#they don’t linger on the past if they can help it

[randombush3]

ojalá te amara

alexia putellas x reader

prologue, que te quiero, busco lo de antes, te hacemos falta

summary: you wake up but you're not sure where

words: 2664 (short and sharp i would say)

content warnings: just me feeling bad for what i'm presenting you with

notes: it's being set up for a resolution te lo juro

“You’re watching me.” 

Eyes, that’s what you catch a glimpse of. And it’s obviously Alexia, because who else would be here? 

You feel her look away, but that does nothing to veil the tension she carries around with her, the charge she puts between you whenever you are remotely close. The guitar in your hands feels like it is fizzing – or maybe that is your skin, your fingers familiar, familiar for once, and itching to play it. 

“You haven’t touched it in years,” she replies after careful consideration. “Reminds you of your father.” 

“He never played for me–” 

“You played for him,” she cuts in. You forget that you are not a stranger to her. She does this a lot, finishing sentences and stories and phrases as though she carries an encyclopedia around that details your life. Or as though she loves you, but that is more difficult to come to terms with. “Still, you didn’t want to remember anything about it.” 

“I should be more careful about what I wish for,” you joke. She winces, unashamed of it. 

A command rests on her lips, tickling the tip of her tongue. It’s an unloaded bullet. You shoot yourself. 

“Sit,” you say.

She sits, her movements deliberate, slow enough that you can’t help but track every inch of her as she does. The bedroom suddenly feels smaller, tighter, as if the four walls have leaned in to listen. 

“You’re going to play it.” It isn’t a question. She maps out your actions like they are inevitable, like she is omniscient, like she is your god. 

“Didn’t say that,” you counter, though your voice lacks conviction. Her presence always seems to do this – pulls what little certainty you have left out by the roots leaving you exposed and flustered. It has worsened in the past few days. 

You look down at the guitar, your fingers grazing the strings, and they hum under your touch. Here we are, they say to you. You’re not surprised that you hadn’t wanted to play it before now. You can only remember his favourite songs, the slow slump of his mask, slipping off his face until he resembled a happier man. A man he used to be. 

It’s painful to not remember his death. Being told about it is not the same. 

“Didn’t need to,” she says, leaning back on her palms, posture as composed as her words. But her eyes – God, her eyes – betray her. They dart from your hands to your face, they linger too long on your mouth, dark with something you can’t ignore. Something you haven’t been able to stop seeing ever since you caught it. 

You swallow hard. “You’re good at making people do things they don’t want to do.” 

“Am I making you do anything?” Her voice drops, almost a whisper, but there is a challenge threaded through it. She tilts her head, a lock of hair slipping loose from behind her ear. You watch it fall, noticing its dampness, noticing the faint sheen of her skin that tells you she has just gotten out of the shower. 

She must have come back from training early, yet she looks anything but tired. 

“Always,” you say, finally meeting her gaze. She doesn’t flinch, seemingly unfazed. If anything, her lips curve upwards, not quite a smile, not quite definable, but enough to leave your chest tight. 

“You’re too dramatic,” she murmurs. The charge between you snaps, crackling like static. You realise too late that she has closed the space between you until you can feel her knee brushing against yours. It’s light, accidental maybe, but it sets off a pulse through your entire body. 

“Alexia.” Her name leaves your mouth like a warning, but its direction is unclear. Is it to her, or to yourself? Is it a reminder that this isn’t something she has readily available to her anymore? Or do you simply want to tell her what she is getting herself into? 

Her knee remains against yours, a bridge that is not prepared to cross this river. She doesn’t move, doesn’t pull back, and you are not convinced she will. Not unless you tell her to, and even then, she doesn’t seem like she’d listen.

Alexia is putting a stop to something. Or starting something else. 

“You should stop,” you say, words hollow and frail. 

“Should I?’ Her voice is velvet, teasing at the edges. She shifts slightly, just enough for her knee to press more firmly into yours. It’s deliberate. She’s deliberate. Every move she makes is calculated, intentional, and that knowledge burns through, bright and undeniable.

“You think you’re clever,” you murmur, hand tightening around the neck of the guitar, fingers moulding into the fretboard. The strings groan quietly under the pressure, but you barely notice. 

And she says, “no.” She believes her answer. “But you are afraid.” 

That hits like a blow. You blink, grip faltering, but she doesn’t look away. Her gaze is steady, sharp, cutting through the distance that you have maintained. 

“I’m not afraid.” It’s defensive, said too quickly, and you both know it. The ghost of a smirk crosses her lips, but it vanishes as quickly as it came. 

“Then what is it?” she asks, leaning forwards. The proximity is unbearable, intoxicating. Her scent – clean like soap, but faintly metallic, the lingering smell of exertion – wraps around you, making it impossible to think. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Your resort to such a childish retort is an opening. An opportunity. 

“No,” she says, tone measured, blunt. “What I’d like to know is why you won’t fuck me like I am still yours.” 

This is a battle you will not lose, you decide, inhaling sharply. 

“‘Like’?” 

She is searing, and her fire is contagious. You force your eyes to meet. You’re not going to yield. 

“I’m still yours,” she breathes. 

… 

“So you fucked?” Mapi is out of breath, running alongside Alexia as she keeps a furious pace during their laps, motivated only by her yearn for gossip. Strong legs certainly help, but it is not those that spur Alexia on. 

“Nope,” she grits out, speeding up as they turn the final corner, well ahead of the pack behind them. “And I haven’t had an orgasm since September,” she continues, Mapi trailing after her like an old dog who still wants to play, throat dry and chest heaving. 

“How are you sprinting?!” she shouts between gasps as her legs drive her forwards somehow until almost collapsing to a stop. 

Alexia hands her a water bottle, and Mapi takes it with her to the ground. 

“I haven’t had an orgasm for months,” Alexia repeats with a shrug. 

Mapi stares up at Alexia like she’s trying to decipher a code. Her brain, still foggy from the run, tries to plough on, mouth opening and closing a few times, but it takes a few attempts to get the words out. “That explains a lot.” 

Alexia raises an eyebrow, amused despite herself. “Explains what?” 

“Why you’re insufferable lately!” Mapi exclaims, throwing her arms out dramatically. The rest of the team are beginning to fill up their watering hole, but Alexia doesn’t seem to care. Mapi will probably let this slip to Patri anyway, and that will hardly allow her to keep this private. 

“Oh, definitely. And not the fact that my fiancée was in a life-threatening accident and remembers neither me nor our daughter.” Your daughter? Alexia doesn’t feel like correcting herself. 

“No, because she’s alive – you should be relieved.” Mapi bites her lip, “instead you’ve been left to stew in your horniness.” 

“I don’t think she wants to have sex with me!” Alexia whines, outburst still somehow reserved but her grasp on herself slipping just enough for Mapi to truly want to help her out. 

Mapi props herself up on her elbows, sweat dripping down her temple as she processes the conversation. “So you’re telling me she look at you like she wants to eat you alive–” 

Alexia cuts her off with a sharp glare. “Keep it clean, Mapi.” 

“I am keeping it clean! I’m just saying, she looks at you like that, and you still haven’t done anything?” 

Alexia exhales harshly, squeezing her empty water bottle so tightly that it screeches out a burst of air. She remembers yesterday, how you’d seemed intrigued, how she’d pushed. She remembers how it had been working; she had you convinced, had you reassured. She remembers how she’d fucked it up, how she should hae waited for you to kiss her. “It’s not that simple,” she replies. An understatement, really. 

“Isn’t it though?” Mapi stands, brushing grass off her legs. “She’s clearly into you, Ale. You’ve seen it, felt it. So what’s stopping you?” 

“She has to want it,” Alexia says, her voice low but firm. 

“She does,” Mapi insists. “You just said–” 

“No, Mapi,” Alexia interrupts, her tone sharper now. “She has to know she wants it. Has to feel. It can’t just be some reaction she doesn’t understand. It can’t be because she feels drawn to me, or because her body reminds something her mind doesn’t. It has to be her choice. She has to choose me. Otherwise…” Her voice trails off; she is not going to speak these fears aloud.

“And so you’ve told her you could have sex with her, and she’s looked enticed, but you’re not going to do it unless she, what? Jumps you in the middle of your kitchen? What’s your eleven-year-old going to think of that?” Alexia swats her friend’s arm, Mapi instantly regretting her little joke after the reminder of how strong her captain is. “Ow! That’ll bruise, you know.” 

“Don’t mention Amaia,” Alexia warns, not because Mapi is being rude, but rather bringing up her name in a conversation about difficulties fucking her mother seems morally wrong. “We’re trying to become a family again.” 

“And I take it you haven’t informed your fiancée about–” Alexia shuts the conversation off with the decision to end the team’s break and shoo them into the gym where the trainers are expecting them. 

…

You’re bored. Massively so. 

A decade ago, you were up to your ears in essays and books to read, searching for jobs, exploiting your connections as much as you could. You were in a productive state. You were fighting to win, prepared to do whatever it took. 

Now, you’ve been told to relax. You get sick pay. Your associates send you cards, your clients send you hampers. 

You are fucking sick of opening hampers and pretending to care about various artisanal jams. 

It’s nice for them to do that, although you assume it is more to uphold appearances then give you their deepest sympathies, but it is just another mundane task that everyone has conspired to give you in order to keep you distracted from the harsh reality of your situation. You can tell from your home office that you enjoyed your job. There are two desks, one is presumably Alexia’s, but yours, unlike her neutral backdrop for online interviews and video calls, is made for reading, for curling up in your leather desk chair and paging through bundles until every single detail of your case is known. It’s littered with reminders, scrawled on yellow post-its, about possible points and contacts and dates. When you look at it, you are jealous of the life you have built yourself. 

You don’t need to work, as Alexia has told you, trying to be comforting. She makes more than enough and you have your inheritance and savings to ensure financial independence if worst comes to worst. You don’t need to do much of anything, it seems, with staff to help and Eli to care for Amaia (who had been employed as her nanny before you and Alexia had even met). But it’s agitating. Humiliating. 

You don’t want to be a trophy… whatever label your relationship with Alexia deserves. 

“You’re not a trophy wife,” Alexia agrees, her fork prodding at the risotto you’ve made (not from memory), bemused by the conversation topic but not entirely surprised. Amaia is sleeping at a friend's house, playing a match tomorrow that requires her team to be en route earlier than necessary. The girl’s mother, Lucía, seemed conspiratorial when she insisted you allow yourself to rest and that the game will not be anything exceptional, what with them playing a weaker team from a rural town outside the city. With no child to worry or censor for, tonight feels like a very domestic date. 

“I’m not even your wife,” you can’t help but say, gently, humorously, but truthfully. 

Alexia frowns, but it is subtle and not meant to be seen. “Do you want to know about how we got engaged?” she asks, steering the conversation in a far more constructive direction. You can hear your therapist’s approval ringing in your ears. 

You think about it for a moment. The engagement ring was ruined in the accident and you haven’t been presented with its replacement. You’re not even sure what you’d want, though the delicate band on your finger (as seen in pictures) was a choice aligned with your taste. 

“Who did it?” Being eager seems sickening. You’re trying to play it cool, especially after quite possibly being defeated by the incident. 

“You,” she says without missing a beat, clearly still immersed in the moment, still engrossed in the timeline of it. You’re shocked, but maybe that is because in your brain, the last person you remember sleeping with was a man. The idea of women and how to date them has mentally not crossed your mind yet, though you have a family with one. “Rather abruptly, I must say. I really wasn’t expecting it.” You raise your eyebrows, scraping the last of your risotto from your plate. “See, I had planned to propose to you – I had a ring and everything. We’d had a Champions League away game, so it was longer and farther than usual. And you’d be in London for meetings the week before I’d left. We’d barely seen each other.” 

“We weren’t in paradise the entire time?” Your sarcasm is ignored. 

“The distance was making things a bit tense between us,” she continues, “and so I made sure to get a nice restaurant booked, one whose menu wouldn’t be too mature for Amaia.” You’re impressed she planned for Amaia to be there, but you try not to let that show on your face. Instead, you choose a mask of neutrality. “Anyway, we’d just arrived at the airport and I was expecting to get a taxi back home since it was late and, God, that law firm worked you like a dog. But you were there, in Arrivals. You and Amaia. And I just remember being so grateful, so thankful for my family, so relieved to see you guys.” 

You want to comment, but you don’t. Her eyes are shining and you, off all medication now that most of your physical injuries have healed, top up the two glasses of white set in front of you both on the table. 

“You asked me in the car, Amaia asleep in the backseat. I hit my head on the window, I was so shocked. And you’d said it so casually, a simple: let’s get married. Only you would be able to do that!” You laugh. She laughs too. “It was an easy thing to agree to. I still proposed formally at that restaurant, but you insisted you got all the credit.”

She watches as you take a sip of your wine, noticing the lipstick you’re wearing and how it smudges onto the glass. She notices most things about you. She can’t help herself. 

“Alexia,” you sigh, the cool wine doing nothing to ease the tightness of your throat, “I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t know how to make this work.” You take a deep breath. “I’m not sure if I can keep pretending that this is what I want.” 

[melosliving]

Can we get first time (having sex) with Aaron? And also one but Kelv version?🥹🥹🥹

let me cook !! i hope you’ll like it because actually this is my first time writing smut 😩 kelvin’s version is coming !

aaron pierre x girlfriend!reader

warning : +18 (MDNI), smut, first time sex-ish, protected sex (take notes pls and stop being careless), coochie eating, tits sucking

domestic, things were so domestic between you two. The clock read past 1 am, the kitchen dimly lit by the warm glow of the stove light. The half-eaten cake sat forgotten on the counter as Aaron’s thumb brushed the corner of your mouth. His fingers lingered, tracing your bottom lip slowly, deliberately.

“Messy eater,” he teased, his voice low and rasping. You didn’t have a chance to fire back before his lips replaced his thumb. The kiss was soft at first, his mouth warm and patient as his hands rested lightly on your waist. But when you gasped into the kiss, his grip tightened, his body pressing closer to yours.

He lifted you effortlessly onto the counter, stepping between your legs as his hands slid down to your thighs. The cool surface beneath you was a sharp contrast to the heat pooling in your stomach as his kisses deepened, his tongue brushing against yours with an intoxicating mix of skill and hunger.

“You’re okay ?” he asked, his lips ghosting over your neck, his breath warm and steady. “Yeah,” you whispered, your hands going from the back of his head to tugging at the hem of his shirt.

Aaron smirked, stepping back just enough to pull the fabric over his head. Your eyes traced over his chest, and he gave you that look—the one that made you feel like the only person in the world.

“Is this okay ?” he murmured, his hands sliding up your sides to tug at your shirt. When you nodded, he lifted it over your head, pausing for a moment to take you in. “You’re so pretty lovie,” he said softly, his hands skimming over your bare skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

His lips found yours again, hungrier this time, as his hands explored your body. He was slow, deliberate, letting his fingers map out every inch of you. When his lips trailed down your neck and across your collarbone, you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped your lips.

Aaron softly chuckled against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. “I’ve been wanting to hear that,” he murmured, his hands sliding beneath the waistband of your shorts. “Tell me if you want me to stop baby.”

“I don’t.” you breathed, your nails grazing his shoulders as you arched into his touch. "I want this. I want you papa, please." you say, opening your legs even more so that he could perfectly fit in between them.

That’s how you found yourself in his bed, legs lifted with him in between them. He grabbed the pants you were previously wearing and took them off along with your panties, a sticky string of wetness connecting your hole and your underwear. Aaron almost came when seeing this.

He then grabs your legs, gently pulling them together "can you hold your legs together for me baby ?" he asks and you did, bringing your thighs to your chest. You couldn’t really see him from where you were but your body made sure to pay attention to every feelings, especially the one of his tongue gliding up from your entrance to your clit, all before he wrapped his mouth around your lips, sucking hard.

It’s was only a matter of seconds before you were a moaning mess, aaron eating you out so slowly, licking your sweet pussy which was dripping just for him. He spread your lips a bit so he could get a better view of you, sliding his tongue in, ignoring your surprised yelp. "Feeling good ?" He asked, planting kisses all over your thighs. Not being able to respond you only nod, but he wasn’t letting that slide. Not on his watch. "Use your word, ❁. I know you can baby. C’mon." You could feel your legs getting shaky at the sound of his voice, making you open your eyes before saying, "your tongue feels so good, baby."

He climbs back onto the bed, reaching next to your head for a condom from his nightstand. While he did that, you passed your forearm around his, tilting your head to put kisses all over it. He looked at you like you were the rarest and priceless thing ever. He then ripped the condom open and put it on. However, you don't realize how hard you were starting at him until he points it out, voice soft. "Take a picture it’ll last you longer, baby."

He grins when he sees you roll your eyes "relax okay ? If you want me to stop, you tell me right away. Yeah ?" he asks, his eyes finding yours, he kisses your jaw when he saw you nod. spreading your thighs, he got a better view of your hole, aligning his tip with it. He's careful when he pushes himself inside, eyes locked onto your face to make sure you're not too uncomfortable by the stretch.

"Damn, baby." Aaron can't keep up his gentle facade for long though, especially when he sees this look on your face : your lips bitten by your teeth as your pussy swallows him up, wet walls making it easy for him to pull out and slam his hips back into you, again and again. "You feel so good papa.." you groan in his ears, hands on his cheeks.

He occasionally changes his pace and has you moaning his name even louder. One minute he's snapping his hips forward rapidly, the next he shoves his entire dick inside and holds it there to watch you tremble beneath him or he's rolling his hips slowly, leaning forward to suck on your titties.

"You’re too good to me, lovie. I can’t get enough of you." He panted, going to kiss on your neck while hitting your sweet spots.

"don’t stop aaron, please.."

@ melosliving 2025

[manmuncher777]

PASSED AROUND

- when the reader gets passed between Toji and Shiu like a blunt. After all how are they going to thank her for looking after them so well?

- 18+ SMUT, threesome, oral f+m recieving, unprotected sex, spanking, pet names. The tension in this is yummy. THIS ART HAS ME FERAL

a/m - Hi my loves, I worked super hard on this and would really appreciate if you could show some love!!!!! Reblogs, likes and comments are so welcome. I hope you enjoy. p.s MY REQUESTS FORJJK/AOT ARE OPEN <<33333

Three knocks on the door, a sound that has become so familiar to you. Most would be startled to be getting visitors at this sort of time, but you knew every time who it was going to be. You’re lying on the sofa scrolling on your phone, sighing gently as you get up

You glance over at the clock. It’s just past midnight, and the silence of your apartment feels almost deafening. You’re already stretched out on the couch, half-watching the flickering screen of an old movie when you hear it. The knock. The familiar sound that tells you everything you need to know.

Another round of favors, you think with a sigh. You don’t mind, of course. You owe them both, but more importantly, their company has become something you’ve grown… accustomed to.

You don’t bother with much—just a quick glance in the mirror to make sure you don’t look like you’ve rolled out of bed, though you kind of have. You’re wearing your usual sleep shorts, barely covering the top of your thighs, and a baggy t-shirt that hangs loosely off your shoulders. It’s comfortable, and you know it’s exactly what they’ve come to expect.

With a soft groan, you push yourself off the couch and make your way to the door, not rushing. No need to hurry. You swing it open without hesitation.

Toji stands there first, tall and imposing as usual. His eyes are cold, almost too unreadable, but the faintest glimmer of amusement lurks beneath. His gaze sweeps over you like he’s cataloging every detail, his lips curling into a half-smile that speaks volumes. All of a sudden, you were more conscious of how you were dressed as he glanced over you.

Shiu stands just behind him, his posture slightly more relaxed but no less commanding. His eyes are trained on you, intense, sharp, but with a subtle warmth that flickers beneath the cool exterior. You can already tell his attention is on you—his focus unwavering.

“Late night?” Toji’s voice is rough, casual, as if he hasn’t just barged into your life with that smirk of his.

You lean against the doorframe, keeping your arms crossed, the corner of your lips curling up in a smile. “You two really know how to pick your timing.” You glance at the clock over your shoulder. “Another job gone south?”

“Toji’s always getting himself into trouble,” Shiu drawls, his eyes narrowing with a glint of amusement. He takes a step closer, his eyes flicking over your outfit, lingering a little too long on the way your shirt clings to your body.

You arch an eyebrow, not missing the subtle shift in his gaze. “What, no ‘thank you’ this time for saving your asses?” you tease, though there’s a slight edge to your tone.

Toji grins, a dark, knowing look in his eyes. “Maybe we’re just here for the company this time.” His gaze slides over you once more, and there’s a lingering heat that makes your breath hitch. “And for the treatment, of course. We wouldn’t want you to think we only come around when we’re hurt.”

You can’t help the slight smirk that tugs at your lips. “Of course not. You two have been here enough times, I’m starting to think you have a permanent spot in my fridge.”

Shiu chuckles lowly, glancing over at Toji. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know we have our place here. I think we’re entitled to that fridge space by now.” His voice is smooth, almost possessive, as if he’s been here a hundred times before. And, well… maybe he has.

“Got a spot just for your beers, huh?” you reply, sarcasm laced with the faintest hint of something else, something more charged that you can’t quite put your finger on.

This whole thing started a while ago. You needed some help feeling with some unsavoury people, just the business the men were well versed in. You went to them seeking out their assistance, and of course they obliged when you told them you didn’t care how much.

And at first, thats all it was, business. But when you were discussing… business with both the men, you let slip you’re a nurse, a healer. Luckily for Toji and Shiu, they were in need of a new one.

So they offered you a deal, a discounted price for your services.

So each time after a mission, they would come to you, get patched up and be on their way.

At least thats how it started, business, then acquaintances, their 1 hour patch ups turning into hour long nights spent with chatter as you sipped on a beer, then movies and drinks when they needed to unwind

Then it formed into this, some kind of friendship. You now kept mens shower gel in your bathroom for the first time incase they were staying, you had a few small items of spare clothes they keep at yours, even a toothbrush each. Some nights they just needed to lay low, and you had a spare mattress and a pull out bed. It suited you. It actually was nice for your apartment not to feel so lonely. Sometimes you found yourself making extra serving of your dinner, anticipating the hungry mens arrival.

Toji steps forward, pushing the door open wider without a word, his large frame blocking the hallway as he moves past you, his shoulder brushing against yours in a way that’s deliberate, yet casual. You try to ignore the way the contact makes your skin heat up. You tried to ignore hoe his muscles looked in that black shirt. You tried to ignore how he towered over you. You tried to ignore how the cuts on his face and knuckles made him looks so sexy.

Shiu follows behind, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. He walks with a quiet, steady confidence that makes it clear this is his territory too. You tried to ignore the way his suit clung to his board back. You tried to ignore the way he looked so good with that toothpick in his mouth. You tried to ignore how intoxicating you found that aftershave he wears is, loving when it lingers in your apartment after they leave. The apartment’s small and cozy, the kind of place they’ve come to know better than some of their own living spaces. Shiu makes a beeline for the fridge without a second thought, pulling it open and reaching for the beer—his beer.

“Toji’s right,” Shiu says, his voice smooth and steady, though there’s an undercurrent of something darker there. “You’re getting comfortable with us. We might start expecting dinner, too.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve fed you both,” you respond dryly, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning against the counter. Your eyes flick over to Toji, who’s now making himself at home on your couch, his long legs stretched out lazily. The way he sprawls on the furniture makes it clear that this isn’t just a place for occasional medical attention—it’s theirs now.

You watch Shiu twist the cap off a bottle, his eyes flicking to you briefly before he takes a swig. “We’ve gotten used to it.” His voice lowers slightly, the words heavier than before. “Used to you, too.”

The air in the room shifts as Toji turns his head slightly, glancing at you with that familiar, dangerous smirk. “Yeah. We like it here. So, you think you can patch us up, or are we just gonna relax tonight?” He shrugs, but the look in his eyes tells you he’s not just talking about bandages.

Shiu takes another long sip from his bottle, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’ve been a good little host to us. We’ll return the favor one of these days.” His words are laced with something that makes your pulse quicken, a promise that’s too heavy to ignore. You were convinced they both knew what they were doing, blurring lines. A small blushed danced over your cheeks as the men shared smirks.

You swallow, suddenly aware of the thick tension in the room. You should be getting to work, tending to their injuries—but instead, your body betrays you, heat pooling low in your stomach at the way they both watch you. You can feel the pull between you all, the simmering chemistry that’s only getting harder to deny.

You clear your throat, trying to sound unaffected. “You two are going to get too comfortable if I don’t set some boundaries.”

Shiu leans in, placing his beer down on the counter, his gaze intent on you as his lips curl into a slow smile. “Maybe we already have.”

Toji smirks, leaning back on the couch, his eyes scanning you lazily. “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it. We both know you’re not here for just the drinks, either.”

The air feels heavier now, thicker, the unspoken words hanging between you like a taut wire waiting to snap. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep pretending like nothing’s happening.

But for now, you settle in, because you know this game—they know it too. And it’s only just beginning.

The atmosphere was almost suffocating. As much as you tried to busy yourself, to focus on your usual routine, the presence of Toji and Shiu in your apartment made it near impossible to think straight. Every glance they threw your way, every subtle brush of their hands as they moved past you, sent your heart racing.

You grabbed the first-aid kit, clutching it like a lifeline as you approached the couch where Toji was sprawled out. His broad frame took up most of the cushions, his legs lazily stretched out, one arm draped along the backrest. He looked up at you with an amused smirk, his sharp eyes gleaming with something almost predatory.

“Come to patch me up, sweetheart?” he drawled, holding up his hand where a shallow but jagged cut ran across his knuckles. The injury didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest; if anything, he looked far too entertained by your flustered demeanor.

You sat down beside him, keeping your focus on the first-aid kit as you opened it. “It’s nothing serious,” you muttered, your voice betraying the flutter of nerves in your chest. “You’ve had worse.”

Toji chuckled low, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “And you’ve been there for every one of them. Gotta say, I’m starting to like having my own personal nurse.”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks burned at the way his gaze lingered on you. “Stay still,” you said, dabbing antiseptic onto a cotton pad. His hand dwarfed yours as you took it gently, the heat of his skin almost searing against your palm.

Shiu wandered over from the kitchen, beer in hand, his sharp gaze landing on the two of you. “Getting the royal treatment, huh?” he remarked, his tone light but laced with amusement. He leaned casually against the armrest of the couch, his proximity making you even more aware of how outnumbered you were.

“Someone’s gotta take care of him,” you replied, trying to sound unaffected as you began cleaning Toji’s wound.

Toji chuckled again, his voice a low hum. “Yeah? What about him?” He jerked his head toward Shiu, who raised an eyebrow in mock offense.

“Don’t drag me into your mess,” Shiu said smoothly, though he was already rolling up his sleeve to reveal a shallow scrape along his forearm. “But since you’re offering…”

You sighed, trying to keep your composure as Toji’s laughter filled the room. “You two are hopeless,” you muttered, finishing up with Toji’s hand and reaching for another antiseptic pad.

“I think she likes it,” Toji teased, his voice dropping just enough to make your pulse skip. “She likes taking care of us. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Your hand froze for a split second before you quickly resumed cleaning Shiu’s arm. “You’re delusional,” you shot back, though your voice lacked conviction.

Shiu smirked, watching you intently as you worked. “Delusional, huh? You keep letting us crash here, patching us up, stocking your fridge with our beers… Sure doesn’t seem like it.”

His words hung in the air, the teasing lilt of his tone making your stomach flip. You refused to look up, focusing instead on the scrape you were treating. But the heat of their gazes was impossible to ignore.

“Careful, Shiu,” Toji chimed in, his grin widening. “You’ll scare her off.”

“Scare her?” Shiu replied smoothly, his eyes flicking to Toji before returning to you. Twirling the toothpick that sat prettily between his lips. “She’s not scared. Look at her—she’s used to it by now. Aren’t you, doll?”

You tried to muster a sharp response, but the endearment made your breath catch. Instead, you busied yourself with wrapping Shiu’s arm, your fingers trembling just slightly as you secured the bandage.

“There,” you said, a little too quickly. “All done.”

Shiu caught your wrist as you moved to pull away, his grip firm but not unkind. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the teasing faded, replaced by something deeper, heavier.

“You’re good at this,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “Taking care of people.”

Your throat felt dry, your words catching before you could respond. Toji leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees as he watched the exchange with an amused smirk.

“She’s a natural,” Toji said, his tone teasing but his gaze sharp. “Like our own little housewife.”

Your cheeks burned, and you yanked your hand back from Shiu, glaring at them both. “You two are impossible,” you muttered, standing up abruptly.

Shiu chuckled, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he leaned back against the couch. “What? We’re just saying what we see.”

Toji leaned back as well, his grin downright wicked. “Yeah. Don’t get all shy on us now.”

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut, their words lingering in the air long after they were spoken. You turned away, trying to steady your breathing as you put the first-aid kit back in its place. But even with your back to them, you could feel their eyes on you, the weight of their attention pressing against you like a physical force.

It was infuriating. It was intoxicating.

And you knew, deep down, that you didn’t want it to stop

You busied yourself with the first-aid kit, shoving bandages and cotton pads back into place with more force than necessary. The heat of their gazes lingered on your back, and no amount of focus on the task in front of you could chase away the pounding of your heart.

“Something wrong?” Toji’s voice was a low drawl, laced with amusement. You could hear the smirk in his tone.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you replied quickly, your voice tighter than you intended.

“Really?” Shiu’s voice joined in, smooth and teasing. “Because you’re looking a little flustered there, doll.”

You snapped the lid of the first-aid kit shut, spinning around to face them. “I’m not flustered,” you shot back, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed you.

Toji was leaning forward now, his elbows on his knees, watching you with a lazy smirk that made your stomach twist. Shiu was still reclining, one arm draped casually over the back of the couch, but his sharp gaze was locked on you, studying your every move.

“You sure about that?” Toji asked, his grin widening. “Because you’re looking pretty red right now.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could say anything, Toji stood up. His sheer presence was overwhelming, towering over you as he closed the distance between you with slow, deliberate steps.

“You’ve been so good to us, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. “Taking care of us, letting us stay… It’s cute how you think you can hide how much you like it.”

You took a step back, only to bump into something solid. Shiu had moved behind you, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned down slightly, his lips close to your ear.

“He’s right, you know,” Shiu said, his tone soft but no less commanding. “You’re always so sweet to us. Always so ready to help. Makes us wonder what else you’d do for us.”

Your breath hitched, your pulse pounding as they effectively caged you in. Toji in front of you, his intense gaze pinning you in place, and Shiu behind you, his presence warm and unyielding.

“I-I don’t…” you stammered, but the words wouldn’t come.

Toji chuckled, low and deep, as he reached up to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers lingered just a second too long, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. “See? Flustered,” he teased, his smirk turning almost predatory.

“Maybe she likes it,” Shiu murmured from behind you, his voice a smooth hum that made your knees feel weak. “Likes us.”

The words sent a jolt through you, and you turned your head slightly to glance at him. His eyes were sharp, yet there was something softer flickering beneath the surface, something that made your heart skip.

“I don’t—” you started, but your voice faltered as Toji leaned in closer, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Don’t what?” he asked, his tone deceptively casual. “Don’t want this?” His gaze flicked to your lips, and your breath caught in your throat.

You couldn’t answer. You couldn’t think. The space between the three of you was charged, every inch of it humming with tension.

And then, Toji closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was surprisingly gentle, almost testing. It didn’t stay that way for long. The heat built quickly, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing closer until there was no space left between you.

When he finally pulled back, your chest was heaving, your mind spinning. You barely had a second to recover before Shiu’s hand was on your shoulder, turning you slightly to face him. His gaze was darker, more focused, but there was a softness to the way he cradled your jaw, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.

“Don’t think I’m letting him have all the fun,” he murmured before his lips captured yours. Shiu kissed with the same control he carried in everything he did—slow, deliberate, but no less consuming. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he took his time, savoring every second.

When he pulled away, you were left breathless, your head spinning as you looked between the two of them. Toji was smirking again, his arms crossed over his broad chest, while Shiu’s lips curled into a satisfied smile.

“Looks like you’re not so confident now,” Toji teased, his voice low and gravelly.

Shiu leaned in closer, his gaze locked onto yours. “That’s okay,” he murmured, his tone softer now, though no less intense. “We like you like this.”

The air between you was thick, heavy with the promise of something more, something inevitable. And as you stood there, caught between them, you knew you were done pretending.

They repeated their actions, sharing you in a heated kiss once again.

Toji’s lips brushed against yours first, slow and deliberate, as if daring you to pull away. His hand cupped your jaw, holding you in place, his rough palm warm against your skin. The kiss was confident, a little rough around the edges, just like him. You barely had time to catch your breath before Shiu’s presence at your side shifted, his fingers gently turning your face toward him.

Shiu’s kiss was different—softer, slower, yet no less consuming. His lips moved against yours with a deliberate patience that made your knees weak, his hand firm at the small of your back, grounding you in the moment. When he pulled away, his gaze met yours, dark and heavy with unspoken words.

“Well,” Toji said, his voice rough and teasing as he glanced between you and Shiu. “Didn’t think she’d give in so easily.” His hand slid down to your waist, tugging you closer as if to prove his point. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Shiu smirked, his thumb brushing your lower lip as if to trace the remnants of the kiss. “Maybe she’s been waiting for this as much as we have.” His tone was calm, but the way his eyes lingered on you made your stomach flip.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words got caught in your throat as Toji leaned down again, his lips ghosting over the corner of your mouth. “You’re not pulling away,” he murmured, the amusement in his voice barely masking the heat beneath it. “Guess that means you don’t want us to stop.”

Your hands, trembling slightly, found their way to Toji’s chest, the hard muscle beneath his shirt grounding you. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your palm, a stark contrast to the chaos of your own.

“I…” you started, your voice faltering as Shiu leaned in closer, his hand sliding up to cradle the side of your neck.

“You can say it,” Shiu murmured, his lips brushing against your ear in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Or we can just keep going. Your choice.”

The tension was unbearable, the weight of their combined attention leaving you breathless. Your hands curled into Toji’s shirt, your body leaning into Shiu’s warmth at your back. Every touch, every look, seemed to echo the unspoken promise hanging in the air between you all.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you finally admitted, the words barely audible but carrying enough weight to shift the atmosphere entirely.

Toji grinned, his teeth catching his lower lip for a brief moment as if savoring your confession. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

Shiu’s chuckle was low and rich, his hand sliding down to rest lightly on your hip. “Smart choice,” he said, his voice laced with a possessive edge that made your pulse race.

Toji leaned in, his lips capturing yours again with more urgency this time, as if your words had broken whatever restraint he’d been holding onto. His kiss was all-consuming, his hand gripping your waist to anchor you to him. Shiu’s fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns against your hip, his presence at your back steady and sure.

When Toji finally pulled away, his eyes met yours, dark and intense. “You taste good,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Knew you would.”

Shiu’s hand tightened slightly on your hip, his lips brushing against the curve of your jaw as he spoke. “Toji’s right,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “You’re everything we thought you’d be.”

Your breath hitched, your body caught between the two of them, their touches and words weaving a web you couldn’t escape from—not that you wanted to. The heat between you all was undeniable, every moment building on the last, the tension a live wire ready to snap.

You let out a shaky exhale, your head tilting back against Shiu’s chest as Toji’s hand trailed lower, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “What are you two doing to me?” you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

“Exactly what you want us to,” Shiu replied, his voice a low murmur against your skin.

Toji’s laugh was rough, a little breathless. “And we’re just getting started.”

The air was thick as Toji’s freshly bandaged hand danced along the hem of your shirt before tugging it up over your head. You were without a bra this evening, your nippled perking as the cold air brushed against them. You felt utterly submitted to the men caging you in, their gazes predatory, hungry.

Ship’s hands moved next gently cupping your breast, letting a gentle groan out at the feeling of your soft skin. The men moved in turn, practised. It was kind of freaky how well they took turns with you, sharing you so well. “So beautiful sweetheart, cant believe you were hiding all this from us.”

A small gasp escaping your lips at the contact, Shiu’s fingers moving to tweak your hard nipples, rolling them gently between his fingers, pinching them as your skin prickled with goosebumps.

His nose dragging up your exposed neck as your head lolled onto his shoulder. Your pouting lips now caught between your teeth as you tried not to squeal.

Toji’s hugs hands had grip on your waist, caressing gently up an down your sides as he watched your face, smirking at your expressions as Shiu played with you. His hands trailing lower… and lower. Teasingly slow until they reached your waistband of your shorts. dragging them along with your panties down your legs, allowing you to kick them off into the distance

There you stood completely bare and these two men had their way with you. You didn’t have a chance to feel self conscious before Toji was lowering himself to his knees, hiking one of your legs over his shoulder. You were glad you had Shiu behind you to hold you up because that first lick from Toji had your knees buckling.

Shiu's hands gripped your hips with a possessive steadiness, pulling you back against his solid frame. His body was warm, his breath tickling the shell of your ear as he leaned in. “You’re trembling,” he murmured, the edge of amusement in his voice unmistakable.

Your response was swallowed by a soft gasp as Toji was just getting started,his movements deliberate, his focus razor-sharp. The intensity of his attention left your mind spinning, your body caught between the steady push and pull of their combined presence. Toji’s tongue was flicking up on down on your clit eagerly, slurping all the juices you were giving him.

“You taste fucking heavenly doll” he practically moans into your already soaking pussy. His comment making you release a whimper.

“Can’t handle both of us, can you?” Shiu teased, his lips brushing the sensitive curve of your neck. His voice was a low, molten drawl, carrying a note of wicked satisfaction that sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

Your hands gripped the fabric of Toji’s shirt, knuckles whitening as you tried to ground yourself against the overwhelming sensations. Shiu chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Sweet little thing,” he murmured, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the base of your throat. “So responsive.”

Toji’s muffled laugh rumbled below you, the sound dark and teasing. “You should see her face, Shiu. She’s not sure whether to fight it or give in.” His hands tightened their hold on your thighs, a silent encouragement that only added fuel to the fire. His tongue now travelling deeper, diving into your core. His nose bumping against your clit making you jolt. You couldn’t even try to hide your moans anymore, your eyes fluttering shut as your mouth hangs open in pleasure.

Shiu’s lips parted against your neck, and the sharp nip of his teeth made your breath hitch. His tongue followed, soothing the sting before he latched on, sucking at the delicate skin just below your jawline. His movements were deliberate, each pull of his lips a silent declaration of possession.

“You like this, don’t you?” Shiu murmured against your skin, his tone shifting into something darker, something that felt like a promise. His hands slid up your sides, his fingers brushing just under the hem of your shirt. “Having us both like this. Makes you feel wanted, doesn’t it?”

Your head tilted instinctively, giving him better access as his teeth grazed a particularly sensitive spot. His chuckle was soft, almost smug, as he worked the skin, leaving no doubt that his mark would linger long after this moment was over.

“Look at her,” Shiu said, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Already melting for us. You’re enjoying this a little too much, sweetheart.”

Toji’s hand slid up your side, his fingers splayed possessively over your ribs. “She’s not complaining,” he pointed out, his tone dripping with amusement. “Think she likes being the center of attention.” Every time he spoke from between your legs you couldn’t help but squeal from the vibrations of his deep voice. You couldn’t believe a man like Toji was on his knees in front of you, eating you out like you were his last meal. His hands on your hips managing the rolls of your hips against his face. He was basically making out with you cunt, leaving sloppy kisses all over, sucking on you clit.

You tried to form a response, but the words caught in your throat as Shiu’s lips moved lower, his tongue trailing along your collarbone before his teeth found another sensitive spot. The sharp sensation sent a jolt through you, and he chuckled again, his grip tightening on your hips.

“You’ll look good with my mark,” Shiu murmured, his voice laced with quiet satisfaction. “And his,” he added, his tone dropping further as he nodded toward Toji. “You’re ours tonight.”

The heat between the three of you was suffocating, the air thick with tension and unspoken promises. Shiu’s hands slid back down to your waist, holding you steady as his lips worked against your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

Toji’s low growl of approval only added to the pressure building inside you. “Don’t go too easy on her,” he said, his smirk audible in his tone. “She can take it. She’s already dripping for me and I’m only warming up.”

Shiu pulled back just enough to catch your eyes, his smirk matching Toji’s. “Oh, I know,” he said softly, his thumb brushing the edge of the mark he’d left. “She’s tougher than she looks.”

You could barely breathe, the weight of their attention leaving you lightheaded and completely at their mercy. The tension between you all was thick enough to cut, the unspoken connection weaving tighter with every passing moment.

Your Hand now moving to Toji’s hair, needing something to grip onto with the pleasure he was giving you right now You were close and both on the men could tell, Shiu’s hand speedily returning to your nipples, giving them a squeeze causing your back to arch off his strong frame. You were dripping down Toji’s chin, his tongue eagerly lapping up every drop he could.

“Think she might be close” Shiu spoke, his deep voice flowing through your mind, Toji only humming at him in response, licking thick stripes up your whole cunt.

You couldn’t hold yourself back any longer, Cumming all over his face. That band in your core snapping. You moaned out loudly, unable to control the bucking of your hips as both men rode you through your high, Shiu gently talking you through your orgasm

“That’s it sweet girl, Cum for us.” he kissed against your ear as you shook against him “feels good yeah?”

You did your best to nod in response, trying to focus on catching your breath. Toji finally making his way up, kissing up your body before he rose to his full height, kissing you hard on the lips. You could taste yourself on his tongue. The erotic nature of the kiss had you whining. Finally he lets you out for breath

Your head is spinning, and your body feels like it's still humming from the intensity of what just happened. You're not sure when you lost control, but now, standing between Toji and Shiu, you're completely at their mercy. Every breath you take seems to send a wave of heat rushing through you, your skin still tingling from the aftermath.

Toji watches you with that damn smirk of his, his eyes glinting with something dangerous and amused. "Look at you," he drawls, his voice slow and steady, the words dripping with a mix of satisfaction and something darker. "Completely out of your element, aren’t you?"

Your face burns, and you can barely meet his gaze. You're standing between them, completely vulnerable, and the way they look at you now sends a shiver down your spine. It's as if they're seeing something no one else ever has, something they've claimed and marked.

You swallow, your throat dry. Every word feels like it’s pulling you deeper under their spell. "I..." Your voice falters, and you feel ridiculous, like you’re failing to hold onto whatever little bit of dignity you have left.

Shiu tilts his head, his fingers lingering on the curve of your neck as he watches you closely. "You’re so cute when you’re flustered," he whispers, leaning in just enough that you can feel the heat of his breath on your skin. "Like you can't decide whether to hate us or beg for more."

Toji’s gaze flicks from you to Shiu, a dark smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I think she likes it," he mutters, his voice teasing but with an edge of possessiveness. "Doesn't she, sweetheart?"

Your chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, and you're trapped between them—neither of them needing to say anything more. You can feel how tightly the tension holds between the three of you, and they both seem to be drinking in your reactions like a cocktail they can’t get enough of.

"You're not fooling anyone," Shiu says, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "We both know how much you like it. Especially after that little show you just gave us” You can hear thr grin on his face. Toji wiping your orgasm from his face with the back of his arm. You gulp

Your lips part as if you were going to protest, but the words get stuck in your throat. They’re right—there’s no denying it anymore. You’ve given yourself to them, and they know it. It’s almost humiliating how easy you were to break, but the thing is... you don’t mind.

Toji steps forward, his hand coming to rest on your lower back, pulling you closer, his large frame looming over you as he leans down to murmur in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "You’re not in control anymore, sweetheart. And you love it."

Shiu steps in, his hand coming to rest on your side, his touch firm but not forceful, just enough to remind you that you’re completely surrounded. His voice is smooth as he speaks, his lips brushing against your neck. "You’re ours now. We’ve claimed you, haven’t we?"

You don’t answer, because you know it’s true. Every inch of you is burning, still aching from what just happened, and you can’t deny the way your body reacts to them, how desperately you crave their touch, their attention.

They don’t need your answer—they already have it, and that’s all they care about. Toji gives a soft, mocking chuckle as he looks down at you. "You can’t hide it," he murmurs. "You’ve been ours for a while now. We just had to make sure you knew it." He’s slowly removing his shirt, revealing his huge muscular form. You can hear shuffling from behind you also, Shiu removing his suit jacket, then his tie. Soon fingers stating on his dress shirt

Your breath catches in your throat as you try to pull yourself together, but the air around you is so thick, so saturated with their presence that it’s impossible to ignore. Every part of you is trembling under their gaze, and there’s no escaping them now.

Shiu’s lips find your neck once more, his mouth hot against your skin as he sucks lightly, marking you again, making sure you remember who you belong to. His voice comes out muffled against your skin. "No one else is ever going to touch you like we do."

Toji steps back slightly, his eyes never leaving yours, enjoying the flush that’s spread across your face and neck. "And you wouldn’t want anyone else," he says with a smirk. "Not after we’ve had our way with you."

The realization hits you all at once—you’re utterly, completely theirs, and in that moment, all you can do is surrender to it.

You don’t even think about fighting when Shiu pushes you onto the couch. manhandling you until your on all fours. Part of you is upset you can’t see him anymore. He’s disappeared behind you. You could’ve sat there and just stared at both the shirtless men in awe, but you resisted.

Your heart jumps when you hear the clinking of a belt buckle, Toji chuckling at your reaction. You were waiting patiently, feeling the couch shift behind you as Shiu aligns himself with you. You could feel his hard tip poking at your entrance. The suspense making you squirm

“Stop teasing the poor thing Shiu, she looks like she’s about to cry” Toji says, hes sat down on your armchair now, watching the both of you. His grey sweats doing nothing to hide the bulge in his pants. He’s palming himself shamelessly as he watches intently.

“Awh you poor thing” Shiu coos teasingly, not giving you a chance before sheathing himself inside you completely. “Is that what you wanted doll?” he chuckles.

You jolt forward, not expecting to feel so full so quickly. Jesus christ he was big. Your poor arms already wobbling, you let out a sob. He slid right in, you were absolutely soaked. Your walls welcoming him greedily.

“Holy fuck! Shiu oh my god-“ You sobbed out pathetically. He hadn’t even started moving yet, but you hadn’t been this full in a while. he felt amazing wrapped in your walls. One of his hands grabbing at the fat of your ass as he finally starts thrusting inside of you. It’s like you were seeing stars, the sounds of your skin slapping together echoing through the room as he fucked you. Small grunts escaping him each time he bottomed out inside of your greedy pussy.

“Shit sweetheart, you’ve got a perfect little pushy. so pretty-“ he grunts from above you. God he sounded so good, that voice dripping in sex as he tried to control himself. Shiu was struggling to keep His composure as he watched the way you arched so nicely for him, giving him deeper access. The way your ass recoiled with each slam of his hips. And those delicious little noises you made when he hit a paticularly deep spot.

You were slowly pushing him to the brink. He was doing all he could to resist the anamalistic urge of just fucking you hard and fast, finishing in mere minutes. But he wanted to take his time with you, to savour how beautiful you looked at her mercy. Lord only knows how long he’d wanted to do this. “Shit baby, sucking the life out of me.” Moaning as he slams back into you. Your pussy gripping him so well you could feeleach vein on his cock.

You had never felt so perfectly full before, Shiu was hitting you at such a good angle you were almost voiceless. Running out of breath to cry out for him anymore. In the corner of your eye you watch Toji raise from the arm chair. He was sat the jerking off while watching you both, but now he was joining in again.

He’s in front of you now, both men at either end of you “I know that pussy of yours is perfect doll, how about that mouth?” He grips your face with his huge hand as he talks to you. It’s like he knows your fucked out and can hardly speak by the fact hes speaking so gently to you. His other hand was jerking off his thick cock. He had already rid himself or his grey sweats.

You were on fire. You felt like you were feeling everything at one Shiu fucking you so good, your orgasm nearing once more, and seeing Toji in front of you right now had you squirming.

You couldnt even process words to speak in that moment so you just opened your mouth up pathetically.

Toji groaned at the sight of you welcoming mouth, slipping his leaking tip in eagerly, hissing at the feeling of your tongue sliding over his slit. He gripped your hair gently, guiding you down his cock further and further until he was hitting the back of your throat before letting you back up again, he knew he wouldn’t last as long as he hoped. Not with the way you sweet little moans were vibrating against his cock. He was painfully hard from eating you out already.

You couldn’t quite believe your circumstances, sandwiched between the two men as they fucked both your holes. Shiu’s hands slapping at your ass now as he cursed to himself. Every thrust he gave you sending you further down Toji’s length. His considerable size leaving you gagging around him so sweetly. You moaned at the taste of his salty precum, drooling over his cock.

The men couldn’t believe it themselves to be honest. They had spoken about this moment many times, after all those nights spent staking out targets can lead to some interesting conversations. They were just shocked it was happening now. Not that either of them were complaining. Seeing you so vulnerable in front of them, god it was a dream come true.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t imagined this before, on lonely nights. Nights where the men were sleeping just down the hall from your bedroom door, when the beers you drank had gone to your head and thoughts filled your mind. First it was just innocent imagining, I mean they basically lived with you, but then it turned heated. Your fingers getting you off to the thought of them having their way with you.

You could feel your impending orgasm, squeezing around Shiu’s length. Your legs shaking pathetically as his movements, if toji wasn’t basically holding you up by your hair you were sure you’d be crying into he cushions on your couch.

“Shit you close already sweetheart?” Shiu chuckles, but you can hear the strained pleasure in his cocky voice. He was close as well.

You moan on Toji’s cock as Shiu’s pace increases to an impossible speed. Your moan turning into a pathetic cry. Hot tears streaming down your flushed face, drool trailing down your chin.

“Shhhh, come on doll. let go for us.” Toji groans, he removed his cock from your mouth, giving a chance for you to catch your breath. You previously muffled noises now sinfulling ringing clearly in the room.

“So f-fucking good.” your body gleams as you writhe between the two men

“I know, I know sweetheart.” Toji speaks now, softer than before. The hand that was gripping your hair gentle caressing it instead, lulling you smoothly into your orgasm.

You cum over Shiu’s cock, juices gushing over the moan who moans in awe above you. You were fucking shaking as waves racked over you. Your orgasm more intense than the first one. Shiu didnt stop, fucking you through it as his tip hit that sponges spot inside of you.

“Holy fuck..” He couldn’t stop himself either, that sight alone has him cumming deep inside you, hips not stopping until he’s sure hes fucked his seed deep in you belly. He pulls out, watching as you clench around nothing, Hi cum leaking out of your used hole. Before you can move, the men have switched. Toji’s positioning himself behind you and Shiu is in front, assuming Toji’s post of stroking your head.

Toji slowly pushes inside you, muttering to himself about needing to finsh in you. He’s already close from the head you’ve just given him, but he cant resist dumping his load in your sweet little cunt.

He doesn’t go easy on you, as soon as he’s fully in you, he starts a brutal pace. Hips snapping into yours. Both hands gripping your ass, giving it a few slaps before grabbing the skin once more. His eyes trained on the ring of white forming around the base of his cock, his eyes not leaving where he enters you. Like he’s entranced.

You’re whining from the overstimulation, Toji was slightly thicker than Shiu, and you could feel him stretching you. “Still so tight baby, youre fucking perfect.” he grunts out between thrusts.

All you can do is take it while Shiu coos at. you sweetly, muttering about how well your doing, how beautiful you look.

Toji didn’t last too long, soon finishing in you as well. A guttural groan leaving him as he empties his balls. He doesn’t still until he thighs are shaking, ensuring he’s all in you. Pulling out, just to finger the cum back inside of you. God he was filthy. You loved it.

For a moment you all just lay there, squashed on the sofa, strewn across the giant men while their cum leaked from you. When your breathing finally slowed and you stopped shaking, they carried you into your bathroom. You couldn’t stop the giggle and Toji sweeping you up bridal style and Shiu opened the door to your bathroom. Both of them cleaning you up oh so gently with a washcloth, kissing your head gently, before taking you to your bedroom.

For the first time (but certainly not the last) you big bed didn’t feel so lonely when they both joined you. Cuddling against them both as you had some of the best sleep of your life.

A/n: YALL IM BEGGING YOU LIKE A REPOST!!!! PLEASE!!! this is probably one of my favourite works yet and I really hope it gets the love it deserves, I slaved over this, it is my baby.

AND THANKS SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE ON MY RECENT FICS

MY REQUESTS FOR JJK/AOT ARE OPEN!!! I esp love writing small drabbles so please any cute ideas just let me know, it doesn’t have to be smut 💜

[writingwrongwjc]

First Date With the Munson Boy

Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: maybe slight angst for a second otherwise all fluff!!

“Should I wear this one or the red one?” You look past yourself in the mirror at Steve and Robin lying on your bed. Steve looks up hastily from the magazine but gives no response. Instead offering a lost expression

“Why are you even going on a date with this guy again?”

Robin props herself up, throwing the nearest object she can find toward Steve.

“Dude you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not? I’m being honest he’s kinda… well he is a freak.”

“He’s... sweet.” You say, swinging around toward them; making sure your dress swishes as you do so.

“Plus I could make fun of you for so many girls… Linda!” Robin Chimes in.

“Okay, glasses Linda? That’s not fair becau-” Steve begins to ramble but you interject before his poor excuses can manifest themselves.

“You guys! You are no help.” You throw your hands in the air, flailing the dresses as you move.

“Red.”

“Red!”

They both say in unison. Given their struggles with finding love, and your growing irritation you opted for the white dress.

“Mmm it’s classy.” you quip, leaving the room to put on the dress.

How you met Eddie is a story you’d rather not share with them just yet. Although Steve and Robin are your best friends they don’t exactly know about your habitual love for Mary Jane. They know you’ve smoked before, even trying a little for themselves when drunk and adventurous. You have just been embarrassed to admit that you enjoy the little herb, and many of the outcasts that come with it on a consistent basis. One such outcast is the man who started to sell it to you in the first place, Eddie Munson. Town Outcast, drug dealer, and according to neighborhood moms; occultist! After you started buying from him more the two of you started to hang out in those woods more consistently, even when you didn’t want to buy, but knew he’d be back there.

“We can’t keep meeting this way.” He’d say one day, cocking his head with a gentle smile.

“No? Then maybe you should take me out somewhere?” You cocked your head back at him with a slight of mischief on your face.

So now, you stand in your living room all dolled up to go out with the Munson boy.

“He’ll be here any second you guys need to leave! Go!” You shout, pushing Steve and Robin out the front door; giggling as they shuffle through at the same time.

“Have fun!”

“Don’t get murdered!”

“Oh yeah. Use protection!”

Not even a minute later Eddie pulls up in his beat down old van blaring some Iron Maiden song. Rather than allowing him to retrieve you from the house you meet him at the curb so that your parents don’t berate him about where he’s taking you and what his intentions are. He stumbles over his own feet in an effort to reach the van door before you can.

“Your chariot awaits you.” He bows, hand still on the door, eyes lingering on your form for a moment. “You uh, wow.” He says, shaking his head in disbelief releasing a huff of air. “You look amazing.”

“Oh thank you,” you say blushing at his genuine comment. He shuts your door hard, galloping over to the driver’s side, jumping into the seat. The music is now at a comforting volume rather than its usual roar.

“So, where are you taking me?”

“I was thinking we could hit some takeout, then drive out to the quarry and have a bit of a soiree?” Eddie seemed unsure of his idea now that he’s presenting it to you.

“Who knew you were a romantic Eddie!”

“I just, I thought that the stars would be brighter out there, and… you wouldn’t have to actually be seen with me.”

The street lights lit up the sadness glistening in his eyes, although he hid it well under his vibrant expressions and smiles toward you as he spoke.

“If I didn’t want to be seen with you I wouldn’t go out with you, dummy.” You jabbed him in the side in order to lighten his mood.

“I yearn for adventure! There’s no adventure in a drive in. Just making out before you're ready.”

He laughs vibrantly fidgeting with the rings on his fingers as he palms the steering wheel. Quicker than you thought that you would, you arrived at the quarry with takeout cheeseburgers in hand.

Eddie parked at the edge of the water away from the main road. As romantic as it truly was, Steve's words popped back in your head for a moment: “Don’t get murdered.” Not that Eddie would hurt you, just the fact of how dark it is way out here and the colorful history of the area. It's peaceful, but in an eerie way. While you’re thinking about how eerie it is Eddie got into the back of his van to grab a blanket.

“Here it is! Only the finest silks for a lady.” He approaches you staring into the darkness. “Oh. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah! It’s just dark out here. Spooky.” You wiggled your fingers at him when you said the word spooky. You take the blanket from him and turn to find a spot while he turns on some music.

“Okay so options, killer options by the way. We have Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Dio, Slayer. Oh I have my guilty pleasure prince tape! Or, behind door number three, surprise mix! I have no Idea what’s on this one, I think I was high when I made it or it’s like one of those things where we listen to it and a quest starts”

He holds up each cassette tape like a salesman attempting to get your buy. You couldn’t help but admire his features, complimented so well by a nice leather jacket, cleaner, sturdier than his usual jacket but it suits him so well.

“Door number three, Surprise me! Now come eat, it's getting soggy!”

“Oh one more thing!” he leans into the van once more sliding the cassette into place then reaching to grab something. The first song on the surprise cassette is certainly a surprise to you. Africa by Toto.

He holds up a small hand rolled joint with a crooked grin on his face.

“We’ll save it for dessert!” you say as he sits beside you on the blanket warming the brisk air.

“Oh I thought I was gonna have something else for dessert.” He looks you up and down, biting his lip slyly. Not sly enough, you push his face away from you.

“Eddie! Who do you think I am?”

Rather than taking your shove for what it was he threw himself to the ground with haste feigning injury. Making you burst into laughter from his theatrics. Sitting up again he looks at you with puppy’s eyes.

“I meant Ice Cream, freak. We can go get some ice cream!”

“Oh yeah sure you did, but I’ll hold you to that now.”

After stuffing your mouths and talking a bit in between, Eddie lights up the joint offering you the first hit. You can feel his eyes on your lips as you draw in the smoke. His gaze is soft and his eyes dart across the entirety of your face. As you go to hand him the lit joint you hear a crackle in the woods beside you. Reacting with instinct you gasp harshly scooting your body closer to his, dropping the joint onto the blanket.

“Oh. shit.”

“Shit. Sorry.”

The two or you scramble to pick it up and snuff out the embers, tangling into one another while doing so. Your arm is now hooked around Eddie’s bent leg and his arm under yours, hand resting on the tops of your knees. The tension between the two of you is palpable but you both laugh off what just happened, especially since the weed is now settling into your system.

“You’re honestly such a mage.” Eddies says out of nowhere.

“Huh?”

“I was just thinking if you were a class in D&D it would be mage.”

“I have no idea what that is.” You say looking at him confused but eager to learn more.

He takes the time to thoroughly explain the D&D classes and other game mechanics you didn’t fully understand but thoroughly enjoys the enthusiastic expression on his face while he explains something he loves.

“Basically, they’re very versatile in their magic, like you. Pretty, funny, smart, it's all magic!”

“So would you be a bard then, because they play instruments?” The glow leaves Eddie's eyes and his expression drops, pouting his bottom lip out slightly.

“Well, they play lutes and stuff, it's not the same.”

“I mean sure it is, your electric guitar is just a way cooler version of a lute.”

“There’s more to it than that I’m more of a rogue.” He stands up, broadening his shoulders, with an over dramatic sneaky look on his face.

“Whatever you say, oh great D&D expert!” You hop onto your knees fanning your arms up and down at him. “I dare not question thee. Forgive me my Lord.” Sarcasm thickens with each word.

“I’ll forgive you, fair Lady. Stand!” Eddie poses himself as a king making his decree. “On one condition!”

You stand to your feet with a bit of a wobble, choking back a giggle as the song that is playing ends and the song Hungry Eyes comes on.

“That is?”

Suddenly the air shifts. No longer do you feel playful, but a tickle of anxiety. Nothing surrounds the two of you now. Eddies searches for words to say but can’t think of a royal decree. He crosses his arms loosely.

“Man I suck at this.”

“Or you're distracted.” you offer up walking closer to him until your hands meet his shoulders. The leather cold under your palms. He lets his arms unfold, grabbing you by the small of your back.

“Yeah that’s-” He trails off nervously. You can feel his shaky warm breath amid the cool autumn air.

“Next time I want to go to the most popular spot in town.”

“Next time?” He smiles.

“Yes next time, dummy.”

You slide your hand onto his jawline and then to the base of his neck, burying your fingers into his mess of brown hair. He leans forward slightly, pausing just before he kisses you allowing you to direct the moment. You pull his head closer to yours, your lips crashing together sweetly. His lips full and passionate yet not hungry for more instead satisfied in the moment. You linger in the kiss allowing passion to blossom. When you pull away you linger close to one another, Eddie’s deep brown eyes locked onto your’s, his cheeks are full of color, and his lips forcing themselves upward.

The sweet silence is finally disrupted when you speak up,

“Did you know this mixtape is full of love songs?”

He says nothing, instead stifling laughter as he pulls away from you unable to hide his expression.

“You did, you sneak! Surprise, door number three my ass!”

“So how bout that ice cream, my lady?”

Authors Note: Steddie and Stucky Fics are coming soon! I know I write a lot of x reader but I am workin on others as well!!

[okasuka]

Damian wayne x Reader - safe in his arms.

tw: mention of scars, implied sh.

Gotham’s night sky glowed dimly through the expansive windows of Wayne Manor’s Batcave, the soft hum of the supercomputer the only sound filling the otherwise silent space. Y/N sat at the console, her eyes glued to the screens as she monitored various feeds.

“Wayne, you’re pushing it tonight,” she said, her voice firm but laced with concern.

Damian’s voice crackled over comms. “I can handle it.”

She rolled her eyes. He always said that, and yet she was the one piecing him together after every patrol. The sound of his cape rustling and faint grunts told her he was already climbing his way back to the cave.

Minutes later, the elevator dinged, and a bloodied Damian stumbled in. His face was set in a scowl, blood trailing from a cut above his eyebrow, his uniform torn in several places. Alfred stepped forward with his med kit, but Damian waved him off.

“I’m fine,” Damian muttered, his voice sharper than intended. He brushed past Bruce, who gave him a disapproving glare, and slumped into a nearby chair.

“You’re bleeding on my floor, Damian,” Bruce commented dryly.

“Y/N will handle it,” Damian said with finality, his emerald gaze flickering to her.

She sighed, pushing her chair back from the console. “You could try asking nicely, you know.”

Damian’s expression softened, though he didn’t reply. Y/N grabbed the med kit and walked over to him, ignoring Bruce’s quiet smirk as he retreated upstairs. Alfred followed with a shake of his head, leaving the two alone.

It wasn’t until Y/N crouched in front of Damian, sleeves of her t-shirt pushed up, that she felt the weight of his gaze. Her scars were exposed—the faint, silvery lines crisscrossing her tan skin like a map of battles long fought. She hesitated, her hands faltering over the kit.

Damian caught the flicker of insecurity in her expression. “You’re wearing short sleeves.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed. “It’s warm.”

“You never wear short sleeves,” he countered, his voice softer this time.

“I do sometimes,” she muttered, focusing on cleaning the cut on his forehead. She felt his eyes on her, unwavering and intense.

“Why do you hide them?” he asked, his tone lacking its usual sharpness.

Y/N stiffened, her hands stilling. “They’re ugly, Damian. They’re… reminders.” She didn’t look at him, keeping her attention on his wound. “People stare. Or ask questions.”

“I don’t think they’re ugly,” he said matter-of-factly, as if his opinion was law.

She looked up at him, her brows furrowed. “You’re just saying that.”

“I never say things I don’t mean,” Damian replied, his voice steady. He reached out, his fingers brushing the back of her hand. “You’ve seen my scars, haven’t you?”

“That’s different,” she argued. “Yours… they’re from fights, missions. Mine are—”

“Yours are proof you survived,” Damian interrupted, his eyes locking onto hers. “You’re not defined by them. But if you think for one second that they make you less than perfect…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

Y/N swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Damian didn’t give compliments lightly. The sincerity in his voice made her chest ache.

“You mean that?” she asked quietly.

“Of course I do,” he replied. He glanced at her arms again, his gaze lingering before returning to her face. “You shouldn’t feel the need to hide around me. Or Father. We’re your family.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “You’re getting soft, Wayne.”

His lips twitched in response. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

She laughed softly, resuming her work. As she dabbed antiseptic on a cut near his collarbone, Damian spoke again.

“Why do you always take care of me? Even when you’re busy.”

Y/N glanced at him, her brow arched. “Because someone has to keep you alive. And let’s face it, Bruce would probably just lecture you into next week.”

Damian let out a low chuckle, the sound rare but genuine. “You’re terrible at taking compliments, you know.”

“And you’re terrible at accepting help.”

“Touché,” he muttered.

When she finished wrapping his arm, she sat back on her heels, surveying her work. “All patched up. Try not to break anything else for at least twenty-four hours.”

“No promises,” he replied, though there was a hint of warmth in his smirk.

As she started packing up the med kit, Damian caught her wrist, his thumb brushing lightly over a scar on her forearm.

“Stop hiding,” he said quietly.

Her gaze softened. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Because I’m not going to stop reminding you.”

She chuckled, standing up. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are,” he quipped.

Y/N shook her head, smiling as she returned to the console. But for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel the need to tug her sleeves down.

The soft glow of the Batcomputer’s screens illuminated the cavernous room as Y/N continued typing, her fingers flying across the keyboard. The digital clock in the corner ticked to 4:32 a.m., but she barely noticed. Her focus was razor-sharp as she sifted through surveillance footage, cross-referenced data points, and logged updates for tomorrow’s patrol briefing.

Her eyes burned, and her head felt heavy, but she ignored it. There was always more to do.

Footsteps echoed softly behind her, and she didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“You’re still at it,” Damian said, his voice low but carrying that familiar mix of concern and disapproval.

“I’m almost done,” Y/N replied without turning, her voice a touch groggy.

“You said that an hour ago,” he pointed out, stepping closer. He leaned against the side of her chair, arms crossed, his green eyes studying her profile. “You’re exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, though the dark circles under her eyes and the slight sway in her posture told a different story.

Damian raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Y/N, you’re barely upright.”

She waved him off. “It’s not that bad. Just let me finish this last—”

“No,” Damian interrupted firmly. He leaned down, his hand lightly brushing hers to stop her from typing. “You’ve done enough for tonight.”

“But—”

“You’re not helping anyone by running yourself into the ground,” he said, his voice softer this time. “You need rest.”

Y/N sighed, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her temples. “I can’t just leave it unfinished, Damian. There’s too much—”

“You always think there’s too much,” he cut in. He crouched beside her, his intense gaze meeting hers. “You won’t stop unless someone makes you, so I’m making you. You’re going to sleep. Now.”

She blinked at him, taken aback by his determination. He was right, of course, but admitting it wasn’t easy. “You’re bossy, you know that?”

“Yes,” Damian said without hesitation. “And I’m right. So, are you going to listen, or do I have to carry you upstairs?”

A faint smile tugged at her lips. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He smirked. “Try me.”

Y/N shook her head, her smile fading into a sigh. She was too tired to argue. “Fine. I’ll sleep. But…” She hesitated, biting her lip. “Can I sleep with you?”

Damian’s expression softened, the hard edges of his demeanor melting away. “You didn’t even have to ask,” he said quietly.

He straightened, offering her his hand. She took it, letting him pull her to her feet. As they walked toward the elevator, her steps sluggish and unsteady, Damian kept a steadying hand on her lower back.

Once upstairs, they made their way to Damian’s room. She hesitated for a moment at the door, but he gently nudged her inside.

“You know the drill,” he said, grabbing an extra blanket from his closet.

Y/N settled onto his bed, the familiar scent of his room—clean, with a faint hint of sandalwood—immediately soothing her frayed nerves. Damian slipped out of his boots and joined her, his movements careful and deliberate.

As she curled up under the blanket, her head resting on his shoulder, she murmured, “Thanks, Damian.”

“For what?” he asked, his voice low as he adjusted the blanket over her.

“For taking care of me,” she said, her eyes fluttering closed.

He was quiet for a moment before replying, his voice barely above a whisper. “Always.”

Within minutes, Y/N was fast asleep, her even breaths the only sound in the room. Damian lay still beside her, his own exhaustion catching up to him. But before sleep took him, he glanced down at her peaceful face, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

In her presence, he found a kind of calm he couldn’t explain. And in moments like this, he didn’t need to.

The morning light seeped through the gaps in Damian’s blackout curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Y/N stirred, her body comfortably tangled with Damian’s beneath the warm covers. She felt his arm draped over her waist, his steady breath tickling the top of her head.

A sleepy smile crept onto her face as she nestled closer to him, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of his shirt sleeve. It wasn’t often she allowed herself to relax like this, but being in Damian’s arms made it feel safe.

“Are you going to keep poking at my arm or actually get up?” Damian’s voice broke through the peaceful silence, low and teasing.

Y/N glanced up to find his sharp green eyes already open, watching her with amusement. “You’re awake?”

“I’ve been awake for a while,” he replied. “You snore.”

“I do not!” she protested, swatting at his chest.

Damian smirked. “You absolutely do.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, attempting to pull away, but Damian’s arm tightened around her waist. “Not so fast,” he murmured. “I’m comfortable.”

She sighed, her cheeks heating. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” he quipped, his lips twitching into a small smile.

Before she could fire back a retort, the door opened with a sharp knock, and Bruce strode in, dressed in a crisp black suit.

“Good morning,” Bruce said, his tone neutral, though his raised eyebrow suggested he wasn’t entirely surprised to find them curled up together.

Y/N immediately sat up, flustered. Damian, on the other hand, remained completely unfazed, leaning back against the headboard with a faint scowl.

“Do you ever knock?” Damian asked flatly.

Bruce ignored him, crossing his arms. “There’s a gala tonight. Wayne Enterprises is hosting, and your attendance is non-negotiable.”

Damian groaned. “Do I have to?”

“Yes,” Bruce replied firmly. His gaze shifted to Y/N. “That includes you, Y/N. If either of you need a new suit or dress, now’s the time to get one.”

Y/N blinked. “Wait—me? Why do I have to go?”

Bruce gave her a pointed look. “You’re practically part of the family, and it wouldn’t hurt to remind Gotham of that.”

Y/N hesitated, glancing at Damian. He shrugged. “You might as well come. Better than leaving me alone with the socialites.”

Bruce’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile before he turned and left the room, his voice trailing back to them. “Alfred will have the car ready in an hour.”

As the door clicked shut, Y/N flopped back onto the bed with a groan. “A gala? Really?”

Damian smirked, leaning over her. “Come on, it won’t be that bad. Besides, you’ll look amazing in whatever you wear.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Was that a compliment, Damian Wayne?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he replied, though the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed him.

Y/N laughed softly, pulling the blanket over her face. “Fine. But you’re helping me pick a dress.”

Damian lay back down beside her, pulling the blanket down so he could see her face. “Deal. But if I have to suffer through this, so do you.”

She smiled, reaching over to lace her fingers with his. “Fair enough.”

The ride to the boutique had been uneventful, save for Damian begrudgingly trying on a basic black suit. He wasn’t one for frills or unnecessary embellishments, so the simple design suited him perfectly. Y/N, however, had been trapped in the dressing room for what felt like an eternity, torn between choices.

She stepped out for the umpteenth time in a sleek navy dress, the soft material hugging her figure but still modest by her standards. “What about this one?” she asked, her tone a mix of hope and frustration.

Damian, sitting cross-legged in a chair near the fitting rooms, didn’t even glance up from his phone. “It’s fine.”

Y/N groaned. “You’ve said that about all of them! You’re no help.”

Damian sighed, finally looking up. “They’re all fine. Just pick one, Y/N.”

She huffed, disappearing back into the dressing room. After a few moments, Damian stood, wandering over to the racks of dresses. His eyes scanned the options, none of them particularly standing out to him—until one caught his eye.

It was a deep emerald-green dress, sleek and elegant with a high slit on one side and a daringly low back. He plucked it off the rack and knocked on Y/N’s dressing room door.

“Try this,” he said, holding it out.

She opened the door, raising an eyebrow. “You picked something? That’s new.”

“Just put it on,” he replied, shoving it into her hands before stepping back.

When she stepped out wearing it, Damian’s breath hitched. The emerald fabric contrasted beautifully with her tan skin, the cut highlighting her figure in ways that had him swallowing hard. He hadn’t realized just how revealing it was until now—the open back, the slit that stopped just above her mid-thigh.

Y/N frowned, tugging at the hem. “It’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

Damian, still slightly stunned, managed to clear his throat. “It… suits you.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she gave him a small smile. “You think so?”

He nodded, averting his eyes and stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. It’s perfect.”

Thirty minutes before the gala, Y/N was in the bathroom, curling her short brown hair and carefully arranging the red streak in her bangs. She had applied light makeup, her scars faintly visible under the bathroom’s harsh lighting.

She stared at her reflection, her smile faltering. The scars on her forearms were impossible to ignore in the sleeveless dress. Her chest tightened as she ran her fingers over the silvery lines.

A knock on the door startled her.

“Y/N, we need to leave soon,” Damian called from the hallway.

“Just a minute!” she replied.

Grabbing a roll of bandages from the first aid kit on the counter, she opened the door to find Damian waiting in his suit, looking more dashing than she’d ever admit out loud. His eyes immediately landed on the bandages in her hands.

“Are those for your arms?” he asked, frowning.

Y/N avoided his gaze. “Yeah. I just… I don’t want anyone staring.”

Damian stepped closer, his voice soft. “Y/N, you don’t need to hide them. You look incredible as you are.”

Her hands tightened around the bandages. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I’m not,” he insisted, his tone firm. “I’ve already told you—your scars don’t make you any less beautiful. You don’t have to cover them up for anyone.”

She bit her lip, her shoulders slumping. “I know you mean that, but… I just can’t. Not tonight.”

Damian studied her for a moment before nodding. “Alright. If it helps you feel more comfortable, I’ll help you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupted.

Carefully, Damian took the bandages from her and guided her to sit on the bathroom counter. He unrolled the first strip, wrapping it gently around her forearm, his fingers light and precise.

As he worked, he glanced up at her. “You don’t have to hide from me, you know. Ever.”

Her chest tightened at his words, but she managed a small smile. “I know. Thanks, Damian.”

He finished the last wrap, securing it in place before stepping back to admire his work. “There. Happy?”

Y/N nodded, sliding off the counter. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Good,” he said, offering her his arm. “Now let’s get this over with.”

She laughed softly, looping her arm through his. “Lead the way, Wayne.”

The Wayne Enterprises gala was every bit as extravagant as Y/N had dreaded. The grand ballroom was filled with Gotham’s elite, chandeliers casting a warm golden glow over the crowd. Waiters glided through the sea of gowns and suits, carrying trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres. A live orchestra played softly in the background, but none of it made Y/N feel any less out of place.

She clung tightly to Damian’s arm as they walked into the room behind Bruce, who was immediately intercepted by a group of businesspeople. The older Wayne exchanged pleasantries with ease, leaving Damian and Y/N standing awkwardly near the entrance.

“Well, he’s gone,” Damian muttered, glancing toward the throng of people crowding Bruce.

Y/N’s grip on Damian’s arm tightened. “Lucky him,” she whispered, glancing nervously at the crowd.

Damian smirked and glanced down at her. “You’re stuck with me. Try to look a little less like you’re about to bolt.”

She gave him a shaky smile. “Sorry, I’m not exactly used to this.”

“Neither am I,” Damian admitted, his voice low. He guided her toward a quiet corner of the room, away from prying eyes. “Let’s just stay out of the way.”

They found a small sofa tucked near the edge of the ballroom, far from the main event. Y/N sat down beside Damian, feeling a little more at ease with his arm draped protectively around her waist.

“Is it just me, or does everyone here look like they stepped out of a magazine?” Y/N murmured, her eyes scanning the impeccably dressed crowd.

Damian leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “They look like they stepped out of last month’s magazine.”

Y/N stifled a laugh, earning a raised eyebrow from an older woman walking by. She quickly turned her head, biting her lip to suppress her amusement.

“Did you see that guy by the champagne table?” Damian asked, nodding subtly toward a man in a glittering gold suit. “He looks like a walking trophy.”

Y/N finally let out a quiet giggle. “He does! And what about her?” She motioned discreetly toward a woman in a bright pink dress with an enormous bow on the back. “Is she cosplaying as a gift box?”

Damian’s lips quirked into a smirk. “I’m almost certain Alfred could tie a better bow blindfolded.”

Y/N’s laughter grew louder, and Damian’s smirk softened into a rare, genuine smile. He adjusted his arm around her waist, his thumb brushing against the fabric of her dress absentmindedly.

“You’re getting more comfortable,” he noted, his tone warm.

She looked up at him, her cheeks still slightly pink from laughing. “That’s because you’re here,” she admitted softly.

Damian’s green eyes softened. “I told you, you don’t need to be nervous. Most of these people are too self-absorbed to even notice us.”

“Still,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper, “it’s easier with you.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but his arm tightened around her slightly, a silent acknowledgment of her words.

They fell into an easy rhythm, quietly mocking the ridiculous displays of wealth and the ostentatious fashion choices. Damian pointed out a man with an absurdly large fur coat (“Did he wrestle a bear for that?”), and Y/N teased him about a woman with an over-the-top feathered hat (“She’s clearly hiding birds in there”).

For the first time that evening, Y/N felt completely at ease.

“You know,” Damian said after a while, his voice quieter now, “this isn’t so bad. Sitting here with you.”

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart fluttering at his rare moment of openness. “I guess it’s not so bad either.”

They sat there, cocooned in their little corner of the gala, the bustling noise and flashing lights fading into the background as they shared soft laughs and quiet conversation. In that moment, the chaos of Gotham’s elite seemed a world away.

As the night wore on, Y/N leaned back on the sofa, watching Damian sip his water with his usual composed expression. Despite his flawless posture and impeccable suit, she couldn’t help but smirk.

“You look way too uptight,” she said suddenly, leaning closer.

Damian raised an eyebrow at her. “Excuse me?”

She grinned mischievously, reaching for his tie. “Just hold still.”

“What are you—” he began, but she cut him off by gently loosening the perfectly knotted tie.

“There,” she said, slipping it down a few inches. “Now these.” She deftly undid the top two buttons of his shirt, revealing just a hint of his collarbone.

Damian looked at her with mock indignation. “You’re ruining the suit.”

“I’m making you look less like you’re going to a board meeting,” she shot back, her hands moving up to his hair. “And now, this needs some work.”

He stiffened slightly as she ruffled his meticulously combed hair, making it fall messily over his forehead. She leaned back to inspect her work, a triumphant smile spreading across her face.

“Perfect,” she said. “Now you look more like your playboy dad.”

Damian gave her a flat look, brushing a hand through his now tousled hair. “I look like a man-whore,” he deadpanned.

Y/N burst out laughing, the sound so genuine it drew a few curious glances from the nearby tables. She leaned into him, her forehead lightly bumping his shoulder as she tried to stifle her laughter.

“Maybe,” she teased, lifting her head to meet his gaze. Her eyes sparkled as she leaned in, her voice dropping to a soft whisper. “But only for me.”

Before he could respond, she pressed a kiss to his lips, her fingers brushing against the side of his face. Damian froze for a moment, but then his hand moved to her waist, pulling her just a little closer.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N grinned, her cheeks warm. “See? Much better.”

Damian huffed, though his faint blush betrayed his nonchalant expression. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it,” she shot back, settling back into his side.

He shook his head, a small, rare smile tugging at his lips. “Unfortunately.”

Y/N laughed again, leaning into him as they returned to their playful banter. For the first time that evening, Damian didn’t mind the gala—it was worth it, as long as she was by his side.

As Y/N leaned into Damian’s side, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on the back of his hand, she noticed someone approaching from across the room. It was a tall woman, a model by the looks of her, with long legs and a glittering silver dress that sparkled under the chandelier lights. Her confident stride and knowing smile made it clear she had only one target in mind: Damian.

“Well, well, Damian Wayne,” the woman purred as she stopped in front of them. Her voice was smooth, dripping with charm. “I thought you didn’t attend these events unless absolutely necessary.”

Damian’s expression instantly turned cold, his usual stoicism returning in full force. “I don’t,” he replied curtly, his arm still firmly around Y/N’s waist.

The woman’s eyes flicked briefly to Y/N, but she didn’t seem fazed. Instead, she leaned slightly closer to Damian. “Then I must say, this is quite the treat. It’s not every day someone gets to see Gotham’s most eligible bachelor up close.”

Y/N felt a pang of discomfort as the woman’s attention seemed to focus solely on Damian, completely disregarding her. Still, she stayed quiet, not wanting to make a scene.

The woman tilted her head, her perfectly styled hair cascading over one shoulder. “So, who’s your lovely friend?”

“Y/N,” Damian said, his voice firm as he glanced at her. “And she’s not just my friend.”

The woman’s smile faltered slightly, but she recovered quickly. “Ah, I see. Well, aren’t you lucky, Y/N?” Her tone was overly sweet, almost condescending.

Y/N forced a tight-lipped smile, wishing the ground would swallow her whole.

The woman’s gaze drifted down to Y/N’s bandaged arms, and her expression shifted to one of exaggerated curiosity. “Oh, what happened there?” she asked, gesturing toward the bandages. “That’s quite the… fashion statement.”

Y/N’s heart sank, her stomach twisting in knots. She instinctively pulled her arms closer to her body, trying to hide them, but the woman continued.

“Did you injure yourself, or is this some kind of edgy accessory thing?” she added with a laugh, clearly not realizing—or caring—how insensitive her words were.

Damian’s jaw tightened, his green eyes flashing with barely contained anger. He stood abruptly, taking Y/N’s hand in his. “We’re leaving,” he said sharply, glaring at the woman.

The model blinked, startled. “Oh, I didn’t mean—”

Damian didn’t wait for her to finish. He gently but firmly led Y/N through the crowd and out of the ballroom, his grip on her hand protective and steady.

When they finally reached the cool night air outside, Damian stopped and turned to face her. Y/N avoided his gaze, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she blinked back tears.

“Y/N,” Damian said softly, stepping closer.

“I shouldn’t have come,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “I look ridiculous. I don’t belong here.”

“Stop,” he said firmly, but his tone was gentle. He reached out, placing his hands on her shoulders. “None of that is true. You don’t look ridiculous, and you absolutely belong here—with me.”

Her eyes darted up to meet his, tears glistening in them. “But the way she looked at me… the way she talked about my arms…”

“She’s an idiot,” Damian interrupted, his voice filled with conviction. “She has no idea what she’s talking about. You are the strongest, most amazing person I know, Y/N. Those scars don’t define you, and anyone who thinks they do isn’t worth a second of your time.”

Y/N sniffled, her heart aching at the sincerity in his voice. “But they’re so ugly, Damian. I hate them.”

He shook his head, his hands moving down to hold hers. “They’re not ugly,” he said softly. “They’re part of you. They tell your story—everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve overcome. And I think that’s beautiful.”

Her lip quivered, and she looked down, unable to hold his gaze any longer. “I just… I don’t want people to stare.”

“Let them stare,” he said, his voice steady. “If they can’t see how incredible you are, that’s their loss.”

Y/N let out a shaky laugh, wiping at her eyes. “You really mean that?”

“I’ve never meant anything more,” he replied, lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

She smiled weakly, leaning into him as he wrapped his arms around her. “Thank you, Damian.”

“Always,” he murmured, holding her close as the city lights twinkled around them. “Now, let’s skip the rest of this stupid gala. I think we’ve earned some peace and quiet.”

Y/N nodded against his chest, finally feeling a sense of calm wash over her. With Damian by her side, she knew she could face anything.

The ride back to Wayne Manor was quiet but comforting, the hum of the car filling the silence as Y/N leaned against Damian’s shoulder. She felt a mixture of exhaustion and lingering self-doubt from the gala, but Damian’s steady presence soothed her nerves.

When they arrived at the empty manor, the quietness of the grand house felt almost overwhelming. Bruce was still at the gala, and Alfred had retired for the evening, leaving the two of them alone in the vast, echoing halls.

Damian led Y/N to the sitting room, his hand never leaving hers. He gestured for her to sit on the plush couch, and she did, sinking into the soft cushions with a tired sigh.

“Stay here,” Damian said softly before disappearing for a moment. He returned quickly with a glass of water and a blanket, draping it over her shoulders.

“Thanks,” Y/N murmured, smiling up at him.

He sat beside her, his sharp green eyes focused on her arms. His expression softened as he reached for her hands, gently pulling them into his lap. “Take these off,” he said, nodding to the bandages.

She hesitated, her fingers twitching nervously. “Damian, I—”

“You don’t need to hide from me,” he interrupted, his voice low and full of emotion. “Please, let me do this.”

After a long moment, Y/N nodded, letting out a shaky breath. Damian began to carefully unwrap the bandages from her forearms, his touch gentle and deliberate. With each layer that fell away, her scars became more visible under the warm glow of the room’s light.

When the last bandage was removed, Y/N instinctively tried to pull her arms away, but Damian held them firmly, his grip tender. He stared at her arms for a moment, his expression unreadable.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper.

Her eyes widened, and her breath hitched. “Damian…”

He looked up, his green eyes locking with hers. “I mean it, Y/N. Every part of you—everything you’ve been through—it makes you you. And I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but they weren’t from sadness this time. She leaned forward, her forehead resting against his. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?”

“It’s the truth,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Then, with infinite care, Damian began peppering her arms with kisses. He started at her wrists, his lips brushing over the scars as though they were delicate treasures, and moved upward, taking his time with each kiss.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed as she watched him, her heart swelling with a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Damian, you don’t have to…”

“I want to,” he said firmly, lifting his head to meet her gaze. “I want you to know how much you mean to me, how much I care about every part of you.”

Before she could respond, he leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was soft but full of unspoken emotions. His hands cupped her face, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that had started to fall.

When they finally broke apart, Y/N smiled, her heart feeling lighter than it had in ages. “I love you, Damian.”

A rare, soft smile spread across his face. “I love you too.”

They sat there in the quiet of the manor, wrapped in each other’s arms. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt truly at peace, knowing she was loved and accepted exactly as she was.

After the tender moment in the sitting room, Y/N excused herself to change into something more comfortable. She wandered upstairs to Damian’s room, pulling open one of his drawers and grabbing a pair of his loose athletic shorts and a plain black t-shirt. They smelled faintly of him—clean and comforting.

When she came back downstairs, Damian was still in the sitting room, his tie discarded and his shirt halfway unbuttoned. He glanced up when she entered, his eyes briefly flicking over her before he cleared his throat and looked away.

“Those look better on you than they ever did on me,” he murmured, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Y/N grinned as she padded over to him, the shorts hanging slightly loose on her hips. “Comfy and stylish? You’re spoiling me, Wayne.”

She sat beside him, tucking her legs underneath her, and reached for the rest of the buttons on his shirt. Damian stiffened slightly, his hand twitching on his knee.

“I can do that myself,” he said, his voice a little too steady, like he was trying to keep his composure.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her fingers already working on the next button. “Relax. You’re hurt, remember? I’m just helping.”

He didn’t protest further, though his sharp green eyes followed her hands as she worked her way down his shirt. His cheeks flushed faintly as she undid the last button, pushing the fabric aside to reveal his toned chest and defined abs.

Y/N bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile. “You’re ridiculously fit, you know that?” she teased, her fingers lightly brushing over the smooth planes of his stomach.

Damian shifted slightly, his blush deepening. “It’s from training,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze.

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, leaning in closer. Without warning, she pressed a soft kiss just above his navel.

Damian’s breath hitched, and he froze, his hands gripping the couch cushion as if it might steady him. “Y/N…”

She looked up at him with a playful grin. “What? Can’t handle a little attention?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out, his face now bright red.

“Relax, Damian,” she said softly, pressing another kiss to his abs, just to tease him. “I’m just appreciating how lucky I am.”

He groaned softly, tipping his head back against the couch. “You’re insufferable,” he muttered, though there was no heat in his voice.

“And you love it,” she teased, leaning back and giving him a wink.

He finally managed to compose himself, shaking his head as he reached for her hand. “You’re impossible,” he said, though the small, fond smile on his lips gave him away.

Y/N laughed, leaning into his side as he pulled her close. “Admit it, Damian. You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

He glanced down at her, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “No,” he said quietly, his voice soft and genuine. “I wouldn’t.”

After their playful exchange, Damian stood up, brushing himself off. “I’m going to change,” he said, his tone calm but a slight smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“Sure,” Y/N said, settling back into the couch, already feeling more at ease.

When he returned a few minutes later, Y/N was scrolling idly through her phone, but the moment she glanced up, her breath caught. Damian had changed into a pair of dark gray joggers that sat low on his hips, his upper body completely bare. His toned muscles and sharp definition were on full display, the dim lighting accentuating every detail.

Y/N’s face heated instantly, and Damian caught the way her eyes widened slightly before she quickly looked away, pretending to be unbothered.

“Comfortable enough for you?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he sat back down beside her.

“I—yeah,” she stammered, suddenly very interested in the pattern on the couch.

Damian leaned closer, his smirk growing. “You’re staring,” he said, his tone teasing but low enough to make her heart race.

“Am not,” she mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes.

He chuckled softly, sitting back and grabbing a book from the coffee table. “If you say so.”

Y/N shifted awkwardly, trying to keep her focus on anything but him. Damian opened the book, flipping to the marked page, and began to read aloud. His voice was steady and soothing, the words flowing smoothly as he lost himself in the story.

But Y/N wasn’t paying attention. How could she, when he looked like that? Her eyes kept drifting to him—his strong arms, the curve of his jaw, the way his hair was still slightly messy from earlier. She was completely distracted, her cheeks warm as she tried and failed to focus.

Damian stopped mid-sentence, snapping the book shut and turning to her with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not even listening, are you?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “What? I am!”

He tilted his head, smirking. “Really? What did I just read?”

Her mouth opened, then closed again. She let out a nervous laugh, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Uh… something about… words?”

Damian’s smirk widened as he leaned closer. “You’re hopeless,” he said, his voice full of teasing amusement.

She huffed, crossing her arms. “Well, maybe it’s hard to concentrate when you’re sitting there looking like a Greek god,” she shot back, her words spilling out before she could stop them.

Damian froze for a split second, his cheeks faintly coloring, but he recovered quickly, his smirk returning. “So you were checking me out.”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

He chuckled, gently tugging her hands away from her face. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said softly, his green eyes warm as he met her gaze. “I’m flattered, really.”

She glared at him half-heartedly. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, leaning back with a smug grin. “But I could say the same about you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. “Fine. You’re ridiculously handsome. Happy now?”

Damian’s smirk softened into a small, genuine smile. “Only because you’re here,” he said quietly.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she leaned into his side, letting his arm wrap around her. “You’re lucky you’re charming,” she murmured, closing her eyes as his warmth enveloped her.

“And you’re lucky I tolerate your terrible listening skills,” he teased, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

Y/N laughed softly, feeling utterly content in his arms.

The next morning at Wayne Manor was quiet and peaceful. Y/N woke up to the sound of faint birdsong outside the window, sunlight streaming through the curtains. Damian was already awake, sitting at the edge of the bed reading. He glanced over when she stirred, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Good morning,” he said softly, placing the book on the nightstand.

“Morning,” she murmured, stretching and sitting up. “You’ve been up for a while, haven’t you?”

“Only a little,” he replied, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “I was letting you sleep in.”

Y/N smiled sleepily, leaning into his touch. After a moment, she stood and wandered to the bathroom to freshen up, changing into one of Damian’s hoodies and her own leggings. When she returned, Damian was waiting for her by the door.

“Come on,” he said, offering his hand. “I’ll make us breakfast.”

Down in the massive kitchen, Y/N sat perched on a stool as Damian began pulling ingredients from the fridge. Despite his reputation as a fearsome vigilante, Damian was surprisingly skilled in the kitchen. He moved with precision, chopping vegetables with ease and setting up everything for a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast.

“Are you just going to sit there and watch, or do you want to help?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder with a faint smirk.

Y/N raised her hands defensively. “I don’t want to ruin your masterpiece.”

Damian rolled his eyes but gestured for her to come over. “I’ll guide you.”

She hesitated, but his reassuring expression convinced her to join him. He handed her a knife and a cutting board, placing a small pile of vegetables in front of her. “Just slice these. I’ll show you how.”

Standing behind her, Damian reached out to gently guide her hands. His touch was firm but careful as he adjusted her grip on the knife, his chest brushing against her back.

“Like this,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Use your fingers to guide the blade but keep them tucked under so you don’t cut yourself.”

Y/N followed his instructions, her hands moving awkwardly at first. Damian’s presence was both comforting and distracting, his warmth radiating through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“See? You’re doing fine,” he murmured, his breath brushing against her ear.

“Maybe,” she replied, glancing up at him with a small smile. “But I’m pretty sure you’re doing most of the work.”

He chuckled softly, his hands retreating as he let her take over. “You’ll get the hang of it. Just don’t let the knife intimidate you.”

She managed a few decent slices before turning to him triumphantly. “Not bad, right?”

“Not bad at all,” Damian said, taking the board from her and adding the vegetables to the pan.

Y/N leaned against the counter, watching him cook with a sense of quiet admiration. “You’re really good at this, you know.”

“I had to learn,” he said simply, stirring the pan. “Father and Alfred can’t always be around to cook, and I prefer knowing what’s in my meals.”

“Practical as always,” she teased, earning a small smirk from him.

Once the food was ready, they sat together at the kitchen island, sharing a meal in comfortable silence. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a warmth settle in her chest as she watched Damian, his normally stoic expression softened in the calm of the morning.

“Thank you,” she said suddenly, her voice quiet.

He looked up, his brow furrowing slightly. “For what?”

“For this,” she replied, gesturing to the food and the peaceful moment they were sharing. “For being… you.”

Damian’s expression softened further, and he reached across the counter to take her hand. “I could say the same to you,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing against her knuckles.

Y/N smiled, squeezing his hand gently. Moments like these reminded her of just how much she loved him—and how lucky she was to have him in her life.

After breakfast, Y/N and Damian cleared the table together, falling into a comfortable rhythm as they washed and dried the dishes. Despite the mundane nature of the task, Y/N found herself smiling. It was the simplicity of it all—doing something normal with him, no danger, no pressure. Just the two of them.

Damian handed her a plate to dry, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and Y/N couldn’t help but glance at his forearms. “You know,” she said, trying to suppress a grin, “you make doing dishes look annoyingly good.”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Annoyingly good?”

“You heard me,” she teased, bumping her hip against his.

Damian shook his head, a faint chuckle escaping him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But you love it,” she countered with a grin, making him roll his eyes fondly.

After cleaning up, they wandered into the library, a massive room filled with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Damian selected a book he thought she’d enjoy and handed it to her, settling into one of the large armchairs. Y/N curled up beside him, her legs draped over his lap as she flipped through the pages.

For a while, the only sounds were the faint rustle of pages and the crackle of the fireplace Damian had lit. Y/N glanced up from her book occasionally, watching the way Damian’s brow furrowed slightly as he read, his focus intense.

“You’re staring again,” he said suddenly, not looking up from his book.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “What? No, I’m not!”

He finally looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar.”

She huffed, closing her book and leaning her head against his shoulder. “Fine, I was staring. But can you blame me? You’re kind of distracting.”

Damian smirked, closing his own book and setting it aside. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer.

Y/N laughed, snuggling into his side. “And you’re lucky you’re tolerable,” she teased, earning a soft chuckle from him.

Later in the afternoon, Y/N decided to bake cookies, dragging Damian into the kitchen with her. He claimed he didn’t have much interest in sweets, but she caught him sneaking bites of the cookie dough when he thought she wasn’t looking.

“You do have a sweet tooth!” she exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“I do not,” he said firmly, though the faint smear of dough on his lip betrayed him.

Y/N laughed, grabbing a towel to wipe his face. “You’re such a liar.”

Damian smirked, leaning down to steal a quick kiss. “And you’re nosy,” he shot back, his voice soft but teasing.

By the time the cookies were done, the kitchen was a mess, but Y/N couldn’t bring herself to care. They sat together at the counter, eating warm cookies straight from the tray, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment.

“I like this,” she said softly, glancing at Damian.

He looked at her, his expression calm but warm. “Like what?”

“This. Us. Just… being together like this.”

A rare, soft smile crossed his face. “I like it too,” he admitted, reaching over to take her hand.

Y/N smiled, squeezing his hand gently. No matter how chaotic their lives could get, moments like these reminded her that they were worth every challenge.

Y/N was curled up on the couch, flipping through a book, when she heard Damian’s voice call from upstairs.

“Y/N! We’re out of shampoo!”

She sighed, closing her book and standing up. “How does someone who barely uses hair products run out of shampoo?” she muttered to herself as she made her way to the bathroom.

Pushing open the door, she stopped in her tracks. Damian was lounging in the large clawfoot tub, water up to his waist, his bare chest visible and lightly glistening with water droplets. His hair was damp, dark strands sticking to his forehead.

The sight made her cheeks warm instantly. “Damian!” she exclaimed, her voice rising slightly. “You’re in the bath!”

“Obviously,” he replied, smirking as he rested his arms on the edge of the tub, completely unbothered by her flustered reaction. “You came, so I assume you’re bringing me more shampoo.”

“I thought you needed shampoo!” she huffed, crossing her arms to try and cover her embarrassment.

“I do,” he said innocently, though the mischievous glint in his green eyes gave him away.

“You’re unbelievable,” Y/N muttered, stepping closer. “You’re not even out of shampoo, are you?”

“No,” he admitted, tilting his head slightly, his smirk growing. “But since you’re here…”

She raised an eyebrow. “Since I’m here what?”

He gestured to the small bottle of shampoo on the counter. “I thought you could put some in my hair and massage my scalp. It’s a relaxing experience, or so I’ve heard.”

Y/N stared at him, her mouth falling open. “You called me all the way up here to be your personal shampoo assistant?”

“Precisely.” His tone was so matter-of-fact that she couldn’t tell if he was teasing or genuinely serious.

“You’re impossible, Damian Wayne,” she said with an exasperated sigh.

“And yet, you love me,” he replied smoothly, leaning back in the tub with a faint smirk.

Y/N rolled her eyes but grabbed the bottle of shampoo anyway. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she muttered, kneeling by the side of the tub.

“I hear that a lot,” he teased, tilting his head back so she could reach his hair more easily.

Shaking her head, Y/N squirted a bit of shampoo into her hands and began to work it into his damp hair. Her fingers moved in slow, circular motions, massaging his scalp as the shampoo lathered.

Damian let out a soft hum of contentment, his eyes fluttering shut. “This is quite nice,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N replied, trying to suppress a smile. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Why not?” he murmured, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “You’re very good at this.”

“Because I’m not your personal hairdresser, that’s why,” she said, though her tone lacked any real annoyance.

Damian chuckled softly, his hands resting on the edge of the tub. “You’re always so good to me, habibti.”

She paused for a moment, her fingers still in his hair, before continuing with a soft smile. “I do spoil you, don’t I?”

He cracked one eye open, glancing at her. “You do, but I’m not complaining.”

Y/N laughed, leaning over to rinse the suds from his hair with the handheld showerhead. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Only for you,” he replied smoothly, sitting up slightly so she could finish.

As she carefully rinsed out the last of the shampoo, she couldn’t help but shake her head, her smile widening. “You’re lucky you’re charming,” she said, setting the showerhead aside.

“And you’re lucky you tolerate me,” Damian shot back, his smirk softening into a rare, genuine smile.

Y/N sat back on her heels, her cheeks warm as she looked at him. Moments like these, filled with teasing banter and quiet affection, reminded her why she loved him so much.

After Damian finished his bath, he stood in the bedroom, a towel slung around his shoulders, as Y/N rummaged through his closet to pick out something for him to wear.

“Blouse or no blouse?” she asked teasingly, holding up one of his signature button-down shirts.

“Blouse,” he replied without hesitation, crossing his arms as he watched her. “And don’t take too long. I can’t walk around shirtless all day, as much as I’m sure you’d prefer it.”

Y/N shot him a playful glare but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re insufferable.”

She tossed him a plain white T-shirt, which he pulled on quickly, and then handed him the button-down. Damian slipped his arms through the sleeves but made no move to button it. Instead, he gave her a pointed look.

“You’re perfectly capable of doing this yourself,” Y/N said, raising an eyebrow.

“But you’re better at it,” he replied smoothly, stepping closer.

“Uh-huh, sure.” She sighed but stepped forward, her hands moving to the buttons of his shirt. “You’re so spoiled, Damian.”

As she worked her way up the shirt, fastening each button carefully, Damian’s gaze stayed fixed on her face, his expression unreadable. When she reached the top, she paused, leaving the top two buttons undone.

“There,” she said, smoothing the fabric over his shoulders. “That looks good.”

Damian glanced down at her handiwork before meeting her gaze again. “You have good taste, doll.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the nickname. “Doll?” she repeated, her cheeks heating.

He smirked, leaning in slightly. “Yes. Doll. It suits you.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she quickly looked away, fussing with the hem of his shirt. “Don’t start.”

“Start what?” he asked innocently, stepping even closer. “Calling you doll? Why not?”

Her blush deepened as she tried to focus on straightening his collar. “Because it’s… it’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” His voice was soft now, teasing. “I think it’s fitting. Doll. Doll. Doll.”

Every time he said it, her blush grew, and Damian’s smirk only widened.

“Stop it,” she mumbled, though the small smile on her lips betrayed her.

“Why should I? You look adorable when you’re flustered,” he said, his tone gentle but amused.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” Damian replied, leaning down so their faces were inches apart.

She smiled, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, her lips brushing against the faint warmth of his skin. “Only because it’s you,” she said softly.

Damian’s smirk softened into a rare, genuine smile as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. “Good. Because I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.”

Y/N rested her hands against his chest, her smile widening as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s warmth. Moments like this were all she needed to remind her just how much she adored him.

Y/N and Damian were trying their best to sneak down the hall unnoticed, their laughter muffled as they whispered to each other. Damian was leading the way, but Y/N tugged on his sleeve, holding him back when she thought she heard a noise.

“Relax,” he whispered, smirking at her. “Father’s probably holed up in the Batcave. He won’t—”

“Trying to go somewhere, are we?” Bruce’s deep voice suddenly cut through the air, making both of them freeze mid-step.

Slowly, they turned to find Bruce standing in the doorway of the study, arms crossed and his signature disapproving expression firmly in place.

Damian groaned softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Father.”

“Don’t ‘Father’ me,” Bruce said, raising an eyebrow. “Where exactly were the two of you sneaking off to?”

“We weren’t sneaking,” Y/N said quickly, though her guilty expression betrayed her.

Bruce sighed. “Right. Clearly, you need some discipline. Both of you—library. One hour. No electronics.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “You’re locking us in the library? Like we’re kids?”

Bruce gave her a pointed look. “You’re lucky it’s not the Batcave training simulator.”

Damian muttered something under his breath but didn’t argue. Grabbing Y/N’s hand, he led her toward the library with Bruce following close behind.

Once inside, Bruce locked the door, leaving them surrounded by towering shelves of books. Y/N flopped onto one of the plush armchairs, groaning dramatically.

“This is ridiculous,” she grumbled.

“Agreed,” Damian said, sitting beside her. Then, his lips curved into a smirk. “But he underestimated us.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow as Damian pulled her MP3 player out of his pocket, holding it up triumphantly.

“You stole that from me!” she said, trying to snatch it back, but Damian held it out of her reach.

“Borrowed,” he corrected. “Now, are we sharing headphones, or are you going to pout?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but grabbed one of the earbuds he offered, placing it in her ear as Damian did the same. Scrolling through her playlist, he settled on a song and hit play.

The familiar opening chords of Scotty Doesn’t Know filled their ears, and Y/N immediately covered her face with her hands. “No. You did not just pick this song.”

Damian chuckled, leaning back casually in his seat. “What? It’s catchy.”

As the chorus began, Damian’s smirk deepened. He sang along softly, his voice low and teasing:

“Scotty doesn’t know that Fiona and me

Do it in my van every Sunday…”

Y/N’s face turned bright red. She shoved his shoulder lightly. “Damian!”

“She tells him she’s in church but she doesn’t go,” he continued, completely unbothered, his smirk widening as he watched her squirm. “Still she’s on her knees, and…”

“Stop it!” Y/N said, laughing despite herself as she buried her face in her hands.

Damian chuckled, pulling her hands away gently. “You’re so easy to fluster,” he said, leaning closer. “It’s adorable.”

“You’re insufferable,” she pouted, though the small smile tugging at her lips betrayed her mock annoyance.

“And yet, you’re smiling,” Damian pointed out, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the warmth spreading through her chest. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“I know,” he replied smugly, leaning back with an air of satisfaction as the song continued to play.

Y/N shook her head, leaning her head on his shoulder as they shared the headphones. Even in moments like these—ridiculous and teasing—she wouldn’t trade their time together for anything.

The library had gone from a place of quiet punishment to their own little haven of playful chaos. After the impromptu duet with Scotty Doesn’t Know, Y/N and Damian had spent some time flipping through books and making up absurd backstories for the portraits hanging on the walls.

But it wasn’t long before Damian made a teasing remark about her flustered reaction to the song, and Y/N, determined to get the upper hand, decided to push back in the most Damian-annoying way possible.

She leaned casually against the edge of the long wooden table, arms folded and a sly smile playing on her lips. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

Damian smirked as he approached, his hands slipping into his pockets. “I don’t think. I know.”

“Do you, now?” she challenged, tilting her head slightly as he stopped in front of her.

Without another word, Y/N reached out, grabbing the front of his unbuttoned shirt to pull him closer. Before Damian could make a snarky remark, she closed the gap, her lips pressing against his in a kiss that was slow and teasing.

Damian’s sharp wit faltered as he instinctively placed his hands on her hips, steadying himself against the table. He kissed her back, but there was a slight hesitance, his usual confidence giving way to the softer side he only showed around her.

Y/N, emboldened, nipped at his bottom lip, then gently suckled on it before pulling back, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She smirked at him knowingly, her voice low and teasing. “Speechless, Wayne? That’s a first.”

Damian’s breath hitched, and he immediately pulled away, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. He avoided her gaze, clearing his throat as he ran a hand through his already-messy hair. “You’re insufferable,” he muttered, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his embarrassment.

Y/N leaned against the table, crossing her arms as she studied him, her grin widening. “You’re blushing,” she teased.

“I’m not,” Damian insisted, though the redness spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears said otherwise.

“You so are!” she laughed, stepping closer and poking his side playfully. “I’ve never seen the great Damian Wayne lose his cool like this.”

He finally glanced at her, his green eyes narrowing playfully. “You’re lucky I tolerate you.”

“Admit it,” she said, her voice softening as she cupped his cheek. “You love it.”

Damian sighed dramatically, though the smile on his face softened as he leaned into her touch. “Only because it’s you.”

Y/N smiled warmly, leaning up to press another soft kiss to his cheek. “Good answer.”

Damian shook his head, the embarrassment fading into fondness as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. Even when she drove him crazy, he wouldn’t trade moments like this for anything.

Y/N stayed pressed against Damian’s chest, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders as she grinned up at him. “You know, for someone who’s so stoic all the time, you’re pretty easy to fluster.”

Damian raised an eyebrow, his usual smirk starting to return. “Only because you catch me off guard, doll.”

The nickname made her cheeks flush, but she quickly masked it with a playful roll of her eyes. “Don’t think calling me that is going to distract me from how red you were a second ago.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Damian replied smoothly, leaning down slightly so their faces were close again.

Y/N squinted at him suspiciously. “You’re plotting something.”

“Always,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

Before she could fire back, Damian tightened his hold on her waist and spun her around, lifting her effortlessly so she was sitting on the edge of the table.

“Damian!” she exclaimed, gripping his arms for balance as she laughed.

He stepped between her legs, his hands resting on either side of her on the table. “You think you’re the only one who can tease?” he asked, a glint of mischief in his green eyes.

“Oh, is that what this is?” Y/N shot back, trying to sound unfazed even as her heart raced. “A challenge?”

“Maybe.” He leaned in closer, his nose brushing lightly against hers. “Though I think I’m already winning.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, determined not to let him have the upper hand. Without breaking eye contact, she leaned forward, pressing a feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back with a smug smile.

“Still think you’re winning?” she asked sweetly.

Damian blinked, caught off guard for a moment, before shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “You’re relentless.”

“And you love it,” she replied confidently.

“Unfortunately,” he said, his smirk returning.

Y/N poked his chest lightly. “You’re terrible at pretending to be annoyed.”

Damian sighed dramatically, straightening up but keeping one hand resting on her knee. “You’ve ruined me, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome,” she said with a cheeky grin.

Before they could continue their playful back-and-forth, the sound of the library door unlocking echoed through the room.

“Time’s up,” Bruce’s voice announced from the doorway.

Y/N and Damian quickly separated, though not before Damian helped her off the table with a steadiness that seemed far too natural.

Bruce raised an eyebrow as he stepped inside. “You two actually survived without electronics?”

“Barely,” Damian said, his tone dry as ever.

Bruce glanced between the two of them, clearly suspicious but choosing not to comment. “Dinner’s in an hour. Try not to cause any more trouble until then.”

Y/N couldn’t help but grin as Bruce walked away. She glanced at Damian, who rolled his eyes but smirked faintly.

“You heard the man,” she teased. “No trouble.”

Damian leaned in close, his voice low and amused. “Since when do we ever listen to him?”

Y/N laughed softly, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the door. “C’mon, let’s keep him guessing.”

[nectardaddy]

BITTER . . . kyotani “mad dog” kentaro + f! reader

                     𖥔    CHAPTER ONE : ACCOUNTABILITY    𖥔

warnings : 17+ to read, language, addiction, illegal activities, brief allusion to harassment

She's ordered to take ten anger management sessions, but she doesn't even believe she can last one.

The air is cold, and cuts right through her jacket - a hand me down hoodie from her older sister. Weezer, a shitty band in her own right, plastered far too big for her liking across the back. It's too thin to actually break the cold, but it's at least something to cover her arms.

She went to the community center despite her well wishes. But the courts and judges don’t give a damn about wishes and prayers, so she went anyway with a nervous gut and chink in her armor. She doesn't remember the  building to be so big, so daunting. She frankly doesn't remember anything past six months, as she was too high to care about anything else than her next drug run. So she lingers outside, in the cold, by herself and waits.

Her nerves are shot and she's tired, working odd hours at a nearby gas station made her eyes dark and lifeless. The only glimmer of hope is that she's able to sneak a few packs of cigarettes every week, a five finger discount as she called it, and blame the off counts on other addicts that frequent the parking lot. She knows a handful of them, and she feels bad sometimes about blaming them. But the feelings stop just as quick as they come, because she knows they'd throw her under the bus just as fast.

She takes the cigarettes from her hoodie pocket and opens them, only three left and a lighter. She'll need more than just three to get her through the rest of the day, because in her mind, nicotine is a hell of a lot better than cocaine. The first drag hits her hard, the cold air mixed with smoke makes her want to cough, but she swallows hard before it gets too bad. The second, calms her nerves and she feels her shoulders finally drop. The third, she hears her phone ping and she forgets about the serene feeling entirely.

Flipping it open, she reads a text from her lawyer. Real straight laced guy, no nonsense, but damn good for a court appointed guy. The fact he got her out of going back to jail was a miracle within itself.

Suit, sent at 8:19: Session starts at 8:30 today. Are you there?

She replies with a quick, “yeah,” before she closes it and sighs. Eleven minutes until she has to face her fears and enter the building. It's not as if she cares about anger management, she'd go head first if it were anywhere else, take the stupid classes and be done. But this building held memories and a dark past. Held a part of her she had long forgotten about, a part that felt safe enough to share her grievances with other strangers with the same nasty habit.

The only solace she found now was in a pack of cigarettes and her fist through her bedroom door.

Anger was relatively new for her. She read somewhere that extended drug use could flip one's personality on its head, fry the brain, and struggle to make pathways. She thinks that's why she wants to grit her teeth and let her fist fly when the washing machine breaks for a third time in a month, when she used to just sigh and shrug it off.

All the drugs made her bite the hand clean off of anyone that wanted to help - but she's six months sober and still feels the same way.

Her cigarette is almost burnt down when a man approaches her - three more minutes and she would have to go inside - and she takes her chances with staying out in the cold. He's got dark eyes, a permanent scowl, with remnants of a formerly busted lip, and an aura that told her to get away. His attire matched the energy - a punk through and through. For a second she thought she should go inside, but a quick look at the building made her want to heave.

He approached her in a lazy stride as he took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. If it was one thing she knew like the back of her hand, it was an addict. He was jittery, standoffish, and when his eyes met hers it seems like she's a godsend.

“You gotta light?” His voice was rough, gravelly, like he just rolled out of bed and decided to show up.

“Yeah, hold on.” She fishes the cigarettes out of her pocket again and plucks out the lighter. He's already got the smoke between his lips, and she catches his hand shaking when he reaches out his palm. Addict. “Here.”

He recoils and the cigarette almost falls from his lips. “Are you fucking with me?” He sounds offended, looking at her like a crazed woman when all she really did was offer him the only lighter she had.  

“What?”

“You stupid or something?” That strikes a nerve.

“Are you stupid?” She repeats, but her words have a bite to them. A singe she can feel in the back of her throat, “it's just a lighter, jackass. Light your cigarette or fuck off somewhere.”

“You're the one offering someone a white lighter, Weezer.” She feels her blood pressure rise over the interaction, all this over a god forsaken lighter. And the quick note of the band name on her hoodie makes her bite her tongue. “They're bad luck, ‘put a countdown on your head if you use one.”

“Maybe you could use the countdown.” She pulls the lighter back with a grimace and puts it back in her pocket.

He rolls his eyes, the kind where she thinks they might just stay back in his skull, before he walks off. Muttering under his breath, “can't even smoke in peace,” until he's out of ear shot and can't hear what else he has to say.

“Asshole.”

The room is stuffy and cramped, she feels like she can't breathe because right down the hallway is the door that leads to hell. There's a weight in the air as she looks around, everybody there looks the same type: bad news. There's a guy who's twice her age, and old enough to make it seem like he has no fight left in him - the scowl and black eye tell her differently. There's a woman around her age, maybe a little younger, but looks jittery and skittish - probably went barking up the wrong tree. And the others fall in between the two extremes - normal looking but a festering anger that radiated from them like a space heater.

But the chairs are in rows, and she thanks the stars it's not a circle.

The door to the room opens again and her eyes flicker over in a bored attempt to stay busy. She knows him, Yaku Morisuke, went to high school with him years ago and knows he's one bad decision from committing a felony. His eyes meet hers, and for a moment he looks relieved, before his lips pull into a sly smile and he makes his way over.

“There's no way they got your ass in here,” he's teasing but there's a hint of the same old dissonance. She doesn't believe the man has a shred of kindness in his body, but she finds herself chuckling anyway.

He sits beside her. She's seen him here and there since graduation, doesn't remember if she saw him during her benders, but knows they talked right before she went to jail the first time.

Possession: one count.

He hasn't changed much since then; the first time in means she didn't stay long. The only thing that has changed is his demeanor. Not as flighty as he used to be, more aggressive than usual. “Not surprised to see you here though, it's a shocker they didn't send you sooner.”

He laughs. “They have, three times actually.”

“Shit, Morisuke,” she laughs, but isn't surprised. “What the hell did you do?”

“Apparently it's frowned upon to hit someone with a bottle in a bar.” He talks about it like he's proud of it and gives her a cheeky smile. “Could've fooled me though, I've seen it in a ton of movies.” She remembers him to be a terror in high school, standing at 163cm with a rage topping him out at 195cm. She's seen his eyes go red, and kept it noted to steer clear of the receiving end. Good to know he’s only gotten worse.

Then she gets the question she always does.

“How've you been?”

The answer is immediate, practiced, and honed. “I'm good.” A complete and utter lie. The last time she was even remotely good was before she ever stepped foot in this place to sit in uncomfortable metal chairs and talk about her feelings. “Been setting myself straight finally.” Not a complete lie, but even she feels the sense of doubt in her words. Then she repeats the phrase that everyone is looking for, the only phrase they care about. “I'm clean.”

“Hell yeah,” he gives her a smile. He seems genuine, but there's always some underlying message when people ask.

Sometimes it's religion, that she should find god and it would help her stay clean - god is the one who destroyed her life in the first place, so she always declines. For others it's morbid curiosity, an addict is like an animal at the zoo, they finally get to see one in real life - she always feels prodded at with this one. More often than not, it's to make themselves feel better - they may be fucked up but at least they're not as fucked up as her.

She doesn't say anything else, only gives him a half hearted smile. Then the door opens and closes again, and it's the same asshole from outside.

She notices Morisuke's demeanor changes when he does, rolling his eyes and sitting back in the chair. The blonde’s got his arms crossed, and if he wasn't so small and thinly framed she would actually be a little cautious.

“You know that guy?”

“Yeah,” he groans. She sees a glimpse of the Yaku from high school, and why he's in here in the first place. His jaw is tight and he's opening and closing his fist, a shitty attempt to calm himself down as it's obviously not working. Something happened between the two but he leaves it unsaid. “That's Mad Dog.”

She makes a weak attempt to stifle a laugh, only it catches the guard dog's attention. He's got eyes that could kill her, and for a fraction of a second she thinks she's ok with that. Hopes the man chops her into tiny little pieces, then she wouldn't have to bear the thought of passing the door to hell on the way out.

But he looks away and she's left unscathed.

The man sits down, too close for comfort to the pair and she sees Yaku visibly stiffen. He's only a few chairs away but the blonde next to her seems like he'd rather be on the opposite side of the country.

“What kind of name is that?”

“A name you get when you're one felony away from your third strike.”

She doesn't ask any more questions.

The class starts after that. It's boring, and it drones on. The therapist is a nice woman, kind hearted, but has something to her that lacks all fear. She can tell she's molded the class to what fits her, what protects her from a room full of court ordered rage machines.

The class doesn't introduce themselves. Doesn't go around in a circle and say their name or drug of choice; in this case, offense of choice. It's different than what she expected, but the room two doors down still burns a hole in the back of her mind.

She's supposed to be learning how to recognize her anger, how to fix it, but all she can think about is the bounce in her knee. She focuses on it, the tapping of her shoes was quiet, but loud to her as she counted every one.

57. 58. 59.

If she counts, she doesn't think about drugs. If she counts, maybe she'll forget about the drugs entirely.

It never works out that way though. She counts, she hits 200, then she feels like ripping her hair out at the root. Like screaming until her throat feels raw, then clawing at it to get it to work again. But she keeps counting regardless, and hopes by the time she reaches 200 the class will be over.

123. 124. 125.

She needs another cigarette, if the class wasn't a restriction on her life, she would've gone and smoked by now. But she swallows hard and keeps tapping her foot. Yaku looks over at her, it goes unnoticed, but she feels him nudge her shoulder.

“What?” She's whispering, but it still comes out in a snap. He grimaces, he's one second away from telling her off but bites his tongue - maybe the three classes were finally working out for him.

“Chill out.” He's annoyed, and his gaze is as sharp as a knife.

She mumbles a small, “sorry,” before she stops all together. Now she's just counting and her eyes are looking for anything and everything to focus on.

They catch the guard dog's again.

He's got the same fidgety demeanor as her. It makes her wonder what his drug of choice is, or if he was that reliant on nicotine. He doesn't back down and he keeps his eyes on her - a silent admission that he didn't bow to anyone. So she looks away first and sighs to herself.

There's a speck of empathy for him, the guard dog. Lost humanity makes you do stupid things, detrimental things, illegal things. But the empathy gets wiped clean off at the remembrance of the exchange in the morning. Now she's forgotten the number she was on and has to start over, and it's all his fault.

1. 2. 3.

It's his fault she feels that familiar feeling start to bubble up in her chest. His fault for talking to her like that. His fault for engaging with her in the first place. His fault for being a huge dick.

4. 5. 6.

“You need to become aware of what triggers your anger.” The therapist cuts through her counting and she feels like she wants to scream.

“Once you're aware of it, you can navigate your way around those things.” Right now, it's him that's pissing her off and she doesn't even know him. All she knows is that he called her stupid over a god damn lighter.

7. 8. 9.

“So you need people around you to hold you accountable.” She closes her eyes at the therapist's statement, she knows where the conversation is going and it makes her feel sick.

Another glorified sponsor, a partner, a silly excuse to lie through her teeth about what she was really doing.

She had a sponsor before, someone to “hold her accountable.” An older guy, around 50, used to be on meth's leash and looked the part - she hasn't talked to him since their third conversation. He found it a prime advantage to chat up a younger woman, send her things that made her eyes go wide and grit her teeth, so she blocked the number and relapsed the same day.

She hits ten and takes a deep breath, only to continue counting with her eyes closed the rest of the time.

Her accountability partner is Mad Dog.

The therapist said it's better if they didn't know their partner from the get go, no internal bias, and not an ounce of empathy for a friend. So Morisuke paired up with the guy beside him, said that he never talked to his partners in the first place so it didn't even matter.

That pissed her off.

Gas was only poured on the fire as she continued to sit there and realize everyone else had a partner besides her.

Then she realized there was only one other person in the same situation, Yaku realized it too - the guard dog.

“Don't talk to that guy,” he warns, “just say you have a partner, they don't give a shit.” But she's already out of her seat with a vengeance, and she doesn't even know why. Maybe it was the rush, a shred of familiarity that didn't involve snorting lines off a coffee table. Possibly because there was something welcoming about the anger. Or maybe she was just down right stupid.

“You're my partner.” A curt statement and a venomous tone. He cuts his eyes up to her, he's still sitting down and looks like he won't be getting up soon.

“What pisses you off, Weezer?” It's almost cheeky the way he says it, a jab, but when spoken between his teeth she really can't tell.

“Men that call me stupid.” Cut and dry, “what pisses you off, Mad Dog?” He doesn't even look surprised at the name, if anything there's a hint of a smirk pulling at his lips. That bubbling feeling returns in her chest when she sees it.

“Women that offer me white lighters.” 

@causenessus @softpia @renardiererin @kodzu-ken @phoenix-eclipses

@wyrcan @honeekyuu @wakashudou @wolffmaiden @eggyrocks

@yogurtkags @bakery-anon @totallytatum @mollyrolls @crypt-0rchid

@hyunteru @kameyyy @nekozaki @angelichwv @a-girl-cant-decide-on-a-name

@localgaytrainwreck @ggggbabybaby2 @chaloume @kawoala @evilari111

@baylz

[fistfuloflightning]

I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night we met I don't know what I'm supposed to do Haunted by the ghost of you Oh, take me back to the night we met

The Night We Met, Lord Huron

[gojocon-main]

❝ BUT, YOU’RE PREGNANT! ❞ — gojo satoru

mdni, fem!reader, suggestive, 0.8k wc, established relationship, satoru’s pregnant wife who can’t keep her hands off him, teeny tiny bit of exhibitionism (reader palms his bulge in public), failed self-restraint, satomi (selfship) coded cuz we’re both desperate for each other :’)

you’re far along now, and satoru swears that the more your stomach grows with his child, the hornier you get.

he had to keep on his toes around you in order to not get you so worked up. the pregnancy hormones were really getting to you, and you lashed out at him or cried over every little inconvenience. but what he had to be most careful about was the way he touched you.

if his hand lingered a little too long on your waist — the intention wholeheartedly innocent — you’d somehow take that as an invitation to palm his bulge. it’s happened numerous times recently—even in public!

his poor, pregnant wife had no shame nowadays. yeah, he’s done his fair share of groping your ass when others were around, but it was always under a private eye, secret giggles shared between the two of you.

unfortunately, you had picked up the habit of doing it out in the open. he couldn’t count the amount of times people would gawk in horror, all while you continued to browse the baby section, unbothered, as if you hadn’t squeezed his balls like a stress toy in front of dozens of people. maybe you were an exhibitionist?

either way, it was clear your thoughts only consisted of three things as of late: eat, sleep, and fuck.

how could he resolve this? he wanted to cry. this wasn’t fair! why couldn’t you be this thirsty for his cock when you weren’t pregnant? never in his life would he have thought you could out-freak him. and as badly as he wanted to fuck you senseless in return, he had to be gentle—cautious. sex was increasingly dangerous at this stage — according to the doctor after a long night of abusing your needy cunt — and you were driving him to the brink of madness with the way you were acting.

tensions were higher than they’ve ever been, neither of you speaking or acting on it. however, things came to ahead one morning while he was leaving for work. like usual, he stood by the door in his suit, prepared to head out after your usual once-over. it was a domestic routine he looked forward to every morning despite him whining in your ear about how he was going to be late, watching you softly as you “fix” his collar for the millionth time.

satoru wasn’t stupid. he could tell you were stalling for more time with him, not-so discreetly using it as an excuse to touch him. and don’t think he doesn’t notice how you’re practically sniffing him like an animal in heat. he knew just how much you loved the scent of his cologne, and it was as if you couldn’t help yourself around him when you caught a whiff of it.

now, here’s the part where he may have messed up. after your initial aggressive arousal towards him — plus with the advice the doctor gave him on the down low — he made sure to no longer kiss you on the lips in your current state, and instead, opted for your cheek. when you hand him his lunch, he leans himself down to your height, lips puckered to plant a chaste peck on your soft skin.

though, what he hadn’t expected was for you to outmaneuver him, slapping both hands on the sides of his head, tugging him close to the point that he stumbles as you begin to utterly ravish his mouth.

“mff—!”, satoru sputters in protest against your lips, eyes wide open in shock. his lunch slips from his hand, the bag falling to the ground with a thud. shaky hands hover over your waist, your protruding stomach pressing against his hard abdomen as move against him as sensually as you can.

he doesn’t touch you back just yet, but you force him to. gripping his wrists, you bring his large hands up to palm your round, tender breasts that swelled throughout these past few months. your soft, cherry-flavored lips moved against his in desperation, and he finally responds back, moaning into your mouth with just as much fervor, squeezing the plump flush of your soft tits. the whimper you let out to the massage sends a shudder down his spine and goes straight to his cock.

you pull back, and he finds himself chasing after your lips until you plant a firm hand on his chest. his breathing is ragged, pupils dilated as satoru stares down at you through his blindfold. he takes in the sight of your kiss-swollen lips and furrowed brows, certain he appeared just as flustered.

before he can utter a word, you gaze up at him through your lashes, a cheeky glint in your eyes that he knows all too well.

“stay.” you pout, and he almost finds the willpower left in him to say no—

“please?”

you didn’t have to ask him twice.

[tonycries]

I'm A BIG Stepper!

Synopsis. Too big? There’s no such thing as “too big”.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, saying it’s “too big”, FÉRAL boys, spítting, chokíng, them being big like REALLY big, cúmplay, oraI (male + fem), Choso’s rings, breéding, víbrators, creampíe, again - REALLY big, kinda mean Choso hehe, true form! Sukuna, dp, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.7k

A/N. When you accidentally choose “thought daughter” and half your synopses are questions WHOOPS.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - “That? M’bigger.”

“Yer killin’ me, doll.” Toji huffs out in ragged jealousy at those slow, sultry noises. “Look at you- just look at how she’s just begging f’me.”

Such cute lil’ whines leave your pretty lips as he works your puffy cunt open with that hot pink vibrator of yours. Soaked, thick - customized to the exact measurements of the achingly hard cock sat between his legs right now.

“B-but-” you gasp, eyeing down at the way your puffy folds were bulging around the toy. “S’barely even ngh- all the way in, Toji.”

“So?” he rolls his eyes. And Toji knows he’s being ridiculous, he knows it’s for his own good to stretch out your gummy walls so that you can take his massive size. But all it takes is another hard caress of that buzzing length against your poor g-spot for him to snap.

Eyes becoming crazed when your jaw falls slack, back arching up like such a slut up against his hard abs as you squeal, “Toji! Oh my god m’close—”

Close? 

Suddenly, Toji can’t take it anymore - he needs to feel you wrapped around himself. 

Now. 

“M’gonna- wait what- ngh!” You’re batting your dewy eyes up at him when he drags the vibrator out with a loud squelch! All at once. Still reeling from disappointment, “Baby, why’d you-”

“Because.” he interrupts, and you keen when you feel the urgent throb! of Toji’s fat tip kissing at your swollen folds. Red and angry, leaking thick precum over your pussy lips in a pretty gloss. So mesmerizing that you almost miss the familiar flex of his thighs, the way his dark brows furrow in concentration. “-this pussy of yours says s’time for the real deal.”

It’s all that’s said before he’s suddenly dipping his girthy head just barely past your first ring of resistance. Difficult.  

“Relax.” he hisses. Pushing in lingering, determined little grinds past each clench, still easy - still patient. For now. “Breathe f’me. Breathe f’me come on, She can do hah- do it, right, my girl?”

Shit, a part of him thinks he should’ve almost waited longer with the vibrator. Because Toji knows he’s big. He knows your cunt is so tight so heavenly he might just pass out right now. Until- 

“Hngh! Toji!” you scramble onto your elbows when you feel his fat head finally bullies past to brush up against your hidden sweet spots. That little divot squeezing past to mark your walls inside. “You promised you’d hah- last longer with the oh vibrator tonight.”

Honestly, a part of Toji was impressed you were still able to form coherent sentences with the way you were being split apart on his monster cock. 

He leans down to nuzzle your neck, “Awww, did I?” Hiking your limp legs further and further up his broad shoulders where he had you folded in half. “I don’t remember, maybe your pussy was jus’ c-calling t’me.”

“You- you liar!” you cry out, and he can’t help but grow impossibly harder. Fighting off that dangerous, feral part of himself that just wants to ram into you like some animal already. Because oh how he loved when you act like you weren’t bucking up mindlessly into the smooth staccato of his hips as he eases his way in.  “Hngh- fuck you jus’ got- oh!”

The stretch - fuck the stretch. You never got used to it, no matter how many times he used that damn vibrator on you. Pushing you to your limits. It’s like he was nudging at your lungs already.

“F-fuuuck-” you can’t hold back your desperate moans, nails dragging reg marks down his biceps almost the size of your head. “Are you- ngh are you at least halfway in, Toji?”

“Nope.” he hums smugly, popping the p. “Though…”

And in a split second, he’s sitting up, with you splayed out so prettily on his fat length. Lips quirking into a mean little grin when two big arms of his help gravity pull you down, down, down onto his thick cock. Inch by fucking inch. 

Turning his head to lick a long, languid stripe up his wrist. Groaning at the sweet sweet taste of your juices forming a sheen on his skin from the little “preparation” before. And fuck you think you feel him grow thicker - angry veins pulsing against every nook and cranny of your cunt. 

Full. So full - and he wasn’t even all the way in yet. 

“Oh- oh my god- fuck you’re so deep.” you mewl, body jolting with the inability to decide between wanting to run away or slam your hips down for more. 

Toji notices - of course, he does - it was always like this, a few tears, a few whines, a few strokes with that pathetic “replica” of his swollen cock to stretch you out. He splays a hand out over your lower stomach, pressing down. Hard. Twitching wildly at that familiar bulge inside you, “M’so much deeper than that stupid toy.” 

It’s all you can do to whimper, strained and utterly fucked out already. “Wh-what?”

“Heh, ya wanna know a secret, doll?” He’s leaning down to chuckle darkly in your ear - sending shivers down your neck, your arched spine, all the way to where he gives harsh thrust. Calculated. Once. Twice. 

This time, not stopping until he was bottoming out. 

Your puffy folds meeting his pelvis in a lewd kiss, his heavy balls smacking against your ass, thick cock settled deep - right where Toji’s been dying to be all night. Toji coos at the way your poor cunt was stuttering and bulging with the greedy effort to take him. 

He plants a sloppy kiss right on your lips, “That vibrator’s made smaller than me.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Gentleman.

Now, Nanami Kento has always been told he looked like a gentleman - everything from his neatly styled hair, to his perfect suits, to the stern reading glasses always at his nose. Nanami Kento was a gentleman - both inside and out. 

Well, except for that massive cock he hid away behind dapper dress pants, of course. 

The one that always got so girthy and angry at the mere thought of not being stuffed inside your pretty pussy. The one that was currently beading hot precum at your pussy lips, forming a lewd little pool from where he was spooning you from behind. 

The perfect remedy after a long, hard day at work - you, his cute lil’ wife. 

“Bad day?” you whisper over your shoulder, Nanami’s nods coming out in feverish little puffs against your heated skin. “Then, I want you to put it in, Ken. All of it, don’ wanna waste time on preparation.”

And Nanami was never one to deny his wife - never one to doubt anything you wanted. But at this very moment, he’s loosening that speckled yellow tie he didn’t have the patience - nor the sanity to remove. Sliding the divot on his fat tip across your clit with a hushed, “Can’t, my love. I promised to not overwork you.”

You huff, “S’not overworking- just ngh- Ken-”

“Don’t.” he warns, hips rutting up lewdly at the mere sound of your voice. Sliding the mess of his glisteningly swollen cock right between your puffy folds. “Fuck- don’t. Jus’ had a bad day n’ this naughty pussy’s gonna make me lose control, darling. Have you calling out of work tomorrow.” He kisses down your neck left hand snaking down to give your cunt a gentle smack! The cool band of his wedding ring burning against your clit, “S’that really what you want?”

And it was meant to be a question to himself more than anything, really. A reminder that you weren’t even prepared yet - not stretched and teased to his heart’s content like usual. A reminder to fucking reel his sanity back before he breaks you. 

But, alas, maybe you’re a genius - maybe you’re just stupid. Because you whine stubbornly, “Well, I hear it’s the best solution for a bad day, so why don’t you?”

In an instant, that’s all it takes for your leg to be stretched up in the air. The cozy bedroom chill hitting your bare cunt - only for a split-second, before Nanami’s achy tip is filling you up. Everywhere. Anywhere. 

“Hold onto this.” his free hand presses his tie onto your shaky one, hip still pushing. Still rutting up in a steady pressure on your snug cunt. “Pull on it if m’going too rough- fuck- fuckin’ choke me I don’t care. Jus’ let me know because from now on…” he trails off dangerously. 

But you’re not left to wonder what the end of his sentence will gift you. No, because you feel it. 

He’s pushing in - nothing like the slow, languid strokes you were used to. No, barely even giving you the time to adjust while your husband just keeps pressing and pressing and-

“Ah! Ken!” you involuntarily tug on his tie when his sensitive slit massages at those syrupy sweet spots insides. “You’re so deep- fuck just fuck me how you want to.”

Nanami’s head feels light, vision getting spottier with each heaving breath he’s taking - maybe from your tightening grip around his tie, maybe from the way you’re squeezing him so fucking tight. But it takes him a few seconds to pull himself together enough to grit out, “Fuck- I want to. Oh, how I want to.” As if to confirm his statement, he’s thumbing apart your sopping slit, groaning at the sight of you drooling eagerly down his cock. “But you’re so fuckin’ tight I can’t ngh- s’this how you feel- fuck! I think m’gonna hafta take y’like this all the time, my love.”

Each word has him speeding up in jagged little pistons. Feeling so mean with the way he was bullying those cute moans out of you. 

“I don’t care- ngh-” you babble, when his fingers roll over your clit. Squirming your hips down to meet his, trying to press up against those neat tufts of blond at his hilt. “-just want you all inside me.”

Shaping your cunt to this shape of him, losing his breath with each and every dense push inside your sloppy entrance. Still stuck not even halfway in yet - but you feel like you’re losing your goddamn mind. 

“You’re so fuckin’ hah- hold on.” And then, your beloved Nanami pushes your leg up even further, craning his neck over to spit. A steady, sinful stream of saliva right onto the bulging mound of where he was sheeting himself in your pussy. Circling your clit, he hums in satisfaction at the mess he’s made, “Now I can ruin you exactly how I want.”

You open up so pliant for him, massaging every bump and ridge along his long, long length while you let him skim past. Being split open so well. So maddeningly. 

Like you wanted to be ruined. 

And just the thought of it is enough to push Nanami over the edge of his sanity - and to push the entirety of his raw, needy cock inside your tight pussy. Finally. Finally bottoming out.

“Ngh- shit-” he lets out a long breath, sharp canines puncturing at the sensitive skin on your neck. Hips stuttering and getting sloppy with each jittery push deeper inside. Even when Nanami feels your hips fucking back into his to meet the brick wall of his toned abs. His twitching balls sensitive against your ass. “Now, lemme tell ya how how it’s been a-” Just slamming his hips into yours, a ruthless depraved cadence. Fingers ruthless on your clit. “-long fuckin’ day without you.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Till m’stupid!

“P-please!” you try - and fail - to pull off his need mouth from your poor, overstimulated cunt. Fingers clasping desperately onto his long, inky hair. “I jus’ wan’ you in me- hah-”

It’s around your fourth orgasm that night when you’re finally crying out in surrender, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks with each high, legs spasming and trying to run away from Geto Suguru’s mean mouth. Your breath catching in your chest when he only hums around your ravaged clit in answer. 

“I dunno, gorgeous.” Geto teases, sloppy tongue darting around your pulsing hole. Stretching. Lapping up each and every drop of your syrupy cunt. “Don’ think she’s ready to take me, yet.”

Fuck, you knew what that meant. 

You knew that meant another few sweet rolls of Geto’s tongue against your clit, another few bullying praises spat into your sensitive cunt while he dragged you through another high - another orgasm that wasn’t on his swollen cock. 

And despite how much you loved the way your boyfriend teased and toyed your needy cunt with his mouth - you needed more. 

So you tug once again on his dark locks, tongue getting loose with delirium, “You’re so mean, Sugu. So what if I j-jus’ wan’ your cock.”

Oh how he loved to have you begging.

At this, his glassy eyes meet yours right from where Geto was still making out with your pretty pussy in a slow, languid kiss. The squelches and suckles ringing in your ears over your own words. His brow quirks, already with the nickname, huh? Interesting. 

“Can’t cum a-as good if it’s not on your cock.” you plow on. Oh, now it’s flattery? How cute. You manage to sputter out while your words don’t even slow him down, “And! And if you don’t-” Ah, Geto muses, this one’s probably the threat. What will it be? Last time it was making him do all the dishes. The time before that it was buying you that handbag you really loved- “-m’gonna go on a sex ban!”

Oh. 

Oh fuck. 

Now, if there’s one thing you know to never threaten Geto Suguru with, it’s a sex ban. But, alas, desperate times call for desperate measures. 

So here he was - face wrenching away from the honeypot of your sweet cunt like it hurt to leave. Eyes wide as he scrambles to meet you, your slick glistening down his gaping lips, his burning cheeks - fuck, he’s never looked prettier. 

“My baby…” Geto purrs into your ear, coming up to graze his lips against your in a messy crash of teeth and tongue. “Gorgeous, you never thought I’d be serious- right? Hah- sex ban my ass. You’re funny, real fucking funny.” But for all how confident he was, Geto was soothing out his words with the slightest tremor. Hastily sliding his furiously leaking tip between your sopping slit. Up and down up and down up and- “-cuz who said I could live another second without being in this cute pussy?”

As if to prove his point, Geto’s sliding his fat head past your puffy folds, stretching out your entrance so taut around his thick cock. 

A big hand of his finds its way onto the small of your waist, and in a split-second Geto has your position flipped so that he’s splayed out on the mattress instead. Your limp body now toppling precariously where you were sat on his swollen cock. 

“Oh.” his pretty mouth falls slack when his hazy eyes lock down at where the two of you were connected. Your pussy lips spread and sucking him up so well. He marvels, “Oh shit look at you. You always take it so well when you’re cockdrunk like this.”

And it’s true - Geto could barely feel that familiar little resistance of muscle. Instead, you’re letting his vein poke at your cunt welcomingly. Bullying himself inside.

You’re keening when an experimental thrust has Geto plunging in even deeper, throbbing veins massaging every nook and cranny of your gummy walls. You could feel him everywhere. And it’s like he could see the strain to take him. To milk him even greedier. 

“S-Sugu-”

“Shhh, this is what y’wanted, right?” he’s breathing, strained - like he’s at the end of his sanity with each inch you’re bouncing down his length. “To be fucked on my cock? No matter how big?”

You don’t even have the ability to respond at this point - just the way he liked it. That smart mouth of yours too drunk to think of anything other than him. To only whine when he pools your salty tears on his tongue, murmuring into your skin, “Now now, ‘nough with the cryin’ hah- you wanted to be fucked stupid- n’that’s exactly what m’gonna do.”

Ah, he loved this part. 

Loved how all those previous orgasms were crashing together to render you barely lucid when he’s shoving his entire cock up into your slutty hole. Glossy lips trembling when he hits the back of your cunt- already? Shit, that last orgasm must’ve hit you harder than he thought. 

That slightly upwards curve of his dick was driving you wild now buried to his hilt. And only shoving himself deeper with each grind that Geto was bucking up to. Until his heavy balls rested behind your ass, neat black happy trail rubbing up against your skin. Until it was impossible to go any deeper.

Your drunken eyes are snapping up in surprise when feeling him grow even thicker inside you, the rough girth shaping out your sloppy hole. He rasps out a chuckle, “Wonder how loose you’ll be after a fifth one, hm?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Make him break!

Now, Choso knew your dirty lil’ tricks, he knew not to trust that sultry curl of your lips when you called out to him. That dangerous little glint in your eyes when you begged him to go deeper, one he almost misses with the way your heavenly cunt was trying to suck him up greedily. Almost. 

Always playing with his sanity. 

Always asking for more. 

“But, baby.” he whines, pressing a concerned little peck to that adorable pout on your lips. Breath catching in his chest when you tug stubbornly on his bottom lip. “I don’t wanna- hah- don’ wanna hurt you, y’know?”

In response, you’re only wrapping your legs around his toned waist tighter, sure to leave sinful little marks at those dimples at the bottom of his spine. “I know what I want- n’ what I want is-” your elastic walls squeeze around his girth. Hard. “-more.”

Choso can’t help but let out a slow, hoarse drag of your name. Dark strands of his hair sticking to his forehead when he throws his head back, hips grinding down, down, down-

“Hah! You- oh-” his hazy eyes are flying open when he realizes he’s playing right into your evil hands. Biting his sharp canines down on your pulse - a little warning. “You know what happens when I go all the way, baby. M’not gonna fit- m’gonna lose control. M’gonna-”

“Please?” you hum sweetly.

He was about halfway in now - mouth watering at the way your pussy was spread open so shamefully for him. Already bulging and leaking onto the drenched silky sheets below with the struggle to take him - and you wanted more? 

“Tha’s right.” you hum, and it takes his saturated mind a second to realize he said that out loud. And even longer to blink up and meet your hungry gaze, “I want more, Cho.”

Fuck, and it was so unfair. Maybe it’s the nickname, maybe it’s the way you buck your hips up sloppily, lewd squelches ringing in his ear when you bully his swollen cock just an inch more. 

Maybe it’s just you. .

But that’s all it takes for him to gasp, eyes snapping wider - crazed even - hips stuttering so messily forwards before-

“Fuck, you’re such a little slut, baby.” And before you know it, Choso’s ramming his hips forwards. Letting the loud smack of skin-on-skin sound across the heady air, bruising. Painful, even. “Such a greedy little bitch-” Watching his throbbing length disappear, he’s sure it’ll leave marks - his heavy balls on your ass, toned pelvis against your thighs, fat cockhead hitting at your cervix. “-N’ s’what you’re gonna be treated like.”

It only takes one kiss of Choso’s leaky tip right against the bottom of your snug pussy before he’s cumming and cumming so hard you can almost feel him twitch at your lungs.

Not waiting for you to adjust, not even waiting for his high to bate. no, don’t make him laugh. Just spearing you on his long length, barely even easing your poor, quivering cunt into it before he’s fucking you into the mattress. 

Fully bottomed out now - exactly as you knew would happen.

“No- no no no hold on.” Choso holds both your thrashing legs still with one of his, pushing past that feeble resistance while he finds his rhythm at your gaping hole. “This is- hah-” he groans, voice shot over your wrecked ah! ah! ah! Plunging inside you like he was molding your pliant walls to his shape. “Told you m’gonna break ngh-”

He was massive already - barely even managing to squeeze past and massage your dripping cunt. But oh the sweet overfill of his seed had you keening, scrambling to grab onto the sheets, the headboard, his shoulders to keep even an ounce of your sanity.

“Ngh- fuck!” you whine at the feeling of rope after rope of his thick cum sloshing around inside your plush walls. His veins throb! throb! throbbing! against your sensitive spots to make such a mess of you below. “Fuck- jus’ like that, Cho- keep- hah- keep goin’”

And you didn’t even have to ask. As expected, your boyfriend’s brows after knitting together, pushing your legs so far apart it burned. Abs flexing as his hips moved in jagged, desperate pistons to massage your gummy walls. 

This was what you wanted so badly - the way he always breaks like this.

Always. 

“Y’asked for more n’ you’re gonna get it.” his voice stutters, cracking ever so slightly with each smash into that spongy bundle of nerves. “More- hah!” Letting out a humorless, almost-shrill laugh, “You knew this would happen, huh?”

You’re just batting your lashes deceivingly innocently, pressing a honeyed peck to Choso’s snarl, “I highly hah- doubt-”

“Look at you.” he spits at your bumbling retort, “Can���t even speak.” Two thick fingers coming up to circle the thick globs of seed pooled at your ravaged clit, purposefully grazing against the sensitive nub. “Fuckin’ wanted more and you’re gonna- get it.”

Slamming into you fast. Out of control. 

You open your mouth - no doubt to spit out some other taunt - but before the words leave your lips, he’s shoving his now-sloppy mess of his index and middle finger inside. Forcing the salty taste of his cum spilling out with each thrust, and the cool metal of his thick metal rings. You wanted to break him - and that’s what you’re gonna get. 

“So you hah- better shut up that pretty mouth of yours unless I break the bed again and you along with it”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Twin bitches, twin bitches

“Enough admirin’ me.”  Sukuna chuckles darkly from above you, reaching down to cradle your dazed head with a large, clawed hand of his. “The faster ya get back to doing yer lil’ job, the sooner that pretty cunt can take me.”

And it’s all you can do to heave for air, looking up defiantly at the two massive cocks kissing at your mouth. Barely getting a few breaths in before Sukuna’s hips thrust forwards once again to spear your heavenly mouth one of his swollen lengths. Smirking at the way your glossy lips bulge around him, “Yeah yeah, what? Got somethin’ to say, brat?”

You’re squeezing your soft palm up and down the drenched hilt of his other cock. Managing to gasp out, “I- want you-” Before your mouth is being fucked again like some little fucktoy - by both of them. Over and over. Taunting, “I want- you- now.”

“Now?” And Sukuna sounds genuinely surprised, baring his sharp canines in a shocked grin. “Y’think you can hah- already take me now?” Hissing as he drags your sloppy mouth up and off his sensitive lengths, only to question. “You sure about that?”

This angle gives you the perfect view of his intimidating cocks - massive, painfully hard. Fat tips flushed the same shade of pretty pink, angry and weeping all over your swollen lips. Twin veins throbbing urgently at your hot breath, both swollen lengths twitch so animalistically when you spit. Once. Twice. 

“Heh- you always do surprise me, lil’ human.”

And shit you were goading him into it - toying with him. 

But you didn’t expect that in all of two seconds, Sukuna would be lifting you easily off the ground with two big arms, wrapping your boneless legs around his waist to fit you snugly like a puzzle piece against his muscled body.

“Wh-what-”

“Y’asked, my girl.” he whispers, ragged at what a needy lil’ slut you were being for him right now. His other two free arms aligning both leaky tips at your quivering cunt. “N’ since you’re so fuckin’ spoiled, guess I gotta always hah- give ya what you want, huh?”

“You mean- oh-” It’s right around this time that you can’t think - you can’t even breathe. Can’t do anything but surrender to the two massive lengths bullying past your stretchy ring of muscle. Molding the entrance of your cunt to the shape of his cocks.

“Mmm fuck m’never gonna get tired of this stretch.” he’s groaning throatily, humming with each little half-thrust inside you. Just barely a push and pull. “So wet n- how the fuck hah- are you this tight?”

You scoff, mouth sharp even when it feels like he’s splitting you in half, “I can think of ngh- t-two reasons.”

And then Sukuna has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh - laugh - loud and baritone, the force of his chest rumbling having you slipping deeper and deeper down his massive cock. Losing your barely-there footing with each inch he’s feeding into your needy cunt. 

You sputter, “Ngh- f-fuck you’re in so deep.”

“F-f-fuck you’re in so deep.” Sukuna mimics your moans in a pitch much higher than his own. Giving the fat of your ass a sharp smack! as he massages your way down. “M’not even hah- halfway in yet so ya better buckle up, brat.” 

And it was true - he was still pushing in desperate, purposeful ruts upwards of his hips. Short strokes that you’d never have the king of curses do - unless he was feeling particularly nice. 

Your legs dangle in midair, nails digging into his tan skin with each smack of his heavy set balls with each movement, leaving a smear of precum and spit. Sliding you down so much easier than he thought it would. Down, down, down…

“Ya feel me in here?” you’re gasping at the pressure of one of his sharp nails. Dangerous. Trailing down, down, down to draw an imaginary line on your stomach. One. And another one not too long aways, “And here?” At your cockdrunk little nod, he smiles - dark and wild. “Use your words if you ah- want what’s comin’.”

He feels you milk his cocks even harder at that, like you’re trying to drag out something delicious when you squeal, “Can feel you- can’t feel anything but you-”

The tip of his thick finger dances higher and higher. And he gruffs out, “Well, soon enough m’gonna be- hah here!”

That deep promise is all that runs through your oversaturated mind before Sukuna’s ramming into you - no mercy. Just shoving you down his throbbing cock until he could see them bulge outwards from your supple skin, leaving a lewd little mark right where he predicted it would be. 

Bullseye. 

“Oh fuuuuck, so nice n’ tight f’me.” Sukuna whimpers - he whimpers. Fuck, the feeling of your walls trying desperately to take shape to his cocks so addictive. So dizzying the way he can feel himself rubbing against one another, bulbous veins throbbing in time to an erratic staccato. “So nice and- and-” he’s losing his words now, slurring with each languid half-thrust up into your cervix. “-mine.”

The word seemed to have made something so feral and dark poke its head out of Sukuna’s exterior. Because then he’s dragging you sloppy cunt like he owned her, all the way from his weeping tips down until your clit was scratching against those tufts of pink at his hilt. 

Slamming into you promisingly until you see stars, until you’re cumming. Electricity running through your veins just at the feeling of being so full. 

Fucking you through your high, Sukuna only taunts, “Now this is where the real fun starts.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - NO CONTROL

“Why the- why the fuck-” your gasp is drowned out by the sharp rip! of fabric echoing across your boyfriend’s luxurious childhood bedroom. Pieces of your poor panties currently laying in tatters on its hardwood floor, “-do they make these things so easy access?”

As if they could be anything but easy access. 

Not with the way Gojo had you bent over the nearest desk he could find, your wrists pinned, skirt bunched up, cunt slobbering and already struggling around where he was just dipping his fat head inside. 

Yet, you still manage to hiss over your shoulder, “If- if it’s so ‘easy access’ then why the fuck did you hah- rip it, you fool?”

But ah you should’ve known better than to give Gojo Satoru one of your glares. Because that along with your honeyed insults have him twitching ferally inside you, the curve of his cock jolting perfectly against your hidden sweet spot. Of course. 

“Because.” he gives you a sly chuckle, the very tip of his aching cock dragging along your gummy walls. “You should know this by now.” Nipping at the shell of your ear, “M’so big that even those panties are a problem, sweetheart.”

And oh the smug bastard, he’s pushing into your heavenly cunt in languid grinds. Savoring. Hypnotic. 

You’re gasping when one of his calculated thrusts mashes against your sensitive areas, the slow push and pull having your nails almost digging into the wooden desk. Scrambling onto your very tip-toes to glide your gummy walls against his thick length.

“Toru…” you moan, hissing in warning. “Y-you better be quiet or else your hah- your parents are gonna hear us.”

“Hah! Me? Me?” he cackles, drinking in your bleary gaze, the way your mouth was falling slack with each tempo of his hips. “Think you should be more ngh- worried about yourself, sweetheart.” He’s pressing a hot mess of a kiss one your swollen lips, your shoulders. Down, down, down wherever he could reach down your arched spine, “Besides. We’ll be s-sneaky, m’jus’ puttin’ in the-”

And perhaps for the first time in his life, the great Gojo Satoru is utterly speechless. Words catching in his chest at the sinful sight right below him. 

Your legs spread, shaking. Inner thighs smeared with the glossy sheen of the mess he’s making of your poor cunt. And you pussy- oh fuck, your pussy. With your puffy folds spread, bulging even with the effort to take it just past his fat head. Quivering and struggling with each experimental grind. 

Fuck, it was hard to look at it, too. It made him throb so painfully - it made him grow bigger. 

“Ngh! What the fuck-” you spit at the feeling of that familiar burn, your syrupy walls being stretched to their absolute limits. 

“Shhh shhh- change of plans, sweetheart.” Is all Gojo grunts in response, bending his long, long legs at the knees to bully himself inside easier. Two big arms wrapping around your middle, reaching over to give your clit a determined swivel of his fingers. “M’gonna go about- halfway? Yeah, halfway.”

And yet, he sounds unsure himself. Voice just a pitch higher, breathy, like he was losing more and more of his sanity with each little half-thrust he’s gifting your poor cunt with. 

Just quick, methodical little kisses of his hips to yours, heavy balls smacking against your thighs with each inch your greedy cunt is swallowing up. Milking the absolute fucking soul out of him.

“F-fuck!” you keen when that thick vein of his down the middle massages your good spot. The adorable sound making Gojo’s eyes light up, smirking as he hikes his knee up higher to piston deep into your dripping pussy. Heady with the squelches from below. “Th-this is hah more than- half Toru-”

Fuck, was it? 

Gojo hadn’t even noticed - too drunk on the way you were squeezing his poor, overworked cock so tight. Until it was almost difficult to plunge into your dripping cunt - to split you apart on it exactly the way he wanted. 

But, well, now that he was taking a long, hard look - he was just a bit more than halfway through. Brows raising in delight at the way your hips are pushing back in mindless little swivels for more. 

“Then, I guess-” he trails off, two large hands of his coming to rest at your waist. A disappointed whine rips from the back of your throat when his ruthless hips slow down to a still, pulsing with anticipation. “-might as well finish the job.”

“Oh- what- you fuckin’-” The rest of your sentence is swallowed up in the way he rolls his hips forwards - fully. Inch by fucking inch. Catching in your ring of resistance less than all the way through, but still pushing. Still rutting forwards so animalistically. “Toru—” You whine at the stretch, the pure dizzying feeling of him shaping your cunt to the thick girth of his swollen cock. “S’too big- I can’t ngh-”

Pretty pink lips shut up your babbling mouth, murmuring deeply, “No no no no- no you can take it- you can oh.” Long, slender fingers coming up to roll against your poor clit, loosening your feeble reisstance, “Look at the- fuck jus’ look at the way you want me.” And you’re barely registering the hand smushing your cheeks together in an embarrassing pout, forcing you to look down at the steady, lazy torture of him splitting you apart on his massive cock. “This isn’t even fuck- me. Look at how you’re fucking back. How you want me so badly.”

And, usually, you’d snap at Gojo - tell him he’s too cocky for his own good. 

But it was true. 

You were meeting his sloppy, untimed bounced halfway through. Helping yourself be fucked into that expensive desk. And he’s pushing - so persistent. 

So utterly wrecked when his leaky tip nudges against your spongy cervix, stars behind his eyes when his heavy balls smack your thighs. Unstopping - not until your ass was settled snugly against those tufts of white at his base. Finally, all the way in.

Through it all, he manages to rasp out, “Hey, did ya know the walls in his house are soundproofed?”

“...”

“So why don’t we go a proper round, sweetheart? Or five?”

A/N. I did NOT expect these to get so long but yk what I’m not upset.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[reignpage]

College student!Sukuna

21:47pm: his dirty secret

Warnings: 18+ mdni, panty stealing, panty sniffing, masturbation, dubcon, yandere themes

college student!sukuna is infamous around campus. every girls’ wet dream and every man’s competition. he just so happens to run in the same circle as you; close friends with a friend of a friend, you can’t help but see him everywhere. 

college student!sukuna is a huge guy, with hulking muscles, tattoos that peek from his torso, and bright pink hair. you could never miss him. no one could. not with his shit-eating grin or deep laugh that always makes you feel like he knows something no one else does. 

you and him are kind of friends. once in a while, when gojo says something stupid or toji inevitably picks a fight with some random guy, you find yourself sharing a knowing look with college student!sukuna , who flashes you a grin that sends shivers down your spine. 

college student!sukuna is touchy as hell. he brushes past you with a hand on your waist and a pat on your hip. he leans in close, breath warm against your cheek, as his lips graze your ears in a whisper, a snarky comment about how the guy you’re talking to has a small dick so don’t waste your time with that loser. 

and although college student!sukuna is known as a ladies’ man and there doesn’t seem to be a single girl on campus who hasn’t fucked him, you never actually see him with a broad. doesn’t bring a date to gojo’s party, not a single mention of his latest fuck when the guys are bragging, and he certainly doesn’t seem to notice the hoard of girls begging for his attention. 

no, college student!sukuna only has eyes on you. he watches the way you sway your hips to the shitty techno music, how your hair flips with every twist and turn, and sees the flutter of your eyes when you meet his gaze through the thick crowd of gyrating bodies. 

it’s only recently that you started to let yourself feel something for college student!sukuna . before that, you chalked up the lingering stares and heated sweeps down your body as alcohol induced lust. but now, you allow yourself to entertain the idea that the pink haired man might actually like you. 

college student!sukuna does. he doesn’t want to cave first; his ego can’t take the hit, is what he tells his dumbass best friend, toji. the real truth is that he doesn’t want to be rejected. not when you’re the only girl who laughs at his jokes and knows that he never means the cranky and sarcastic comments. 

especially not when you’re the girl he envisions every time he needs to cum. he wraps his big hand around his even bigger dick and strokes it to the pace he thinks you’ll use against him when he finally brings you to your knees. when he strokes his tip, thumb running across the slit, he thinks of your plump lips wrapping around his head, stretching to fit as much of him as you can. 

when he shudders through an orgasm, he imagines you sticking your tongue out as he spurts all over your face, the pearly white droplets painting your skin, and it has him groaning into his fist to keep quiet, lest you find out he’s snuck into your room when the whole gang had come over to celebrate your roommate/best friend, shoko’s, birthday. 

college student!sukuna doesn’t know what he’d do if you burst into your room and stumbled upon him with the hem of his shirt tucked between his teeth, jeans unzipped, one hand wrapped around his dick and the other holding your dirty panty to his nose. 

hell, maybe you’d like it. maybe it’ll make you soak the ones currently between your legs. perhaps you’re just as dirty as he is, just as deprived and desperate. but he’ll have to find out another day, because you’re all in the living room dimming the lights and setting the cake down. 

so college student!sukuna settles for the fantasy of you and he pockets the soiled fabric, and another from the laundry basket for good measure, saving the thrill for another lonely night wishing his fist was your pussy. 

[mssalo]

fixation

You have an oral fixation, and Joel is more than happy to keep your mouth busy.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, oral fixation (f!reader), oral (male receiving), finger-sucking, dirty talk, praise kink, established relationship, consensual dynamic, playful possessiveness, casual intimacy, semi-public setting, reader can’t keep her mouth off of Joel’s cock (I get it) 6k.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

It had been about 11 months since you and Joel started seeing each other, and every day with him felt like a quiet discovery, learning things about each other that made each moment feel richer.

But there was something you hadn’t quite figured out how to bring up yet—a part of you that you weren’t sure how he’d respond to. Yet, in his presence, the need always seemed to flare up, subtle but persistent, tugging at you like a habit you couldn’t quite ignore.

One evening, you were curled up together on his couch, the night warm and quiet, and you’d been a little fidgety, your mind distracted, wondering if he’d picked up on your subtle hints.

His hand rested easily on your thigh, his thumb tracing soft, absent-minded circles over your jeans, grounding you in the moment.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle, breaking the comfortable silence as he glanced over at you, his eyes soft but observant.

“You’ve been a little… antsy tonight.” He tilted his head, watching you carefully with that warm, reassuring smile of his. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, huh?”

You bit your lip, your cheeks heating up as you avoided his gaze, feeling that familiar warmth creeping in, making you both nervous and a little thrilled.

His hand squeezed your thigh just slightly, his fingers gentle, urging you to look up.

“Baby,” he said, his voice a mix of patience and curiosity, “you know you can tell me anything, right? If there’s somethin’ you want, or… need?”

He trailed off, his gaze lingering on your mouth, a knowing smile beginning to form.

You swallowed, feeling the warmth in your face intensify as his words sank in, and finally, you gave him a small nod, glancing up at him shyly.

Your lips parted slightly, but the words felt stuck, tangled up in the way he was looking at you, his gaze warm and inviting.

A quiet laugh slipped past his lips as he brushed a thumb over your bottom lip, his voice dropping to that rough, soft tone that always seemed to send a shiver through you.

“Got a feeling I know what’s been on your mind,” he murmured, his hand moving up to cradle your cheek as he leaned in closer.

“You got a little fixation, don’t ya?” he whispered, his tone playful but warm, his eyes glinting with quiet confidence.

Your heart raced, and you gave a small, embarrassed nod, your gaze dropping to his chest as you felt the words tumble out in a near whisper.

“I… I just like having… something to keep me busy,” you admitted, your voice soft, almost shy.

Still brushing his thumb over your bottom lip, his eyes sparking with that familiar glint.

“Need somethin’ to keep that pretty mouth busy, huh?” he murmured, his voice soft and rough as his thumb lingered, his hand steady on your face.

“Should’ve known,” he said with a grin, his gaze dropping down to your mouth. “Come here.”

His hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer with a gentle yet confident touch.

As you leaned in, you saw the soft amusement in his eyes, the way his expression held a subtle, reassuring warmth.

You parted your lips, shy but eager, letting his thumb slip between them, and he watched, his gaze intense but filled with that easy confidence that always seemed to make you feel safe with him.

"That’s it, baby," he murmured, his thumb brushing against your tongue as he watched, clearly enjoying your reaction.

"Didn’t need to be shy about it… any time you need this, you just come to me, alright?"

Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as his thumb brushed your lower lip, his other hand steady on your waist.

It felt like a quiet promise, a comfortable acceptance that brought you even closer, and you felt your lingering hesitation melting away as he held you there, happy to give you exactly what you’d been craving.

“I don’t mind one bit,” he whispered, his thumb still in your mouth, feeling your soft, tentative sucking as he gently pulled you closer.

Joel’s eyes softened, his voice was low, roughened with curiosity and a touch of arousement as he asked, “Is this what’s been on your mind, babygirl? Just my fingers?”

His question lingered in the air, his tone hinting at more as he kept his gaze steady on yours, letting the words sink in.

He watched the way your cheeks flushed deeper, and he let out a quiet chuckle, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth as he murmured, “Or was it somethin’ else you were thinkin’ about?”

Your heart raced, his hint unmistakable, but there was something about the warmth in his gaze and the steady grip of his hand that put you completely at ease.

The words felt caught in your throat, but Joel waited, letting his thumb slip out of your mouth, his hand settling under your chin to lift your gaze to meet his. “I can make sure you get exactly what you need… all you have to do is ask.”

He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head.

His voice softened, a quiet encouragement. “Whatever you want, I’m here, sweet bug.”

Joel’s thumb brushed over your lip again, encouraging as he kept his gaze steady, patient, letting you find the words.

Your cheeks warmed, but the way he was looking at you—reassuring, warm, without a hint of judgment—made it easier to open up.

“I just… feel calmer when I’m, you know, sucking on something,” you began, your voice quiet, a little shy.

“Something solid. It’s like… I like the weight of it in my mouth.” You paused, catching your breath, feeling a mixture of vulnerability and relief as you finally said it out loud. “I don’t know why, but it’s… comforting.”

Joel listened closely, nodding as his thumb traced a gentle line along your jaw. His smile softened, and he murmured, “I figured, pretty one… I could see it.”

He tilted his head, watching you with a look of gentle understanding that helped ease the lingering embarrassment. “Were you embarrassed to tell me?”

You hesitated, giving him a small, shy nod. He chuckled softly, a low, comforting sound that settled any lingering nerves.

“Can’t say I haven’t noticed,” he murmured, his voice low and a little rough, as he looked down at you. “The way you linger, like you can’t let go of my cock once you’ve got your mouth on it… like you’re not quite done with me.”

Your cheeks flushed, and quiet laughs slipped out of the both of you.

He tilted your chin up, his gaze softening, still playful but carrying a deeper warmth. “You like the weight of it, hm?” he asked gently, a thumb tracing the corner of your mouth. “Feels good for you, yeah?”

You gave a small, shy nod, meeting his gaze as your pulse quickened.

He leaned closer, his tone a gentle murmur as he continued, “Darlin’, anytime you need that—anytime you want me, you come to me. I’ll be more than happy to help you calm down.”

With that, he pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, his hand still cradling your face, his words sinking in as he held you there, his touch reassuring, making it clear he was there for you, always.

· · ───𖥸

It had become a quiet ritual between you and Joel ever since that night—one where he was more than happy to help you find comfort whenever you needed it.

At first, it was just his fingers. When you’d feel the day’s tension creeping up, he’d let you settle close, slipping his fingers between your lips as he watched you, warm and intent.

The gentle weight, the grounding feel of his hand against your jaw as he let you draw his fingers in, helped you feel calm in a way that words couldn’t quite reach.

Joel noticed it too, the way you’d relax under his touch, how you’d quietly seek him out and never let go until you were completely at ease.

Tonight, though, you found yourself wanting more. It had been a long and hard day, one that left you feeling edgy, and his fingers alone weren’t enough.

As you walked into the living room, you found him on the couch, relaxed with his arm draped across the back, his other hand resting on his thigh.

The sight of him there, so grounded and steady, instantly soothed something in you.

He noticed you right away, his gaze softening as you approached, catching the fidgeting in your hands.

“Hello there, pretty girl,” he greeted, his voice warm, with that touch of curiosity he always had when he knew you needed him. “Need anything?”

You didn’t say anything, instead sinking to your knees in front of him, your gaze falling to his lap before meeting his eyes again.

Joel’s brow lifted slightly, his expression soft but knowing, his lips curling into a small smile as he reached down, fingers brushing over your cheek.

“Had a rough day, huh?” he murmured, his tone low, patient as his hand moved to cradle your jaw.

His thumb traced along your bottom lip, holding you there gently, his eyes darkening with quiet understanding.

“Is this what you’ve been needing?” he asked, his voice a quiet rumble, letting his fingers linger at your lips, already familiar with the comfort it brought you.

But you shook your head slightly, looking up at him with that same shy glance, your gaze flickering down as you hesitated, unsure how to ask for what you really needed.

Joel’s gaze held steady, his thumb brushing over your lip as he read your expression, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Or maybe… you want a little more than that?”

You felt your cheeks flush, but the look in his eyes made the words come easier. You glanced up, giving him a small nod as your hands settled on his knees, silently asking for permission, for more.

Joel’s thumb brushed over your lip, and he chuckled softly, his gaze dropping to meet yours. “Is that what you’ve been needing?” he murmured, his voice low, rich with amusement. “My cock… to make you calm?”

The words sent a thrill through you, and he watched as you nodded, barely able to meet his gaze, your cheeks warm. ”Yes... please,“ you whispered quietly.

Joel tilted his head slightly, his hand guiding your chin so you couldn’t look away.

“No need to be shy with me, darlin’,” he continued, his voice a quiet, steady invitation. “If that’s what you need, I’ll give it to you. Always.”

Joel leaned back slightly, the soft lighting casting shadows across his strong features, highlighting the rugged lines of his face and the warm, steady gleam in his dark eyes.

He watched you closely, his gaze never faltering as you settled in closer, his broad chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths, grounding you with his steady presence.

A subtle smile played at the corner of his mouth as his hand settled over yours, guiding you with a gentle but firm touch.

His fingers brushed your jaw, coaxing you to look up at him as he murmured, “Go ahead, sweetheart… take what you need.”

Your fingers brushed over the outline of his cock, feeling him hardening beneath your touch, his quiet, restrained breaths signaling his anticipation.

His gaze darkened, his eyes holding a mix of warmth and intensity as he watched you, his lips parting slightly as you felt his cock pulse beneath your hand.

“Just like that,” he whispered, his voice deep, a touch of approval in his tone as his other hand cupped the back of your neck, his thumb brushing soft, grounding circles there.

His touch, his steady gaze, everything about him filled you with a quiet confidence as he murmured, “You’re doin’ perfect, darlin’… don’t stop.”

His voice, low and calming, was a quiet invitation, full of the easy confidence that you found so comforting.

“Go on, pretty girl,” he murmured, his eyes holding yours.

You tugged his jeans down just enough, freeing him from the fabric, and your breath hitched as you took him in.

His cock was thick and slightly curved, already hard and flushed with arousal, the tip a deep, needy pink that glistened faintly, inviting. Dark, neatly kept curls surrounded his base, a subtle, masculine scent rising from him, earthy and undeniably him.

His hand moved at the back of your neck, thumb grazing lightly against your skin, steadying you as you leaned in.

His voice, low and gravelly, sent a shiver through you as he murmured, “My sweet girl... Lookin’ so good with your mouth just inches from me. Can see you want it… don’t hold back.”

His words dripped with quiet command, tinged with that deep warmth that made you feel secure yet set your nerves alight with anticipation.

You opened your mouth, your tongue trailing along the underside of his length, savoring the salty-sweet taste of him.

The heat, the weight of his cock, filled you with a heady calm, grounding you in the sensation. Joel’s hand tightened ever so slightly on your neck, his other hand resting on his thigh, fingers curling as he watched you take him inch by inch.

“That’s my girl,” he groaned, his voice dark and warm, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you.

“Look at you, takin’ all of me like that, slow and easy. Your lips… they look so damn good wrapped around me, sweet one.” His tone was full of approval, deep and rich, letting you know how much he was enjoying this, letting you settle into the moment.

You began to move your mouth over him, letting your tongue swirl around the sensitive head, savoring every ridge and vein.

The faint sheen of your saliva coated him, catching the light, and his cock looked even more inviting, glistening and hard, throbbing slightly in response to your touch.

Joel let out a low, pleased hum, his hand stroking your cheek, encouraging you as you took him deeper.

“God, baby, good job,” he murmured, his tone thick with admiration. “So sweet and focused… like you were made for this.”

His fingers trailed through your hair, gentle but firm, guiding you without any hint of impatience. “Gettin’ every inch, nice and slow… takin’ your time just like I like.”

Your mouth tightened around him, feeling his cock twitch as you took him deeper, letting the weight of him press down on your tongue, grounding you, calming you in a way that nothing else could.

His scent, his warmth, his quiet, filthy praise—everything about this moment soothed you, made you feel safe, yet utterly alive.

“You love how it feels, yeah, baby?” Joel’s voice was a low rasp, and his words spurred you on, made you feel bolder. “The weight of me, how thick I am in that pretty mouth of yours. Tellin’ you, sweetheart… there’s nothin’ I like more than watchin’ you get lost right here.”

You could feel the pulse of his heartbeat through his cock, and it made you shiver.

His hand moved from your hair to your cheek, his thumb brushing softly over the corner of your mouth as he watched you, eyes dark, lips parted in quiet approval.

He tilted his head, studying you with that intense, appreciative gaze that always made you feel seen, adored.

“You keep that mouth workin’ as long as you need, baby,” he murmured, a faint, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “Long as you want, it’s all yours. Just… fuck, yeah, just like that.”

The praise made you feel a rush of warmth, and you took him deeper, letting him feel your eagerness, your need.

His cock pulsed against your tongue, and you savored the feel of him as his fingers stayed steady at your neck, grounding you with his warmth and strength.

“Feelin’ better already?” he asked, his voice gentle, his tone rough with desire.

His hand traced down your jaw, thumb pressing lightly at your lip, pulling it down so he could see himself disappear into your mouth. “Look at that, darlin’... look at you, takin’ me so well. Such a good girl, lettin’ me calm you down just like this.”

You hummed softly around him, the vibration making his fingers tighten slightly on the back of your neck.

His breathing grew deeper, more ragged, but he kept his touch soft, steady, letting you take the lead, letting you have what you needed. “That’s it, baby… don’t rush, just keep me right there. Slow and steady,” he whispered, his voice low and dark, every word soothing yet making your pulse quicken.

His hand stayed firm as he leaned back slightly, allowing you to settle comfortably as you continued to savor him, tasting, exploring, letting his words and his touch fill you with warmth and calm.

Every brush of his thumb, every murmur of approval, grounded you deeper, letting you lose yourself completely in him, in the simple, comforting weight of him on your tongue, a connection that was yours and his alone.

You relaxed deeper, each slow movement of your mouth deliberate, savoring the weight of him, the feel of his thick, flushed cock filling you, grounding you.

Joel’s hand stayed steady at the back of your neck, fingers pressing just enough to let you know he was there, a solid presence holding you close.

“Babygirl, look at you,” he murmured, his voice a husky rasp that made your pulse quicken, each filthy word dripping with pride.

“My perfect little thing, workin’ so hard… always giving it your all. Just needed somethin’ to fill that pretty mouth, didn’t ya?”

His fingers tangled in your hair, a gentle but possessive touch that sent a thrill through you. “That’s what I’m here for, baby. You look so damn good like this, takin’ me slow.”

Your cheeks flushed, feeling yourself sink into his words, every filthy murmur making you crave more, making you want to show him just how much you needed this.

You let your tongue swirl around the head of his cock, tasting him, savoring the salty heat, feeling him twitch under your attention.

He let out a low groan, his other hand moving to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he watched you, dark eyes heavy with desire.

“God, baby, you’re too good at this,” he muttered, voice dipping lower, dripping with arousal.

“So focused, takin’ me so good, like you were made for it. Seein’ those lips stretchin’ around me, so damn eager. Look at you… got me hard as a rock, and you’re takin’ your time, just workin’ every inch.”

His hips shifted, barely a nudge forward, just enough to let you feel his need, but he held back, letting you control the pace.

“Bet you’d stay right here all night if possible,” he chuckled, the sound rich and dirty. “You’d just keep suckin’, hm? Letting that pretty mouth of yours get all messy for me.”

You felt his cock pulse, a heavy, throbbing weight on your tongue as he watched you, his breathing roughening as he sank further into the sensation.

His grip on your neck tightened just slightly, his control slipping as he saw how lost you were, how you kept at it with such gentle, focused attention.

“Love how you’re suckin’ my cock for me, baby… so fuckin’ devoted. Just lettin’ me fill that mouth, takin’ me all the way. It’s like you can’t get enough, huh? Just keepin’ me right there, like you’d never let go.”

His breathing grew heavier, more ragged, and he bit his lip, feeling his own need taking over as he tried to hold back, not wanting to pull you from the calm, submissive state you’d found.

But with each slow, wet stroke of your mouth, each deliberate pull of your lips around him, he felt himself teetering closer to the edge, and a quiet, breathless laugh escaped him as he leaned down, his hand cradling your face.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice thick with both regret and need, “but you’re too damn good… I can’t hold back any longer. I’m gonna cum.”

His thumb pressed against your cheek, feeling the fullness of his cock in your mouth as he whispered, “Hate to take this from you, but I want you to swallow every drop, every bit of me… you’ve earned it, good job.”

He let out a deep, guttural groan as he came, his cock twitching in slow, heavy pulses against your tongue, spilling into your mouth as he held you close, his grip tightening just enough to anchor you, keep you steady as he filled you.

His other hand brushed over your cheek, thumb stroking the corner of your mouth, watching with dark, hooded eyes as you swallowed everything he gave, his voice dropping to a low, possessive murmur.

“God, look at you, darlin’… swallowin’ every fuckin’ drop like the good girl you are. So perfect, so fuckin’ perfect. Just lettin’ me use that sweet mouth, keepin’ me close.” His thumb lingered at your lips, his voice warm, affectionate as he whispered, “You’re exactly where you belong, sweetheart… right here, with me.”

He stayed there, holding you, his voice softening as he praised you, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your cheek, grounding you as you both came down, feeling safe, cherished, and completely at peace in the warmth of his touch.

As you eased back, Joel’s hand remained at the back of your neck, his thumb brushing gentle, soothing circles, and he looked down, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he took in the calm, relaxed look on your face.

You were utterly at peace, your eyes heavy-lidded, a faint, satisfied smile on your lips as you looked up at him, the tension you’d been carrying all day melting away.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice rich with warmth and pride, his hand steady as he helped you rise.

“My perfect girl, you did so well,” he whispered, pulling you up to settle you against his chest, cradling you close as his hands drifted to rub soft circles on your back.

He could feel how completely at ease you were, the deep calm radiating off you as you leaned into him, feeling safe, cherished, like you’d found exactly what you needed.

You let out a quiet, sleepy murmur, snuggling into his warmth, your cheek resting against his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around him.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice soft and full of gratitude, the words barely audible as you let yourself sink into his embrace.

Joel’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle as he held you, one hand moving up to brush through your hair, his fingers gentle, comforting.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

“So calm now… my sweet girl, lettin’ herself relax.” He could see the sleepiness in your eyes, the way your breathing had slowed, your body completely soft in his arms.

He tucked you closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, his hand never stopping its gentle, grounding strokes along your back.

“You can rest now, baby,” he whispered, his tone full of care as he continued to hold you, letting you know he was right there. “You’re safe with me… just close those eyes. I’ve got you.”

You melted further against him, your body fully relaxed, your breathing deep and even, your face tucked against his neck, perfectly content and utterly calm in his embrace.

He felt you drift closer to sleep, your soft breaths warm against his skin, and he tightened his hold, letting you find that final bit of peace, held close and cherished in his arms, exactly where you belonged.

· · ───𖥸

Over time, it became second nature, a quiet ritual between you and Joel.

The comfort you found in each other had only deepened, making those moments when you had him in your mouth feel easy, almost instinctual.

There were mornings when he'd sit on the edge of the bed, tousled hair and a sleepy smirk, and you’d settle between his thighs, taking him slowly as the sun crept through the blinds, warming the room as he murmured sleepy praise, his hand steady in your hair.

Or lazy afternoons, when you'd both wind down on the couch, and he'd reach over, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder, just to let you know he was there, that he understood what you needed.

Sometimes, even in the middle of the night, he'd feel you shift closer, your warm breath against his skin, and he’d know exactly what you needed without a single word exchanged.

He’d guide you under the sheets, his voice a low, sleepy rumble as he whispered, “Go on, darlin’, take what you need,” his tone gentle, reassuring as he let you lose yourself, knowing how much it helped you relax, how much you needed him in those quiet hours.

And then, there were moments just like now—calm and casual, like you were simply sharing another part of your day together.

Joel stood at the stove, his back turned slightly as he tended to a simmering pan, cooking up something simple for dinner before a friend came over.

His shoulders were broad and relaxed, his stance easy, completely at home in his space.

You were on your knees - his hard cock in your mouth, your lips wrapped around him, taking him slowly, almost like an afterthought, as if this were as natural as holding his hand or sharing a quiet drink together.

The kitchen filled with familiar sounds—the soft sizzle of the pan, the clink of the spatula, Joel’s steady breaths mingling with yours.

His free hand occasionally drifted to your hair, brushing over it with gentle fingers, not guiding but simply acknowledging you there.

Every now and then, his hand would graze over your cheek, tracing a soft line along your jaw as he continued to stir the food, keeping his focus on both you and the task in front of him with that calm confidence that made you feel secure.

He glanced down at you with a smirk, his eyes warm with that casual affection, the amusement clear on his face as he took in the sight of you.

“Look at you, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and playful.

“Can’t keep away, even while I’m tryin’ to get dinner on the stove.” He chuckled, running a thumb along your jawline, his tone casual and amused. “But hell, can’t say I mind one bit.”

His hand returned to the pan, stirring with a practiced ease, completely unfazed as you continued to take him deeper, your lips sliding over his length with a slow, familiar rhythm that felt grounding, comforting.

You could feel his cock twitch in your mouth, but his breath remained steady, his voice calm as he casually carried on.

He kept stirring the pan, flipping the food, but you noticed how his fingers tightened on the spatula, his calm demeanor wavering ever so slightly as his eyes lingered on you a moment longer.

His hand drifted back to your hair, gripping a little firmer this time, letting his thumb brush over your cheek as he took in the sight of you, your cheeks hollowing as you pulled him in deeper.

“That’s it… good girl,” he whispered, his voice dipping lower, rougher.

“Always so eager to get me in that pretty mouth of yours, no matter what we’re doin’. you just can’t get enough.”

He chuckled, shaking his head in admiration as he went back to the stove, still casual, as if it were perfectly natural for you to be on your knees, sucking him off while he cooked.

You felt your own excitement building, a warmth settling over you as his words sank in, his easy praise making you feel cherished and bold.

As Joel continued cooking, your pace grew a little faster, your mouth working over him with that same familiar, comforting rhythm, but now you could feel his cock twitching, thick and heavy against your tongue.

He glanced down with a small smirk, clearly enjoying the way you seemed to lose yourself, the casual intimacy of it making him feel grounded, completely at ease.

Just then, the doorbell rang, echoing through the quiet kitchen.

Joel paused, casting a quick glance at the door before looking down at you with that calm, teasing expression, his fingers stroking through your hair.

“Well, guess Paul’s here,” he murmured, his voice low and amused, as if the idea of his friend arriving right now only added to his pleasure. “Mind hurryin’ it up, darlin’?��

You looked up at him, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, feeling a surge of need as his gaze held steady on yours.

The doorbell rang again, and you gripped his thighs tighter, pressing in, whispering in a low, urgent tone, “Please, baby… fuck my mouth. I need you to cum. right now.”

A low groan escaped him, his amusement giving way to a darker need as he held your head in place, his fingers tightening in your hair.

“Well, since you’re askin’ so nice, baby,” he murmured, his tone dropping, filled with pride and pleasure as he looked down at you. “Guess I can’t keep you waiting, can I?”

With a steady hand, he guided your head, his hips beginning to rock gently, then harder, each slow thrust filling your mouth with a deep, satisfying pressure that made you feel grounded, completely in tune with him.

His hips rocked forward, his hand guiding your head to take him as deep as possible, his voice breaking into low, filthy groans.

“That’s it… just like that. God, you’re a perfect little thing… lettin’ me use you, lettin’ me fill that pretty mouth like you’re starvin’ for it.”

His breaths grew more ragged, his cock pulsing with each movement as he picked up the pace, letting himself go, his fingers digging into your hair as he held you steady.

“Just like that,” he groaned, his voice thick with need, his thrusts becoming faster, deeper. “You want my cum, don’t you, sweetheart? Just need to feel me fillin’ that pretty mouth of yours.”

You hummed in response, the vibration making him gasp, his cock throbbing. Joel’s breaths grew heavy, his control slipping, and you could feel him getting closer, his words now a strained murmur.

“Almost there, sweetheart… just a bit more. Need you to swallow every bit for me.”

With one final thrust, he let go, his cock pulsing as he spilled into your mouth, warm and thick, his groans deep and satisfied as he watched you take everything he gave.

His thumb brushed over your jaw as you swallowed, his gaze filled with a mix of pride and possessiveness. “That’s my good girl,” he whispered, his voice rough as he held you close.

Just as you both caught your breath, the doorbell rang again. Joel smirked, helping you up and wiping the corner of your mouth with his thumb before pulling you into a quick, reassuring kiss.

He glanced at the door, chuckling. “Better let Paul in. Don’t want him thinkin’ we forgot about him.”

He straightened up, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips as he went back to the stove, leaving you flushed, fulfilled, and feeling like you were exactly where you needed to be.

You straightened up, catching your reflection in the hallway mirror and smoothing your hair, feeling both satisfied and a little flushed.

You opened the door to see Paul standing there

“Hey, Paul,” you greeted, trying to keep your tone light and casual, though you could feel Joel’s gaze burning into you from behind, clearly amused.

Paul stepped inside, glancing between the two of you with a smile. “Took you both long enough—I almost left again.”

Joel strolled over, leaning casually with that familiar smirk tugging at his lips. “Well,” he drawled, his eyes glinting as they met yours, “guess I finished up just in time.”

Your cheeks flushed as Joel’s smirk lingered, a private joke hanging thick in the air, while Paul remained blissfully oblivious.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

I really liked this…. a bit too much. 🫎

Just a little reminder that your comments, and reposts with reactions, mean the world to me. They’re the only “thank you” I get for these stories, and truly the reason I stay motivated to keep writing and sharing.

Knowing you’re enjoying the journey and hearing your thoughts keeps this all alive.

So please, keep those comments and reposts coming—they’re what make it all worth it. Thank you so much for being here and for all your support!!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️😭😭😭‼️‼️

[mostly-imagines]

The Venus Drug

jason todd x afab!reader

aka the side effects of a run-in with poison ivy

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), sex pollen so its inherently not strictly speaking consensual, oral (f & m receiving), free use, overstimulation

A clattering in your living room has you blearily shifting awake. The dark of your bedroom takes your eyes longer to adjust to than usual, it feels like. You peer at the time, finding it only just past midnight. Even on the good nights, midnight is pretty early for him to be coming back. 

Though, there’s really little concern of the noise-maker being anyone but your boyfriend, he’s set up too many security measures and failsafes around your apartment for anyone to get lucky waltzing in. It does worry you though that he is making such a clamor when he’s usually so careful about entering silently as to not wake you. 

You’re about to climb out of bed to investigate when the door creaks open, though light doesn’t flood through the crack like you’d expected.

Jason stumbles into the doorway, falling into a lean against the wall for support.

You sit up quickly, instantly on alert. “What’s wrong?”

He takes one glance at you and immediately averts his gaze to the floor like he saw something he wasn’t supposed to.

You look down, thrown by his behavior, only to see your usual nighttime attire: one of his shirts over underwear.

You blink back up at him, furrowing your brow. “Jay?”

You can vaguely make out a sigh from him, “Fuck…” he squeezes his eyes shut. “Ivy..”

Ah. This has happened before to the others, but this is the first time you’ve seen him affected by it. You’re prepared for it, though you hadn’t anticipated that it would be so seemingly debilitating.

“What can I do?” You try not to look as concerned as you feel but you can’t say with confidence that it’s working.

He slowly pushes himself off the doorframe, heading wearily towards the bathroom. He tugs his shirt off with difficulty, tossing it to the side. “Nothing, nothing..I jus’ need to…” he takes a deep breath, “Get it out of my system..” He’s trying to be comforting but the pain in his voice rids it of all believability.

You frown, watching him linger. “That seems like the exact kind of thing I could help with.”

His eyes close helplessly as his head falls back, “You can’t, baby.”

“Why not?”

He sighs, “I’m not…as in control as I’d like to be right now.”

Your pout deepens. This is something you’re working on with him—trusting both you and himself with vulnerability. Especially when it comes to situations where he feels like he’s putting you in a vulnerable place too. But you trust him with your whole being and you want him to know it. “That’s okay.”

“No,” he shakes his head vehemently. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you say resolutely. “I trust you.”

He wavers, “No, I…No. I can’t.”

He says that, but he’s still not retreating to the bathroom. Instead, he loiters awkwardly, like he’s caught between decisions.

You feel a twinge of heartache in your chest, “Does it hurt?”

He’s quick to answer, “I’m alright.” Though he doesn’t try his hardest to sell you on the idea. 

Your face pans, “That’s not what I asked.”

“I—” he huffs, conceding. “Yeah. Yes.”

You extend your arms out, beckoning him towards you. It clearly goes against his better judgment but he can’t help himself from moving closer to you. An evident testament to the strength of Ivy’s work.

You take his hands in yours, looking up at him with begging eyes, “Let me help you? Please?”

Up close like this you can really see how labored his breathing is and how pained he looks. You sit up onto your knees, pulling his hands closer. “I wanna take care of you. Let me help my boy out. He deserves it.”

He steels his jaw, trying to replenish his rapidly weakening resolve. He exhales heavily before grabbing your chin, eyes serious. “Look at me,” he says sternly. “You stop me if I’m too rough.”

You nod adamantly, “I will.”

You fidget with the loop of his belt, waiting for permission. 

He squeezes your hands slowly, head bowing. “Help me, sweetheart.”

You’re instantly up on your feet, maneuvering him to switch places with you and sit down on the bed. You kneel down in front of him, undoing the clasp on his belt.

You tug his belt off, letting it clatter on the floor before freeing him the rest of the way. To your surprise, his eyes remain on you rather than your actions. He brushes your hair out of your face haphazardly, murmuring, “Pretty fucking girl..”

You keen at his words, fighting the urge to pause and rub up against him. Instead, you busy yourself and lick a line up his cock, immediately feeling his body stutter. You lick another stripe, this time adding a kiss afterwards.

His hands squeeze at the comforter under him, “Baby, please.”

You give a short nod before taking him in your mouth completely. He groans like it’s automatic, body practically vibrating in place. You rest your hands over his and he’s quick to turn his own over to hold onto yours.

It only works as a momentary distraction, as one of his hands leaves your grasp to move your hair from blocking his view again, petting your head nicely as you suck him off. “Oh, good girl. My good girl.”

He babbles when he gets overwhelmed during sex, though it doesn’t happen often. And especially not like this.

“Fucking—” he stammers, “God, you’re so—”

Frankly, the image of you on your knees in front of him, so willing and eager to help him out…it’s killing him. He’s putting absolutely all of his remaining restraint into not taking over and fucking your mouth the way he wants to—and it shows—so you’re doing your best to take as much of him in your mouth as you can and using your hand to compensate for the rest.

His head bobs back as his hand falls to a rest atop your head. His breathing is deep and heavy and you can see the way his abs flex through his restraint. His hand briefly fists up before stuttering back to lay open-palmed on your head.

“Oh, baby—” he lets out a gravelly moan and his arms nearly give out from holding him up as he comes.

You happily collect it on your tongue and he audibly groans when you swallow.

He’s quick to pull you up off the floor and place you on the bed so he can clamor over you. You fall back to have your arms hold you up as he finds your lips. 

“Take your shirt off,” he tells you breathlessly. “Please.”

You oblige without hesitation as he kisses and gropes along your torso. You don’t realize what he’s doing until he’s at face level with your underwear, fingers dipping under the band.

You sit up onto your hands, “Jay, you don’t have to—”

He shakes his head, “‘M not gonna hurt you,” he mumbles, very adamant. “Not doin’ it.”

It’s been a long running personal requirement for Jason to thoroughly prep you in some way before fucking you, and he’s right for it—you would definitely get hurt if he didn’t.

You feel conflicted about it now though, like it’s not fair of you to let him pay such mind to you when he’s quite literally in unprecedented pain.

But he slips your underwear down without hesitation, not wasting any time in getting to work. He doesn’t start with his usual teasing and build-up, instead he goes straight into licking at your core, eyes closed and strands of white hair stuck to his forehead. 

He hooks one hand around your knee and the other wraps around your thigh, pulling you closer. He used the newfound proximity to lap at you with more concentration and purpose, quite literally devouring you. You struggle to keep your breathing in tune with the rest of your body, not having been prepared for so much so quickly.

He’s eating you out like it’s the only thing keeping him alive, not giving himself any time to breathe or even think about anything else. You’re about to push him away so that he’ll take a breath or two when he moans into your cunt, instantly veering your brain straight off course.

He breaks from licking your pussy only to change course in favor of sucking on your clit, leaving open-mouthed kisses every few seconds. You thread your fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him as best you can.

This is a new experience for both of you in terms of intensity and desperation and it has you feeling like you were injected with the same toxin he was. It throws you so completely out of your senses that you don’t even notice that he’s rutting into the bed as he kisses you. Though, odds are he doesn’t realize he’s doing it either.

His grip on you tightens as he gets more fervent, the dig from the indents of his fingers promising to bruise. His eyes flutter as he makes out with your pussy, little mewls making their way through periodically.

“Jay—” you cry, tugging harder than you’d meant to on his hair. He hums in response, letting you know that he’s here, he’s with you, he’ll take care of you. 

Even high out of his mind he can still read you like a book, and can tell that you’re nearing your peak. He gets meditated and precise with his actions, leading you right up to the edge. You whimper again and he begins to rut harder.

It takes only a few moments of this repetition for you to briefly tense up before you start to tremble, heat flooding through your body. The saccharine new taste of your cum motivates him to reach his own end, moaning into you and sending a second wave of rapture over you.

You exhale heavily as his forehead drops against your stomach, catching his breath. It doesn’t take him very long. 

You can just start to realize the persistent trembling in your thighs when he licks another stripe down your pussy. You whine, sitting up on your elbows and squirming higher up on the bed.

He pulls back murmuring, “Sorry.” He kisses the inside of your thigh, “Sorry.”

You watch as he pushes up on his forearms to look at you proper, seeming almost dizzy. “I need..I need…” his shoulders drop. “Please.”

You just nod, giving him permission to do whatever he needs. 

He pulls you up by the waist and tugs you into him as close as he can, kissing you hard. You move to hold his jaw in your hands, stroking your thumb across lightly. He leans you backwards to lay you down flat, head just below the pillows. He folds over you easily, kisses becoming less and less intentional in placement as his hands stroke and squeeze up your sides. 

He pulls away only to glance down as he lines himself up with you, pushing in slowly. He peers back up at your face as he does, watching carefully to make sure it doesn’t hurt.

You hold onto his shoulders as you take him, the stretch feeling significant but familiar.

He kisses your cheek once he’s fully inside and begins to rock in and out of you slowly. The pace picks up quickly as he continues to makeout with you.

A particularly intense thrust has you wrapping your arms fully around the frame of his shoulders, hugging him close to you. He immerses himself in the crook of your neck, fucking you with deeper and more punctuated strokes than you can remember.

“Jay,” you gasp as he places firm kisses across your jaw like he’s trying to hammer it into your head that he fucking loves you.

His thrusts gradually get faster and while it’s perfectly overwhelming for you, it doesn’t seem to be enough for him. 

He huffs before pulling out of you without warning. He untangles your arms from around him so he can flip you over to lay on your stomach. He pulls you back up just as quickly, arm wrapped around your torso, leaving you to hold yourself up by your hands and knees as he kisses on your neck messily.

This time when he reenters you he continues on with his previous pace, taking you by surprise once again. Your mouth is practically hanging open as he ruts into you, successfully sending your thoughts straight out of your head.

He lays kisses down your spine murmuring, “I love you.” He moves in and out of you without falter, “Thank you, thank you..”

His hands hold your waist in place, keeping you steady for both of your sakes. Multiple times his grip tightens only to loosen the second he realizes how hard he’s squeezing you. You don’t mind though, you’ve never had any trouble revering marks left behind by him before. 

“It’s—” you pant, “It’s okay—” you reach back to put your hand over his, pressing down.

His brash hold returns upon the permission, more assured. “Good girl, good—” he praises, “So fucking good for me, baby.”

He reaches around and dips his free hand below your hips, beginning to rub circles on your clit.

Your arms shake and you worry that they’re nearing buckling, but, attuned with you as ever, his arm wraps tighter around your middle, pulling you up a bit higher so that you barely have to mind any of the work of holding yourself up.

He makes sure to support your weight nicely, holding you in a way that he knows won’t be uncomfortable for you. His circles never cease, never falter from that just right pace he’s come to know like the back of his hand.

You’re brought to your high by the arrival of his, struggling to keep your head upright as you come.

He thumps down over to the side to lay on his back, chest heaving. You pick up your head to look over at him, finding that he doesn’t look nearly as exhausted as you’re sure you do. Still, he breathes heavy, pupils blown out and sweaty.

You notice how his fists clinch up and loosen a couple times over, trying to convince himself that he’s done, he doesn’t need any more from you, he’s all better now. 

But you also notice that he’s still hard. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling, dead set on not looking at you and having to confront that he really, really does still need you.

So you force yourself to sit up, placing a hand on his chest for balance. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to relax for your sake but that’s the last thing you want him to do.

You push yourself up and over his waist, perching over his abs and brushing his hair back from his forehead. You press a kiss to his head before sitting up on your knees and reaching down to line his cock up with your entrance.

You plant a hand on his chest as you sink down onto him with a deep breath.

“You’re okay,” he rasps, watching in mesmerization as you start to lift your weight up slowly off of your thighs and sink back down.

“I’m okay,” you confirm, guiding his hands to your hips. The presence of his hands on you feels like reassurance and works wonders to help you pick back up some of your energy.

The pace you latch onto feels good, for both of you, but you realize fairly quickly that you’re not going to be able to go as fast as he needs you to.

His hands slip down from your hips to your upper thighs, helping you bob up and down. It doesn’t take long for this to give way to him grabbing your hips and moving you entirely himself.

You watch his arm muscles flex as he shifts you around, leaving you awed with the way he shows virtually no struggle while shifting the majority of your body weight up and down over and over again. Just being completely manhandled by him has you letting out an involuntary moan, letting your head fall back.

“There you go, there you go,” he coos, motions without cessation.

He has you riding him faster than you ever have before and it becomes overwhelming quickly. But Jason, ever the caretaker, coaches you through it, encouraging your every movement.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, watching the way your breasts bounce. “Perfect fucking thing.”

The acclaim in his voice makes your eyes shut and your diaphragm shake, all while he continues to fuck you senseless. 

Your body stutters above him, hands flying onto his for support. He comes only moments later, seemingly the only thing that could break his concentration for ragdolling you. The following release of your hips has you slumping over onto his chest, face laying in the bend of his neck.

He turns his head wearily to you, rubbing a hand up your back. “‘R you okay?” he slurs out.

You hum feebly, eyes unable to stay open.

“Can I…?” It takes hearing the words for you to realize that somehow he’s still hard.

You try to nod hard enough that it can be distinguished against the heaviness of your breathing, though you can’t be sure you were successful.

He sighs, “Baby…”

His hangup is immediately clear to you, even through the haze of being post-three orgasms in less than thirty minutes. It takes real, measurable effort to get this singular word through, but you manage.

“Yes,” you breathe out. A ‘yes’ is going to have to work for him because you don’t have a shot at stringing together anymore syllables.

He places a gentle hand on the back of your head, his other landing on your lower back. He slowly starts to fuck you again, this time much softer than before. It’s calm enough that you can settle into the fatigue in your bones and start to feel the exhaustion sweep over your consciousness.

In between kisses laid sweetly upon your neck, He murmurs affections to you the whole time, though you lose almost all of them to sleep. He moves you around a bit more as he goes, though careful to be gentle enough that he doesn’t disturb your peace anymore than he has to.

By the time he’s done he’s bordering on completely out of it and can’t do anything but collapse atop you, nuzzling into your neck.

There’s a pretty consistent pattern that can be found when helping him deal with post-patrol aftermath. Scarecrow’s never any good, his pop-ups tend to end in winding Jason down from panic. There’s always injuries after Bane and invariably there’ll be a mess from Clayface. Half the time he has to get an entirely new suit after a run-in with Killer Croc. So as far as Gotham’s problems go, Poison Ivy isn’t the worst. 

the morning after epilogue

✨ oh you don’t reblog? that’s…no, that’s totally fine for you! im so happy for you…i mean its just been out of fashion for like three seasons but yeah, that shows a lot of…confidence! ✨

[rafey-baby]

stepdad!rafe being gross about his stepdaughter…

c/w: stepcest, kinda angsty, slight somnophilia & some dubcon fingering, use of dad, 18+ mdni!

wc: 880

if u don’t like stuff like this pls scroll & read something else xx 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Her relationship with her stepdad has always been rather strange.  

But she’s never really minded, because it felt nice to have someone fill that hollow pit inside her, the one that’s always been there, haunting her ever since her father left when she was just a little girl. An itch she could never quite scratch.  

It didn’t help that her mother was never exactly present in her life either— always too busy with work or looking for solace from the bottom of a wine bottle or blaming her for everything wrong in her life.

She was sixteen when her mom brought Rafe home for the first time. And she never quite understood why he had married the woman in the first place— why he filed for divorce only after she’d moved out for uni, and not the moment he found out his wife wasn’t spending all those late nights in the office, but instead in the bed of a stranger.

However, she didn’t much care for his reasons because he’d always been more of a parent to her than the people who were supposed to. She always secretly wished he would’ve been her real dad— not just someone she assumed felt obligated to take her under his wing when he found out how horribly she’d been treated all her life.  

That’s why she never really paid too much attention to his lingering touches or the borderline controlling tendencies that always seemed to fizzle to the surface whenever she’d do something he deemed bad. She was just happy that she finally had someone who made her feel safe, protected. What more could she really ask for? 

It felt nice when someone cared. 

And now, even if she’s legally an adult and capable of making her own decisions, she prefers when Rafe makes them for her. After all, is it so wrong to just want to be taken care of?  

Because university was a lot. And the never-ending deadlines, assignments and all the late nights she spent trying to understand something she just couldn’t, had grown into this hurricane inside of her. It swallowed up everything that once made life beautiful and worth living; hiding them away from her, until she was crying to her phone nearly every night with her daddy on the other end, trying to calm her down, but to no avail.  

And she could only take it for so long until one day, she was knocking on the door of Rafe’s brand new house with tear-soaked eyes and a suitcase— his strong arms wrapped tightly around her the only thing able to placate her in months because with him, everything felt secure.  

And she liked spending time with him and living on the island, had even gotten a weekend job at a surf shop (despite his protests) because she wanted to do something useful, something other than loitering around the house that felt more like a spooky mansion whenever he was at work.  

The empty hallways and her spacious bedroom were especially unsettling at night when she’d had a bad dream— more often than not making her tiptoe over to Rafe’s bedroom with a pout, asking if she could sleep there instead. ‘Of course you can, sweetheart’ he’d always murmur; voice gravelly with sleep and already making space for her under the covers…

Then one night, as she’s peacefully snoozing off in his warm embrace, his fingertips slip past the waistband of her fleecy pajama bottoms— merely grazing at the smooth skin of her lower tummy, telling himself he’s just trying to do something with his hands so sleep could find him faster.

That’s until he notices she’s not wearing any panties, getting an insatiable urge to tuck his fingers between her soft thighs— already meeting a sticky mess there. After all, he only has so much self-control around the innocent little angel he swears was sent from heaven just for him to taint; to ruin.  

And it’s not like she seems to mind with the way she snuggles closer to him in her sweet slumber; the round of her ass pressing closer and closer against his crotch with every unconscious shift of her hips.  

Only when he begins mindlessly thumbing at her clit, does she stir— drowsy voice panicky when she mumbles out something inaudible.  

“Shh. S’just me, relax, yeah?” he hushes her, wet fingertips rubbing lazy circles over her weepy cunt when she whines— a complaint already blossoming on her tongue, something about him being gross, no doubt.  

“Is dad not makin’ you feel nice?” he coos, other hand dragging her closer with a grip on her thigh when she tries to pull away.  

“This is— you shouldn’t…” she stumbles over her words, trying to wriggle away from his overwhelming touch.   

“Shh, what do I always tell you, hm?” he clicks his tongue, his hold firm as he coaxes her to tell him what he wants to hear.  

Momentarily, she gets distracted from squirming around as she searches through her fuzzy brain before whispering out the answer. “…dad knows what’s best.” 

“There you go, that’s m’girl,” he breathes out, pressing a gentle kiss to the apple of her cheek as a reward— smiling against the skin when she lets out a muffled whimper, because his hands do feel nice.

[augustinewrites]

“what’s on these?” megumi asks, holding up a box of memory cards.

cleaning day always unearthed all types of lost and forgotten items. sometimes it was clothes long forgotten in you and gojo’s closet, other times it was the kid’s old books or toys. you knew every inch of your little apartment, so most times you could identify any mystery items that came up.

“i don’t know,” you hum, plucking a card from the box to inspect it a little more closely. the only hint as to what’s actually on it seems to just be a date.

2006

…and it’s in gojo’s handwriting.

curious, you pop one into the video player and turn on the tv. the kids join you on the couch, clearly eager to entertain any distraction from your cleaning crusade.

when the screen flickers to life, a familiar courtyard comes into view.

you can’t help the gasp when haibara comes into focus…but then you see satoru standing standing across from him, arms spread out.

“who is that?” megumi asks, pointing at haibara.

you think of the bright smile of the boy still lingering in the edges of your memory and tell him, softly, “an old friend.”

“suguru!” gojo shouts, looking towards the person holding the camera. he’s all messy hair and wide smiles, exactly how you remember him in his youth. “make sure you get this one!”

geto grumbles about how he’s paying attention, and suddenly you remember exactly what this is.

“ah, these are from when yaga would make us record ourselves practicing cursed technique application,” you explain as a haibara lines up a shot with a pencil.

the pencil hits gojo in the face, gifting him a small cut on his cheek. “ah, shit!”

behind the camera you can hear nanami and geto laughing as haibara apologizes profusely, and shoko comes over to practice her healing. you come over too, holding a cloth.

“don’t pout,” your younger self says, reaching up to wipe a thin trail of blood from his cheek. “you’ll get it next time.”

as soon you turn away, you hear geto snicker and the camera suddenly zooms in on gojo’s face.

he’s blushing.

“ugh,” you hear him groan behind the three of you, finally finished cleaning the bathroom. “are we done cleaning yet?”

“we’re taking a break!” tsumiki tells him, as megumi pops another card in.

gojo ignores megumi’s protests, stealing the spot on the couch next to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders with a smirk. “move your feet, lose your seat.”

tsumiki, angel that she is, moves over so her brother can sit on your other side as the video starts.

this time, gojo is the one recording, holding the camera out so it’s pointed at his own smiling face. “haibara versus nanami, round one!”

you feel your boyfriend stiffen beside you, looking over to see an odd look on his face. “oh, fuck—”

“jar,” megumi says flatly.

he glares at the kid, and is about to get up when you stop him. “wait! i want to watch this!”

he slumps back, throwing an arm over his eyes as he groans dramatically. ignoring him, you watch the fight play out, which ends with haibara whining whilst in a headlock.

you hear geto’s murmured commentary off camera as nanami releases his classmate, expecting the video to zoom in on the victor.

but it drifts a little to the left, where you’re laughing with shoko on the sidelines.

“so obvious,” geto scoffs. the video wobbles for a moment before being pointed directly at the tips of satoru’s shoes, then ends abruptly.

when you glance over at satoru, he’s pulled his sunglasses over his eyes as if they can hide his pink cheeks.

the next videos are similar. memories of your past viewed through a different lens, showing you things you’d never picked up on when you were living them.

some moments you watch with an aching heart. like when suguru leans close to you and makes a joke at satoru’s expense, or when you reach up to ruffle haibara’s hair.

(moments with cherished friends proving that the grief of losing them never got any lighter as you moved forward with your life, but at some point you’d just gotten used to carrying the weight.)

but what might be most interesting is seeing yourself in satoru’s eyes.

his focus, whether he was the one holding the camera or not, always seemed to drift to you. for all the times he’d denied crushing on you in your early years, the camera proves otherwise.

the way he peeks at you shyly as you fix your hair before a fight.

the way he reaches out instinctively whenever you’re knocked backwards.

the way he smiles brightly whenever you laugh at one of his jokes.

the way your gaze would occasionally meet his, and his smile seemed to come naturally.

“okay, that’s enough for tonight,” satoru announces, shutting the tv off and shooing the children away. “go clean your rooms, you freeloaders.”

you stand, looping your arms around his neck before he can run away. smiling, you gently pull his glasses off, tossing them onto the couch.

“hey! those are gucci—”

you shut him up with a kiss, feeling the way his lips curve upwards against yours. “i love you, you know that?”

blue eyes meet yours, the pensive look he’d been wearing melting into something a little softer. something reserved for you. “you’re obsessed with me, i know.”

you simply laugh, letting him dip down to give you another kiss.

(because you’d had his heart in your pocket long before either of you had realized.)

[awrkive]

tlp xmas special — jjk (m.)

hello awrkive nation!!! its late but merry christmas to those who celebrate!! sorry for being ia but heres a christmas gift from me to you 🫣 first of all i genuinely forgot abt the car s*x drabble that won that poll i made a few weeks ago which i promised you guys ISHDJDJ but here it is!! this drabble combines all of these three recurring requests for the tlp couple and this might also be the last drabble im doing for them (for now??) so do enjoy!!

pairing: tlp!jungkook x tlp!oc (main story)

summary: in which jungkook looks way too good carrying your sister's three-year old at her christmas eve party and you can't help but let your mind wander

w/c: 6k (ctfu)

warning/s: explicit sexual content (p in v s*x, car s*x, unprotected s*x, cre*mpie), oc having baby fever lol. genuinely not proofread sorry for any errors!

You find babies mesmerizing. They’re charming, they can be a handful, they’re irresistibly cute; so tiny, yet so loud. But to the core, they somehow manage to be a pure embodiment of joy.

Before Nayeon got pregnant, she shared something about having a “baby fever”. Of course you knew what it meant – but you never really felt it yourself. She said it was something about Minhyuk being such a good husband that she couldn’t wait for him to be a father. Well, you related to that specific part, at least; about your own husband being such a good husband. However, for the past year you’ve become a married couple, you never really thought about having babies. Or him being a father. Or you being a mother. 

It’s not like you don’t want to become a mother, like ever, or have a family with him. It’s just you thought you’re still way too young to be having babies. So you kind of just… gloss or skip over that idea – and for the record, Jungkook’s never brought it up, either. 

It’s not until your sister got pregnant for the second time, though, that you got yourself thinking. Seokjin and her had babies almost four years into their marriage, but it’s not very long until they decided to try again after Nari and now your sister is carrying her baby boy for seven months. 

It brings you here, gathered at their house for Christmas Eve. Your families haven’t arrived yet, but you and Jungkook decided to go earlier than the agreed time to help out with the – admittedly, big preparation. And currently, Jungkook’s got Nari – Seokjin and your sister’s 3-year-old – in his arms, asking for raspberries because Jungkook’s her favorite uncle. (Why wouldn’t he be? He spoils her a lot and carries her around when you come over.) He insisted on looking after her so Seokjin can help your sister out in the kitchen while you’re over at the counter island making some charcuterie.

Seokjin’s helping your sister take out the pies they’ve both prepared, with him guarding her and being extra with it because “my wife is pregnant and I’m growing white hairs because she wouldn’t just let me do everything”. Your sister is just so done chastising him for his overbearing antics, but you guess it’s cute, at the core of it all. You’ve always looked up to their relationship all these years. In fact, you kind of see Seokjin in Jungkook sometimes. Seokjin loves your sister the way Jungkook loves you. 

And then, the thought passes over your head like some form of looming possibility, unsettling yet intriguing. It lingers for a moment, uninvited but persistent, as if life is quietly hinting at something you’ve never truly considered before. The idea of a baby, of parenthood, feels distant but somehow more tangible now—like a door you never saw, now standing slightly ajar, waiting for you to decide whether to step through.

Would Jungkook be just as (lovingly) overbearing if you were pregnant? You imagine he’d be even more annoying about it. It’s rare for you to get sick, but when you do, Jungkook practically flips the house upside down just to make sure you don’t have to lift a finger. Takes care of you so seriously, as if the illness would never go away on its own in a few days. So what would it be like if you were carrying his child? Would he act like Seokjin does now, always hovering with a hand on your back, supporting your every move, scolding you if you try to do anything that requires even a little bit of effort?

The thought makes your lips curl. Because he probably would. You know he will. 

And as you look at him from across the room, carrying Nari around effortlessly against his body with one arm, with his red long-sleeve polo shirt pushed up to his forearms, white slacks, and freshly cut hair slicked to perfection for tonight’s occasion, he looks… delectable. 

Like a DILF. 

Except he isn’t a dad. 

But god, would you really, really like to fuck him. 

(And would he look way hotter if he – say – gave you a child?)

“Is it done?” Your sister interrupts your thoughts – thankfully, might you add. Because it’s going in a direction that’s way too inappropriate for a family occasion like this, and you need to be family friendly tonight for this Christmas party. 

When you turn around to see if she was talking to you, you find her looking at her husband instead, and with her stance and the tone of her voice, you know it doesn’t sound good. 

“Yeah. I think I just need to add a little more—” 

“Jin,” she says, sounding a little distressed. “Hurry. And make sure it’s perfect, okay? Everyone’s arriving in fifteen, and this is the first time I’m hosting Christmas and I really, really don’t want to disappoint your family and Jungkook’s parents and mom and—” 

“Hey,” You see Seokjin put a hand on the lower part of your sister’s back, effectively cutting her off. Gently, he tells her, “Everything’s perfect, alright?” 

Soft tunes of Christmas songs are playing all over the huge open space of their house, and you know you’re not supposed to listen in to the conversation given that they’re spoken in an almost hushed manner as some sort of discretion, but you can’t help but notice when she turns to Seokjin to give him a downturned smile.

“I just really want to give this my all…” 

He smiles down at her reassuringly. “You have, honey. Let’s not stress, okay? Not good for baby, remember?” Then, he begins to rub her protruding belly, and you see her visibly relaxing to his touch. 

You turn around quickly to not get caught watching, only to be welcomed with Jungkook making a beeline towards you, with Nari still in his arms. 

“Hi, baby,” Your sister automatically greets Nari, cooing at her, mood immediately picking up. The bright-eyed little girl lights up at the sight of her mommy, making grabby hands instantly. Laughing, Jungkook hands her to Seokjin, who receives his daughter and kisses her chubby cheeks with a smack. 

“What were you up to with uncle JK, little missy?” Seokjin says, swaying her side to side. 

Jungkook leans his elbow on the island while looking at the pair, smiling widely.

“Uncle JK said he’s giving me three presents! Three! I wanna open them!” She holds up three fingers, and you giggle at her cuteness.

Your sister softly laughs in response. “Your uncle likes to spoil you, sweetie. But we’ll open them later, okay?”

“Why not now?” She whines, and you smile at how seriously she takes it. “I want three presents!”

“Don’t worry,” Seokjin laughs, “You’ll have lots of surprises when the grandmas and grandpas get here. But we need to change into your dress first.”

Nari giggles. “You? You’re gonna wear a dress too?”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, why not?”

She shakes her head, still giggling, her pigtails swaying as she does so. God, she looks like a combination of Seokjin and your sister that it’s so uncanny sometimes.

“You’re so silly, daddy.”

Seokjin feigns shock. “Silly? Just wait, Uncle JK and I are going to be Ariel and Belle for New Year’s! Right, Jungkook?” He looks over at Jungkook, who widens his eyes comically.

You laugh, and Jungkook adds, “Well, I wanted to be Cinderella, but sure, I’ll be Belle.”

Nari gasps dramatically, putting her hand over her mouth. “But she’s my favorite, Uncle JK! You can’t be her!”

She’s such a cute kid – and you know everybody in the room agrees. No doubt her mom and dad think so, but when you look over at Jungkook, he’s cheesing really hard – with his nose scrunched into that expression of cute aggression. 

“These two boys are silly.” Your sister interrupts with a playful roll of her eyes. She looks at her husband Nari, “Honey, take Nari upstairs and dress her up, please.”

“I can wear my new dress now?!” Nari shrieks, excitement showing with the way she wiggles in her father’s hold.

“Absolutely, baby, and the sparkly white shoes, too,” Seokjin nods. You all coo when Nari lets out an adorable, delighted “yay!” at the words, already leaning towards the direction of the stairs and telling her father to hurry. With a chuckle, Seojin turns to you. “Alright. And Jungkook, please help her with the food.” Seokjin’s gaze falls to your sister, a reminder before he goes completely.

“She’s so cute, I can’t.” Jungkook chuckles.

“Right… my sister was definitely not that cute when we were younger.” you tease, earning an arched brow to your way from your sister. 

“I was the cuter one between us, it’s an established fact,” she rolls her eyes. “When you two get a kid, it better look like Jungkook.” 

Maybe the remark sounded like such a throw-away comment that Jungkook just laughs it off as if it isn’t the first time somebody hinted at you two starting a family. Or maybe he just thinks it isn’t a big deal. Or maybe… maybe he likes the idea? 

You’re about to say something when your sister turns to you.

“You,” she takes you by the shoulders and you look back at her. “You might want to retouch your make-up. Party’s starting soon. And this charcuterie looks—” she looks to the side as if to check if Nari is still around, and when she deems she isn’t at all, she continues to say, “fucking perfect. I love you.” 

“Duh.” you reply, cockily showing off the board to her and to Jungkook who intriguingly looks at your work. 

“I knew you should have been a chef.” Jungkook comments proudly, grinning at you.

“Alright, man,” your sister says in a flat tone, making Jungkook and you laugh. “Jungkook, can help me transfer these to the dining table, please?” She points to the trays of food and Jungkook rounds the counter so he can do just as she requested. 

Before you can head to the powder room, Jungkook brushes past your waist – just one of the candid things he does to have some sort of physical contact with you when you’re not necessarily talking together or close to each other.

It puts a smile on your face as you enter the powder room. 

Inside, you make quick work of putting another layer of lipstick and pressing powder on your face, checking your hair before you stand upright and look at your reflection in the mirror.

You step backwards enough to see half of your body, and from there, you can see how beautiful you look in the outfit you’ve chosen for tonight. It’s a satin red dress with a halter neckline, the gathered drape cascading gracefully around your neck, exposing your shoulders. The silhouette fits at the waist and flows into a straight skirt that stops inches below your knees, and Jungkook may have had a hard time letting you go in your bedroom before you drove to your sister’s place – but you promised him a good time when you get back home so in the end, he had to tuck in a semi on the way from here.

Poor Jungkook. 

Though… you’re beginning to think poor you, instead.

Because you’re thinking about it again. Him in his outfit tonight; the silk polo so he can match yours, and the way he looked so good with a baby girl in his strong arms. 

You can already picture how good he'd look with his own child. He’d be the type of dad who looks effortlessly hot with a baby carrier, showers his kids with gifts because he can’t help himself, and simply excels at being a wonderful father because he’s Jeon Jungkook and he excels in everything he sets his mind to.

Now your brain’s going on a haywire. 

Because now it’s just Jungkook. Hot Jungkook. Jungkook with a baby. Jungkook looking smoking hot carrying his own baby – your baby. 

And wouldn’t it be nice? To carry a being formed by your mutual love? To have someone as adorable and smart and sassy as Nari? God. You hope she’d look like you, but have Jungkook’s eyes because they are your favorite part of him, and then his nose, maybe? And… and maybe have the mole under his lip too, if that was possible. Jungkook had a lot of hair when he came out of his mom’s womb, would your daughter have a lot of hair as well when you give birth to her? 

And why are you already thinking of the gender of your non-existent child? 

You think you’ve gone nuts, but the indulgent little devil on your shoulder is insisting that Jungkook would look so good with a baby girl because you know he’d be such a girl dad. There’s just absolutely no doubt about it, given how he treats Nari. 

You stare at yourself in the mirror again, and absentmindedly, you turn to the side, noting the very clear absence of a bump on your stomach unlike your sister’s. 

Would you carry a baby as gracefully as her? You know her struggles… but… maybe you won’t mind it with a husband like Jungkook… right? Just like she doesn’t mind with a husband like Seokjin. Because Jungkook takes really good care of you. He’d probably panic more than you about certain things. Be extra careful for the both of you. Fetch you your cravings. Love you more than he does now. 

You remember Seokjin rubbing a gentle hand over your sister’s bump, and it brings your own to caress the flat of your stomach over the smooth fabric of your dress. 

Obviously no baby there. But… just imagine. You with a baby bump.

Hah. 

Weird, because it’s the first time the idea’s planted in your head and you kind of like it more than you thought. 

You nibble on your bottom lip as you continue to caress your tummy, not noticing the knock that came from outside. 

“Oh my—” 

“Baby?” 

“Jungkook.” Your hands retreat back to your sides. When you look at Jungkook, standing on the doorway, you let one hand clutch at your chest as you tell him, “You scared me.” 

The door clicks as he locks it behind him. Your husband arches his brow as he goes over to you. “What are you so jumpy for?” 

You ignore the question, looking back to the mirror again to fix your dress. But as you do so, you see his reflection – and you catch how he intently stares at you through the glass as well, walking behind you closer and pressing himself against you. His proximity suddenly makes you nervous.

“You should’ve knocked.” 

“I did. You didn’t answer.” 

“I didn’t hear.” When you turn around, Jungkook takes a curled strand of hair over your face and tucks it behind your ear. 

“You look beautiful. So gorgeous.” He says before he wraps his arms around your waist and presses a kiss to your lips, one that you welcome fully even though you just reapplied your lipstick. When you break away, you see some remnants on his lips… and realize you picked the wrong lipstick for tonight. You should’ve brought the kiss-proof lippy instead.

You wipe it off and Jungkook smiles before he ducks down, not caring, and kisses your cheek for good measure before he speaks again, “What were you doing in here?” He wiggles his eyebrows, as if he knows you were up to something before he barged in. 

You avoid his gaze and turn back around. 

“Nothing,” You say, trying to busy yourself with your hair again. But Jungkook can be really annoying when he wants to be, so of course he pushes, quite literally and figuratively. 

“What was it? I saw you…” He teases, pushing his nose in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, tightening his hold around you. 

“What did you– Jungkook!” You half-snort and scoff when Jungkook bites your neck playfully. You turn around to push him, but he’s insistent on keeping the nonexistent space between you and cages you in his big presence instead, trapping you in between the edge of the sink and the heat of his body. 

“This damn dress…” Jungkook whispers as he splays his hand over your stomach, which makes your breath hitch. 

Did he really see? See you pretending to have a baby bump at the thought of him impregnating you? 

But Jungkook doesn’t really say anything further, just lets an idle finger run over the curve of your hips up to your waist, until it stops at the exposed skin of your shoulder. 

“Can’t wait to fuck you in this.” He whispers in your ear, eyes meeting your gaze in the mirror, not subtle in the way he checks out your body after. 

You huff out a scoff, giving a little more force into the push that you give him this time. His more relaxed hold on you makes him stumble a little bit backwards, chuckling when you roll your eyes at him once again. 

“You’re not even gonna take it off me?” You ask as your turn on the tap, arching your brow at Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror. 

A sly smirk makes an appearance on his lips. “I don’t need to take anything off to make you cum, baby.” 

You turn around, leaning on the sink. “So you’re saying you’re not interested at all about my very elaborate choice of underwear tonight, then?” 

That catches him off guard, his brows furrowed in confusion and then realization.

“You minx.” 

You chuckle, swatting his hand away when he tries to touch you. When he whines, you take a step forward and wrap your arms around his neck, and Jungkook’s predictably eager to encircle your waist in his arms back again. 

“Later. We have to keep it PG for at least three hours tonight. And you can—” you push at his chest for leverage so you can lean down a little to ride your dress up your thighs. Looking at Jungkook, you watch as he stares at you closely, intently, but oblivious to what you’re doing. He clearly enjoys it, though, judging from the hint of a smile on his lips and the shine in his eyes when more of your skin gets revealed. 

Especially when he catches a glimpse of your white lace underwear that he bought for you himself.

He whistles, and you roll your eyes at the predictable reaction. Taking one of his hands off you, you guide it in between your thighs, earning an involuntary moan from you because Jungkook’s palm automatically cups your heat when he gets close. 

“Ah…” 

“Fuck…” Jungkook looks down where his hand meets your core. “Goddamn,” He says, then you feel him push your panties to the side, dipping the tip of his finger in your pussy. “Why the fuck are you so wet, baby?”

“Y-yeah…” You whine against his chest, gripping his wrist when he attempts to move again. “Kook, don’t.” 

Jungkook halts. He looks at you. Then, he nods. “Alright. Alright. Stop this here?” 

“Hm.” 

He looks down at you with an arched brow. “You started it, though.” 

“You were being flirty.” You say as Jungkook brings your underwear back in place, but not without squeezing your ass first. You nibble on your bottom lip as he rides down the dress, letting it dangle on your knees back again, smoothing the front for you to get rid of the wrinkles. 

“Not my fault you’re hot,” he snorts. “Fuck.” 

“What?” 

“I’m kinda hard…” He says, and you both look down to the bump on his white slacks. Certainly not his full potential (like… you’d know), but it’s still apparent in the light color of his trouser. 

“Poor baby,” you say, can’t help but pat it a little condescendingly which earns a chuckle from Jungkook, him playfully swatting your hand away. 

“You’re so…” 

“I’m so what.” 

Jungkook’s face is a mixture of frustration and amusement. “You always do this shit.” 

You giggle, knowing exactly what he means. But you act like you have no clue. “What?” 

“Get me horny then leave.” He shakes his head, then pokes your waist. 

Chuckling, you kiss him on the cheek quickly, making a beeline to the door quickly lest he tries to kiss you again (and you’ll have no choice but to make out in your sister’s powder room, during her big Christmas party, mind you) and then give him a wink before you go.

 

The ride on the way home felt like it took sixty five years, and it might just be true especially when you’re horny as hell and you got a husband behind the steering wheel looking effortlessly hot in his element. 

You’ve been hot and bothered for hours, and maybe it’s the champagne – probably has gotten in your brain or whatever – but Jungkook was not even done parking when you made a move to palm him over the console. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook hissed, clearly not expecting it at all. He had that wide-eyed look when he frantically turned off the engine, staring at you while your hand grew heavy on his crotch. “Here?” You bit on your bottom lip as you nodded your head. He looked beyond conflicted. “But baby, we’re just ten floors away from our u–”

“Please?” 

And what was he supposed to say? No? 

Absolutely not. Not when your glassy eyes looked so pleading the way they did.   

He just makes your insides churn, especially when you look at him. And for the past few hours, you couldn’t stop thinking about his dick inside you and most especially his cum. (Translation: You can’t stop thinking about him fucking a baby into you).

But… the thing was, you’ve only ever fucked in a car once.

Jungkook’s way too pesky about stuff like that, and somehow, even though he’s already been made aware of your exhibitionist tendencies (cue unprompted sex in public areas like that one time in the beach, window sex at a Ritz hotel back in London and… admittedly many more…) car sex was just… a least favorite. The first and only time you did it was when you were still fresh into dating; at a drive-thru cinema, but it was kind of a whack in both your opinions because it was too cramped up and you bumped your head and you almost got caught which is way too embarrassing of a memory to ever revisit. 

But now maybe that really doesn't matter anymore.

Not when your husband looks like that.

And bottomline is: you just really, really want him to cum in you. 

Oh god. What is wrong with your head tonight? 

“Baby, fuuuck,” Jungkook hisses as you speed up your rhythm up and down his cock. His boxers and slacks are pushed down to the middle of his thighs while his shirt is all but buttoned. Meanwhile, your dress is bunched up in your mid-section. 

You’re near tears on his lap at this point, already feeling your thighs straining at the force you’re exerting in every bounce – but you couldn’t care less. 

“Oh my god, baby– you feel so good,” you moan, eyes shutting close at the feel of his tip hitting that spot inside you whenever you go down.

For the first few minutes, Jungkook took it upon himself to guide your hips in every movement just like he always does when you ride him like this, pounding into you from underneath, but he eventually let you control the pace, leaning way back to the reclined seat and watches you work instead. He stares at you with hooded eyes as you push yourself up and down on his hardened cock, stiletto heels digging the side of his thighs occasionally.

While you pleasure yourself on him, he slides your dress up further, gets a little frustrated that it’s tight on the waist so he can’t push it past your tits. So he feels for your nape to find the zipper because he knows it’s there – he zipped you up in this dress before you drove to your sister’s place – and he delights when he finds the small, cold material, pulling it down blindly until you noticed and help him get yourself out of it. 

Jungkook sighs when the top comes down, snapping the clip of your sleeveless bra and getting it out of the way before he greedily fondles your now bare breasts in his huge palms. 

“Ohh,” you moan when Jungkook flicks your nipples, getting them even harder. You push yourself back, leaning into one elbow on the steering wheel as you begin to rock against him in a back and forth motion,

“Fuck—” Jungkook lets out a guttural groan, squeezing your tits tighter that makes you keen in want. “So fucking sexy, baby. Shit – damn – l-love you.” 

“I-I love you too,” you say, more like a whine, chasing a high he knows is impending. 

Jungkook looks up at you with hooded eyes. Your hair that was once tidy and neat three hours ago is now all over the place, the high bun loosening and some strands falling off your pretty face. Your lipstick smudged and he’s sure the remnants are on his lips, and with your mouth agaped in that erotic o-shape while you pleasure yourself on his cock, Jungkook feels like exploding. 

“Ah– shit,” he groans, feeling the warm crevice of your wet pussy swallow him whole. When you climbed over his lap a while ago after he fingered you, he was gonna take out a condom from the glove compartment but you insisted to not use it, and the picture of you looking down while he pushed your panties to the side and looked into each other’s eyes as you sank down on him is still playing in his head like a broken record.

God fuck damn, you’re just so unreal. The love of his life. His wife. 

He wipes your tear-stained cheeks, torn because he doesn’t like seeing you cry but he does like it when it’s because you’re so eager to bounce on his cock that even though you know you’re pushing it, you continue to do so.

Jungkook lets his hand travel from a boob to linger on your cheek, and he keens on the way you purr when you lean into his touch, smiling slightly when you open your mouth as his thumb nears it. 

You eagerly suck it as if verbally prompted, opening your eyes just so you can stare at his as you lewdly slobber over his finger while you expertly move against his cock, breasts jiggling up and down right in front of his face – the obscene squelches of your lovemaking filling the air of his cramped up benz. 

“You’re so perfect, baby,” Jungkook whispers. “Perfect girl. You love bouncing on my cock, love? Just couldn’t wait until we get home? Hm?��� His tone is a bit condescending and cocky. 

When Jungkook takes out his finger from your mouth, you bite your lip as you nod, resuming your up and down motion again. Slamming down on his dick, your hands come up to grip his shoulders tight. 

“We are home.” 

Jungkook chuckles, a rich and dark sound that sends shivers down your spine. A snarky remark gets buried in your throat when you feel a certain zap of electricity coming from your toes to your spine, the hot coil in your stomach edging to burst.

“I’m cumming– oh my god, Jungkook– baby I’m cumming—” You say, speeding up your pace once again. 

With your breasts bouncing in front of his face like that, he couldn’t help but dive right into it, wrapping his lips around one nipple, nipping and sucking and licking, while he busies one hand with fondling the other. He alternated in between both tits, groaning and grunting when your pussy tightens around him, and one more slam on his cock gets you spiraling as you finally cum. 

Jungkook closes his eyes when he feels you gush around him, and he really wishes that he could lay you down, spread you out, and eat the slick right out of you just like how he likes it.

“That’s it, baby – fuck. Good girl, good girl.” 

A long, drawl-out moan slips past your lips, and Jungkook takes it upon himself to keep you bouncing on his cock when your energy dwindles down, rocking his hips upwards, just as eager to reach his high as well. 

You try to pick up your pace to help him, planting your palms on his bare chest to meet his thrusts. 

“Fuck baby, I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” Jungkook says in a hushed whisper, groaning, squeezing your ass tight that you know will leave marks the next day. 

“I know, baby – cum for me,” You lean down to capture his lips, whimpering when you feel yourself still coming down from your high.

“Ohh fuuck—” Jungkook moans, a tell-tale sign of his orgasm. “Fuck, I’m cumming—” 

It’s almost second nature the way he looks down on your crotch, hand going over to where you meet – and you almost panic when you realize what he’s about to do. 

“Jungkook, no,” you stop his hand, and he looks at you with utter confusion, rightfully so. Biting your lip, you stare into his eyes as you say, “I want you to come inside me.” 

You watch as his eyes widen, then, “You sure?” He says with furrowed brows.

You nod your head frantically. “Please come in me. I want your come in me. Please, please—” 

“Jesus fuck—” Jungkook’s hips stutter, his grip on yours tightening, gaze darkening as he processes your words. “Fuck. Okay, baby. No need to beg, okay? Fuck. I’ll come inside you.” 

You speed up your pace and you can feel yourself getting there for a second time, and maybe it’s the heat of the moment, but your next words fall from your lips without much thought: “Yeah, yeah –give it to me, Kook. Want your– ah– want your babies.” 

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses, taken aback by your words. “Fuuuck…” He looks up at you, grabs your waist and makes you lean closer. “You mean that?” 

You nod your head, jumping on his cock up and down like your life depends on it. “Want your babies. Want you to cum in me.” 

“Shiiitt,” Jungkook sighs, and you feel him getting harder by the second. “Gonna– gonna fuck a baby in you, baby. Fuck. You don’t know what you do to me– shit, I’m cumming.” 

You both moan in unison when Jungkook finally releases inside you the same time you do so, his cock hardening in your walls, throbbing when you settle down on his lap with him still buried inside you. When the seconds pass, you feel the exhaustion wrapping around you, and you let Jungkook trail kisses up your shoulders and neck at the post-coital momentum. 

“Fuck, that was so hot.” He whispers against your lips, kissing your parted mouth. You sigh against it, all sweaty and fucked out. 

“Oh, baby…” You moan when Jungkook lifts you up and you feel yourself dripping from your cum. 

“Fucking hell, so beautiful baby...” Jungkook trails off, squeezing your breasts before pushing you gently to lean back on the steering wheel. You look down as you watch with a gasp when he slides his cock out from your heat, covered in white and slick, moaning lewdly when he pumps it out for more. 

Some of it spurts on your pussy, and you stare in awe when Jungkook inserts the tip once again in your heat, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the blurred lines between pleasure and overstimulation. 

“Goddammit.” Jungkook sighs, gratified, tapping his cock on your pussy a few times before he grabs your hips again so he can kiss you on the mouth. It almost gives you whiplash when he looks at you with such sincere and genuine eyes as he says, “I love you.” 

“Love you,” you say, closing your eyes when his kisses trail to your jaw and his hands come up to fondle your tits again. His favorite fixation – his words, not yours. “Kook.” 

“Hm.” 

“Sticky.” 

He hums again. You keep your position like that for a few more seconds before Jungkook helps put your panties and dress back in place, picking you up slightly as you climb over the passenger seat. 

You watch as he pulls his boxers and pants back up, buckling his belt around the waist. He hasn’t fixed the unbuttoned state of his shirt yet before he looks at you again with a smile.

“Come here, you,” He says, beckoning you to come closer with his arm around your seat. You grin, crossing the console again to meet the kiss he gives your mouth. Then, Jungkook breaks the contact, caressing your cheek as he speaks. “Babies, huh?” He brings up, eyes so bright; delighted, excited. He has that unshakeable grin. 

And you can’t help but mirror it. 

“Do you want to?” You ask instead. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you nervously wait for his answer that doesn’t really take that long. 

“Fuck, yeah. If you want to, then I want to,” he responds. Then, he adds, “And I really, really want to.”

“Okay…” you say, biting your lip to keep yourself from smiling too much. “But it doesn’t have to be now. Or I don’t know. I know it’s only been a year since we got married and all that—” 

“Baby, stop,” Jungkook says before you can finish your thought. “Doesn’t matter if we were one month into the marriage. As long as you’re ready, then I’m ready. Are you ready?”

A few beats. 

It was your horny-adled brain that got you in this position in the first place – but you think about how life with Jungkook would be like with kids added in the equation in the near future.

It would be so far from bad. 

The past year had been nothing short of bliss since you married him, and as you watched Jungkook, a thought warmed your heart: he’d be an incredible dad. The way he loves you, so deeply and selflessly, leaves no doubt in your mind that he’d go above and beyond for your child—or children. You’re certain he’d love them as much as he loves you, perhaps even more.

A smile spreads across your face, and you nod to his question.

“I want a family with you, Kook.”

Jungkook’s face lights up with a delighted smile, mirroring yours. “So, we’re doing this?”

You nod again, biting your lip to temper your excitement.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

You blink at him in surprise. “Why are you thanking me?”

He shakes his head with a gentle smile and leans in to kiss you again. “Just… thank you.”

You furrow your brows, squinting at him in playful confusion. Before you can say more, he leans forward and nips the tip of your nose.

“Ow!” you exclaim, laughing.

“You’re cute,” Jungkook teases. “But we’ve gotta clean up and head home. Then, we can keep practicing putting my baby in you—on a nice, comfortable bed this time.” He winks, pecking your cheek as he buttons his shirt and unbuckles his seatbelt.

You snort, rolling your eyes as you do the same. “Admit it, you like car sex.”

Jungkook hums nonchalantly, his cheeky grin giving him away. You chuckle, shaking your head at him, love radiating in every moment between you.

[moonlight-prose]

“please don’t make me say it if you aren’t going to say it back” with a desperately in love with joel reader would hit so much…

weaved around your finger like yarn

a/n: me writing for joel again?? this has sat in my inbox for over a year and i never meant to actually take this long with it. but i finally figured out how to write this concept. and now i am actually obsessed with the small world of softness i created for these two. this is yes jackson joel, but nothing bad happens ever to him because why would it? it's all fine right?

summary: he never made space in his life for love in the aftermath of destruction. the after of his life he once thought would extend past decades of gray hair, smile lines carved in around his mouth now set in frowns and sneers. but snowfall and alcohol blur the lines for both of you when winter comes to jackson.

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, love confessions, heavy makeout sessions, alcohol consumption, tipsy joel, sad joel, laughter at the end of the world, hope.

He can't remember laughing until his stomach hurt. The ache that spilled into his chest, warming his insides with a sun like quality that left him shivering. He can't recall the feel of his cheeks pulled so wide the sensation became a phantom pain seconds after. He knows it happened. He can distinctly recall the jokes, the joy. But the laughter lingers like a ghost at the back of his mind—translucent and gray and distorted enough to feel false.

Alcohol simmers in his stomach with a rueful intent. A malignant aftermath that would hit him in a few hours after two months of attempted sobriety. Ellie insisted, he accepted. Easy enough to say. Difficult to follow through with.

He had his days where whiskey sounded better than the flavor of bacon Tommy would bring him in the early mornings. But the dismay in your eyes helped him hold off, regain his awareness of a world not yet shattered. For once in quite a long time...he finally lived. For you, for Ellie, for Sarah.

He lived to see his hair grow longer and the grays appear more frequently. To drink coffee in the mornings on a porch you were already settled on. To help you fix small things here and there in your cabin next door. He lived for your smile, the light in your eyes. The curve of your lips as they pulled up into bolstering peals of laughter—the furrow in your brow as you frowned from endless frustrations on long hard days.

Joel Miller lived to love you.

He existed to dig his heels in and wait shit out—it's what he was good at, what he knew how to do. But for you he relented quicker than ice on a hot asphalt driveway back home in Texas. His mind became sand that slipped through your giving hands—heart a fluttering mess that sang a tune he could never get right on the guitar stashed in his living room.

Days bloomed into weeks which grew into months. Eventually a year passed and what used to be difficult and awkward to be around people again, felt like breathing the fresh winter air. The jackets he managed to find hung on hooks by the door, a pair of heavy boots beside the small table Tommy crafted him.

The mornings were nice. When hot water hit ground coffee and the aroma plagued his kitchen for hours at a time. The evenings called you towards him—simple cooking skills shared in the confines of a home he pined for you to reside in.

Life was a sliver of peace he never imagined he'd get again. But the hole in his heart never faded, the pain still rang out sharp enough to have him clamping down on the inside of his cheek. And your smile made his stomach ache with a longing deep enough to scar.

Tommy told him to buck up and do something. Ellie called him a fucking idiot.

You...gave no indication you felt the same way. So silent and reserved he would remain.

Your feet slid on icy, fingers gripping tightly to his jacket with a yelp in a quick attempt to save yourself from slamming to the ground. Joel snickered loud and brash and a wash of embarrassment burned under frozen cheeks. Dragging you up, his arm looped tightly around your waist—hand pressed harsh and insistent to the small of your back. You swallowed the butterflies at the sight of his face flushed red—eyes shining from the effect of too much whiskey.

"We were bad tonight," you muttered, breath forming a cloud between your faces.

He grinned—skin buzzing at the close proximity of your form. "Only a little bit."

"You're not supposed to drink Joel."

Leaning in he traded his smile like a secret; you tucked it into your chest with a sharp breath. "I won't tell if you don't, darlin'."

"Joel..."

"C'mon. No one's gettin' in trouble here."

A blade pierced your heart brutally—spilling crimson along pale white snow. Even as Joel remained entirely unaware of how you clung to him. How your body called his name—your mind plagued with thoughts of his being, with images of his smile, with the sound of his raspy voice. He'd never know the way you cherished each moment with him. The mornings tucked away from an unruly world—the nights shared between friends who might one day be more.

Your teeth scraped along the cracked skin of your bottom lip, eyes cast up to the curl of his lips. The words sprang forth faster than you could drag them back. Your chest of secrets unlocked and bared to the man who drowned you in his small flecks of joy. Later you'd blame the alcohol. When the headache ravaged your head and an ache lingered between your thighs.

Later you'd comb over every small glance and breathy word.

"I like spending time with you Joel," you breathed, fingers toying with the front of his leather coat. "I like...um..."

The breath caught in his throat, gaze desperate to catch yours. "Yeah sugar?"

"It's a hard thing to say." Another cloud of your whiskey tinged breath filled the air.

"You can tell me anythin'. You know that right?" Even as hope flared bright and scorching through the width of his chest. "I'll listen."

Hesitation spilled into the night, your voice a soft whisper he barely caught. "Please don't make me say it if you aren't going to say it back."

Oh didn't you know?

Did you not see how his gaze dug beneath the layers of flesh and bone, of tendons and veins that clung to your form? Did you not understand he would take a bullet for you? That he'd bear the wound of a warrior's death to keep you alive? How could you not know that his love stuck to his tongue with a saccharine bitterness he swallowed down like the drugs he once took to numb his mind?

You healed pieces of his soul you never broke. A marred and fucked puzzle that was meant to find a home six feet underground. By his own hand no less. He was destined to die—born to suffer—yet you swathed him wool with the promise of a peaceful life.

A future etched by the hands of love.

"Say it," he pleaded, frozen hand cupping your cheek.

"It's more than just that." The breath you took shot adrenaline down his spine. "I like our mornings. I like our dinners and conversation. And even when you come into town with me. But I...I love..."

The glossy nature of your eyes created by unshed tears that pooled at your waterline dug the knife deep enough to meld it within his heart. You didn't know. You couldn't have. His silence, his hesitation, swallowed every emotion he might have told you—every secret uttered in the shadows of night that told only half his story.

He told you about Sarah. About their life together, about her smile. That in itself felt like a proclamation of love—a key to the heart he thought stopped beating long ago.

"I knew it would freak you out," you muttered, pulling away from his hold.

Only for him to panic. His hand gripped the back of your jacket, pushing you towards him hard enough for your feet to slip again. But your gasp was swallowed by the cold press of his mouth to yours. Lips chapped by the winter air slid against your parted mouth as you froze against his chest. Your hands hung listlessly at your sides. He kissed you tenderly, attempting to wake you from the spell of shock, but to no avail did it bring you back.

"'M sorry." His words were muffled against your chin, forehead pressed to yours and eyes squeezed shut. "I shouldn't have–"

The press of your fingers into his cheeks jolted him back—eyes wide as you dragged him back with a stifled moan. Your mouth found his tongue hot and wet along his bottom lip in a pleading motion he complied to instantly. Stepping forward he fell into you with a deep groan. One that echoed and vibrated right down to your stomach—one you savored with a lick along his back teeth.

Hands cupped your ass with an insistent need to mold you closer, fingers digging into the plush flesh he longed to bite and taste. You tasted like whiskey. You smelled like him. It made him dizzy with want, anxious to lead you back to his porch—to seat you on his kitchen counter in the mornings while the coffee went cold.

"Fuck I wanna take ya home sugar," he grunted, biting at your lower lip with a grin.

Your breathless reply made the hair stand on the back of his neck. "You can."

"No." He shook his head, stealing another kiss with a gritty moan. "Not tonight. 'M gonna do this proper."

"Proper," you smiled, tugging on the longer curls you refused to let him cut. "You're such an old man Miller."

The large breadth of his hand cupped your chin, pushing the cheeks he lightly bit into together. "Won't be sayin' that tomorrow when I ain't got all this fuckin' alcohol in me."

"Yeah?" The droop of your eyelids—the darkened iris now filled with lust—set his teeth on edge. His body hummed with a new buzz he craved since meeting you. "Prove it."

"Oh I will." He grinned sharply, licking his teeth like a wolf waiting to pounce. "Don't you worry 'bout that."

A glimmer in your eyes caught his attention, the grip on your face loosening. "You know I love you right darlin'?"

You smiled—big and bright—and Joel felt another piece of his soul set back into place. "I love you too Joel."