#when love goes too far and turns into something else

[mercurial-chuckles]

Permanence

Part 01: Echoes of Reverie

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader x Bucky Barnes | Stucky x F!Reader Warnings: Fluff | Angst | Yearning | Mutual Pining | Poly relation | Eventual Smut Galore | Eventual Fluff Galore | ~1.5k | Canon divergent | Happy ending (it's me!) | Kept the warnings basic 'coz I don't wanna reveal a lot | Unbeta'd | Lemme know if I'm missing anything. A/N: This is based on a request. The OC version of this story will run in parallel, but since I got quite a few requests for a reader version, here it goes! Hope you enjoy! ✨ Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner and Divider made by me in Canva. Picture credits to the internet! Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

Indulge Away!

New York City, 2011

Steve felt a little queasy. Maybe skipping breakfast wasn't the best idea. But he was too excited to care. Watching the game with you and Bucky, especially from the incredible seats Mr. Barnes had scored for them, was more than enough to keep his spirits high.

Curveball. High and outside for ball one.

It was a pleasant day. The bright blue summer sky gleamed, cloudless, and Steve was so happy, that he was practically floating on cloud nine. He felt strange though, like he'd lived through this memory countless times, and yet, he didn't want it to end.

"Hey, give 'em to me, punk. You gonna eat it all?" Bucky's voice rang loud in his ear, right as he yanked the fries out of Steve's hand.

"Let him eat, Buck," You grumbled. You reached over, snatched the fries back from Bucky's grip, and handed it to Steve, your fingers brushing his. Then, the little menace that you were, you dipped into the fries Steve had been cradling and stole a few for yourself.

"Hey, now. I said I'd buy extra," Steve teased, holding the fries behind him far from your reach with a smirk that made you squint at him in mock irritation.

"Guess you'll have to make that run anyway, punk," Bucky laughed, nudging him. Steve turned only to find a little kid who'd wandered over and taken a fistful of his fries, grinning up at him. Steve chuckled and gave him the rest.

"Sharing your food? You might be the kindest man I've ever met," you said, with that beautiful smile that never failed to make his heart flutter. Bucky caught his gaze and winked, grinning like a devil. Steve felt his face flush, heat creeping up his neck.

"Shut up," Steve muttered turning his focus to the field, but his mind was on the two people beside him.

Steve leaned back into the warmth beside him, Bucky's shoulder solid against him. You clutched Steve's other arm, your fingers laced with his own, eyes fixed on the game. This was his home. The game in the background, the cheer of the crowd, and the two people he loved on either side. Perfect.

But there was that queasy sensation again. Steve shifted, and for a moment, he thought he felt something soft pressing against his head.

Suddenly, he was no longer in Ebbets field.

.

.

It was another day.

You sat beside him on the windowsill of his apartment, squeezing his shoulder lightly, assuring.

"You've got me, Steve. Bucky will be fine," you said, but he could sense you didn't believe that either, but he held onto your hand tightly. You leaned your head onto his shoulder, staring at the Hudson, watching boats float by.

Something felt off.

Was he dreaming?

.

.

His surroundings shifted to that dreadful afternoon when he received the letter with a small pocket watch and a tiny feather. You left him. You left him. He cried unbothered as he read the letter sitting on that wobbly chair in Chicago's USO tour. Steve felt his world close in.

It all faded again, and then he was somewhere else. Bucky beside him in his uniform. A bar. 'Listen to me, Steve. Once this is over, we're gonna find her,' Steve could only nod at the conviction in Bucky's voice as he stared at Bucky's raging blues.

"Steve," Bucky's voice became more muffled this time.

What's that noise? A train? He was on a train. He was on the train.

"STEVE."

"BUCKY…Buck...hold on."

Bucky looked up at him silently, fearfully. He lost the grip on the bar and Steve couldn't reach him in time.

Bucky fell, and Steve jumped after him.

~

Steve's eyes flickered open. He blinked a few times; the pale white ceiling came into focus. He frowned. He was in a room. Everything came to him at light speed. The memory of him crashing into the water, thoughts of Bucky and you before he felt the cold seep through, lulling him unconscious.

So, the Dodgers are tied, 4-4.

But he was there at the game. Then why was it being broadcast? Something wasn't right.

And the crowd well knows that with one swing of his bat, this fellow's capable of making it a brand-new game again.

Steve remembered Bucky and him assuring you that the game would turn.

Just an absolutely gorgeous day here at Ebbets Field.

It was. Steve knew that. He remembered filling pages and pages of memories from that day. You looked gorgeous in that white dress, with faded prints of lilacs and poppy flowers, spattered across your dress. Bucky wore a much darker shade of blue shirt than him. Bucky looked so young and handsome.

Steve felt the softness of the bed, the light sifting through the window too bright as his focus shifted to the room around. It looked like a hospital room, the fancier kind. The radio looked familiar, and the flowers smelled fresh, too.

The Phillies have managed to tie it up at 4-4. But the Dodgers have three men on.

The memory of crashing into the arctic water rushed into the forefront of his mind, and he mentally scanned his body, but the pain was the last thing he felt.

Pearson beaned Resiser in Philadelphia last month.

Steve vividly remembered the day. Dodgers win. You, him and Bucky had gone to the little Italian place two blocks from Ebbets Field after the game. His memory was sharp, and it was that game, the day that remained one of his most treasured memories.

Something was terribly off. Where was he? Did he die? Was this some afterlife thing? Would he find Bucky like he thought? Would you be here?

Wouldn't the youngster like a hit here to return the favor? Pete leans in. Here's the pitch.

Steve's enhanced hearing picked up noises from outside the room. Kids playing, some buzzing, cars running, two people talking outside.

'What are you doing here, agent?'

'Vitals?'

'Agent.' Steve picked up from the conversation. Was this Hydra?

Steve turned back to see the potential exits. The window seemed possible, but something was wrong. He could see the people in the building, but they were blurred and moving in a loop.

Swung on. A line to the right. And it gets past Rizzo.

'Stay alert,' he heard from outside the door. Footsteps approached the door, and Steve's heart picked up.

Three runs will score. Reiser heads to third. Durocher's going to wave him in. Here comes the relay, but they won't get him.

The door opened, and a woman entered.

"Good morning," she smiled, closing the door and standing near it, blocking. "Or should I say afternoon?" Steve gathered she was an American. Was this the agent?

"Where am I?" He asked, his throat felt rough, unused. He needed water.

"You're in a recovery room in New York City," she said.

The Dodgers take the lead, 8-4. Oh, Dodgers!

Steve heard a distant whistle and turned to look through the window again, nothing had changed.

Everyone is on their feet! What a game we have here today, folks! What a game, indeed.

The woman was lying clearly.

"Where am I really?" Steve asked again, listening intently to the conversation outside. He could hear men talking, walking closer.

"I'm afraid I don't understand." She said.

"The game. It's from May 1941. I know, 'coz I was there." Steve told her firmly. "Now, I'm gonna ask you again. Where am I?" Steve could sense her fear, and he noticed her hand flicking to something behind. Was it a weapon? He could jump out of the windows, but those windows didn't seem right to him. The door was the only option.

"Captain Rogers…"

Steve heard more footsteps and hurried voices.

"Who are you?" Steve yelled.

The door opened, and two men entered, and Steve punched them right through the door before they approached. They went flying and fell into the hallway, cracking open the whole space.

The room was a setup. Where the hell was he?

Was it Hydra? But how could that be possible? Did they find him?

Doors burst open as he charged through level after level of the mysterious, clinical-looking facility.

Something was terribly wrong. Where was he? Was this Hydra? Did they capture him after all? He most definitely didn't feel this was an afterlife.

'All agents, code 13!' He heard through the speakers. He dashed through the double doors and there were more men in suits. He saw two armed men on the end, and Steve took off through the other end of the hallway and out through the exit.

Shit. Shit.

He ran as fast as he could, but his steps faltered as he took in his surroundings.

His mind exploded. Lights in broad daylight. Massive screens. Towering buildings. Crowds. Noise.

Steve stood frozen. This was wrong.

His breathing quickened. A thousand questions flooded his mind, memories clashing with the overwhelming reality before him. Too many people. Crowd. Loud. Honking.

What were those? Cars? They looked different.

"At ease, Soldier," he heard. A man with an eye patch approached. Steve's thoughts went berserk. Who was he? Should he punch the other eye and run for it?

"Look. I'm sorry about the little show back there, but," the man started speaking, sighing before he continued, "We thought it best to break it to you slowly." He said.

"Break what?" Steve asked, confused out of his wits.

"You've been asleep, Cap. For almost 70 years," he said.

Steve felt his ground shift.

No.

No.

No.

When he took down the jet, Steve felt an eerie kind of peace. In his final moments, he let himself believe he'd saved you, along with the countless others who'd never known him. It was poetic, really. He'd taken the serum for you, after all. For a chance at a future he was never granted, and maybe--just maybe--he'd see Bucky again if there was an afterlife. Fate, however, deemed he needed to simply suffer.

"You gonna be okay?" The man asked.

Steve said nothing as melancholy settled thickly in his mind.

What would he do in a world without you and Bucky?

Fic-a-boo Part 02: Distressing Transience Bucky dreaded love more than he ever feared Hydra. While he mourned the love he had lost--Steve--he also mourned not being the kind of man you deserved.    The way you saved him persistently, and resurrected him after Hydra, with years and years of patience. It was beyond his understanding. Gosh! You could totally beat Steve when it came to being stubborn. He watched you, relaxed in his arms, deep in sleep. His Angel!

If you wanna be tagged in my works, add yourself here. <3

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[faithschaoschronicles]

The bet||Joaquin Torres x Fem!reader

Summary— y/n and Joaquin have feelings for each other but refuses to acknowledge it until the bet.

Word count—1862

A/n — @ice-man-goes-bwoah is my main account

This is a crack fic

The post-mission high was strong; the team was sprawled across the Avengers Compound common room like war heroes who had just returned from battle, which, to be fair, they kind of had. Pizza boxes covered every flat surface, Sam was DJ’ing from his phone with questionable taste, and someone had brought out a half-deflated exercise ball that Bucky refused to stop sitting on.

You lounged on the couch, legs stretched across Joaquin Torres’ lap, flipping through your phone as he absentmindedly traced shapes on your shin. It was comfortable. Familiar. Platonic.

Except everyone kept acting like it wasn’t.

“You know,” Sam started, voice raised just enough to cut through the noise. “I’m gonna say it. You two are exhausting.”

You looked up. “Us?”

Joaquin blinked. “What’d we do?”

“You exist like you’re in a Hallmark slow-burn,” Sam said. “All the longing looks and accidental touches. Just kiss already and spare us the pain.”

You and Joaquin exchanged a confused glance, followed by twin eye-rolls.

“Are you serious?” you asked, half-laughing.

Natasha didn’t even glance up from where she was cleaning her nails with a throwing knife. “He’s very serious. There’s a betting pool.”

Joaquin’s head snapped toward her. “What?”

“There’s what now?” you added, sitting up slightly.

“A bet,” Steve said from his armchair. “Started a couple of months ago. We’ve all got a date picked for when you two finally stop pretending you’re just friends.”

Sam waved a piece of paper in the air. “I had today, but I’m about to lose five bucks because this isn’t the moment.”

“Wait,” you said, eyes narrowing. “Who else is in on this?”

Bucky raised his hand. “I picked next Tuesday. Midnight. Training room.”

“Tony has his money on your next mission debrief,” Natasha said. “Something about adrenaline and emotional vulnerability.”

“Rhodey’s betting on Thanksgiving,” Steve added. “He’s an optimist.”

“Clint has two days from now on the kitchen”

You gaped. “You guys are gambling on our love lives.”

Joaquin let out a low whistle. “Should we be flattered or… deeply concerned?”

“I'm concerned,” you muttered.

Then, slowly, you turned to look at him. He met your gaze, and a wicked grin spread across your face.

He blinked. “Oh no. I know that look.” He thought

“We’re going to mess with them,” you said in his mind, already sitting up straighter.

Joaquin’s grin grew to match yours. “Oh, hell yes.”

Day One: Subtle Sabotage

You started with the basics—harmless, flirty little pokes at your unsuspecting teammates.

You leaned in closer during briefings. Touched Joaquin’s arm when you spoke. Giggled at things that weren’t that funny. He started calling you querida in front of Steve and held eye contact just a beat too long whenever you handed him anything.

By lunchtime, Sam was visibly sweating.

That night during movie night, you fell asleep on Joaquin’s shoulder. Well—“fell asleep.” You peeked through your lashes when Nat elbowed Bucky and whispered, “It’s happening.”

The next morning, Tony sent out a team-wide email with an updated odds chart.

You printed it out and put it on the fridge.

Day Three: Almost

The hallway was quiet Dimly lit. Empty, except for you and Joaquin, standing dangerously close in the kitchen as you reached for a mug on the top shelf.

“I got it,” he said, moving behind you, warm breath against your neck.

“Thanks,” you said, and turned—far too close, your face inches from his.

You both froze. Stared at each other like this was finally it.

Then, at the last second, you smirked.

“Oh,” you said, stepping aside, “we’re out of creamer.”

Joaquin’s face stayed blank as he deadpanned to the corner of the room: “That one was for you, Clint.”

A loud, muffled scream sounded through the vents.

You high-fived and went about your morning like nothing happened.

You knew what tonight was.

Bucky had been annoyingly smug all week, tossing around comments like “Midnight’s gonna be real interesting,” and “Don’t stay up on my account—unless you’re planning to kiss him right on schedule.”

So naturally, you and Joaquin decided to throw gas on the fire.

The digital clock in the training room blinked 11:57 PM as you walked in, dressed in joggers and a tank top. You found Joaquin already stretching on the mat, shirt sticking slightly to his back, hair tousled, smirking like he’d been waiting to cause trouble.

“Right on time,” he said, voice warm. “Midnight madness?”

“Let’s give Barnes a heart attack.”

Joaquin grinned. “He’s watching.”

Above you, through the tiny black dome of the corner security cam, you imagined Natasha and Sam crowded around the monitor with popcorn, Steve pretending not to care, and Bucky sitting back with his arms crossed like he already had this victory in the bag.

You stepped onto the mat and started circling Joaquin.

“First to pin the other?” you offered.

“Winner gets to mess with Bucky’s ego.”

“Oh, so we both win.”

You lunged—Joaquin countered, grabbed your wrist, spun you around, and suddenly his chest was at your back, breath grazing your cheek.

“Careful,” he murmured. “That was sloppy.”

“So are you,” you shot back, then flipped him over your shoulder. He landed hard on the mat, wheezing a laugh.

He looked up at you, grinning. “Hot.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“You’re smiling.”

You were.

The second you straddled him to “pin” him again, something shifted. The smirking stopped. His hands steadied at your waist, eyes meeting yours—clear, intense, a little uncertain.

“Are we still faking it?” he asked softly.

You froze.

The air between you was tight and full of every not-so-innocent touch you’d shared the past week. Every inside joke. Every almost-kiss. You didn’t feel like pretending anymore.

“I’m not sure we were,” you admitted.

Joaquin’s thumb brushed your cheek. “Then let’s stop pretending.”

You were straddling Joaquin, sweat-slicked and flushed, his hands curled around your waist. The air between you buzzed—too hot, too close, too full of every unspoken thing you’d been ignoring for weeks. His lips parted like he was about to say something… and instead, he just stared up at you like you were the only person on Earth.

It hit you then: You could kiss him. Right now. For real.

You leaned in, slow and sure, watching his eyes drop to your mouth. Just a few more inches and—

“Nope,” he muttered suddenly, and before your brain caught up, he twisted his hips and threw you off him, flipping you flat onto your back in one clean move.

“WHAT THE HELL—” you yelped, as he pinned your wrists to the mat, grinning like a man who had just declared war.

“Timing’s everything, mi vida,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. “And Bucky still has sixty seconds to suffer.”

You stared up at him, stunned—and then burst out laughing.

Down the hallway, barely muffled by the compound walls, came a distant, echoing scream. Somewhere between rage and heartbreak.

Joaquin leaned his head against your shoulder, giggling like an absolute menace.

A second later, both your phones dinged in sync.

Then again.

And again.

You groaned, reaching for your phone with one hand still pinned. Notifications exploded across the screen

BUCKY B.:ARE YOU KIDDING ME

BUCKY B.:I HAD MIDNIGHT EXACTLY

BUCKY B.: YOU ALMOST KISS HER AT 12:01??

BUCKY B.: SON OF A BITCH

BUCKY B.:I HATE BOTH OF YOU

SAM W.: lololol

NATASHA R.:Tell him it was 12:03. Really mess him up.

STEVE R.:I told you betting on people’s emotions was unhealthy, Buck.

BUCKY B.:unhealthy is what I’m gonna be when I MURDER THEM

BUCKY B.: SLOW BURN MY ASS

You dropped your phone onto the mat and howled with laughter. Joaquin collapsed next to you, one hand behind his head, chest still heaving from the sparring—or the emotional whiplash.

“You really flipped me for timing?”

He looked proud. “I take winning very seriously.”

“You are unbelievable.”

“You love it.”

You rolled toward him, resting your forehead against his. “I really, really do.”

And then, finally, you kissed him…on the cheek.

No games. No audience. Just you, him, and the very satisfying sound of Bucky losing a bet and his mind.

You pulled away, forehead to Joaquin’s, laughing.

“Was that—”

“Bucky,” you both said at the same time.

The Morning After Bucky stormed into the kitchen at 9:00 AM sharp, looking personally victimized.

“You two,” he barked, stabbing a spoon into his oatmeal, “owe me twenty bucks and peace of mind.”

You grinned over your mug. “For what?”

“For almost kissing exactly when I said you would. Training room. Midnight. I called it.”

“Actually,” Joaquin said, sliding in beside you with a slice of toast, “it was 12:03 when we almost kissed.”

Bucky blinked. “Liar.”

“Security logs don’t lie,” Natasha said, holding up her tablet without looking away from her coffee.

Sam clutched the counter, wheezing.

“You played me,” Bucky muttered. “I feel betrayed. You were my slow burn.”

You winked. “Better luck next time, Barnes.”

Joaquin leaned in to whisper, “Want to pretend we broke up and get him to bet again?”

You beamed. “Now that’s teamwork.”

Day Seven: Late Night Truths

You wandered the halls at 2 a.m., unable to sleep. The compound was silent, all sharp edges and quiet shadows.

Then—footsteps.

You turned a corner and nearly walked straight into Joaquin, barefoot, hoodie on, hair tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” you asked.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Too much on my mind.”

You leaned against the wall across from him. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

He gave you a slow, tired smile. “That we’ve been pretending so hard not to feel something that we’ve completely screwed ourselves over?”

You blinked. “Okay. So maybe you’re thinking a little more than I was.”

He stepped closer. “This was supposed to be a joke. A game.”

“It stopped feeling like one,” you admitted, voice softer now.

A pause.

“Should we just… kiss already?” you asked, watching his expression carefully. “Not for the bet. Just… for us?”

He tilted his head, considering. “Do we still get to laugh at everyone after?”

“Absolutely.”

Joaquin smiled, then leaned in, slow and sure, until his lips met yours.

The kiss was warm. Familiar. Electric in a way you hadn’t let yourself imagine until now.

When you pulled apart, you were both smiling like idiots.

“Bet on it,” he whispered.

The next morning, you and Joaquin strolled into the common room hand-in-hand like it was no big deal.

Sam choked on his coffee. “WHAT.”

Bucky looked betrayed. “You kissed off-camera?!”

“We don’t perform on command,” you said, smug.

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “When?”

You shrugged. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Tony groaned and deleted something off his tablet. “Well, there goes my weekend.”

Steve just looked relieved. “I was running out of ways to tell people it was none of their business.”

As the chaos unfolded, you turned to Joaquin and whispered, “You know they’re going to double down on bets now.”

He grinned. “Then we better give them nothing.”

You high-fived again. This time, you followed it with another kiss.

Just to be extra annoying.

[alexanderlightweight]

Wednesdays are quickly becoming my favorite day of the week because of you!

I would love to request an Outside POV in the universe of your choice- specifically Alec's Shadowhunters observing their BAMF Commander be utterly delighted to be claimed by Magnus in whatever manner you choose. (Purely happy reactions only por favor, no shame/disdain.)

No preference as to nsfw/sfw. Hope you are having a great week!

this is Mirai being utterly delighted she's also just utterly competent and takes care of things even as shes clapping internally.

i hope you enjoy this btw, this is outside pov and my week is getting better so thank you <3 I hope you're having a good week too!

this is the first time Magnus visits Alec in the Institute in this verse btw. they're not yet dating. Magnus just knows what he wants and Alec is like 'yes. please and thank you. everyone else fuck off'.

this is in feral sweetness, like honeycomb and it's been a while since i've written in that verse so here is the first part and this is the part shortly after this piece i'm posting. though it was written first and this is part like three weeks after they start dating. because to be clear, Magnus and Alec aren't officially dating yet in this bit. they're just circling each other like buzzards over a carcass right now.... in a romantic way I swear.

<3 lumine

feral sweetness, like honeycomb

Mirai watches Alec grin at a fire message and sighs, mentally readjusting her night.

That kind of a grin never means anything but trouble and Mirai has a feeling said trouble will be coming in hot.

It turns out to be more true than she realizes when several hours later, Magnus Bane walks into the Institute. Still sparking hellfire from whatever battle he’s fresh off of and looking just as deadly as he did three days ago.

The alarms stay silent and Mirai pats herself on the back at foreseeing and getting ahead of this problem. Especially because Bane is so focused on Alec that she really doubts the sirens would do anything but annoy him.

Alec knows he’s there, but he’s also in the middle of explaining a very intricate protocol and so all he does is flicker his hand towards Bane. What no one but Mirai expects is that Bane will take that as the permission it is and just step into Alec’s space.  He claims it like it belongs to him. As if the air touching Alec is only there because he allows it and now that he’s here, it has no right to touch him with Bane close enough to do so.

Alec’s still talking, one hand pointing to the diagram on the screen and the other just petting over the arm wrapped around his waist.  Bane is holding him like he’s a toy and Alec just continues on, either doing a good job at pretending or truly ignorant to the fact that his students aren’t retaining a single thing he’s saying.

Mirai is pleased though, because with Bane here it will deter any of the new recruits from harboring thoughts above their station.  Like the possibility that they can seduce Alec, which never goes well for them or their spines.

Bane’s claim will deter them, because no one wants to mess with a warlock that is this terrifyingly powerful. Furthermore, no one is going to risk upsetting Alec, when Bane puts a smile as soft as silk and far more delicate on Alec’s face.

As far as Mirai knows, this is still only the second time they've met in person and yet Alec is acting like Bane is the air that keeps his lungs working.

Kaleb mutters next to her and marks something down on his tablet.

“I’m going to need to get his biometrics and scan him into the system, aren’t I? I heard how Alec reacted at the battle but this...” Kaleb trails off and goes back to watching the two of them.

It’s less of a burden and more of a complication, as Mirai is aware of how tricky and fiddly the system is. Especially when you bring magic into the equation, it's still better to deal with it quickly than let it become a problem.

“Think this means Alec will finally take his mandatory time off?” Kaleb asks and Mirai thinks that maybe, it actually will end up happening. Despite the fact that it hasn’t happened in the last three years.

“I think Alec won’t have a choice in taking time off.” Mirai hides a smirk and watches how Alec has finally either finished his lecture or finally given up. Considering that her Commander is currently talking to Bane in a position that is far closer and more intimate than mere conversation requires, Mirai figures he just got bored.

 Alec is still in Bane’s arms but they’re chest to chest now and Alec is laughing quietly at whatever Bane's saying, his own arms equally tangled around the warlock.

Mirai doesn’t think she’s seen so many positive emotions on Alec’s face in such a short amount of time before and it’s with resolve that she turns to Kaleb.

“I’ll send a fire message to Bane later. He’s been receptive to messages from us thanks to Alec. Alec can just add him to the system personally and do the scans necessary in private if we set it up correctly. I think they’ll both thank us and there’s no need for you to risk yourself.” Mirai really doubts that Bane will want any shadowhunter besides Alec in his personal space and there’s no reason Alec can’t do it himself, even if it’s not his usual job.

Mirai will take on whatever work gets shoved to the side from the meeting and Kaleb and Andrew can pick up whatever slack she creates.  It’s the best way to keep this moving forward. Not a single shadowhunter under Alec’s command who was on the battlefield when Alec and Magnus met disagree either, that prioritizing Alec’s new relationship is necessary.

For the good of the Institute. 

-

AN:

Alec's entire chain of command is like: ... he can relax the commander?? he needs to stay. forever.

[senieni]

Park Sunghoon × Reader

Notes : angst, lovers to exes to strangers, bittersweet ending, idol!sunghoon, fast-paced, both have reasons, everyone gets hurt at one point, communication is the key people gosh, 10 to none dialogues, more on narration

a depiction of what's it like to lose the spark and slowly lose everything of what had been there in silence

How Can You Look At Me And Pretend I'm Someone You've Never Met ?

ENHYPEN MSTRLIST

Maybe it was your fault. Or maybe it was his. Honestly, you can't even remember anymore. Where it started, when it started, how it started.

"See, this is why I told you not to push it, you idiot!" You gently scold the boy, carefully putting ointment on his ankle. His fall on the ice had been a bit bad, the sprain was worse because it had already been hurting and he just had to push himself still.

He groans. "C'mon, it's not that bad—no it's bad! It's bad, so don't do it!" He pleads as your hand threatens to slap his ankle to prove your point.

You fake a scowl and brought your hand to tap gently at his ankle, his foot recoiling in reflex. "We'll have a movie and foodie night instead."

"As you wish, I'll make it up next week, love." He chuckles and leans it to peck your lips, earning a smile from you and a wider one from him.

the devil in your eyes,

2 years ago you would never believe you if you told her it would end up like it. She'd cry and he will console her, whispering how absurd it was and promising sugarcoated words that would end up nowhere.

"You... you're giving up figure skating?" You stared at your Sunghoon in disbelief. Was the world ending? There was no way in the seven pits of hell and seven thousand multiverses your ice obsessed boyfriend would ever stop skating.

He smiled sheepishly, but confident. "I figured I would try something new but sure. I think being an idol would suit me as well as good as figure skating too. It's interesting, besides, my looks alone already pass doesn't it?" He wiggles his eyebrows and smiles smugly.

Your eyebrows twitch. "You— that's not the point! Why now? You're almost at the peak, love, why turn it down now? Did something happen?" You know it's not a bad thing to try something new, and your boyfriend had every right to change his mind if he wants, it's his life, but figure skating had been his life since he was a child, your concerns go beyond what interests him.

He smiles fondly at your worry and ruffles your hair. "Nothing happened, love. This just... I don't know how to explain it. It's calling me, [Name]." He says with eyes full of determination and passion, and you can't disagree.

But something about it makes you feel uneasy.

won't deny the lies

But the present you couldn't even care anymore. At least that's what you forced yourself to do. You couldn't, because if you did, you'd end up ruining yourself. So you stopped.

"Holyshit, I actually got accepted." He shakes his head as he laughs, looking at the invitation letter in his hand.

The uneasiness inside you begins to clot again, but you force it down, not even knowing why it's there. "You say that after all the ego boost for yourself?" You pinch his nose.

He shrugs with a wide grin. "What can I say, charms through and through." You both share a laugh at his usual remarks.

You share his pain throughout the whole hell months of I-Land too. You shared his rants, his frustrations, his vents, his cries, his laughs, his improvements, his new friends, his determination, his persistence, and his passion. You've witnessed it all. His hardwork. The respect and spot he earned.

The smile you wore when he secured his final spot wasn't out of pure happiness for your boyfriend. Sure, you were happy and proud of him for coming and enduring this far, but there was something else.

Guilt.

As his time goes by in I-Land, your uneasiness grows with him. There was something about the thought of him becoming an idol that made you want to vomit. You couldn't place it. You couldn't think of any serious reason why. You tried placing it as just some worry because your dynamics will have to change, but something inside you knew something else was coming.

And it brought tears to your eyes as you clapped for him.

you've sold, i'm holding on too tight

Enhypen was a success. Their debut and overall current standing was smooth sailing and a huge hit. You were happy for them, really.

Belift and Hybe agreed to let you continue your relationship under the condition that you must never meet personally and continue being long distance. It was a hard decision to make, but it was your best shot, better than nothing, so you both took it, settling for calls and messages. You had no complains, everything was going smoothly.

You were happy. The uneasiness didn't bother you much anymore. It was still there, lingering, but wasn't a bother, so you dismissed it as just baseless worry for Hoon. Everything is okay afterall.

Until it proved you wrong.

There it was, the start. With Enhypen's growing fame comes with their growing schedules. Come one, well knew it was coming, inevitable, you understood that from day one. You didn't have any problem with your boyfriend's busy schedule as long as you'd still be together. You could deal with less calls and texts.

But that was the problem.

At first, you thought you were just overreacting because you got a bit used to always getting called after a shoot, Sunghoon would even bring along other members sometimes. The rowdy boys would always tell you how happy they were that this new brand and show collabed with them and how nervous they were. A few minutes later he would kick them out to have some alone times with you and he would tell you every fascination he had with his new idol life. He would tell you every ups and downs, you would see every tear that dripped from his precious eyes and you would console him and remind him of his hardwork. You would be his anchor.

You saw the stars in his eyes whenever he talks about his job, his passion, his newfound dream. Not even figure skating had him in this kind of chokehold.

Until those stories became summarized, the summarized became the name of the brand or the show, the names became 'another shoot', and the shoot became 'how are yous' and 'make sure to eats'. The first few times were easy to let go. You understood it came with their growing schedules, you couldn't blame him for being too tired because they were just starting to get used to being that busy. They don't have the original stamina to keep up with so many things to do. And so you left it alone. You hung up when he says he's tired, when his eyes drop, when he sighs, as a way of letting him rest.

It wasn't until your friend had asked how Sunghoon was that you realized something.

"I've been seeing Enhypen all over the city now too, gosh, you must be so proud!" Your friend gushes at you.

"Ofcourse I am, they've earned this. If they weren't all over the city I would've given them a virtual beating." You laughed and joked.

"In any case, how's Sunghoon, with all these, he must be really busy, huh?" Another asks.

You smiled at them and waved a hand. "Yeah, he's tired and busy."

"Not that, silly. Ofcourse we know he's tired and busy, that's common and usual idol stuff. I meant, any new particular stuff? How are the two or you going?" Your friend laughs and wiggles her eyebrows.

That made you pause.

"How would she know what's going on in his stuff, he's the idol, not her, duh!"

"Well, she's not just 'her', she's the girlfriend, duh! Besides, it doesn't have to be idol stuff, we wouldn't know anything about that anyway. I wanna know if there's anything new in their relationship with this new dynamic."

"Tone it down, girl! An idol's life is supposed to be private, she's not supposed to share anything, including their relationship!"

"Sorry, it's just that before, she always knew something eventhough she doesn't tell us. We would at least get bits and pieces, I got too nosy, sorry."

Everything they said was a jab to you. The uneasiness grinned upon you again and swam around your stomach. Your throat ran dry.

You knew nothing at all.

She wasn't wrong, infact, she was completely right. Before, you always knew something, you knew everything, so what now? You didn't even notice the change because you were so busy understanding and thinking Sunghoon was tired.

Everything suddenly came crashing down to you. Your mind was in shambles, critiquing, analyzing, asking, looking for answers.

When was the last time you knew what happened in his day? A month or two ago? When was the last time you knew what he ate for lunch? When was the last time he confided in you? When was the last time you told him about your day? When was the last time you had a proper conversation? When was the last time he had asked you about you? When was the last time he looked at you, said he loves you and looked liked he meant it? When was the last time you've had a conversation that lasted more than 10 minutes? When was the last time you saw him smile? Oh, that last question can be crossed out, afterall, you're seeing him smile right now.

In TV, at his fans.

You don't notice the tear that drops on your cheek. Your lips unconsciously form a smile, it was shaking. Your mind was spiraling around, thrashing, the relationship you've built over these year threatening shaking. But you keep the smile. How could you not?

He looks so happy.

His smile does not only reach ear to ear, it reaches his eyes. His eyes are smiling, they're sparkling. He's glowing with happiness, he's radiating success and hardwork.

So how can you feel anything but pride for him?

And so the pit in your stomach reaches and grips your throat.

while you let go, this is casual

"Sunghoon, how was today? I saw the meet, there were so many people. Must be extra tiring." You start, setting down a cup of coffee opening your notes.

And only now do you also notice the loss of the precious petnames that used to always make your stomach churn with butterflies. It makes you pause before turning the page as if it's nothing. As if this is nothing.

How long can you pretend your relationship isn't turning to nothing too?

"Mhmm..." You hear rustling against his mic as he hums, it echoes. He must be in the bathroom.

"Are you in the bathroom? Getting ready for bed?"

He hums again.

No matter how much you tried to recall the details, you can't seem to. It wasn't like there was much to remember. It had been quiet. Too quiet. Almost like your relationship hadn't existed in the first place.

Because there had never been an official break up. There had never been a confrontation. You both just slowly drifted from each other until there was nothing but silence and a ghost of what had been.

You can barely remember how it transpired. The thoughts that ate you away as you tried navigating through your relationship with him. How you didn't even know how he looked like until the release of their new song and comeback.

How you realized you were nothing more than a fan in a label.

How you stared and waited for him while he was out there living his dream, his life. And you were there, trying to wait for what? And so you realized no one and nothing was gonna wait for you.

So you kept yourself together until the one-sided relationship crumbled none.

The saddest part? Both of you didn't seem to care anymore.

You smile bitterly at the thought. It wasn't as if you just forgot and moved on from it. You were bound to never fully move forward from it when it was never settled in the first place. But you learned to live with it, and continued to live as you please.

Seems cold, no? But this is life, it's not gonna wait for anyone to get over something before it makes time fly again. It will keep spinning and going no matter what, you don't have a choice but move along with it. The bitterness is there, the pain lingers, it will still hurt at times, it was never bound to go away with the way things went, but there is nothing you can do live with the decision you made.

In your defense, what could you have done? Should you have confronted him and cried? Begged to fix what was already set? Make a mess of what's already a stack? The relationship once built out of laughter and happiness turned into eerie silence where no one wanted to address anything. You weren't sure you could bear to break that silence and turn it into a more painful series of words, you couldn't bring yourself to dirty the happy memories you once had. And so you kept your silence and just disappeared.

That silence haunted you 'till now, but you cannot bring yourself to care anymore. Let it be there, as long as you can go your life, because you cannot wait again. You cannot stare at someone living their dreams while you make that someone your dream, a dream built on blind faith.

Was it selfish and stupid that you neither broke up nor say anything to him and just left? Maybe. You were young and just lost your first love, you were tormented by the happy memories and torn between breaking up and becoming strangers once again, or risking it and try staying as acquaintances. But at the same time, how could you even have the choice to stay friends when you were already a stranger inside the relationship?

How could you choose to be friends when you've already been something more and ended in nothingness?

how can we go back to being friends when we just shared a bed?

And so you just left because either way, you'll be strangers with memories.

When Sunghoon sees you again in person, not in TV or billboards, he doesn't expect it to be emotional or dramatic.

He almost laughs, why would that even be an option when both of you were closer to horror than melodrama with the ghost of a relationship you had. A stupid thought.

When he sees you walking the same red carpet he and his members walked on earlier, the first thought that crossed his mind was how you ended up in a similar industry as his when you majored a different program. But he guesses people change, he was one of those people, afterall.

When he sees you getting flashed by hundreds of cameras as he did earlier, a sense of bitterness piles up again just like it does at times.

He once loathed the way he let his first love go that way, but he's learned to live with it. He doesn't blame you, not in the slightest, for what you did, for disappearing. Whether you did it for pettiness or whatever, he thinks it was deserved. When you disappeared, he didn't bother calling or texting, because he at least knows and realizes he was an asshole. You left for a reason and he wasn't gonna mess it up for you, he already messed up your relationship.

It was also that time when Sunghoon realizes he was a true Drama King, even taking the 'regret it the end' and 'realizing when it's already too late' trope in real life. He wants to laugh, can this be called dark humor?

Sunghoon didn't weep and beg God for a second chance. He cried when the bitterness seeps at times and lets himself drown with Sunoo's sad playlist at 1 am. Those times were rare because obviously crying at 1 am in bad for you and he's an idol, it's one of his jobs to take care of himself. And so he takes the silence left in the ghost and keeps it inside him.

Call him cringe and dramatic, but what can he do but keep it all in? It's not like he can cry it out every single time.

Besides, he's used to it. Keeping everything until he bears the consequences. That's what happened to him, and the consequence just unfortunately happened to be his first love.

It wasn't like Sunghoon had a sad backstory or childhood shit, but he doesn't need to have one to be able to feel the loneliness and pressure sink in as he tries to become the idol everyone expects him to be. The weight of months of training, and then Iland, debuting and having huge amounts of expectations because they came from a popular label and show. He's had cameras since he was a kid, he's had to keep up a facade since he started figure skating, he shared all of that with you. But the burdens he had when he debuted was something he decided he couldn't keep sharing anymore, he can't let the only person keeping him sane be tainted with his burdens. And so he stays silent until he got so used to staying silent that he forgets to let anything else out.

He carries and accepts everything inside him but how can he not feel anything when you're just a few steps away? A man's first love never dies easily.

But you greet them and walk away like it's nothing. Like he was nothing. Really, what was he expecting anyway? Maybe seeing you again had him go crazy. He laughs bitterly internally because he can't burden his members with this too.

But it hurts, doesn't it?

how can you look at me and pretend i'm someone you've never met?

For some reason though, you don't wish for another chance. You both don't wish or think of a what if. You both don't look back anymore.

Because you both know it will never be the same again, even if you hadn't disappeared. Because nothing was there anymore.

It will ache, but it will never go back again.

[darnossweater]

Bruhhhh I am glad I didn't know there was a newish season of Dragon Prince until now because I have no idea how I would have waited more than 2 days for the finale. Please let these kids have a normal childhood and not have to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders

[mc-critical]

Hatice and Ibrahim have never been more divided from each other up to that point than in E43-E44. While Hatice always sensed when Ibrahim was actually in danger or she's lost him in any way (i.e. E35 when she felt something in Edirne while Ibrahim was with Nigar), nothing came up when he was shot; he didn't even tell her what happened to him until she found out herself; they were seperated while he was recovering; the wait for Ibrahim to come back felt like an eternity to Hatice and she went through several breakdowns at once (and his carriage was right in front of her but she couldn't see him, her only thought until the very end was that he was dead, isn't that what her dream with the "crying" statues meant?); when he came back she wasn't allowed to spend at least some time alone with him as SS wanted to talk to him; even their sleep was interrupted. The only thing that Ibrahim asked Hatice to do was to play him his mother's song on the violin (I like to think that Hatice started learning the violin in order to become closer to him, to who he is, to his past again after what they went through with little Mehmet).... but he no longer associates even that with Hatice anymore.

[kitteninabunker]

" lucky charm ! "

contains— female reader, spit, creampie, multiple orgasms (reader), sixsome, full nelson, double penetration, oral sex (m & f receive), anal, unprotected, toji calls a girl a bitch, toji being soft, mlm scene between geto & gojo, reader masturbates, mind breaking, nanami cameo, reader has a belly piercing, no penetration from geto this time

a/n— since u guys and i personally love dork!reader x jjk football team, i decided to write another one! prequel here you'll probably have to read that one first for this to make sense, also do not come for me because i have no clue about what goes on during football >.< this is also kinda rushed, let me specify that this is a college au too

word count— 9.1k… i apologize in advance

the whole football team is truly convinced that dork!reader is their "good luck charm."

ever since that night, when they all took turns with you in the locker room, fucking you until you were a babbling mess, they haven't lost a single game since. and now, with tonight being the night of the championship, and the team's reputation on the line, they aren't taking any chances.

it started out small, toji letting you wear his football jersey to cover up after they tore your outfit to pieces, the oversized fabric swallowing you up as he smirked at the sight. gojo carrying you on his shoulders, letting you wear his football helmet and laughing each time it fell over your eyes with any little movement you made, and geto sneaking you into games for free, so you can be in the stands, cheering for your favorite boys. they loved it, loved knowing their favorite girl was always there, watching, supporting them, belonging to them in a way nobody else could.

oh, and as for their girlfriends? well, the way you were just a bit too loud for their boyfriends whenever they scored a point earned you more than a few nasty looks, not that you cared. they definitely notice you, the way you're always at the football games, always getting their boyfriend’s attention, and they hated it. not because they actually love their boyfriends, but because the idea of some dorky girl stealing their spotlight was unbearable. the truth is, you are pretty, just as much as they are, and worthy of attention. but you're shy, kept your head in a book. it took a hit on your social life, sure, but that didn’t matter. because their boyfriends‘ didn’t seem to mind at all.

the stadium lights burn brightly against the dark sky, a sharp contrast to the biting cold air that nips at your bare legs. the crowd buzzes with excitement, fans bundled up in thick jackets and scarves, but here you are, shivering in your too-short miniskirt and your cropped top, stubbornly refusing to cover up. you'd spent so much time getting ready, doing your makeup, making sure you looked cute for them, and now, standing at the edge of the field, you wonder if you should've picked something less revealing. but it's too late for second guessing, especially when you hear a familiar voice call out—

"there's our girl."

warm hands settle on your shoulder as geto leans in, his lips brush against your temple before he moves over in front of you. the others aren't far behind—toji, sukuna, gojo, and choso—following closely behind, surrounding you with their broad, towering frames. their presence is overwhelming in the best way. "tryin' to look extra pretty for us tonight, huh?" geto murmurs, his thumb wiping off some of the smudged gloss at the corner of your lips with his free hand, he's clutching his football helmet tightly in the other. it's true, you wanted to look pretty for the guys today, glossy lips, cute little outfit, your hair worn down instead of pulled back into your usual ponytail, but with the weather being practically freezing since the sun isn't out anymore, you look silly in your white miniskirt, to anyone that isn't gonna fuck you, anyways, that barely reaches where your thigh and ass meet. but when you catch the way they're all looking at you, as if you're the only thing worth staring at, drooling like starving dogs, it felt worth it.

still, a tiny feeling of self-consciousness bites at you. should you have worn a different outfit? something that wouldn't draw so much attention to you? wouldn't make you feel so aware of yourself? “o-oh, do i offend?” you innocently ask, raking through your hair with your fingers and smoothing down the back of your skirt. "you wouldn't let us go into the biggest game of the season without a little extra luck, would you?" geto asks, mock sadness in his voice as he pouts. you fidget with the ends of your hair, dropping your head to stare down at your shoes on the dark green grass only to notice just how much bigger the guys are than you as they stand around. "don't go all shy on us, y/n." toji chuckles from beside geto, his hand finds your chin as he places a gentle finger beneath it and tilts your head up so you're looking right at him. his gaze holds nothing but affection, and it makes the heat burning your face and the tips of your ears worse.

he's close enough that you catch the faint scent of cologne and sweat on him, his jersey clinging to his broad shoulders. the soft warmth in his gaze makes your stomach twist, and suddenly, you feel too seen, too small in the midst of them. gojo chuckles from beside toji, arms crossed over his chest as he leans in, eyes scanning over you in a way that makes your stomach flip. “what’s with the face, princess?” he teases. “you were all confident a second ago."

your fingers twitch, and you can't stop your hand from moving to your face as you slip your glasses off, tucking them away as the insecurities settle in. maybe you'd look better without them—prettier, like the girls they're usually seen with. but the moment your glasses come off, your vision becomes hazy. toji's handsome features you were just staring at go blurry. you can feel your eyes crossing and you blink, squeezing your eyes shut as if that'll help. before you can fumble for them, sukuna, who’d been watching with a smirk, walks over and plucks your glasses from your hands with an amused scoff. "nice try, sweetheart." he mutters, carefully sliding your glasses back onto your face again, adjusting them.

the moment your vision clears and your eyes go back into focus, choso whistles lowly from his spot beside sukuna. "much better," he coos, ruffling your flat-ironed hair before tilting his head with a dramatic sigh. you open your mouth to protest, you'd rather sacrifice your sight if that meant knowing you looked good, but gojo beats you to it, his usual grin stretching wide as he leans in. "honestly, i dunno why you even tried that, you’re already gorgeous.” he says, “don’t hide this pretty face from us."

heat sizzles on your cheeks, but before you can process gojo's words, sukuna swoops in and wraps his muscular arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him until your chest is pressed against his abs. “m’ so happy our girl came to see us.” he murmurs, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, he drops his head so your foreheads are pressed against each other as the tip of your noses touch. you smile up at him, cupping his face with your hands. "alright, alright, that's enough." you hear toji say as he and the rest of the guys crowd around you two, toji makes the first move, leaning in as he starts kissing your cheek, gojo nuzzles his nose against your neck before latching his lips onto your skin, geto stands behind you as his large hands explore your waist, choso presses soft, lazy pecks along your shoulder, while sukuna smirks and tilts your chin up, stealing a quick kiss right from your lips.

you feel your heart skip a few beats as you pull back from sukuna's lips, his eyes locked onto your flushed face as he stands straight up, allowing everyone to get a good look at you. "look at 'er." toji drawls, his voice laced with amusement. "all dolled up, looking cute as hell." his green eyes drag down your body, lingering just long enough on your smooth thighs and the hem of your miniskirt to make your thighs press together. "almost too good to be true."

sukuna huffs a low laugh beside him, reaching down to toy with the edge of your skirt. "you wore this thing just for us, baby?"

"mhm!" you proudly declare, nodding your head and lightly pinching the fabric of your skirt. your lips tighten in an upside-down smile, you twirl a lock of your hair around your finger and slightly sway. even though you're shy, you crave this kind of attention. and just like that, the insecurity gnawing at you starts to fade. maybe you don't fit in with the cheerleaders, maybe you aren't as loud, as confident, as perfect as they are, but these guys don't seem to mind. in fact, they love it.

"you cold, y/n?" toji's smug expression fades into something softer, pure concern in his voice. his brows knit together as he shrugs off his jersey, pulling it over your head without waiting for an answer, the fabric heavy and warm as it falls past your knees. "there, don't get sick trying to be cute. you already are."

sukuna smacks his lips, watching toji with an amused look. "man, look at you," he drawls, shaking his head. "all soft for her like some lovesick puppy." gojo snickers, elbowing sukuna. "never thought i'd see the day when the big bad toji fushiguro gives up his jersey and his dignity in one move." toji grunts, adjusting the jersey on you like he didn't hear them. "shut up." his hand lingers on your shoulder, tugging the fabric into place, and yeah, they all see it.

"aww, she's blushing." choso calls out, smiling and patting your shoulder.

before you could respond, a sharp, piercing whistle cuts through the air. "enough." coach nanami's voice is flat, unimpressed as he walks up to the huddle with his arms crossed. his usual stern expression is set in place, brows furrowed as he glares at the group. "get your asses in gear. now." the guys groan, shaking their heads as they start to ready themselves for the game. geto sighs dramatically, stepping back. "guess we'll have to pick this up later."

"but don't go anywhere." choso gives you a pointed look, his fingers briefly squeeze your wrist before he lets go. "we wanna hear you cheering for us."

gojo smirks, reaching out to tap your chin. "loud and clear, yeah?"

"yeah," you breathe, barely registering your own voice.

you watch the three of them take off towards the middle of the field, but before sukuna follows, he quickly crouches down until his lips are at your ear. "cheer the loudest for me." his voice a raspy whisper, then he's gone, running after the others, leaving you grinning to yourself. you turn your attention back towards toji who's already staring at you. "aren't you gonna go?" you ask, nodding your head towards the field. "yeah, yeah.” he mutters, but makes no effort to leave. instead, he lets his gaze sweep over you, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “just let me admire you a little longer. you’re so damn cute wearing my jersey.”

before you can even think of a response, nanami's sharp voice cuts through the moment.

“fushiguro!”

you whip around to see coach nanami, arms crossed, his sharp eyes snapping over at you in toji’s oversized jersey. “what the hell is she doing with that on?!?!”

toji sighs, dragging a hand down his face before stepping back, but not before he tugs the fabric into place, making sure you're covered properly against the cold air. "relax, coach,“ he drawls, already jogging off toward the locker room. “i’ll grab another one.”

coach nanami exhales hard, sighing as he pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. his clipboard slips from his grip, hitting the ground with a dull thud. "dealing with college boys is a fucking nightmare."

he mutters something under his breath again as he bends to grab his clipboard, shaking his head like he's this close to losing it. but you barely notice it, your focus lingers on toji's retreating form, the warmth of his jersey still heavy on your body. it smells like him too, like worn leather, faded cologne, and a hint of sweat, and you fight the urge to bury your nose in it.

"you're unbelievable," coach nanami sighs, dragging you out of your thoughts.

"what?" you blink up at him with giant eyes thanks to your lenses, feigning innocence.

his tired gaze flicks between you and the team warming up on the field, then back to you, deadpan.

"just... stay out of trouble," he mutters, turning on his heel.

the stands are already packed with students, alumni, parents who think their kids are going to make it to the NFL, and locals all gathered for the championship game. the energy is buzzing. you should be focusing on that, but instead, your attention shifts to the sidelines, to them.

sukuna is the first to notice you watching, he smirks, throwing you a wink before rolling his shoulders like he's showing off. you watch how the muscles in his tattooed arms flex, and it gives you a shameful heat between your legs. geto catches on next, and even from this distance, you can see the teasing glints in his eyes. gojo, of course, takes it a step further, making a big show of blowing you a kiss. choso's stretching on the field, his eyes locked onto your figure with intense concentration.

you step onto the bleachers, slowly and quietly walking to an open spot with your cherry slushie and ketchup and mustard covered hotdog from the concession stand—your favorite. as you walk, you notice how the sound of conversation starts to die down, not all at once, but as if everyone you walked by went silent, finding staring at you to be a lot more interesting than whatever they were talking about. you keep your head down, pretending not to notice, but you can feel it. the weight of everyone's eyes on you, the murmurs passed between groups.

by the time you take a seat on the silver bleacher, it's clear, the excitement of the game or the players making their entrance, none of that is what gets people talking.

it's you.

wrapped in toji's jersey, oversized and undeniably his.

"wait, isn't that toji's?"

"yeah... why does she have it?"

"does she know him like that?"

you hear the whispers behind you, feel the stares burning into your back, some confused, some sharp with irritation. your stomach twists, a knot tightening deep in your gut as you clutch the jersey in your fist, gripping the fabric like it might somehow shield you from their scrutiny. you shift your weight, fighting the urge to shrink into yourself and disappear into the crowd. you nervously take a bite of your hotdog even though the energy you feel around you just killed your appetite.

cowering away isn't an option anymore, the cheerleaders have already seen you. and judging by the way some of them are glaring, they're not glad to see you. one of them makes a sharp scoff you can hear since your standing behind her on the bleachers, and it makes your heart sink. their boyfriends are the stars of the show, they should be the ones getting all the attention, but here you are. tucked away in an oversized jersey, the one that belongs to another girl's man, stealing glances and soft smiles that belonged to them. you don't miss the way they're eyeing you, how their perfectly manicured fingers tighten around their pom-poms, how their lips curl slightly.

"god, she's always here," one of them mutters to another under her breath, but it's loud enough for you to hear.

"it's pathetic," another sneers. "she's not even that pretty."

you swallow hard, fingers twitching at the hem of the jersey.

you knew this was coming, they've never liked you. always had something to say about how you looked, what you wore. they picked you apart about everything, and this moment brings you back to memories you'd rather forget. the worst part is, they aren't wrong. you aren't like them. you aren't a cheerleader. you don't have perfectly styled hair or expensive clothes, or the confidence to walk across campus like you own the place. you're just... you.

"focus!" coach nanami barks at the team, blowing his whistle. "game starts in five!"

you squeeze the jersey tighter in your fist, finger's twisting into the heavy fabric. okay, maybe this whole thing was a mistake. maybe you should've stayed home, watched the game from your dorm, spared yourself the humiliation—

"oi."

your head snaps up at the sound of a voice, deep and rough, cutting right through the chatter. the whispers die down almost instantly, and suddenly toji is right there. standing in his newer jersey he ran off to retrieve.

he's not looking at the crowd, not sparing the cheerleaders a glance, not paying attention to anyone except you.

"toji?" you ask, craning your head up as he reaches out, his rough fingers grazing your thigh as he tugs at the hem of his jersey. he's making sure it's still snug on your body and doing its job to keep you warm. "aren't you gonna go play?"

"yeah, i am." he mutters, but his eyes don't leave your face. his jaw tightens, turning his head to the side just for a second before he scoffs. "just didn't like the way those bitches are ogling at you." it takes you a moment to realize who he's talking about, so you shift slightly, leaning past toji's broad frame, and sure enough—you see the cheerleaders. their glossy lips are curled into little sneers, arms crossed, their eyes locked onto the two of you like they're barely restraining themselves from marching over. yeah, the loser nobody hangs out with gets to wear a football player's jersey, so what? you want it to be a silent flex that you took their man. but the practical part of you takes over, and you quickly duck back behind toji. your fingers curls around his sleeve as you press yourself against his chest.

"that's cute," he huffs out a laugh as he feels the top of your head on his abs, shaking his head. "you gonna hide beneath me all night?"

"no..." you, admittedly, felt safe hiding beneath him, as if he were a shield for everyone's current awkward staring.

"wait... are they actually—"

"what? since when?"

toji smirks, knowing exactly what he's doing, he wants them to see. "there," he murmurs, giving the fabric one last tug before letting it go. you blink up at him, lips parted, unsure of what to even say. he just grins, reaching out to ruffle your hair before turning back toward the field.

"don't move," he calls over his shoulder, voice teasing as he jogs to join the rest of the team. "gotta win this game for our girl, yeah?"

you've been holding your breath the entire time.

watching as toji plows through the defenders, and sukuna stiff-arming a smaller player on the opposing team so hard he hits the ground. "too slow, dumbass." he sneers before launching the ball across the field to geto, who catches it effortlessly, barely breaking his stride. choso is calm, his eyes narrowed as he watches the other players. the moment he sees geto launch the ball into the air towards him, he sprints. weaving through the players with percussion and catching it before tossing the ball to gojo.

you can't look.

the pressure it too much, the pounding of your heart against you ribcage is deafening in your own ears as you swallow thickly and squeeze your eyes shut.

then—

the stadium buzzer blares, the announcer screaming into the microphone, "TOUCHDOWN SCORED BY GOJO SATORU!"

they won... your boys won!

the stadium erupts, a deafening mix of cheers and screams shaking in the air as everyone jumps up, hugging and celebrating. on the field, the players swarm each other, a chaotic mix of bodies clashing victory. you catch a glimpse of the opposing team, some shaking their heads, others already trudging off the field in defeat. their coach looks like he's about to lose his mind, throwing whatever was in his hands to the ground before gripping his hair in frustration.

"yes!" you cheer, arms flying up as you beam at the celebration around you. the energy is overwhelming, everyone’s screams ringing in your ears. without thinking, you immediately rush down from the stands and onto the field. to no surpise, gojo is already rushing towards you. your feet barely hit the ground before he grabs you first by your waist, lifting you up effortlessly. "did you see that?! we won!" he laughs, spinning you around.

"i saw!" you giggle, clinging onto his shoulders. the second he sets you back on the ground, sukuna swiftly grabs you next, pulling you into his chest as he smirks against your ear. "cheered the loudest for me, huh? knew you would, sweetheart." his usual smugness is dripping from his voice.

"delusional," geto scoffs, pushing sukuna aside as he wraps his arms around you, hugging your head and inhaling the scent of your strawberry scented shampoo that still lingers in your hair. "i knew you wouldn't let us lose."

choso pulls you in next, his arms are tight but warm as he lays his head on the top of yours, murmuring a quiet, "our good luck charm."

you don't spot toji anywhere as you turn your head to scan the field, then he appears right behind you, tugging you out of geto's grip and spinning you around to look at him.

he's soaked in sweat and breathing hard, but his grin is wide and all for you. he hugs your waist tightly, "we won, baby." his voice is low, warm.

"i know, congratulations!" you breathe, grinning so hard your cheeks ache.

"don't congratulate us, sweet thing." gojo says, playing with a strand of your hair. "we owe it all to you."

"and you looked so damn cute watching us do it." toji adds, his hand squeezing your waist

before you can even roll your eyes, he yanks you up off of your feet. you gasp, legs dangling as his lips crash against yours.

the kiss makes your head full fuzzy, heat and hunger forming in your core. toji's hands are gripping your waist like he can't stand the thought of letting you go. your fingers twist into his jersey—well, his other jersey since you're still swaddled in his old one.

you forget about those lingering stares, the whispered remarks, the cheerleaders who looked at you like they wanted to murder you, the jealous glances thrown your way. the world around you slowly seems to go silent, no crowd, you judgment, nothing—just you and your boys.

"hey, don't hog her, old man," sukuna grunts, yanking you from toji's arms and into his own. his sharp grin is wicked, his hands wandering down to your plump ass and he gives it a rough squeeze,

“sukuna!" you yelp, giggling.

"sukuna," choso warns, but the way his grip on your wrist tightens betrays him too, doesn't want to let you go.

"what? can't help it." sukuna shrugs, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of toji's jersey draped over you, flipping it over your skirt as the cold air kisses your exposed skin. sukuna sharply inhales your scent, hugging you close as his whispering voice sends a sharp jolt through you. "not my fault she's so sexy."

your breath catches, but the guys don't miss it. they never do.

"getting shy, sweetheart?" geto teases, stepping behind you. "you were so confident screaming for us just a second ago."

"s'not fair," you mumble, suddenly aware of the way they're all looking at you with hungry stares. the boys who just won the biggest game of the season and only want one thing to celebrate groping you in front of everyone.

"no?" gojo tilts his head with faux innocence, "then what is fair? 'cause i think we deserve a proper reward, don't you?"

“alright, that’s enough of this,” toji grunts, he hauls you up and throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. "let's show her what we really want."

“toji—?!” you squeak, your hands immediately gripping the back of his jersey as you lift your head, turning it to look at him.

“relax, sweetheart,” he says, giving your ass a playful smack that makes you jolt and kick your leg. “time for the real celebration.”

the others don’t even question it, if anything, they’re laughing, trailing closely behind as toji strides off the field with you in tow. you were always meant to end up like this, a girl in her skimpy little outfit being carried like a sack of potatoes on a man's shoulder.

“what makes you special enough to have her all to yourself?” choso huffs, his jaw ticking as his dark eyes lock onto yours. he drags his tongue over his bottom lip, slow and deliberate. with that, you remember how his cock felt in your mouth, the weight of him on your tongue, the warmth of his cock stretching your mouth, the way he groaned when you took him deeper. heat floods your face, your breath hitching at the memory. you swallows hard and immediately advert your gaze which makes him chuckle.

“well, she is wearing my jersey.” toji smirks, gripping your asscheek again as you wiggle in his hold. you feel his arm tightening over you, “keep squirming, and we’ll handle you right here.” he warns, his voice is smooth but you don’t miss the promise.

that shuts you up, you slap your hands over your face even though you wouldn’t mind if they took you right here, on the field for everyone to see.

you turn your head back around just in time to watch the last of the crowd start to clear out—parents, students, faculty leaving the stands and off the field until it’s quiet, until it’s just you and them. the atmosphere is still heavy with the buzz of the win, but none of that matters now. it’s just you and your boys alone on the field, their footsteps are slow behind toji, trailing you both across the field and toward the locker room doors. you can feel their eyes burning into your body. winning the championship wasn’t enough for them, toji’s carrying the real prize on his shoulder right now, anyways.

you know exactly how this night is gonna end.

toji carries you inside of the locker room, arms snug over your lower back. the humid air thick with sweat, musk, and testosterone floods your senses, dragging you back in time. “can you take dick, pretty girl?” your breath catches in your throat as your brain goes back to the first time you were ever here, pressed against sukuna’s muscular body, clawing at his broad shoulders and struggling to hold yourself together as you got your guts rearranged and pounded. your thighs press together as the throbbing between your legs returns, your chest rises and falls too fast, fingers tangling in toji's jersey.

“you’re quiet all of a sudden,” gojo murmurs behind him, looking at you. “what’s wrong?”

you look up at him, head titled slightly with your lips caught between your teeth.

sukuna leans in close, his grin sharp. “she remembers," he clicks his tongue. "don’t you, baby?"

of course you do. how could you forget? it was your first time getting fucked, your first time getting your poor virgin cunt stretched open by huge athletic dick and they didn't even bother to go easy on you. you remember the way you sobbed, begging for the break you never got.

how could they forget?

“she’s getting all shy,” geto teases, reaching out to brush his knuckles down your arm as you cling onto toji’s back.

“actin' like we haven’t seen every inch of this pretty body,” toji chuckles, squeezing a greedy handful of your ass as he shifts his hold, cradling you in his arms bridal style before he lowers you down so you can sit on the bench.

you sit in front of them, shrinking beneath their gazes, surrounded. everywhere you look is a tall, horny body that's already had you and wants you again. deja vu settles into you as you swallow thickly, looking up and giving them doe eyes.

choso steps forward, fingers curling around your waist, thumbs pressing lightly into your hips. he bends to your height, his dark eyes stare into yours as he tilts his head with a soft expression. “do you remember how it felt?” he whispers, voice ghosting over your lips. “right here, on this bench? you were shaking so bad.”

your eyes soften as you nod, slow and shy, lips parting just slightly.

"aww," gojo coos, grinning at you as he crouches beside you. "she's nervous. you're not scared of us now, are you?"

"i'm not," you whisper, voice small.

you say you aren't nervous, aren't nervous for another around of five dicks taking you again, that sounds amazing in your mind, in fact, but your body language gives you away. your fingers twist at the hem of toji's jersey, and your breath stutters when choso's hand grazes your shoulder, his palm warm against your skin.

“she’s remembering how good i felt inside of ‘er,” sukuna chimes, his voice dark with amusement as he leans against the wall, arms crossed. “bet her cute little pussy’s already making a mess in those panties.”

“i think she liked it too much last time,” geto hums. his fingers slip beneath jersey, dipping into the waistband of your skirt, he tugs the fabric off of your belly gently, letting it snap back against your skin. “look at her squirm.” you gasp slightly, feeling geto’s fingertips trace patterns across your stomach.

toji’s hand returns to your thigh as he takes a seat on the bench next you, thumb drawing lazy, possessive circles just beside the edge of your panties. “still so soft,” he mumbles. “you want it again, don’t you?” he’s looking at you, green eyes trailing over your features. “you wanna feel our dicks streching every opening you have out?”

truth is, you’re not shy because they’ve fucked you before. you’re wondering if they’re noticing the acne dotting your cheeks, if they think your braces make you look juvenile, if your glasses—those stupid, ridiculously thick things—make your eyes look comically big. you glance away, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“hey,” toji murmurs, voice dipping low as his hand catches your chin, turning your face gently back to him. “don’t hide. you look so fucking cute like this.”

you glance over at him, lips parted and your breaths shallow. there’s no hiding it right now, they read you an open book. the heat in your chest spreads all the way to your core. a smile curls across your face, right now you’re just a shy, but eager thing. “yeah,” you breathe. “i do.”

“see? there’s our smile.” toji grins down at you, pinching your cheek playfully before standing upright and steppiing back. “hmm,” sukuna hums, already stalking closer. “you’re still wearing too many clothes.” his fingers tug at the hem of the oversized jersey still draped over your body, his jaw ticks, eyes narrowed. “you should be wearing mine.” he mutters beneath his breath, a smug look curling his lips.

“strip.”

the single word cuts though the air. you immediately snap your head up at sukuna as his words cut through the air. your heart skips beats as your lips part. you blink, pulse thudding in your own ears. they—they want you to take your clothes off? right here, in front of them? by yourself? you hesitate for a bit, and the air around you grows hot and still, five sets of eyes are locked in you now, and they all look like they’re about to pounce on you.

“uhmmm,” you scratch your head, blinking. “you… want me to get naked?”

“duh.” geto says, smirking as he crosses his arm. “you’ve got two hands for a reason.”

the others chuckle lowly, the kind of laugh that sends heat crawling up your neck. your eyes flick between each of them, choso watches you with that quiet, shy, pink-colored blush across his cheeks, he’s patient. toji leans back with a knowing smirk, like he’s already seen this play out in his head. sukuna looks like he’s gonna tear those damn clothes off of you himself, his jaw tight. gojo’s gaze is steady and unreadable, but you know he’s growing impatient as well. and geto? he’s already palming his heavy, budging cock through his uniform, shameless and nearly shaking with arousal.

“hm, okay!” your fingers curl beneath the hem jersey as you pull it over your head, gently placing on the bench behind you. you pull your shoes off then your socks, leaving you in nothing but your crop top and your miniskirt. the cool air in the room brushes your exposed skin, hardening your nipples beneath your shirt. you slowly begin to lift your top, rolling the fabric up inch by inch, reaching the soft swells of your breast. their gazes don’t waver, if anything, they darken. then comes your skirt, you hook your thumbs under the waistband, shimmying down your hips, letting it fall to the floor with a soft rustle. now, you’re standing before them in nothing but your magenta thong.

“fuck,” toji exhales, his eyes darkening as he looks you over. “you look even better than i remember.”

they can see the outline of your cunt, the thin strip of your soaked thong barely covering anything. the shiny jewelry in your belly button catches the light, drawing attention to how it glistens so perfectly against your skin. choso silently moves toward you, gently spinning you around until your back rests against his chest. he leans down, brushing his lips against yours in a soft kiss. you follow suit as you move your arm to cup his face with your hand. his palms glide over the soft curve of your belly, squeezing your waist before one hand snakes down past the band of your panties.

you gasp into choso's mouth as your tongue laps around with his, his fingers sliding between your slick folds. you feel their hands all over your body, tracing your hips, brushing your arms, tugging the thin band on your panties that could easily rip. the way you feel so open, right there and available makes you hornier than ever. gojo's in front of you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pressed his bulge onto your barely cunt through your thin lace thong. your eyes fly open as you feel it, the pulse right beneath you and begging to feel your warm walls gushing around it when you cum. someone's lips are on your neck, their teeth gently scraping your skin. you can tell it's geto's breath brushing against the shell of your ear, his hands palming your soft, plump sss as his fingers curl into the plush of it.

choso pulls back from the kiss, a line of spit connects your lips to his as he stares down at you. "you gonna be good for us, pretty girl?" he huffs, catching his breath after kissing you. "bet that mouth of yours could make us all see starts." before you can even answer, gojo presses his twitching cock through his uniform harder against your wet cunt, feeling your juices start to leak out and seep through the fabrics. "you remember how good we made you feel last time, hm? how sweet you sounded with your mouth full?" he laughs softly as he feels you tremble, pressing a kiss on the side of your face.

choso slides his hand along your waist, eyes soft but dark with lust. "you can handle us," he murmurs. "we'll go slow. or not." his fingers hook beneath the band of your panties as he tugs them down until they pool around your ankles, leaving your cunt exposed for all of them to see. he picks you up, carrying you back to the bench, your back pressed against his back. "spread it, show everyone how much you want it." he whispers into your ear. you spread your puffy cunt apart, showing off your glistening pink insides. "like this?" choso keeps your legs up by locking his arms around the back of your knees, making sure you're absolutely on display and vulnerable.

"fuck, she looks so delicious and innocent." you hear someone murmur. you watch toji crouch down between your legs, licking his lips and staring at your leaking cunt. "been thinking about how sweet this pussy tastes since last time. "aaah!" a whimper slips out of your mouth as he lowers his head and licks a long stripe up your slit. the moan that rips from your mouth is cut short, because sukuna grabs your jaw and turns your head towards him.

"you're not getting off that easy, open up and let me feed you this dick." he doesn't wait for you to nod, his twitching cock is already thick and heavy in his hand as he pressed it against your lip. "and don't use your teeth, we can't have those braces getting in the way, can we?" your body jolts as toji's tongue flicks against your clit, hot and relentless, and you part your lips on instinct, letting sukuna slide past your tongue. the stretch burns, but you moan around him anyway.

"that's it," sukuna growls, one hand tangled in your hair and the other cradling your jaw as he starts to fuck your mouth slowly. "fucking perfect." toji groans between your legs, fingers spreading you wider as he licks you open. "she's dripping," he growls. "tastes like she's been waiting for this."

above you, gojo chuckles, cock already out and twitching in his hand. your lips are stretch around sukuna's dick gojo grabs your hand and sticks his cock inside, you instinctively stoke it as gojo reaches down to your cunt to gather your slick and spread it all around his shaft. your hips twitch against toji's face, trying to grind down and he answers with a rough suck to your clit that makes you moan around sukuna's dick as he grabs a handful of hair from the back of your head and forces your head against his pelvis.

"she's close," choso says as he watches, feeling your body jerk against him as he moves one of his hands to play with your boob. and that's when you feel another tongue making laps around your clit alongside toji's. your eyes fly open as you pull sukuna's cock out of your mouth to watch geto and toji licking your pussy like it's the best thing they've ever tasted.

"guys—aaah!" you whimper, grinding harder against both of their faces and you feel it, you feel yourself squirt as the move move to watch it. "good girl!" toji praises as him and geto lap up your juices, geto moves a bit lower to clean up the mess you just made that's leaking down into your tightest hole. your jaw aches, throat raw from taking sukuna so deep, and your arm burns from how tightly you're stroking gojo, but you don't stop. you can't stop. not when toji and geto are making you see stars with their tongues, their mouths warm and wet, taking turns sucking and licking until your thighs twitch uncontrollably.

and through it all, choso keeps you steady in his lap, hands soft on your tits, fingers rubbing your nipples until they're painfully hard and sensitive.he's murmuring against your temple, saying things you can barely hear over the moaning and slick sounds around you.

then, slowly, the touches start to fade.

toji pulls back from between your legs first, his mouth wet with your slick. "look at you," he pants. "fucking wrecked already." you whimper as geto presses one last kiss on your clit before rising to his feet, eyes dark and hungry. gojo huffs a soft laugh, grabbing your chin and making you look at all of them standing over you now.

"who's taking her first?" sukuna grunts, still stroking his cock lazily in his hand. "she's soaked."

"i'll do it," toji says without hesitation, already peeling off his clothes, his cock thick and hard as it bounces free. "i need to feel that tight little pussy gushing around my cock." choso eases you off his lap and helps you lie back on the bench, legs still trembling and glistening. your limbs feel like jello, but you arch your back on all fours, aching for more.

toji steps between your legs, his hands rough as they grab your hips and drag you toward the edge. he spreads you open with his thumbs, groaning at the sight of your dripping hole. "still so fucking wet," he mutters. "you want me to stretch you out, baby?"

you nod helplessly, tongue still thick from sukuna's cock. your voice comes out soft and ruined. "yes... please." you arch your back deeper snd sway your ass, your cunt clenching desperately around nothing and begging to be filled up to the brim. you look back at toji with glossy eyes as your cheek is pressed against the bench

toji holds the base of his thick cock, dragging his fat mushroom tip between your slick folds as it bumps your clit with makes you mewl. "mmmph, p-put it in already!" you softly beg, which makes the guys chuckle. "she's so cock drunk already, dumb little whore." gojo teases. toji lines himself up and pushes inside, slow at first-but he's big, and you feel the burning stretch all the way to your lungs. your back arches with a cry ripping from your throat.

"fuck, she's tight," toji groans, hands bruising on your hips as he starts to thrust, steady and deep. you feel his tip pushing so far inside of you, poking your gut as you wrap your arm around you belly, feeling the shape of his dick bulging through you. he lands a glob of spit onto your asshole, rubbing it around your little hole with the pad of his thumb as he starts to slowly slip it inside.

the others circle around, watching, stroking themselves, eyes locked on where tojl's cock disappears into your soaked cunt over and over and dragging out covered in a thick sheet of your slick. "look at how she's gripping him," gojo murmurs, his hand sliding down your throat, thumb resting just under your jaw. "bet she's gonna cum just from getting filled."

"won't last long," sukuna smirks, fisting his cock. "not when she's clenching like that."

toji grins down at you, sweat dripping from his brow. he watches as a white ring of your arousal bubbles at his shaft, his cock starts to leak precum which makes it easier from him to slip in and out of you faster as he picks the up the pace. your plush ass jiggles against his abdomen as he yanks your free arm behind your back. "you gonna cum for me first, sweetheart? show them how good i fuck you?"

your body answers before you can. the orgasm tears through you suddenly, violently, your legs kicking, cunt pulsing around toji's cock as he growls and fucks you through it. you're barely holding on, legs trembling, body slick with sweat and spit and cum. tojl's still panting above you, cock twitching as he pulls out and lets your pussy drip down onto the bench, but not before he buries himself until his red tip is flush against your cervix, releasing his own load of hot, stick cum as it squirts out in thick ropes. he licks his lips as he looks at your raw, pink hole—all stretched open and used :( you think maybe they'll let you rest, after they all watched you get fucked like that, there’s only so much a girl can take.

they don't.

"you didn't think we were done, did you?" sukuna laughs, grabbing you by the hips and flipping you over like you weigh nothing. you squeal, dizzy, arms trembling as you brace yourself on all fours. choso is already lying back on the bench, thick cock standing straight up between his legs. "come here, baby," he murmurs, pulling you toward him. you straddle him instinctively, thighs trembling as you lower yourself onto his length, your cunt already dripping and eager as his tip starts to split your entrance open. he groans, head tipping back with his hands gripping your hips to keep you steady. "fuck—just like that."

sukuna's behind you again, his cock resting heavy between your cheeks, "hold her open," he barks, choso's hands slide to your ass, spreading your cheeks apart and holding you open wide for sukuna's gaze. your breath catches. "you ready to take both?" choso groans, lining himself up beneath your drooling pussy while sukuna's cock rests against your tight, untouched hole. he spits, the filthy sound echoing in the locker room as lands on your hole. sukuna rubs the head of his against your rim, letting his precum smear around your hole with the spit. "she's shaking." choso breathes, looking up at with, concerned tangled with lust.

"she can take it," sukuna grins, grabbing a fistful of your hair. "she's our little toy, remember?" you breath catches, then turns into a scream as sukuna pushes histhe first stretch making your whole body tense. choso pushes into your soaked cunt at the same time sukuna starts to press into your ass, both of them groaning low as they stuff you full from both ends. it hurts-it burns-but it's so much, too much, and your body starts to melt into it.

"fuck, she's tight," choso hisses. "gripping me like she was made for this." sukuna moans against your back, lips brushing your spine. "she's squeezing me too," he pants. "she's fucking perfect." their thrusts start slow but get brutal fast. they pound into you like they're competing, their cocks dragging over every sensitive spot until you're screaming, drooling, babbling nonsense. you feel like you're going to break apart. choso’s hand slide to your hips to give your movement, “you’re taking us so well…” he whispers.

gojo's in front of you again, stroking his cock lazily. "look at her," he laughs. "fucked so dumb she doesn't even know what hole is getting filled."he grabs your face, slaps your cheek lightly, and taps his cock against your lips. “open up, baby.” you do, instantly, and he slides it into your mouth. you moan around him as sukuna slams into your ass and choso drives his cock deeper into your dripping cunt from beneath you. drool drips down your chin as he gojo feeds his fat cock to you. "good girl," he breathes, both hands holding your head steady as he starts to fuck your throat. "that's it. choke on it."

your body jolts with every thrust, stuffed to the brim, brain melted into nothing but desperate moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin. you're just a hole for them now, for everyone, used and filled. behind you, sukuna bites into your shoulder and growls through his teeth. his thrust grown sloppier as he chases his high, you feel both of their cocks throbbing in both of your holes and your body jerks from the force of it. choso’s breath is hit against your chest, his moans muffled by your bouncing tits. the bench creaks under all of you. their bodies slapping into yours. then, they both cum at once, sukuna spilling into your ass, choso filling your pussy to the brim. as sukuna buries himself to the hilt in your ass and groans through his orgasm, choso bucks one last time into your soaked pussy and spills everything he has inside you. your body sags, twitching under the weight of it all-cum leaking from both holes, drool sliding from your lips.

you moan around gojo's cock as the hot rush of it floods you, leaking down your thighs instantly. a creamy mess of white oozes out from both your holes, slicking your thighs and pooling on the bench beneath you.

"fuck," sukuna hisses. "you're ruined."

"nah," choso murmurs, feeling his own cum start to force his cock to slip out of your pussy. "she's perfect."

"our perfect little cumdump," he breathes, reaching down to rub your clit with slow, lazy circles. "still twitching."

"and she's gonna take more," gojo growls, snapping his hips hard. "hold still." he groans as he slips is cock from your mouth, slapping it on your puffy lips before sukuna pulls out of your asshole, choso lifts your hips up as his own cum forces his cock to slip out.

you barely register the shift, feel strong arms hook under your knees, yanking you upright with shocking ease. your legs are bent, spread wide, and your arms are suddenly pinned up over your head, trapped behind gojo's neck as he locks you in place.

gojo groans, still fucking your cunt . he pulls out just long enough for geto to kneel between your legs, licking at your clit while gojo pushes into your pussy, still wet and dripping with choso's cum.

"full nelson, baby," gojo breathes against your ear, lips curling. "you ever been fucked like this?" his cock grinds between your slick folds, nudging your overstimulated clit. you can't respond, your voice is caught in your throat. your body bounces in his hold, tits jiggling, cunt clenching around him, already soaking wet and leaking down his shaft. he fucks up into you mercilessly, using you like a fleshlight while you whimper and twitch. "nah, didn't think so. let me show you how it feels to be completely helpless."

you can't even speak, then he trusts up into you, hard. your whole body jolts in his grip, helpless and suspended, your cunt stretched again and again as gojo fucked uo into you mercilessly. your tits brunch, spit and tears streak your face and your pussy drools around his cock, dripping everything choso left behind. "so full," gojo groans. "tight little hole milking me."

geto crouches in front of you, watching your ruined face with a hungry smile. "still drooling," he murmurs, before leaning in to suck your clit between his lips, his hand sliding up to cradle gojo's balls, massaging them gently. "fuck, look at her, gojo pants, snapping his lips harder. "can't even talk."

you can't. not when geto's tongue flicks your clit and gojo's cock hits that spot so perfect inside of you. "g-gojo! m' gonna cum..." geto crouches in front of you, watching your face twist with every thrust. "look how fucked out she is," he says, licking his lips. "still drooling." you look down at geto who's already looking up at you, making eye contact as you watch his tongue move so fast on your clit it's almost a pink blur.

he leans in closer, sucking your clit into his mouth with a rough pull that makes your eyes roll back. he doesn't stop there, his hand slides to cup gojo's balls, massaging them while gojo pounds you like he's trying to rearrange your guts. "still so fucking tight," gojo huffs, snapping his hips up hard. "you're gonna milk another load out of me, aren't you? greedy little thing."

your moan rips out of your throat as he lifts you higher, thighs trembling. his cock pushes in slow, stretching you open, making you feel every inch as he sinks into the mess choso left behind. you can't think. geto's tongue on your clit, gojo's cock pounding into your stuffed cunt, your body jerking from overstimulation and pleasure that borders on pain. "she's full," geto groans, tongue circling your clit while his hand reaches up to massage gojo's balls as they slap against your ass. your moans come in helpless little sobs, your body shaking as another orgasm crashes down on you.

"fuck, i'm close," gojo groans. "you feel that? gonna fill you up too, baby. you're gonna be dripping with all of us." gojo grunts as he buries himself deep and cums inside, warmth flooding you all over again, hips stuttering, and geto groans as he sucks at your clit until your whole body convulses. he laps up gojo's cum and your squirt as it leaks down his ballsack. gojo pulls out, putting you down and laying you back on the bench in the old cum.

when he finally lowers you down, your thighs are trembling, your holes leaking and fluttering.

they leave you there for a moment, gasping, twitching.

then toji grabs your chin and lifts your head. "show us."

you blink, dazed. "h-huh?"

"show us your pussy," gojo grins, sweat-slick and panting. "show us how messy you are."

they help you onto your back, spreading your thighs wide. you reach down with trembling hands, spreading your pussy lips apart to show them how absolutely ruined you are. thick, creamy cum leaking from your holes, glistening, sticky and shiny with sweat and spit.

your shaky fingers are still between your legs, holding yourself open, letting them stare at the mess they've made of you-every fold glistening with slick and cum, leaking down your thighs and soaking into the bench.

"don't close 'em," sukuna warns when your legs start to tremble. "keep it spread, slut. you wanted this, remember?"

you nod weakly, your face burning, throat too raw to speak.

"good girl," gojo grins, ruffling your hair like you're some dumb little pet. "now show us how much you love it. c'mon—play with that messy little pussy, make it nasty."

your breath hitches, but you obey. fingers dipping into the warmth leaking out of you, smearing it over your clit. your legs jerk instantly, the overstimulation sharp and brutal, but you keep rubbing slow, wet circles, cunt twitching as they all watch.

geto crouches beside you again, brushing a thumb down your cheek. "look at that," he murmurs.

"you're so ruined, and you're still getting off. are you proud of yourself, little cumrag?"

"say it," choso mutters, hand wrapping around his half-hard cock again. "tell us what you are."

"i'm-i'm your c-cumrag," you whimper, eyes filling with tears as you keep touching yourself. "just your-fuck—just your hole. i like it. i wanna be used. i wanna be filled-again—"

"she's close again," gojo says with a laugh. "what a filthy fucking girl."

you cry out, hips jerking as you rub yourself harder, the pressure bubbling too fast-your whole body shaking as another orgasm slams through you, muscles tensing so tight you nearly collapse.

"fuck, you're so cute when you break," sukuna huffs.

you go limp, breath ragged, your fingers still slick with their cum and your own.

then, finally, someone lifts you up.

"alright, you did good," choso says softly. "let's clean you up." he carries you into the showers as the others follow. you barely register it, too dazed to move on your own, but warm water starts to rush down your back. you're in the locker room shower, pressed to gojo's chest as he holds you upright while the others wash you off gently, soap slides over your sore body, rinsing away all the filth, but their touches linger-soft, teasing, affectionate.

"we'll get you dirty again soon," geto promises, brushing your hair back from your face with a kiss to your temple.

[joonjuul]

hii, are u comfortable with writing teacher x student trope?

chalk dust. jjk

pairing: professor!jk x delinquent!reader

wc: 6.2k

warnings: englishteacher!jk, softdom!jk, strict!jk, badgirl!reader, obsessive!reader, reader is a crazy tease but goes soft for jk, reader is of age, dorm sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), head pushing, light fingering (f receiving), pet names, creampie, this is absolute filth

a/n: tysm anon for requesting !! not only am i comfortable, but i lowkey love this trope and can feel a series blossoming… chalk dust jk™ has a nice ring to it no?

╋━

professor jeon was a poised man.  he was intricate, careful, took pride in his control and restraint.  he was a man who showed no weakness — and you were a girl who had nothing to lose.

it was your first semester at your new college prior to transferring, due to let’s say… academic differences.  you were never the perfect student, far from it.  you skipped class, kicked cigarette butts out your dormitory window, and scrawled half-assed answers on nearly all your assignments.  all but your english assignments at least.  

english was always different to you though, more specifically; poetry.  you didn’t always try, but the moment your pen hit the paper, you found yourself peeling open like an onion, exposing sides to yourself you never even knew were there.  and the topics that fell from your ink were never those that were comfortable for a casual reader — they were deep, intimate, and often times inappropriate for even a college school setting… especially when you wrote about him.

you had never been attracted to a teacher before, so it caught you off guard the way you would purposefully linger after class was over just to breathe in his air a little longer.  but something about him was so compelling to you, especially the thought of making him lose control, break the rules just for once, just long enough for him to take you on his desk and leave ink stains on your skirt.

“what did you think, miss y/l/n?” his words cut you out of your daydream that isn’t entirely innocent as you realize you had been drifting longer than anticipated.  he looked too good today… too good for you to stay focused.

“i’m sorry?” you blink up at him slowly.  you should feel embarrassed that you were caught red handed, anyone else would’ve been, but not you.

“what do you think wilde meant when he wrote, ‘the only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.’” his calloused hands with traces of chalk etch the sides of the book as his eyes thin out in front of you.  he was the greatest test of all, a test of how far you could truly go to get something you want.

“are you asking for a literary analysis, sir?” the way you speak isn’t particularly respectful, but it’s laced with something else, something only professor jeon is able to catch on to, as most of the other students in your incredibly small class were paying attention elsewhere.

“that is the expectation, yes.”

“expectation… right.” you huff as you lean back in your chair, your voice coming out in a way that’s confident… too knowing.  “well it’s just an excuse, isn’t it?  wilde isn’t talking about temptation as a fleeting thing, he’s saying that once the thought exists, once you’ve imagined it… you’re already lost.  the real choice left is whether you act on it or let it fester.”

the class is still, no one seeming to notice the change in atmosphere, the subtle weight of your words, except professor jeon.  his jaw tenses slightly as his eyes narrow in your direction, reading between the lines of your words, the distinct way you looked at him while speaking, the smirk threatening to tug at your lips.

“that’s quite the interpretation.”

“maybe, but it’s the truth.  wilde knew that resisting something only gives it more power.  because the moment you tell yourself you shouldn’t think about something… it’s already all you can think about.” your head subconsciously cocks to the side as your smirk now turns into a devious smile.  your eyes rake his body language carefully as you admire the way he lets out a slow exhale at your words, his eyes never leaving yours.  he should move on, call on someone else, change the topic at least, but for a fraction of a second, he forgets how to breathe.

“moving on.” he turns away from you, his voice sharp as his attention falls onto the chalk board behind him, outlining a different subject that he deems more pressing than entertaining your obviously suspicious behavior.

but you, your work here is done, as you’ve already planted the seed.  in fact, you had been planting seeds for quite some time now, and the biggest one was going to come to fruition in about 21 minutes.  your eyes flick over to the clock on the wall, the smallest hand ticking painfully slow as you recall the previous night.  your hands fighting for breath as you wrote vigorously in your 3-ring notebook.  you purposely bought a red one so it would easier garner his attention, but what would really catch his eye were the words written throughout the pages.

because see, it wasn’t just a normal red notebook, it was a confession — of boredom, of frustration, of a sharp, all-consuming fascination with him.  your words were far from innocent, phrases and long run-on sentences describing the way he runs a finger over his mouth when he’s thinking, or the way his voice shifts when he’s discussing mature themes.  you wonder, in writing, what it would take to make him snap.  and you’re ready to plant it right where he can see, where his all too curious mind will force him to keep reading, even when he knows it’s wrong.

you feel your breath hitch in your throat as the bell rings abruptly, ripping you from your devious daydream of what only felt like a couple minutes.  you struggle to hide the growing smirk on your face as you hurriedly throw everything in your bag, everything except one simple red notebook, and quickly rush out the door.

normally you’d take your time, enjoy the scenery and take one final smell of the chalk infested air before retreating his classroom for the day, but not this time.  you couldn’t risk premature exposure, everything had to go according to plan, and you had a slight feeling it already was.

professor jeon’s eyes flick across the room before realizing how quickly it had emptied.  normally there were a few stragglers, at least just you, but today there was nothing.

he lets out a long sigh as he turns back to the chalkboard, bringing an eraser up to his already forgotten lecture and wiping it clean, ready for whatever tomorrow may bring.  his mind danced between a new topic within wilde’s book, and something slightly more intense — you.

you were always a question mark in his mind, a level of confusion he never quite knew how to decipher.  you were incredibly smart, and anyone with a brain could see that, but you weren’t nearly as dedicated as you could be.  you didn’t participate in any extracurricular activities that would distract you from your school work, nor did you get involved in any on-campus drama.  yet you were still completely, and purposefully disobedient.  it was almost as if you couldn’t care less about your education, nevermind the topics you always found a way to bring up in class.  it was almost as if you were trying to crawl under his skin, infest his mind with your out of control behavior.  it was nearly intolerable.

he turned away from the board and his eyes quickly fell on a notebook, a red one.  he felt a brow quirk on his face subconsciously and before he knew it he was already taking leaping strides towards your desk.

you always submitted such incredible work.  whether it could be considered inappropriate, or slightly out of range of what you had been discussing in class, it always found a way to linger in his mind, leave him questioning even his own class regimen.

before he was able to decide whether or not reading what could’ve been your personal work was an appropriate thing to do, he was already turning the pages to reveal your most intense inner thoughts.

his eyes widen as he finally realizes — the true extent to all your subtle innuendos, every time your eyes lingered on his longer during class, the way you would let out a gentle exhale of relief as he would call your name… it was all starting to make sense.

and not only that, but they were dated.  they weren’t simple mindless phrases or sexual references sprawled across the paper with no direction.  they were organized, almost like a collection of memories, of fleeting thoughts that you wanted to last longer.

september 14

Maybe he thinks restraint is noble. That if he denies it long enough, it will dissolve into nothing. But that’s the thing about hunger, isn’t it? It doesn’t go away. It just waits.

september 29

I started a new habit today—writing things just for him. Slipping them between the lines of my essays, curling them into the margins of books I know he’ll flip through. I wonder if, when he reads them, he feels it. That sharp, electric jolt of knowing something he shouldn’t.

October 25th

Tonight, I had a thought I shouldn’t have.

I imagined the moment—the exact moment—when he gives in. The silence before it. The way his breath would hitch, the way he’d close his eyes just for a second too long. The way his hands, always so careful, would finally stop hesitating.

he feels his blood thicken as he continues to read, the words rambling through his mind anxiously as if they’d have no ending.  his heart rate quickens, his hands gripping the notebook tighter as he flips through the pages at lightening speed, barely slow enough to properly digest the gravity of your writing — until he lands on the final page.

his mind stutters as he arrives at the final entry, your handwriting much clearer now and he can almost hear your voice speaking it with perfect confidence and dictation.

October 31st

I wasn’t going to write this down. I wasn’t going to let it exist anywhere but inside my head, but I need to let it out.

I want him.  Not in a way I should.

I want him in a way that sits heavy in my chest, in a way that makes it hard to breathe when he’s too close. In a way that keeps me up at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering what it would take to make him finally snap.

And I wonder—if I stepped too close, if I said something I shouldn’t, if I asked—would he?

I think I want to find out.

he feels a lump crawl at his throat as his eyes fall to the bottom of the page, meeting your perfect handwriting in a lighter, much smaller format.

If you’re reading this, then I already won.

after a few painfully long moments, he finally lets out the gasp of air he had been holding in the moment his finger tips met the notebook.  and for a second, just a second, he imagines it too — the feeling of losing control.  it’s just enough to scare him into putting your notebook back down, but not enough to shake away the tugging in his loins and the burning in his chest.

he finds himself pacing, more than he’s probably ever done before.  his feet driving him in circles with his hands in his air as he realizes what he’s done, the situation he’s put himself in.  someone who’s normally so controlled, prepared for nearly any situation, is suddenly doubting his lack of weakness.  and for just a moment, he’s afraid.

he needs to put an end to this.

—

you’re unable to hide your smile of premature victory knowing there’s no way he was able to keep his curious paws off your notebook.  your feet confidently carry you through the hallways, your mind littered with thoughts of how he’d try to tell you it’s wrong, try to deny how your words made him feel, maybe he’d even threaten to turn you in, but it was all apart of your plan.

see, confidence is key here.  whether or not he ever had any feelings for you, or any sexual desires towards you didn’t matter, because you had already planted the seeds.  so even if he felt like all your comments were merely innocent flirtations in the past, they gave him brief visions of what could be, maybe even more, and that guilt alone is enough to drive him to think about you further, especially after reading your notebook.

you feel your stomach tense as you approach his door, it wasn’t time for class yet and you knew he had a free period, so you timed your walk across campus to perfectly align so he’d be reminded of your presence again today, even though you knew he couldn’t think of anything else.

your breath hitches momentarily as he emerges from his door, nearly cutting you off in your tracks.  his eyes narrow in on yours as he signals for you to enter his classroom.

you hide your victory smile quickly before following him into his classroom, watching as he approaches his desk, the red notebook sitting perfectly centered between his ungraded papers, almost as if you were his first priority.

the air was thick with tension, and you were loving every second of it.

“close the door.” his voice is rough, almost sleepless but you don’t question it, only following his orders and taking deliberate steps forward until there’s only the desk between you.

“tell me what this is.” he wraps a cold calloused hand around the rings of the notebook, his eyes narrowing in on yours.

“you already know.” his jaw tenses at your words, and his eyes flicker down to the notebook, memories flashing through his mind of your sinful words.

“you think this is a game?”

“isn’t it?” his gaze lands back on yours, sharp, unreadable — but there’s something lying beneath the surface, almost close enough for you to touch.

“you don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“that’s a lie.”

“enough.” he warns, his grip on the notebook tightening.

“why?  are you afraid?” the question lands like a blow.  he inhales sharply, but he doesn’t answer, and that’s all the confirmation you need.  you take a slow step forward, your hands falling onto the desk as you tilt your head down at him.

“you read every word, didn’t you?”

“you crossed a line.” his voice is strained, almost as if he’s holding back.

“did i?  or did i just say what you wouldn’t?” your voice drops down softly, just above a whisper as you’re unable to hide the smirk tugging at your lips, but his expression quickly changes, something in him snaps.  

“this ends now.” his voice is firm as his grip tightens further on the notebook, his other hand pointing directly at you.

“sounds like you’re convincing yourself more than you’re convincing me.” your smirk turns into a smile as you watch his knuckles turn white, his silence deafening as he stares up at you coldly.

you lean off the desk carefully before turning back towards the door, walking away without any permission to leave.  your hand curls around the doorknob as you turn your head to catch his final reaction, one of confusion and a breaking resolve.

“you can keep the notebook, professor jeon.  i’ll just start a new one.” you smile at him before turning away completely, your feet carrying you to your next class in strides instead of steps.

this was going to be easier than you thought.

but for him, it was the most difficult.

his eyes stare at the door, wide and in shock as he feels the heavy air, still full of your presence glide over his skin, leaving goosebumps in its place.

he exhales sharply, his hand releasing the notebook like it’s something filthy, but he doesn’t walk away, he can’t.  his hands move before he can stop them, the notebook falling open and mindlessly flipping to the page he already knows is there — your confession.

“I want him.”

his breath catches in his throat as the words stare back at him, bold and unforgiving.

“Not in a way I should.”

“In a way that keeps me up at night, staring at the ceiling.”

“Wondering what it would take to make him finally snap.”

“And I wonder—if I stepped too close, if I said something I shouldn’t, if I asked—would he?”

“I think I want to find out.”

he quickly slams the notebook shut, his heart drumming restlessly against his chest as his jaw locks so tightly into place that it nearly aches.  he feels something strange brew inside him, the unbearable pull of something he refuses to name.

he should go to the principal, he should call your parents, he should put an end to this.  but instead, he presses his hands against the desk as he leans forward, his breathing unsteady as he allows his eyes to close.  and for one brief, damning second — he imagines it.  the moment you wrote about.  the moment you break.

he sees it too clearly, feels the heat of it curling in his stomach, the inevitability of it tightening within his throat.  but it isn’t disgust that makes his breath hitch, nor guilt that makes his fingers tremble, but the fleeting image in his mind of his hand wrapped gracefully around your throat as you breathlessly moan out his name.

he swears under his breath, low and sharp before shoving the notebook into a drawer and slamming it into the desk.

but it’s too late now, he can’t unread your words, and he can’t stop the temptation now that it’s started.

—

the night was colder than normal, the gentle sound of rain pattering against your window as your eyes mindlessly scan the pages of the book you thought you were once reading.  your mind stutters in its daydream at the sound of a knock at your door.  

you freeze for a moment.  no one comes here this late.

you feel your feet carry you out of bed as you slowly approach the door, the hardwood floors cold against your bare feet as your fingers curl around the doorknob, your mind going blank as you see him there.

his tie is gone, his shirt which is usually pristine is now rumpled like he’s been running his hands through his hair, through the fabric, like he’s spent hours fighting himself before landing here.

and now he’s standing at your door.  soaking wet.

you lean against the doorframe, allowing your head to tilt to the side just enough to tease him.

“you shouldn’t be here, professor jeon.”

he swallows, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides.

“i know.”

you consider teasing him further, maybe even making him feel a little guilty knowing it’ll only intensify his feelings further, but you decide not to, knowing it’ll only driving him crazier, only stepping back just enough to allow the door to swing open further — an invitation.

his eyes flicker across yours for a moment as he hesitates.  every expression questioning whether or not he should, or if he even dares.  but he finally let’s go, taking a step inside as the door closes behind him, almost like a surrender.

the air is thick, nearly electric as he stands still, something predatory in your gaze as your eyes drag over his wet figure, something about it almost made you feel sorry for him.

“you don’t know what you’re doing to me.” his voice is hoarse as his tongue darts over his lips quickly, his eyes barely meeting yours as he desperately tries to keep his distance.

“i think i do.” you take a step closer.

“no you don’t.” he takes a step back.  “i shouldn’t be here.”

“but you are.” your voice is calm and controlled as you do your best to talk him down from his inner turmoil.

“but you don’t understand this is wrong.  it’s… it’s dangerous.” you watch as he takes another step back from you, his hands tightening by his sides as his knuckles turn white.

“i’m your teacher.  i have responsibilities.  i’m supposed to protect you, not let… this happen.”  his voice cracks as he speaks and you can almost feel a trace of guilt within your chest knowing he really does care about his students.  but you simply couldn’t take it any longer, you were both consenting adults, it shouldn’t matter, and you were determined to show him that.

you take a step forward and slowly bring a hand up to his arm, the feeling of the wet fabric against your fingertips sparks something inside of you, a heat blooming within your stomach.

“let… this happen?” you feel him flinch slightly under your touch, his eyes landing on yours, a warning sign flickering between them.

“y/n, stop.” you hear a tinge of desperation behind his voice despite his warning tone.

you take a step closer to him, a dark smile on your face as your hand draws up his arm, your finger tips set ablaze above his body heat, your stomach twisting at the thought of him finally giving in.

“i said stop.” your shocked at his sudden movement, his hands going up to grab your wrist, holding it in place in a way that’s firm but not rough.  

“i’m not a boy you can tease until i break.  i’m a man, and if i break — i won’t be gentle.” you nearly have to hold yourself up, your knees becoming weak from his words alone.  you take a breath, stabilizing yourself before taking another step closer, your faces merely inches apart as you breathe in his air, his closeness becoming intoxicating, like a high you can’t get enough of.

“i don’t want gentle.” your voice is soft, but his features are furthest from that, his eyes holding every last bit of restraint he has as you watch them darken by the second.

silence closes the gap between your bodies as you watch his control slowly slip away.  every thought, every image that ever crossed his mind, all playing at full speed, and it’s completely overwhelming.

he lets out a slow, shaky exhale.  his eyes shutting carefully, almost like he’s preparing himself, before he tightens his grip on your wrist, the feeling of your pulse quickening under his touch only fueling him further as he pulls you into him, closing the gap between your bodies completely.

“god can you shut that pretty mouth for once?” you feel your heart skip a beat at his words, his demeanor quickly changing at he looks down at you, his eyes half lidded and full of lusted, sinful thoughts.

“what—“

“you wanted me to lose control?  fine.  but don’t say i didn’t warn you.” his voice is deep as it reverberates through your chest, your mouth slowly opening to make a response until he quickly cuts you off with his lips fully encasing yours.

you tense into his mouth, your eyes widening until you’re finally able to melt into his touch.  his hands lowering to your waist to pull you taught against his abdomen, his belt rubbing roughly against your stomach, nearly hard enough to leave marks even through your shirt.

you moan into the kiss, your hands falling to the back of his neck at your fingers quickly find his hair, tugging it in multiple directions as your mouths fight for dominance.

you feel his grip on your waist tighten, his knuckles white as he uses your shirt to pull you closer, his feet frantically walking you backwards as you feel your back collapse against your bed, breaking the kiss just long enough to see his perfectly swollen lips and broad shoulders cradling above you.

“this is what you’ve been begging for, huh?” he shoots you a sly smirk before bringing his body to hover over you completely, his knees settling between yours as he uses them to guide your legs apart.

you subtly swallow a gulp, feeling more intimidated than you originally anticipated.

his smirk deepens at your silence, his head dipping down to your ear carefully as he brings his hands up to the hem of your shirt, his cold fingertips slowly running up the skin of your lower abdomen.

“what’s wrong, sweetheart?  thought you could handle it?” you can nearly hear his smile through his voice, his large stature on top of yours making you feel almost completely helpless.

“i can.” you internally curse yourself for sounding so meek, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by professor jeon as a deep, low chuckle emits from his throat and directly into your ear, his hands slowly dragging up further as he begins to lift up your shirt.

“tsk, don’t lie to me baby, you’re already in enough trouble.” his voice is dark and hoarse, his fingers cold from rain as his movements pause just below your breasts, your cheeks heating up softly as you realize you weren’t wearing a bra.

he leans further into the crook of your neck, placing a gentle kiss on your supple skin, your back unconsciously arching into him as you let out a breathless moan.

“is this okay?” his fingers carefully tracing just below your mounds.

you quickly nod, your eyes rolling back as you relish in the feeling of his body against yours.

“words, sweetheart.”

“yes.  this is more than okay.” you say softly, earning a small smile from him as his hands slowly run up your shirt before cupping your breasts fully, his large hands encasing them like they’re his own.

“so perfect.  all for me.” he mutters before diving back into the crook of your neck, his lips dancing along your skin, carefully tracing every patch your body had to offer, the speed and neediness from before being replaced with something more tender and sweet.

you can’t help the moans that leave your mouth as his fingers begin to trace your nipples, examining them with the pads of his fingers as he drags his tongue to the base of your collarbone.

he pulls away from you momentarily to fully lift your shirt off, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to the cold.

“so beautiful.” his hushed praises go straight to your core, your body responding to his every calculated praise.

he leans down, his face eye level with your chest as he takes each nipple in his mouth one at a time, taking care of them with ease, lapping over the buds and leaving you feeling desperate for more.

you feel worn, your breath quickening as you press your legs together in an attempt to relieve some of the heat bubbling within your core, only to quickly be denied by the strength of his knees keeping you pried open for him.

after feeling satisfied with his ministrations, he pulls away, his eyes landing on yours — dark and lustful.

“do you know what you are?” he husks, bringing a hand down to your sides to soothe them gently.

you tilt your head to the side, leaning it against your pillow softly, a small smile creeping onto your face, your eyes hooded, nearly enough to look high.

“what am i?”

“you’re my biggest lesson.”

you quirk a brow at his response, feeling slightly confused and he notices your change in demeanor, his touch becoming slightly more rough as he grips at your sides, pulling you down so your closer to his pelvis.

“i stand in front of that classroom every day, teaching restraint, structure, rules.  but you — you’re pure temptation written between the lines.  you’re like the forbidden fruit.  i should’ve closed the book long ago, but instead, i’m here, crumbling before you.”

his hands grip your sides tighter, his eyes traveling down your body as he speaks, taking a momentary pause to relish in your beauty, everything laid out so perfectly for him.

“you’re the forbidden fruit i can’t put down.  the bad thought i can’t shake from my head.  the red notebook i should’ve never picked up.  and now I want to ruin every page.”

you can almost hear your heart rate increase at his words, every breath more tempting than the last, threatening to leave you laying beneath him for an eternity.

he brings a hand down to the band of your sweatpants, his fingers ducking beneath them just enough to tease you beyond repair.

“let me ruin you.” you nearly let out a moan from his words, only able to respond with the slight shake of a head before he starts undressing you like his favorite book — the cover, the sleeves, tracing each page along the way.

you feel like his muse, a piece of artwork laying beneath him, his eyes scanning you ravenously, taking in every curve and dimple on your body, his hands following suit, you almost didn’t notice when he had undressed as well, too distracted at his hushed praises as he hovers over you on the bed, a hand cupping your hair gently as his eyes gaze into yours.

“i need to hear you say yes, sweetheart.” his voice is a hushed whisper, his hair messily hanging over his forehead as he brings a hand beneath your bodies, his cock nudging at your entrance slowly.

“yes… i want this.” your voice is soft as it fills the air, a small smirk appearing on his lips as he brings a hand up to your mouth, cupping it gently, his head ducking into the crook of your neck.

you close your eyes tightly as he slowly pushes forward, his cock nearly splitting you in two as you let out a sharp gasp into his hand.

“shhh.  good girl.  that’s it.” you can nearly hear the smirk in his voice knowing you would struggle with his size, but his hushed praises are appreciated nonetheless.

his girth was unexplainable, spreading you apart in ways you never knew were possible.  you certainly weren’t inexperienced, but it somehow didn’t matter.  it felt like an eternity before he bottomed out in you, his hips stalling to give you time to adjust, but you’re nearly shaking when you finally come to, the sound of his breathless panting in your ear bringing you back to reality, his hand slipping away from your mouth and down to your hip.

“jungkook?” you whimper, not even realizing that you’ve never called him by his first name before.

“you feel… heavenly.” he groans, his hips stuttering forward sending shockwaves through your core, a small moan slipping past your lips at the sudden jerk.

“so goddamn tight.” he rolls his hips forward slowly, his cock grinding against your walls with ease.

“ahh — jungkook.  please.” you didn’t mean to beg, but his teasing was making it nearly impossible for you to control yourself.

“fuck, you have to be quiet for me, sweetheart.  can you do that?” he continued to slowly roll his hips forward, your body shuddering with every small movement.  you’re only able to nod at him, gentle whimpers falling past your lips as you bite them tightly in an attempt to stay quiet.

he shoots you a glare, but decides not to tease you too much before he sets in on a quicker pace, his cock driving into you with intensity, but not too fast where you’re fighting for your life.

every stretch of his cock was delicious, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you down to meet his thrusts, occasional groans leaving his mouth and falling into the air as you stifle back desperate screams.

“fuck.  you’re perfect.” he grumbles, his voice low with need as he dives back into the crook of your neck, licking it ravenously and you’re unable to suppress a moan, coming out much louder than you had intended.

jungkook slowly pulls away, his eyes meeting yours with a glare as he quirks a brow at you, watching as your face contorts with both pleasure, and discomfort at his size and the inability to be heard.

“sweet girl, you can be quiet, right?” he smirks, his voice teasing as he brings a hand up to grab yours at the wrist, pinning them above your head gently, as if he thought you would break from any more force.

you whimper again, your voice shaky as you let out a meek, “y-yes.”

he tsks at your response, unbelieving as he dives back down into the crook of your neck, his hips picking up their pace as he places gentle kisses on your skin, a deep contrast to the way he was fucking you now, pinned up like a doll.

“wouldn’t want anyone to catch us now would we?  a cute little girl and her teacher, that wouldn’t blow over well i’m sure.” you can nearly hear the smirk in his voice as he speaks in between kisses, trailing them down to your collarbone as your fingers wiggle under his hold.

“n-no.  i’ll be quiet.”

he chuckles lowly, pulling away from you momentarily to appreciate your fucked out state — your forehead slick with sweat, lips puffy and swollen and eyes bloodshot.

“good.  because i have ways to keep you quiet if you’re not sure how.” he drives into you forcefully, a squeal leaving your lips at the sudden intrusion, your stomach feeling like it’s being prodded with every thrust.

he quirks a brow at your noise, his demeanor changing to one slightly stricter as his eyes zero in on yours, almost like a warning.

you bite your lip, shutting your eyes as you feel his thrusts quicken once more, the feeling of his cock driving into you was almost too much, and you couldn’t help the whimpers that left you with every movement of his hips.

he lets go of your wrists gently, his hands going down to your hips as he quickly flips you onto your stomach, a loud gasp from you easily being muffled as he places a hand on the back of your head, pressing it deeper into the confines of your pillow.  you let out a moan of relief knowing you can at least make some time of noise now.

his thrusts quicken now, his other hand going under your stomach to angle your ass up for him, giving him the perfect view as he smirks to himself at how easily you respond to him.

“that’s a girl.  feel better?” his cock prods your g-spot with every flick of his hips, pushing you closer and closer to the edge till it was nearly unbearable.

you shove your head further into the pillow as you moan loudly, your impending orgasm sneaking up on you quickly with the change of positions, making it nearly impossible for you to respond to him.

he feels the way you’re tightening around him, and he can’t help but throw his head back at the sensation of your walls closing in — it was heavenly.

“f-fuck why are you so tight?” his voice gets huskier with every word, his grip on your side tightening as his thrusts become messy, the feeling of your cunt wrapped so deliciously around him driving him to insanity.

you felt euphoric, teetering on the edge of your orgasm and every stroke of his cock only pushed you closer to the brink, it was almost enough to make you dizzy.

“p-please.” you moan, muffled into your pillow but you can tell he can hear you by the way his hand snakes in between your legs, rubbing circles on your clit with perfect accuracy.

you’re barely able to comprehend what’s happening before you’re sent spiraling over the edge, your legs shaking aggressively as you feel a wave of warmth run over your body.

“holy shit.” jungkook curses as he feels you cream over his cock, your cunt tightening so hard it makes it difficult for him to move, his hips stuttering as he does his best to continue his pace.

you’re a moaning mess, your head shoved deep into the pillow by his hand as you feel his cock continue to plow into you, your mind going blank as your body recovers from your orgasm.

“that’s it, baby.  good girl.  shh, i’m right here.” he mumbles barely understandable praises as he messily drives his dick into you, the tension on your g-spot quickly becoming all you can think about as your pleasure suddenly turns into overstimulation.

you’re writhing, unable to respond properly or tell him it’s too much due to his hold on the back of your head, your legs trembling harshly as you feel his hand settle back on your hip, his fingers digging into you hard enough to leave bruises.

“so perfect, fuck.” he breathes out before bottoming out into you, his cock twitching as he spills his seed deep into your cunt, your walls drinking up every last ounce he has to offer, not letting even a drop go to waste.

he lets out a deep moan, his head collapsing against your chest, his breathing unsteady as he rolls into you one last time, your walls milking him for every thing he has left to give.

you bring a hand up to the back of his head, the feeling of his hair between your fingers as you settle into his locks soothing you in ways you didn’t know were possible.

he slowly pulls away from you, your eyes meeting as he smiles at you softly, a hand going down to your hair as he tucks a strand behind your ear peacefully.

“you’re a lot to handle, you know that right?” he chuckles looking down at you.

“i think you did a pretty good job.” 

he smiles softly, “now i just have to learn how to handle you in class.”

[emmyrosee]

Rintaro feels guilty leaving this time.

You’re expected to deliver your twins any day next week, and he’s expected to fly across the country for a charity event he really can’t even think straight for. You've assured him you'll be fine, his sister is more than capable of taking care of you while he's gone, but there's a pit in his stomach about the idea of leaving you.

But you send him anyways. With a kiss on his cheek and a promise to call him every day (if he had it his way, it would be every hour, but you wouldn't go for it).

The trip goes smooth enough, and he's grateful for you staying true to your word and calling him every night. It does make the time pass, you're safe, but he's more than eager to make it home to you.

He practically pushes his teammates out the door, he's the first one on the bus, his knee bounces anxiously the entire time- especially when the bus driver makes a wrong turn into straight construction, thrusting them in traffic for far, far too long without any service.

But you won't call him, right? Why would you, you've called him at night every day he's been here, and nothing of note has happened (not that that’s a negative to Rintaro, he’d rather your days be mundane and boring than active in your pregnancy).

His heart finally starts again once they pull into the airport parking lot, all of the teammates trying to not be annoyed at the events of the morning and trying to stay focused on the next steps of boarding the plane in a few hours.

Rintaro sighs, slipping his phone out and immediately calling you, not taking notice of just how many notifications bombarded his phone.

The line ring once, twice, and his shoulders relax as you finally pick up the phone. "Rin?" You ask, and you sound like you're in discomfort. But he merely brushes it off. You are very pregnant, after all, surely discomfort is normal.

"Hey babe, just got service from being in the bus, we've got a nasty delay because the fuck-head made us miss our fucking flight, so I might be home later than expected-"

“Rin, I'm in labor.”

Silence fills the line.

“No you’re not,” he says simply.

“As much as I would love to be kidding, I’m not. I’m 10 centimeters, babe.”

How you’re so calm right now, is beyond him.

Him, on the other hand, leaps up with absolute panic, a screechy “WHAT?” echoing through the airport. It catches more than a few looks from other people, but all Rin can think about is you.

You in the hospital, legs up in stirrups and gown being the only thing adorning your body. There's probably nurses and doctors everywhere, and Kaiya and Akito on the couch at home with his mother, waiting for the news.

"WHEN?"

"My water broke a few hours ago, got to the hospital with your sister and now they're getting ready for me to push. Your timing truly is impeccable."

“And you thought now was the best time to tell me?!”

“I tried to tell you earlier, but you had no service!” You defend.

Fuck, he could scalp the bus driver for getting fucking lost.

"okay, okay, okay lets calm down-"

You snort, "yeah I'll get right on that."

"Please, for everything unholy, don't joke right now," he pleads, and he hears you offer him a laughy 'sorry' on your end of the line. "Are you okay? Do you feel okay?"

"Well I don't feel particularly good, for all intents and purposes." You direct your attention to something else and he hears bustling in the background, "Rin I have to start pushing. Stay on the line.”

"No! Wait for me, I'll-"

"Yeah I'm not waiting for you," you snip. “I'll... be fine. Just stay on the call okay? For me?

Rintaro tries not to pass out as you start pushing, doctors encouragement coming through on the line, followed with your grunts of agony as you try to bring your two new babies into the world. He knows you’re strong, you don’t need him there, but there’s something deep inside of him that hurts at the idea that you don’t, he’s so close yet no where near close enough to be right there next to you, and he anxiously looks around him as he tries to find a private place for him to cheer you on, call your name, scream it, his soul in agony over something he has no control over.

It could be four minutes or four hours, rintaro has no idea as you finally scream in agony as a small wail breaks over the line, one akin to Akito and Kaiya’s as the two of them entered the world all those years ago.

“Beautiful!” His sister cheers, “just a bit more for Sachiko sis, you’ve got this!”

“No more,” you weakly whimper over the line, and Rintaro tears up as he chews on his thumb.

“Baby,” he chokes, “you’ve got this, okay? You can do this, I’m right here.”

“No you’re not!” You scream.

“Yes I am! I’m right here okay? I’m not going anywhere!”

“Rin I need you-“

“And I’m right here. I promise. Just close your eyes, I’m there, okay?”

Hes not there. He knows you know that. But right now, he can’t feel sorry for himself. He goes silent and listens to the bustling of the doctors and nurses preparing to bring Sachiko into the world, and rintaro has no clue how long it’s been before you’re ready to push again.

“Ready, momma?” He asks, and you let out a sob.

“Im so tired, Rin.”

“One more big push okay?” He chokes. “Push!”

And you do. You let out another shriek as you start to push, rintaro can practically see your legs tremble and face scrunch and throat tight as you let out another blood curdling cry, and before he can think, another set of crying fills the line.

His twins are here.

And he’s not.

“Good job, angel!” He hoots.

“She did so good, Rintaro,” his sister assures.

“I know she did,” he says, hand clutching his heart.

“They’re so handsome Rin,” You babble, and instantly, Rintaro’s face drops. “Such beautiful boys, they're so sweet, so handsome…”

Boys?

Oh fuck. Rintaro briefly thinks back at all the purples and pinks in the closet at home.

Immediately, Rin tries to conjure up an excited tone, squealing out a soft “boys?” in confirmation.

“She’s messing with you," his sister snickers. You’re laughing exhaustedly too, among your sniffles of agony and above the screaming of the newest twin.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” he says, breathless and his chuckles easing out.

“You've got new baby girls, Rintaro," his sister coos.

“We got them, boys!” He announces, causing an uproar of cheers to come from his teammates. He feels his heart sink to his stomach as his throat begins to swell. “I’m so proud of you baby… my good girls.”

“They’re so beautiful, Rin. So beautiful," you cry.

He sits on his suitcase and tries to imagine them, desperately, tiny hands pawing at the air, crying at the newness of the bright light and the world…

All without him. He’s not there.

“Who was born first?” He chokes, desperate to keep his voice steady. It was a complete tossup with the names, whoever was out first or second is precisely how the names would fall. But he just needs you to keep talking to him.

You understand, and you answer shakily, “Sachie,” you sigh. “Sachiko was 20 minutes later.”

“Late; just like momma.”

“Watch it.”

He chuckles around a flood of tears, a hand coming up to bring his hand up to cover his face. Hot, bubbled tears slip down to roll over his thick fingers, trying to stay composed in the airport that’s bustling with too many people.

“Im so proud of you,” he chokes, eyes screwing shut. Not long after, a massive hand claps down on his shoulder, Komori’s eyes flickering with understanding and apology. He’s got nothing to apologize for, but Rintaro takes the kindness regardless and puts a free hand on top of his to squeeze the emotions out. “My amazing girl. Fuck, I can’t wait to see you.”

“Rin, I have to go,” you say, and he hears the gruff voice of the doctor. “I love you so much. Come home safe, you’re no use to me dead.”

“Okay, princess,” he sighs shakily, burying his face in Komori’s stomach to cry. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. You’re gonna be fine.”

He’s 99% sure he should be saying that to you, and not you to him. But regardless.

He waits for the line to die before taking the phone from his ear, blinking up at Komori with absolute heaviness in his heart.

“I should’ve been there,” he whimpers.

“You couldn’t control it, buddy.”

“But I should’ve been there. Not three cities over for some charity that I don't even care about."

It doesn’t matter the assurances Komori could try to pass him. It doesn’t matter that you’re okay, you’re strong and you don’t need him in this moment.

He should’ve been there to squeeze your hand, watch his two babies come into this world with you, kiss your forehead and whisper loving words in your ear.

And he couldn’t manage even that.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Idk if you do n/sfw alphabets or yan! Alphabets but if you do can you do one for remmick?

Remmick Yandere alphabet 

I want to eat this man whole. Sinners had no right being so good and have so many hot people in it, where my Bo lovers at?

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get? 

Remmick seems like the kinda guy who can be like traditionally romantic, like bringing you flowers, gifts, something like kissing the back of your hand. But he also seems like he has moments where he will bite you, feed on you, or hurt you as like “affection”. He can get very intense, like, would break your ribcage open and crawl inside if he could, intense. 

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling? 

Bro, I don't think there's a limit to how bloody he would get when it comes to his darling. Anybody that stands in his way needs to be gotten rid of. 

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them? 

I think it would be something like when you keep a pet mouse or rabbit. He might coo at their struggling or crying, but there's no way he would be scared of them. Maybe mocks them a little bit in an “awww so cute, you want to leave? Adorable” 

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will? 

Honestly? What wouldn't he do against his darling. Hes willing to hurt them, their families, the innocent, so on and so forth. 

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? 

I think his vulnerability is used for manipulation. Like, Remmick going on about how empty he was before his darling showed up, how they are meant together, etc etc. 

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back? 

He finds it adorable, and just kinda thinks his darling is being silly. When he's turned you, then you'll understand what he feels, don't worry love. 

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape? 

Very much a cat and mouse situation, or maybe more like, lion and mouse. Thinks its endearing. 

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them? 

Probably Remmick killing their entire family, all their loved ones, their entire town, etc, etc. He seems like the kinda weirdo who would turn your loved ones as a manipulation tactic. 

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling? 

Wants to be like, a power couple, super romantic, constant honeymoon phase. You are his other half, his light, his sun when he cant see the real deal, you just need to understand. 

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope? 

Very jealous, very possessive. His darling belongs to him and nobody else. Might hurt you as punishment for making him jealous, but lashes more at the perceived threat. 

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling? 

So charming and manipulative like 90% of the time, always meeting your needs and turning your own mind against you kinda manipulation. The 10% is when he gets angry or you press him just far enough, where you feel true terror. 

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling? 

Stalking, so much stalking. You would feel yourself being watched for like, months, maybe even years. Hes got all the time in the world, so why rush it. You will start finding flowers, gifts, and so on, by your front door. Love letters that start out cute but become so creepy and uncomfortable as time goes on. Any man you might have something with go through accidents or go missing. 

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else? 

I don't know honestly. Part of me believes Remmick would think he's doing the right thing so he doesn't act too different, but he might be a little less all over you around others, mainly because no one else deserves to see you smile or pleased. 

Naughty: How would they punish their darling? 

Does the “I'm not mad, I'm disappointed”. Def a bone breaking yandere. So much psychological warfare, you'll think your own mind is betraying you. 

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? 

Uses it to manipulate you, allows you more freedoms when you follow the rules and behave, but just as easily takes them away as punishment. 

Patience: How patient are they with their darling? 

Very patient. Hes got all the time in the world, so there's no need to rush. Might even play the extra long game and make you actually fall in love with him before he springs all the yandere tendencies on you. 

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on? 

Ha, bold of you to assume he would ever let you die. You will only die when he kills you to turn you. And escape? I wish. You might think you have escaped, but Remmick is simply lurking in the shadows, letting you enjoy your make belief freedom for now. 

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go? 

No, he would not. You aren't being let go, and he would not feel guilty about it. Maybe feels a little bad when you scream and cry, but you'll understand with time darling. 

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)? 

His known backstory, with him losing everything and being oppressed. And then being a vampire for who knows how many years. 

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves? 

Thinks its cute, would wipe your tears away and coo at you even when you try to punch or claw at him. 

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere? 

Would feed on you if he hasn't turned you. Like mentioned earlier, Remmick would turn all your loved ones to push you to accept him quicker, which I feel is very different from the classic yandere. 

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape? 

Honestly? I don't know, I can't think of much outside of normal vampire weaknesses. But you also won't get the chance to have access to any of those things. I think your own escape would be taking your own life if you ever escape long enough to do so. 

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling? 

Yes, but he sees it as a necessary evil for you to behave and understand. It hurts now, but you'll agree with his actions later. 

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over? 

I don't think he worships you the same level as one would a God, but he does make you feel like a king when you do get turned. He would still revere you, but not enough to give you passes or give you access to his weaknesses. 

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap? 

I think he's snapped from the start tbh. Homie has never once been normal since he got turned, what is there to snap? He could stalk you for years though, before he swoops in and takes you. 

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling? 

Oh yeah, no doubt about it. Does the most horrible psychological torture too. Physical too. When he turns you, that also counts as breaking his darling I think, cuz you two just kinda mesh into one being and all that. 

[enhani-ki]

ENHYPEN AS YOUR "HOMEBOY"

warnings : very short, maybe a little suggestive :)

HEESEUNG

your homeboy who's too naturally flirty. it happens all the time that you don't even catch it anymore—you thought you'd become numb or immune to it.

you're his food buddy. you always share bites and judge menus together.

sometimes you'll talk about something deep like fear of failure or what dreams even mean anymore—and he'll tell you how far you've come, or let's you know just how proud he is of you. sometimes you'll get shy and flustered, sometimes you'll roll your eyes, and sometimes, you just straight up cry.

"what?" he'd say, all wide-eyes and innocent. "what did i say?" "what the hell did i do?"

if it were anyone else, they'd fall for him every time.

JAY

your homeboy who shows you love through quiet actions. he surprises you with either little or big gifts like: a drink you mentioned once, a charm you saw at a stall, jewelry, or a designer t-shirt you've been eyeing nonstop. doesn't need a 'thank you' and never ever made a big deal out of anything.

jay loves taking naps with you. he's also not loud but for sure gets that random energy burst. sometimes he starts yapping, your heads would bump together because he's moving so much.

truth is, he'll probably do and give you whatever you ask. jay loves seeing you happy and he loves it more when you're comfortable in life.

JAKE

your homeboy who treats you like you're one of his beloved dogs. he loves taking walks with you outside and he's always affectionate. he touches your back or waist, sometimes he gets protective without realizing it.

jake gets those bursts of cute aggression whenever he looks at you, randomly slapping your thighs (gently?) while laughing biting his lip or biting his tongue out.

like heeseung, he's also naturally flirty.

his eyes light up and he gets excited when you let him treat you or spoil you even a little.

SUNGHOON

your homeboy who always clock your tea. he always bickers with you and nagging like you've been married to him for 15 years.

he tries to be patient but will 100% call you out when you start acting dumb or when you don't take him seriously. still, he's the one who gets worried the most for you, always checking in on you.

karaoke nights. he shows you his exclusive tiktoks. whenever he goes shopping with you, sunghoon wants you to take everything you want and he just pay for it.

SUNOO

your homeboy who matches your energy so perfectly. you're both full of genuine love and compliments, it's like a competition on who loves who more.

you do skincare or make-up together. you both take each other on dates and post cute pictures with lovey-dovey captions.

with him, it's glittery, chaotic, and lowkey kind of romantic. he's your soulmate for real.

JUNGWON

your chillest homeboy. makes sure you're fed, makes sure you both went to the place you wanted to check out, he lets you pick where to eat, and like to puts a hand in your shoulder while walking together.

he always has the best reactions whenever he listens to your rants. jungwon knows all your gossip, even knows the life story of people he's never met.

always calm, unbothered, and quietly devoted to your comfort. people are always mistaking you for a couple though.

NI-KI

your clingiest homeboy but be on some nonchalant shit sometimes, it's annoying. dramatically calls you into his room for an 'emergency' only to ask you to turn off the light because he's too cozy to move.

he runs to you when the others tease him and back him into the corner. "can you tell them i'm right?" "back me up, please? just this once?" even though you always do.

you message each other every day. he always win at every games, makes fun of you, then feel bad after.

ni-ki loves his nap sessions with you, sometimes you even wake up with his arms wrapped around your waist.

fake trips and you have no idea why. he loves it because you spoil him all the time but when it's his turn to do the same for you? it's 1000/10, chef's kiss, he knows everything you want and he'll give it to you.

note : i hope i understood what platonic means TT

マスターリストm.list

[wow-thisismylifeiguess]

Cryptid Bruce

Martha and Thomas Wayne struggled to have a child for years and Thomas meets a shady man who tells him that a child will come to them soon

Thomas just ‘??? okaaaaaay’s him but in a week, Martha bursts into his office looking frazzled

“We’re being haunted.”

“….”

“Don’t give me that look, Thomas Wayne. The Manor. It’s haunted. Alfred! Tell him we’re being haunted!”

And Alfred comes in, also looking frazzled but to a lesser degree.

The two explain that things are moving around the Manor without any kind of explanation, but Thomas doesn’t believe them. Until he notices things in his office also being moved. The weirdest event is when they start hearing a child’s giggles. No explanation. None.

Not until Thomas, sleep deprived after going over paperwork for one too many hours, pops into the kitchen and…there is a child. Sitting on the kitchen counter.

The child, a boy, turns. Grins. Waves.

“Hi, daddy.”

—

Bruce, they name him, can melt into shadows. He finds it hilarious. Martha thinks she’s going to go grey at her young age. She adores him. Thomas adores him. He’s their son now.

The Waynes have a mysterious child, but they keep their private lives very private, so maybe they just successfully hid a pregnancy? And then a child. For…three years. They think Bruce is three, at least.

Despite how odd of a child Bruce is, they love him dearly. He’s some kind of miracle. A…very weird, possibly magical(?) miracle.

—

Dick thinks his adoptive father is strange. Extremely strange. Bruce makes absolutely no noise when he moves. He doesn’t cast shadows but he seemingly is able to *blend into them*. His smile, whilst genuine, seems a little too sharp.

He thinks he’s a vampire.

Bruce laughs so hard, he doubles over.

“No, but I am the Batman, so I guess you’re not far off.”

“…is this a joke?”

“Nope.”

“A dream?”

Bruce pinches him and Dick yelps.

Bruce doesn’t explain to Dick what he is, because he doesn’t have a clue himself. He just…is.

—

But when Jason comes along, he has a million and one questions. Bruce blinks at him.

“How did you do that? You literally *melted* into the shadows!”

Bruce shrugs.

“No. *No*. Explain.”

“I…can’t.”

“You said no secrets, B!”

Bruce puts his hands up defensively. “It’s not a secret! I really don’t know! It just…kind of happens.”

Jason stares at him. Bruce stands there. He seems to flicker? The edges of his body go a bit transparent and Dick knows he only does that when he’s stressed.

“Leave him alone, Jay. He’s telling the truth. He’s just…like that. But he’s still Bruce.”

It takes Jason two months to accept it. By then, his questions are more from genuine intrigue and wonder. He hides under Batman’s cape and somehow it’s spacious? It can even fit Dick at the same time. No one (but Bruce) can even hear them when they’re under there.

And then one day, when he goes to take a nap under Bruce’s cape, someone else is there.

“….B?”

“…”

“You know what I’m going to ask.”

“…”

“*Bruce*.”

“No real names, Robin.”

“No one can hear me!”

“…I didn’t kidnap him.”

“What his name?”

“Timothy Drake.”

“FROM DRAKE INDUSTRIES?”

And Tim wakes up, rubbing his eyes. He looks exhausted and way too skinny, and all of a sudden, Jason understands why Dick has cooed at him the first night Bruce brought him home.

“Um…hi.”

“B, we’re keeping him.”

Jason doesn’t need to see Bruce’s face to know he’s smiling.

—

Damian just…appears. Bruce suddenly understands his parents’ reactions to his first appearance because nearly the same exact thing happens. Bruce wakes up from a nap. He doesn’t need to sleep very often, something Tim finds incredibly annoying, declaring it to be *unfair*. He wakes up, and curled against his chest is…a boy. Who looks a *lot* like him.

“Uh.”

The child wakes up, blinks at him w striking green eyes.

“Hello Father.”

What the fuck.

Dick slams his way into Bruce’s office, followed by Jason and Tim, who are bickering with each other.

“DAAAAAAAD, THEY WON’T SHU- oh. Steal another kid?”

“…he just appeared.”

“That’s the excuse you used for Jason.”

“No. Literally. I fell asleep. No kid. Woke up. Kid.”

“My name is Damian.”

“That’s no fair. You came pre-named?”

Damian is as odd as Bruce. Actually, he’s weirder. And stabby. Bruce finds him *delightful*. He adores him.

—

Dick is Nightwing, Jason is Red Hood (no death, he just thought it was a cool name), Tim is Red Robin, and Damian’s Robin.

Bruce is Batman. Despite being in his late 30s, he still looks like he’s in his mid 20s.

—

Batman stands in front of a bank robber who’s going on about their evil bank robbing plans. Nightwing pops his head out from beneath Batman’s cape.

“Can you get to the point?”

Red Hood pops out next.

“I’m getting bored.”

Red Robin follows.

“This is sad.”

Damian.

“Scum.”

Batman sighs.

“Why are all of you here?”

“Missed you.”

They all chime in.

The robber.

“How…how the *fuck-?*”

“Language. There are kids around.”

“B, I’m 23.”

“Says the boy taking a nap in my cape. And I was talking about Red Robin and Robin.”

“…’s comfy.”

“I’m eighteen???”

“F- Batman! I am not a child!”

There’s some shuffling sounds, no doubt Red Hood moving over to ruffle Robin’s hair.

“Whatever you say, Tiny Demon.”

And then Red Hood shrieks.

“No stabbing your brothers, Robin.”

“He called me small!”

“…you are.”

“This is insulting, F- Batman. I will grow to be as big as you. No. *Bigger*.”

The robber watches in confusion, mild amusement, and horror.

Batman sighs.

“We’ll talk about this later. Now, you were saying? Blowing up the bank, terrorizing the people.” Batman yawns. “Anything else?”

“Just take me to Arkham. I think I’m insane.”

[moonstruckme]

Hi!

I just watched 'me before you' (so sad wtf)

Anyways the one scene with the bumblebee tights? I can't stop thinking about it and was wondering if you could write something with whimsical!reader and the marauders (individual or poly) inspired by that?

Oh that is the cutest little storyline! Thanks for the request angel <3

cw: reader has hair long enough to have a clip in, but the hair itself isn't described

James Potter x whimsical!reader ♡ 1k words

James grins at the blue vervain hung above your front door before he knocks three times, hiding the small gift bag behind his back. You open with an easy smile on your face. It widens once you see him. 

“James,” you say, voice a pleased hum. “I thought we already went on our date?” 

“We did,” James agrees, “yesterday, but…” he digs in his pocket “...I think you left this in my car.” 

“Oh.” Your eyes widen delightedly at the large acorn he holds out in his palm. “I did! I was going to call and tell you, but I thought surely by this morning it would be gone.” 

James feels his eyebrows bunch even as he smiles. “Where would it have gone, lovely?” 

“Well, it’s a very nice acorn, so I thought for certain faeries would pluck it up if I left it unattended. I wouldn’t have blamed them, it’s only fair.” 

James doesn’t see anything particularly remarkable about the acorn—aside from it being rather large—but you often see beauty in stuff that James doesn’t. It’s one of the things he loves about you. He’s learned that you collect these sorts of things the way other people might collect postage stamps; it’s not for him to question. 

“I’m glad it was still there, though,” you say, pushing up on your toes to give him a kiss that, in James’ opinion, is far too brief. “Thank you for keeping it safe.” 

“It was no problem.” He leans forward for another kiss, but you’re already turning, disappearing into your home. 

He follows you inside, though you haven’t invited him in—sometimes these things simply don’t seem to occur to you; James is learning to interpret your cues. 

“You look lovely today,” he says. 

You send him a curious look. “You always say that.” 

“It’s always true.” 

“It can’t be the same amount of true every time,” you say, finding a place for your acorn on the windowsill above your kitchen sink. You’ve a small collection of things there, from propagated plants to dead bugs to little origami stars. 

“Can’t it?” James asks. 

“My hair never looks exactly the same,” you point out, not arguing so much as musing in the way you’re given to, “and last week when you saw me I didn’t have any spots, but today I have two.” 

James captures you in a gentle embrace, his hand on your cheek. “You’re just as lovely,” he vows, kissing you, “every single time.” 

Your eyes have gone soft and cloudy; you’re easily mollified. “If you say so.” 

“I do.” He kisses you again, smiling. “I have something for you.” 

“Mm, for me?” 

“Who else?” He reveals the gift bag. The tips of his fingers are buzzing with excitement. “Open it.” 

You take the bag, appearing bemused. “It’s not my birthday.” 

“I know that.” 

“Is it a holiday?” 

“No.” 

You look at James, still not opening the bag. “What’s this for, then?” 

“Maybe I just like to give you things,” he says. “It made me think of you.” 

“Oh.” You relax, the mystery resolved. “Because you’re nice.” 

“Sure. Would you just open it, please?” 

“Okay.” You give James a puzzled sort of smile, but part the folds of the bag. “Oh.” Your voice softens as you look inside. “Oh, James, this is lovely.” 

“Yeah?” he asks, suddenly nervous as you draw it out. Up until just this moment, he’d felt nothing but confidence that you would love it, but now he’s unsure. “Do you like it?” 

“Yes.” You turn over the barrette in your hand, expression awed. It’s a dragonfly, larger than life and incredibly detailed, with wings an iridescent green color that shimmer in the light coming in through your kitchen window. “It goes in my hair?” 

“Yeah, but there’s a trick to making it work.” James leans closer, giddy. “Can I show you?” 

You nod mutely, and he leans over, blowing gently on the gift. 

In the palm of your hand, the dragonfly comes to life. You gasp as its wings shift and flutter, the colors becoming even more vibrant. If you look really closely, even its tail is moving, the only still part of it the legs so that they stay fixed in your hair while you’re wearing it. It took a nifty bit of charmwork to achieve that amount of specificity. 

Your eyes are alight with wonder. It’s the sweetest thing James has ever seen, and he knows—if the ministry cracks down on him, if he’s never allowed to practice magic again—he knows he’s done the best thing. 

“It’s beautiful,” you say, softly, as though afraid to scare the creature. “Where did you find this?” 

“Just—at a market.” James tries to sound casual. “It was a pop-up, I think. Cool that they make them like this, yeah?” 

You make a sound of agreement, eyes still on the dragonfly as it begins to settle down. “It’s like magic.” 

James leans over to kiss your forehead. “Want me to put it on for you?” 

Your expression lights up as though the possibility hadn’t yet occurred to you. “Could you? Please?” 

“Of course, lovely. Give it here.” 

You transfer the barrette to James�� hand delicately. He smiles at how preciously you treat it, turning you by your shoulder to fix it in the back of your head. Once he gets it situated—James really isn’t very experienced at styling hair—he draws you into the bathroom so you can approve. 

“Can you blow on it?” you ask when he holds up a mirror for you to see the back of your head, barely leashed excitement in your tone. 

James does, and you make the most elated sound he’s ever heard from you. He laughs as you turn to put your arms around him, his soft-spoken, placid girl nearly jumping with glee. 

“Thank you,” you say, pressing your lips to his. “Thank you, James. No one’s ever gotten me anything so thoughtful.” 

James reckons he has a thing or two left to do about that.

[allyricas]

imagine if eddie never got caught up in the upside down stuff in season 4. all the same people are still vecna'd, but chrissy never sought out eddie for drugs at school that day so he is oblivious to everything going on.

maybe he spends spring break playing music with the guys and getting drunk in the back of his van.

or, better yet, he's not even in town at all. he and the other members of corroded coffin are in indy for battle of the bands.

in fact, he literally has no clue what happened until he sees the news about the earthquake and he rushes back to make sure uncle wayne is alright. he's freaking out because when he calls his trailer numerous times, no one answers. he tries calling the plant to look for his uncle and they say he didn't show up to work.

chrissy was too intimidated to seek him out at school even in the privacy of the woods, so instead later that evening she goes to the trailer to look for him. she still gets vecna'd and the trailer becomes a gate.

eddie is never a suspect since he has a verifiable alibi. wayne still finds chrissy's body the next morning and still helps by telling nancy about henry creel. he can tell the teens are about to do something reckless and dangerous so he gets involved and ends up in the upside down instead of eddie.

he turns out to be very handy with various weapons and has a mind for battle strategy thus the party having a much better plan.

they win this time. steve gets really hurt, like nearly dies. wayne is the one who carries him out of the upside down and helps make sure he doesn't bleed out. they form a bond and wayne refuses to leave his side at the lab.

which is why eddie can't get ahold of him.

imagine eddie rushing back into hawkins only to eventually find out chrissy cunningham died on the porch of his trailer and that no one's heard from his uncle in days. he finds out from dustin that his uncle is at the hospital standing vigil over steve harrington's bedside, of all freaking people.

wayne looks pretty roughed up, but he's safe and he's okay. eddie is so relieved to see him with his own eyes that the reality of everything doesn't really sink in.

after everything is settled, the government compensates wayne with a new home. everything could have been a lot worse were he not involved and the earthquake split the trailer in two.

it's nothing fancy, just a three bedroom home on a nice plot of land. it's cosy and there's room for a fire pit in the backyard, maybe even a garden and a chicken coop. wayne manages to make anywhere feel like home, but this place has a certain charm.

once steve is well enough to go home, wayne all but insists that steve comes home with him and eddie. wayne tells steve he has a permanent home with him, that they're family. for once in his life, steve let's himself be loved and taken care of by an adult. wayne is everything his parents could never be.

wayne's heard all about steve's parents, noted that they never showed up to see their son and wayne doesn't want steve rotting alone in his big house. wayne always had a habit of picking up strays after all.

the problem with the situation is, of course, that eddie doesn't like steve. in fact, he absolutely cannot stand him and does not understand why his uncle is suddenly so close with him.

he steadfastly believes in his munson doctrine and has no plans to reevaluate. steve is a douchebag jock. in his mind, there's no way he has actually changed into this funny, dorky man who hangs out with his uncle for fun and drives around the younger teens just because he likes them.

he can't actually be best friends with band nerd robin buckley or close to his ex and her boyfriend. he can't be the man who put his body in front of someone else's. he can't be the man who smiles softly at eddie while he makes his snarky comments and refuses to budge and inch on his dislike.

steve harrington who helps his uncle plant a garden and build his chicken coop. who cooks and bakes far better than some rich kid should be able to. who asks about his band and hellfire and his books. who is far funnier than he has any right to be.

so, eddie is all snarky comments and rolled eyes every time he comes home to wayne and steve watching a game together. he is so jealous and can't say anything since wayne adores the guy...and since steve almost died.

he pretends that all the things he's learning about him must be a trick or a lie. steve can't be this person who fits so seamlessly into his life. even the other members of his band warm up to him

eddie will not budge. nope. never.

wayne knows his nephew. knows that eddie would like steve if he just gave him a chance. watches the way his nephew watches steve and waits for the day the eddie realizes what he thinks is loathing is a lot closer to something else. he loves the boy, but knows what a stubborn ass he can be.

steve likes eddie immediately and thinks he's adorable. he thinks eddie is cute when he's annoyed, enjoys the way he huffs and rolls his eyes. he is content to wait for eddie to catch up. he and wayne gossip over coffee and the subject has come up a time or two (or many) and wayne insists that eddie will figure it out eventually.

imagine a world where eddie never gets involved with the upside down but wayne does. even in this world he and steve are inevitable. wayne sees it the minute he watches them interact the first time in the hospital. he has a feeling they'd have found their way to each other somehow. he knows steve was meant to be apart of their family.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “WHY ARE YOU CRYING LAIN.” ── .✦ ( what it takes for batboys to cry about their s/o btw I don’t see this as angst!reader but I’m writing a angst fic soon!! )

a/n: this is a request by (here) anyways 620 followers under a month?!?! What the hell tysmm this was shocking to wake up to anywayss um yeah here, I genuinely think this was like only a general hcs of what only batboys cry over but I turned it into like a s/o hc too so sorry tags: ( batboys x s/o )

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Losing You, Even Momentarily: Dick is the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, so the idea of losing you whether you’re hurt, missing, or even distant emotionally breaks him in ways he doesn’t know how to hide. If you were ever critically injured during a mission or got caught in the crossfire or a health scare, he’d hold you in his arms, tears streaming down his face as he begs, “Don’t you dare leave me. I can’t lose you. You’re everything to me.”

When You’re Hurt Emotionally: Dick is empathetic to his core. If he ever caught you crying, struggling silently, or feeling like you couldn’t talk to him, he’d break down too. “Why didn’t you come to me? You’re not alone—you’re never alone.” His voice would crack as he hugs you, feeling helpless because he wants to fix it but doesn’t know how.

A Fight That Goes Too Far: Dick hates arguing, but sometimes even he loses control. If words were exchanged that hurt you, he’d cry after you left, clutching his face in his hands because he knows he messed up. He’d spend the entire night trying to fix it because the thought of you being upset because of him kills him. (He has a bit of people pleasing tendencies like me 😭)

JASON TODD ── .✦

Thinking He Doesn’t Deserve You: Jason has deep-seated feelings of unworthiness, and if he ever felt like you deserved better or like you might leave because he’s “too broken,” he’d quietly lose it. You’d find him sitting on the edge of the bed, tears in his eyes as he mutters, “Why are you even with me? I don’t want to ruin you too.”

You in Danger: Jason prides himself on protecting the people he loves, but if there were ever a moment where he couldn’t save you where you were hurt or out of his reach he’d shatter. Holding your unconscious body, he’d whisper through gritted teeth and tears, “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m sorry—I should’ve been faster. Stronger.”

Fighting and Losing Control: Jason fears becoming the worst version of himself. If you ever fought and he lost his temper, saying something he didn’t mean, he’d be crushed afterward. He’d cry silently in his room, replaying the fight over and over in his head, scared you wouldn’t forgive him.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

You Pulling Away: Tim doesn’t always know how to balance his work and love for you. If he noticed you drifting away or feeling neglected because of his vigilante life, he’d hit a breaking point. One night, he’d find himself sitting alone, staring at his phone, tears silently falling as he whispers, “I don’t want to lose you. I’ll do better—I promise.”

When You’re in Pain: Tim’s logical brain often protects him from his emotions, but seeing you in pain—physically or emotionally would be his undoing. He’d try to keep it together for you, but once he’s alone, he’d sit at his desk, head in his hands as sobs wrack his body because he hates seeing the person he loves suffer.

If You’re Gone (Even Temporarily): If you ever went missing or were presumed dead, Tim would break in ways no one else would see. He’d bury himself in work, desperately trying to find you, but in the quiet hours, he’d collapse on the floor surrounded by papers and maps, tears streaming down his face as he murmurs, “Please come back to me. Please.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Failing to Protect You: Damian is fiercely protective of the people he loves, and if you were ever hurt on his watch, it would destroy him. He’d stay at your bedside, barely speaking, but his tears would fall silently as he holds your hand and says, “You are strong so much stronger than me. I am sorry I let this happen.”

Realizing You’re Hurt by Him: Damian doesn’t always know how to express himself, and if he ever unintentionally hurt you—through sharp words or coldness—he’d crumble. He’d isolate himself, his back to the door as he mutters to himself, “I am unworthy of their love. I am no better than the monsters I fight.”

If You Were Gone: Damian doesn’t cry easily, but if he lost you, he’d lock himself away for days. No one would hear his sobs as he grips something of yours—a sweater, a necklace and whispers, “I failed you. I should have been stronger. I would trade anything to bring you back.”

GENERAL ( WITHOUT LOSING YOU OR GETTING HURT YK? ) ── .✦

Dick: He’d cry watching you do something incredibly mundane—like laughing at a joke or helping a stranger because he realizes how lucky he is to have you. The thought of a life without you, even for a second, shakes him to his core.

Jason: He’d cry when he thinks about how you’ve accepted him so completely. “You don’t look at me like I’m broken,” he’d say through tears, pulling you into a hug. “You love me. No one’s ever loved me like this before.”

Tim: He’d cry in relief after a near-miss—maybe you were almost hurt on patrol, but you’re okay. He’d break down in your arms, holding you tightly. “I can’t lose you. You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.”

Damian: He’d cry quietly while watching you sleep, overwhelmed by how much he loves you. He’d brush your hair from your face and murmur, “You are my heart, beloved. Without you, I would have none.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

The Fear of Losing You: Bruce has already lost so much his parents, allies, and people he couldn’t save. If you were ever gravely injured or put in harm’s way, he’d be stoic at first, tending to your wounds or making sure you’re stable. But when the danger is over and he’s alone, the walls would finally break. He’d sit in the Batcave, hands trembling, staring at the blood on his gloves and whispering, “I can’t lose you too. I couldn’t survive that.” His tears would fall silently because he rarely lets himself cry but for you, the thought of losing you would be unbearable.

When You Break Down First: Bruce is emotionally guarded, but if he ever saw you crying really crying because of something he caused or something he failed to protect you from, it would destroy him. He’d pull you into his arms, his voice shaky as he mutters, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear on everything, I will never let this happen again.” When you’ve fallen asleep, he’d sit beside you, quietly crying to himself because the person he loves more than anything is in pain.

During a Rare, Heated Argument: Bruce doesn’t lose control often, but when he does, his words can cut deep. If a fight escalated to the point where you walked away, leaving him standing there in silence, the guilt would eat him alive. He’d find himself sitting alone in the dark manor, hands in his hair as he whispers, “I can’t believe I let that happen. I promised I’d be better.” He wouldn’t hesitate to apologize immediately, but he’d cry later when he realized how close he came to pushing you away.

Realizing You’re the Light in His Life: Bruce is haunted by his past, and sometimes, the weight of his mission makes him forget the beauty in life. But when he sees you—laughing, smiling, or simply existing—he realizes you are the brightest thing in his world. He wouldn’t cry in front of you, but in a rare, quiet moment alone, he’d sit in his study with tears in his eyes, overwhelmed. “I don’t deserve them. But I won’t let anything happen to them. Ever.”

If You Were Gone: Bruce would completely unravel. He’s already built his life around loss, but you? You were his hope, his reason to believe in something beyond the cowl. Without you, he’d wander the manor like a ghost, sitting by your favorite chair or staring at a photo of you for hours. In the dead of night, when no one is around, he’d finally let himself grieve—hands gripping the edges of a desk, shoulders shaking as he whispers your name like a prayer. (Madonna ref?)

MOMENTS WHERE BRUCE GETS EMOTIONAL ── .✦

Seeing You Safe After a Scare: If you ever came home late or after a dangerous night out, Bruce would hold you tightly, kissing the top of your head and murmuring, “You’re home. You’re okay. That’s all that matters.” His voice would crack slightly, betraying the emotion he tries to hide.

When You Remind Him of His Humanity: Bruce isn’t always good with words, but when you’re there—kissing him goodnight, teasing him about his brooding, or cooking something terribly but with love he remembers what happiness feels like. He’d quietly brush a tear away as he watches you, thinking, “They make this life worth living.”

If You Call Him Out on His Guilt: If Bruce ever tried pushing you away because he thought you’d be safer without him, and you confronted him with a heartfelt speech about loving him no matter what, he’d break. He’d pull you into his arms, tears falling as he whispers, “You don’t know how much you mean to me. I can’t lose you. I need you.”

[luveline]

Something for hotch? Maybe where reader gets hurt/a concussion on a case and goes to the hospital but refuses to tell him she went until someone else mentions it?? <3 you dont have to do it if you have something similar but i love your writing!

ty for requesting!! <3 —Hotch will look after you, even when you don’t tell him you need him. fem, 1.7k

cw reader has a concussion

Hotch rubs his face when he knows nobody’s watching. Hand over his eyes, thumb and forefinger working against a brewing migraine. It eases a little of the tension there, but he can’t do it like you can. There’s something in your hands that makes him want to call them lovely hands, such a quaint word. You rub the space between his brows with your thumb until his aching is gone or replaced. Fondness with its own heartbeat wakes whenever you’re near. 

You’re not near. His head hurts. He wants a cup of coffee and a shower and to call Jack. The cases are never over when they’re over, is the thing, and he can’t keep track of everything. He has to answer questions and patch holes now, before the work follows him home to take up space on his desk. 

He talks to police officers, chiefs, victims families and firemen and Penelope, too, anybody who needs to ask him a question. He tells Emily to go back to the hotel because she’s exhausted, and warns Spencer that staying too long will give him another headache. He’s surprised half an hour later when Morgan grabs him by the arm. Hotch assumed he went with Spencer. 

“Hotch, what are you still doing here?” 

Hotch gives him a strange look. It’s not as though Morgan hasn’t seen Hotch clean up a mess before. “Sorry?” 

“I thought you’d be with Y/N.” 

He tries very hard to look casual. The team are often better at pretending they haven’t noticed you and Hotch slowly moving together. “She went home.” 

“No she didn’t, they took her in an ambulance. She’s at the hospital, nobody told you that?” 

Hotch knows Morgan can finish up for him. He doesn’t even say where he’s going or what there is left to do, Morgan is more than capable of handling the unit, and he’s a phone call away. Hotch rushes for an agent with a car and tells them where he needs to go as he punches your speed dial into his phone. Number three, after Penelope and Jess. 

You don’t answer, it makes him feel sick. He calls again and JJ picks up. Blessed, amazing JJ. 

“Hi Hotch.” 

“Is she there? Can I speak to her?” 

“She went in for an MRI a half hour ago.”

“JJ, what happened? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” 

“She said she told you.” A dry laugh from down the phone. “You’d think I’d learn not to trust her. I love her, but she’s a liar.” 

Hotch could say the same thing. “JJ, what happened? What’s wrong with her?” 

“I think she’s embarrassed. When everybody was coming back out, someone stepped on the back of her leg and she slipped down the stairs.” 

“Who stepped on her?” Hotch asks. 

JJ laughs. Hotch wonders if they’re too far into working together to scold her for unprofessionalism, but then he remembers the Unit would fall apart without her and holds his tongue. He’d fall apart without you, maybe, and he could stand to be a little more defensive. 

He’s out of the car and into the hospital in record time. He follows the signs to the Emergency Room, gives your name at the desk, and doesn’t have to flash his badge to get told what room they’ve put you in. He would’ve, and he would’ve threatened legal action. He’s no saint. He’ll abuse the system (in innocuous ways only, of course) if it means he gets to see you. 

You’re in a bed but sitting on the side of it rather than laying down. JJ sits in the chair beside you, two contrasting expressions on your faces. You’re smiling. JJ bites her lip. 

She turns to Hotch with relief. “Hey, look,” she says gently. 

“You took a long time to get here. Was it the moon?” 

Hotch understands quite quickly. “Sorry. Nobody told me you got hurt. What happened to the moon, honey?” 

You give him a vacant look. Turning back to JJ, your hands vying for her arm, you hold her to your stomach gently and squeeze your eyes closed. “The light.” 

Hotch turns to the wall, looking for the light switch. It’s hidden behind other concerning tech, so he’s careful about what he presses. You sigh and draw his attention, wiggling back on the bed to almost fall off the other side. 

“Maybe she thought she told me,” he suggests, not scolding JJ, but unhappy nonetheless. You clearly aren’t in a state to make decisions for yourself. 

JJ rubs your arm. “She got worse after we got here. That’s why they sent for her MRI so quickly. She’s on and off with it, incoherent and normal again.”   

Hotch knows she’s concerned for you, but he can read her restless leg; she hasn’t talked to Will or heard about Henry in hours. “Go back to the hotel, JJ. I have her.” 

JJ gives you a hug, to your confusion, and bypasses him fast. He can hear her phone ringing before the doors shut from her departure. 

He admires her loyalty, he just wishes she’d called him two hours ago. 

You rub your eyes, the loose sleeves of your hospital gown shifting against the loose knot behind your neck, and he genuinely despises the idea that you’d been here, hurt, without him. “Can I tie your gown again?” he asks. 

You nod into your rubbing. 

“I turned the lights off. It shouldn’t be so bright in here anymore.” He rounds the bed to your back, where a great deal of skin is showing. He smiles though he shouldn’t. You poor girl. “You’re a little… stark.” 

“I’m trying to think of some fruit and milk,” you tell him. 

“Do you need help?” 

“Not for the fruit.” 

“But for the milk,” he surmises, bringing the ties of your gown as close as he can without strangling you and tying them in a neat bow. 

“I don’t think that’s what I meant to say.” 

He puts his hand on your shoulder, his thumb to bare skin. “That’s okay, honey, you’re having a little trouble now, but it’ll go away soon. If there were something wrong, the doctor would be here.” 

“You could be a doctor.” 

“I couldn’t. I don’t know anything about medicine.” 

“A very nice doctor. Big hands.” You breathe out loudly, more animated than he’s ever heard you. “Whoo, I’m cold. I think they made me naked.” 

“How about I tuck you in, would you like that?” he asks, leaning over you in hopes of you turning your head. 

You stare up at him. “You want to?” 

“I’d love to. I want you to be comfortable.” 

“My boyfriend might not like it.” 

Hotch tries not to sulk at another horrible symptom. You aren’t only incoherent, but amnesiac. And you’ve forgotten who he is, in a way. At least you’ve remembered you have a boyfriend. He hopes it’s him. 

“No? Why wouldn’t he like it, honey? I’m just trying to take care of you.” 

You visibly fluster. “You’re calling me honey like he does, and he won’t like it ‘cos he takes care of me. He loves to go to places but he doesn’t know where he’s going.” 

That second half is gibberish, he’s sure. Hotch puts his hands carefully under your armpits and manoeuvres you back toward the top of the elevated hospital bed.

You put your hand to your tummy as you lean back, and hiss as your head touches the pillows. “Ow.” 

“Sorry,” he murmurs. 

“Don’t tell Aaron I got hurt.” 

“Why not?” 

“I fell down the stairs. He’s never fallen down the stairs.” 

“I have, actually. Twice. And it doesn’t matter how you get hurt, I want to know you’re alright, so I need you to tell me.” 

He pulls the sheets up to your legs and over your lap. Tucks them tightly behind your back, hands lingering on your hips. He watches you look at him, your cloudy gaze tracking over his eyes, his nose, and his lips. “Aaron?” you ask eventually, lifting your chin. 

“Yes?” 

You breathe out an unmissable sigh of relief. “You didn’t come with me.” 

“I didn’t know you were hurt.” He squeezes your hip softly. “You didn’t tell me. But it’s not your fault, is it? You got hurt.” His voice falls into silk. “Is that warm enough?” 

“I’m glad you’re here. I need you to get my shoes.” 

“No shoes. Can I have a hug?” 

“Why?” 

“Just to hug you,” he says softly. “It might make you feel better.” 

You raise your hands clumsily like your fingers are full of sand, forcing him to see his arms under them and behind your back. Your cheeks align, his rough with stubble, yours warm with the heat of a flush, perhaps from the injury. Your hands flop down onto his back as he rubs two separate, loving paths on the gown and your skin. 

Thank god she’s okay, he thinks. 

“Am I stuck like this?” you ask. 

“Are you worried?” He taps your back. “I doubt it. We might have to stay here for a while, but it’s okay. Feeling better is the priority.” 

“I’d like to go back.” 

“Home?” 

“For breakfast.” 

“Are you hungry? I can find you something to eat.” 

“What?” you ask. 

You sound so genuinely confused that Hotch laughs into your shoulder, before giving the fabric a soft kiss. “It doesn’t matter. I’m gonna bring that chair over and sit with you, okay? We’ll wait for the doctor together.” 

He sits with you for hours, talks to doctors and nurses alike as they come to check your vitals and explain your scans. Your confusion doesn’t lessen until the night time, and even then you act oddly, bringing his hand to your mouth to kiss strange parts of his fingers. The skin shy of his nail. The underside of a knuckle, the curve under the meat of his thumb.