hair contrasting sharply with the dark, intricate tattoos that crawl up his neck and frame his face. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, fix on you the moment you enter, and his smirk is like a crack in a mask of indifference.

"You must be the famous dear friend of the family, Y/n right?" he drawls, his voice as smooth as silk and just as dangerous. "Heard a lot about you. All good things, I promise." His voice drips with sarcasm making you thickly gulp.

You hesitate by the doorway, your initial smile freezing on your lips. This was the Sukuna Ryomen? The man you'd heard only in hushed conversations between Jin and Choso, the man Yuji calls his uncle? You try to muster your composure, crossing the room to stand at a respectable distance.

"I wish I could say the same," you reply, aiming for polite but firm. Your voice wavers just slightly.

Sukuna chuckles, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. "Oh, come now. No need for such defenses. I'm not the monster they painted in their tales. Or perhaps I am, and that's what intrigues you? What do you think so far" he bends forward. "Am I intriguing?"

You bristle at his words, the arrogance dripping from each syllable like poison. "I-I dont know about that." You curse yourself at the way your voice comes out as a stutter. "I'm here out of respect for your family."

"Respect," he repeats, tasting the word as if it's something exotic. "Funny, I never put much stock in that. The old man sure tried to teach me, shame he is gone. But perhaps you'll teach me its value?"

What the hell does he mean by that?

He stands suddenly, closing the distance between you with a few measured steps. You can’t help but step back, your back hitting the wall. His presence is overwhelming, suffocating.

"Why so tense?" Sukuna teases, leaning close, his breath ghosting over your cheek. "I'm just trying to get to know you better. After all, anyone who loves my family must have some redeeming qualities, hidden though they may be. Although," he tilts his head, as if analyzing you. "I wouldn't be surprised if they just kept you around cause you're a pretty thing to look at."

You feel a flush of anger and embarrassment heating your cheeks. "I think you've gotten to know enough for one day," you snap, ducking under his arm and striding toward the door. His laughter follows you, low and mocking.

"Oh, don't be like that!" he calls out. "We're just getting started!"

It only took a minute. One minute for you to decide that you hated Sukuna with a fucking passion.

Unfortunately, the fact that Sukuna had just gotten out of jail, did nothing to hamper your hatred. It seemed like ever since he got out, he was not only determined to stick to the family, but to you, like glue.

The Friday night dinners with the Itadori family, once cherished and loved, had practically turned into a battleground. What used to be a warm gathering was now filled with endless teasing and arrogant attempts at flirting. You were even hesitant to stay over now, as you were never to sure when you’d turn a corner and there Sukuna would be with some sleazy remark about your pajamas.

You tried talking to the Itadori family about it, tried complaining to Jin and raise your concerns. And as receptive and understanding as they were, you knew that for them, blood was thicker than anything, and in some part, you knew that applied to you too.

Still, you persisted, even now as you sat at another Friday dinner you were determined to just enjoy yourself with the family you loved so much.

Key word, tried.

"Well, Jin, I must say, this food is... quaint.” He says through a chuckle and you have to bite the inside of your cheek from throwing a fork at him right there and then. “Did you burn it on purpose, or was that just a happy accident?"

"Dude," You breathe a sigh of relief when Choso speaks up, his voice calm but firm. "Can you go one day without being a jerk?" His eyes are fixed on Sukuna, echoing the frustration you both share about his behavior. This solidarity is one of the reasons why you feel closest to Choso in the family. His understanding and shared grievances with the insufferable man were one of the reasons why you two were best friends.

"Please, I bet this food beats anything you had in prison." You whisper under your breath, but audibly enough that others catch it when you hear Choso breathe through his nose in a laugh-like snort.

Sukuna sets down his silverware and leans forward with a grin, his eyebrows raised in amusement as he gazes across the table at you. "Oh, someone's got a sharp tongue," he remarks. "Careful, angel, you might cut yourself."

You roll your eyes and sharply cross your arms. "Funny, coming from someone who probably had to beg for scraps behind bars. Do you even know what real food tastes like?"

You don’t miss the way Yuji chokes on his pasta, stifling back laughter making you smile.

Sukuna's lips curve into a sly smirk as he locks eyes with you. "Oh trust me, I've tasted a lot of things. But I guess you wouldn't understand, being so... sheltered."

Unfazed, you shoot back with a dismissive wave of your hand, "Sheltered? Please. At least I don’t need to rely on prison slop to remind me of home."

This time, Sukuna's response is a silent, piercing stare that makes you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Even though you were wearing a sweater and shorts, his gaze made you feel like you were naked.

From the corner, Jin clears his throat, chuckling nervously. "Um, maybe we should all just calm down a bit—"

You cut him off, your voice firm as you defend the meal laid out before you. “No way, not when he disrespects your food, which is great, may I add.”

"Oh, I love it when you get all fired up." Sukuna's eyes glint with mischief as he watches your rising frustration. "It's adorable."

Feeling the heat rush to your cheeks, you stand up abruptly, pushing your chair back with a scrape. "Excuse me, I think I'm full," you declare crisply, gathering your dishes with a clatter and storming off to the kitchen to dump them in the sink. Without a backward glance, you stride toward the living room, your footsteps echoing your irritation.

"Come on, why do you always gotta be such an ass, Uncle?" Yuji mumbles, shooting a glare at Sukuna who only responds with a shrug.

As you sank into the couch cushions, you let out a deep sigh of relief, your body sinking into the familiar comfort of your favorite spot. You turned on the TV, dazedly watching whatever was on, trying to distract yourself from the day's tensions. Of course, thoughts of Sukuna kept creeping into your mind. What was his problem with you? Did the man get dropped on the head as a baby? How and the hell were he and Jin brothers?? Surely he was the result of some fucked up science experiment.

Engulfed in your thoughts, the passage of time slipped unnoticed until a shift in the couch's cushion snapped you back to reality. You turned, and -

Oh what the fuck.

Sukuna settled next to you, leaning on the armrest of the other side of the couch, a tattooed hand settled on his thigh, He had changed into a white tank top and sweatpants, and you feel your heart jump when your eyes unconsciously travel to between his leg where a slight budge pressed against the fabric. Shit. The tips of your ears turned red and you bit the inside of your cheek. That's another thing you loathed about Sukuna; how the scent of his old spice shampoo made you dizzy, how the way he towered over you made your breathing stop, how despite how fucking insufferable he was, he was so so so attractive.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you choked out, your tone edged with disbelief and irritation.

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "What does it look like? Watching TV," he replied coolly, his eyes briefly scanning the screen before settling back on you. "Everyone's gone to sleep, you know."

"No, what are you doing sitting next to me?" you hissed, the proximity suddenly feeling far too close despite the physical distance. Your eyes narrowed, locking onto his vermillion eyes.

"Why you afraid I'll bite?" He says, gnashing his teeth together in a teasing display before moving closer to you. "Don't worry, I only bite when I'm asked."

"S-stop talking to me like that," you say, trying to shuffle back, but find yourself already trapped against the armrest.

"Like what?" Sukuna's voice is teasing, almost playful.

"Like I'm your toy."

He tilts his head slightly and leans forward, a smirk playing at his lips. "More like my doll."

"More like your grim reaper. I'll slice your throat if you touch me," you retort sharply, the tension between you crackling. You watch the way his eyes rake over you like a porn magazine, making you cross your arms as if to shield yourself.

He laughs, a sound rich with amusement. "You're such a menace. I want to gobble you up."

As he inches closer, the scent of his shampoo fills the air—a fragrance so intoxicating you want to bury your nose in it, yet you resist. "I'll give you indigestion, asshole," you snap, trying to maintain your composure.

"Worth it, muse," he counters smoothly, his eyes locking onto yours.

"Sure you're going to be thinking about that when I punch you in the face?"

"Oh, and make me bleed? Blood?" He licks his lips. "Yum." He feigns shock, leaning even closer. "You just keep ticking all my boxes today. Did you do your research on me?"

"Not even if you were the last man alive," you choke out, his proximity overwhelming, his face just inches from yours now. A slight move, and your noses would brush against each other.

"Last man to everyone else? No. To you? Highly likely." His whisper is a taunt, his breath a warm tease against your skin.

That's it.

As you attempt to rise from the couch, Sukuna's large hand swiftly lands on your thigh, pressing just firmly enough to guide you back down onto the cushion. You react instinctively, trying to swat his hand away, but he's quicker; he catches both of your wrists in his grasp, holding them gently yet with an unyielding firmness.

"What the hell are you doing?" you demand, your voice sharp with alarm and a flare of anger, your eyes locked intensely on his, searching for an explanation in his steady gaze.

"Jesus christ Y/n" Sukuna groans, rolling his eyes, "How long are we going to keep this thing of ours going?"

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Our thing? What thing?”

“The thing where we act like we hate each other but actually want to fuck the brains out of each other.” He chuckles.

Your eyes widen and you feel your face grow deathly hot. You try to step back, and get some space, some room to breathe, but the hand on your wrist keeps you from doing so.

“I-fuck you” The words come out of your mouth more soft and meager than you intended to, and you find yourself locked into his blue gaze.

“Believe me, I've thought about it.” His voice is low, and his face isn't painted with a shit-eating grin like it so usually is, he's serious and stern. You stay silent as you watch him examine your face. He leans in, close enough to kiss you, raises his right hand and runs his finger tips down your face.

"Will you bite my tongue if I kiss you?"

"Maybe"

Sukuna's mouth crashes onto yours, hard, angry, and demanding. He doesn't even give you a chance to resist, not even a breath. His lips are fierce against yours, stealing every breath you try to take. Your hands instinctively move to push him away, but instead, you find yourself gripping his shirt, pulling him closer.

You meet his aggression with equal force, your lips moving furiously against his. His hands cup your face roughly, holding you in place as his tongue demands entry. You respond with a whine, opening up to him, your tongues tangling in a heated dance.

Every kiss is a challenge, every touch a dare. You bite his lower lip, drawing a groan from him that vibrates through you. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The intensity of the moment leaves you breathless, hot, and angry.

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging sharply as if to remind him you won't be dominated easily. He retaliates by pressing you harder against the cushions, so you have no choice but to melt into him.

In one swift motion, Sukuna pulls back just enough to yank his shirt over his head, revealing muscles lined with black tattoos beneath. Before you can even take a breath, he’s back, his mouth claiming yours with renewed fervor. His hands move to your shirt, fingers pulling at the fabric of your sweater. You break the kiss for a mere second as he tugs your shirt off, then he dives back in, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that makes your head spin.

His hands roam over your newly exposed skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your breath hitches as his fingers find the waistband of your pants. He undoes them with a practiced ease, pushing them down and leaving you in just underwear and bra, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

"W-what do you think you're doing?" you stutter, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he replies, his voice low and filled with a wicked amusement.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "I'm gonna fuck you." His hands slide over your hips, pulling your pants down completely, and you shiver at the sensation of his touch.

You whine when he places his knee between your legs which pushes against your clothed crotch. You involuntarily buck up your hips to try and gain more friction, making Sukuna chuckle; his shit eating grin widening.

“Needy, arent you?”

Your instinct is to tell him to fuck off, but he is already hooking a finger under your pastel pink panties; pulling the material down to reveal your cunt. You mentally curse yourself at the fact that you're already wet, a fact that will sure to swell Sukuna's ego.

Your hands fly down to hide yourself but he swats them away, giving you a glare before sliding a finger up and down your wet slit; collecting the juices before pushing a digit into your tight hole.

"S-shit." your groan, and the moment you clench around him, a sickening grin spreads across his tattooed face.

"Always knew you where gonna feel great around me."

The first curl of his fingers knocks the wind out of you, as it hits the sweet spot inside of you that you could only dream to reach on your own.

“Hah~ I cant-” You whimper, stomach clenching and legs trembling from the pleasure. You want to say you hate this, tell him to get off of you but you can't, you can't even think straight. You even push your hips out, angling them so his digits reach deeper into that sweet spot that sends tendrils of electricity through your body. But before you can fully bask in the pleasure, before you can taste your orgasm on your tongue, he pulls his fingers out.

"You think I'm gonna let you cum so early? After all the shit you have pulled?" His hand flies to your throat wrapping around it with a force that belies the strength behind it. Your breath hitches, a strange mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through your veins. His touch is firm, and commanding, but there’s an undeniable pleasure in the way his fingers tighten slightly, reminding you of the power he holds.

"Nah no way." Sukuna chuckles "Your just gonna have to suck it up."

You try to speak, but his grip tightens just enough to cut off your words, leaving you gasping. The pressure on your throat is intoxicating, a strange pleasure mingling with the discomfort. You can feel your pulse throbbing under his hand. You are so dazed that you don’t even notice he has pulled out his dick until you feel something big pressing against your entrance, making you look down and your eyes widen as you do so.

You’re about to open your mouth to say something, what, you do not know, but all of a sudden Sukuna pushes his dick into you until his hips are flushed against yours. It feels like you're being split in two, and the way his tip smushes against your cervix makes you unable to find your breath. The unfamiliar feeling has you squirming and clenching around his cock; body desperately trying to push out the foreign intrusion.  

“Shit you gotta loosen up doll, cant fuck you like this.” There were veins popping on his temple as he started to rub tight circles on your clit. Bolts of pleasure shoot up your body, and you desperately try to relax your body.

“Atta girl” He coos, withdrawing his hips before slamming into your.

The first thrust completely knocks the wind out of you. The collision with your gspot has you arching your back of the couch; eyes screwed shut and letting out a loud moan. He's girth spread you so well, so much, and the friction was so delicious, tears blotted your eyesight. Your skin is buzzing, and your entire lower half is shaking from the pleasure. Sukuna's pace is brutal, unforgiving, and he has to grab the arm rest above you with one arm to help his brutal and unforgiving pace into you.

Your mind grows hazy, lost in the sensation of how good he was fucking you, but then, without explanation, a spark of defiance ignites within you. Suddenly, you find the strength to flip him over, his dick not leaving the warmth of your cunt once and so you were effectively laying on top of him, your legs on either side of his body. With your chest flushed against his, and your ass perked up in the air, you begin to fuck yourself on his dick, raising your hips up and down his length as if he was a dildo.

"Oh thats it." Sukuna is not a whining man but here he is, his voice cracking from the feeling and sight of you riding him. "Fuck yourself on me shit shit shit."

You are practically drooling on his chest, your eyes rolling back from how good he felt against your G spot.

You let a whine when you feel yourself start to get tired so Sukuna grabs your hips and starts fucking you on his length.

Fap.Fap.Fap

"Gonna cum in you baby ok?" He murmurs into your ear and you dazedly nod.

Suddenly you feel your stomach dip and your mind go blank. Your mind feels as though it’s been dipped in pure euphoria, thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind, replaced by an overwhelming wave of bliss that drowns out everything else. Your body responds in kind, muscles tensing and releasing in perfect harmony with the pleasure coursing through you. It’s as if every cell is vibrating with delight, your skin tingling with a heightened sensitivity that makes even the slightest touch feel like a divine caress. The heat of the sensation is intoxicating, making your limbs feel weightless as if you’re floating on a cloud of pure, unadulterated joy.

Sukuna is quick to follow, shooting ropes of thick cum that glide down his shaft onto his balls.

"See? We are practically made for each other."

[gravegoer]

Do you write for Grayson by any chance? I really wished we got see more of her before her unfortunate demise

Sevika , Ambessa , Grayson ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

i write for anyone! and you can request a separate thing for grayson if you'd like but I decided to do the 3 butches in 1 so here's some random stuff for them

council member sevika fic

Ambessa doesn't love often, but when she does, she loves HARD.

Since you're close to her, she is constantly worried people about hurting you to get to her.

You might have enforcers on you 24/7 unless you tell her to stop and if that's the case. She will follow you around herself. Making sure people know you are always under a close watch by her.

When you walk in public together, she likes you to have your arms wrapped around her bicep/forearm, keeping you as close as possible.

If that's not in your taste she will sling a heavy arm over your shoulder, careful not to weigh you down.

She is always buying you expensive and lavish clothing. If your gaze lingers on anything for too long, you'll see it at your doorstep the next day.

When you see a nice shop you like she's going to take you in and make you try on clothes for her. Putting her hand on your waist as she spins you around. Inviting you to stand between her spread legs so she can see the details better.

If you like to wear heels and your feet start to get tired, she will sit you down and take them off your feet herself, opting to carry you around for the next few hours.

When she carries you, you can see all the scars on her arms and face in full detail. She doesn't seem to mind your staring and might even take pride in herself.

As you're cuddling, she loves it when you trace your fingers over her scars, admiring every bump and edge. She will tell you dramatic stories about how she got them. (Definitely exaggerating some details.)

You could talk together for ages, bringing up random stories and irrelevant details. Her rough hands combing through your hair, or massaging your shoulders.

This was a weekly thing in the hot springs. She sits on the ledge above you while your shoulders slot themselves between her thick, scarred thighs.

She will take care of you without expecting anything back, but she definitely loves it when you return the favor. She will rest her head on your thighs and groan in pleasure when you massage her temples or scalp.

Grayson is a romantic, she will be showing up at your door with flowers in hand.

If she met you in Zaun, she will insist on taking you out on a fancy dinner date at her favorite Piltover resteraunt.

If you refuse, that's okay too. She's fine with eating at any of Zaun's resteraunts. (Just not seafood, please.)

She's asking you what your favorite flower is so she can bring you those instead next time.

And if you are a Zaunite, she isn't ashamed of your relationship, showing you off proudly. After all, all the enforcers do look up to her. What are they going to do?

If you don't know how to shoot, she will be more than pleased to teach you. Your back is pressed against her warm chest as she wraps her arms around you to hold the gun steady.

Her rough voice firmly commands you on where to put your hands and which parts do what.

Speaking of her voice, she knows you love it when she whispers sweet nothings in your ear before you drift off to sleep. Her muscled arm cushioning your head and cradling you close to her chest.

It's easy for her to fall asleep once she knows you're safe and comfortable. (That's why she insists on moving in together.

Actually, she insists on doing a lot of things together. For example, she appreciates when you work out with her, sitting on her back while she does pushups, or maybe spotting her while she presses some weight. (Not that she needs it. She just wants you close)

She instructs you on what workouts you can do and where to place her hands, maybe placing hers on yours for a bit too long.

You can see the sweat gleam on her forehead and the veins in her forearm after every set she completes. This is a sight you can grow to appreciate.

She definitely subtlety flexes when you touch her arm or basically anywhere else she can possibly bring herself to flex. (You notice)

Sevika is the gentlest giant. At first, you might assume her tone is rough and condescending. But after some time, you start to see through her facade.

Her tone around is more firm and calm. It's more around you than anyone else. She tries not to get aggressive or angry with you.

And if she does, she's immediately making it up to you in every way but saying "sorry"

She's bringing you your favroite foods, giving you a little more affection than usual, reluctantly letting you fidget with her mechanical arm.

She does take you out to places, albeit not the fanciest. She makes do with what Zaun has to offer. Buying you a drink at the bar or a trip across the city.

Although she's not really a big fan of PDA, she will let you hold her arm while walking around Zaun. She swears it's a safety precaution to make sure no creeps get close.

When she plays cards at the bar, you are always beside her, no arguements. She doesn't want you sitting by any of the other shady men that play with her.

Maybe if there is few enough people you can sit in her lap and light her cigarillo for her.

What you don't do in public is definitely made up for in private.

She lays on your lap after a long day, taking deep inhales into your stomach to calm down. Grabbing your hand, she'll encourage you to run your fingers through her hair.

Let's you hold her face in your hands and trace her intricate scar while her eyes are closed, completely letting her guard down.

Her large hand engulfs your own as she cradles your hand close to her face, imprinting this memory in her mind.

Just know she is extremely touch starved. Most of the touching she gets all day is punches and kicks, nothing close to the gentle sweep of your fingers on her exposed skin.

She isn't a big gift giver, but if you give her a neat suprise, like an expensive zippo or a new shirt (God knows she needs one) you swear you see a small tear in the corner of her eye. Maybe its just the light.

But who cares because her lips will immediately be on yours, engulfed in a hot kiss.

i feel like sevika needed more screen time in the last act but its okay as long as she didn't die...

[teaboot]

Its been a rough couple days out here so I'm writing a list of things I love about my son

(who is cat)

His dumb little face

His pretty yellow eyes

Every day when I get home the FIRST thing that happens is I scoop him up into my arms like a big baby and he let's me rub his tumtum for a whole two minutes!! Before returning to Bite Mode

The SECOND thing that happens is he gets the zoomies! When his father returns from work he goes SNUGGLE! then zooooooom. Because he is excited for me to play with him!!

When I play computer games he likes to feel included so even though he isn't normally very touchy he lets me scoop him up in one arm so he can sit there like a toddler and watch the screen

He trusts me SO much like if he wants up on a shelf or down off something tall I can just walk over and kneel and he'll crawl up or down me like a ladder and I've never had a cat do that before

He'll ride around on my shoulders when I take him out for walks which van be tricky now that he's big but he's so brave even when we pass a dog

Sometimes when I go to run his chin he gets SO EXCITED he'll jam his nose into my palm and smush it hard like he's trying to burrow a hole in the ground and it's adorable

He loves water-appliances? Like sinks and toilets and baths and such. He gets SO excited every time I turn on a faucet, he'll rush over and get as close as he can to watch without getting wet.

His favourite part of the whole house is the bathtub and whenever I take a bath he'll drape himself over the side and lounge there until I get out. He's not allowed in when I'm using the toilet but once I'm done I open the door to leave and he rushes in to check if I've been taking a secret bath without him, goes straight to the tub

In trying to teach him not to bite me, he has learned that he IS allowed to bite blankets. So if he really, really wants to play and I'm ignoring him, he'll bite me blankets and whip them around like a puppy playing tug-of-war.

If I'm ignoring him because I am ALSEEP, this sometimes results in me waking up because he has successfully pulled my blankets off of me.

He likes watching trucks. He'll sit in the window and watch traffic but if he hears a loud engine he'll RUSH to check it out.

When he was a baby, my brother would visit in the afternoons to feed and play with him while I was working. As a result, he loves his uncle more than me, and will allow constant tummy rubs

Because my brothers and I do family movie night at my place, and because he loves his uncles so much, he lights up whenever the doorbell rings and MUST greet visitors at the door.

Sometimes he tries to climb up a door by hugging the edge and jumping as high as he can. It has never worked but he still keeps trying. I think he just likes sliding down like it's a firepole.

He is obsessed with the smell of McDonalds french fries. He doesn't try to eat them, he just wants the box. There us currently one under my bed that I'm not allowed to throw away. I can hear him jamming his face into it right now.

Sometimes when he's curious about something I'm doing- eating, drinking, washing up, whatever- I'll let him sniff, and I'll just hear two or three strongass HUFF. HUFF sounds before he goes back to chilling. It's the cutest shit.

He's soft like the luxurious wild mink

His littol baby FEETSIES

Sometimes he stops grooming himself and forgets his tongue is sticking out

His laser toy has a keychain attachment that jingles so whenever he hears a metallic jingle like that he thinks it's playtime

when I wash my face in the bathroom in the morning he hops on top of the toilet tank and starts grooming himself like "Oh hey I guess it's EVERYBODY'S bath time okay"

He's chatty and will meep back and forth with me

He has a round little wicker nest bed on a pedestal in my room and he likes to climb inside at night and make biscuits on the cushion while he sucks on the corner and it makes me wanna cry he's such a big baby

He will not wake me up for breakfast but as soon as I move in thevmorning he'll hop up onto my chest and stare at me. If I take too long to get up he'll meep in my face and then bounce back and forth between me and the door until I'm up.

Once I AM up, he will circle me and continue chirping until I ask him if it is time for dinner. Dinner, as far as he knows, is the only word for food. As soon as I ask, "is it dinner time?" He will zoom to the kitchen like a bat out of he'll and wait beside his bowl.

He genuinely seems to enjoy walkies and will climb into his carrier if he thinks we're going somewhere

Soketimes he'll pick up one of his toys and trot around with it like he's showing it off and I swear to God every time it makes me wanna make the most embarrassing noises

Him son ♡

[seiwas]

you're the reason (i got a weakness) | miya atsumu

wc: 2.9k

summary: it’s not that atsumu doesn't like you dressing up like this—in fact, he loves it. just not when you're fighting. not when he can't even call you "baby".

contains: post-timeskip atsumu, arguments and atsumu feeling really sorry, flashbacks, uses the nickname “baby” & “my love”, reader is described as “pretty” and wears heels, hurt/comfort.

a/n: atsumu isn’t a sucky boyfriend he just gets carried away sometimes. song inspo: can you blame me? - kehlani, lucky daye.

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: making yourself look good to feel good (your partner has something to say to you)

sponsored by @itskilau and @tasoyoru for the @ficsforgaza initiative. please check it out and support if you can!

“Bab—”

Atsumu lingers by your bathroom door, eyes drooping lower and sadder than they ever have. The steam makes the bleached strands of his hair cling to his forehead, his thick eyebrows now damp and flattened. 

You sigh, the big, heavy, and deep kind, shoulders dropping as you clasp the lock of your necklace.

He stares. 

That’s his job. You always ask him to do it the moment you step out of the shower. 

His lip trembles, eyes watery.

“Not now, Atsumu.”

You walk past him as you adjust the towel around your chest, your arm brushing against his. It’s a small thing, a sensation ingrained so deeply into the past two years you’ve been together, but he feels it like it’s the first time you ever touched him—and in a way, it is. Since yesterday, at least. 

The silence that trails after you is so deafeningly still, he thinks he can hear his heart breaking. 

“Atsumu,” your voice rings. 

Who the hell is “Atsumu”? 

He’s not supposed to be “Atsumu” to you. He’s “Tsum.” He’s “baby.” He’s “my love.”

Anything but “Atsumu.”

When you close the door of your walk-in closet to change, the metaphorical volleyball of hope floating right into the palm of his hand misses and drops straight to the floor. 

It started with volleyball, as all things with Atsumu do. 

You’d met him at the rise of his career, just a few years of him being pro. You were friends first, but if you ask anyone around Atsumu, they’d tell you you were never just a friend to him; he’d invited you to all his games and practice matches, spent a bit more time in the locker rooms before going out for dinner with you and the rest of the team. 

Osamu has the receipts of all the extra orders of onigiri Atsumu started adding to his regular weekly subscription since meeting you. 

Your first ‘date’ was Atsumu treading the very fine line between teaching you how to play volleyball and teaching himself self-control. Keeping an eye on the ball is hard enough, what more when he has to resist staring at you in very cute volleyball shorts too? 

As MSBY’s success skyrocketed, so did Atsumu’s—brand deals left and right, solo work trips during off seasons, commercials; the whole thing. When Atsumu wasn’t training, he was either traveling  or attending events and photoshoots. Always on-the-go. Moving. 

And he knew you understood, knew you knew him and his tendencies to overwork; knew him, and his habit of getting stuck inside his own world. You’d driven to late practices with bento boxes to share, and you’d packed his gym bag more than a few times, brought in extra clothes without him having to say a word.

You’ve managed his lifestyle better than anyone could.

But, Atsumu has a bad habit of promising more than he should, of serving white lies just as easily as he does volleyballs behind the service line. 

“Won’t take long, baby. Swear it,” he holds on to the wall by your door, slipping his feet inside his dress shoes. “Pick ya up at 6:00?” 

He’d winked at you then, kissed you between your eyebrows and nose before sneaking one more right at that spot underneath your ear.

What he’d give to be able to do that right now. 

“Okay,” you giggle, swatting his chest as you nod, “better hurry then, you might be late.” 

When Atsumu remembers that moment, the way you’d agreed so doubtlessly, he hates himself even more. You trusted him, have trusted him so wholeheartedly this entire time, so maybe you’re right—

“Would it hurt for you to just be honest?” 

—Atsumu has no excuse standing you up on the date he promised you weeks ago all because he lost track of time in some brand event, listening to a potential collaboration on volleyball shoes. Atsumu has no excuse agreeing to “some drinks” right after just to meet the executives of the company. 

There are meetings for those things, ones that can be scheduled and agreed upon. Ones that don’t compromise or add on to the already long list of missed dates with you. 

“I know you’re busy and I understand,” you sigh, turning the knob of the kitchen stove as you heat up the kettle, “you know I do.” 

He stands before you a quarter past 11:00 p.m., cologne long faded and the smell of alcohol spilled on his sleeve. The kitchen island stands like a net on the court, the ball being sent over to his side. 

“Baby, I—”

He passes it back.

You turn from the stove, face fresh and hair tied into a messy low bun as you look at him—how could he have ever stood this–you–up?

You take the ball, “Can I finish what I have to say first?” 

He nods. The kettle begins whizzing.

“I’m happy and so, so proud that you have all these opportunities,” you reach for the cupboard above head to grab a mug. The box of tea bags sits to your right, a mix of Lemon Balm and Chamomile that Atsumu swears keeps his anxieties at bay during the night. “But at least tell me if you can’t make it.” 

You tear open a tea packet, dangling it inside the mug. The kettle whistles, and he feels the onset of a spike. 

“Please don’t keep my hopes up every time.” 

You turn back towards the stove, turning the burner off as you pour in the steaming water inside the mug. 

“Baby, I swear, they just–they started talkin’ ‘bout these shoes, ‘n I thought t’was cool, ‘n the execs–they said the execs’d be there in the afterparty, and—” he breathes, “won’t happen next time, baby. ‘M so—” 

“Can I really believe you next time?”

You approach the kitchen island slowly, holding the piping hot mug carefully as you set it down in front of him. 

Atsumu stood you up on your date, and you still made him tea. 

You hold his stare for a brief moment before you walk away, sadness and disappointment all-in-one.

It is now that Atsumu knows, he’s fucked up.

The ball lands on his side of the court. 

And so, he’s spent this entire day trying to make it up to you—breakfast in the morning, right before training (which he absolutely tanked because all he could think about was how sad you looked the night before); flowers that he brought home after lunch time, just to find the apartment empty. It’s only after a full text thread and three missed calls to your phone that he finally gets a response.

“Nail appointment. Going out tonight,” is your reply (using speech-to-text too, he suspects, with how formal it sounds). 

Which is fine and dandy to him; you should do everything that makes you feel better after he practically took you for granted. It’s just—he hasn’t even said sorry yet, can’t even call you “baby”, can’t even touch you even though he really, really, really wants to. 

And now, with you closing the door on him while you’re changing—there’s nothing else he can do, really, but to walk away and give you some space. 

He shifts his feet, dragging them lightly against the wooden floors of your bedroom.

The moment he hears the door of your walk-in closet slide open, he hurriedly sits down on the edge of your bed, acting as if he wasn’t just anxiously pacing, waiting for you to come out. 

He feels like shit, if he’s being honest—like how he does when he misses a serve; if not, worse. 

You look good. Make-up done to only emphasize the features he loves (which is your entire face, really), and your outfit perfectly accentuating the dips and curves of your body. 

He follows you as you exit the room, tailing after you like a lost puppy. When you stop by your entryway, all he can do is watch as you bend down to put on the straps of your heels. And it sucks, because if you weren’t fighting, Atsumu would be right by your feet, crouched low so that you wouldn’t have to. 

It’s pathetic and a little helpless of him to just stand and stare in the middle of your living room. He should say something at least, but, you just look so good, and his throat feels dry; his heart all achy and stomach twisty. 

He doesn’t want to be away from you. 

And it’s not that he doesn’t like you going out looking like this—he loves it. But as soon as you step out the door with a soft “don’t wait up for me” mumbled from your glossed lips, Atsumu can only taste bitter regret at the fact that he wishes he were coming with you. 

He couldn’t even give you a goodbye kiss. 

The blond groans, pulling at his hair as he rests his elbows down on the kitchen counter. 

“Don’t wait up for me,” you said. As if he can even sleep without you around. 

.

.

.

The hours go by but they feel like days. Atsumu’s done every possible thing he can do in this apartment and it still hasn’t breached 11:00 p.m.. He’s cleaned down the kitchen (twice!) and arranged the food inside the fridge like those ‘stock up my fridge with me’ tiktoks he’s seen on Sakusa’s phone. The clothes on his side of the closet have been arranged by color and length, with all the ones in his dresser refolded, Marie Kondo style. He’s also pretty sure he’s scrubbed the bathroom down enough that you can probably see your reflection on the tiles of the damn thing. The laundry baskets for both your clothes are now empty, and he’s changed the bedsheets too and—

He’s still restless. The numbers on the clock taunt him, moving up agonizingly slowly. He can’t stop looking at the time, itching for you to come home. 

Atsumu is sorry, so so so incredibly so, because you’re right―he hasn’t been fair to you at all, and he needs you to know that he knows it, too. 

His eyes go over the clock again, only a minute having passed since the last time he checked it. 

Is this how you felt? Every time you waited for him to come home for a date he promised you? 

He squeezes his eyes; it hurts him just thinking about it. 

That’s it, he decides, grabbing his phone and wallet as he walks out the door. 

. 

.

.

Atsumu doesn’t check your location often (maybe only a few times). It’s not a trust thing, he swears; it’s just for when he wants to make sure you’re somewhere safe, or in a place he can reach you should you need him there. 

And, you clearly don’t need him right now, but, Atsumu is a little selfish, he admits. 

Sitting at home with all his regret feels worse than seeking you out to beg for your forgiveness, whether you want him to or not. 

He’s barely dressed for the venue as he steps inside the bar, a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt with those fashionable Birkenstock clogs on. A few people seem to recognize him, tilting their heads and murmuring among themselves as he walks through door, but none of them approach him, thankfully, except for a server asking if he needs assistance. 

His eyes scan the tables first, searching for any semblance of the outfit he’d seen you leave in earlier. The dim lights make it increasingly difficult for him to look for your properly as he squints his eyes some more, narrowing his vision to the people at the front bar this time. It’s after the fourth person he dismisses that he feels himself getting desperate, nearly turning towards the server beside him to ask for help.

Until he spots you—tucked in the corner of the front bar, sitting on the barstool with your legs crossed as you swirl around your drink. 

You look bored, and a little sad, chin resting in your hand as you lean your elbow on the table. 

He frowns, thanking the server on the side as he makes his way to you slowly. You barely notice him as you bring out your phone, tapping on the screen as you stare at it almost longingly―a photo of you and him some time ago after one of his games. He knows it well, can still remember that day so clearly: when he became a PR nightmare because he couldn’t help but announce your relationship by kissing you in front of everybody. 

It makes his chest hurt. 

Then, you swipe it open, and he’s close enough now to be able to catch a glimpse of what’s on your screen: your text thread with him, his last message being, “Did you make it safely?” 

(You pout, eyes pricking with tears. You didn’t reply to him then because you weren’t ready to fully talk to him yet, still upset and disappointed. 

It was easy to make yourself feel better by dressing up and stepping out of the apartment earlier, the promise of good drinks and good company awaiting your arrival; you couldn’t think about how you felt if you were busying yourself with others. But now that all of those feelings have died down and most of your friends have started chatting up other people they’ve found, it’s beginning to hit you all at once just how much you still prefer Atsumu’s company more than anything else.

Your fingers hover over your text box, typing and deleting. Typing and deleting.) 

He’s two stools away from you now, and he can barely contain it―

“Baby,” his voice trembles, unsteady. 

Recognition fills you as you turn to the sound, half-confused at whether you’re hearing things; whether―

(“Tsum,” you mutter, eyes catching a pair of familiar warm brown staring back at you. His bottom lip quivers, the embodiment of a dam starting to crack, vibrating.

Your emotions are a mess, your breath on hold as you feel tears welling up in your lashline too. You still feel upset, still a little sad, and a tiny bit disappointed, but what coats them all is a sense of relief because—)

―he’s here, standing in front of you like he just rolled out of the house with barely enough time to get dressed (which, you’re sure is exactly how things went), and you’re sliding off the bar stool in the prettiest outfit, looking like the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. 

“‘M so sorry,” he breathes out, stepping closer as he grabs your hand, “Don’t ever wanna make y’feel like that again.” His knee gives way as he starts sinking to the floor, “I won’t do that anymore―” 

“Tsum,” you try to call his attention.

He’ll beg for your forgiveness whether you like it or not. 

(The interaction is causing nearby tables to look, murmurs and whispers in your periphery as you catch vague sentences here and there. He still is a public figure, after all.) 

But Atsumu is unaware, looking at you and you alone as he pleads, “No, please hear me out first. I promise I’ll tell ‘em they can speak ‘ta―” 

“Tsum,” you squeeze his hand, whispering more firmly as you try to pull him up. 

“Baby, please. Gimme the chance ‘ta show ya that I―”

(You look around and notice even more eyes on the two of you, fond looks on their faces as they prepare their phones for what seems like something momentous. Then it hits you, how this looks―)

“Tsum, please stand up,” you tug at his hand strongly, urging him to stand. His eyebrows furrow as he obliges, only comprehending why when you explain it to him softly, “people were starting to think you were about to propose.” 

He pauses for a moment, a slight, “Oh,” as he ponders on it. “Well, if that’s what’ll prove it t’ya, then—” 

You roll your eyes, the corners of your lips curling slightly as you hit his shin with your foot and squeeze his hand again, “Don’t joke about things like that.” 

Well, it’s not the first time it’s crossed his mind, if he’s being honest. 

He sighs, sitting on the stool beside you as he rubs his thumb over your hand again, bringing it close to his lips to kiss softly. 

“‘M really sorry, baby,” he mumbles against your skin before moving your hand over his heart. “Don’t ever want ya feelin’ like this again.” 

“I know,” you give him a small smile, patting down some of the strands of his hair that stick out, “you didn’t have to come out here though, you know. I was about to go home soon, anyway.” 

“Can ya blame me? Seein’ ya off like that?” he grips your hand tighter as his voice softens. “Y’re too pretty to be sad,” he plays with your fingers, intertwining them with his.

You hit his shin again, feeling shy. You always do when Atsumu likes to sweet-talk you. 

“Do ya forgive me?” he asks after some time, as you take the last few sips of your drink. 

You hum, looking him in the eyes as you nod, pouting, “I don’t like being mad at you, you know.” He lights up, beaming, but you add on, “We still have to talk about it properly, though. Later, when we get back.” 

He nods in agreement, holding your hand as you slide off the barstool, guiding you out of the bar and into the car. 

. 

.

.

(You both do talk about it properly, and the next time Atsumu promises you a date, he blocks it out of all of his calendars, sending the date to his manager even, just to be extra sure.) 

a/n: this has been such a long time coming, i'm sorry to those who waited! i hope you enjoyed even though this simmered with me for way too long 😭 i love writing atsumu a little lovesick but i also think he deserves someone who is equally as in deep as he is 🥺

thank you notes: to 🍧 anon for helping me figure out "what would make you mad at atsumu?" and to @ceroseis and @mieiri for always listening to my shenanigans pre-writing!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[honey-pages]

Mine - Viktor x Reader

Description -

Viktor performs oral on virgin Reader.

1.5k words

F/M. 18+. Smut. NSFW. Oral. Virgin Reader.

“How do you know so much about everything?” You joked. 

You had not expected Viktor to take it so seriously. He seemed a little wounded. 

“Do I appear to think I know so much about everything?” He asked in response.

“I didn’t mean it like that Viktor” You explained, “I just meant that you are so intelligent and knowledgeable, sometimes I can feel a bit out of my depth.”

“Ah” He looked saddened “I had never considered that you would feel this way, you keep up with me so well”

The sight of him disheartened hurt. 

“I think it’s really attractive.” You try to reassure him, “When you know so much. It’s never a negative”

He chuckled, “You find my knowledge attractive?”

“Well, I find the whole of you attractive, but there’s something special about hearing things that you are clearly well-educated in.”

“Oh really?” He asks, “My education isn’t strictly academic you know”

Viktor looks amused, leaning forward on his elbows across the table at you. You had been flirting in his study for some time and it appeared to be coming to a natural conclusion. You were nervous though still confident in the experience being positive and what you wanted. You were very inexperienced sexually and this long period of flirtation proved enough for you to decide exactly how you wanted it. 

“Teach me” You state.

“Teach you what?” He asks with a bemused smile.

“Something non-academic”

“Anything?”

“Anything”

“Follow me to my bed, Miss (Y/N).” He invites.

Viktor’s bedroom is adjoined to his study, the two spaces linked by a door. As he stands, he reaches out a hand and you take it and follow him. His bedroom is clean, warm and dark, with a small lamp in the corner and a made bed to the right wall. Viktor closes the door behind you.

Viktor leads you to the bed and sits next to you. He turns and looks at you for a long while, examining the curves of your face and the familiar look of your skin. He is honoured you are trusting him in this way and equally excited at being in this position. He had felt romantically towards you for quite some time however was not sure you returned his feelings. Today had given him the courage to pursue them, your flirtatious conversations had become a green light encouraging him to indulge himself in your affection. 

You could see something in the way he watched you, judging and perceiving. He raised his hand to your face, his thumb swiping over your cheek and moving to grip the back of your head, playing with your hair. He pulls you in for a passionate kiss. 

“I am going to teach you” He manages, between breaths and kisses, “how my tongue feels.”

At this, Viktor increased his urgency, kissing you hungrily. He reclines you onto his bed, your head on his pillow as he lays above you, supporting his weight on his arms. He slips a knee between your thighs. 

“I will start with the basic principle” He starts, licking at your tongue gently, as if testing the temperature.

“Then maybe I will introduce some alternative methods” He continues, removing his mouth from yours to follow the curve of your jaw to your neck. When at your ear, he stops. His breath is warm and heavy, and it sends shivers through you when he speaks. His knee is pressing into you, its weight unbearable. The pressure against you was enough to make your hips move on their own, riding his thigh. 

Viktor watches you attempt to find friction, he grins, finding the sight amusing. 

“All it takes is my knee to elicit this reaction Miss (Y/N), I will make easy work of you with my mouth.”

You try to flirt back, “Viktor- “

Viktor’s knee is moving now, grinding at you relentlessly. His mouth is licking and biting at your neck, trailing to your chest. He shifts his weight to hold one of your hands, lifting it above your head and pinning it there. With his other hand, Viktor lifts your shirt, rearranging your bra to get a better view of you. 

“I am going to give you a demonstration” Viktor lowers his mouth to your breast, tilting to the side so you can view what he is doing with his tongue. Viktor licks gently at the very tip of you, then beginning to swirl his tongue around the sides, takes you into his mouth sucking with firm pressure. The feel of him and the sight of his tongue and lips on you makes you grind harder against his knee. His mouth is hot. His hand cups you and he squeezes, incorporating teeth to gently graze you. Between nips of his teeth, he rapidly flicks his tongue, continuing this with long smooth strokes. 

Viktor moves his mouth to kiss you again, he shifts down. The pressure of his knee is removed, and he shuffles towards the lower end of the bed. Kneeling, he pulls down your trousers, manoeuvring them under your hips and off down your legs. He discards them at the bottom of the bed. He lays flat on his front, face hovering just above the top of your thighs and hooks an arm under each of your legs, pulling you under his mouth. 

“Are you ready for me?” He asks.

He spreads open your legs slowly, laying them flat before him. He takes in the view, grinning happily. 

“I have often thought about this moment”

Viktor coats his fingers with his mouth, using the saliva he has already worked up. His fingers drip with it as he teases you open, sliding against your folds, holding you open and sensitive. 

“You are exactly what I imagined. No one before has had the pleasure of tasting you, have they Miss (Y/N)?”

You stumble, “No.”

“You belong beneath my tongue. You always have done.”

Viktor’s fingers circle your clit, tracing small shapes.

“Are you a virgin, Miss (Y/N)?”

You get quite nervous at the question. You were. You weren’t sure how Viktor would react. There was no reason why you though that he would react negatively, you had gathered he was experienced. If at least, more so than yourself. You had just become quite protective over it; you wanted the situation to be comfortable and equal.

“Yes.” You reply quietly.

You feel a blazing heat as Viktor closes his mouth around you, lapping with broad strokes against your clit. The inside of his mouth is wet, and you feel his saliva coat you, spreading warmth down and across your thighs. His tongue feels so smooth, he curls it and flicks it to achieve maximum sensation, and you are instantly coming undone. 

“Viktor!” You moan out.

“You moan so purely” He teases, “It is fitting that the only thing to have ever fucked you is my tongue.”

You push up and against his mouth. His words are sweet and when he speaks, your body reacts. You are desperate for him, for more of him. He thrusts his tongue inside. You instinctively wrap your hands into his hair. 

“Oh Viktor- “

He speeds up, flatly spreading his tongue between your entrance and your clit, focusing on either when reaching them. At your clit he rapidly flicks and sucks, increasing pressure and focus. 

“Just focus on the feeling, I want to hear the noises you make.”

You feel a strange rising in your core, like a building heat threatening to explode. It is raising as he quickens. Viktor is grinding into the bed, you notice it in his hips, he’s writhing. He wants you just as much as you want him. 

“You are mine” He murmurs, the words lost in the muffled sounds of the both of you. “Once I’m done having you on my face, I’ll have you on my cock.”

You are both desperate. You for release, and him for touch. 

“Viktor, Can I have- “Your words fail you.

“What do you want, Miss (Y/N)?”

“You, your cock, please- “

“Do you need it, Miss (Y/N)?” He asks, making eye contact while flicking his tongue backwards and forwards. 

“Yes Viktor, please” 

“How do you expect to take me when you haven yet experienced all that my tongue can do?”

Viktor tightens his grip and forces you down with more pressure against the muscles of his mouth. The feeling is rising again, that unfamiliar pleasure. You are near the edge you just can’t tell what that edge is, until you are spilling over it, desperately grinding over his tongue, coating his nose and chin with thick wetness.

“I’m- “You scream out.

Viktor drinks it down, swallowing you whole. He doesn’t dare move his mouth, he keeps his pace and encourages more and more from you. Your pleasure is blinding. 

“I can’t take anymore!” You moan out, trying to grip at his arms to loosen up their firm grasp on your thighs. 

“You are capable.” 

You are shuddering against him, sweating. He leaves a few little kisses over your clit before pulling away. His face is wet, his hair dishevelled. You notice the thick outline of him straining against his clothes. 

He reassures that you are comfortable before stating, “I am going to make you mine, Miss (Y/N).”

Tag List - @veru-boom, @gubkkki, @hi-hope-hop-in, @gloriousevolutionz

[girlygguk]

BAD THINGS | JJK (Part 1)

summary getting jealous, sending mixed signals, simping for a gorgeous geek who has no idea what effect she has on him... it's just what jungkook does best. oh, and football. he's really good at football.

pairing jock fuckboy!jk x nerdy fuckgirl!reader

rating 18+ minors dni; smut, angst, fluff

genre f2l, fwb au, university au

word count 7.4k

content jk 20 | yn 20. down bad, simpy, jealous jk. he's kind of a himbo 😭. oc is a nerd but shes confident, a little slutty and a little bitchy. misunderstandings. mcs are (retired) hoes. they r both hopelessly & secretly(?) in love w each other. but one of them is just a littleee more obvious abt it... oc has dissociation as a defense mechanism baddd when she's hurt. football (soccer) jk. campus librarian yn. kth is oc's ex bf. the slightest bit of love triangle themes but like she's jk whipped cmawnn it's me 😭. cursing. kissing. short nsfw scene; dirty talk, p in v sex, almost getting caught

a/n so this is another draft dump LOLLL… i chopped off the end bc i wasn’t happy with it and decided to just turn this into a two-parter with an undetermined pt2 release date. so don’t read this if you’re not a fan of open or unresolved endings, baby!! not even the Lord himself knows when i’ll get back to her since i’ve got a lot in the works atm 😬 butttt i think this first part is seaux cute and it’s my blog so i’m posting it 💋 just like habits, here’s a sweet little treat - maybe a lil sumn sumn for you to pass some time with... <3 love you lots

now playing: bad things—mgk & camila cabello

“It smells like sex in here.”

Your roommate’s voice cuts through the quiet room, half-amused, half-accusing.

Looking up at her from under your warm covers, you respond casually, “Well, autoeroticism is a type of sex.”

Nari tilts her head, her lips pursing slightly as she processes your words. Then, closing the distance, she sits at the edge of your bed. The blanket shifts dangerously low, nearly exposing your bare chest. You bite the inside of your lip to suppress a laugh, quickly tugging it back up in time.

“Is that a nerdy way to say masturbation?” she asks, narrowing her eyes. “And did you really have to get fully naked? With the door unlocked? God, Y/nn, I’ll never get used to how comfortable you are with your sexuality.”

You giggle softly, leaning back into your pillow, lashes lowering as you gaze up at your pretty roommate. “I can teach you how to get comfortable with it if you want.”

Nari rolls her eyes, her lips curving into a sarcastic smile. She playfully smacks your thigh through the blanket, making you laugh. “I’m gay, but not gay enough to settle for a slut, sorry, baby.”

“Slut?” you echo, feigning offense with a dramatic gasp, your eyebrows shooting up in mock surprise. “It’s 2024, unnie… I don’t know if you can say that anymore.”

“Mmm,” she hums thoughtfully, her eyes sweeping over your barely-covered frame as she shakes her head. “It’s not even two o’clock, Y/nn. Like—” she cuts herself off with a chuckle and a shrug. “No, you know what? I’m not even surprised. Anyway, I came to ask if you needed anything from the supermarket. I would’ve texted, but I heard your voice through the door…” She pauses, realization dawning a beat too late. “Oh god. Those weren’t conversations. Fuck, sorry for interrupting.”

“It’s okay.” You smile, poking her lightly with your blanket-covered foot. “Wasn’t going that great anyway.” You shrug. “Strawberries, please? And some chocolate—the dippy kind.”

“Sure,” she nods, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on your sweaty cheek. You try to nuzzle into her affectionately, but she laughs, pushing your face back into the pillow. “‘Not that great?’ You’re sweating like a dog,” she teases as she stands to leave. “Be back soon. Love you.”

“Love you,” you echo, waving lightly as she shuts the door.

The second you hear the front door click shut, you exhale sharply, tossing the blanket off your overheated body.

“‘Not that great?’” Jungkook’s voice breaks the silence, mock offense lacing his tone as he steps out of your closet, his cock still hard and pressing against his stomach. You reach for your bra from the floor, pretending not to notice his pout. “Not exactly the review I usually get…”

You laugh halfheartedly, clipping your bra back on and scanning the floor for your panties. Jungkook frowns, shuffling back onto the bed, his warm chest brushing against your back as he watches you tug your panties up.

“Hey…” His voice softens when he realizes you're redressing. His hand gently rests against your side, only for it to be covered by your shirt as you pull it over your head.

“Y/nn? What—what’s wrong? You don’t wanna keep going? I’m—” His words falter as you stand to pull your jeans on, facing him with a look that leaves him unsure. His throat tightens, but he tries again, “Did you— I mean, I-I’m more than happy to keep going. It didn’t bother me that she almost caught us…”

You give him an amused smile, making his heart lurch, but you say nothing. Jungkook’s mouth goes dry as he watches you fasten the button of your jeans and walk over to your desk. Still silent, you put on your glasses, picking up your phone and swiping across the screen.

Jungkook sits on the bed, completely naked, his lips pursing as he watches you text without sparing him a glance. He opens his mouth to say something, but you’re already locking your phone, reaching for your jacket hanging on the back of your chair. His heart sinks as you walk toward the door without a word.

You twist the doorknob, then hum softly like you’ve forgotten something. “Could you lock the front door behind you, please?”

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. You tilt your head, faking confusion as you ask, “Is that going to be difficult for you…?”

Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head as he leans down to grab his briefs from under the bed. “You’re a real bitch, you know that, Y/n?” His tone is sharp as he tugs the underwear on.

Leaning against the door, you nod nonchalantly, watching him stuff his hardon back into his briefs. “Mhm, I’ve heard…”

Jungkook pulls his black tee over his head, still looking incredulous. “Why are you acting like this? Did you—did you, like, actually not enjoy it?”

Your stomach tightens as you catch the insecurity flicker in his eyes, his brows knitting together slightly as he zips up his jeans. You roll your eyes at yourself for feeling bad, knowing that's exactly why you’re in this position to begin with.

“It was good, Jungkook.” You blink at him, your voice lacking the enthusiasm he’s used to. Now fully dressed, he walks over to you, his shoulders drooping slightly.

You clear your throat and open the door wider, a gesture for him to leave. Jungkook hesitates, stopping just in front of you, his hand brushing your arm gently. But you pull away, and his heart sinks further.

“I have to go—”

Jungkook cuts you off with a frustrated huff. “Y/n, if I did something you didn’t like, you need to tell me. I told you before, if I get too rough, I want to know… I'm sorr—”

“You weren’t too rough,” you laugh humorlessly, shaking your head. “I’ll text you later, okay? I really have to go—”

“Seriously?” He snaps, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. “Where? To Taehyung’s?”

Your head tilts as you look up at him, unimpressed. “Why do you just assume I’m going to another guy's? I could have a study group—”

“Because I know when your study groups are,” he shoots back, glancing at his phone and then at you. “And because you said we had a couple hours. It’s only been forty-five minutes.”

“Can I explain later?” you sigh, exasperated. “This is taking so lon—”

“Holy shit,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, shaking his head, jaw clenched as he brushes past you toward the front door.

He shoves his feet into his shoes angrily, staring at you as you quietly close your bedroom door and follow him. There’s a softness to your movement, a quietness that almost makes his anger dissolve. Almost.

“I’m not going to keep doing this.” His voice holds a cold finality, one that makes your eyes drop to the floor. When you finally look up, there’s a slight glassiness in your gaze, and his throat tightens. “I’m not going to let you make me feel like this anymore.”

You stay silent, your eyes flicking between his before you nod slightly and slip on your sandals. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as you open the front door. You stand there, waiting for him to walk through.

Jungkook glances at the corridor, then back at you, and his resolve immediately fucking crumbles. His lips part, ready to take it all back. Tell you he didn’t mean it. That he doesn’t care how many times you push him away, ignore his texts, put your situationship on hold while you see where things could go with another guy that could offer you what he couldn't. He’d still come back.

He’ll always come back.

But his eyes flick to your phone as it dings, a message from your ex, Taehyung, flashing across the screen. You meet his gaze briefly before you flip the phone over, hiding the notification. But it’s too late. Jungkook already saw it.

He leaves without a word.

“Dunno. Been like two days or something. Don't remember, don't care.” Jungkook’s voice is flat, casual, but tension lingers behind his words as his thumbs flick over the controller, eyes locked on the screen.

He and Jimin are sprawled out on their dorm couch, Jungkook playing FIFA while his best friend scrolls through his phone.

Jimin doesn’t even look up, fingers tapping lazily as he scrolls. “Why do you still pretend like you don’t care around me? I’m like the last person you should lie to.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, eyes focused on the screen as his player sprints down the pitch. But everything feels off, like the game’s moving slower than it should. His shot misses the goal by a mile, and his teeth clench hard. “I’m not lying.”

Jimin rolls his eyes amusedly, still swiping through his Instagram feed. “Mm, sure, Jungkookie. I believe you.”

“I’m not,” Jungkook snaps, offended, his grip tightening on the controller. He flicks back to the main menu and loads into another match after getting absolutely thrashed in the last one. “She hasn’t texted me, I haven’t texted her. Whatever. She’s probably back with her ex or something. Couldn’t care less.”

The small sniff that follows is almost imperceptible, but Jimin catches it, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “Ah.” He hums, not even bothering to look up. “You’re trying to convince yourself, not me. I get it. No worries then.”

Jungkook’s fingers freeze over the controller, jaw locking as his eyes snap to Jimin. He’s burning holes into the side of the blonde’s head, and it takes everything in him not to hurl the controller across the room. Meanwhile, Jimin, lounging comfortably on the other end of the couch, continues scrolling, completely unbothered.

Jungkook exhales harshly through his nose, turning back to the screen. His chest tightens, frustration building, making every movement feel stiff and out of place. The new match starts, but he’s not in it. The ball slides past him, and when another easy goal slips through his fingers, his teeth grit harder.

He can’t focus. Not on the game, not on anything. Because all he can think about is you. How you brushed him off like it was nothing, how you acted like he didn’t matter. And the worst part? You still haven’t texted.

Not once.

He keeps telling himself it’s fine. That he doesn’t care. But the tightening in his chest, the ache in his stomach — it all says otherwise. You both get around, and it’s no secret. Jungkook can’t even remember the last time he even cared about hearing from someone after hooking up.

But you?

You have him wrapped around your finger so tight that he hasn’t eaten properly for the past forty-eight hours, meanwhile you haven’t even sent him a single fucking text.

It’s pathetic. He's pathetic. And it’s all your fault.

Jimin’s voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts, softer but still pointed. “You know,” he starts, glancing up from his phone, “if you really didn’t care, you wouldn’t be this upset, Jungkookie.”

Jungkook sighs heavily, dropping the controller to the side without even pausing the game, dragging a hand through his messy hair in frustration. "Yeah, I know, hyung. But I don’t even know why she’s mad in the first place. Things were fine. Good, actually. Like really fucking good."

‹ ‹ ‹

“Holy fuck!”

Your gasp fills the room as you clutch the back of your thighs, holding your bent legs up while Jungkook drives his cock deeper inside you. His hips snap against yours with his athlete precision, his thick length slamming into your g-spot with each thrust, ripping strangled, throaty moans from your throat.

“Yes baby,” you whimper, your voice cracking. "So goo—uh! uhh, uhhh, my godddd!"

Jungkook’s chest heaves, his teeth dragging over his lip ring as he watches you fall apart beneath him. “I know, baby, I fucking know,” he groans, his voice rough, the sound of your wet cunt sucking him in driving him wild. “Feels so fucking good. Always take me so well, Y/nn. Such a pretty little pussy. Made for me, ah? Fuucck.”

Your nails dig into your thighs as you spread your legs wider, needing him deeper. "Yessss, uh, love your big cock, Jungkookie. M-makes me feel fucking dumb. Godddd, I love it."

He groans, his pace quickening, eyes locked on the way you tremble under him, your eyes rolled back, expression completely fucked out. His lips part to tell you how fucking pretty you look when—

The sound of your roommate’s keys jingling in the front door freezes him.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, pulling out of you so fast it makes you wince. In a scramble, Jungkook jumps off the bed, grabbing his clothes and kicking them under the frame in a huff.

Your blanket is barely covering you when he dives toward your closet, slipping inside and shutting the door just as the front door swings open. Your heart sinks as you watch him disappear. You clear your throat, sitting up just in time for your best friend to step into the room.

› › ›

Jungkook leans back into the couch, arms crossed over his chest, scowling at nothing in particular. “See what I mean? We were good. Then, boom, she’s pissed.”

Jimin scoffs, still amused as he scrolls through his phone. “Are you fucking stupid?”

Jungkook turns to him, confusion written all over his face. “What?”

Jimin rolls his eyes, tossing his phone onto the coffee table and fixing his best friend with a deadpan stare. "You really don’t get it, do you?"

"Well, obviously fucking not, hyung. Can you stop talking in code and just tell me?”

The dim lights of the campus library flicker slightly as Jungkook pushes through the double doors, the sound of ice clinking against the sides of the drink in his hand echoing in the foyer. The space is mostly empty now, save for a few scattered students packing up their things, preparing to leave for the night.

His eyes immediately find you. You’re by the front counter, walking away from one of the tables, probably having just told the last few stragglers that the library is closing. For a moment, you don’t notice him, too absorbed in your task, your brows furrowed in concentration as you tidy up the space. But when he approaches the counter, heart lodged in his throat, your eyes finally land on him.

“Sorry, we’re closed for the n—” Your words falter as soon as you realize who’s standing before you. Jungkook, clad in a cozy hoodie, the hood pulled over his head, his big boba eyes skimming over your face. His expression softens as he blinks, shifting the drink in his hand.

“Hey,” he says quietly, placing the Dunkin’ cup on the counter in front of you before slipping his hands back into his pockets. “Can we please talk?”

Your eyes flicker from his face to the drink, lingering on the straw already placed in the cup, a chunk of the liquid missing. You wrap your fingers around the cup with an amused look, lifting it to take a sip of the caramel coffee.

Glancing at the time on the computer monitor beside you, you ignore the way him getting your order exactly right makes you feel and nod slightly. “Sure, but can it be quick? I’ve still got a bit of reshelving to do before I head off,” you hum, your gaze darting back to him.

“I’ll help?”

Jungkook’s gaze follows you as you step up onto the stool, reaching to place a book on the top shelf. He couldn’t tell you what the novel’s about, not even if you held a gun to his head. But he could tell you exactly what color panties you’re wearing, thanks to the perfect view your short skirt offers him every time you stretch up.

Baby blue, by the way.

Once the book is nestled between the others, you glance down at him, pushing your glasses back up your nose when they slip slightly. “Next one, please.”

He blinks, shaking off the haze clouding his brain, and hands you the last dusty book in his hands. His eyes trail over you, glued to the way you move as you place the book on the shelf, the scent of your coconut shampoo and vanilla-creme perfume making his head spin.

“You know, we’re almost finished, and you still haven’t done much talking,” you say lightly, your Docs clacking against the steps as you climb back down.

“You look so pretty today,” Jungkook blurts dumbly, his voice a little hoarse as he follows you down the aisle, pushing the book cart.

Your head tilts in amusement as you watch him get closer, his hood still tugged low over his hair. “Thank you, Jungkook. You look cute in your hoodie.”

“Y'still mad at me?” he asks with a cute little frown, pulling the cart to a stop before stepping around it to stand directly in front of you.

Your soft laugh hums through the quiet library as you shake your head. “Don’t think so.” You let him close the distance, his big hands ghosting over the sleeves of your sweater, sending shivers up your arms.

“Stop calling me Jungkook then,” he mutters, his lips brushing your ear as he leans down, resting his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent he’s been craving for days.

“Isn’t that your name?” you feign confusion, lifting your hands to pull his hoodie down, fingers threading through the soft strands of his hair that appear.

Jungkook nips lightly at your neck in warning, the gentle bite making you let out a soft breathy noise, and he swallows hard. “Kookie or Jungkookie,” he corrects, his voice barely above a whisper as he presses little kisses into your skin.

“Kook?” you hum, your teasing tone making his hands slide further down your waist.

“No,” he scoffs under his breath, his lips finding a particularly sensitive spot on your neck without even trying. “Tae calls me that.”

A laugh slips from your lips, but he’s not laughing. He pulls you closer, his lips lingering on your skin as he mumbles, “I’m so sorry, Y/nn.”

He leans back to meet your gaze, and the intensity in his eyes makes your stomach twist. “I didn’t hide because I was embarrassed of you, I swear. I just—”

“Whoa,” you mutter, your hands pressing gently against his chest as you push him back a little. “I didn’t say that. Why are you—”

“Jimin hyung told me,” he pouts, taking a step closer as you step back. “I didn’t understand why you were mad, but he explained it to me, and—”

“You’re telling people about what happens between us?” you snap, moving around him. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I was confused and losing my mind,” he rushes out, his voice tight with frustration. “You hadn’t texted me since that day, and I was going crazy—”

“You didn’t text me either,” you shoot back, shaking your head as you grab the last three books from the cart and climb the step stool. “We’re not together, Jungkook. You don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings.” You laugh bitterly. “And anyway, you didn’t—”

“Bullshit,” Jungkook frowns, stepping closer to the stool as you shove the books onto the shelf with more force than necessary. “You were pissed at me.”

You don’t reply, your hands gripping the books tightly as you try to shove them into place, but your frustration makes them impossible to slide in properly. Jungkook keeps talking, and your hands shake as you fumble with the last book.

Then, with one final shove, the book slams into place, but your shoe slips against the edge of the stool. Before you can even begin to fall, his strong hands are around your waist, lifting you off the steps and plopping you safely on the ground.

“Y'okay?” Jungkook asks, his voice soft as he steadies you. His hands linger on your waist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

You don’t want to admit how flustered you feel, but his hands are so warm, so soft, and you don’t pull away. You just nod gently.

Jungkook leans in, his lips brushing your neck again as he mumbles, “You're usually private about your personal life, and I didn’t want you to worry about explaining anything to Nari that you didn't want to. Would never be embarrassed of you. Could never be."

Your heart softens at his words, and you can't control your body as it melts into him, your fingers curling into the back of his hoodie. His lips drag up the soft skin of your neck until they eventually find yours, and just like that, you forget why you were ever mad at the pretty fuck-boy in the first place.

His mouth moves hungrily against yours as he pushes you gently against the shelves and your breath catches, letting him lift you by your thighs until they're wrapped around his waist, his groin pressing right between your legs.

The kiss grows a little deeper, a little wetter, and your hands thread through his hair, tugging at the scalp and humming in delight when his groan vibrates against your lips. His tongue swipes against yours, his nose nudging up that your glasses lift and a soft moan slips from your lips, your own tongue trying to lick off all the caramel he stole from your drink.

Just as your hands slip under his hoodie, your phone starts buzzing in the cart. Jungkook pulls back, breathing heavily, his lips red and a little swollen as his long arm reaches for your phone. He hands it to you, letting your legs sink to the ground as he takes a quick peek at the screen.

His tongue flicks over his lipring in annoyance when he sees the name on the display. KTH.

You glance down at the phone in your hand, completely unbothered as you decline the call. Taehyung’s name disappears from the screen, and you lean up to press a soft kiss to Jungkook’s pouty lips before turning back to pack the stool into the now-empty cart.

Jungkook adjusts his hoodie slightly as he watches you push the cart back down the isle. He follows close behind, biting his lip to keep from breaking into a big fucking grin.

“Did you guys at least use a condom?”

“Shut up,” you laugh, nudging Jungkook’s side as the two of you make your way toward the library entrance. The lights flick off one by one behind you, your voice filling the quiet space. “I didn’t sleep with him.”

Jungkook has your bag slung over his shoulder, his pleased little smile plastered across his lips as he gives you a once-over. His tongue darts out to swipe over his bottom lip, unable to stop himself from staring.

You just look so sweet. Wrapped up in your white knitted sweater, smooth and soft legs disappearing under the hem of your little plaid skirt, hair falling imperfectly perfect over your shoulders. And those glasses. Those pretty fucking glasses perched on your pretty fucking nose. He doesn’t know why, but the sight of them makes his cock throb in his joggers. You just... do that to him.

Finally, you both reach the double doors. Jungkook pulls the keys from your bag, dropping them into your palm as he steps a little closer. The air between you stills for a moment, neither of you saying anything as he watches you carefully. His brow furrows slightly, his heart skipping a beat as you fidget with the keys in your hand, blinking up at him through those pretty eyes. He wonders what’s running through that brilliant mind of yours.

“I’m sorry, Kookie,” you say softly, your voice breaking the silence.

Jungkook frowns, shaking his head as he takes another step closer, the concern in his eyes clear. “Why?”

“You told me you wouldn’t let me ‘continue to make you feel this way,’ and I just—”

“No, Y/nn, I didn’t mean—”

“No, Jungkookie.” Your voice is firmer this time as you look up at him, your expression more serious. “You have every right to establish boundaries. If I make you feel confused or frustrated, you don’t have to put up with that.”

“I’d let you, like, spit on me and tell me I’m stupid, Y/nn,” he shrugs, flashing you a pretty grin. “Well, I am stupid, but still, I’d let you—”

“You are not stupid.” Your eyebrows pull together as you cross your arms, voice sharp with protectiveness. “Did someone call you stupid?”

Jungkook bites his lip, fighting to keep the smile off his face. “No, I’m just saying you could if you wanted to.”

“You’re such an idiot,” you huff, your arms falling to your sides as the keys jingle in your hand.

“Hey… you just—”

“Ah,” you murmur, giggling softly as you step closer, slipping your arms around his waist. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. You’re the smartest boy,” you coo, tiptoeing up to press soft kisses under his jaw.

Jungkook’s lips purse as he bites back a smile, his heart swelling at your touch. He tilts his head down, his eyes locking onto your cute little pout, and with no resistance left in him, he lets his grin break free as he leans down to capture your lips with his.

A light groan escapes from his throat as your arms tighten around his waist, your soft, warm body pressing against his like it’s exactly where you belong. His hands slip up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers gently threading through your hair as his lips part against yours. His tongue slips through, finding yours effortlessly as the kiss deepens, his world melting away until it’s just you. Just the way it should be.

Until the weirdest thing happens.

It's almost as if the one person Jungkook least wanted to see on the entire planet had suddenly—

“Y/nn?”

Taehyung’s voice shatters the moment, and you immediately break away, furrowing your brows in confusion as you turn toward the sound. You’re still snug against Jungkook’s chest, his arms reluctant to let you go, tightening a little when he realizes who it is.

“Tae?” you blink, your hands dropping to Jungkook’s forearms, gently prying them loose as you glance up at him. His jaw is set tight and you wipe a bit of your lip gloss from the corner of his mouth. “One sec, Kookie. Lemme just—”

“Y/n…” Taehyung’s knock on the glass comes again, this time a little more impatient, and Jungkook's eyes roll to the back of his head.

“I’m coming,” you call out, slipping from Jungkook’s grasp and flicking the latch on the library door. The cold night air rushes in as Taehyung steps inside, a warm smile instantly spreading across his face as he spots you.

“Hey,” he greets, moving closer and wrapping his arms around you in a quick hug. You reciprocate, giving him a light pat on the back, but his hands slide down to rest around your waist, lingering in a way that makes Jungkook’s tongue poke the inside of his cheek.

Jungkook shifts his weight from one foot to the other, your bag slipping slightly down his arm as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, his narrowed gaze fixed on the back of Taehyung’s head.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask, stepping back from Taehyung’s hold, your brows knitting as you look up at him.

Taehyung sighs, letting his hands fall to his sides. “You weren’t answering my calls or texts for the past three days. I even went to your dorm and asked Nari what you were up to, but she told me you died and to go away, so… I’ve been trying all the places I thought you’d be.”

Jungkook’s brows shoot up, disbelief flickering across his face. The sheer guts it took for Taehyung to admit all that in front of him? And the fact that he was doing all that in the first place? He thought he was your biggest simp, but shit.

Then, as the words settle, a wave of relief washes over him. You haven’t talked to Taehyung in three days. So, you really weren’t texting him that night.

His heart soars.

You offer Taehyung a small smile. “I’ve just been really busy, sorry, Tae.”

Taehyung chuckles, shrugging lightly. “Yeah, seems like it…” His eyes flicker over to Jungkook, lingering on the bag hanging from his arm for just a second before he nods in acknowledgment. “Hey, Kook.”

The striker forces a tight-lipped smile, returning the goalie's nod. “Hey, Tae.”

The tension in the air is thick, making you clear your throat awkwardly. Being stuck in an empty room with the both of them? Fucking nightmare fuel.

You knew getting involved with two guys from the same sports team and friend group was a disaster waiting to happen. But in your defense, it wasn’t exactly the plan...

You’d already been hooking up with Jungkook casually for a while before Taehyung even entered the picture. In fact, the last time you had slept with Jungkook was right before a match that Taehyung had invited you to watch. You’d been texting with him for a while, and the plan was to go out to dinner after the game. Jungkook had never invited you to a game…

Anyway, not exactly your proudest moment.

It's just that when Jungkook had gotten all pouty and sad after you told him you wanted to see where things with Taehyung could go, and there were twenty minutes left before the game started…

It was a parting gift, okay?

Taehyung had been a great boyfriend, truly. Caring, funny, easy on the eyes — things had been going well. You weren’t even sure why you ended it after five months.

Maybe it had something to do with the way your stomach would twist every time you were out with the group, and Taehyung wasn’t the one making you laugh the hardest that night.

Maybe it had something to do with the way you’d sit in the bleachers, watching their games, but your eyes would somehow always drift to Jersey #1 instead of Jersey #30.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that a twenty-minute quickie with #1 had been more intense, more mind-numbing than anything you experienced during five months with #30.

But those were just theories, of course.

“Have you eaten?”

Taehyung’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and you blink, refocusing on him. “Hmm? Uh, no. But I was going to—”

“Hanjie’s is open late. Did you wanna grab something for dinner?” he suggests, his tone hopeful as he looks over at Jungkook and adds, “You down, Kook?”

Your brows furrow instantly at the worst idea you’ve ever heard. As your lips part to impolitely decline the invitation, Jungkook responds faster than you can.

“Yeah, I could eat.”

Your eyes snap to Jungkook, wide with horror. He’s holding Taehyung’s gaze, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips as he adjusts your bag on his shoulder. He glances at you, his head tilting slightly like he’s enjoying this far too much.

You narrow your eyes at him, disbelief written all over your face, before turning back to Taehyung. You’re about to put an end to this terrible plan, but Taehyung chimes in again, all smiles and casual energy. “Cool, let’s go.”

He pushes the door open, holding it for the two of you, looking back at you expectantly.

Your fists clench at your sides, and you stay rooted to the spot, but then Jungkook’s warm hand presses gently against the small of your back. “C’mon, know you’re hungry,” he murmurs, leaning down so only you can hear. “I’ll pay.”

You roll your eyes, but reluctantly step forward, letting him guide you into the cold night air. Taehyung happily lets the door swing shut behind you both, glancing back as Jungkook locks the double doors behind him with the keys you hadn’t even realized he’d slipped from your hands. He drops them back into your bag, pulling his hood back up over his head before stuffing his hands into his pants pockets.

You fall into step between the two football players, walking silently down the cold campus path toward Hanjie’s Sikdang. You hug your arms tighter across your chest, sending up a silent prayer that one of the street lamps overhead would give way and fall right on top of you.

You trail behind Taehyung and Jungkook, who are already making their way to a booth. They slide into opposite sides, both of them leaving an open space beside them, clearly expecting you to take a seat.

Your jaw clenches as you glance between the two options, your eyes drifting to a stool at the edge of the room. It's tempting, but dragging it all the way over to sit at the end of the table would make you look like a fucking freak, and so, with a resigned sigh, you walk toward the left side of the booth.

Jungkook bites back a smirk as you slide in next to him, promptly grabbing your bag to plop it on the other side of the seat, removing the barrier between you. His knee bumps yours under the table, and though you roll your eyes, you pick up your phone, pretending to check your notifications to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

Menus are passed around, and the three of you glance over them briefly. Taehyung orders a steak sandwich, while you and Jungkook opt for cheeseburgers and he gets fries for the table.

As the pretty waitress walks away, you steal a quick glance at Jungkook, curious if he noticed the way she blatantly flirted with him. But, to your surprise, he seems completely unfazed, swirling his straw in his drink with casual indifference. Hm. He definitely noticed.

Taehyung, ever the easygoing type, tries to break the silence by bringing up a lighthearted memory. From when the two of you were fucking dating.

"Y/nn always used to order iced tea on our dates," he chuckles, glancing at the drink both you and Jungkook just ordered. "Guess some things never change, huh?"

Your eyes flicker toward Jungkook, who already knows how much you love iced tea. He’s watched you order it countless times on group nights out, and sometimes, he’s even ordered it for you when you were running late or in the bathroom when the waiter came by. His lips pull into a tight smile as he takes a sip from his glass, clearly trying not to react to the comment.

"Yeah," Jungkook says, his voice casual but carrying a subtle edge. "I know."

The conversation drifts from small talk to more neutral topics, and soon the food arrives. You try to focus on your cheeseburger, nodding along as Taehyung chats about practice and classes, chiming in here and there. But somehow, the conversation keeps veering back to your shared past with him.

"Remember when you used to bring me snacks to practice? Gummies and pocky sticks?" Taehyung teases with a grin, leaning back in his seat as he takes a bite of his steak sandwich. "You were so good at taking care of me back then."

You laugh lightly, brushing it off with a nonchalant shrug. It's an old chapter of your life, one that no longer holds any weight. But beside you, Jungkook’s energy shifts. His body grows tense, his thigh pressing harder against yours as his grip on his burger tightens.

You glance over at him, your brows furrowing slightly. He’s clearly frustrated, and you just blink slowly. You didn’t care about Taehyung’s comments. Why should he?

"Yeah," Jungkook mutters, his voice low as he shoots Taehyung a tight smile. "I’m sure Y/nn’s still great at taking care of people."

There’s a sharpness to his words, a barely-veiled implication that makes you chew slower on your bite of the burger. You glance down at your plate, shaking your head subtly as discomfort creeps up on you. Taehyung, oblivious or unbothered to the underlying tension, laughs at Jungkook’s comment and nods along.

"Yeah, I’m sure she is," he agrees, his tone light and carefree.

You force a smile, but the entire situation feels like a cruel joke. You glance at the door, reconsidering your poor life choices. A free cheeseburger is definitely not worth the month’s supply of testosterone you’ve just inhaled in the past fifteen minutes.

"I'm tired," you say after another minute, setting down your half-eaten burger. Both boys glance up at you, Taehyung is the first to respond.

"Long day?" he asks softly, biting into a few fries.

You nod, reaching for a napkin to wipe the grease from your fingers. Jungkook’s gaze is heavy on the side of your face, and when you look up, you see him finish chewing before giving you a nod.

"Okay, let's go," he says, waiting for you to slide out of the booth.

You shake your head, gesturing toward the food still left on both their plates. “Finish eating, I’ll wait until you guys are done.”

Jungkook’s lips part, probably to insist, but Taehyung beats him to it. "I'm pretty much done... I can walk you back to your dorm if you want? It's getting dark out."

Your head turns to Taehyung, blinking at his unfairly gorgeous face before you smile appreciatively. "That's okay, Tae. It’s not far, I’ll be fine."

Jungkook looks down at his plate, his jaw working as his tongue runs along the inside of his cheek. Without a word, he picks up the last bite of his burger, shoves it into his mouth, and quickly chugs the rest of his iced tea. He swallows, then pats your thigh with finality. "C’mon, let’s go."

You glance up at him, noting the firm set of his expression as you grab your phone from the table. Jungkook reaches for your bag, sliding it off the booth as you both prepare to leave. Taehyung hums in surprise, stuffing a few more fries into his mouth before sliding out of the booth with a smile.

"Hey, no, if you’re still hungry, eat," you frown lightly, tilting your head at Taehyung. "We’ll wait."

Beside you, Jungkook’s hand tightens around your waist in protest, and you give him a pointed nudge in the ribs with your elbow. He exhales sharply through his nose, clearly annoyed but relenting.

Taehyung laughs through his mouthful, shaking his head before swallowing. "Nah, all good. I’m full now, let’s head out."

Jungkook’s hand slips from your waist momentarily as he tosses a few notes down for the bill and a tip before placing his arm back around you. Taehyung follows suit, placing his cut on top of Jungkook’s and tucking his wallet back into his pocket. He falls back into step with the two of you, still smiling as you guys leave the diner.

The walk back to the female dormitories isn’t long, the three of you strolling along the stony path under the soft glow of the streetlights.

Things are okay now, your stomach satiated and the fact that you're going to be tucked up in your bed soon easing your mind. Taehyung walks to your right, Jungkook to your left, the latter quiet, the former chatty. As the temperature drops even further, you can’t help the slight shiver that runs down your spine.

Taehyung notices immediately and stops his ramble. “Here,” he says, starting to shrug off his jacket, his voice as warm as ever. “You’re freezing. Take this.”

Normally, you would’ve accepted it without a second thought because 1. it's a cute boy offering you his jacket, and 2. why would you want to freeze to death?

But when you feel Jungkook tense slightly beside you, you pause. Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you gently rub your hand over Taehyung’s shoulder in thanks, offering him a small smile as you decline. “I’m fine, Tae, thanks though.”

As you glance over at Jungkook, you catch his eyes, narrowing yours as they shift up and down his hoodie. If he doesn’t want you to have Taehyung’s jacket so bad, he can offer you his own.

He holds your gaze, his lips quirking up in amusement as his tongue darts out to swipe over his lip. His hands easily drop to the hem of his hoodie, lifting it slightly to reveal his bare stomach with no shirt underneath.

You can barely suppress the laugh bubbling in your throat at the sight of his cute tummy after eating, but you keep your expression serious, raising a brow as if to say, Okay, and? Give it.

Jungkook tilts his head at you, his lips curving upwards, a breathy laugh escaping as he bites down on his lip ring. With a resigned shake of his head, he stops walking, both hands going to the hem of his hoodie as he starts pulling it off.

A snicker bursts out of you, and before he can expose himself any further, your hands fly out to stop him, tugging his hoodie back down. “Shameless,” you mutter, shaking your head, still laughing softly as you grab his arm and drag him along.

You fall back into step with Taehyung, who glanced back curiously at the two of you, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he shrugged his jacket back on. When you finally reach the steps of your dorm block, you climb up the first one, turning back to face them.

“Thanks for walking me home. Sorry I was a bummer at dinner.” You give a small, apologetic smile, your hands clutching the strap of your purse. “It was good, I’m just tired.”

Jungkook blinks, his eyes raking over you, hands shoved deep into his pants pockets as he remains quiet. Meanwhile, Taehyung shakes his head, his voice gentle. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. Love spending time with you, no matter how you’re feeling.”

Your heart tugs at his words, the familiar pang of guilt settling in your chest. You feel bad for ignoring his texts, but even worse because, as sweet as his words are, you wish they were coming from Jungkook instead.

God, you fucking suck.

“Thank you, Taehyungie.” You offer him a soft smile, setting your bag down on the step before stepping forward to wrap your arms around his neck.

He steps closer, his hands curling gently around your sides as he pulls you into a warm hug. His body relaxes slightly in your embrace, the sound of the nickname you'd always call him when you were together turning his limbs to jelly. Your hands rub gently across his back before you give him a light squeeze.

As you pull back, your eyes meet Jungkook’s. His expression is hard to read — his gaze on you, but not quite meeting yours. Taehyung’s hands reluctantly fall away from your waist, and he quickly wipes the disappointment from his face, replacing it with his signature bear-y grin.

You shift in your stance as Taehyung steps back, his eyes wandering around the dark, empty courtyard. A soft sigh lodges in your chest as the quiet stretches on, Jungkook continuing to stand there, his eyes still resting on you. Unmoving, silent.

After a long minute, Taehyung breaks the silence, his voice light but tinged with curiosity. “Ready to go, Kook?”

He glances at Jungkook, clearly surprised by his stillness, as if he expected him to have said goodbye to you properly by now — maybe with a hug or at least some words.

That makes two of you.

a/n ermm i know that dorms def do nott have seperate bedrooms at uni... 😭 i realized once i was on my final re-read and i was nawtt going back to re-edit it all 👄 so let's use our big imaginations for this one!! lemme know what u think? love youu <3

perm taglist: @elinaki92 @parapiop7 @photogenius-530 @crazy-eight17 @aalisiyahxstar @lovieku @apobangpogirlyyy @myjungkookthighs @whoa-jo @kooeuphoria @junecat18 @fr0ggieth1nk @joonwater

[scara-writes]

sweetheart

Yandere Emperor X Consort! (F)Reader X Yandere Crown Prince(platonic)

милашка-sweetheart according to google correct me if im wrong!

CW: kidnapped, reader is look down upon by the nobles, infantilize, forced pregnancy, dehumanizing, mentions of attempt suicide, false rumor, power imbalance, worshipping, delusional(?)

NOTE: Crown Prince is at the age of 16(he is your first/oldest son). Reader is around 36-38. Emperor is two year younger than the reader. Also I don't speak russian everything is google (the empire is not based on irl russian empire but a fantasy world like the manhwas/shoujou isekai we read) and english is not my first language you can clearly see when you read the story. This is purely a fiction and I do not mean to offend anyone.

I DO NOT CONDONE ANY ACTION IN THIS FICTION.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Running is not ideal for a 5 month pregnant woman like you.

When you tried to seek help from your parents for the first time, they never helped you because who would believe an illegitimate daughter who was frowned upon by nobles.

You are an illegitimate child of the duke and a humble maid who passed away shortly after giving birth, but despite this, you are a physically and mentally healthy child. You even managed to withstand the attempts of your stepmother and your half-sister to discredit you in the family, and didn't even find a help to your neglectful father who busies himself of taking home many women from brothel.

That was in the past but you were desperate when you ask for their assistance. However, you never heard from them ever since you bore your first child, Ize.

Ize your son. Your lovely crown prince son grew up to be like your husband with his teachings. You tried to persuade him to never listen to his father but he only shook his head and told you that all his teaching that he was learning from his old man was to protect you.

Afraid that it will stress you even more in this suffocating high walls to protect you during your pregnancy and well being, Ize-the crown prince would be willing to act like a little kid for you. He would occasionally brew you a cup of tea that you enjoy or give you a handmade gift, such as an embroidered handkerchief, to show you that he was thinking of you and that said skill you taught him when he was a child. Knowing the child, this kind of acts is for him appease the worries you have;he is different behind closed doors of your confined palace where your eyes and ears can't reach; your crown prince son is a different person who will be willing to shed the blood of others just for you.

And it seems that the morals that you taught him must have been thrown out of the window thanks to your husband.

So here you are after escaping from the hundreds gazes of a watchful loyal hounds around your palace you escape, it wasn't easy since you are carrying the emperor's second child. You heard on a passing by servants that the two tyrants had a meeting with the other nobles and the neighboring kingdom, this is a rare occurrence that the two left you alone. It took you an hour to escape the royal grounds before exploring around the town till you found a port that would take you to another country. This is your only chance to escape that suffocating palace that those two tyrants confined you in. Your Husband, Yuri can't leave you alone not when he found out that you are with his child-a second child at that. Even before you were pregnant with his first child, his wary gaze and infantilization to you had multiplied tenfold.

Your husband spread the rumors about you being mentally ill. But why would he do such a thing? You reflected to yourself and it devastate you to realize it was his scheme to prevent you from seeking help from his subjects to escape. Only the royal physician and your husband were aware of this bogus illness. It felt betrayal that he has to make that action so he can confide you more.

Your husband's scheme worked. Even your own son believed the spewing lies coming from his father, and the nobles never gossip about you as if it was a taboo ever since you were married to the emperor. Speaking ill about the emperor's consort was just as good as the reaper visiting you by the second you speak those words. Only praises coming from their filthy mouths were allowed.

No one bats an eye on you, even the servants who serves under you. They will bathe you, serve you food, refreshments, but none of them will engage or start a conversation with you. When someone last made an effort to assist your escape, a kind servant at that. The lowest mining pit, which is worse than death, The emperor bestowed upon them to be sent the servant's family, including the said servant. High ranked criminals labour in a pit there for 18 hours with a maximum 4 hour break the rest of the hour are for necessities like sleeping, with much less food and income. In short, a death torture for them.

You implore your husband to kill them rather than send them there, the only thing he said to you that it wasn't your fault they were sent there. Something along the lines of—"you were acting like this because of your condition. That servant was attempting to kill you." He told you that in front of other servants. Everyone compliments his action for 'protecting' you. His cunning red eyes looks at you that none of the servants and nobles noticed but you did. It was a warning for you to behave or he will do worse.

Yuri has never harmed you, physically. but he will harm others who want to separate you from him.

The only time you regret your decision is when you met Yuri—he was about to meet his demise by the hands of his brothers if it weren't for you stumbling to see him in the middle of the night on an alleyway of the tsvetok village struggling to breathe from the deep pools of his own blood. So you drag his half dead body into your abandoned chamber—which is rarely visited by servants—that your father bestowed for you when you were born. Aiding his deep wounds, helping him heal up, befriending him, falling in love—

You purse your lips and gave a small wince feeling your belly is starting to ache, the kick from your unborn child thumps under your long dress.

My child please, Now is not the time! you gently brush your belly soothingly before leaning on the lamp post that dimly lit the night. You sigh in relief when you felt the baby inside of you cease on kicking. Although you were a little further from the palace when you looked behind you, you still needed to move quickly. Right now, you assume that Yuri or a servant that was suppose to serve you had definitely find out that you were gone this afternoon and notify the knights and some of high ranking mage to find you immediately, but the sun had already been sunk by the evening. They must have been having a hard time finding you. A little more 18 minute walk and you'll be able to ride on the ship that will help you travel to another empire, or any nation.

"ort---s--ing!" you turn to your left to look one of the vendors of the nights were gossiping. A woman with her husband was panting, assuming he was running to deliver a news to his family. His cloth headband on his raggedy hair is soaking. He took a deep breath before repeating what he said earlier. A dread of fear rise from your throat as he uttered his next words,

"The Emperor's Consort is missing! The Emperor's knights are blocking all way out!"

You heart felt like dropping when you saw a nearby knight were looking one by one at the women nearby, specifically women who are similarly pregnant like you. Speaking of the devil, they are already here!

Knights in horses, mages running around the busy street. Some of them stopping women who has similar hair color as you to assess if they found the right person.

"Oh my! I'm hoping the consort is doing okay! She must have acted such way due to her failing mental state. The emperor must have been worried sick, I can't imagine the devastion look of the emperor especially their son!" said the woman to her husband.

You hid your hair with your cape and quickly blend in with the busy road of the night town. Muttering, "excuse me!", "Apologize!" As you force your way around the crowd. One arm around your belly to protect child, while your hand went to sling your bag with clothes and some gold coins. as you bump so many people on the crowd. You look edges of the town, at the gate, to see all the possible exits were starting to get block by the imperials knights and mages. You bit your lips frustration as you felt the hope of getting your freedom back is slipping away from your grasp.

Your plan of getting to the port has been discarded after seeing a two mage and three knights were on their way there. Even if you did go in town's gate the gatekeepers will inspect people who are exiting and entering.

But...

You look at the old man who was riding a donkey with his carriage towards to exit of the gate, fruits were laying under the cloth. An Idea quickly pop your head but you are desperate to leave this suffocating country so you have no choice but to execute it.

Your silent foot falls went behind on a slow moving carriage before climbing up silently and quickly, in your haste and desperation movement, you didn't feel as though you had torn your cape at the wooden edge of the carriage before taking the fabric that was covering the fruits that keeps them from dust and dirt. You carried a handful of fruits before slowly sitting down beside it then covering yourself with the said fabric and the remaining fruit fast enough before the knights from the gate of this region would notice you. You wince when one of the fruit hit your belly but not enough to endanger the baby.

"Have you seen this lady?" A man in his mid 60s look at the paper, he squint his eyes as he held his old lightly crack glasses to take a better look. Your (e/c) eyes look at the gapping hole of the carriage and gulp fearfully when you saw your portrait on the paper holding by the imperial knight.

"O-oh...sa-aw her!" you held your breath when the old man spoke. The two knights look at each other before listening to the next word of what the old man would say.

He lick his dry lips before continuing, his voice's struggling due to his old age, "If I-Im..not mistake-en the lady in the p-picture look like the lady I saw by the lampost o..on the rozahk street!"

You exhaled in relief since you mistakenly believed that the elderly man had just seen you, but he actually noticed you five minutes' walk from the gate to roza street. However, this would also let them know that you are actually close by.

The imperial knights gave the elderly merchant a nod as they hastily walked around the city, alerting a nearby mage to use a spell to track you. They quickly tell their subordinates for a new command.

You felt the carriage starts to move. Hugging yourself for reassurance especially at your upcoming baby that everything will be okay.

You weren't escaping just for yourself but for your second child that will be born. You don't want your kid to become like their older brother and learn from their father. Ruthless, and doesn't have a compassion to another human. You want your kid to have a brighter future, away from the blood shed. You hope that if you got caught or killed by your husband in the future. You will tell your second child to run away and never look back, when you are gone.

You ignored how uncomfortable it was to sleep in the fruits. You close your eyes and see the farm neighborhood that the carriage passed as well as the slowly dissipating kingdom that was beginning to appear as a dot on the horizon.

The abrupt shake of your ride woken you up. You hear noises outside the carriage and glance through the hole to see that light was creeping through, signaling that it was dawn but sun has yet to come in the horizon. What is happening?. You peek above the cloth seeing that you don't have enough visual on what's happening. A dusty road lay in front of you, and woods surrounded you. You turn around to look behind you and realize that the palace is no longer in sight. A sense of relief that you were indeed far from that prison.

A bunch of voices caught your ears, you turned to look to your right.

Your whole body went pale.

Your son-the crown prince was chatting with each of the roadside merchants who had just exited from their vehicle not far from where you were. The imperial warriors and mages that were conversing with the other sellers the same task as your son was doing just behind him.

You curse yourself, how did they come here to fast?

You need to leave before they notice that you are inside this carriage. Just as you swiftly escape your imprisonment. You carefully stood up, removing the fabric that was covering you and the fruits, ignoring the woozy and aches from your muscle pain for not moving too much from the entire night.

A creak was heard in your vehicle when you tried to climb down. Snapping your eyes back at them, to witness if they heard the mistake you made. To your relief, The prince and the other guards were still busy interrogating.

They didn't hear me..

You reach down and starts to stalk away from them, your hands were trembling. Stepping back to reach the wood just a 5 meters behind you. It didn't matter if you get lost in the woods, as long as they don't catch you.

No, you would rather live in a woods, in a forest where no one can reach you.

As you step forward carefully in to the woods, you didn't notice from your cautious and anxious state that your boots crack a twig, just like the cliché you previously read. The nearest knight snaps his head at the sound. He was perplexed before realizing that the woman from the paper in his hand resembles you.

"Her majes-"

You dash toward the woods. The imperial knights sought to catch up to you, as you heard him behind. You grab a nearby rock and shot it directly to his skull, and it hits him.

You ignored the yelp as he yells your honorific causing the nearby knights hear him and went for his aid, before they realize what he was yelling and starts to chase after you.

You felt the dress that was getting stuck on some of bushes and dried branches, resulting to have your dress to be ripped.

Heartbeat were thumping agressively, adrenaline were rushing around your body. One of your hands went up to your belly protecting it from getting injured despite your legs were now full of scratches and bruises from the twigs, and sharp edges of these woods. You feel your legs ache.

"Mother!" You faintly hear a galloping horses along with your son's voice behind you.

Your mistake was to look behind you while running away. You saw how your son and his guards were starting to gain just to bring you back to that hellhole. Your son Ize was reaching up his hand to take you back, his red orbs were full of concern and anxiousness.

"Mother! It's me,Ize! Please, slow down you will hurt yourself!"he yelled."Mother! Think about my sibling! Your child! Listen to me! Don't let this illness take over you!"

Poor child, he thought all of this nonsense that you are doing was because of your bogus illness.

You were about to stop when you saw a nearby cliff but a trunk made you tripped.

You screamed feeling a misstep when you realized you are falling, instinctively cradling your pregnant belly, protecting it as you roll down from the ground. A piercing scream was heard—from your son. Your head colliding to the three and it felt like your head would split open.

Your eyes were blurry from the impact. Touching your belly if there was injury. Atleast trying to feel your lower part if there was bleeding through your thighs other than your legs.

You look up at the steep cliff to see your son was sliding down, crying out your title as his mother. You saw his red orbs were full of tears as it glides down to his cheeks. The last thing you saw before your vision was consumed by the darkness was his hands reaching up to your head.

You were awoken by the sound of the chirping birds coming from the balcony.

You coughed, feeling the dryness from your throat. You eyes were blurry for a few minutes before clearing to see that you were back to the same imprisonment.

But....

It wasn't the same room you shared with your husband. Are you...even in the palace?

You took your time to assess your surroundings only to realize that the room has similarities of the royalties room that are exiled but it looked renovated, one of your husband's brothers used to live here before taking his own life. You felt grim about the thought of it.

After his brother's passing you heard from one of the maids that he turned it into a vacation palace for royalties.

It was different from the last time you saw it. It was much more cleaner and better. It looked good after it was renovated.

Wait, the baby.

THE BABY!

You eyes quickly gaze down to your belly. Hands quickly feeling around them, you exhale in relief when you felt a small kick from your stomach. You felt your tears at the edge of your eyes. It was a miracle that the heavens hadn't take your unborn child away.

I'm sorry baby...

They would have died from the stupidity you'd done!

You laid down to your right side of the bed and cradle in your stomach muttering a soft apologies and starts fluttering your eyes to go back to sleep.

But somethings not right. You felt like a pair of eyes watching you, looking at you.

Observing you.

You opened your eyes and look up only to see your pair of red eyes staring down at you.

Your husband, the emperor sitting on a wingback couch, his face resting at his hand while the elbow is resting at the arm of the couch beside him is a kettle with a cup that rest on top of the bedside table.

You feel your body tense up, you tried to get up and turn to look at your husband.

"Y-your majesty." You called but it sounded like a whisper. You don't know what he will do to you. Sure, he never hurt you physically but this is the first time you'd gotten far away from the place he imprison you in.

You gulped, will he hurt you this time?

"I-I'm... I.." you cannot come up a word,an excuse, what if he gets sick of you? What would happen to your child?

You felt your breath shorten. Tears are starting to swell up in your cheeks.

A rough hand brush on your cheeks before cupping it. You found your partner is already beside you on the bed.

He didn't speak he just let you weep as he brush away your tears. You stammer your words wanting to apologize. The emperor handed you a cup of water and you took it quenching the thirst from your larynx.

Once you drank it all, you hiccup trying to stop your tears from coming out. You felt his hands caressing your belly. "H-husband.."you gulped.

"hush,милашка."he commanded and you held your tongue and closed your eyes when he leans on your cheeks before engulfing you with his arms around you. You felt suffocating around him like a snake coiling around your body.

You feel tensed as he starts peppering kisses on your shoulders and neck before resting his lips to your earlobes, you shudder when he kissed it.

His right hand from your waist slid up under your loose sleeve before sliding it down, your emperor leaned down giving your shoulder a hickey. You whimpered trying to push him away but he hadn't budge an inch. Once he was satisfied he let your skin go with a pop before looking at the red mark he left.

The same hand went to brush your hair, tuck it behind your ear before leaning his forehead against yours. His red eyes held adoration, affection, but most of all obsession.

"милашка." He muttered closing his eyes sighing, he brush his lips against yours before deepening it.

He kept calling you, held you in his arms gently. The same arms that has full of blood that slay so many heads to get to the top of this food chain.

He laid you down before kissing every finger tips of yours and then clasping it with his rough hands as he called for you.

"милашка...."

".... my милашка..."

He pressed one kiss on your collarbone. "None of this is your fault..." He told you.

"... This illness will be the death of you."

Your heart broke for him. He really delude himself that everything you did to get away from him was because of your 'illness'.

"... Everything will be fine, darling. I will take care of you." He dampened his lips one last time onto your lips before leaving you in your new confinement.

[emmyrosee]

Don’t know if you’re taking request, but imagine modern college au where Toji has baby Megumi (the mother isn’t in their life) and reader, his girlfriend, have class together but has to bring Megumi along cause he has no babysitter or they cancelled, so while sitting on the back seat of the class, Megumi is playing with you hair for attention and so you pick him up and hold him and Megumi kicks his legs happy while he draws you all, as a big happy family UGH

IM GOINF TO DIEEEEEE THIS IS SO PRECIOUS AUGH

And secretly, you’re kind of glad when Megumi’s babysitter cancels, because the little boy is so sweet and so well behaved it’s like he’s not even there anyways, and yet you still adore spending time with him. So when Toji knocks on your door to pick you up, and there’s a tiny Megumi in his arms, he rolls his eyes as you squeal and take Megumi into your own arms, who instinctively wraps his around you.

“Yeah, hug him before me, how nice of ya,” he scoffs, but he smiles as you press a loving kiss to his lips.

“Not his fault I like him more than you,” you coo.

He snorts and grabs your book bag from the ground, carrying it as you make baby small talk with Megumi- what he colored the other day, the pretty kitty he saw on the walk to you, and the new highest number he learned to count to; which, he eagerly displays as you conclude your walk to class.

“You’re so smart, megumi!” You praise, nuzzling his nose with yours while Toji holds the door open for you both. You’re quick to make your way to the back, plopping down on the double table. “Baby, hold megumi for a sec?” You ask, and when Toji takes Megumi back into his arms, you take off your hoodie to lay it on the ground as a slight cushion. “There. Come get comfy Megumi!”

The small boy is let out of his father’s hold and makes his way to the hoodie, sitting down quietly before blinking his big eyes at you and Toji.

“I got your coloring books hold on,” Toji says, taking his own seat as he opens his bag. He pulls out a box of crayons, slightly worn from use, and a big coloring book, filled with dragons and knights for him to fill in. Megumi’s eyes light up as his father passes him the book, and he immediately goes to work.

The class starts like normal. No one says much about Megumi being there, an occasional smile or gesture for a high five from the small boy, but no one bats a negative eye. Megumi’s small but quiet, he’s a good kid who plays with his own toys and sits in place. No one really minds his company- especially not you.

Professor drones on for hours, talking about something you can’t pay attention to- you’re too busy playing with Megumi’s hair, carding the black locks and smiling down at him as he nuzzles into your touch. You’ll get the notes from toji later. You’ve got more important things to take care of.

It isn’t until megumi uncharacteristically stands up with a few crayons in his hand and reaches a hand up to stroke your head, smoothing down any hairs. You turn to him with a smile, patting your lap for him to crawl into, which he does eagerly. You flip your notebook to a random blank sheet- definitely making a note to get a rundown from Toji later- and let him color anything his heart desires. You bury your face into his tiny head of hair and gently rock both of you back and forth, only to smile when you feel Toji’s big, warm hand lay on your back, thumb smoothing up and down your spine. Megumi’s legs dangle and swing happily as he colors, occasionally humming in thought quietly.

The professor finally, after two hours, concluded his lesson, bidding you all farewell and dismissing the class. You stretch and take a peek over to Toji’s messy notes, and you chuckle and lean over to press a kiss to his cheek. “Pay extra close attention so you could teach me, huh?”

He snorts and turns his head to kiss your lips, “you had the kid, I knew your ass wasn’t going to pay attention. Besides- I can always tutor you later,” he chuckles.

You swat his chest with a laugh before turning back to Megumi, “what did you draw, lovey? Can we see?”

You see Megumi ponder for a moment, eyes looking down in thought before he looks up at you and nods quietly. When you open your notebook again, you nearly cry from the drawing.

It’s the three of you- toji drawn as a big square, you, a triangle, and Megumi a small circle. The two of them have dark scribbles to represent their hair, but Megumi took the liberty of being extra careful coloring your hair, making it look nice and pretty. You’re all encapsulated in a big, pink, messy heart that almost fills up the entire page.

“Who’s that?” Toji asks, pointing at a small circle between you and Megumi.

“Mr. Moo,” he says simply, referring to his tiny stuffed cow he sleeps with at night. Toji hums in acknowledgment, but you’re too busy burying your face against Megumi’s, kissing his tiny cheeks and squishing him close. He wraps his arms around you, merely out of instinct.

“Can I have it, Megumi?” You ask, and when the small boy nods, toji scoffs in offense.

“Hey. You got the last one- this one’s mine!” He argues.

“Uhhh, actually, you get Megumi all the time, so I call dibs on all his drawings,” you say back. “It’s a fair trade.”

“I’ll show you a fair trade,” he grumbles, but he leans down to pick up your bag all the same. “Come on. I need a coffee.”

“C’n I have donut?” Megumi asks.

“Why not?” Toji shrugs. “You were good today.”

“He’s good every day,” you hum happily.

[rainrot4me]

Just Relax

Summary: You’re stressed. Jack knows how to fix that.

Characters: Eyeless Jack x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: First time, stress relief, using orgasms as a way to relieve stress, teaching, inexperience, virgin, cunnilingus, blowjob, bad blowjob, grinding, tip fucking, vaginal, kinda creampie, Jack's a gentle giant, service top, claws, mentions of blood, mentions of gunshots, bullet wounds (not smut related), injury

Words: 5.8k

Being the only other medically intelligent resident in the mansion intensified your job.

Slender partnered you with Jack, the tall brooding organ-eating demon that spent most of his time either in his medical lab in the basement or face-deep in someone’s intestines. It was charming, really. 

Your jobs were to patch up the proxies and keep them running, their missions being insanely more dangerous than the average creep and constantly landing them on Jack’s workbench. You were tasked with helping the demon: holding wounds closed, getting his supplies, or even rounding some innocent bystander up for his dinner. You were always on the move, always completing some requests. And it was seriously taking a toll. 

You were becoming restless, your body always aching and your mind never quiet from the constant stress you faced. You tried to hide it, but as the bags under your eyes grew from the lack of good sleep, it became harder to put on a good face. Especially around the demon who ordered your every move. 

So when Jack occasionally got restless and left you in his lab to go hunt, you usually would spend the time tidying up or catching a quick nap. But when a bloodied Tim stumbled down the basement steps and through the door, heaving from exhaustion, you panicked. 

The tall brunette stumbled into your arms, coughing loudly as you tugged him to the medical table and laid him down, his jacket dark with blood and dirt. He had been shot, twice in the gut, it looked like. You grit your teeth, tugging his jacket and shirt off as you carefully watch his face, his eyes already beginning to flutter shut. Shit. Where the hell was Jack?! It wasn’t that you didn’t know what to do, it was just that Jack was more familiar with these things. You were just an assistant. But you had no choice, curse the demon and his greedy tongue. 

You pulled the medical tray towards you, the metal pan littered with different tools you were familiar with. You grabbed a cloth, dousing it with sterile alcohol and wiping Tim’s gut, forcing his chest down as he hissed against the sting. You had to be quick, there was no telling how long the poor guy was hauling himself here and bleeding out quickly. After cleaning his skin, more blood gushed, but you were finally able to tell where the entrance holes were. “Just hold on.” You grit, grabbing the long tweezers from the tray and focusing, pressing your arm against Tim’s chest as you slowly sink the cold prongs into the wound. The large man cried out, fists clenching the soft padding of the table as you prodded for the bullet, pushing deeper until you felt an abnormality lodged deep into his skin. You were way too shaky for this, your unsteady hands likely to tear his wound further as you pinched the small bullet and unlodged it from his gut. You needed Jack, now.

And like a god-sent, you heard loud boots stomping down the wooden stairs, a tall figure emerging through the open door as you dropped the bloody bullet onto the tray. “[Y/N]? What’s all this blood- oh shit.” Jack’s monotone voice muffled behind his mask, his head instantly snapping to you as you turned to him, panicked and hands covered in Tim’s blood. 

The demon was quick, grabbing the tweezers from your hand and pressing over the bleeding man, doing a much better job of retrieving the second bullet as you slid to his side, offering your help as always. He popped the tiny metal onto the tray, quickly grabbing disinfectant and eyeing you as he returned to the bloody scene, trying his best not to apologize right now.

-

Before you knew it Tim was back upstairs asleep in his bed, his torso wrapped in clean bandages and veins full of liquid painkillers. The procedure went by quickly after Jack arrived, making quick work of getting the man cleaned up after his latest mission. You sat at Jack’s desk, face hidden in your hands as you finally caught your breath, fingers still stained with his blood. The demon leaned awkwardly against the edge of the table, mask long discarded on the now clean table now that you were in the privacy of each other. Jack had stopped using his mask around you long ago when he realized you would be together every day, pushing past his instincts and accepting your presence wholeheartedly. He appreciated the help more than you knew. 

“I’m sorry…” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he watched you, palms rubbing your tired eyes as you looked up, but not at him. “It’s fine.” You wanted to accept his apology, but your angry sleep-deprived brain wouldn’t let you, a snarky response being all that you could offer. Jack could hear your irritation, cringing to himself as crossed his arms, looking down to the floor. “Like, seriously. That was completely me. I sho-” 

“I said it’s fine, Jack.” You cut him off, huffing as you pushed off the desk and began picking up random trash around the lab. You refused to look at him as you tried to occupy yourself, begging your angry tongue not to attack him further. But Jack, being himself, pushed further, begging for your forgiveness. “But it’s not. I mean, how can I make it up to you?” He pushed, circling in front of you and reaching for your shoulders, the demon easily towering over you as you strained your neck to look up at him. “You can’t, okay?” You snarled, pushing off of him and tossing random syringe packets into the trash, slipping away from him. You were fuming, unreasonably, but you couldn’t help it as you breathed quickly, face growing hot. You were becoming overstimulated, your hair pressing too close against your neck, this room suddenly becoming way too cramped, and your head just hurting, begging for you to just lay down. 

Jack crossed his arms, sitting back against the medical table as he watched you stomp around, his knee tapping worriedly. “But-” Just hearing his voice was beginning to make you mad, his need to apologize becoming so whiney in your mind. “Listen, Jack. I don’t fuckin’ need your sorry, okay? What I need is to be left alone. I’m stressed out of my mind, alright?” You snapped, shoulders tense and hands flinging with every word. Jack just watched quietly, his dark sockets staring blankly at your red face. He knew you were stressed, how could he not? But he also knew this was the result of days of suppressing that stress, refusing to acknowledge just how overwhelmed you were until you got to this point, your words moving faster than your mind could stop. He didn’t take it to heart, it was all emotional and he knew that. But what he did do was push further, despite your anger. 

“Then why don’t you rest? Like, take the day off or just take a minute. I don’t know, have a shot or something.” You leaned back against Jack’s desk, rubbing your face as you groaned, your head pounding. “You don’t think I’ve tried? Can’t catch a wink of sleep because my mind won’t just stop. I’ve been on a high drive all week.” You whined, tears pricking your eyes as the demon watched you, brows knitting as you wiped your eyelids. He thought quietly, sockets studying you annoyingly as you wiped your hair from your face, irritation growing when he wouldn’t look away.

“Have you tried masturbating?” For a second, you really couldn’t tell if your ears were working right, convinced you were still in shock as you glared at him. What the fuck kind of question was that? Thinking he was joking, you laughed dryly, rolling your eyes. “Very funny, Jack.” But he wasn’t laughing, his face dead serious as he arched a brow expectantly. That’s when your face grew hot, cheeks growing a darker tint until you forced yourself to look away, avoiding his piercing gaze. You screwed your eyes shut, embarrassed. You hadn’t, but you felt like he had already come to that conclusion as he pushed off of the table, stepping closer to you and making your breath hitch. He tilted his head, arms crossed tightly as he strained the answer out of you.

“No, okay? I don’t have time for that shit. And besides, I wouldn’t even know how.” Such trivial things had never crossed your list of wants when you were working under Slender. You had more important things to worry about like completing missions or saving someone’s life. Touching yourself hadn’t really crossed your mind. 

Jack scoffed, his hands uncurling to rest against his hips. “What? You mean like, you don’t know how to jerk off?” It was embarrassing when the demon said it out loud, your eyes screwing shut and cheeks hot before him. But he only stepped closer, his tall stature suffocating you. You shook your head, refusing to look up. “Why would I need to? I’m not some dog in heat.” 

That one struck harder than you meant for it to. You were all too familiar with Jack’s seasonal heat cycles, his demon instincts overriding his thoughts a couple of times a year and driving him to seclusion for a week or so. Those were the times you hated the most when he wasn’t around, wasn’t there to guide you during a procedure or appreciate your efforts. So when you looked up at him, fearful that he was going to go off on you for your careless insult, you were surprised to see his face so calm. 

“Yeah, you need to jerk off.” He smiled, a little teasing in his voice as you scowled. “Listen, orgasms are good for relieving stress. So, if you’re going to keep working, you either need to learn how, or let me help you.” His words felt like a joke, but his face was so sincere you had to readjust, your stomach tightening with butterflies. He couldn’t be serious, help you? 

But as his gray-blue claws rested on his hips, head tilted to stare at you below him, you couldn’t help but squirm. He was looming closer, his jagged smile teasing but earnest as your face became hot. This was embarrassing, letting practically your boss coerce you into letting him get you off. You wanted to say no, to fight him off and persevere by yourself. But when the flutters in your stomach turned to throbbing between your thighs, you groaned, giving up. 

“Fine. But… I don’t know what I’m doing. Like, I’ve never done anything like this before.” You mumbled, pushing off the wall and standing inches from him, straining your neck to look at his toothy grin. “It’s okay, pet. I’ll be gentle.” 

Pressing his claw behind your back, he guided you to the medical table, pushing you to the end. You panicked slightly when he scooped under your armpits and picked you up easily, setting you on the edge so you were level with his chest. You wanted to stop, the sudden closeness making you overwhelmed, but when his claws rested on your hips, you tensed. “Relax.” He cooed, leaning in to press a chaste kiss against your cheek. You were speechless.

Your friendship with Jack was close, and your mutual understanding of how difficult both of your lives were plus the forced proximity made it easier to become quick friends. But as his warm lips pressed down your jaw to your neck so comfortably, you questioned everything you thought you knew about the two of you. He was eager, but soft, nipping against your skin as you tilted your neck, gasping softly as goosebumps ran over you. He was nudged between your legs, his short hair tickling your ear as his claws gripped you tight, holding your hips down. You couldn’t help but rest your hands on his shoulders, pushing back slightly as he moved to the other side of your neck, little red spots appearing everywhere he nipped with his fangs. 

“Jack…” He smiled, letting off your neck and pecking your cheek again, leaning back to look at you. Your face was hot, cheeks dark and flustered, but he thought you looked cute. You, however, had your thoughts running a mile a minute, confused but oh so excited as his claws slipped under the hem of your shirt. Jack could smell your arousal and it made him hungry, so rarely, for something other than guts. 

“Shh, lean back.” He hummed, slipping your shirt up and off your head and making you whine. Placing your hands behind you, you leaned back, stunned when he slipped his nails into your shorts and tugged them down your thighs, purring at the sight of your panties. You couldn’t believe he was actually serious, slipping the fabric off your ankles and tossing them to the ground, hands quick to reach your hips again. You placed your hands on his chest, holding him back from attacking your neck again. “You don't have to do this. I’ll be fine.” You grit, eyes nervously flickering between his face and his crotch pressed so closely between your legs. He just smiled, rubbing your waist. “This is for you. If you’re going to keep working, I need you in good condition. Just relax, pet.” He cooed, pushing back against your chest so you lay on the padded table, feet dangling. You were practically vibrating, unsure of exactly how to lay or move so you just gripped the leather awkwardly, watching the demon run his claws over your thighs.

“I need you to talk to me. Don’t let me overwhelm you.” He said sternly, hooking under your panties and tugging them down, your legs instinctively clutching together. “Too late.” You whined, pushing your hands down to cover yourself as you breathed heavily. Jack only chuckled, gripping your wrists gently and pulling them to your sides as he kneeled. You watched him nervously, his face now even with your closed thighs as he pushed your knees apart, checking your expressions. The demon knew you needed this, knew you were excited. He just needed to show you to let go. 

Spreading your legs despite your protests, Jack scooped his arms under your thighs, tugging you closer to him until he was inches from your pretty cunt. He breathed deep, sighing at the sweet scent of your excitement that coaxed him closer. His dark sockets never moved from your panicked face, sitting up slightly as you watched his lips smile, your eyes wide. This was insane. But before another desperate attempt to get him to rethink this left your lips, one of Jack’s dark, long tongues licked a thick stripe between your folds. Your back hits the leather immediately, a shaken gasp slipping through as you tense your thighs closer. Jack’s strong arms held them apart just fine, chuckling to himself as he watched your pupils blow wide. His tongue was so warm and slick, his thick saliva running through your lips and making you shudder. “Jack-”

He was already back again, long tongue running flat up your cunt and flicking on your clit. Your gasp was ragged, fingernails digging into the padding underneath as you craned your neck to see the demon. Jack was staring at you, the corners of his open mouth twitched up to a smile as he flicked the tip of his tongue against your already twitching clit. The feeling was so unfamiliar, so odd but so heavenly. He seemed so skilled, so eager to tug the little sounds out of you as he dove deeper, your bottom lip slipping into your teeth. 

“You alright, pet?” He mumbled, tongue quick to lick a thick stripe between your folds again, pressing a soft kiss against your soaked lips and giving you a moment to breathe. His claws were kneading the softness of your thighs, his thumb rubbing against your burning skin. Were you alright? Your breathing was heavy, quick and sharp as you stared at him, cheeks hot and flushed. You were nervous, your body unsure of what it was even feeling, but you knew you needed more. More of whatever his delicious tongue was offering. 

So, you nodded, leaning back but keeping your head up, watching nervously as he kissed your inner thighs softly. He smiled again, kissing his way back down to your folds and sliding his tongue out again, spreading the lips around his warm tongue. You groaned, biting your lip as you tried to contain the noises that dared to get louder, unaware that you could even make sure vulgar sounds. Jack was back to flicking against your clit again, eyelids heavy as he relished in the way you fought yourself. You were so desperate to contain what he knew you needed to let out, so he slid deeper, his long tongue slipping against your tight entrance. 

You panicked slightly, stomach clenching when you felt him press against your hole. He didn’t move, eyes trained as you gripped the leather, your face hot and heavy. Your thighs threatened to close, Jack’s claws digging slightly to keep them apart but not pulling farther. Your clit was throbbing, aching from the loss of the demon’s tongue but alive with the new sensation. He blinked at you, reading every expression as he dared further, the tip of his thick tongue slipping inside of your cunt. At the sensation, you didn’t expect your hips to jerk, legs tensing as he pressed inside, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Jack held you close, your tight entrance accepting the warm intrusion as you clenched and throbbed. It was so unfamiliar, but so warm, so filling. 

The further his tongue pressed in the faster your hands slid down to run through his brown hair. You gripped tight, tugging lightly as his lips pressed flush against your folds, his eyelids fluttering shut as he soaked in your warmth. You tasted heavenly, your arousal thick around his tongue as he breathed deep, letting you adjust. His tongue contoured easily through your cunt, rubbing gently against your gummy walls until your hips were squirming, begging for movement. You couldn’t even explain your movements, your body taking control and guiding itself against him. But when Jack’s thick tongue eventually curled against your warmth, lapping at your ecstasy, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. 

“Jack!” It came out ragged, like you were gasping for air that was being stolen with every curl. You tugged against the demon’s hair, his groans vibrating against your cunt and making you whine louder. It was too much. The unfamiliar stretch, the warmth, and even his noises were making you lose yourself. “Ahn- Oh my… Oh my God-” You moaned loudly, your resistance thinning with every pull of his long tongue. Your body twitched against him, your hips stuttering and grinding uncontrollably. His thumb still brushed against your thigh, that one constant keeping you aware the deeper he probed his tongue. Your back arched off the table, unsure if you were trying to pull away from him or angle him deeper, but he moved with you. 

The wet schlick of his tongue tugging in and out of your tight cunt made you groan, eyes screwed shut. You were so overwhelmed, but Jack was quick to read you, quick to adjust his speed the louder you got and bring you back down to a comfortable pace. Your lightheadedness appreciated that, your cunt slick and gummy as your arousal built, his lips becoming soaked. But Jack was in heaven. You tasted so good, so unexplainably good that he couldn’t dare remove his tongue. Your arousal was so sweet, but so sour in his mouth, his groans vibrating against your cunt. But it was pooling now, building heavily. He knew you were close, so he curled harder. 

“Jack, I- Ah! I think I’m gonna- gonna cum…” You mewled, his grinding down against his mouth as you tugged his hair closer, pressing his head deeper between your thighs. You were so sweaty, so hot and overwhelmed, but you couldn’t stop. There was a thick knot in your abdomen, your arousal peaking louder. Jack grumbled, nodding his head lazily as his eyelids tightened, focused on reaching deeper and tasting more of you until your body couldn’t resist anymore.

You came hard. It was such an unfamiliar sensation, your entire body wracking and tensing itself, a sharp moan crying from your lips. You leaned forward, Jack quick to adjust and pull your hips up so he could drink up every inch of you that spilt onto his tongue nestled so deeply inside of you. You were crying out, your fingers gripping his hair so tightly you were afraid you’d rip it from his scalp, but Jack could only moan. “Fuck- Fuck!” Your thighs were shaking, the demon’s large claws gripping tighter so he could relish in the feeling of his tongue being squeezed by your throbbing cunt as you rode out your orgasm. Your breathing was loud, your cheeks hot as you panted and strained against the tongue still nestled inside. You waited for him to slip out, but he never did, his tongue still prodding against your soaked walls. 

The demon’s eyelids eventually opened, his cheeks dark as he held you close, his lips swollen against your folds. You were so stunning, every inch of your burning skin glowing under your ecstasy as he slipped another tongue out of his mouth. It slid against your folds, just as thick and long as the first one but finding a new direction as you whined loudly. He wasn’t done with you yet, he couldn’t be, not when your body called to him so desperately. So his second tongue flicked against your clit the same way he did before, pitching the tiny cries and whines out of you he loved to hear. You were quick to react, your body still sensitive but desperate to chase that high again as you jerked against his tongue, hips stuttering even harder. Jack didn’t go too fast, pressing just hard enough and just quick enough to make your arousal build up, but watching you closely to make sure he didn’t press your sensitive body too far. He was careful, diligent with his every flick and curl. You were falling apart all over again.

“Jack, I’m- I can’t again-” You whined, legs heavy on his arms as he groaned, hugging them close to his head. The demon dug his knees into the ground, his cock pressing hard against his jeans but he ignored it, focused only on you and making you spill on his tongue again. “Yesh, yu can…” He lulled against your cunt, eyelids fluttering with every slick of his tongues. You wanted to resist, wanted to fight back against him, but he had pulled every ounce of your fight out. Jack was pushing you into some headspace you had never experienced before, your mind running on fumes and ecstasy. So you just let go. 

It was no time before you were cumming again, your orgasm much quicker than the last. Jack didn’t hold your thighs apart this time, he slid his claws up your waist, letting your plush legs wrap around his head and squeeze tightly as he groaned. The demon was slowly cracking under you, his mind running rampant as he drank down more of your sweet arousal, pushing off of his knees and to his feet until your hips were completely off the table. Your shoulder blades pressed back against the padding, your loud moans echoing in his ears and making him grin. Your cunt was wrecked, sopping wet and swollen as his tongues finally slid back, tugging out of your stretched cunt and back into his mouth. You watched through heavy lids, sweat sticking to your forehead and making you feel all hot and exhausted.

But Jack was lost in your body, eyelids heavy over his sockets as he leaned over you, pressing wet kisses against your stomach and back up to your chest. You were heaving, goosebumps rushing along your warm skin as the demon reached under your back and unclipped your bra, sliding it off of your shoulders. “So pretty…” He mumbled, kissing along the skin around your nipples until you were hissing. He peered up at your red face, grinning as he slid his arms around your waist and tugged you up to his chest, pressing you close to him. “Did so good, huh? Don’t you feel better?” He cooed, rubbing your back with his nails gently, leaving goosebumps against your skin. 

You did feel better. In fact, you didn’t feel anything but good. Your mind was blank, only the cool leather under your soaked cunt making you twitch, pleasure still coursing through your muscles. Jack was nestled between your legs, chin tucked over your head as he smiled, breathing in how amazing you smelt under him. But this close, you could feel his boner pressed tightly against your thigh, the large bulge making your eyes widen. The demon had done so much for you, it was only right you do something in return. 

You slid your hand down between you, cupping his bulge and rubbing gently until Jack was groaning. You tried to unbutton his jeans, but he was quick to lean back, gripping your wrists. “There’s no need for that. You need to rest.” He grinned, pressing your hands back to your sides gently. You pouted, straining against his arms to reach back again. “You helped me. Now let me help you… Even if it won’t be very good, I can still try.” You peered up at him, eyes wide and pleading as you felt some sense of need wash over you. Jack watched you carefully, contemplating with himself before sighing and rubbing his neck. “Okay. But do not push yourself.” He warned, letting go of your wrists and helping you slide off the table. 

The demon grunted when your hands found his bulge again, your heart pounding in your chest as you unbuttoned his jeans nervously. You had no fucking clue what you were doing, but you pushed his jeans back anyways, his boxers doing little to hide his girth. Jack’s claws rubbed your shoulder gently as you tugged his boxers down, gasping when his length bobbed out. He was… huge. You had never really seen a dick before, but you knew Jack was above average. The demon towered above you anyway, so it only made sense that his length would carry through. But even still, it was hard to focus as you watched the girth twitch in the air. Jack’s claw gripped your shoulder tighter now, watching you carefully.

Taking a deep breath, you kneeled, the demon taken back but quick to adjust. Your wide eyes flicked nervously between his face and the cock in front of you, hands nervously gripping his thighs as you pressed closer. Jack was nervous himself, studying your every move. Licking your lips, you pressed a kiss against the tip, shocked by how warm the flesh was as you lifted your hand to grip the base. Jack sighed, fisting his hands at his sides. You licked your lips again, the salty taste making you press further. You flattened your tongue, licking the head and slowly pumping the length in your hand, unsure if you were even doing this right. But when the demon groaned, pressing his hips closer, your stomach fluttered. 

There was no way you were fitting that in your mouth. So instead you tugged his cock to the side, pressing your lips against the side and sucking gently, jerking your hand slowly. You mouthed against the base, slipping licks up the length until Jack’s claws were resting against your head, rubbing gently and gritting his fangs. It wasn’t good and you knew that, but Jack didn’t care, all he knew was that you were trying and that was all that mattered to him. “Yeah, doing so good pet… Keep moving your hand just like that…” The demon cooed, running his thumb against your cheek. Your stomach fluttered wildly, your mouth sliding to the tip and sucking at his slit. You could taste the bitterness as you run your tongue against the head, Jack's arousal pushing through his gritted teeth. “Fuck…”

You dared, pushing your jaw open and flattening your tongue as you took the tip inside. You tried to press further, but your throat constricting as you gagged pushing you back, tears pricking your eyes. “Ah, careful-” Jack hissed, pressing his hands against your cheeks and pushing you back, but you resisted. You took the head in your mouth again, tongue swirling as your screwed your eyes shut, pumping your hand along the rest of the length. The demon groaned, hands still pressing against your cheeks gently as he begged you to take it slow. His skin was hot, cock twitching in your mouth every time you sucked. “Easy, pet… Yeah, just like that…” He groaned, brushing the hair off of your forehead and admiring your flushed face. You tried to press further, but you would gag and force yourself back, head bobbing as far as you could go before slobber pooled on your lips. You pumped his length quickly, making up for the rest of the length you couldn’t get. Jack was vibrating under your mouth, claws gripping desperately in your hair and brushing the tears from your eyes. “Shit, [Y/N]...” Your jaw was becoming sore, but you pushed, begging your throat to take him.

Until Jack gripped your chin, tugging it down and pulling you off of his tip. You whined, pushing back against his hands but he was already pushing you to the floor, back pressed down against the cold concrete of the basement. Jack kneeled between your legs, spreading them wide as he tugged off his shirt, tossing it to the side. “You did so good, pet… So good… Let me…” He hissed, pumping his cock in his claws and pushing your knees apart. Your eyes widened, heart pounding underneath his hungry gaze. “Jack- I don’t know if I-” But he was already rubbing your thigh gently, pulling your hips to meet his. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He cooed, breathing heavily above you.

Jack pressed his cock down, angling your hips up against his thighs so your cunt laid flat in front of him, your hands gripping onto his knees. Your heart was pounding, eyes flicking nervously as you watched Jack press his cock down, sliding his wet length through your soaked folds and groaning loudly. His tip nudged against your clit, your hips jerking as you gasped, digging your nails into his jeans. “Feels good, yeah?” He purred, slowly grinding his cock down against your cunt, pressing his thumb against the length to keep himself between your folds. You were whining, pressing your hips up to grind against his length as he ground down into you. His tip nudged against your clit with every thrust, the nub twitching against the contact and making your abdomen tighten. “Just like that, Jack…” You whined, his left hand clamping around your hip and pulling you close to him, rubbing the skin gently. 

The demon didn’t thrust fast, more concerned with pushing those beautiful moans from your lips rather than speeding you through an orgasm. He thought the buildup was better anyway. “I can feel your cunt clenching underneath me…” He mewled, pushing his head down with his thumb to grind against your clit, making you hiss. Jack could smell you even heavier now. Two orgasms deep you smelled even more delicious, your heart thudding in his ears as you stared at him through heavy, tired eyes.

That was all it took for him. Jack pressed forward, hands gripping to your waist and leaning over you, pressing his lips against yours. Future consequences be fucked, all he cared about was how amazing you looked and felt gripping onto his shoulders as he ground down into you. You were crying out, hips thrusting up to meet his cock, your folds sliding around his girth and clit throbbing so perfectly. “I want you to cum against me, pet… Let me feel you fall apart under me…” Jack smiled, pressing his lips against your cheek and licking the sweat off your face. You moaned deeply, nails digging into his shoulders as you arched your hips up, angling just right.

Jack moaned out, claws sharp against your skin as the tip of his cock slipped into your entrance, the tight hole stretching around him snugly. “Do it- Do it inside, then…” You gasped, pushing past the sting of your cunt stretching around his head and grinding your hips up, your orgasm nipping at your abdomen. Jack hissed, his hips thrusting down shallowly and popping his tip in and out, stretching you just right. “So perfect… Cum on my cock then, pet… I’ve got you…” He grinned, sweat dripping off his nose as he nestled into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist as he fucked you open. 

The tip of his cock pushing just right against the entrance of your walls made you cry out, cunt clenching down tightly around his head before you were cumming around him. Jack growled, breathing deeply as he stalled his hips, his cock twitching against the sudden tightness, pushing him over. His warm seed spilt into your cunt, his cock pulsing as he leaned back and jerked himself off quickly, keeping the tip inside of you as he gripped your waist tight. “Such a good pet… Took me so well, yeah? Taking all my cum like a good girl…” He smiled, giving his hips one last jerk as pushing his tip deep into your entrance for good measure before pulling out. You huffed, cunt throbbing and pulsing as he pulled out, the demon’s warm seed quick to spill out of your entrance and down your cunt, seeping onto your skin. Jack couldn’t help but growl, pressing kisses along your hot skin as you caught your breath, clinging to the large demon. 

When you eventually settled down, eyes heavy and head light, Jack scooped you up, leaning your head against his shoulder. He carried you through the mansion quickly, lucking no prying eyes around to see him carry you to his room and shut the door quickly. He cleaned you up, careful to be gentle against your sensitive folds as he ran a warm rag against you, your tired body clinging to him. “Just relax…” Jack smiled, pulling his sheets back and laying you down, quick to slip beside you and press his warm body against your side, scooping you against him. Your head was so light, your body so heavy and tired against him that you couldn’t resist. You were quick asleep, light snores making Jack chuckle as he breathed your scent deep, pressing his nose against your head and letting his own eyes shut.

Needless to say, you had never slept so well.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

Orcs who can’t reproduce on their own as they’re a mono-sex species. There’s no real concept of gender in an orc village, and how humans, elves, and minotaur have different gender expectations baffles them. There’s work to be done! Who cares what’s in your pants when there’s chores that need doing!

Reproductively speaking, it does mean that in order to have kids orcs need people from other species will to carry their kids.

Usually this manifests in two ways. 1) members of a village go out into the world, explore, fall in love, and bring their spouse back to their village to start a family (though some won’t return to their village and will just start their family with their new spouse whenever they are). 2) it’s pretty common for a village to offer someone an easy life of being doted on an pampered in return for bearing the next generation of kids with them.

In these villages kids are raised communally, orcs maybe have a guess which kids might share their blood, but it doesn’t matter, all kids are theirs.

It’s a soft free use sort of set up. If you say no or not now it’ll be respected, though you really will be disappointing all those orcs who just want to spoil you and love you and see you round with their kids. Gently being passed around, fawned over, some days your feet never even touch the ground because they insist on just carrying you anywhere you want to go.

You never have to life a finger, constantly attended to, though they’re also so happy to teach you any skills you want! Always wanted to learn to sew clothes? There’s a tailor teaching you and fawning over your messy stitches like it’s the most beautiful thing ever created? The potter shows off the terrible plate you made with pride, just happy that you wanted them to teach you? Blacksmithing? Hunting? Anything you want.

A pampered life where you’re so deeply loved and treasured.

It takes a little time to get used to all the fucking though. They do their best to let you have time to yourself and enjoy being spoiled, but you did promise that they could have you whenever they want. You don’t know the last time you had a night where you weren’t fucked to sleep, taking load after load in your cunt, ass, and mouth from whoever wanted to fuck you until you were so sleepy you couldn’t keep your eyes open. Your last partner still hard inside you and pumping a few more loads while you rested and then cockwarming them all night. Gently being woken up in the morning because they just couldn’t wait any longer and needed to fuck you again or a new partner sliding into easily as you’re still slick with cum and your own juices.

Walking through the village to be tossed over someone’s shoulder and brought home for them to fuck, or if they’re impatient just being bent over the nearest surface and being fucked in the middle of the village.

You’re rarely with one partner at a time. If you’re being fucked publicly several other orcs quickly join in. Even if you’re in your own home or behind closed doors at someone else’s you’re always quickly overheard and more join in.

You’re always kissed and snuggled after, and usually during. They’re very affectionate and just adore everything about you!

Short fic based on this