#you think youre punching up. youre not. and when you realize it i hope it makes you sick.

[rafayelxsylusho]

Hey love, your LADs fics are 🥵🔥🫠.

If you are accepting requests, could you pls write a College AU with the LADS men?

A study sesh leads to smut (can include love confession if not in established relationship).

Have a lovely day/night~ 💖

I hope I did it right. Enjoy!

College AU with the LADS men 🎓

Part 1: Zaynexreader

TW: SMUT

**Both reader and Zayne are Med students**

Zayne looks up from his textbook, his eyes meeting yours as you walk into his dorm room. His room is tidy, almost clinically so, really different from your own chaotic space down the hall. Zayne has always been the organized one, the responsible one, while you...well, you were something else.

"Your room is still a disaster zone, I take it?" he asks, arching an eyebrow. When you smile and nod, he laughs softly and shakes his head. "I don't know how you manage to live in such chaos."

Zayne's gaze drifts over your textbooks stacked in your arms, his eyes narrow slightly as he takes in your appearance, noting the dark circles under your eyes and the way you seem to be running on pure adrenaline. He sets his textbook aside and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"Tell me you got some sleep last night," he says, there is concern in his voice. "You look exhausted, y/n. I know this semester has been tough on you." he looks at you like a parent waiting for their child to confess to staying up too late. "And your test?" he asks when you don't immediately answer. "How did it go?" Zayne knows you had an important test this morning. He's been quietly supportive, offering to quiz you or just listening as you vented about the material leading up to it.

"I survived," you sigh, as you flop down on the bed across from Zayne's desk. "But I don't think I did as well as I needed to. I swear, every time I think I've got it, I realize there's a whole other layer to learn."

You groan, burying your face in one of his pillows for a moment before sitting back up to look at him "I don't know how you do it Zayne. Don't you ever just want to give up?"

He stands and walks over to his mini fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. "Here, drink this. You look dehydrated." Zayne gives you the bottle before sitting on the edge of his bed next to you. His brow furrows with concern as he watches you drink deeply from the water bottle, his eyes searching yours.

"Y/n, how many hours of sleep did you actually get last night?"

"Two," you say quietly. " Maybe a little more". His expression softens as he listens to you. He knew you were pushing yourself too hard, but hearing the confirmation of just how little sleep you'd gotten hits him like a punch to the gut.

"Lay down for a bit. I'll wake you up in two hours, and we can continue with your study session then." There's a gentle authority in his voice, Zayne's not going to let you talk your way out of this one. He knows you need the rest, and will make sure you get it.

As you hesitate, he reaches out to take the now empty water bottle from your hands, setting it aside on the nightstand. His fingers linger on yours for just a moment, a silent plea for you to listen to him.

"Please," he murmurs, his eyes holding yours. "You can't keep doing this. You need to take care of yourself if you want to make it through this program." His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing softly over the dark circle beneath your eye. It's a tender gesture, full of care and concern. He's not just your study partner and best friend, he's the one person who truly sees you, exhaustion and all.

"Fineeeee, whatever you say Dr Zayne"

He watches as you lay down on the bed, your head coming to rest on the pillow. He feels a bit of concern seeing you so drained, but also a sense of relief that he convinced you to get some much needed rest. Almost as soon as your head touches the pillow, your eyelids flutter shut and your breathing evens out.

You startle awake, your heart racing. You're not used to sleeping so deeply, especially not in the middle of the day. As you blink the sleep from your eyes, you become aware of a warm, solid presence next to you on the bed. Turning your head slowly, you find yourself face to face with Zayne, his body next to yours. He must have dozed off while you were sleeping, still clutching his textbook in his hands, now lying open and forgotten. Soft snores escape his slightly parted lips, a light frown etched between his eyebrows as if even in sleep, he's focused on the complex medical diagrams. He looks almost boyish in sleep, the hard lines of his face softening, a lock of dark hair falls across his forehead, and there's a vulnerability to his stillness that makes your heart clench. For a moment, you just watch him, taking in the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the long lashes casting shadows on his pale cheeks. Then, carefully, you reach out and pluck the textbook from him setting it aside. Zayne stirs slightly at the loss of the book, but doesn't wake. In sleep, his hand finds yours, as he settles closer to you. Your fingers intertwine instinctively, and you feel a rush of warmth spread through you at the contact.

You feel the heat of Zayne's breath ghosting over your face. Even in sleep, he seems drawn to you, his hand tightening around yours as if he's afraid you might disappear if he lets go. A soft blush rises to your cheeks at the intimacy of the moment, at the way Zayne's face is inches from your own. Your heart starts to race for a different reason now, a fluttering sensation that has nothing to do with the sudden awakening and everything to do with the man next to you.

You've shared countless study sessions, late night talks, and inside jokes with Zayne, but this...this feels different. More intimate. More charged with a tension you've never dared to acknowledge before. His eyelids flutter, and for a moment you think he might wake. You hold your breath, but he doesn't wake. Instead, he just sighs softly, his breath fanning over your lips. You know you should pull away, give him space, but you find yourself rooted to the spot. Captivated. Your free hand comes up to brush a lock of hair from Zayne's forehead, your fingertips lingering on the soft skin. He's so warm. So real. So...inviting.

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry despite the water Zayne had given you earlier. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and you see Zayne's eyes flutter open at the movement. For a moment, you're frozen, caught in the hazel gaze that seems to see right through you. Then, slowly, Zayne's eyes focus on you. Confusion clouds them for a moment before a flicker of something else, something hotter, sparks in their depths. His grip on your hand tightens.

"You're awake," he murmurs, his voice husky from sleep. His gaze drops to your mouth, stays there for a long, charged moment. You feel your heart pounding against your ribs, your breath coming faster. The air between you feels thick, heavy with a tension you've never dared to put a name to before. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, a sensual caress that sends a shiver up your spine. "How are you feeling?" he asks, but there's something else to his question, a double meaning that makes your cheeks flush hotter. And you know you should answer, should break this moment with a silly comment or a joke but you can't seem to find your voice. You're too busy drowning in the heat of Zayne's eyes too busy wanting...wanting more. Wanting to close the small distance between you and feel his lips on yours, wanting to tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him closer until there's no space left between your bodies.

But you don't. You can't. Because this is Zayne. Your best friend, the one person you trust above all others. The one person you can't afford to mess this up with, so instead of giving in to the temptation, you take a deep, shuddering breath and try to gather your composure. You wet your dry lips again, your voice a bit husky as you manage to choke out an answer.

"I...I feel better," you whisper, your eyes still locked with his. "Thank you for...for letting me sleep." It's a clumsy reply, but it's the best you can manage in this moment.

Zayne's eyes search yours for a moment, as if trying to find the true meaning behind your words. Then, slowly, he nods and starts to sit up, his hand sliding from yours and leaving you feeling suddenly cold. "I'm glad, you needed the rest." He glances at the clock on the wall and frowns slightly. "I'm afraid I may have let you sleep a little longer than we intended though."

He starts to gather up the scattered pages of his textbook, his movements a little stiff, a little self-conscious. It's clear that he's feeling the shift in the atmosphere as much as you are. "We should probably get back to studying," he says, not meeting your gaze as he stacks the pages neatly. "You've got that big test coming up, and you need to be ready." He says it lightly, but there's a tightness to his voice that wasn't there before. A tension that has nothing to do with the impending test.

You nod slowly, sitting up as well and swinging your legs over the side of the bed. You feel a little unsteady, a little off-balance. And it's not from the sudden awakening.

"Yeah," you agree softly. "You're right. I should get back to it."

You stand up, stretching slightly to work the kinks out of your muscles. As you do, you catch Zayne watching you from the corner of your eye, his gaze intense and unreadable. A shiver runs down your spine at the weight of it, and you quickly busy yourself with straightening out the rumpled blanket on the bed, avoiding his stare. "I'll just...I'll just go freshen up real quick" You say, hurrying towards the bathroom, needing to put some space between you, to collect your racing thoughts and calm the frantic pounding of your heart.

Once you are in the bathroom you splash water on your face, and take a few deep breaths, trying to will the blush from your cheeks. But no matter how much cold water you use, you can't seem to banish the memory of Zayne's sleep-roughened voice, the heat of his breath on your face, the way his hand felt curled around yours.

You shake your head sharply, pushing the thoughts away. You can't afford to think like that, not about Zayne. He's your rock, your constant, the one person you know you can always count on. You can't risk destroying that.

Squaring your shoulders, you take one last deep breath and step back out into the bedroom. Zayne is sitting on the bed, his textbooks spread out in front of him, his glasses perched on his nose as he scans the pages intently. For a moment, he looks like a picture of concentration, the very image of the dedicated medical student. As you approach, he glances up, and you see the flicker of something else in his eyes. Something warmer. Something that makes your heart stutter in your chest. "Is everything all right?" he asks softly, a note of genuine concern in his voice. He stands up, taking a step towards you, and you find yourself looking up at him, your breath catching in your throat.

"I...yes," you manage to say, your voice a little steadier than before. "Everything is fine.

"Good," he says, and there's a quiet satisfaction in his voice. He gestures to the bed, "It will be good for us to review the material together," Zayne continues, his voice warm and encouraging. "We can go over the key points and make sure you've got a solid grasp of everything before the test"

He steps closer to you, his hand coming to rest lightly on the small of your back as he guides you towards the bed. The touch is innocent, a gesture of friendship and support "Sit down," his breath stirring the hair at your temple. "Let's get to work."

Zayne watches as you chew thoughtfully on a grape, your eyes scanning the medical text. Hours have passed, and despite the late hour, you're both still engrossed in the material, determined to ensure you're fully prepared for the upcoming test. As Zayne sits in his chair, he flips to a new page in his textbook, his brow furrowed in concentration. When he glances up at you, ready to ask a question, he notices a small, glistening droplet of grape juice on your lower lip.

For a moment, he's distracted, his focus torn between the anatomical diagram on the page and the tempting sight before him. He clears his throat softly, trying to regain his train of thought.

"Y/n," he begins, his voice a little rougher than before. "What are the primary symptoms of acute kidney injury?"

As he waits for your response, Zayne finds himself leaning forward slightly, his gaze still fixed on your mouth. The drop of juice on your lip, threatening to drip down at any moment.

He swallows hard, his heart beating a little faster in his chest. He knows he should look away, should focus on the important task at hand. But he can't seem to tear his gaze away from the mesmerizing sight of you.

Finally, as if sensing his stare, you glance up from the textbook. Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, time seems to slow. Zayne's breath catches in his throat as he realizes he's been caught staring, his pulse jumping at the realization.

"The primary symptoms are...decreased urine output, blood in the urine, swelling in the legs or ankles, nausea, and fatigue." You begin, your voice clear and confident despite the late hour.

As you speak, he watches, as the grape juice slowly slides down the curve of your lip. It leaves a glistening trail in its wake, a path that draws his eye like a magnet.

"And then there's the secondary symptoms," you say, unaware of the effect you are having on him "Hematuria, azotemia, electrolyte imbalances..."

As you speak, he feels a sudden, overwhelming urge to close the distance between you, to lean in and catch that glistening drop of grape juice with his tongue.

When the thought hits him it leaves him momentarily breathless. In this moment, with the late hour and the intensity of your study session, he finds himself fighting with a desire he's long suppressed.

As you wrap up your explanation, Zayne quickly looks down at his textbook, needing a moment to collect himself. He clears his throat, trying to will away the sudden tightness in his pants and the heat rising in his cheeks.

"That's...that's correct, y/n," he manages to say, his voice a little rougher than intended. "You've got a solid grasp of the material. That's impressive."

You smile at Zayne's praise, feeling a surge of pride and accomplishment. The late-night study session had been intense, but seeing the approval in his eyes made it all worthwhile. As your smile widened, the droplet of grape juice that had been perched on the curve of your lower lip began its descent.

Zayne, already on edge and distracted by his sudden surge of desire, doesn't hesitate. Acting on pure instinct, he reaches out and across the short distance between you, his thumb outstretched. In a soft gesture, he brushes his thumb along your chin, catching the errant drop of juice before it can fall any further. The touch is brief but electric, sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you can react, Zayne's thumb trails upwards, coming to rest gently on the plush, soft skin of your lower lip. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and in that moment, the air between you feels charged with a new energy. His gaze is intense, his eyes searching yours as his thumb lightly traces the curve of your lower lip. He's waiting for a reaction, for any sign that you feel it too this sudden, undeniable spark of attraction that's impossible to ignore.

His voice is a low murmur, almost a whisper, when he finally speaks. "You had a little... grape juice," he explains unnecessarily, his thumb still resting on your lip. "I just... I couldn't let it go to waste."

He feels his breath hitch in his throat as your small, pink tongue darts out and laps at the remnants of the grape juice on his thumb. The sensation of your wet, warm tongue against his skin sends a jolt of electricity straight through him, settling heavily in his lower abdomen.

"Now it won't," you say softly

As you hold his gaze, Zayne feels the last of his restraint slipping away. The walls he's built to keep his feelings locked away, crumble like sandcastles against a tide.

Slowly, giving you every opportunity to pull away, Zayne leans in closer. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, his long fingers splaying gently against the warm, smooth skin. He tilts your chin up slightly, angling your face towards his.

"I've wanted to do this for so long, y/n," he confesses. The scent of his words is tinged with the faint aroma of the grapes you were eating, a heady and intoxicating combination. His eyes flick down to your lips, now glistening and parted slightly from your earlier actions.

"Tell me to stop," he whispers, his voice strained with tension. "Tell me you don't feel this too, and I'll stop. But god, I need to know if you want this as much as I do."

Your heart races as you feel Zayne's breath mingling with yours, his lips now centimeters away from your own. The heat of his skin, the intensity of his gaze, it's all so overwhelming and intoxicating.

"Don't stop," you breathe out, your voice barely above a whisper. It's all you manage to say before you close the final centimeter of space between you, your lips pressing softly against his. The moment your mouths meet, it's like a spark igniting a wildfire. Zayne's lips are soft and firm against your own, molding to the contours of your mouth as if he was made to fit there.

You hear a low groan escape from the back of his throat as you deepen the kiss. His fingers tighten slightly on your cheek, his thumb brushing over the apple of your cheekbone. You press closer, your hand coming up to tangle in the short, dark hair at the nape of his neck. Your fingers thread through the silky strands, anchoring him to you as you lose yourself in the sensation of his mouth moving against your own.

Zayne pulls back from the kiss just enough to hook his hands under your armpits. With a gentle but insistent pressure, he lifts you up and out of the bed, bringing your body flush against his own. As his lips claim yours again, his hands slide from your armpits down to your waist. He grips you firmly, his long fingers splaying across the small of your back as he pulls your curves snugly against the hard planes of his own body.

Still lost in the intensity of the kiss, he starts to walk you backwards, his body pressed against yours, until the soft give of a wall meets your back. He breaks the kiss just briefly as your back hits the wall, long enough to flash you a look that's equal parts hunger and desperation. His eyes are dark, the pupils blown wide with desire, and his chest heaves with each breath he takes.

"You drive me crazy," he rasps, his voice strained and rough with want. "If I take you to bed now, I won't be able to hold back. I'll lose control, and I don't want to rush this."

You close the distance once again and your teeth graze his bottom lip "Please Zayne" you whisper.

Unable to resist your urging, Zayne gives in to your demand. He leans into you, allowing you to tug his shirt upwards and expose the toned, muscular chest beneath. His abs are defined, each muscle group carved by years of dedicated discipline. As his shirt clears his head, Zayne captures your wrists in his hands, pinning them gently but firmly against the wall on either side of your head. He looms over you, his larger frame caging you in, his eyes roaming hungrily over your face and body.

"Please, what? Tell me what you want, y/n. I need to hear you say it."

His hips press against yours, the hard, thick length of him evident even through the fabric of his pants. He grinds slowly against you, letting you feel every inch of his desire. His hand releases one of your wrists to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip. His touch is gentle, a stark contrast to the rough, desperate edge in his voice.

"Tell me," he demands, his gaze intense and unwavering. "Tell me what you need, and I'll give it to you. I'll give you everything."

"Zayne," you breathe out, your voice trembling with desire. "I need you, all of you" You feel his hands grip the backs of your thighs, his long fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he hoists you up. He lifts you effortlessly, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist as he pins you against the wall with his hips. Once he feels your legs secure around him, Zayne's hands slide up, his palms skimming over your thighs and coming to rest on your hips. He squeezes gently, his fingers digging into your curves as he holds you in place. Sensing your movements, Zayne leans back just enough to allow you to remove your shirt. As the fabric falls away, revealing your bare skin and the delicate lace of your bra, his breath catches in his throat.

"Fuck" he breathes out, his gaze hungry as it roams over your exposed flesh. Unable to resist, Zayne leans down and starts to place open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. His lips and tongue map out the delicate skin, tasting you, teasing you, as his hands slide up your sides. They come to rest just below the band of your bra, his thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. He looks up at you, his eyes dark and filled with promise, silently asking for your permission to continue.

You reach back, fingers unhooking the clasp of your bra. The lace falls away, baring you completely to his hungry gaze. He takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, your chest heaving with each breath, your nipples pebbled in the cool air of the room.

"Perfect," Zayne murmurs, his voice a low, appreciative rumble. "Absolutely perfect."

He lowers his head and draws one straining peak into his mouth. His tongue swirls around the sensitive bud, teasing it, before he suckles hard. His other hand kneads the soft weight of your other breast, rolling and plucking at the neglected nipple. Zayne's hips press harder against yours, the thick ridge of his arousal grinding against your core.

"Zayne," you gasp, your head falling back against the wall as pleasure courses through you. "Please, I need more." Your hands fist in his hair, anchoring him to you as he lavishes attention on your breasts. Your legs tighten around his waist, urging him closer, silently begging him to take you.

Zayne releases your breast with a wet pop, his lips moving to your other breast to give it the same treatment. He suckles and nips, his teeth grazing your skin, marking you. His mouth never leaves your breasts as he carries you towards the bed, his lips and tongue continuing their relentless assault on your sensitive flesh. He walks backwards and as the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, Zayne sits down, allowing you both to tumble onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. He rolls you over, positioning you beneath him. Zayne's hands roam your body, caressing every curve and dip, as if committing your form to memory.

Still focused on your breasts, he kisses and licks, suckles and nips, until your back arches off the bed and your fingers tangle almost painfully in his hair. Your nipples are reddened and swollen, glistening with his saliva, and aching for more of his touch. Zayne pauses in his ministrations, glancing up at you with a playful smirk as he slowly unzips your skirt. As he removes it he takes in the sight of your blue panties adorned with a tiny snowman.

"I wasn't exactly planning on seducing you tonight," you admit with an embarrassed blush, biting your lower lip. "I didn't think we'd end up like this."

Zayne's eyes soften as he takes in the pretty blush coloring your cheeks and the swell of your breasts. He finds your embarrassment endearing, charming even. It's a rare sight, given how composed and put together you usually are.

Zayne shakes his head and smirks "I'm glad you didn't plan this," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "Because if you had, you might not have chosen such...cute underwear"

He glances down at the snowman grinning up at him, then back to your blushing face, his smirk widening into a genuine, boyish grin. "Don't worry, sweetheart. They're perfect. Just like you, but let's get rid of them, shall we?" he whispers, his voice low and seductive "I want to see all of you."

Zayne takes his time peeling your panties down your legs, his fingers grazing your skin. As the fabric slips past your knees, he tosses them carelessly aside, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

When you instinctively close your legs, Zayne pauses, his hands resting on your thighs. "Open them for me, pretty girl," his voice filled with desire. His hands start to slowly push your thighs apart, his thumbs brushing over your inner thighs and sending sparks of pleasure racing through you, and when your legs part for him, his gaze drops to your exposed sex, his eyes darkening with hunger and need.

"Fuck, love," he breathes out, his voice strained. "You're so beautiful. I could look at you for hours." He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh, making you shudder in anticipation. He inhales deeply, taking in your scent, before placing a soft, open mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. His lips and tongue work their way slowly up your inner thigh. He places kisses to your skin, occasionally grazing it with his teeth, sending jolts of pleasure and pain straight to your core. He takes his time, savoring your taste and scent, drawing out your anticipation and desperation. The closer he gets to your aching, empty sex, the more your hips squirm and cant upwards, seeking his touch.

"Zayne, please," you whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, trying to urge him on. He nips at the sensitive skin where your thigh meets your sex, making you gasp and your hips jerk involuntarily. He places another kiss, higher this time, his lips brushing against your lower lips. At the same time, he pushes your thighs further apart, opening you up to him completely.

"Tell me what you want," he urges, his breath hot against your cunt. "Tell me how you want me to touch you."

"Please, I need your mouth on me. I need your tongue, your fingers, something."

Without warning, he dives in, his mouth latching onto your sex with a hunger that steals your breath away.He kisses and sucks, his lips moving against your sensitive flesh as he explores every inch of you. His tongue delves between your folds, stroking along your slit and dipping teasingly inside you.

"Mmm, you taste even better than I imagined," Zayne rumbles, his words muffled against your sex. He looks up at you, his eyes glinting as he holds your gaze. "I could feast on this sweet cunt for hours, my love."

He then seals his mouth over your clit, suckling hard as he slides two long fingers deep inside you. He pumps them slowly, curling and twisting, stroking that spot that makes you moan his name. Your back arches off the bed as you cry out, your head thrown back in ecstasy. Suddenly he pauses, looking up at you with a playful glint in his eye. He smirks, his fingers still buried deep inside your throbbing sex. "How about we make this interesting, love? We can practice what you've learned today."

He starts to withdraw his fingers slowly, his thumb brushing over your clit and making you gasp. "Let's start with a simple one. What's the medical term for the heart?" He watches your face, his fingers poised at your entrance, waiting for your response.

"Fuck, it's c-cardio," you stutter out, your voice breathless and shaky with desire.

"Good girl," Zayne purrs, rewarding you with a slow lick along your slit. "What's the primary function of the kidneys?" His fingers dip back inside you, pumping shallowly, teasing you as he waits for your answer. Your hips twitch, trying to pull him deeper, but you force yourself to focus.

"F-filtration and secretion," you manage to say, your words coming out in a rush.

"That's right," Zayne murmurs, placing another lingering lick on your clit before suckling gently, rewarding your correct answer. "The liver's main function?"

"Nghh, m-metabolism and detoxification," you gasp, your head falling back as pleasure courses through you.

"Mmm, excellent. The brain's primary function?"

"I can't....Zayne please..." you pant, your fingers gripping the sheets as you fight the urge to grind yourself against Zayne's face. "I...its controlling and coordinating actions and..and ...activities,"

He wraps his lips around your clit and gently sucks it, his fingers pump faster, curling to stroke that special spot inside you with each thrust. You can feel your release building, your walls starting to flutter around his fingers.

"Lungs' primary function?" Zayne asks, his voice a low rumble against your sex.

"Res...respiration," you cry, your hips bucking up to meet his hand as your climax fast approaches.

"That's my clever girl," Zayne praises, sealing his mouth over your clit and sucking gently once again.

Zayne feels your walls fluttering and clenching around his fingers, knowing you are teetering on the brink of your climax. He looks up at you with intense eyes, his voice low and urgent.

"This is the most important question, my love. How many chambers does the heart have?"

His fingers pump faster, stroking that sensitive spot deep inside you with each thrust. His thumb rubs firm circles over your clit, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

"Four!" you scream, your voice breaking and cracking with the intensity of your impending climax. At your desperate scream of the correct answer, Zayne dives back in, his mouth latching onto your sex with renewed hunger. His tongue circles your clit exactly four times, each rotation perfectly measured and deliberate.

As he completes the fourth rotation, you finally shatter. Your body convulses as your orgasm crashes over you like, your sex clenching and fluttering wildly around his fingers.

Zayne groans, feeling your release gush over his tongue and fingers. He works you through it, his mouth and hands never stopping their assault, drawing out your pleasure until you collapse back onto the bed, boneless and spent.

Zayne crawls up your body, his eyes filled with satisfaction and pride. He cups your face, capturing your lips in a kiss that steals your breath away. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it only makes you feel more desired.

"Good girl," Zayne praises. "You did so well, my love. I'm so proud of you."

You try to sit up, but Zayne gently but firmly presses you back down onto the bed, his hands resting on your shoulders. He shakes his head, giving you a playful smirk as he tucks you in snugly under the covers, pulling them up to your chin.

"Where do you think you're going, love? You need to rest now," Zayne says softly, his voice filled with a tender warmth that makes your heart flutter. He brushes a stray lock of hair from your forehead, his fingers lingering to caress your cheek.

"You've had a long day. I want you to sleep now, sweetheart. Let your body recover and recharge." He settles in next to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pulling you close, spooning you from behind. He nuzzles into your neck, inhaling the scent of your hair as he holds you possessively, protectively.

His hand rests on your stomach, his thumb rubbing gentle circles, a comforting, lulling motion. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back and the soothing sound of his voice soon has you both drifting off into a peaceful sleep. Unaware that once you both become respected doctors in your respective fields, you find yourself transported back to this day every time someone mentions the four chambers of the heart.

It could be during a lecture, a patient consultation, or even a casual conversation with a colleague. The moment the words "four chambers" leave their lips, you're instantly transported back to that bedroom, with Zayne's head between your legs, his tongue circling your clit in perfect, deliberate rotations as you screamed out the answer that brought you to the most intense orgasm of your life.

You'll feel a rush of heat to your cheeks, and you'll have to bite back a smile, glancing over at Zayne to see if he was also transported to that moment. More often than not, you catch him looking at you with a knowing, smoldering gaze, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. You know he's thinking about the same thing.

I

[chachacharlieco]

She knew it was silly crying over a rejection when the man only said he wanted to think about it. But it was her very first confession she had ever done in her life. To be rejected on her first time was something she didn't realize would hit her so hard. "You know what, Skinny? I think the best way to cheer you up is to have a sparring session! What do you say?" Claire made a half chuckle, half sob response. "But that's wh-what you would do!" "Well, yeah, obviously. But you won't know if you like it till you try it, right? C'mon." He motioned with his head toward the high noon arena. She sighed and went along with it.

Claire had forgotten about her confession by the time she was sparring with Pen. He let her hit him for the first few minutes until he started blocking her. "Alright, my turn. Dodge this!" He wound up his arm and punched. To Pen's surprise, Claire actually did. And she continued to do so, she was as slippery as an eel. "Whew! Skinny! You can really move!" Claire beamed, but Pen shook his head. "But it's not good enough." In an instant, Pen was in front of her with a readied punch. Claire gasped and closed her eyes. She braced herself. She felt a light tap on her head and slowly opened her eyes to see Pen smiling, petting her hair, ruffling it a little. Her cheeks blushed. "If you want to fight things out, Skinny, just let me know, I'll be your sparring partner. Not gonna lie, I've never met someone move so fast... but you gotta work on your hits. You might as well use a rocket rooster's feather to tickle me to death than cause any sort of pain with your infantile attacks." Claire pouted and crossed her arms. "I'll... I'll beat you one day, Pen!" "I look forward to it. HAH. Smell ya later, Skinny!"

And that's how my builder began to have feelings for Pen. Sorry about the mistakes, I'm no writer but I hope you enjoy. happy valentines day o/

[aayakashii]

For seven days, I'll be posting Valentine's Day themed headcanons for each House in Tokyo Debunker!

All prompts come from this post here ♡

And dividers are from @saradika-graphics 🫶

Taglist: @wannaberecluse

Frostheim | Vagastrom | Jabberwock | Sinostra | Hotarubi | Obscuary | Mortkranken

Valentine’s Day in Vagastrom

Alan

how does he show affection?

Through his hands. He is always touching you somehow. If he's nearby, his hands will rest on the top of your head or on your shoulders. Alan's not that good at expressing himself through words, but the way he's constantly drawing impossibly closer to your body leaves no doubt in your mind – he craves you near.

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

He loves them, but will always be hesitant to give them first due to his insecurities. Alan absolutely melts, however, when you settle yourself on his chest and hug him tightly – fondness for you immediately warming his heart and allowing him to hold you just a bit closer. His hugs feel like safety; you found your rock and it will be your very own shelter forevermore.

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

He's quite aware that he's awful at flirting, which is why he doesn't even try. He does compliment you frequently – and meanwhile, his hand goes up to rub his neck in order to dispel the embarrassment, and his eyes are cast downwards. He would love to be able to look at you properly the next time he says you look pretty.

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

He tries his best, but Alan probably doesn't even realize Valentine's Day is coming around until he overhears some students talking about the date. At that point, there's no time to go out anymore (it's already Valentine's Day after all). So he'll most definitely give you the safe options: chocolate and flowers. He'll try harder next year (he'll ask someone to put a reminder on his phone).

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

He falls fast, but it takes him a long time to come to terms with it. Thoughts of being unworthy of you are too loud in his mind most of the time, and he pushes the need to be close to you deep into the corners of his consciousness. When it all boils over and he can't hide it behind his stoic façade anymore, he finally gives in to you and to his emotions, tired (but also relieved).

does he find ���i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Extremely hard. He knows he feels it, that's for sure. But his whole life, he talked with his punches. The words feel weird in his tongue, and it frustrates him. He can only hope he's clearly conveying his feelings for you every time you hug each other. He hopes you feel it all, right there, in the pores of his skin. And you do.

does he get jealous in a relationship?

Not really. He trusts you, even though his confidence might falter and the self-deprecating thoughts might take hold for a moment. You're quick to know when to reassure him, so all the negative emotions dissipate as soon as you hold his hand again.

what is his ideal date?

Wherever you want to go with him. He doesn't have a secret spot, nor a safe place to show you. His garage doesn't feel proper, and the campus holds too many memories he would rather not think about during a date. Wherever you decide to go, it'll be fine with him, as long as you're there.

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He doesn't expect anything, honestly. He's fine with just being together, but if you propose to him, he will obviously say yes (after a long, awkward moment of silence in which he was trying to get his bearings straight). If you want HIM to propose to you, you'll have to tell him and express your wishes.

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

Never really thought of it, doesn't really care about it, but he saw the way GA students were fretting about it, so he figured you might be into the date, like them. If you care, he cares. That's basically it.

does he get protective easily?

He's EXTREMELY protective. Acts like a guard dog – a menacing shadow that follows you around and glares at anyone that might try some funny business. Sometimes, you have to tell him to relax and just enjoy the stroll with you, but his doberman senses just won't turn off, ever.

does he believe in true love?

He never thought much of it. He knows he loves you, so it must be real. He wonders if he deserves such a delicate, sweet experience like being truly in love with you. And every day, you make sure he knows he does.

Leo

how does he show affection?

He would rather be caught dead than explicitly show you genuine affection. Instead, he'll be calling you annoying while draping his legs on your lap and laying his head on the crook of your neck. He expresses his true feelings every single time he clings onto you, never letting go as soon as you come around his vicinity.

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

He hugs you like it's second nature. He's unable to stand beside you and not hold you somehow, all while acting as if him clinging onto you like a koala is perfectly normal. If you try to hug him, however, he'll throw a hissy fit, much like a cat that doesn't want to be pet.

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

He's fantastic when it comes to flirting ironically with ANYONE. When it comes to flirting genuinely with you, however, he simply malfunctions – much to his dismay, his cheeks burn bright red, he stutters stupidly and Leo wishes a hole could open up in the ground and swallow him. He's great at getting what he wants from others; terrible at getting what he wants from you.

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

He knows exactly what to give you. But he also thinks about how he could entertain his followers. He'll most likely film your reaction when he gives you the trendiest, most expensive Valentine's gift and relish on the compliments of his fans as they call him a great boyfriend. But don't worry. Once the camera is off, he hands you a smaller, more thoughtful gift. All while saying he just doesn't want you to whine about him not paying attention to you.

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

He gives his heart to you slowly, little piece by little piece. He doesn't like the vulnerability, nor how much trust is involved with handing you his heart. Therefore, it might take a while until he feels completely comfortable with the thought of being wholly yours.

does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

He never says it, preferring just to think to himself. You've learned to hear the fondness that coats his voice whenever he's thinking that, though. The way his eyes are half-lidded, his smile is sincere, and how he calls you "silly" – which is probably the closest to a compliment that you'll get for a long time.

does he get jealous in a relationship?

He's painfully jealous of everyone and everything. If someone just touches you accidentally, he will go into a fit of jealous rage. Under all the layers of nonchalance and assertiveness, Leo is terribly insecure. He doesn't realize his rage stems from jealousy, nor does he know his jealousy comes from the fear of being left behind. He just lets that green little monster take over his body until you manage to calm him down, and he finally retracts his fangs.

what is his ideal date?

Surprisingly, he wouldn't mind turning off his phone for a little while to spend quality time with you. He would like somewhere calm and quiet, that wouldn't overwhelm his senses. An onsen in a small town isn't exactly the type of place you'd imagine Leo visiting, but if it's to spend time focusing on you, he would very much prefer that.

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He wants to ask because he wants it to be pompous and glamorous. He wants to post the photos on his sns, obviously, but more than anything, he wants to keep the memory of every meaningful date for you two registered on as many photos as possible.

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

He never cared about it, but loved to pretend he's looking forward to it whenever he posts. His flings were never important enough to warrant celebrating Valentine's together, but with you, he's finally gonna know the true experience. You could say he's kinda looking forward to it for real now.

does he get protective easily?

Not really. Most times, he's the one playing damsel in distress. If push comes to shove, however, he'll change his inoffensive behavior in the blink of an eye.

does he believe in true love?

Leo is too much of a skeptical man to believe in things that come from fairytales. But he's open to changing his mind if you want to give it a shot.

Sho

how does he show affection?

He doesn't hesitate to hold you and say sweet words into your ear, but his most genuine way of showing affection is through food. Whenever he asks if you've already eaten, what do you want to eat, if you'd like to try his new recipe – these are all his very own ways of saying he cares deeply about you.

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

He loves them, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you up with every chance he gets. If you hug him first, he takes that as permission to just keep holding you wherever he goes, like you're just a little keychain. His hugs feel grounding and you can feel the comforting scent of bread and cake emanating from his clothes (even if he doesn't even work with pastries).

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

He's annoyingly good. It genuinely feels like he was born with this skill and he makes good use of it with you. He's all lazy smiles and half-lidded eyes whenever you pass by, kisses in empty rooms with promises of more and compliments that leave you fuzzy and floaty.

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

He's great at gift giving, especially because he's very into making your gifts himself. He's a crafty man and don't people say that handmade gifts are more thoughtful? He'll make you a whole bouquet of paper flowers, carefully painted, that will never wither AND homemade chocolate. And you just know that chocolate is more delicious than any store-bought brand.

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

He goes at a normal pace, but once he realizes he has feelings for you, he feels like a middle school kid with a crush. What do you mean he stutters and blushes whenever you're around? He's an adult, for fuck's sake. He confesses to you like he's ripping a band-aid off. He just wanted to get over it as quick and painlessly as possible, shoving his heart into your hands for you to do whatever you want – step on it, throw it away or keep it safe. He was more than relieved when you decided to give yours in return.

does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

He's still embarrassed by it, so it's quite hard. He says it during meaningful moments, but it still comes out of his lips a bit too stilted. He loves you, he does, but he also has years of building an aloof persona on his back – it was his defense mechanism. It'll take a little while to destroy those walls.

does he get jealous in a relationship?

Not that much, he just gets mad at the audacity of some people to try and shoot their shot with you. He's quick to appear right by your side and hold you tight and close to him, just to let them know that you're with him.

what is his ideal date?

Sho loves to go to every type of festival with you. Spending time with you trying different foods, finding silly matching trinkets, and playing all sorts of rigged games – that's a perfect day in his book. And of course, the day has to end with you two cuddling after spending so much energy outside.

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He doesn't have a preference, honestly. It doesn't matter who asks, if it's you or him, all that matters is that both of you will say yes and start a new chapter of your life together.

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

Before his food truck, he really didn't care. After his food truck, he just thought it was a great sale opportunity. After you, however, he began seeing it under a new light: a holiday to look forward to, a chance to make it a special day for the two of you.

does he get protective easily?

Very much so, but he's subtle about it. Like when he's jealous, he just stays nearby, ready to step in if anyone ends up being an actual threat.

does he believe in true love?

Sho used to think that these types of things are embarrassing, even a little childish, but when he looks at your figure whenever you're sleeping beside him, he can't help but believe in it a little bit.

[itsnesss]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 | minho (xo,kitty) × fem!reader

summary | you accidentally send your valentine’s letter to minho, leading to awkward encounters and unexpected feelings. by the end of the day, you realize he’s your crush all along, and a kiss seals it

warnings | mild angst, romantic tension, and the theme of miscommunication

word count | 2.3 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

If someone had told you that you'd end up caught in a Valentine's Day drama with Minho, you would have laughed out loud. But here you are, holding a box of chocolates in one hand, a letter in the other, and an increasing sense of desperation in your chest.

Because this wasn’t the plan.

The plan was simple: leave an anonymous letter in your crush’s locker, hope he reads it, and maybe get some sign of interest. Nothing complicated, nothing too obvious. Just a little confidence boost, courtesy of the spirit of Valentine’s Day.

But, of course, something had to go wrong.

And that "something" is Minho.

“This is a joke, right?” he asks, holding the letter with an incredulous expression.

You, on the other hand, want to disappear.

“How did you get this?”

“It appeared in my locker.”

Your stomach sinks.

It can't be.

No. No. No.

“There’s a mistake,” you stammer, snatching the letter from his hands. “It wasn’t for you.”

Minho raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, no?”

“Of course not,” you reply firmly, though the heat in your cheeks betrays you.

His expression changes.

“Then... who was it for?”

You bite your lip.

“It’s none of your business.”

He smiles.

“Oh, but it is.”

And that’s when you know you’re in trouble.

You try to explain it, to make him understand that the letter ended up in his locker by mistake, but Minho won’t leave you alone.

“Let me guess,” he says, following you down the hall. “Dae?”

You shoot him a glare.

“No.”

“Q?”

“Nope.”

“Florian?”

“NO!”

Minho smiles smugly.

“Then it’s someone embarrassing.”

You stop dead in your tracks.

“What?”

“If you don’t want to tell me who it is, it must be because you’re too embarrassed to admit it.”

You look at him in exasperation.

“Or because it’s none of your business.”

“You know what?” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Now it is my problem.”

You sigh.

“Why do you care so much?”

Minho shrugs.

“Because it’s entertaining to see you so nervous.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I know.”

You try to forget about it. Really, you try.

But Minho won’t let you.

He shows up at your locker with questions.

He bothers you in the cafeteria with insinuations.

And when he thinks no one’s looking, he flashes you little smiles that make you want to punch him and… maybe something else.

The worst part is that you start getting used to it.

The way his presence feels less and less annoying and more… comfortable.

And that’s a problem.

A BIG problem.

Because Minho is not your crush.

Right?

Valentine’s Day arrives faster than you expected.

The halls are filled with balloons and hearts, and the KISS students are enthusiastically exchanging cards and sweets.

You try to ignore the discomfort in your chest as you watch Minho surrounded by girls, accepting chocolates with his typical charming smile.

It doesn’t bother you.

Of course not.

Except that it does.

And you hate him for it.

“You look like you want to commit a crime,” Kitty says, appearing beside you.

You sigh.

“I’m just tired.”

“Tired of watching Minho flirt with the whole school?”

You look at her, surprised.

“What? No.”

Kitty smiles with amusement.

“Uh-huh, sure.”

You roll your eyes.

“I don’t like Minho.”

“Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?”

You open your mouth to respond, but you’re interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Talking about me?”

You turn your head, and sure enough, Minho is there, looking at you with an arched eyebrow.

Kitty smiles.

“Actually, yes.”

“How flattering.”

“It’s not,” you say quickly.

“Hey, it’s Valentine’s Day. At least you could be a little nicer to me.”

“I could. But I don’t want to.”

Minho laughs.

“Fine, in that case...” He leans a little closer to you. “Can I ask you something?”

Your heart races.

“What?”

“Did you already give your ‘mysterious crush’ your letter?”

Your stomach churns.

Kitty watches the two of you with curiosity but doesn’t intervenes.

“That’s none of your business,” you respond, trying to sound indifferent.

Minho smiles, but there’s something different in his expression.

“Then you still have time.”

You don’t know how to respond.

But before you can say anything, he walks away.

And you’re left standing there, heart racing and too many questions running through your mind.

The day goes on, and you keep thinking about it.

You can’t get Minho out of your head.

Not his smile.

Not the way he looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice.

Not the possibility that… maybe, just maybe… your crush was never the wrong person.

Maybe, from the start, it was him.

The thought scares you.

But it also excites you.

And before you can stop yourself, you grab the letter you wrote and run to find him.

You find him on the rooftop, looking at the horizon with his hands in his pockets.

He turns when he hears you approach, and his expression changes when he sees the letter in your hands.

You don’t say anything.

You just step forward and offer it to him.

Minho looks at it for a moment before taking it.

He carefully opens the envelope, pulls out the sheet, and starts reading.

Your heart is about to explode.

When he finishes, he looks up and stares at you.

“Was it for me from the beginning?”

You swallow hard.

“No.”

“Then what changed?”

You close your eyes for a moment before responding:

“I think it was me.”

Minho doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then, he smiles.

And before you can process it, he leans in and kisses you.

It’s soft, but sure.

And when you pull away, Minho murmurs against your lips:

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

And this time, there’s no confusion.

This time, Cupid hit the mark.

[tonycries]

P*SSY POWER!

Synopsis. Jujutsu powers are to be used only in battle? Funny.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, using their powers in bed, ratio technique, unlimited void, overstím, dúmbification, PÚSSYDRÚNK MEN, creampíes, p talking, p spánking, reverse cursed technique, MARATHONS, bIood manipulation, cúmplay, ínappropríate use of cursed techniques, cervíx kíssing, true form Sukuna, dp, SUKUNA’S SECOND MOUTH, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. PHEW I just had to…

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - SUPERHUMAN!

Toji’s powerful pounds didn’t just leave you stupid - they left you in shambles. 

Vulgar, thorough strokes where all it takes is a few handfuls before he’d already broken your creaking bedframe, your desk, your couch - and you were probably not all that far behind.

Not when Toji was still unstopping. Still not even slowing down - he needs more. 

And he’s rolling his willowing eyes with a husky tch, not even breaking a sweat when scooping up your tiredly boneless body with just a singular big, beefy arm. Scarred smirk curling, “Ya have some real cheap furniture, doll.”

“N-no I don’t-” Your barely coherent syllables aren’t as meaningful as you’d like them to be when you sounded so ruined. “You just hafta stop using your pow- ah!”

“Huh, what was that?” In mere sultry nanoseconds, he’s splaying you out unashamedly right then and there on your bedroom floor. Two engulfing palms positioning underneath your jittery thighs to throw them over his broad shoulders and bend- “Seriously- better hope I break you before I break this heh- floor.”

Before you can even open your mouth to retort, Toji’s taking all the pleasure to smear open your desperately bloated pussy lips with one prying thumb. The fat curvature of his fingerpad drawing ravenous lines up and down your bawling slit.

“Well helloooo, ma, how are ya doin’?” He’s biting down on his plump lower lip, guiding the bulky crown of his mushroomy tip to press innocent peck after peck where you were the most swelteringly hot. “Missed you these p-past…three seconds.”

“Stop teasing n’ just p-put it in, Toji–” you’re huffing out in clouded pants, dangling ankles locking around the back of Toji’s sweat-sheened neck in an effort to try and get him to do something. 

“First yer telling me ta take it fuckin’ slow, now yer begging for it-” He’s scoffing sassily, superhuman reflexes blocking the cute punches you don’t even get to think of landing on his puffed-up chest. “Seriously- ya should be more honest…like this pretty pussy o’ yours.”

And you’re just about to babble away about why he’s nodding in conversation with the saturated slurps from down below. Emanating where he was drawing leaky little hearts right on your slick-flooded entrance with the very globe of his swollen tip. Just about to.

Before you feel so full you think you’re being bludgeoned into your very lungs-

“This all you can take?” Toji’s chuckling out, but you can already see the way his handsome face beads with pearly dewdrops of perspiration. The way the edges of his sleazy smile twitch into something more simpering, more drunken. “Come on- come on come on- just one more inch.”

Blinking up at him with lashes lathered in overstimulated tears, “J-just one more?”

Well, a few more copious inches more like - but you were already too struck by the blissful massage of Toji’s bumpy veins probing into your sweetest spots to realize.

Already cockdrunk.

“Mhmm—” Toji’s nodding along, bending and jostling your body according to every whim and want. He loved how you were simply putty in his hands. Mouth watering at the lazily oozing sprinkle of cum beading out from the ends of your slit, one he can’t help but swab a few fingers along and plug into your parched mouth with a greedy plop! “S-so you jus’ sit here n’ let your ah- Toji here take care of the biiiig stretch, hm?”

Taking everything that he was giving - wanting more. You were yearning for him, and every heated fat inch of his girth bullied past your elastic ring only made your insides feel even hotter. 

Needier. 

“H-heh fuuuck yeah that’s it-” Throwing his head back, you could feel the way that every delirious ah! spilling from between your pathetically parted lips only made his rotund strawberry end twitch inside of your glutinous walls. Bumping into the excess dredges of cum sugarcoating you from just before. “-fuuuck take it l-like a good girl-”

And fuck no, Toji Fushiguro wasn’t just talk - he walked the walk and he owned it.

But it’s times like this - when your clingy walls were sticking ‘round his girthy cylindrical shaft like a soppy second skin. When your mushy pussy lips give his toned abdomen a quick mwah! Finally all inside. All surrounded by you once more.

It’s times like this when he finds his breath hitching-

Thick brows furrowing darkly, Herculean pecs hefting up and down vigorously. And if you were in any better state of mind, you’d have registered the complete n’ utter whine in Toji’s rumbling bass, “F-finally.”

SLAM!

And it’s so easy for him to let his massive palm come striking down onto your polished floor and make a crater. Barely even using a fraction of his superhuman strength, but your heavenly pussy was just driving him out of control. 

Whoops, he’s cracking a droopy eye open to gaze upon the perfect outline of each of his fingers indented permanently onto your floorboards. You really are a dangerous, dangerous-

“Oh?” That ferally cocky look on Toji’s sexy features never boded well for you or your poor cunt, and without another word he’s splaying out a few calloused fingers on top of your tummy. Huffing, “Yer close already- new record, huh, doll?”

How- how the hell did he know before you?

And at this moment you’re too far gone to even remember that Toji’s extra strength also meant extra heightened senses. 

Already feeling the tightly coiling ball building up inside your tummy when he’s reeling his slutty hips back to plant a bruising ram straight onto the bullseye of your cervix.

Hit after hit.

They’re battering.

You’re sure you’d be flying lengthy feet across your floor if it hadn’t been for one of Toji’s palms clasping onto the very top of your head and pushing you even further down all his copious inches. Feeding you with slobbering thuds gifted right into the back of your gooey pussy that you feel all the way up at your fuzzy mind.

Maw slagging open with such great difficulty to mumble, “T-Toooji- I’m-”

“Close?” He’s cutting you off, running one flirtatious thumb over the plump peak of your clit. Each and every syllable interrupted by his favorite punctuation mark - a good, vicious jackhammer of his angry cock. “Yeah yeah, I know- m’girl should be cummin’ in…three…two…one-”

Ah, right on time, Toji’s musing. Boring his half-lidded verdant eyes down at you when you’re falling apart all over his girthy length.

Spritzing geysers of your orgasm formulating a dribbling sheen all the way down to his hefty base, adhesive walls gripping around his bulk so tightly that Toji almost finds himself tutting about what a tight fuckin’ fit your pretty pussy was.

And he only gets harder - faster. Fucking you through your high until you’re crashing into more orgasms upon orgasms. 

Nails dragging red raking patterns across his heavily toned back, and he can already feel himself slowly losing his grip. 

Shaggy black bangs sticking to the tender crook of your neck once Toji lets out a gasp and lets his head loll, peeking canines digging into your heated flesh. Pistoning you with such devious thwacks and spatters of buttery pre into your most forbidden insides, the sheer force behind Toji’s heavenly gift has both of you feeling raw. 

And it’s just about all he can do right about now to look at the slight indentations on your wood-covered floors and scoff. Just in time for his blushing crownhead to dangerously twitch, “Dammit, the floor’s still not broken, ma…yet.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Target practice.

It only takes a few vulgar hits of Nanami’s thoroughly bloated cockhead into the cushy target of your g-spot before you’re rendered completely speechless. 

Utterly fucked dumb with every recoiling clash of his rounded mushroom tip, skidding along that particular geysering orifice over n’ over like he was trying to brand it with his exact circumference. 

And you can’t do anything but strain your knees further and take it-

“K-Kentooo—” You’re scrambling to burrow your nails further into the cool mahogany platform of his office table when you cum for the nth time tonight. Veins boiling, eyes sliding to the very back until they were pure ivory, splatters of saliva waterfalling never-endingly from the corners of your mouth. 

“Droolin’ again, my love?” Nanami’s cooing, engulfing palm budging upwards to smear away that overspilling lather. Clammy ends of his fat thumb pry your lips gently shut so that he can plant an innocent peck. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing- ah- nothing–” It’s a wonder you could mumble even that. Hips perking with every shockwave into an angle that might somehow help keep your sanity, might somehow have your husband’s merciless jackhammers missing- As if he would ever miss. “Just so…”

So much. Too much.

And no matter how much you’re trying to pathetically escape - it only results in you being manhandled by a gruff Nanami into every pliable position he could think of.

You feel like you could almost sob when your husband is tutting away from behind you, drawling out a long, long condensed puff of breath by your ear - before curling a hand around your throat and ramming. 

You swear you hear the crackle and pop! of cursed energy halting every atom in the air.

Blond brows knitting together at just how snug of a fit it was, “Use your ngh- big girl words, darlin’. I know you can.”

But oh, it feels like anything but with the way that Nanami was punishing you with so many heavy-handed pounds and pounds that had you whining. Babbling away, “Can’t- ngh- caaan’t-”

“Sure you can.” One more slam. Then another. And another. “You’re my clever girl, riiight?”

Your head lolls half-lucidly backwards against his broad shoulder, bumping into every ridge of his flexing muscles. Throat exposed just right for him to sink a few neat marks of his teeth. Bite after greedy bite. It makes your drunken tongue lacquer out even more stupidly thick wads of dribble before you can finally answer, “Your- your…cursed technique.”

Ah, you should’ve known that this would happen when your husband was an expert in the ratio technique out of everything. 

And, well, you did. You’d begged for it, in fact - and who was Nanami Kento to go against anything that his dear wife wished for? Whatever you wanted, you got.

Even if you found your melty mind ruined. Incoherent thoughts swirling around dizzily with every mush of his plummy, split-ended shaft right into your saccharinely sweetest spots. Such masterful motions.

“T-told you I’d be a little…rough.” Nanami’s whispering, and you can feel the deep vibrato of his chuckle against your back. Shoving you with every glissade of those sculptured pecs up and down up and down- “Don’- don’t tell me you wanna stop?”

Of course, you didn’t.

And Nanami sounded oh-so-devastated at the very idea. 

Rasping baritone tremoring with something feral…dangerous once he only hiked up one muscular thigh to leverage those powerful thrusts even more ruthlessly. Jujutsu powers pressuring your bodies and making your skin break out in goosebumps.

Like he couldn’t stop. 

Couldn’t - flexing hips out of control every time he was hitting the very backs of your candied pussy with a gummy thwack! Just that split-second of bouncy recoil enough to make Nanami hiss and sink back in ravenously for more more more-

“N-noo–” You’re gasping out once his stern mouth entraps the especially tender skin just below your ear - because with Nanami’s 7:3 powers it didn’t just mean that he knew every sweetest spot inside. He knew each and every one inside, outside, everywhere and anywhere he had to worship to drive you wild. “Jus’ feels too good th-think m’gonna cum again-”

“Awww, my pretty wife can’t heh- handle it?” Such gentle words accompanied by a rough few critical hits right into those magical spots. One. Two. Three. Pap-pap-papping away repeatedly at the velvety sponge of your walls. “S’alright, darlin’, cum.”

When you do it’s with a drawling Kentoooo that rings across his four-cornered office and his ears his favorite song. Your high nothing more than just a few tingling shockwaves that leave you breathless.

And before you can even say a word, Nanami’s shrugging off that familiar yellow tie dangling haphazardly from around his bobbing Adam’s apple. So warm and smelling of his raw masculine musk when he wordlessly tilts your pretty face and muffles you with it.

“Hngh!” You’re hiccuping, when Nanami wraps the ribbony extra fabric of his tie around one staggering hand and pulls. Arching you deliciously into an almost-perfect semi-circle against his feverishly hot front.

Tying off a cute bow at the back of your head, “Shhh sh sh- s’alright. S’alright, dear.” Nanami’s fingers work fast, but his hips are even faster. Not stuttering or slacking off for even a second when he rewards you with a few lazy probes of his veined shaft massaging into your innermost core. “Kento’s here, Kento’s here. Hold onto your Kento, m’kay?”

It’s just about all that you could do - dangling hands latching around his sweat-dampened blond locks and pulling. 

And you swear that only made him plunge in even deeper. You could count every thrumming imprint of his lightning bolted veins. You swear you could feel your knees weaken with the weight of his thick, syrupy strings of buttery pre warming up your insides. 

Only for Nanami to position his thighs directly underneath your own and push and push, fucking you until your heels were almost hanging in midair-

“Jus’ ta keep anyone from overhearin’ those beautiful noises.” He’s humming away, finally finishing up with the knot to let off one big smooch onto your lips through the muzzle. “Because now…m’not gonna go easy on ya, my love. And I plan on hitting the bullseye riiiight–” Globed end of one index straying up, up, up until he was pressing down onto your very womb. He already knew his target. ”-here”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Munchies

“Ohhh, gorgeous–” Geto’s pinkish tongue was so long swiping its way across his plumpened lips, colored with a glossy treacle of your own sappy juices. Enough of it clinging onto his pretty face that it almost makes you feel shy. “-you taste even heh- sweeter than usual. Are ya ovulating?”

You’re squirming your hips - uselessly, of course. 

Barely even able to arch your spine in even a slight degree off of Geto’s face before he’s pulling you back to sit on it with one big, beefy forearm around you’d just tried to steal away his favorite sweet treat.

“S-Sugu—”

But he’s relentless - drunk. Still eating you out through your flimsy, bunched-up mess of sheer panties with such utter greed.

Earning a hot kiss against the perked hood of your clit, twice more. Thrice. Five more times until Geto can even bear to part with a resoundingly loud smooch! “Now now, don’t tell me that pretty lil’ head of yours is fucked dumb enough ta think that you can ah- run away?”

Because the only thing meaner than Geto Suguru’s mouth was the way he made out with your cunt. In a way that no one else ever could.

Years upon years of swallowing curses always made him such an expert for when he had wrapped around his cerise lips was much…sweeter. 

Enough so that you’d caught him many, many times with his five-o’-clock shadow bleached a tawny golden because of your pussy. And he wore it like a medal of honor. 

You’re flinching at the splat! of a syrupy rivulet of saliva hitting smackdab onto the most tender parts of your slit, and the ruggedly fat part of Geto’s thumb flicks away the messy wads. Swirling around in lazy circles over and over, “Got nothin’ ta say for yourself, huh?”

“I c-can’t—” Fisting fingers rovering into the dampened roots of his long, inky locks, you only have to pull for Geto’s sharp jaw to hang slack with a barely-there mewl. “-because it feels too-”

SMACK!

“Was talkin’ to her, y’know?” He’s rolling his eyes, free set of digits curling into the rubbery orifice of your cunt and dredging out such a spraying geyser that lathers every inch of his lower face. “Isn’t that right, my girl?”

You can’t even look away, heart racing when he’s nodding and humming along as much as possible as if he was in conversation with your soaked cunt. 

Geto was ruined - eyes half-lidded and locked only down there, face veiled in a hot maidenly blush, it’s like he was on the very verge of cumming himself. 

Steady fingers lustrous and drenched with all your mess when Geto’s curling them around your sensitive nub to give a good pinch. He’s babbling away, “This turn ya on? Heh- just kidding…of course, this turns ya on.”

God, he could already feel the way something hot and melty floods his veins when your sloppy cunt only lathers in another sheeny coating of honeyed slick. Motioning in slobbering grinds up and down up and down up and down the flat plane of his roughened tastebuds.

Head thrown back, thighs burning with aching fatigue. You were milking yourself on him, and he could use this cute cunt of yours to wash out his expert mouth any day. 

Geto was in heaven. And you think you were close - very, very close. 

“Hck! Fuck—” Your maw parts into an uncontrollable oh! once Geto’s sharp button nose presses down on the soppy target of your clit. And his tongue only bullies between your folds to peak it’s way upwards, “I’m so-”

“What? Already?” He’s tugging ever-so-slightly harder at the puffed-up lips of your perfectly pouted pussy, angling even deeper. More. Slippery muscle smushing against your gummy walls and colliding repeatedly against the most tenderest spot that he could reach. “Hear that? She says- haaaah- that you’re gonna cum already. Might as well jus’ fuckin’ use me, huh.”

You’re whimpering once his jaw grinds up so far into your swivelling mounds that you think you might bruise. Extra gapingly flexible with his technique. 

A steady stream of sappy juices bubble down the slacked corners of his mouth, reaching anywhere and everywhere it could - his handsome cheekbones, his jaw, his neck-

“Oh my god-” And it’s a fucking wonder that you could even manage to formulate your spinning thoughts into coherent words. Two palms latching desperately onto his flowing tresses, your eyes latching onto him, “M’gonna- ah- Suguru, m’gonna c-”

But oh, you didn’t think that was the end of it - did you?

It never would be when he’s plopping you cleanly off of his ruthless mouth with two massive palms hoisted onto the small of your back and a sickly saccharine mwah!

Before you can even blink, you feel the delicious stretch of being split apart.

Of having Geto rip off the now-tattered remnants of your panties. Before letting his rounded, right-leaning cockhead bustle with three exact spanks to your treacly slit, sinking past your slick-flooded entrance - so hot and hefty. 

You’re being stuffed with so many inches upon bulky inches that you swear you could feel him poke into the edges of your lungs. Bloated mushroom head puffing up with greedy ounces of blood even more swollen until you can only keen. 

Grappling to fasten your nails into the cushioned padding of Geto’s generous pecs-

“Just kidding…” He’s bringing up a hand to sniff your sodden panties, and you swear there’s a raspy tremble of pure awe in Geto’s rich voice. Full lower lip being bitten at the sight of your ravaged pussy soaked and bulging around just halfway through his angrily aching length. “L-lemme stare into those pretty eyes when you hah- cum on my cock.”

You can’t help but shuffle your hips for more more more- “S-so big- fuck! Wh-what if it doesn’t fit?”

“Nuh uh, gorgeous–” Geto doesn’t know what’s louder - the waterlogged plap! of his sap-covered fingerpads gifting your stuffed hole with another thickly viscous volume of spittle, or the sound of his own heartbeat thundering. Amethyst irises so unabashedly turned into heart-eyes when he shoots you with a soft, simpering grin. And you swear the edges of his faintish scruff were already bleached copper- “-my good girl s’gonna ngh- take it.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Blood, Sweat, Tears

“C-can I please, baby-” Choso’s panting out through murked clouds of breaths, dewy mahogany eyes staring deeply up into yours. His cutely quivering lip only makes you evermore drenched, “Can we go…again?”

Oh, Choso just couldn’t get enough of you. He thinks he probably never could - not even after hours upon hours upon hours of you riding him fucking stupid like this.

Couldn’t get enough of the way your soppy walls were clinging onto his lazily softening cock with the tightest of French kisses. So warm and wet inside that he could feel your teary slit trickle down a splotchy puddle of slick and sappy cum all down his sweat-shimmered abs. 

And Choso - poor, blushing Choso - simply glazes his fingers to slip n’ slide all down the glossy load of your mess before perking his honeyed fingertips into his mouth-

Sucking - gazing drunkenly dead straight into your eyes. He was ruined. “Please- can I use…that, ma’am?”

Your fluttering cunt clenches around those probing fat veins of his, nudging his blossoming fat tip to glissade riiight across the bruised target of your pulpy g-spot. Humming, “Choso, baby, are you sure?”

Choso’s never been more sure in his entire life. 

“Ngh- yes—” Comes out the breathy slew of an answer, and Choso can’t help but let his handsome buttoned nose crinkle ever-so-slightly once numerous digits of his curl around the bulky circumference of his base. Maw falling slack when that only makes his strawberry divot overfill your goopy insides with a few more steaming hot lathers of his buttery remnants of cum. “I can- I will. N-not gonna let you ngh- down, my baby. Really wan’ just one more, p-please?”

Fuck, you loved it whenever he begged like this. 

And how could you ever say no to that face?

All that it takes for you to roll your hips a few more inches in an ever-deepening angle and nod, all that it takes for the atoms in the sickly sweet air around you to pressurize. 

Stilling your body like it was stuck in molasses before that sexy line tattooed across Choso’s fucked-out features grows-

“F-fuuuuck-” He’s groaning out, baritone timbre cracking with something pained. Desperate. And positioned deliciously on top of him like this, you could practically feel the jujutsu power Choso uses to make himself harder. 

“Will it-”

“Trust me- trust me, baby–” Spitting out through hiccuping swabs of all his staggering length inside you, “I-it’s gonna work- it- ngh- has to…need to fuck you again, baby. Need to be inside–”

It only takes a few more filthy strokes before bit by bit - inch by inch - your tautly stretched walls were being stretched to their limits once more.

“Cho-”

“Jus’ a liiittle more-” He chokes out, “-a little- harder.”

Feeling the throbbing weight of Choso’s shaft only get thicker. So swelteringly hot and girthy when he’s mazing open the gluey orifices of your drooling cunt, rounded tips of his soft digits latching onto your waist and mushing your hips in languid circles round n’ round.

It was a damn good thing that Choso’s technique was just as lecherous as he was. And you almost wondered if he could go on for days - because he was exactly pounding into you like he could.

“Shiiit, Cho-” Your head tumbles backwards with a delirious gasp! when the fleshy mounds of your hips plap! plap! plap! down with sticky stings after each and every battering ram. Nails clawing precariously onto the mountainous curve of his well-defined deltoids, “Th-think you’re even harder than you were ngh- before.”

Ah, he’s slipping out a thickly viscous few gumdrops of pre already down the slippery ends of your cervix. Toned hips jittering up so viciously into yours that you can almost spy the reddening marks formulating across his slender waist like a permanent branding.

“So- so it feels good?” He’s breathing out, like a mantra. You’re being bored at with complete and utter loving in Choso’s tear-welled eyes. “D-does my pretty baby feel gooood w’me inside?”

Tangling your fingers into the silken strands of chestnut brown plastering all over his smooth forehead, ever-perspiring with just how much Choso was focusing his energy. His power. 

You crane your spine into the perfect curvature to plant a saccharine peck right here, something that only makes him whimper. “Mhm– feel s-so good, Cho. You’re doing so well.”

“Really?” He’s blinking those teary lashes in a way that makes you coo at how adorable he was, “M’I hard enough? The blood manipulation is- good?”

“More than hngh- good, baby–” Chuckling at the way that every word only makes his rounded, cum-filled balls thwack! up into you even more riotously. Tight globes of fat squeezing so solidly that Choso has to suck on your blemished lips to even keep his fucking sanity. But that never stopped you. “I love it.” 

Fuck- fuck.

What you certainly didn’t expect was for that little comment to have Choso’s entire Herculean body stiffening, his eyes twinkling with bulbously pearly tears of overstimulation. Sprinkles of sheeny drool sloshing out of the pouty corners of his lips when he’s letting his hang open with a cry of, “N-nooo- wait-”

You’re intertwining your hands with his and it makes his heart race, damn near sending him over the edge. But what really does it are your next words, “I love you, Choso.”

Bumping spheroid of his bloated mushroom cockhead curving up right into the knocking entrance of your womb before he’s heaving. Hunching. 

Before he can only cum-

“Wh-why are you s-soooo–” Choso’s letting his coral pink lips pull back into something that looks almost as feral as a snarl. Is as feral as a snarl. Lolling head faltering into the tender crook of your neck, you almost flinch at just how steamily warm the feverish blush on his cheeks were. Accompanied by the drizzle of something wet n’ warm that you’re sure were delicate tears, “-why do you- d-do this t’me.”

And the abuse of his blood manipulation only made Choso’s tipping point even higher. 

Such massive torrents of cum already flooding into the bottom of your slobbery pussy until you were much, much more than completely filled till and past your puffed-up pussy lips. 

“L-love you-” He’s hissing at the extra sensitivity, sparks of white and heaven and you exploding with bliss behind his scrunched eye-lids. “Love you love you- ngh-”

Choso’s basically melting into you, bulging biceps wrapping around your body so tightly you could count every copious bump and flex of his muscles. You were so stuffed that you felt fit to burst, and Choso’s only managing out husky breaths watching the goblets of creamy ribbons paint rings upon rings around his seething red cock. 

Almost as if on autopilot when he dips down one hand to smear across the decorative slather of ivory white, popping it with a wet fwop! into his greedy mouth. He couldn’t help it.

And by the bolting voltage of jujutsu busting in the heady air, and the rugged twitch of Choso’s treacly-topped head - you already knew what he was about to ask next.

“Baby…just one more?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - BOAF?

“Both? Both?” And despite just how sleazily mocking Ryomen Sukuna’s smirk was, you could hear the way his rumbling bass lilted at the end. Octaves higher. You could feel the tight swell of his breeder balls perk up against your drooling pussy at those particular words, “Keh…so the lil’ human wants both, huh?”

And oh, your sickly saccharine mind had no idea how he was so agile even when towering well above seven feet. 

So staggeringly large - with four big, beefy arms, and two angrily swollen cocks that were more than matching. A monstrous second mouth slashed across about halfway down his incredibly toned abs, drooling and licking its greedy lips just at the heavenly sight of you.

So big. 

So…extra. 

Sukuna was made to ruin you.

Rendering you dizzy already when he flips your positions to splay-out like such a slut underneath you on the king-sized bed. The king of curses giving you power over him. 

The only one he would give it to - not that he would admit it, of course.

Pastel pink hair crowning out like a halo on the decadent silken sheets, Sukuna’s jerking his handsome chin at you like a challenge. One thick brow raising, “So?” Barely even giving you the time to register being letting off a solid spank on the rounded curve of your ass, “Fuckin’ show her t’me.”

“S-so mean…” you’re grumbling, though it’s more to hide the steaming burn of your cheeks when you’re jostling your knees to strain around his waist even further. To show him exactly the heated core he wanted.

Shit, if this was anyone but Ryomen Sukuna then he thinks he could’ve fucking cum from just this. 

The sight of your pretty pussy all puckered and ready to give his cock a big smooch, your swollen folds positively trickling with a neverending rivulet of sticky sap.

He can’t help but drag out a few thickened fingerpads along your syrupy slit, the sharpened textures of his elongated nails making you whimper. 

“Phewww- what a slutty pussy.” Sukuna grins - grins at the way you’re squirming and twitching all on top of him. How cute. “Now, stretch her wiiide open f’me, brat. Lemme see if she can really take heh- both.”

You can see the way that Sukuna’s strawberry-red divots start bawling the very moment you’re plunging in a few trembling fingers past your flooded entrance to present just how badly you wanted him - both of him. Warm, streaming dredges of creamy pre forming a slippy cap on both mushroomed tips. 

Ones that drag slowly between your soppingly wet lips when Sukuna curls a singular hand around his bulky bases, messy and painting your pretty pussy soaked. And another hand to latch onto his favorite spot at your waist.

“Hmmm, fine-” There’s something dark in his hiccuped words, something that makes your toes curl at the way that Sukuna’s boring up at you with devilishly red eyes. “You’ve proven yourself- heh- now ride me, woman.”

You didn’t know who wanted your sloppy pussy to take up every one of Sukuna’s inches more - you or him. 

Because you’re only letting your snug ring of muscle slip n’ slide a drenched trailway only about half an inch down Sukuna’s cylindrical girths before he’s doubling over with a gasp. Before he’s choking out a shaken, “Oh- Ohhhh shit s’tight-”

You’re flinching at the sloshing pool of something so sweltering hot that weighs down your drooly entrance - thick, ribbony spurts of what you thought was precum. What you thought.

But a singular sneaking glance downwards made your heart stutter, a fucked-out little smile of smug satisfaction breaking out across your features when you’re spotting those voluminous ounces of creamy white. Pulpy goblets of white that seep down into a settled ring at the dual bases of Sukuna’s achy lengths. 

You’re breathing out in disbelief, “Did- did you-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Sukuna snarls, elongated canines beared from both sagging maws before his secondary tongue lolls out and slurps up every stringy wad of cum with a deafening squelch. Pushing and pulling to alternate between letting it sliiiide all down his throat and fucking it back into your leaky hole.

So nasty - tasting himself. Tasting you. 

How you loved his cursed body.

You can only gape as he plants numerous other spanks onto the fleshy mounds of your ass with a sharp thwack! thwack! thwack!

“Shut up and-” And you can’t help but ogle the way every perfectly defined muscle on Sukuna’s Herculean body flexes when he jerks his hips and bucks. “-and- t-take it- all- ride me.”

“Kunaaaa–” You’re still feeling the swashing splotches of seed trickle out from you with every one of Sukuna’s dabbing thrusts just to fit inside. More and more - he always came so much. But with two cocks? It was double the torrential waves taking over your steaming insides. “-s’okay to cum earli-”

But, oh, whatever Sukuna wanted - he got. And right now all he wanted was for you to shut that pretty lil’ mouth of yours.

Manifesting his cursed mouth onto one of his free palms before covering the lower half of your face and making out with you. Swabbing the lustrous muscle into the heated cavern of your mouth, you can only gurgle and suck-

“Remember yer talkin’ to yer king, ya puny thing-” Letting him lick up spattered excesses of spittle bubbling from the drunken corners of your mouth with each inch after incredible inch that you were milking. “Shut up and- ride me. Milk me.” More. More. Until you felt like the bustling stretch of your adhesive-like walls would end up with you exploding. “-so ya better be a good fuckin’ girl f’me. And if ya are…”

Sukuna’s tone was just dripping with barely-held back desperation, words tight. Deep.

And the only thing deeper was just how thoroughly inside he was rummaging your gooey channel, pressing an innocent peck against the pulpy exterior of your cervix with a heaving ram. 

Battered and bruised over and over when he sinks in-

“O-oh–” Sukuna’s ravaged lips fall open ever-so-slightly, delicate wires of saliva formulating and snapping from his own mouth now. Brows furrowing, he huffs out a sudden gasp at the sight before him, “If- if ya- ohhhh–” 

But, shit, he was so fucking pussydrunk now.

From the way your slobbering cunt was taking up all of him - he didn’t even think it would be possible. But you always did manage to surprise him. 

Your bulging cunt stretched widely agape around the gleaming lengths of his thickened cocks, all the way until your perked clit was bumping into his wildly tufted happy trail. Slowly glittering a sappy little snailtrail where he was buried until his rotund hilts, a treacly coating of your slick sticking his hefty balls againsts your ass.

And Sukuna’s in heaven - utterly on cloud nine when he rolls his powerful hips upwards with a ringing pap! Shovelling all the way until your rubbery hole was just kissing his ruby red cockheads goodbye, and all the way back-

“S-since you’re my ngh- good girl-” He’s letting his palm part with your lips with a sopping mwah! waterfalling volumes of spittle following right after. “-you should hah- know that…”

Pound after pound. 

He only needed one hand to move you up and down those thirteen-inch shafts like his own personal ragdoll. Another two more to guide them in making sure they poke and probe every one of your most tender spots.

And his final one? Rovering your hands upwards to squeeze one of Sukuna’s generous pecs. So large and cushiony. He’s snickering out, “-that if you squeeze hard ‘nough, you can get milk.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - I lose control.

“I-is this really okay…” Ino’s voice wobbles so cutely - so pathetically that he’s forced to sink his teeth into his peachy lower lip. “-don’t wanna lose-”

“But I want you to, baby—” Your cooing tone is enough to make Ino’s blushing fat head pump out a steaming hot mess of velvety pre between your inner thighs. Thick and sticky. And he lets you - encourages you - to do as you please when your greedy fingertips lather in the slippery puddles of translucent ribbons.

Eyes half-lidded and glossed over with such primal need, a bright burning blush overtakes his cheeks. Maw falling parted when you’re popping your soppingly wet digits inside his mouth. 

He sucks on them like his favorite gummy candy, looking right into your eyes whilst hanging onto every single syllable of yours. “I want you to lose control.”

Oh. 

Oh.

And you never realized that it would mean this-

“G-gonna break you-” Ino’s hiccuping out, overstimulated globs of his tears lathering his long lashes with a fresh coating all over again when one more trembling ram past your slick-filled entrance makes your clingy channel squeeze. Makes Ino’s softened palm plant down a harsh spank right onto your drooling clit, “-fuck- fuck m’gonna break this cute cunt oh-”

Head tumbling lecherously backwards, it’s all he can do to glissade one eager thumb over those extra tender spots of your pretty pussy and work his reverse cursed technique. 

Making you flinch at the axioms and crackles of cursed energy sprinting in white-hot streams down your arched spine. Your words are oh-so-breathless, “Shit- d-didn’t know you could do ngh- this, Taku.” 

“Don’ wanna hurt my pretty girl- n-no matter how rough I get.” 

Years and years of training making your poor bedframe sing out in resonating creaks, and your cunt cry out even louder. 

Saturated squelches emanate all around and make him jut his plump lips out in a pout. Brows raising once a sneaking glance downwards between your filthy thighs shows off such a filthy mess. 

You’re getting wetter and wetter by the second, gushes of your geysering juices spraying out across his rippling abs sinfully. And Ino’s just awestruck when he throws your legs on top of his toned shoulders and bends. Into the meanest mating press ever possible. “But you’re g-getting turned on by this, huh, sweetness?”

Shit- you can’t lie. Not when Ino had his inflated length stuffed so deeply inside you, touching each and every sweetly hidden spot in a syrupy swab. So long n’ girthy that it almost had you cockdrunk already, “Y-yes…”

And the sleazy grin that smears all down his drooling lips is so sexy. Head tilting downwards at you from his best angle, “S’that so?”

Before you can even blink - before you can even register your beloved boyfriend’s response - he’s trekking his mean fingers down to press another one of his mean smacks onto your puffed-up pussy lips. And another. And another-

“My f-filthy girl–” Ino’s drawling out, grin wider than ever when his rounded fingerpads pinch around your plump clit and buzz. Flickering with spasms of vibrating jujutsu that make you squeal, “-wan’ me to go…rougher?”

You’re nodding - nodding and nodding and nodding when that pillaging staccato grows wilder. Bumping Ino’s rounded crownhead into the fleshy parts of your cervix. Balloony curve skidding out ribbony slathers of pre across your soaked g-spot in a way that’s heavenly.

“Harder-” your fingers encircle Ino’s tender throat and squeeze. “You can do it- haaah- harder, Taku.”

“Mhm–” he’s humming, one hand guiding to your trembly wrist and helping your sultry digits tighten. Enough so that his skin burns with the crescent indents of your nails, marking. He’s shifting his hips to jostle a few bumpy veins into your softest patches, “Anything- anything for you, h-heh.”

Enough to make his hips snap! with copious thundering hits that tenderize your melty insides. So many, many times - so harsh that it has Ino’s slender waist reddening. Bruising with every pap! against yours-

“Ch-choke me more, pretty.” Ino’s spitting out, mouth stumbling into yours in a messy, messy French kiss that’s all teeth and lips and sheer need. “Your turn to go harder.”

And when you do, Ino doesn’t give a shit about his blossoming marks and grazes. In fact, he’s slamming! down one hand to leverage himself into an ever-deepening angle. It’s like he was spearheading open every single nook and cranny of yours - no sweet orifice left unturned. 

Ruining himself on your soppy pussy. 

Through your fucked-out heart-eyes you can already see the way cursed energy is rolling off of him in flickering bolts of lightning. Out of control. Burying his head into the crook of your neck with a keening ah! ah! ah! after every second fucking you into the sodden blankets of your bed.

Fuck, and he doesn’t even seem to notice. Smoothing his palms over your stinging mounds with even more overpowering reverse cursed technique. 

Part of him was proud at just how well and thorough he was fucking you, and that other part of him was letting his kiss-bitten lips part with a low whine at how badly he wanted all that evidence to just…stay there.

“S-swear m’gonna break you…” Ino’s mahogany brows furrow together when your gluey walls cling onto his generous girth, something powerful churning behind those droopy lids fighting to stay open. 

“Mhm–” you’re batting your lashes up at him in a way that makes him blush. Teeth glinting in the dim lighting as he snarls, and you’re chuckling as you gift him a slow kiss.

“D-don’t tease me, sweetness- swear m’gonna- haaaah- gonna make sure you don’t forget that I can’t use my ngh- reversed curse technique riiiight–” Knees shuffling apart to widen your own boneless legs, to leave a fat drag of Ino’s leaky mushroom tip in a straight line across your cervix. Slow. Solid. Knocking at your readily pliable womb- “-here.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - “Cum…dump?”

Those were the first words repeated out of Gojo Satoru’s pretty mouth tonight - and they might as well just be his last…ever. 

Because as soon as they’re spilling out into the headily warm air, Gojo can feel his slender fingers twitch at the curve of your hips. Can feel them buzz with such sheer fucking power and need-

The need to give his dear Mrs. Gojo exactly what you’ve been yearning for. 

“H-heh-” Something in Gojo’s lilting voice hitches, cracking just as his mind was right now. Hovering above you as if on autopilot, you catch the way that Gojo’s eyes flicker with something glowing. Prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulps, “Ohh– Christmas came early, huh?”

And times like this, you can’t forget that your husband is the strongest.

Because it only takes all of two nanoseconds for you to find your perspired back laid out cozily against Gojo’s toned front in such a filthy full nelson. Your shoulders mushed up against the curvaceous mounds of his sculptured pecs, head lolling back beside his-

“T-Toru–” you’re squealing when he doesn’t give you even a word of hesitancy or warning before sinking in inch by fucking inch. Unstopping. “-did- did you just fucking teleport–?”

And it was meant as a half-joke - something to get your cottony mind off of the dizzying stretch of Gojo’s thoroughly swollen, rotund head working your glutinous walls open. Mapping in only a few inches from his neverending length before hitting the bullseye of your forbidden sweet spot and making you yelp-

So sinfully good that you almost don’t hear his breathy, rasped-out answer. “Maybe.”

“Wait- what?” You’re snapping open your weighty lids, head jostling over to sneak a glance at Gojo’s pretty features. “You don’t know if you telepor-”

But nothing could have prepared you for just how feral Gojo Satoru looked right about now. Just how gone. 

His cerulean eyes widened and crazed; leering grin plastered all over his face until you couldn’t even see his delicate dimples. Breaths coming out in pants - heaves - until your own body was being motioned up and down with his own like your very own rollercoaster. 

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” Rumbling voice so pained - it sends a shuddering bout of shivers that wrack through your entire body. Gojo’s tilting his head to nuzzle your clammy cheek, “All I know s’that the h-haaah- view is prettyyyy.” 

You startle as the dim bedroom light flicker once he plants a thundering French kiss onto your fleshy cervix with a deafening plap! Then another. And another. And another and- “And my wife? Even prettier.” 

Only a few vulgarly deep hits against the feverish depths of your cunt and Gojo was already pussydrunk.

“G-gonna be my…” Words straining out midway like he couldn’t even bear to finish his sentence, he’s rolling his hips. Hard. Fast. “The prettiest- gonna make you- make you my ah!”

You feel something drenching plat! plat! plat! the curve of your shoulder, and with a sharp jolt you’re realizing that he’s crying. 

Big, fat tears crinkling at the corners of Gojo’s hazily half-lidded eyes, streaming down right along with the honeyed wads of drool trickling from between his lips. 

“Satoru…” You’re craning over a few trembly fingers to brush over the dampened curtains of white blocking his forehead. “-are you-”

It’s only then that Gojo gasps-

Eyes flying open as if he’d been shocked by a burst of electricity the very moment your sensory pads had made mere contact with him. Bucking his hips in such a flexible degree upwards- with such staggering power that you think he’s fucking out any and every thought inside your melty mind right now.

In a flash, Gojo has your hands clutched with one of his; pressing his mouth onto your heated skin in a tender, tender kiss. Murmuring with broken vibrato, “I- I want you. I need you, Mrs. Gojo. R-really need you as my…cum…dump-”

Oh.

Fuck- this was what had him crazed. Depraved. 

“Gonna f-fuck you with ngh- unlimited void–” he’s sputtering into your ear, free hands leaving buzzing spank after spank on your perked clit. Powerful. And you swear you could feel the cursed energy on his fingertips, “-g’na be my cumdump forever then. H-hehhh forever and ever and oh!”

Gojo’s catching his delirious gaze onto where he was greedily disappearing from between your puffy lips. And with a mewl, you’re realizing that the corners of his eyes were just trailing with flickers of bright blue lightning. 

Locked on where you were pursed and poised to take every hit after hit. He leaves your slick-sheened entrance molding open even wider, and your sultry g-spots all battered and bruised. But that wasn’t what had Gojo entranced, no- 

He’s letting off a snicker, “Awww- would ya look at hah- that. Yer so close ta cumming, sweetheart.”

“H-how do you know-” You’re rambling away, only to realize that shit, this was what had Gojo bludgeoning his rounded cockhead with almost scary accuracy. This was what had your head spinning after every sticky thwack! of Gojo’s hips. “-y-you’re using your six eyes, Toru?”

“Ohhh, much more than that, my girl-” Followed with a slippery swat right onto your pulpy nub that leaves your eyes rolling to the back of your head. And Gojo’s bloated pinkish balls soaked through with another fresh wave of your sappy arousal, “M’gonna do exactly as you asked-” 

Watching and watching - Gojo’s mouth waters at that perfect picture of his cylindrical length ruining your insides. How he wished you could see just how perfectly your dewy walls were milking him.

Sighing - oh, he’s so in love. “Gonna be my- my h-heh- ohhh! Here she comes…”

And it’s just as Gojo predicted. 

Just as he saw - you’re falling apart underneath him with just a few more fat thuds right into all your favorite spots. Shooting up such heavenly bliss all throughout your veins; you’re grappling onto Gojo’s shoulders, his hair, his forearms-

“M’cumming-” Just about all that you can strangle out from your straining throat, hips jerking up and down in vicious gyrations to drag your peaks out for even longer. “Cumming- ah- m’cumming m’cumming–”

“I already know.” Gojo’s rolling his eyes - yet, you don’t see. Hell, you don’t even see the way that he’s twitching his free fingers into a hand sign that looked so familiar. “L-let’s see if the strongest fucks- e-even stronger.”

All you know is that the lights shatter. 

All you can hear is the creaking drag of furniture as they drag loosely towards where you and Gojo were ricketing the bed - as if attracted by some sort of magnetic force field. 

And the only thing you can feel is every atom in your body has been supercharged to the max. Pure energy flashing red and white behind your eyes when Gojo hooks a thumb into your elastic ringlet and makes just enough room for the sheer torrentials of cum he’s flooding you with.

“S’gonna b-be a biiig stretch, sweetheart–” He’s musing out, sweat-shimmered head tilting into yours like he could barely even manage to keep himself upright. He couldn’t. “Deep breaths- deeep breaths, m’kay? Take it allll f’me.”

You couldn’t waste a single drop.

And it was so hard to breathe when it felt like you were being filled to the very brim. Even more than that, in fact. Long, viscous-like rivers of his treacly cum being pumped into you with every needy rut.

Gojo’s slurring out wet streaks of his sobbing cock down your innermost core, frosting out such a weighty coating of seed that sloshes around like a gluey second skin. Smearing it round n’ round until you could only babble stupidly following every one of his pokes into your tenderest spots.

So much. He was cumming extra tonight, the slightest massage of your sweltering walls overworking his overstimulated mind into cumming again. And again.

And again until you were wondering how your snug cunt even had the-

“-space?” Gojo’s finishing off your thought for you. And you’re not sure if you’re prattling them out loud or whether he could read minds. You’re not sure if Gojo himself knew. “Let’s j-just say I- ahhh- used a little- ngh- unlimited void…”

Unlimited void? 

“Ngh- what- you really used unlimited void to-” you’re squealing pathetically, only to be shush-ed delicately by a reverent Gojo Satoru. His hips still jackhammering away sloppily into yours-

His cock softening - just for a split-second until he clasps a stray hand around his sap-coated base and radiates a few emissions of power. Tugging in filthy jerks until he was once more achy and rock-hard. Using reverse cursed technique on himself - then on you to make sure you don’t break any bones…yet.

Oh god, you’re not making it out of tonight alive.

“J-jus’ a little ah- experiment.” He places one lingering peck at your temple, and then another one drilling into your g-spot. “-but experiments always hafta have t-twenty-five trials, right?”

A/N. No Higgy this week, sowwy Higuruma nation <3 Hope you all have a lovely week!

Plagiarism not authorized.

[gojosprettyprincess]

STEP BRO KATSUKI HELPING YOU<3

Tw - Stepcest, dubcon in the beginning, Creampie, dumbification, anal play, he's aged up to 19, dirty talk, heavy degradation and Bakugou is really really mean cause he's Bakugou duh, slight daddy kink, some bad grammar bc it's not proofread.

Word count - 2350

"Katsuki Katsuki! Holy fuck are you deaf or something?! I'm stuck!" you yelled at the top of your lungs as you tried your very best to wiggle yourself out from the washing machine opening. You can't even remember how you got yourself into this fucking mess, you were just trying to look and see if there were any more clothing pieces left behind because you've been noticing a few of your panties have gone missing the past few days and it kept getting worse and worse to the point where you barely have any left to wear, you assumed it's because you accidentally kept leaving them in the washing machine and now somehow you're fucking stuck.

Heavy substantial footsteps were heard loudly outside the room before the wooden door went flying open, causing the doorknob to hit against the wall, causing a loud bang!, "The fuck do you want, can't you see I'm tryna fucking play?", the annoyed blond growled at you.

"Shut up and get me the fuck out!", You yelled annoyed, while kicking your legs back to get his attention.

"Woah some mess you got yourself into, sweetheart" he smirks slyly while analyzing the situation, staring down at your pretty ass poking out of the washing machine, barely even covered by those tight slutty shorts you always wore around the house that never failed to make his cock rock hard.

"Oh please, just shut up and get me out already", you kicked your feet back hoping that he was behind you so it would hit him. "I don't think that's how you speak to someone you're trying to get help from, princess".

You rolled your eyes at the annoying pet names he always calls you every fucking time but you've grown used to it by now but the constant teasing was so fucking annoying. "Listen are you going to help me or not?".

"That depends princess, are you gonna beg me to or not?" you wanted to punch him in the face so fucking badly, imagining the shit-eating grin he definitely has plastered on his face right now. "You're so fucking annoying! No way go to hell!" you yelled.

"Oh yeah? Is that so"

He chuckled as he bent down behind you, eyes fixated on the way the thin material hugged your ass cheeks so tightly and delicious. you're so vulnerable in this position, he could keep you there and pound your slutty little holes for hours and hours if he wants to—which is probably what he's gonna do anyways.

He pressed the pad of his thumb against your damped crotch, rubbing it slowly back and forth as he watched the way your body jolted unexpectedly.

"Wha-what are you doing! You sick fuck??" you screamed as you tried to wiggle your ass away from his hold. "Oh, come on princess, let's have some fun yeah? You might even like it" he teases before tugging down your tiny shorts, just to be greeted with your glistening dripping cunt. A string of your slick connects to the crotch of the shorts before snapping away as he pulls it down to your knee. He groaned as his eyes took in the delicious sight in front of him. "No panties? And you're fucking dripping, you probably planned this out and did this purposely just so I can come and see you like this, dirty fucking slut". he lands a harsh slap on your right ass cheek as you closed your eyes in embarrassment when you realized you're basically fucking exposed to him.

"Go to fucking hell you perv" You snapped back at him, "Oh yeah? I'm the perv?, I'm not the one fucking soaked and dripping onto the floor sweetheart". He laughs mockingly.

His dick was painfully hard and eager, straining to be released from his sweatpants, what can a man do? It's not his fault his dumb little stepsister always runs around the house with those tight little booty shorts, ass almost fully exposed, basically begging to be pounded and now he has his chance so why not take it?

He pulls his sweatpants and underwear down, thick perfectly curved dick slaps against his abdomen as pre cum oozes out of the angry red tip. he grips his fist around it before pumping himself a few times while circling your clit with his thumb, "Pretty little cunt you got here princess, been hiding this from me this whole time?"

"S-stop it Katsuki, this is wrong! You're my stepbrother, we can't do this!" you whined, it's so fucking wrong and fucked up and you sure as hell knew that, you just can't help but feel your needy cunt throbbing and yearning for more, it's only natural right?

Before you could even process anything else you felt his angry tip lining up at your entrance, his thick cock head bullying and prying it's way into your weeping tight hole before he shoves it all the way in unexpectedly, knocking the wind out of you as you hissed at the sudden pain.

"Hahh fuckk- Katsuki slow down!" you moaned as he starts thrusting his hard cock in and out of you like it was his mission to bruise and mark up your silky walls with his tip, strong hands gripping onto your waist as he stretches out your poor cunt with his fat girth, splitting that pretty little cunny in half as it drips all over him. "Holy fuckk you're so fucking tight hah- shitt", he hisses as your pussy clenches around him snugly. tightest cunt he ever fucked for sure.

He started pounding you harder, gripping the oversized T-shirt you wore as he rammed himself in the tight warm space between your thighs.

"Stupid little slut, is this what you need to shut that annoying little mouth of yours, my dick pounding this little pussy?" he took a mental note to give you exactly what you wanted when you're acting up and being a little bitchy brat to him. "Sh-ut up katsu-" shit you couldn't even form proper words to even say his fucking name. "You're the fucking worse fuh-ckk" you moaned out of pleasure. You can't even lie his cock was the best you've ever had and it's only been minutes since he started fucking you so that surely says a lot, his tip was grazing against the right spots in your hole, it's like his dick knew all the parts in cunt that would make your eyes roll to the back of your head and he was stretching your stuffy cunt with his cock soo good, it turnt you into a moaning mess.

"Oh yeah I know my cock is good you little slut, Gonna fuck you so stupid with it, you won't ever think about another guy's dick other than your stepbrother's" he smirks as he lands a hard slap on your ripped ass, watching the way the thick flesh jiggles against him, bouncing back against his pelvis as he drills himself so fucking deep inside of you. You're his little glory hole, he can stuff you full and deep of his seed and use your tight pussy for hours and fuck you so dumb that you can't even think for the rest of the week if he wants to.

He circles his thumb over your neglected butthole, the puckered hole fluttering against the pad of his thumb as he notices the way your moans got sweeter and louder at the gesture. He won't be surprised if you're a slut for anal he snooped through your room a shit ton of times looking for your dirty cum-stained panties he uses to jerk off to, to know that you have several jeweled anal plugs hidden away in your drawer.

"Mmm want me to put it in baby?" he teases, adoring the way the pink ring flutters on his thumb, soo eager and hungry to be stuffed and played with, "Ye-yes pleasee!" you hiccupped, purposely winking your hole for him desperately as a form of inviting him. "Heh, how cute" he mumbled before gathering your slick from your clit to rub it on the tiny rim before slowly sinking it in little by little. He groaned as he felt your cunt throbbing around his cock as your hungry asshole swallows his thumb into the hilt.

Heavy balls slapping against your clit as your eyes roll back to the back of your head as if you were possessed or something- or maybe you were, possessed by his fucking cock hitting your favorite spots in your hole that had you seeing stars. His cock was so fucking good, mushroom tip kissing your cervix with every single one of his mean thrusts. "Fuck wish I could play with those pretty tits" he groans, head falling back as he moans, your cunt felt like fucking heaven, so warm and tight just for him.

"Kat-Katsuki m' so close" you moaned as you felt the familiar feeling in your stomach building up, "Yeah? That fast? My cock is that good huh?".

You let out a porn star-worthy moan when you felt his thick thumb sliding in and out of your tight bullied walls, matching the rough brutal pace of the pounding he was giving your poor pussy. He lifts up one of his legs and plants his feet flat on the floor so he can drill deeper into your cunt, "Fuckk yes daddy- don't stop fuck! Please don't stop" you cried out as you felt yourself approaching your release.

He chuckled mockingly, "Daddy huh? You're such a fucking dirty whore ya know that?" he slapped your ass so fucking hard that his handprint was definitely branded on your ass cheek, "Didn't know my dear little stepsis was such a cock-hungry slut, what'd ya think mom would say if she found out her innocent daughter was milking her stepbrother's cock and calling him daddy hm? Always knew you were a whore" he smirks as you whimpered and dripped to his mean words.

He pulled his thumb out of your butthole slowly and then groaned when he saw the delicious little gape he created. He brought his thumb up to his mouth before sucking it, gathering spit onto the finger then circling it around the gaped hole.

"Fuckk would you look at that, she's all prepped and ready for my cock, maybe after I'm done stuffing your cunt, I'll fill this one up too, bet you'll fucking like that", you felt his cock throbbing like crazy in your pussy as he imagined stuffing both of holes with his bitter cum and having you all plugged up n pretty with his seed deep in your asshole and the only thing keeping it in is the princess plug you have hidden away in your drawer— buried deep inside your ass.

You almost screamed when you felt him stabbing his cock into your cunt even harder, strong hands gripping your waist tightly to keep you still as he rams his hips against yours. The friction of his heavy balls slapping your clit made it feel even better as your cunt clenches around his cock, threatening to milk his balls into your pussy. You're not surprised that Bakugou was this good at fucking, after all, he was really fucking sexy and built, of course he had a lot of experience. You cried out when you felt his fingers rubbing harsh harsh circles on your clit, "Come on slut, need ya to cum on my cock, don't make me repeat myself" he grunts, head falling back when he feels your cunny squeezing around his cock soo much fucking tighter. You closed your eyes as you felt your orgasm approaching. His thrust was so fucking brutal, it's like he has some fucking personal problem and is taking it out on your poor cunt.

Before you could process anything else, you were gushing all over his pretty cock, warm liquid squirting all over his abs and pelvis and he continues pounding you through it, he lets out a slurpy moan while laughing, "Fuckk yeah that's it baby that's it, Gooddd girl" he thrusts got sloppier and sloppier when he felt his balls tightening. He didn't expect you to fucking squirt and make a mess all over him so it drove him fucking crazy.

You felt his cock twisting against your tight walls, assuming he was about to cum. Fuck, you felt so lifeless. The only thing holding you up was Katsuki's strong grip on your waist and the washing machine because you can't even think right now, your mind fully fucking clouded with his cock bullying your poor insides, splitting your sweet cunny apart. Fuck he's so mean, you shivered when you felt his fingers digging deep into your waist.

"Fuck m'gonna cum, gonna stuff this slutty cunt so full of my seed, it'll come right out your mouth bitch" he hisses before emptying his balls in your pussy, thick ropes of cum filling up your cumdump of a hole as you cried out when you felt his angry tip pushing the cum further and further into your cunny, making sure to stuff you full and not let any of it leak out or you'd have to lick it up.

He chuckles darkly when he hears you're out of breath whimpers. "Is this what you needed? A good little filling to shut that pretty mouth of yours? Because if it's dick you need to function properly you know where to find me baby" he chuckles, slowly pulling out his still-hard cock, being sooo careful that none of the cum drips out. He lines his tip up at the entrance of your butthole, smearing the cum onto the hole as it winks at him.

"Ready for the other filling?"

[caelivir]

“are ya sure yer not dating (y/n)?” osamu suddenly asks his brother during a quiet lunch between the two of them.

atsumu chokes on the grains of rice in his mouth, coughing violently and punching his chest. when he finally settles down, he throws a glare at his brother. “what the hell, ‘samu?”

“that’s not an answer.” osamu continues to press.

“we’re not!” atsumu answers, picking up a piece of chicken katsu with his chopsticks. “i don’t like them like that. they don’t like me like that. we’re just friends.”

the bright red-pink of his ears speak otherwise. you see, osamu knows his twin better than he knows himself. he knows that whatever comes out of atsumu’s mouth is a load of crap. just friends? yeah fucking right.

osamu has never seen his brother look at anyone the way he looks at you, starlight and pure adoration swirling in his irises. he acts as if your every word were an earth-shaking prophecy sent by the heavens. his honey brown eyes stare, and he smiles so gently that it makes him sick.

friends aren’t touchy in the way you guys are. you hold each other’s hand like it’s nothing. with interlocked fingers, atsumu will trace his thumb down the back of your hand for no apparent reason. when you’re bored, you’ll take atsumu’s hand into your lap and play with it, bending his fingers, comparing hand sizes, and running a featherlight touch across the expanse of his palm to see if he’ll react.

osamu notices how you never miss the opportunity to find a seat on his brother’s lap. whether there are no seats of available or ten open ones, you will always choose atsumu. and it’s not like he’s complaining about it. in fact, osamu thinks that he waits for it because atsumu would never want to miss the chance to secure his arms around your waist and whisper into your ear amidst a loud conversation.

and you can’t forget the cuddles, and the hugs that linger longer than they should, and the way you’ll cup atsumu’s face, and the way you play with his piss blond hair.

you’re the one person atsumu lets wear his jersey to his game. he ensures you get the best seat to watch him play. osamu doesn’t miss the way his twin looks at you before every serve or the way you cheer the loudest when he scores an ace.

osamu doesn’t think that someone who “doesn’t like you” would be thinking about you every time they shop. “(y/n) likes this snack”. “(y/n) would love this shirt”. “oh hey, (y/n) showed me this”. “‘samu, should i buy this for (y/n)?”.

osamu has never seen two people so madly in love before. he doesn’t know how you guys haven’t realized it yet. and he can’t keep playing along because atsumu’s katsu looks really good right now.

“right…” osamu chooses to answer, dipping his chicken into the tonkatsu sauce. “i sure hope they’re gonna have fun on that date they have today.”

his brother’s chopsticks clatter onto the table before rolling onto the floor. the sight of atsumu’s open mouth filled with rice is unsightly, and osamu has to suppress his laugh.

“they didn’t tell you?” osamu raises an eyebrow.

“no?!” atsumu suddenly stands, slamming his palms into the table.

“yeah, i think they’re gonna leave soon.” osamu lies easily. there is no date. but of course, does ‘tsumu really need to know that?

the blond twin practically bolts away from the dining table and out of the house. when the door slams shut, osamu grins to himself, reaching for the unfinished plate in front of him.

“he can thank me later.”

atsumu brainrot never ends. something short and sweet bc school is kicking my ass.

[girlygguk]

CRAZY | JJK (Part 1)

summary you know it sounds twisted. that most people would see hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. that’s when you realized... you weren't like most people. but that's okay. because neither is jungkook.

pairing ceo!jk x employee!(f)reader

rating 18+ minors dni; smut, fluff, angst

genre coworkers to lovers au, established relationship

word count 15.5k

content jk 29 | yn 26, very jealous controlling and possessive jk, same for oc, spirited & bratty oc, jk is rich and spoils his girl, pet names, toxic relo, jk is a red flag, oc is a red flag, they’re obsessed w each other, bonnie n clyde ride or die type shit, soft yandere, drama, mc arguments, cursing, they get angry quick and over it quicker, bar fighting, jk punches a guy.. or two, blood, oc is roughly grabbed on arm by a male w/o consent, canon couple

warnings dom jk, sub oc, pre established traffic light sw system, daddy kink, consensual degradation, fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), dirty talk, breeding kink, condomless p in v sex, oc has a birth control implant, multiple orgasms, creampie, kinda rough(?) sex but i think it ends quite softly, theyre dirty and in love!

a/n pls read all the warnings first & only proceed if ur comfortable!! these two are superr obsessively codependent and possessive so tread lightly baby 🙂‍↕️!! im kinda self conscious abt the smut but i like the fic part and i hope u do too <<3 lemme know if i missed any tags 🖤 mwah

crazy pt 2 | masterlist | join my taglist | banner credit

There was something dangerous about him. Something you couldn’t help but be drawn to, no matter how much you knew you shouldn’t. It was like playing with fire—intoxicating, thrilling… stupid.

You knew it complicated things, maybe even made life harder, but you never had been one to back down from a challenge. And when someone like Jeon Jungkook—the kind of man who looked like pure trouble but made you feel more alive than you ever had—walked into your life, resisting him was never even an option.

It hadn’t always been like this. You used to date Park Hyungwon, after all.

Hyungwon was perfectly fine. Kind, sweet, thoughtful in all the ways that made him a good guy. The type who held open doors and asked if you wanted to split dessert. You’d met him through his cousin, Jimin—your colleague and an absolute angel on Earth. In fact, you ended up closer to Jimin than you ever were with Hyungwon.

Because Hyungwon? He was just… ordinary.

There was nothing wrong with ordinary. Some people needed that. They craved stability, predictability. But you? You realized a long time ago that you needed more. You craved intensity. You needed to feel like someone’s whole world. And when your boyfriend didn’t care who you were with, what you were doing, when he didn’t even notice if you went days without texting… well, you started to feel invisible.

You knew it sounded twisted. That most people would see Hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. Healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. But that’s when you realized... you weren’t like most people.

And then he entered the picture.

Jeon Jungkook, CEO of Jeon Corp, son of the late Jeon Jun-seo.

You’d been at Jeon Corp for three years now, starting as a temp and moving into a more permanent role. Everyone knew him—the young, ruthless leader who took over seamlessly and ran things with an iron grip after his father's passing. People admired him, respected him. Feared him.

It had been two years since you made it official with the man you knew was the epic love of your life. Before that, you were friends with benefits for—what, a week? Maybe less. You both knew right from the start that there was no going back to being just colleagues or fuck-buddies. He consumed you, and you reveled in every second of it.

In the early days of your relationship, you couldn’t help but worry. Maybe your promotion had less to do with your work ethic and more to do with Jungkook lusting for you. It was hard not to question it, especially when he was your boss, and you knew exactly how intense his desire for you was. But Jungkook shut that shit down fast.

He had hundreds of employees under him, most of whom he hadn’t even had a proper conversation with. He’d approached you solely because of your performance—your results catching his attention long before he even knew what you looked like. Jimin had confirmed it.

Still, you loved teasing him about it—how he’d basically been eye-fucking you the entire time during your first real meeting. Jungkook never denied it. He would just give you that cheeky, devilish grin of his, reminding you just how that meeting had concluded—with you, bent right over his desk.

Now, sitting at Lumi’s bar with the soft murmur of conversations and the clink of glasses fading into background noise, your phone buzzed with a new message. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, heat spreading through your veins as you read his words.

My Love 10:43 PM Why is your location off? Sent with Siri

10:43 PM Turn it on. Now. Sent with Siri

You bit your lip, already imagining the storm brewing inside him. He was driving, and now probably wasn’t the best time to mess with him. But you were still pissed. And the brat in you couldn’t resist poking him just a little more.

You 10:47 PM i'm out, my love.

His reply was immediate, almost before you even hit send.

My Love 10:47 PM Not in the mood baby. Turn it on

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh as you took another sip of your drink. You could picture him now, pulling the car over, typing furiously with that adorable, frustrated frown. Oh, he was pissed—but that only made it more fun. You let him stew for a few minutes longer.

You 10:52 PM bad day at work? :(

His next texts came in a flurry, and you could almost feel the heat in them.

My Love 10:52 PM Why the fuck are you taking so long to respond? Who are you with?

10:53 PM You didnt tell me you were going out tonight and I just went all the way to your fucking house to find out you’re not even there? And your car’s gone? You drove to go out??? Are you fucking crazy?

His jealousy stoked a fire inside you. You knew better than to test his patience... but you just couldn’t help yourself.

You pulled up your camera and hit record. It started with your legs—crossed elegantly on the stool, the hem of your little black dress riding up just enough to tease. You let your foot swing, the glossy polish on your toes catching the dim light. The clip was short, but you knew Jungkook would recognize the bar in an instant.

Then, you flipped the camera. Your face came into view, framed by a pout and the neckline of your dress—the replacement for the one he’d ripped clean off you the last time some idiot tried to touch you. Jungkook had beaten the guy to a pulp, of course, which was why you were both banned from JaeJae's nightclub downtown. But you hadn’t cared then, and you certainly didn’t now.

Just before you stopped recording, you made sure the camera caught a glimpse of the arm next to you—the arm belonging to the guy who had been sulking since you brushed off his lame advances. You had been ignoring him ever since you walked in, but apparently, he was as clueless as he was underwhelming.

You hadn’t expected to be at this bar alone. In fact, you were supposed to be home with Jungkook tonight. He’d promised an early finish—four o’clock, to be exact—and you’d planned a cute pamper night for the two of you. Face masks, cheesy rom-coms. You even baked cookies.

But then, three o’clock rolled around, and your phone rang. His voice on the other end was apologetic, practically rehearsed at this point. He had to stay late. Again. Not even just a little late—ten-fucking-thirty late. Two hours past his usual finishing time.

You were livid. He promised you tonight.

You hadn’t even let him finish his sentence before hanging up, ignoring the rapid flood of missed calls and texts as you angrily dumped the chocolate chip cookies in the trash.

You were so pissed you might’ve even made his assistant, Hoseok, cry when Jungkook sent him over to check on you. Poor guy. You’d apologize later. Maybe.

By the time 10:32 hit and your phone was still silent, that pit of anger in your stomach twisted into something much sharper. You pulled up the security cameras at his office—and, of course, the room was empty. His briefcase, his keys… all gone.

He had left work without even telling you.

He always texted you when he was leaving the office. You knew there wasn’t a chance in hell it was infidelity; that wasn’t even a possibility. Cheating wasn’t something either of you entertained. But the silence? The lack of communication? That cut.

Sure, you’d been ignoring his calls ever since he canceled on you… but you were allowed to be pissed right now. He? Was not.

When your doorbell camera alert went off at 10:42, right before you were about to check his location, you felt a mix of relief and annoyance rise in your chest. You pulled up the feed to see him standing there—frustrated, fist clenched around his phone, clearly ready for a confrontation.

But you weren’t home.

You were here, at this grimy, sticky bar. Waiting.

The guy next to you shifted in his seat again, breaking you out of your thoughts. He was still there, lingering, despite your obvious disinterest. But honestly, you were kind of glad he hadn’t left.

Because the response you got from Jungkook when you hit send on that video?

Absolutely fucking perfect.

My Love 10:55 PM I'll be there in five minutes.

10:56 PM And if there is anyone sitting next to you who doesn't have a cunt or the name Park Jimin, theyre fucking dead Y/N

10:56 PM And you’re fucking walking home

You suppressed a laugh as you wiped the sugary remnants of your drink from your lips, knowing better than anyone just how serious he was.

As much as you hated to admit it, you loved the way Jungkook loved you. His possessiveness didn’t bother you. In fact, it drove you wild. That definitely made you as much of a red flag as him. But did you care?

A few minutes passed as you took some selfies and uploaded them to your Instagram story, twirling the straw in your glass absentmindedly. Then you remembered the idiot next to you.

"Oh," you said, clearing your throat. He perked up immediately, pulling his beer away from his lips as he turned toward you, eyes lighting up in anticipation. Gross. "You might want to leave."

His smile faltered, confusion knitting his brow. "What?"

You blinked, tilting your head slightly as if he hadn’t just heard you. Leaning in closer, you repeated yourself. "I said, you might want to leave."

He chuckled, leaning in way too close, his breath hot and stale. “Why would I do that? Sitting next to a pretty thing like you? You look a little bored, baby… I can keep you entertained.”

You suppressed a gag. "Hard pass." You shuddered, pulling back. “But really, my boyfriend’s on his way, and he’s pissed. You might want to move down a seat or two.”

He just laughed, lifting his beer again and taking a long gulp, his eyes creepily never leaving yours. "I can handle myself just fine, sweetheart. It’s hot that you’re worried about me, though."

God. You’d never been drier in your entire life.

"Your funeral," you muttered, rolling your eyes as you turned back to your phone.

A few more minutes passed in silence, and just when you thought the idiot might’ve finally left you alone, you felt him shift again, turning toward you like he was about to start up another conversation. You sighed, not actually wanting to watch another guy get the shit beaten out of him. So, you grabbed your purse and your half-empty glass, ready to leave.

But just as you slid off the stool, his hand wrapped around your arm.

"Where are you going, baby?” His voice dripped with sleaze. “This playing hard-to-get thing was sexy at first, but now it’s getting kinda boring.”

Your stomach turned, and you yanked your arm from his grip, disgust curling your lip. "Eugh, could you be any more of a stereotypical douche? Get a fucking life."

You took a step to leave, but his hand clamped down on your arm again, harder this time.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, huh?” His voice dropped, and a sickening grin spread across his face as his fingers dug deeper into your skin. “That’s okay. I like ’em that way.”

Rage flared in your chest, hot and immediate. Without thinking, your hand swung forward, and the rest of your drink splashed across his smug face. His eyes widened in shock, the liquid dripping off his chin, but you weren’t finished.

Your free hand darted into the outer pocket of your purse, fingers wrapping around the pink pepper spray canister Jungkook bought for you. You whipped it out, aiming the nozzle directly at his face and pressed down hard.

“Fuck!” he screamed, stumbling back, hands flying to his eyes. But you didn’t let up. The adrenaline thrummed in your veins as you kept spraying, ignoring the yelps and curses spilling from his lips as he clawed at his burning face.

“You crazy fucking bitch! Stop!”

“God, you piece of shit!” you yelled, uncaring of the stares now fixed on you. “Don’t ever touch anyone when they don’t want you to! Fucking pig!”

The can felt significantly lighter by the time you finally stopped, and the guy was practically on his knees, whimpering. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the bartender waving security in your direction and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Typical. He’d been close enough to hear everything, but now he wanted to intervene?

“Cunt,” you muttered under your breath, slamming your empty glass on the bar before turning to leave.

“I’m going, I’m going,” you scoffed as the guard approached, adjusting your purse on your shoulder and smoothing down the hem of your dress. As you turned to walk away, you pulled out your phone, thumb hovering over Jungkook’s contact.

But before you could make it far, a heavy hand pressed into your back, shoving you toward the exit.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you snapped, stumbling as the security guard forced you forward. “I said I’m leaving. I’m just calling my boyfriend. Let go of me, freak—”

“Ma’am, don’t speak to me like that,” the guard growled, his voice deep and commanding. “Get outside, now.”

“I'm going, you big loof. Can you at least let me wait in the bathroom? If my boyfriend sees me standing outside alone, he’s gonna—”

"I don’t care what he’s gonna do to you, ma’am. Keep moving."

You almost laughed. "Do to me?" You were about to tell him how wrong he had it—that he should be the one worried—when suddenly, the hand on your back vanished. You stopped, brushing yourself off, ready to turn and gloat.

But it wasn’t your words that made him let go. It was Jungkook.

Your very angry boyfriend had shoved the guard—who was easily twice his size—backwards so hard the guy stumbled, nearly falling over.

Jungkook’s eyes were wild, flicking between you and the security guard, a dangerous mix of concern and pure rage.

"Oh, hi, baby—"

“Get in the car,” he growled, his voice low and deadly as he handed you his keys. “And lock the fucking doors. Now.”

His tone sent a shiver down your spine, and you bit back the urge to argue. Instead, you took the keys and turned toward the door, but the security guard wasn’t backing down.

"You and your bitch need to leave now," the guard snapped. "You’re banned from this bar."

Another one? You almost pouted, but he kept going.

"We have you on CCTV. If the victim presses charges, you’ll be contacted."

“What victim?” You laughed, taking a step toward the guy. “You’re gonna let that pig press charges?”

Jungkook’s head snapped toward you, jaw clenched, staying firmly between you and the goon. “What is he talking about? Who’s pressing charges?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you gestured toward the guy still rubbing his eyes with a bar towel, water dripping down his face. “That idiot. But it’s fine, baby. I finally got to use the pepper spray you gave me,” you added, poking Jungkook’s stomach with a giddy smile.

His lips twitched, but his expression stayed serious. “Why’d you have to use it?”

You shrugged, tilting your head, giving him that innocent look you knew drove him crazy. "He kept trying to touch me, but don’t worry, I handled it. Let’s go now, please."

But Jungkook’s gaze was already darkening, his eyes now fixed on the pathetic excuse of a man across the room. You could see the anger rising, feel the tension radiating off him, and you knew he was seconds away from losing his shit.

“Let’s just go, love,” you urged, voice rushing as you eyed the situation. “It’s over now.”

The security guard had disappeared to fetch backup, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the thought. The fact that he needed help dealing with Jungkook was almost laughable. Your man might not have been the biggest guy in the room, but you knew that shove must have rattled him, seeing as though the sidekick he'd now acquired was even bigger than he was.

And they were both stomping toward you.

You turned to warn Jungkook, “Baby—” but as your eyes shifted back to him, he was no longer at your side.

Your gaze snapped to the bar. There he was—storming up to the sleazebag still nursing his wet eyes with a towel, completely unaware that your furious boyfriend was closing in behind him. Ugh, he was like an angry, sexy bunny.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, pushing past a couple of people and hurrying over as quick as you could in your three-thousand-dollar stilettos.

As turned on as you were by the sight of him right now, you really didn’t need him missing work tomorrow because he'd been locked up for the night.

And then you, of course, also missing work because you had to sleep in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to his cell, since the officers wouldn’t accept bail again until he had completed his twelve-hour minimum hold.

You were almost there when you saw it—Jungkook’s hand gripping the back of the guy’s collar, yanking him back with so much force that the idiot’s eyes flew open in shock, panic flooding his face as he realized what was happening.

You bit your lip, trying to shove away the image that popped into your head of Jungkook’s hand tangled in your hair, pulling you up in that exact same way when he had you beneath him, forcing your eyes on his as he drove into you from behind.

God, not now, Y/N.

“Koo, baby, wait—” you called, but it was too late. He was gone.

Before the guy could even think about pushing Jungkook off, your boyfriend slammed his head down onto the bar with a sickening crack that echoed through the room. You winced, feeling the pain in your own skull just by watching it.

“Fuckkkk,” you hissed, finally reaching him and grabbing his arm. His muscles were rigid, vibrating with barely controlled rage. “Baby, come on. Security is coming—let’s go—”

But your words didn’t register. Jungkook was in another world, eyes burning with an almost feral intensity as he jerked the guy back up.

Without hesitation, he reeled back and delivered a brutal punch to the guy’s face, the thud of knuckles against bone filled the space as the man’s head snapped to the side, his knees buckling as he collapsed to the floor in a heap.

You sucked your teeth in frustration. You couldn’t care less if the guy sat there on the ground and bled out, truly. What you did care about was the thought of Jimin covering your shift tomorrow because you had to spend the night bailing Jungkook out of jail again.

“Okay, my love, that’s good. Now let’s go—”

“Baby, go and—” Jungkook growled, his voice dangerous and low, as he lifted the guy again. His fist swung forward, colliding with the man’s nose, and you winced at the sharp crunch that followed. The guy collapsed again, shaky hands cradling his face as blood spurted from his mouth.

Jungkook’s head whipped around, his dark gaze locking onto you with a ferocity that sent a chill down your spine. “Go and get in the fucking car,” he snapped.

“No, you fucking idiot, come with me—”

Before you could finish your sentence, your feet were suddenly off the ground, the world spinning as you were slung over a massive shoulder. It took you a second to process what the fuck was happening.

"What the fuck!" you screamed, pounding your fists against the back of the goliath security guard who was carrying you like a sack of potatoes. Your purse fell to the ground as the guy just kept walking toward the exit like you were nothing. "Put me down, you fucking freak!"

Through your distorted, lopsided vision, you caught sight of the other, even bigger, guard heading for Jungkook while you were being dragged away.

The second your boyfriend saw what was happening to you, the loser he had been beating on was forgotten. His eyes locked on the guard manhandling you, and fury ignited in his expression.

The guard approaching barely had time to take a step before Jungkook threw him to the ground like he weighed nothing. His unbuttoned dress shirt sleeves exposed the veins in his arms, rippling as he stormed toward you with a look that promised murder. Yummy.

You were still smacking the back of the giant guard carrying you, panic creeping in as the door got closer and closer. "Baby, my purse!" you whined, halting your attack for a second and pointing to the ground. Jungkook was already stalking past it. "Pick it up!"

He grunted in frustration, turning on his heel to grab the fallen Prada before charging back after you. 

The guard reached the door just as Jungkook caught up, and you braced yourself for the moment you’d be tossed out like trash. But in one quick motion, Jungkook grabbed your outstretched hand and used his other hand to grab you by the bum, pulling you off the guard’s shoulder.

You beamed as he set you back on your feet, happily taking your purse from him while he just rolled his eyes. Then, he turned and sent his fist straight to the giant’s jaw. The guard actually stumbled backward, clearly feeling the weight of the hit, and for a brief moment, you thought it was over.

But then the bastard straightened up, cracked his neck like a fucking terminator, and stepped forward again, completely unfazed.

"What. The. Fuck," you seethed, your eyes widening in disbelief. You grabbed Jungkook’s hand, tugging him back, but he was already mirroring the guard’s steps, ready to go again.

"Nope," you muttered, wrapping your arms around his bicep and using every ounce of strength to drag him toward the door.

You knew he could easily overpower you, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as he debated it. But after a beat, he scoffed, shooting a final glare at the guard, who had stopped in place, phone in hand as he watched you haul Jungkook outside.

Probably calling the cops, taking down your registration—whatever the fuck. You could already imagine the panic on Jeon Co.’s PR team’s faces when they caught wind of this fuck fest of a night.

You finally let go of Jungkook’s arm when you got outside, your hand diving into your purse for his car keys. He followed close behind, silent but simmering with rage, as you both made your way to his car. It was parked right next to the entrance—definitely not in an actual spot—but he clearly didn’t care. He’d probably left it there to get to you faster.

As soon as the cold air hit your face and you and Jungkook were away from everyone, it’s like all your anger from earlier flooded right back.

You marched straight toward the driver’s seat, just wanting to get the hell out of there, but before you could reach for the door handle, Jungkook’s bruised hand snaked around your waist and pulled you back against him. He plucked the keys from your hand with ease, scoffing under his breath as he ushered you toward the passenger side.

"Give me the fucking keys, Jungkook—"

He let out a dark, humorless laugh. "First of all, you’ve been drinking. Don’t be fucking stupid. Second of all, why do you sound like you’re mad at me? I’m mad at you!"

"I had a fucking lemonade, I didn’t drink, you psycho!" you snapped, spinning on your heel to face him. "And, I’m sorry, mad at me?" You shoved his hand off your stomach and made a grab for the keys, but he slipped them into his pocket, resting his hand right over them like he was daring you to try.

"You’re the one who just went ape-shit and beat half the bar to a fucking pulp!"

"Don’t be dramatic," he rolled his eyes, leaning casually against the car like he hadn’t just trashed multiple people inside.

"You just fucking—"

He narrowed his eyes dangerously. "And why am I here in the first place, Y/N?"

"Oh, I don’t know," you snapped back, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe because you’re a—"

You cut yourself off this time, catching the slight arch of his brows—just a fraction.

His head tilted, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips.

"I’m a what, baby?" His voice was low, amused, taunting.

You squinted at him, but he just waited, utterly patient, like he had all the time in the world.

"I’m a what?"

Your eyes rolled to the sky in frustration, and you turned your back on him, yanking on the door handle in frustration. But of course, it was locked. You didn’t even bother looking back at him.

"Open the door, Jungkook."

"Sure," he jingled the keys in his pocket with infuriating calmness, "When you finish your sentence. I’m a what?"

You glared over your shoulder at him, biting back a snarl as your eyes raked down his stupidly gorgeous frame. Tousled hair, the top two buttons of his dress shirt sluttily popped open, bruised and bloody hands casually tucked into the pockets of his designer slacks. So fucking annoying.

"You," you started, eyes narrowing as you stepped back. "Are sleeping alone tonight." You punctuated it with a sarcastic smile before pushing off the car and storming down the street toward your own.

The second you started walking, you heard his footsteps trailing after you like a shadow. You just shook your head, your tone clipped as you bit out, "Go home, Jungkook. Your home. I’m sleeping at my own place tonight."

"Mm, and how do you plan on getting there?" His voice followed, calm—too calm.

"Hmm, take a wild fucking guess, genius," you snapped, diving back into your purse to grab your keys. But your hand came up empty.

"Mother fucker," you hissed, spinning around to find yourself face-to-face with his broad chest. You took a breath, glaring up at him. "Give me my keys."

"When you finish what you were saying," he replied lowly.

You scoffed, incredulous. "You’ll give me my keys and let me drive home if I finish my sentence?" You almost laughed in his face, knowing damn well he was full of shit.

"No," he shrugged, his honesty almost infuriating, "but I still want you to say it."

You groaned, exasperated. "Why is it so important to you—"

"Everything you say is important to me." His tone was unflinchingly direct. "And I want to know what you think of me."

For a split second, your heart tugged at his words, even as the anger bubbling in your chest fought to take over.

You weren’t mad at him for going in there and smashing that dirty sleaze’s head into the counter. You weren’t mad that he had taken on the Goliath twins like a reckless maniac with no concern for his own well-being.

You were mad because he lied to you.

"A liar." The words slipped from your lips, quiet but cutting, your eyes locking with his.

The flicker of pain that flashed across his gaze was immediate. He hadn’t been expecting that. He had braced himself for you to call him a possessive jerk, a jealous asshole, even a fucking loser. But not that.

"Baby," Jungkook swallowed, his beaten hands slowly gliding down to caress the sides of the dress he both loved and hated seeing you in. "I’m so sorry."

"Yeah," you nodded, rolling your eyes as you turned your head away just as he tried to lean down for a kiss. "Always are, huh?"

"Please, don’t," he sighed softly, his breath warm against your neck as his nose nuzzled into your skin. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had buried his fist into a guy’s jaw just five minutes ago. “I would never leave your side if I didn’t have to. You know that. You have to know that.”

"And you just had to stay back tonight of all nights?" Your words were sharp, cutting. "Couldn’t get one of your two fucking assistants to carry some of the workload? Or maybe that slut from level 7 who’s always begging to take some stress off her ‘big, hunky, hardworking boss?’"

Jungkook let out a low chuckle, nipping at your neck in amusement when you imitated Heejin’s voice. She hadn’t ever said anything quite that bold—obviously. You would’ve had him fire her on the spot if she had. But her lingering glances, the way she was always offering herself up for extra tasks, the way she hovered around… yeah, her actions spoke louder than words, and it made your blood fucking boil.

"Our board meeting ran way overtime, and they sprung last-minute critical amendments on us for the Cypher Project, baby," he mumbled into your skin, his lips brushing along the curve of your neck. "You know no one else could’ve handled it, or I would’ve been out of there."

"Okay." You nodded, lips pressing together as you let him kiss your neck for a while, but your mind was still racing.

"Okay?" he echoed in a hum, his mouth moving lower, pressing another soft kiss just above your collarbone. He sounded almost suspicious at how easily you seemed to be dropping the argument.

"Okay," you repeated, still letting him kiss you, your body slightly relaxing under his touch.

He hummed again, but then something clicked. No. This was too easy. You were never this quick to drop an argument. There wasn’t nearly enough groveling.

"Baby—"

Before he could finish, your hand shot into his left pocket, snatching the keys and shoving him you off with your other hand. He stumbled back, eyes wide with surprise as he barely caught his balance. You didn’t wait around to see him recover; you just turned and headed straight for your car.

Of course, he followed.

"Baby, come on—"

You didn’t stop, your pace quickening as you adjusted your handbag on your shoulder. "Nope. Don’t care."

"Baby, I'm fucking sorry."

"Uh-huh," you muttered, clicking the button to unlock your car before yanking the door open. He was right behind you, still trying.

“You’re not seriously leaving me right now, are you?”

You shot him a cold glance, leaning on the car door. “Yep. Maybe you should call Heejin—see if she’s free tonight. She can keep my side of the bed warm,” you spat, sliding into the driver’s seat.

His jaw ticked, tongue poking at the side of his cheek as he leaned back, letting you slam the door in his face. The engine roared to life, filling the thick silence between you two, but he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he nodded, something dark flashing in his eyes as his teeth toyed with his lip ring.

“You know I’m just gonna follow you, right?” His low voice carried through the glass, calm as ever.

You rolled your eyes, throwing the car into gear and pulling out of the lot.

But you weren’t the least bit surprised when, just a few moments later, you caught sight of his car pulling out right behind you.

He was home before you.

Not that you were surprised. You had gotten the doorbell alert two streets over, and it only made you scoff, your foot easing off the gas as you slowed down even more, wanting to make him wait. You had briefly considered going to Jimin’s for the night, but you knew better. Even though Jungkook had a soft spot for his assistant, there was no way in hell he’d let you sleep over at another guy’s house, and you weren't about to drag Jimin into that.

Sliding out of your car, you said nothing, grabbing your coat and purse from the passenger seat before locking it. Jungkook was already perched on your front doorstep, his head snapping up the second your tires crunched against the driveway.

“Baby, I need you to turn your location back on. I get it. You made your point—”

“Don’t start, Jungkook.” You sighed, your heels clicking against the stone steps as you brushed past him to unlock the front door.

You didn’t even bother closing the door behind you as you walked in, knowing he was right behind, the sound of it clicking shut as he locked it for you. Your purse and coat landed carelessly on the hallway table, and your fingers instinctively massaged the soreness creeping up the side of your neck. Without a word, Jungkook crouched down and slipped off your heels, lining them up neatly next to his shoes.

It was late, and the exhaustion that had been chasing you all night was finally sinking in. Your body ached, your mind was running on fumes, and all you really wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep. But something in the air told you that wasn’t happening any time soon. Whether it would be another argument, angry makeup sex, or another night of kicking Jungkook to the couch—only to lie sleepless for an hour before dragging his ass back to your bed—you weren’t sure yet.

Your steps were slow as you made your way to the bathroom, flicking the light on before leaning heavily against the sink. You cracked your neck, your eyes closing for a brief moment as the exhaustion took over.

You didn’t even flinch when Jungkook’s chest pressed against your back, his strong arms slipping around you as he reached for the faucet to wash his hands. The water ran pinkish, swirling down the drain as it cleared the blood and dirt from his knuckles, but you weren’t concerned. He knew how to throw a punch safely—years of boxing and training made sure of that. This was very mild compared to the damage he’d done in the early days of your relationship. Back then, you’d spent more time getting him unbanned from clubs than actually enjoying them.

He dried his hands slowly, taking his time before reaching for one of your hair ties on the counter. His fingers worked through your hair, gathering it into a loose ponytail.

You were far too drained to even consider pushing him away—not that you would’ve, even if you weren’t. Upset? Sure. But truly mad? Not really.

You knew exactly what you were getting into when you fell for a wildly successful, young CEO. Long nights, last-minute cancellations, missed plans—it was the nature of his world. Normally, you accepted it. But tonight had been different. Tonight was supposed to be one of the rare, precious evenings you finally had time to spend together after months of clashing schedules. You’d planned for it, gotten excited about it, and then… it was ruined. So, yeah, you were pissed.

But at the same time, you understood. The Cypher Project was monumental for Jeon Corp. Jungkook had poured nearly a year of blood, sweat, and no sleep into it. It was his baby, and only a handful of people were allowed anywhere near it—his assistants, his CCO, and you. This project mattered. But god, you missed him.

This, though? This was just typical Jeon Jungkook groveling. He’d pamper you, apologize at least a thousand times, buy you another bag or three, and then fuck you until you couldn’t remember why you were mad in the first place. The order of events varied; the bags sometimes took a day or two to arrive.

Once your hair was up, he gently spun you around and lifted you onto the bathroom counter. Your eyes remained shut as he moved between your legs, his long arms reaching for your skincare products. You didn’t have to tell him anything—he knew your routine better than you did at this point.

Before he got started, you cracked one eye open, just for a moment, grabbing his right hand and holding it softly in your lap. Your thumb traced over his knuckles, following the tiny splits. One was still bleeding slightly, while the other looked like it would be bruising by morning.

“Getting better, baby. Barely any blood this time,” you hummed, lifting his hand to your lips and pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles before closing your eyes again, waiting.

He smiled at that, though you couldn’t see it. The weight of the towel settled on your lap, and his hand left yours, resting lightly on your chest as he leaned you down, cupping warm water from the sink to wet your face. You stayed still, letting him move through the motions, only shifting when he needed you to. His touch was precise but gentle as he massaged the cleanser into your skin.

Your toes wiggled absentmindedly on either side of his thighs, tapping softly against him while he moved through your products, handling each one with practiced ease.

Jungkook was quiet for a moment before he finally spoke.

"I want to move in with you."

You didn’t open your eyes—mostly because your face was covered in toner—but the way your feet stopped swinging and your eyebrows shot up said everything.

“Well, that’s one way to grovel,” you muttered under your breath, leaning down blindly to rinse your face. Jungkook cupped his hand, helping you wash off the spots you missed before gently wiping your face dry with the towel. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips through the fabric.

Cute, you thought.

“Gross,” you mumbled, the faintest smile tugging at your lips.

He didn’t respond, just slipped his hands down your bare legs, wrapping them securely around his waist. You tugged the towel down and blinked up at his pretty face. He just stood there, quiet, watching you. Waiting.

"Are you waiting for something?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He bit his lip, barely concealing a smile. “Hmm. Is that how you’re going to be?”

“I don’t know what you mean…”

“So your answer is no, then.” He hummed.

“My answer is nothing because you didn’t ask me a question,” you retorted, brattily swatting his bum with your foot, the light tap making him smirk.

“It’s going to happen eventually,” he said, his tone certain, almost mocking, as he leaned down to brush his lips against yours. His hand caught your ankle, stopping your wandering toe from getting too close to the no-go zone. Well, except that one ti—

“May as well get it out of the way, baby.”

“Oh,” you laughed, amusement coloring your voice as you unwrapped your legs from his waist, resting them on the counter. “Glad you consider the next step in our relationship something we should just get out of the way.”

His eyes sparkled with amusement as he pulled your legs back down, positioning himself firmly between them again, his hands settling possessively on your thighs. “You know what I mean,” he murmured, his voice dipping into a low growl.

“You already know I’d do anything with you, baby,” you sighed, rolling your eyes as your feet lifted back up to drum lightly against his bum. “But I’m annoyed that you asked me this right after an argument. You’re just doing what you think will make me happy—”

The cold, metallic sensation on your thigh interrupted your sentence. Frowning, you glanced down to see his tattooed hand resting on your skin, something small and cool pressed beneath his palm.

Your brows furrowed. “Move your hand, Kookie.”

He didn’t move, his gaze locking with yours. His eyes were serious—more serious than you’d seen in a long while. And that was saying something. Jungkook was always confident, always certain about your relationship, but this… this was different.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his tongue flicking at his lip ring.

“Yes?” you asked, your voice softening as your finger reached up to gently swat his tongue away before you adjusted his lip ring back into place.

“You know how much I love you, right? Like, really know how in love with you I am?” His voice was so genuine, his eyes searching yours intently.

Your head tilted slightly as you swallowed the urge to tease him. The feeling of that little cool object under his palm had your mind racing. You already knew exactly what it was, and if you’d been wearing underwear right now, they’d be fucking soaked.

“I do,” you nodded just as seriously, your hands resting on the counter on either side of your thighs as you leaned forward, waiting for his pouty lips to meet yours. He didn’t make you wait long, leaning down immediately, humming as you gently suckled on his tongue and over his lip ring before pulling back.

“I know, baby. I feel it every day." You spoke against his lips, giving them a soft peck before pulling back a little, "I’m so lucky to have you all to myself. I love you just as much, my darling. I hope you know that.”

“I do, baby.” He nodded, leaning down to brush his pretty nose against yours. “You’re it for me, angel. There’s no one after you. That, I know.”

“Mmh,” you grunted in delight, your nose scrunching as your hand snaked around the back of his neck, pulling him down to your lips, hard.

Jungkook melted into you instantly, his hands finding their way up your body as he kissed you with the kind of need that made your entire body hum. His fingers curled into the back of your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss, and you moaned softly against his mouth, just as his hands moved lower.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, breaking the kiss suddenly as your eyes dropped to the now-uncovered little piece of metal resting on your thigh.

Tears welled up in your eyes the moment you saw it. Your hand darted down, snatching up the now-warm key like it was made of glass, your fingers trembling as you inspected it. This wasn’t a key to his penthouse—you already had one of those.

This was new. Bigger. And turning you the fuck on.

Jungkook's bunny teeth grazed his lip ring, a rare flicker of hesitation crossing his face as he watched you silently. Jeon Jungkook didn’t get nervous. He was rich, successful, gorgeous, and had the hottest girl he had ever seen in his life all to himself. But even he couldn’t deny that his heart was beating a little fast, or whatever.

“Baby, fuck," you choked out, your brows furrowing as the tears threatened to spill over. You looked up at him, still clutching the key. "You fucking... ugh!"

Your hand gripped the collar of his shirt, yanking him back down to you. You kissed him again, deep and needy, your lips crashing against his with a desperation you couldn’t quite name.

"Love me that much, hm?" you mumbled between kisses, your voice husky, body arching into him as his tattooed hands slid down your sides, long fingers squeezing around the soft flesh. "Bought me a fucking house, huh, baby?"

Jungkook’s smirk brushed against your lips, so cocky, so him. “Well, I’m not fucking renting it.”

A loud laugh bubbled out of you, muffled by his mouth still pressed against yours. It was cut short when his tongue slipped past your parted lips, hot and familiar, moving with practiced ease.

His tongue... fuck, with the number of times and places you’d had it in your body, you were sure you could pick it out from a lineup blindfolded. Skilled, wet, with that lingering touch of cigarette. Fucking perfect.

You grunted against his mouth, your hand blindly reaching to set the key on the counter without pulling away. “Told you to stop smoking.”

“Told you to get fucked,” he hummed back, his words vibrating on your tongue as his hands slid from your hips to your ass, gripping hard enough to make you gasp before pulling you flush against his growing bulge.

“Cunt,” you giggled, your fingers tangling around the back of his neck, pulling him in deeper, your tongue chasing that smoky flavor as heat pulsed between your legs. The softest whine escaped your lips as you swallowed his taste.

“Bitch,” he mumbled lowly, tattooed fingers giving a dirty squeeze to your ass, brows furrowing in delight as his hips ground into yours, the thick, hard length of him pressing between your thighs. Even through the layers of fabric, the friction sent a needy throb straight to your clit.

Your nails scratched lightly against the nape of his neck, and just as you were about to bite down on his tongue, he suddenly pulled back, leaving your lips parted in a confused pout.

“What?” you whined, trying to tug him back down to your mouth, but he wasn’t budging. His eyes were locked in place.

On your crotch.

Oh.

“Y/N.” His voice dropped, deeper, more dangerous.

“Yes, my love?” you blinked innocently, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He didn’t move.

“Are you not wearing fucking panties?”

“Um,” you pursed your lips, pretending to think. “Would you believe me if I said I was?”

Your boyfriend scoffed sorely, giving a bitter nod before peeling himself from you completely and walking out of the bathroom.

You sat there for a second, blinking, frowning at the sight of him walking away, watching how the thick muscles in his back rippled beneath his shirt. God, you just wanted to run your tongue over every inch of that perfect, sinful skin, remembering all the times you had gotten off just by riding that big fucking back—

Shit.

“Baby!” you called after him with a pout, hopping off the counter and ignoring the sticky feeling between your thighs as your feet hit the floor. You wobbled slightly, legs stiff from sitting too long. With a quick kiss to the key resting beside the sink, you dropped it into your jewelry case and scurried after your angry boyfriend.

“Kookie, hold on…” The sound of your footsteps echoed down the hallway, needy and impatient.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You were really pissed when he canceled, okay, and so you did the one thing you knew would get under his skin... going commando in public when he wasn’t around.

You fully expected him to find out at the bar or during some angry foreplay at home. Then, he’d get all sexy, possessive, and you’d end up screaming his name so loud your neighbors would complain again.

But not like this. Not after he’d been so gentle, taking your makeup off with soft, careful touches. Not after he’d just given you the key to the fucking house he bought for the two of you! He was probably feeling all soft and vulnerable, having just taken such a big step in your relationship...

You know, people didn’t really get it—but deep down, your boyfriend was just a big, cuddly teddy bear. Sure, a teddy bear with like three assault charges, but that’s besides the point.

God. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Jungkook didn’t stop. He rounded the corner into your bedroom, shoulders stiff, jaw clenched.

You followed him in, flicking on the light just in time to see him unbuttoning his shirt, quietly tugging it free from where it had been tucked into his slacks. His back was to you, standing near your vanity, jaw tight with restraint, anger radiating off him in waves.

The muscles in his broad shoulders flexed as you stepped closer, your palms sliding up the expanse of his back.

"Baby, I'm—"

"Don't." His voice was low, firm—a quiet command cutting off any apology on the tip of your tongue. He pulled his shirt off, tossing it over the chair beside him before his hand moved to his belt, the metallic clink sounding sharper in the silence of the room.

You sighed softly, pressing a kiss to his warm, bare shoulder, the skin still taut with tension. Your forehead rested against his back as your arms wrapped around his waist, holding him close. “Are you mad at me?”

"Mhm." He scoffed, pulling his belt through the loops and throwing it onto the growing pile of clothes.

Without a word, he shrugged off your hold, his back stiff as he walked over to your dresser. Opening the middle drawer, he pulled out one of his shirts, and without even looking back at you, he held it out.

You didn’t hesitate, taking it from his hand. He didn’t need to say anything—Jungkook never wore shirts to bed. Your fingers slipped behind your back, tugging down the zipper of your dress before you let the fabric fall in a pool at your feet.

His eyes caught your movement in the mirror, and he scoffed softly, watching as you unclasped your bra. The bra slipped down, the absence of panties now glaringly obvious. His expression tightened as you slid his shirt over your head, the oversized fabric falling to mid-thigh.

Jungkook unbuttoned his slacks in silence, shoving them off until he stood in just his briefs. He bent down, gathering both of your discarded clothes before disappearing into the bathroom to toss them into the hamper.

You heard the water running as you pulled the band from your hair and padded toward the bathroom, wanting to brush your teeth too. But before you could enter, he stepped out, his tall frame blocking the doorway.

"Get in bed," he said sternly, leaving no room for argument.

You pouted but turned around, dragging your feet toward the bed. From the way he flicked off the light behind you, it was clear you weren’t getting dicked down tonight. Jungkook always kept the lights on when he was fucking you—he liked to see everything properly. You frowned as you crawled under the covers.

"My love," you started softly, watching his back as he climbed into bed, turning to face the window. He didn’t respond. "Baby, please—"

"I’m so fucking angry," he finally spoke, his voice low, thick with frustration. Your hand raked over the tattoos covering his tense arm as you scooted closer, your fingertips tracing the ink in the way you always did to calm him down.

"Turn around and go to sleep," he grumbled, laced with warning.

"Can’t sleep when you’re mad at me. You know that," you whined softly, shuffling closer until you were pressed against his back, your leg draping over his waist, pulling yourself into his space.

He tensed under your touch but didn’t push you away.

You nuzzled into him, your cheek resting on his shoulder, hand tracing gentle patterns along his side. "Talk to me, baby," you whispered, your voice soft, pleading. "Please."

"You knew it would piss me off. I don’t know why you’re surprised—"

"Yeah, but I thought it would be like sexy, possessive, fuck me into the mattress mad…" Your words were muffled as your lips brushed against the warmth of his back, speaking directly into his skin. “I didn’t expect you to ask me to move in with you, baby—”

"So, if I didn’t," he interrupted, tugging the blanket over his shoulder, brushing you off in the process. "You wouldn’t be sorry at all?"

You frowned, pulling the blanket back down and reclaiming your spot, pressing yourself against him again.

“Not really,” you admitted, lips finding the little heart tattoo on his shoulder blade that he’d let you needle into him. You pressed a gentle kiss to it, your voice softening into a playful coo. “Was really mad at you. But then you were all stupidly cute and you bought us a fucking houseee, baby.”

Your fingers curled around his bare side, your kisses turning into quick, playful pecks across the tattoo. "And now I am very..." You pressed another kiss to his skin, “sorry.” Kiss. “My love.” Kiss.

He shifted slightly, his body tense but responsive to your touch. You knew you were getting to him, your lips soft against his inked skin, your tone low and slow. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t stop you, not entirely immune to the way your kisses trailed over his back, or the way your fingers skimmed down his side.

“You think you can just kiss me and make it better?” His voice was still low, but there was something softer creeping into it, the edges of his anger starting to blur under your touch.

You gazed affectionately at your softie's back, a smile playing on your lips as you rubbed your nose over the tattoo. “Maybe,” you hummed. “But I can do a little more than kiss you, if that's not enough…” you whispered, your hand trailing lower, brushing just above the waistband of his briefs.

He let out a small, frustrated sigh, but his body betrayed him—muscles relaxing slightly under your touch.

“Brat,” he muttered under his breath, shifting his position to lie on his back, allowing the blanket to slide down his body and reveal his broad, toned chest.

A soft, approving grunt left your lips as you shamelessly drank in the view, your eyes lingering on your favorite tattoo, scribbled prettily across his chest.

You’ve always been vocal about your love for Jungkook’s tattoos—they’re one of your favorite things about him. Some hold more meaning than others, but they're all breathtakingly beautiful. Honestly, with the number of times your nails have raked down his skin while he takes you like an untamed force, you’d think the ink would’ve rubbed off by now.

But your favorite? The tattoo nestled right below his left, perfectly pink nipple.

Your name.

You’ve never been one for tattoos on yourself, and you know people have all sorts of opinions about getting your partner’s name etched into your skin—a curse, they say. But when Jungkook told you, not asked, told you that he was going to get your name tattooed on him, you'd never dropped to your knees so fast in your life.

You were both lounging lazily on his couch, enjoying one of those rare days off, when he told you the news. The next twelve hours were spent on his lap, with the couch left in a state that required professional cleaning. Jungkook was very upset when you had it cleaned while he was at work, but you made it up to him.

By telling him you wanted one too.

You could already picture your sweet Christian mother rolling in her grave at the thought of you getting a tattoo, let alone your boyfriend’s name—the same boyfriend who’s done things to you no amount of repentance could ever erase. But it’s okay. You planned to get it in a place she wouldn’t see, wherever she’s watching from.

When you told Jungkook about your plan to get matching ink, it led to the second most tender and passionate sex you’d ever had—the first being the day you both said “I love you�� for the first time. He's a sap like that.

You were supposed to get "Jungkook" etched onto your inner thigh, but the moment the needle touched your skin, you knew there was no way in hell you were sitting through all eight letters. So, you settled for "JK." Still adorable, and you loved it. So did he.

He’s obsessed with it, sometimes spending hours suckling on the ink. He’ll fall asleep with his head in your lap, the tattooed skin nestled in his mouth like a pacifier. His hand gravitates there when you're out to dinner with friends, resting directly on the spot if you're wearing a skirt, over your jeans if you're not.

Jungkook, of course, got your entire first name and let you pick where it would go. He only had one condition: it had to be on the front of his body—somewhere on his chest or maybe his thigh. When you asked why, he simply said he wasn’t getting any other tattoos there. That space was only for you.

You immediately picked the spot under your favorite nipple of his, and rode him into the sunset right after.

Angel isn’t a word most people—well, any people—would use to describe Jeon Jungkook. But for you, it’s that simple.

He’s your angel. Your short-tempered, jealous, possessive, fiery-fisted angel. For forever and then some.

Despite your boyfriend's irritated expression, you could sense the familiar heat building up in him, causing his eyes to darken and his teeth to tug on his lip rings unconsciously. You felt yourself clench around nothing at the sight.

God, you were down so bad.

A sly grin tugged at your lips as you shifted, sliding your leg over his waist to straddle him, your bare heat pressing flush against the hard bulge straining beneath his briefs. A soft, satisfied hum escaped your throat as you leaned down, letting your lips graze along the sharp line of his jaw.

“Thought you liked your bitches bratty,” you murmured, the words brushing against his lip rings. You kissed your way slowly, deliberately down his neck. “Heard Heejin can get real mouthy.”

“Hm, she’s not usually that bad around me,” he said, his tone casual, almost playful. His tattooed fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, tracing lazily along your sides. “Then again, her mouth is usually otherwise occupied.”

Your lips froze mid-kiss against his neck, the heat in the room shifting as a bubbling wave of jealousy swirled low in your stomach. You knew he was only matching your teasing with his own, but it didn’t stop the image from forming—Heejin, beneath you, as you straddled her in this exact position. Only this time, you weren’t smirking. This time, your hands gripped a pillow, pressing it down firmly until her frantic kicks finally stilled.

You recovered quickly, trailing your kisses lower down his chest. “Yeah?” you bit, voice tight as you continued kissing along his skin. “She suck your cock just the way you like it, baby?”

Jungkook swallowed a shiver as you slid down his body, your mouth hovering over his chest. The tension between you thickened as your teeth grazed his nipple, your tongue darting out just enough to tease.

“Yeah,” he answered, voice strained as he felt your hot breath fan over him. “She’s real sloppy with it. Bit surprising, considering she acts like a fucking church girl in the office—”

You waited until his nipple hardened from the sensation of your breath before biting down, hard, sinking your teeth into the sensitive skin.

His reaction was instant—a sharp hiss slipping through his clenched teeth as his fingers dug into your sides on instinct, gripping you hard enough to leave marks.

His hips jerked up against you, the friction sending a spark through your core as he tried to suppress the groan building in his throat at your obvious stake to claim. His restraint was fading, and you couldn't fucking wait.

You followed up with a soft lick, soothing the now-red nub before lowering your mouth to press a wet, possessive kiss over your tattoo on his chest.

“Sorry,” you mumbled insincerely, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with him.

Jungkook’s gaze was fiery, narrowed as he looked up at you, but you could see the way his breath quickened, his stomach contracting deliciously beneath your bare heat that he was affected.

The grip on your hips tightened, pulling you down harder as he let out a low warning. "Careful, baby."

You smiled small, dragging your nails lightly over his abdomen as you trailed back up his body. “Sorry, baby. Hyungwon used to love it when I did that—"

You didn’t get to finish your sentence before Jungkook was flipping you onto your back, his hands gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head. The look in his eyes was dark, jaw clenched tight as he loomed over you.

If there was one thing that drove Jungkook over the edge, it was when you mentioned your ex.

"Think you're so funny, hm?" His voice dropped low, a dangerous edge creeping in as his grip on your wrists tightened slightly, his gaze darkening as it scanned your face. You could feel the shift—he was serious now.

You pouted up at him, a small smile still playing on your lips. “Just being honest, love. Hyungwon’s left nipple was really sensitive—”

A deep scoff reverberated from Jungkook’s chest, his fingers tightening their hold just enough to send a shiver down your spine. He leaned down, his nose brushing yours as his jaw clenched.

"If you ever comp—" he stopped abruptly, his breath unsteady, voice shaking with barely-contained rage at being compared to the guy he’d nearly put into a coma the last time he laid eyes on him. His jaw clenched, tongue sliding over the inside of his cheek as he glared down at you. "Say his name again, Y/N. I fucking dare you."

You don't know why you did it.

Maybe you lacked survival instincts. Or maybe it was because you were wetter than the fucking Atlantic.

Oh well. Too late now.

"Hyungw—"

You barely got through the first syllable before you were flipped onto your stomach, your cheek pressed into the mattress, the sudden force of the movement knocking the air from your lungs.

A grunt escaped your lips, your head tilting just enough to catch your breath. You could barely contain the smile threatening to spread across your face, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as a thrill of excitement raced through your veins.

Fucking finally.

Jungkook’s weight vanished from the bed, and though every nerve in your body screamed at you to move, you knew better. You had been here before, too many times to count. Sitting up to look at him would earn you more than just punishment—it would leave you edged and begging for release until you were a writhing, pathetic mess. Normally, you’d relish every second of that torture, but right now you were too fucking soaked and too fucking needy to drag this out any longer. You haven't had his cock inside you since before he left your place for work this morning.

And that was like… seventeen fucking hours ago!

Your body thrummed with anticipation, the ache between your thighs pulsing as you stayed perfectly still, hands flat at your sides. You nuzzled deeper into the pillow with a pleased hum, toes wiggling in eager impatience.

Then came the sound you were waiting for.

He was back behind you, the loud click of the belt buckle confirming it. "'M getting too soft on you, baby." His voice was low, dark.

The mattress dipped beneath his weight, and you felt the cold brush of the belt against your bare thighs, the sensation jolting straight to your core.

You bit down harder on your lip, resisting the urge to respond. You knew that would only make it worse. And better.

"Let you ignore my texts," he hummed, the belt dragging slowly up the curve of your legs, making you squirm involuntarily under his touch.

"Let you walk around with no fucking panties," he growled, his hands pulling up the hem of his shirt so your body was fully exposed to him. You immediately gripped the fabric, holding it tight so it stayed in place, eager to feel the weight of his eyes on your bare skin.

"Bought you a fucking house."

He rested the belt on your waist, a promise of what was to come, then his fingers trailed lower, sliding exactly where you wanted them. He gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks just enough to let you feel the warm brush of his fingers against your slick heat.

"This what you wanted, baby?" His voice was a low, mocking drawl, dripping with condescension. "You want me to fuck you like the needy little slut you are?"

A helpless whimper escaped your lips, your thighs parting instinctively at his words, betraying the desperation that throbbed through every inch of your body.

It was fucked, really—how easily he could lead you into this hazy, trance-like state with just a few words. In everyday life, you were lippy, hot-headed, the kind of person who would never let anyone walk all over you without a fight.

But with Jungkook? When he controlled you, when he degraded you, it never left you feeling small, not like other inferior men from your past who only managed to make you feel amused or bored.

With Jungkook, it was different. The way he commanded you, as twisted as it was, it made you feel seen. Wanted. Like you were exactly where you needed to be—in his hands, under his control. All you desired was to surrender completely, to let him take and take until there was nothing left.

Maybe you were biased, considering you loved the man currently smirking wickedly above you with every fiber of your being, but who cared? He owned you, and god, did you love every second of it.

Jungkook hummed, his fingers sliding through your wetness, gathering it slowly. You could hear the smirk in his voice. "So wet just from running that fucking mouth of yours, huh?"

Your breath hitched, every nerve firing as he lifted a hand to press lightly on the buckle resting on your back, the pressure sending a delicious ache radiating through you. You could already imagine the sting it would leave, the thought alone making you drip.

Then, his hand trailed back down your side, leaving the belt untouched and useless on your back. You bit back a disappointed grunt.

"All leaky and achy just from imagining Heejin-ah with my cock in her mouth, baby?" His taunt was biting, and you couldn’t stop the irritated noise that bubbled from your throat. He deliberately added the friendly honorific to get a rise out of you. And it worked.

"Oh?" Jungkook's laughter was filled with malice as he lightly traced his thumb over your folds for the briefest of seconds, not enough to satisfy, not even close.

"You don’t like it when I talk about other girls having me like you have me, huh? Not so fun is it, baby?"

His thumb brushed against your clit, fleeting, fast, gone before you could even register the sensation. Your hips bucked, chasing after the contact you craved, but he was already pulling away.

"Funny that," he mused before his tone turned menacingly low. "Because you sure as hell like talking about that boring fucking cuck a bit too much for my liking."

With the last remnants of your composure, you opened your mouth, ready to fire back one last bratty comment. Maybe the lord was on your side, though, because before you could get a word out, Jungkook cut you off.

"Color."

The retort died on your tongue, and before you even processed it, the response was out.

"Bright fucking green."

Jungkook’s mouth came down hot and harsh, his evil tongue licking a fat stripe right down your soaking slit. He took one of your ass cheeks in each hand, parting them effortlessly. You felt more than heard the deep inhale and exhale over your cunt as he dipped his nose into it like a dog would do to their water bowl on a hot fucking day.

Your breathing turned erratic, and your hands curled into fists to stop yourself from grabbing his head and forcing him deeper into your pussy. The way his tongue moved so deliberately, so lazily, only heightened the tension coiling tight in your core. When he had his fill of dragging his nose up and down your slit, his mouth latched onto your clit, slurping it up like it was his last fucking meal.

Your back arched, a strangled moan ripping from your lips as your fingers clawed at your sheets, trying to clutch onto any last thread of sanity. The grip on your ass tightened, keeping you wide open as he went at you with a brutal pace. Your thighs trembled around his head, your hole fluttering at the pleasure he was delivering to your clit. He was relentless, taking out all his anger and frustration on your poor little pussy.

Your cunt couldn’t keep up with him. It was dripping, soaking your boyfriend's face faster than he could lap it up, coating his chin and dripping down to the sheets beneath you. He groaned into your pussy, a low, dirty sound that vibrated right through your core.

"Ah! Fuck baby," you sobbed, burying your face further into the mattress. "Ngh-fuckkk!"

He didn't stop, tongue noisily sucking and flicking at your clit. Then his hand lifted and came down hard on your right ass cheek, the sharp slap sending a jolt straight through you. It ripped a moan from your throat and you forced yourself not to ask for another one.

"Not my name right now," he pulled back enough to scoff.

Before you could respond, Jungkook’s hands were already on you, shifting your body until you were holding yourself up on your hands and knees, your weight settled into doggy position.

He let out a low hum in approval before wasting no time and burying his mouth back into your heat, tongue sliding up and down viciously through your sopping folds.

“Ah-uhhh! Yes, daddy, oh my godddd,” you cried out, your eyes rolling back, hips bucking as his nose pressed deeper into your pussy.

He moaned into you, the vibration rippling through you as his tongue trailed slowly toward the entrance of your weepy hole.

Your evil fucking boyfriend hovered there for a moment, pretending to tease the tight muscle before his lips gave a big, harsh suck. The sound echoed in your ears as he slurped up as much of your slick as he could, coating his tongue before shoving it right into your clenching hole.

“Ah!” Your scream tore raw from your throat, your nails digging sorely into the mattress. His free hand slid up your body, four fingers pressing into the top of your ass cheeks, gripping you with possessive strength, while his thumb found your swollen clit, rubbing it in big, messy circles.

"Daddy -ah! Oh my fuckkk yes, eat your fucking pussy daddy, goddd."

Jungkook groaned lowly into you, eyes fluttering closed as he relished in the taste of the sweetest pussy he's ever had and will ever have in his life. He was manic as he drank from it, slurped at it, rubbed it all over his dirty fucking face. The wet sounds of his tongue pistoning into your hole, his finger sliding over your soppy clit, your fucked-out whimpers while you screamed for your Daddy.

Music to his fucking ears.

Your legs shook, elbows digging into the mattress as you forced yourself to keep form. If it weren't for your boyfriend's firm hand pressed against your stomach, holding you up, you both know you'd be face down on the mattress again.

Jungkook felt the tension in your belly beneath his palm and he knew you were getting close. He let you writhe for a few more seconds before slowing his movements, slipping his tongue from your hole and pressing a kiss to the pretty, puffed outer lips. He gave a wet suckle to your pebbled clit on his way out and finally pulled back with a loud smacking sound.

As much as the whiny cry you let out when he pulled away made his already aching cock throb harder in his briefs, he needed both hands for what he was about to do to you. And you knew it.

His bunny teeth poked out to graze against your inner left thigh, pussy-coated lips puckering to press a soft kiss over the ink that bore his name. Then, his hand pulled back and landed a quick smack on your right thigh, the light sting spreading instantly across your skin.

You understood immediately, a strained groan slipping from your lips as you rolled onto your back, head sinking into the pillow.

The belt buckle had been digging into your skin, so you quickly pulled it from beneath you, tossing it beside you on the bed. Your feet pressed into the mattress, knees bending as your legs spread open once more, leaving your glistening pussy on full display—just the way he taught you.

"Mm," Jungkook hummed approvingly, his eyes raking over your body with that look of dark satisfaction. His hand drifted to his cock, now uncomfortably hard, and gave it a rough palm through the fabric.

When his gaze paused at your chest, where his shirt had slipped back down to cover your breasts, you knew what to do. 

But you didn't want to take it off… it was your favorite.

Instead, you tugged the fabric higher, pulling it up over your tits, shuddering as the material grazed over your sensitive nipples. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips before you bit down lightly on the hem, holding it in place between your teeth.

Jungkook let out a low, dirty groan, his fingers trailing up your thighs, giving the soft flesh a possessive squeeze. "Good girl, baby."

"Thank you, daddy," you keened at the praise, though your response came out muffled with the shirt wedged between your teeth.

You gave a little impatient wiggle of your hips, feeling the mixture of slick and saliva begin to drip out of your pussy the longer it was left unattended.

Jungkook's eyes hooded at the sight, watching as a glob of his spit dripped down from your pussy and disappeared right between your crack. He swallowed hard, hands itching to spread the fat cheeks and watch the liquid pool around your tight, puckered hole. He'd grab your phone and make you bring up Park Hyungwon's contact, force you to Facetime the pathetic fuck, and make him watch as he let more of his spit trail from his mouth right over your greedy ass. Then he'd use his big tongue to shove it deeper and deeper into your winking little hole .

Of course, the Hyungwon part was purely theoretical because you no longer had his number or any contact with that cunt anymore. Jungkook saw to that three days into your relationship. But the other parts—

"Daddy?"

His gaze slowly drifted up to your pretty face when your muffled voice broke him from his thoughts. "Yes, my baby?"

"Wha's da bel' for?" you mumbled, your speech slurred by the fabric of his shirt still caught between your teeth.

Jungkook’s tongue swiped over his bottom lip, eyes darkening at the sight of you struggling to speak, and he wasn’t surprised when his cock twitched in response, pressing harder against his stomach.

He glanced at the belt lying next to you. “Was gonna punish you, angel,” he admitted softly.

His hand trailed down, freeing his throbbing shaft from its restraints and kicking the briefs aside. The (non-sexual related) clean freak in him made a mental note to tidy up later.

Climbing onto the bed, he settled between your legs, his weight pressing down on you as his chest melded into your soft, warm skin. A quiet, content sigh slipped from his lips as he let himself sink into you.

“But 'm still very sorry about earlier,” he murmured, his words a gentle apology as his hand brushed along your side, his nose nuzzling against your boob. “And I wanna be a little gentler with you tonight. Is that okay?”

A warmth swirled in your stomach, sending soft flutters through your body. Your hand lifted to thread through his silky, messy hair, your nails grazing his scalp just the way he loved.

“Of cour-kkhm,” His eyes flicked up to meet yours from where his head rested on your chest, and with a bunny smile, his fingers carefully tugged his shirt from your mouth, freeing your lips so you could speak more clearly.

Leaning down, you pressed a gentle kiss to his tattooed fingers, feeling his warmth seep into your skin. “You can have me any way you want, baby,” you whispered softly, your words full of affection. “You know that.”

“Never getting rid of me, you know that, right?” he murmured against the soft skin of your sideboob, his lips puckering to suck a delicate mark into the flesh.

“Would never try,” you sighed, your hand trailing down to rest on his warm, solid back as he licked tenderly over the mark he’d left. “Would fucking castrate you if you even tried to leave me.”

A low, deep laugh rumbled through his chest, vibrating against your body as he shifted up, his naked form pressing closer until his mouth found its place in the crook of your neck. He mumbled softly, a smirk tugging at his lips, “Would let you.”

You giggled, your head tilting to meet your other half. “Slut,” you mumbled sweetly before connecting your mouth with his. Your lips moved together in perfect sync, tongues lazily lapping against each other, unrushed and full of love.

The taste of you in his mouth had you clenching around nothing as the memory of his filthy tongue buried between your thighs minutes ago resurfaced. Your hips rocked up lightly, exhaling through your nose when the tip of his cock just barely brushed against your sticky clit, the sound loud in contrast to the soft click of your tongues.

Jungkook was no less affected, groaning into your mouth as his fingers tightened around the sides of your waist. His hips shifted down so the full length of his shaft could slip between your slick folds, and he reveled in the loud, squishy noise of your heat enveloping him as he slid back and forth.

“Mmmmhh,” you broke away from his mouth with a sigh of relief, your head lolling back as your body ignited at the feeling of his cock finally returning home. He didn’t make a move to push inside just yet, continuing his deep thrusts, coating his length and balls in your slick as he rutted back and forth. "Shit, baby."

Jungkook’s groan was strained as his hand trailed from your side, slipping between the two of you without moving his head. He reluctantly pulled his cock from your slick folds before two of his fingers were there to replace it, sinking into your heat without hesitation.

"F-fuck," you choked, your chest heaving at the sudden stretch, your body reacting instantly to the familiar intrusion. It was the first time something stiff had been inside you all night, and the relief was overwhelming.

Jungkook groaned low in your ear, letting you adjust for a second before his hunger took over. He pushed his fingers in deeper into your hole, sinking them in fully until his palm slapped loudly against your clit. Then he pulled them out and drove them back in, harder.

"Oh god, b-baby, shitttt." Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, jaw slacking when his long fingers easily reached that spongey part deep inside of you.

He nuzzled into your neck, his lips brushing the hot skin there as his fingers continued their relentless pace, a soft groan escaping his throat. The way your walls squeezed tightly around his fingers like you didn't want him to pull out, the loud sqsch-sqsch-sqsch of your pussy echoing in his ears as he thrusted his hand in and out of your dirty little hole.

God, he was going to cum untouched like a fucking teenager.

“Need to put it in, please, baby,” he begged softly, voice strained with need, his breath hot against your neck. “Need you."

Your hand cupped his face, fingers brushing lightly over his jawline as your eyes fluttered shut. “Take it,” you mewled, breath catching as his fingers slowed. His hips shifted back over you, his heavy balls pressed snugly against your clit. “Take it all, baby. It’s yours.”

Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice. He withdrew his fingers, his wet hand wrapping around his throbbing cock. He exhaled into your neck before slipping back into your folds and you choked out a loud sigh of relief as he finally began to fill you up.

“Shittttt,” he slurred against your neck, his forehead pressing into your jaw as he sank all the way in until his hips were flush with yours. “God, baby... so fucking good.”

His body stayed pressed against yours, his chest melting into your own, every inch of his skin needing to feel yours. His lips ghosted over your collarbone, up your neck, and to your jawline, pressing gentle kisses as he moved inside you with deep, unhurried thrusts.

“Fuck, baby,” you whimpered, your hands sliding up his back, pulling him impossibly closer. You buried your face into his neck, the scent of Bvlgari and tobacco making your head spin. It was so good. So fucking him.

The warmth of his heavy body on top of you made you feel so safe, so completely his. It fueled the burning ache in your stomach, the pressure in your core building with each deep stroke.

Your brows furrowed, overwhelmed, and your eyes pooled with tears, both from pleasure and emotion. "God, I love you so much, Jungkook. You make me feel so safe a-and loved," you choked out, voice trembling.

Jungkook’s hips stilled slightly, but you felt the way his cock twitched inside you at your words. He pulled his head back, looking down at your tear-streaked face, eyes softening.

"My baby," he mumbled softly, his clean(er) hand lifting to brush away your tears before leaning down to press soft kisses over your flushed skin.

"As long as I’m alive, nothing and nobody will ever hurt a hair on your pretty little head, Y/N." He kissed over the fresh tears, licking the salty liquid off his lips before placing a soft kiss onto your pouty lips. "Besides me, of course, when you ask me to."

A watery chuckle escaped your lips as he added, "I love you more than I love myself, baby. You're my world. I would kill for you," another kiss to the corner of your mouth before he cheekily added, "almost have."

You giggled, shaking your head and leaning up to press a grateful kiss against his lips. You followed it with another, longer one, brushing softly over the cool metal of his lip rings. "Can't wait to live with you, baby."

"Mmm," he groaned in satisfaction, his hips instinctively picking up their slow, deep rhythm at your words. "Yeah? Can’t wait to be trapped in my house, nowhere to run when you’re being a little brat?"

You laughed, breathy from the way he was rolling his hips into you. "Like I get far as it is? You just follow me like a dirty stalker."

His smile turned dark and playful as his thrusts became a little sharper. "Uh-huh, and you think that would stop when we sign some stupid joint tenancy papers?"

You couldn't help the way you clenched around him at that, big eyes blinking up at him in shock. "You're letting me sign the papers with you?"

Jungkook's brows furrowed as if confused. "Baby, it's our house; why wouldn’t you?"

A grunt rumbled from your throat as you pulled him down, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Jungkook groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding down to grip your hips tightly, his thrusts growing rougher in response to the bite.

The sounds that echoed around your bedroom were wet, needy, the slick squelching with every push and pull as he kept his pace, deep and steady. Your breaths mingled, his lips hovering over yours as he rocked into you.

Jungkook groaned lowly, his hips pressing harder, more urgent. “You feel so fucking good, baby,” he rasped, his lips pressing soft kisses along your jaw, up to your ear. “Give it to me every day, and it's still so wet and tight for me, fucking hellll.”

You keened at his praise, biting your lip harshly as his pace quickened. Your legs wrapped tighter around his waist, thighs squeezing as you pulled him deeper inside you until you were so close you were getting shoved into the headboard with each thrust.

“Ah, bab-uh! Right theree,” you whined, back arching as he hit that spot with precision, his thick head shoving against your g-spot like it was second nature. He knew your body inside out, and still, every time felt like a new fucking discovery.

Jungkook grunted lowly, his lips hovering by your ear as he thrust deeper, harder. “Right there, baby? That’s my spot, isn’t it? Feels so good when I fuck into it like that, huh?”

Your nails dug into his back as you whimpered, completely at his mercy. The slamming of the headboard against the wall was so loud but you couldn't care less. “Yes, yes, fuck, baby, that's yooourr fucking spot, uuh! Fucking take it, baby, godd!"

Jungkook groaned, his hips snapping faster, rougher, each thrust more desperate as he pounded into you. “I will,” he promised, possessiveness dripping from every word. “And you’re gonna give it to me, right, baby? Gonna beg me for it?”

“Please, baby, take it,” you cried out, your legs tightening around his waist. “Take it all, it’s yours. Just fucking take it.”

His hand gripped your hip hard, anchoring you in place as he slammed into you over and over again. He shifted you down a little so your head wasn't slamming into the headboard and his free hand slid down to rub over your slippery clit.

"Whose is it, huh? Who does this dirty fucking pussy belong to? Tell me.”

“You,” you sobbed, your body trembling beneath him, the pressure building in your core so quickly you could barely think. “It’s yours, baby. All y-yours.”

“Say my fucking name when you come,” he demanded, “and you’re gonna take everything I give you, right, baby? Greedy little pussy’s gonna suck up every drop of my fucking load. And you’re gonna hold it in there until I’m ready to turn you into a mama.”

You came so fucking hard.

It hit you all at once—your release crashing through you, your body shaking violently as a broken scream ripped from your throat, nails digging so deep into his skin you knew you’d leave marks.

“Jung—” your breath hitched in a sob “Jungkooookkkk!”

Your body arched into him, every wave of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you limp and trembling beneath him as he kept pounding into you, chasing his own release. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoed in your ears, barely drowning out the breathless thank yous tumbling from your lips.

“Good fucking girl,” he praised, his voice strained as his hips stuttered, his cock pulsing as he used you as a fleshlight.

“Gonna be the best daddy,” you cried, legs shaking as you let him abuse your whimpering cunt. “Can’t wait to have your fucking babies. Give you, uh, g-give you as many as you want daddy.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, head thrown back in bliss. “Yeah? Gonna keep popping out babies for daddy until he says you’re done? Gonna let me fuck you so full until it sticks... 'til your belly’s so big you can barely fucking walk, baby?”

You could hear the slick, wet sloshing noise every time he pulled out and slammed back into your pussy, and you swore it was the prettiest sound you’d ever heard.

“Yesss, daddyyy,” you cried out, voice high and desperate. “Please make me a mommy. P-please.”

“Nghhh, fuck!”

With one final deep thrust, he spilled into you, hot and thick, his body trembling as he filled you completely. Your name fell from his lips again as your greedy walls fluttered and clenched around him, eager to milk every last drop of cum from his cock.

But he didn’t stop.

Jungkook’s hips kept rolling into yours, adjusting for a moment at the sensitivity before he sped up, dragging his softening cock against that perfect spot inside you. His thumb was cruel, chasing your swollen clit even as it tried to hide from him.

It was too much, too intense, but you couldn’t stop the way your body reacted—back arching, nails back digging back into his big shoulders, a broken wail spilling from your lips.

“Fuck, baby,” you whimpered, head falling back as the overstimulation consumed you. “I c-can'tttt—”

“Another one," Jungkook growled, his lips brushing over your jaw, kissing you through every ragged breath. “C'mon, my love, you can do it. One more. One more, then you're done, baby.”

And just like that, it hit you—your second orgasm crashing through your body, leaving your toes curling and vision blurring. You cried out his name, your entire body shaking beneath him as he kept grinding, coaxing you through every wave of pleasure until you were trembling, thighs quivering around his waist.

“God, fuck!” you sobbed, clinging to him as the last of your release pulsed through you, squeezing his soft cock tight as he groaned into your neck. You were limp, shaking, but he stayed right there.

You both knew the chance of actually getting pregnant was very slim, thanks to the implant your arm, and you weren’t ready for that. You think.

But the breeding talk always turned you both the fuck on, and that 1% chance set something dangerous ablaze inside you. The risk, however small, just made it so much hotter.

You let out a content sigh as you crashed back to earth, shaky arms looping around his neck, pulling him down, craving the weight of his body on yours. Jungkook collapsed on top of you, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your skin, still buried inside you

“Did so good, my baby. Always so good for me,” he cooed, his voice low and soft, as his nose nuzzled gently against your skin, brushing over your collarbone.

A breathy giggle escaped your lips as your fingers threaded through his slightly damp hair. “Thought you said you wanted to be gentle tonight.”

Jungkook hummed lazily against your neck, his lips trailing over your skin with a soft chuckle. “That was gentle,” he murmured, sinking deeper into your warm skin.

You snorted softly, shaking your head. “You’re not wrong,” you replied, your chest still heaving slightly as your hand slid soothingly up and down his back. You felt him smile against your neck, his arms tightening around you, his cock still nestled deep, clearly in no rush to pull out anytime soon.

For a moment, it was peaceful—the sound of your mingled breaths the only noise in the room. Then, Jungkook lifted his head slightly, glancing at the soft glow of your Mac screen. His eyes caught the time, and he let out an annoyed groan, burying his face deeper into your skin.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” you asked, your fingers still threading through his hair as you glanced toward the screen yourself. Your heart dropped when you saw the time.

“You’ve got to be up in, like, three hours,” you mumbled, running your hand down his back, your feet sliding up and down the back of his thighs in an attempt to soothe him.

Jungkook’s body tensed slightly at the reminder, his lips still pressed to your neck. You could feel the irritation in his silence, and your heart sank at the thought of him leaving before you even woke up.

“I’ll make your lunch before I come into work at eight, baby,” you offered softly, your voice gentle as you tried to ease his frustration. “I can bring it up to y—”

“I’m not going,” he interrupted, his voice firm but soft against your skin.

Your heart stilled at his words, and you pulled back slightly, trying to see his face. “What do you mean, you’re not going?”

“I’m not going in tomorrow,” he repeated, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “And you’re not either. We’re staying right here until we both get some real sleep.”

You blinked in surprise. “But—”

“And then,” he cut you off again, his lips brushing yours as he spoke, “we’re gonna wake up, pack your shit, and move into our house.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. “Yeah?” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation.

Jungkook nodded, his lips curving into a soft smile as he leaned down to kiss you pouty lips, his hands brushing back your hair. “Told you, you can’t run from me anymore, baby.”

You grinned against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him deeply, your heart swelling with love.

“I love you so much, my dirty stalker,” you cooed against his mouth, your fingers drifting to trace over your name inked across his chest.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkled as his lips pressed softly against yours again, his body relaxing as he breathed you in. “I love you more, my crazy girl."

WOW what a ride!! let me know what you think?? love you 🖤

[nottswitch]

need us having a guy over and hooking up with him while sister’s bf!theo is there and he can hear. how would he react?

⋆౨ৎ sister’s bf!theo hears you fucking his bsf mattheo

nav // aus / sister’s bf!theo // more

well hi there. we’re fucking his bsf matty here, i hope you don’t mind 🤭 i’ve been waiting to write this for so long, and finally we’re getting to it, so buckle up !!

warnings: 18+ mdni, voyeurism, masturbating (m), implied unprotected p in v, implied creampie, hair pulling, cursing, mentions of cheating

the sound of music coming from of your room is pretty much a habit at this point. theo isn’t surprised when he hears a faint sound of some chase atlantic song, chuckling to himself – god, you’re annoying with this band, much like his best friend, who always puts them on when he’s on aux duty. theo places his spare keys on the small vanity at the door – he’s come to wait for your sister, who had to run some errands this afternoon.

but as he walks further into the apartment, planning to make himself some coffee in the kitchen, he has to stop and listen closer. the music is suddenly not the only thing he can hear. his eyebrows knit together as he starts to distinguish… moans? he’s never heard you moaning like that before, that freely and loudly. whenever you were with him, under his mouth and fingers, your sounds were always low, stifled, always under threat of being exposed. now… you were unashamed and loud as hell.

despite himself, theo starts walking in the direction of your room. he can’t help being drawn there, and he curses quietly as he feels his cock starting to harden in his jeans – you sound that good. however, as he closes in, he hears something else, something that makes his frown deepen significantly. another set of moans and groans, male. there’s no fucking way.

surprisingly, or not, the door to your room is cracked open. of course, theo is a weak, weak man, and he has to know, has to confirm his assumptions. as he peers into the crack, he nearly chokes on air. there, on your bed, you’re in a very delicious position, ass up face down, your hands fisting the sheets as a guy pounds into you from behind, his fingers firmly digging into your hips. and not just any guy – theo’s very best friend, mattheo.

fucking chase atlantic. should’ve been a dead giveaway.

theo feels a wave a pure jealousy wash over him as he watches his friend take you in a way that theo could only dream of. he’s gonna kill him, he thinks – mattheo is fully aware of everything going on between you and theo, and still, he decided go against every single variation of bro code in existence… he almost groans aloud, having to bite his bottom lip to silence himself. the scene in front on him has no business being this hot.

without really thinking, theo unzips his jeans and pulls them down along with his boxers, his hard cock eagerly springing out and already leaking at the tip. his hand closes around the base, his breathing turning shallow as he watches mattheo grab a fistful of your hair to pull your body up against his chest.

"you feel so fucking good, baby," he hears his friend growl into your ear, thrusting deeper and eliciting a sweet, high-pitched moan out of you. theo grits his teeth as his hand starts stroking his cock, the rage he feels towards mattheo mixing with his burning arousal. precum drips down his length, his fingers smearing it all over, and he has to be slower than he wants to be in order not to give himself away by the slick sounds of him jerking off.

"my mate is a fucking idiot, missing out on all this." mattheo’s words make theo’s free hand curl into a fist, the desire to punch his friend overridden only by the pleasure he’s feeling as he starts pumping his other hand faster. he knows mattheo is right – theo has been the one refusing to fuck you so far, because apparently that would be cheating on your sister, and him dry humping you into oblivion every chance he gets isn’t. but this realization doesn’t make it easier; it makes it harder, in more ways than one.

mattheo’s pace inside of you grows quicker, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room, and at this point, the entire apartment. theo’s lips part as he watches your body move along with his friend’s thrusts, your tits bouncing up and down and making his mouth go dry. his cock twitches in his hold, and he feels his orgasm inching closer and closer with every moan you let out.

"you close, baby?" he hears mattheo’s ragged whisper, and your frantic nod is almost all it takes to bring theo over the edge. he can’t believe himself – he’s jacking off to the sight of his best friend fucking you, and he’s about to witness you cum on his dick. no wonder you will, he’s seen mattheo’s dick himself, it’s a goddamn fuck machine…

when your whole body shakes, and your voice grows hoarse from the pleasured moan you let out at your orgasm, theo can’t hold himself back – he spills into his hand, bracing himself against the wall by leaning on his forearm. the sticky mess of his cum seeping through his fingers is a shameful reminder of what has just happened – he jerked himself off watching his best mate fuck you. god, was it really worth it? the post-nut clarity is strong, and it only gets worse when he witnesses mattheo not even thinking of pulling out when he cums. this fucking bastard…

theo decides for himself right that moment that he absolutely needs to fuck you, his pride be damned – not like he has much of it left anyway. and maybe punch mattheo a couple of times.

[niilue]

—when vi finally speaks, it’s not just her words you hear, but the weight of everything she’s too scared to lose.—

part i.

cw: female reader, vi x reader, angsty, jealousy, emotional hurt, hurt-comfort, vi’s emotional struggle, vulnerable vi, mention of caitvi's relationship, slow burn, spoilers s2. this is long writer's note: guys this is long!! i didn't even know how to do this part, i tried to make it as canon as possible to vi's character, and remember this is fiction, not hate <3-

vi didn’t move immediately after ou left. she stood there, in the middle of the alley, listening to the sound of your footsteps fading away and feeling like with each one, something inside her broke a little more. your words still echoed in her head, louder than any punch she had ever taken in the ring.

"why are you acting like this is personal?"

she had said those words reflexively, without thinking, in an attempt to protect herself. but now, as she remembered them, all she felt was a sharp pang of shame. she had seen the pain in your face when she said them, had felt the weight of your emotions and how your words had been filled with anger and something deeper, something vi couldn’t quite understand.

"why did it matter so much to her?"

it was the only question she could ask herself as she stood there, motionless. she had faced fights, betrayals, even death, but she had never dealt with something as confusing as this. she had never had to look at someone and realize she didn’t understand what they were feeling.

caitlyn approached, breaking the silence with a tone that seemed to carry more judgment than compassion.

“vi…”

“not now, cait,” vi replied automatically, with a harshness that wasn’t aimed at her, but at herself.

but caitlyn didn’t stop.

“vi, you have to let her go. it’s clear that this… whatever it is that’s going on between you two…”

“you don’t understand!” vi raised her voice, turning toward caitlyn. her eyes were red, full of frustration and something caitlyn hadn’t seen in her before: fear.

caitlyn raised her hands in surrender, but the damage was already done. vi felt the explosion of emotions inside her, a chaos of unanswered questions that pushed her to act, to move, even though she didn’t know where to go.

"why does she care so much?"

vi started walking aimlessly, her footsteps echoing in the empty streets of zaun while her mind raced. the image of your face, of your eyes full of tears and pain, wouldn’t leave her alone. you had said you were nothing, that you would never be anything, but even so, your words had been full of something more: broken hope, a love that seemed too strong to ignore.

"why does she look at me like that?" vi thought, clenching her fists. she wanted to hit something, wanted all that noise in her head to stop. but she couldn’t. your words were still there, like an echo that wouldn’t fade.

“i never asked her to stay,” she muttered to herself, her voice heavy with self-defense.

but as soon as she said it, she knew it was a lie.

vi stopped in a dark corner, leaning against the wall as her breathing turned erratic. the streets around her were empty, but inside her, everything was full of noise.

“she’s the one who decided to stay,” she whispered again, trying to convince herself. but she couldn’t.

every time she tried to come up with an excuse, your image came back to her mind: you, taking care of her on the days when she didn’t even want to get off the floor. you, following her steps even when she yelled at you to leave her alone. you, looking at her like there was still something in her worth saving.

"why did you do it? why do you care so much?"

vi closed her eyes, her hands trembling as she tried to recall every word you had said. you had mentioned the darkest moments, the days when she punished herself in the ring, the days when alcohol was her only companion.

you had said you were there. that you had always been there.

vi felt something inside her break. you had been there, yes, but she had never seen it that way. she had never allowed those things to matter because… because if she did, she would have to face something she wasn’t ready to feel.

"why did you do it?" she murmured, as if speaking to you, though you weren’t there to hear her.

the answer came slowly, like a current breaking through the chaos in her mind. you hadn’t done it for her. you had done it because it was what you felt. because you wanted to save her, even when she didn’t want to save herself.

"you took it personally because it was always personal."

vi felt the air leave her lungs. it wasn’t just that you cared. it was that you had always seen something in her that she couldn’t see in herself. and now that she finally understood, now that the pieces were falling into place, you were gone.

she closed her eyes tightly, letting her head fall back against the wall. tears began to stream down her cheeks, hot and silent. she didn’t try to stop them.

"i’m such a coward."

that was the only conclusion she could come to. you had been there, enduring her worst, taking care of her when no one else would, and she had ignored it all. and when you had finally laid your feelings bare, when you had exposed the full weight of what it meant to love her, vi had responded with doubt, with silence, with words she now knew she should never have said.

"why are you acting like this is personal?"

because it had always been personal.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

vi turned the corner into the alley and saw you. you were sitting on the ground, arms wrapped around your knees, with your hair falling over your face, hiding your eyes. she knew you’d been crying. she knew because she recognized that posture, that way of curling up when the pain consumes you and you don’t know how to keep going.

vi took a deep breath, forcing herself to take a step toward you. then another. and another. her boots echoed softly against the damp ground of the alley, but you didn’t lift your head. not until she finally spoke, her voice low and tense:

“i’m here.”

those two words made you lift your head, though slowly, as if every muscle in your body weighed too much. your eyes, swollen and red, met vi’s, and she felt something inside her crack at the sight of all the pain she’d caused.

“why?” you asked, your voice broken but sharp enough to cut deeper than any shout.

vi swallowed hard, looking at the ground before forcing herself to meet your gaze again. her hands trembled at her sides as she tried to find the right words. but there weren’t any.

“i can’t leave you like this,” she admitted at last, her tone so low it was almost a whisper.

you laughed, but it was a bitter, joyless laugh. “you couldn’t leave me like this? that didn’t seem to matter when you let me spill everything i was feeling, and you didn’t do anything.”

vi pressed her lips together. she couldn’t defend herself from that because it was true. she had left you alone, not because she didn’t care, but because she didn’t know what to do with what she felt. because she was afraid.

“i didn’t know how to react,” she confessed, her voice still tense. she took another step toward you, though you didn’t move. “i don’t know how to handle this… how to handle you.”

your brows furrowed, your eyes shining with a mix of disbelief and anger. “and what does that even mean, vi? what the hell does that mean?”

vi took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she ran them through her hair, tugging at the short strands as if that would help her think.

“it means i care about you,” she finally said, and though her voice was low, every word came out with an intensity that seemed to fill the entire alley. “it means you matter to me more than i know how to handle.”

the weight of her words hung in the air between you, and vi lifted her gaze to yours, searching for some sign that it wasn’t too late. but there was no response on your face, only a mix of emotions she couldn’t decipher.

“if i really mattered to you, you wouldn’t have done this,” you said, and your words were like a direct blow to her chest.

vi clenched her fists, but she didn’t look away. she knew you were right. but that didn’t make it any easier to face.

“it’s not that simple,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to hold herself together. “not after what happened with caitlyn.”

the mention of her name made your expression harden, and vi noticed.

“what does she have to do with this?” you asked, though you knew the answer might not be what you wanted to hear.

vi closed her eyes for a moment, letting the weight of the truth hit her before forcing herself to speak. “cait… made me believe i could trust someone again. that i could be more than a broken fighter.”

your chest tightened at her words, but you didn’t interrupt.

“and then, when things got bad, she left. she hit me, insinuated i was a monster, and walked away,” she continued, her voice cracking slightly at the end. her eyes filled with something you hadn’t seen in her before: fear. pure, absolute fear. “it wasn’t just what she said or did. it was… that she made me think something i’d never believed was possible. and then she took it away.”

vi’s shoulders slumped as she exhaled, as if she’d been holding her breath for too long. “i don’t know if i can trust someone like that again. i don’t know if i can let myself feel that again.”

her words fell over you like a weight, but you didn’t let your expression change.

“then why are you here?” you asked, your voice filled with pain and defiance. “if you can’t trust anyone, why do you keep coming back to me?”

vi lifted her head quickly, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. she took another step toward you, this time lifting a trembling hand, though she didn’t touch you.

“because it’s different with you,” she said, and though her voice was quiet, there was something in her tone that made it sound louder than any shout. “because you saw me when no one else did. because when i wanted to destroy myself, you wouldn’t let me.”

vi lowered her hand slowly, her shoulders sagging as her voice softened even more. “but you scare me too. because with you, i can’t pretend. and i don’t know if i’m ready for that.”

the silence that followed was deafening. you could see the internal struggle in her gaze, the way she was caught between wanting to move forward and the fear that kept her anchored to the past.

finally, you let out a shaky sigh, turning your eyes away. “then i don’t know what you want from me, vi.”

vi pressed her lips together, her eyes filled with something that looked like a silent plea. “i want to try. even if i don’t know how.”

your chest ached as you listened to her, but you couldn’t just give in. not after what you’d seen, after what you’d felt hearing her call her “cupcake” as if nothing you had done for her mattered.

“this doesn’t erase what you did, vi,” you said, your voice low but firm, trembling under the weight of the emotions you had tried so hard to hold back. “it doesn’t change how i felt when i saw you call her that, like… like i didn’t mean anything to you.”

vi blinked, her face contorting into a pained expression. her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but you raised a hand, stopping her before she could start.

“you don’t get it, do you?” you continued, your words laced with restrained anger. “it’s not just the nickname. it’s what it represents. it’s how it makes me feel, like everything i did for you wasn’t enough.”

vi opened her mouth, but her voice broke before any words could come out. finally, she took a deep breath, forcing herself to respond. “i didn’t mean for you to take it that way. it wasn’t because you don’t matter to me.”

“and how am i not supposed to take it that way, vi?” you shot back, taking a step closer to her, letting the intensity of your words fill the space between you. “you always say you don’t know how to handle this, but it seems so easy with her.”

vi shook her head quickly, her eyes filled with something that looked like panic. “it’s not easy with caitlyn. it never was.”

the mention of her name made your teeth clench, but you forced yourself to let her continue.

“with her it’s… it’s different,” vi admitted, her words clumsy but honest. “cait was always… what i thought i needed. someone who made me feel like i could be more than what i am. but with you…”

she trailed off, her gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before meeting yours again.

“with you, i feel exposed. and that scares me because i don’t know if i’m made for something like this.”

you stood in silence, your breathing shaky as you processed her words. the anger burning in your chest still lingered, but there was something in her tone, in the way her hands trembled at her sides, that made your defenses start to crack.

“that doesn’t make it hurt any less, vi,” you finally murmured, your eyes shining with tears you refused to let fall. “but at least now i know why.”

vi nodded slowly, swallowing hard as if admitting all of this had drained every ounce of energy she had. she took another step toward you, her voice lowering even more.

“i want you to trust me. i know i don’t deserve it yet, but i want to try. i want this to mean something.”

for a moment, the weight of her words filled the space between you. it wasn’t a perfect promise. it wasn’t an immediate solution. but it was something.

you took a deep breath, looking away for a moment before locking your gaze back onto hers. “then show me, vi. because if you ever make me feel like i’m not enough again… i won’t stay.”

vi nodded again, more slowly this time, and though her eyes still held uncertainty, there was something new in them: determination.

you didn’t say anything else. you turned toward the alley’s exit, your footsteps echoing softly against the ground as you walked away. vi didn’t stop you this time, but she didn’t take her eyes off you until you disappeared into the darkness.

she stayed there, motionless, her chest tight and the words she wanted to say stuck in her throat. she knew that this time, words wouldn’t be enough. she knew she would have to show you that you could trust her.

for the first time in a long time, vi felt like she had something to fight for.

[catcze]

#MULTI — The excuse he uses to hold your hand wc: 0.7 fluff, teasing, established relationship, hand holding !! — How's he gonna get out of this one?

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

It catches you by surprise— where you had both just been walking along, enjoying the atmosphere, the touch of his fingers weaving between yours is something you hadn't been expecting.

It wasn't unwelcome, though. Far from it.

The tangent you had been rambling on about trails away like leaves in the wind as you blink down at the hand that gasps yours securely. Beside you, he carries on as if there were no such change, even having the gall to raise his eyebrow when he notices you falling silent.

"You were saying?" he asks, as if to prompt you back into your ramble, but you practically bulldoze over his faux nonchalance by squeezing his hand and waving it between you two.

"Oh, look at you, being so forward," you tease, swinging your hands back and forth. "I'm not at all complaining, but, well, I didn't think you'd be so bold."

He huffs at you a bit, eyes narrowed in an expression that you'd dare say is petulant. Maybe even flustered. The first thing out of his mouth is—

"It looked like you wanted to hold hands. I'm just saving you the trouble of asking." He says, gaze not meeting your own, but hand still firmly holding yours. You have to fight back an amused smile.

When you teasingly try to let your hand slip out from his, relaxing your grip, his own immediately tightens. His narrowed, accusatory gaze snaps to yours so fast that for a second you worry he might injure his neck.

"Uh huh, you keep telling yourself that," you tease, sidling up close enough that you can nudge him with your shoulder.

It's cute, you think, how he immediately leans closer to you when you come near. Like he's not even aware he does it, like his body just wants to be closer to you. When he realizes what happened, there's a moment where his eyes widen— then his gaze is trained on the path in front, decidedly not making eye contact. Cute, you think again.

"i like holding hands with you, you know" you tell him tenderly, quietly— a sweet secret just between the two of you. You squeeze his hand and, unhesitatingly, he squeezes back. "I wouldn't mind doing it more often."

And oh, he hopes you don't notice the heat to his cheeks, and the darkening of the tips to his ears. Hopes you don't notice the quirk to the edges of his lips that he just. can't. keep. down. Hopes you don't make out how damn pleased he sounds when he says, "If that's what you want," knowing that it's exactly what he wants, too.

— Scaramouche / Wanderer, Xiao, Cyno, Boothill, Dr. Ratio, Alhaitham

"Why? Am I not allowed to?" Comes his teasing response, making you roll your eyes.

"You know that's not what I meant," you grumble, playfully punching his arm, knowing that you did little to no actual damage. Still, he pretends to wince and rub the area you hit, grimacing.

"No need to get violent," he says, "You're hurting my feelings, love."

"You're awful," you tell him.

"And yet you've still yet to let go of my hand," he reminds you all-too-happily, raising said hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

At the gesture, a tingle runs up your spine and butterflies come to life in your stomach— you wonder if he can hear the frantic pulse in your wrist, if he can see the way you cover up how damn flustered you are with a scowl.

You hate hate hate the way he's turned the tables on you— how he's managed to turn what was supposed to be you teasing him into him turning you into a gooey mess yet again. And yet...

"Oh shut up and keep walking," you say in defeat, not able to look him in the eye. You might just combust on the spot if you do.

He sounds all too pleased as he lets your hands drop between you two, fingers still weaved together, swinging your joint hands easily to the breeze.

There's a smile to his voice when he says— "Whatever you say, beloved."

— Wriothesley, Jing Yuan, Argenti, Childe, Ayato, Kazuha, Lyney

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 5: What I Want

Summary: You begin your training with Ghost, but not everything goes as smoothly as you'd hoped. At least you're learning how to want things, and that it won't kill you if you ask for them.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader, some Ghost x Soap

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, oral sex, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, suggestive content, language, brief violence, reader has a breakdown

A/N: I know I was supposed to rest, but I couldn't help myself. I just had to get this one done. I was feeling it. We're finally getting into the good stuff here. Things will kind of pick up after this part, so I'm really looking forward for that.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

(Gif pulled from google)

You tug nervously at your sleeve, feeling exactly as you did when you had to sit in the director’s office at The Institute. Only, you never got in trouble there. You had never been summoned because you misbehaved. You made it a point not to get into trouble, avoiding it at all costs. 

You’ve been here just over a week and you’ve already messed up. 

Price is staring at you across his desk, leaning on his elbows as his blue eyes bore into you. You’re not staring at Price, you think. No, you’ve come face to face with The Captain. He’s angry, though you can’t be entirely sure. You’ve never seen him truly angry. You’re waiting on the reprimanding, the punishment, for him to tell you they’re sending you back because you’re too much trouble. 

“I want you to tell me exactly what happened.”

You flinch at his voice, half expecting him to start shouting but he sounds almost calm. There’s a strain to his voice, like he’s restraining himself. He’s doing it for your sake, you think. 

“Ghost and I were walking back from the mess when one of the alphas called out to me. He...he asked if I was going to go spread my legs for ‘that freak’ and he said he could offer me a better time.” You swallow thickly, Price’s shoulders tensing just slightly. “I don’t know what happened...I just suddenly felt so angry and it’s like I lost control of myself and I went up to him and he asked if I was gonna take him up on his offer and that he’d like to bend me over and stare at my sweet ass all night...and then I hit him, sir.” 

“Good.” 

You look up at Price in surprise at his answer, your eyes widening a bit. “S-sorry, sir?” 

“I have little tolerance for alphas that think it’s alright to speak crudely to omegas, especially those they were explicitly told to let be. You saved me a lot of paperwork today. Simon would have done a lot worse had you not gotten to him first.” He moves the papers on his desk aside, holding out his hand. “Let me see.” 

You stare at his hand for a moment before you realize he’s talking about your hand. You push your sleeve up, putting your hand in his. Your knuckles have swollen a bit and bruised, tender to the touch as he runs his thumb over them. 

“Simon told me you asked him to teach you to fight.” He says, closing his fingers around your hand. 

“Well, not so much fight, sir.” You say, staring at your hands. “Maybe just how to throw a decent punch.” 

“I’d say the one you threw today was at least half-decent. Corporal Allen is sporting quite the bruise on his face.” The corner of his lips lift in a smile. “You won’t have to worry about him anymore. He’ll be properly dealt with and they’ll all be receiving a lecture on proper base etiquette.” 

“So...am I in trouble, sir?” You ask, pulling your hand back slowly as he releases it. 

“No, you were simply defending yourself after Corporal Allen made a pass at you. Just don’t make it a habit of going around punching alphas.” He smiles. 

“I’ll try not to, sir.” You say, relieved that you weren’t about to get punished for your mistake. 

“Go on.” He nods towards the door. “I’m sure the boys are waiting for you.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, standing up from your chair, heading towards the door. 

Price leans back in his chair as the door closes, the sweet scent of caramel and strawberries still permeating his office. He breathes it in for a moment before pulling out his phone, scrolling through the contacts. 

“You’ll be delighted to hear our girl punched an alpha in the face today.” He says once the other line picks up. 

“She did what?” Laswell asks, genuine surprise in her tone. 

“One of the Corporals made a pass at her, and she left quite the bruise on his cheek. She’s turning into quite the spitfire.” 

“I told you she would fit right in. Underneath all that institute-taught BS there’s quite the personality. How is she settling in?” 

“She’s softening up to the betas already. Still a bit fidgety, but she’s found a way to get Simon to warm up to her.” 

“Oh? How so?” 

“She asked him to teach her to fight.” Price grins. 

Laswell chuckles. “I told you she’s smart. Just make sure he’s gentle with her.” 

“Don't worry, I reminded him to go easy on her. I think it will be good for both of them. Some forced proximity will be good for Simon and she’ll get to learn a few things that could be helpful.” 

“So long as she doesn’t go around trying to fight more alphas.” 

“She’s already promised not to. The Corporal got off easy. I can only imagine what Simon might have done to him.” 

“I’m glad to hear things are going well, John. I worry about her sometimes, but I know you boys will take good care of her.” 

“We’re doing our best.” 

“If you ever need anything, you know you can call.” 

“I know. I’ll keep you updated as her heat gets closer.” 

“Good. I’d hate to have to file that paperwork.” 

Price grimaces. “I know. I hope you don’t have to.” 

You’re tying your shoes as the knock sounds on the door. You’re not sure how they manage to do it, always seeming to catch you at the perfect moment. You’re glad Kate thought to get you some more active-wear type clothing, though perhaps she expected you’d be getting involved in their training or at least start a bit of your own once you arrived, just as she had thought to get you outdoorsy clothes too. 

You open the door, staring up at the hulking form of Ghost. 

“Come on.” He grunts, turning on his heel to walk down the hallway. 

You quickly close your door, hurrying after him. Not much has changed since your request for him to train you, though you didn’t really expect it to. Not at first, at least. You still have to prove yourself to him. Simply existing and getting involved in their lives would not be enough. 

He escorts you to the gym, a building you haven’t been in yet. There’s a few soldiers milling around, most of them in the weight room. There’s a pool across from the weight room, for more than just swimming, you think. Your father had talked about his own water survival training. You can only imagine the kind of water training they go through. 

Ghost leads you towards the back of the gym, unlocking a door near the exit. It’s set up not unlike a dojo, mats on the floor and punching bags and other training equipment along the walls. Ghost empties his pockets, setting his things on a bench before removing his sweatshirt. 

You can’t help but stare, only ever having seen him in long sleeves. His muscles bulge beneath his t-shirt, the first bit of skin revealed to you besides his neck, chin, and hands. Your eyes are drawn to his arms, taking in the sheer size of them. 

Tattoos. 

He has a sleeve of tattoos on his left arm. You have a desire to look at them closer, to trace each one but you wouldn’t dare. Not right now. You pull off your own sweatshirt, folding it and setting it on the bench, leaving you in just a t-shirt and your leggings. 

You fail in your attempt not to stare as he walks towards the center of the mat in his t-shirt and sweatpants, swallowing nervously. He turns to face you, motioning for you to approach with two of his fingers. Your face warms as you hurry onto the mat, coming to stand in front of him. 

“Let me see.” He says, holding out his hand. 

You stare at it for a moment before your brain catches up, and you put your right hand into his. You ignore the feeling of his fingers wrapping around your hand, lifting it so he can inspect your still bruised knuckles. 

“We’ll start with dodging.” He says, releasing your hand, taking a step back. “Let me see your stance.” 

You part your feet a little, bringing your fists up to your face. His shoulders shake in a quiet huff of a laugh as he stares at you. 

“You need to stagger your stance more.” He says, circling you. “Otherwise,” Hands push you from behind, and you nearly avoid face planting into the floor. “You’re too easy to knock over. The last thing you want is the fight to end up on the floor. You won’t be getting back up if you let your opponent overpower you that much. Again.” He motions to you. 

You set up your stance again, widening your feet just a bit. 

“Good.” He says, moving to stand in front of you. “These protect your face.” He says, hands wrapping around your wrists, raising your hands just a bit. “You get hit in the face...” 

“I won’t be getting back up.” You finish for him. 

You know most fights end up with both opponents on the ground. You’d watched your brothers wrestle and play fight enough to know that. You’re not here to learn how to win a fight, only how to protect yourself enough until you can find space to run. 

You barely have time to stumble back as his fist swings at you, nearly losing your footing. “Hey! You could warn me first.” 

“You think someone attacking you is going to warn you?” He asks. 

He has a point. 

“Use your legs.” He says as you set yourself up again. “Move side to side if you can instead of ducking under the punch, but if you have to, don’t let your eyes leave your opponent.” 

You see this punch coming, ducking to your right to avoid getting hit. 

“Good.” He says, repeating the motion with his left hand. “Stay focused.” 

You continue with the same motion a few times, already starting to feel a bit fatigued. Running is one thing, but strength is another. Most omegas aren’t naturally strong, nor are they inclined to increase their strength. That’s what alphas and their packs are for. It’s not unheard of, though, for omegas to increase their physical strength. Perhaps you’ll need to consider looking into doing that as well. 

Ghost takes a step back, letting you rest for a moment. You’re breathing heavily, though he’s hardly looking fatigued at all. He’s used to this, you remind yourself. He probably throws more punches in a day in the field than he’s thrown at you so far in 30 minutes. 

“Now, let’s make it a bit more realistic.” He says, a low rumble at the edge of his voice. 

A wave of scent hits you, your brain nearly short-circuiting. Fear pulses through you, ozone burning your nostrils. You stumble backwards, landing on your back on the mat. You’re breathing heavily, every cell in your body screaming at you to run or submit. 

“That’s...that’s n-not fair!” You say, your hands trembling from the adrenaline coursing through you. 

“Any alpha you fight is going to use every natural advantage they have over you.” Ghost says, stalking towards you. You can practically see it, the purebred alpha within him coming through. “You need to learn to protect yourself against them.” 

“That's...that’s not possible.” You say, the edge of a whine detectable in your tone. 

He kneels down over you, crowding into your space despite the souring of your scent. It doesn’t even seem to phase him as he forces you flat on your back, his hands coming to rest on either side of your head. You stare up at him, every fiber of your being screaming at you to bare your throat, submit, give in. 

Don’t back down. 

Don’t back down. 

You push past the fear, the instincts screaming at you as you drive your knee up into his stomach. He lets out a grunt but it doesn’t phase him, his hand wrapping around your leg, using his sheer strength to flip you onto your stomach under him. He presses against you, body folding over yours. You resist the urge, the instinct to press back into him, to be a good omega. 

“If an alpha gets you onto the floor...” He says, warm breath fanning your ear through his mask. “You won’t want to get back up.” 

His face presses against your neck as he inhales deeply before he pushes himself up, grabbing the back of your shirt and hauling you to your feet as well. You’re shaking, your heart thumping in your chest. Your head feels fuzzy, your brain buzzing a bit. Your omega is confused, poised to strike but she’s not sure against who. Ghost isn’t a threat, and you know that, but he had just proved how easily he could be. Any of them could be, with a simple scent change and their sheer strength. 

“Again.” He says, getting into a fighting stance. 

“You can’t expect me to fight after that.” You say, your voice breathless. 

“If you’re in a real fight, you won’t have much of a choice.” He says, the rumble still audible around his own voice. 

He’s right. If someone is attacking you, it’s likely going to be to kill, or to try and take you from them. Your omega shifts uncomfortably as you raise your shaking hands to guard your face. You continue to dodge punches, hitting the ground more and more as you continue to get tired. You’re going to be sore, still feeling your hike through the woods a bit. 

The door opens, giving you a moment to breathe. Soap enters, a grin on his face. 

“Ah, the wee lass is still breathin’.” He says, leaning against the wall. “Came tae make sure ye hadnae killed ‘er.” 

You can practically hear Ghost roll his eyes, his back turned to you as he says something to Soap. You can’t hear what it is, the ringing in your ears too loud. Your omega is still worked up, still poised to strike, more so now in your exhausted state. You push yourself off the floor, not having a moment to think things through before you’re throwing yourself at Ghost’s back. 

He turns before you hit him, catching you and flipping you onto your back on the mat. You hit hard, the breath forced from your lungs at the impact.

“Christ, Simon!” Soap shouts, hurrying to your side. “Ye tryin’ tae break her, ye numpty?” 

“Don’t do that again.” Ghost growls at you, stomping over to grab his things before leaving the room. 

“Easy, hen.” Soap soothes you as you gasp for air, his hand gently rubbing your shoulder. “Be over before ye know it.” 

Slowly the paralysis of your diaphragm begins to lessen, your stomach still aching but the air comes easier now. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to fight the tears. You’ve messed it up. One day and you’ve already done more damage than you would have had you not asked him to teach you to fight. 

“Don’ worry, hen. He’s just worked up, that's all.” Soap says, brushing a damp strand of hair from your forehead. 

“It’s his fault.” You murmur. 

“Maybe, but yer scent...surprised you didn’t notice, hen.” Soap wiggles his brows. 

Your face warms. You hadn’t noticed the uptick of muskiness in the room, the heady scent of arousal before now.

It’s not yours. 

“Me?” You ask, letting Soap help you into a seated position. 

Soap smirks. “It wasnae me that tented his breeks this time.” 

Your face warms even more, your body feeling like it might explode. 

“Come on, hen.” He says, slipping his hands under your arms to lift you to your feet. “There’s still time tae shower before breakfast.” 

“I can assume you know why you were called in here sooner than our normal weekly meeting time.” Dr. Keller says as you sit in her office. 

“Because I punched Corporal Allen.” You say with a wince. 

Dr. Keller nods. “Indeed. I just want to make sure you’re feeling alright, after that. Getting into an altercation with an alpha can be tough.” 

“I don’t think I’d call it an altercation.” You say quietly. 

“Maybe not,” She says, shuffling her papers. “But standing up to an alpha can be daunting.” 

“I wasn’t alone.” You shrug. “Ghost was there.” 

“I saw both yours and Lieutenant Riley’s account of what happened. I’m wondering, would you have confronted him if you were alone?” 

Her question makes you think for a moment. Would you have stopped? Would you have confronted him, much less punched him if you were alone, or even with one of the others? No, you likely would have ignored him and kept walking like you did with Gaz. You’d likely have gone straight to your room and cried a little out of embarrassment and disgust. 

“No, ma’am.” You say quietly. “I don’t think so.” 

Dr. Keller nods. “You’re aware of Lieutenant Riley’s status.” 

You nod, a frown pulling at your brows. How did she figure it out? “Yes, ma’am.” 

“I know because I have access to their medical records.” Dr. Keller says. “It’s required for statuses to be present in medical records since purebreds have to be treated differently, just as alphas, betas, and omegas have to be treated differently.” 

You do know that. You know that an injured alpha can get defensive if they feel cornered. You know omegas can die from stress if they’re not taken care of correctly. You know betas can get overwhelmed by large groups of injured people all in the same place without proper training to filter out the scents of agony and suffering. 

“I think you reacted to his scent.” Dr. Keller continues. “You mentioned feeling a sudden rush of uncontrollable anger. Do you remember smelling anything at that moment?” 

You nod. “Ozone.” 

She nods, the pieces beginning to come together in your own head. “I’m sure you’ve figured out how different purebred alpha’s are and how much more potent their scents are. Your own status makes you more susceptible to their scents and the changes in them. You were reacting to the change in his scent. Your omega sensed a threat, and took over for a moment to defend you. It’s a natural response in omegas towards those they see as protectors, or even packmates.” 

Your eyes widen a bit at her words. Ghost is technically your packmate. He’s an alpha in your pack, but you’ve never considered that you see him as anything but. He has defended you, and he had defended you not long before your altercation with Corporal Allen. Had your omega begun to cling to him out of a sheer need for protection after something like what happened in the mess? 

You would like Ghost to see you as more than just an omega in his pack, more than just Price’s omega. You know he’d never claim you, but you’d at least like to get onto friendly terms with him. Soap said it had taken proving himself before Ghost started to accept him. You’re hoping your time spent learning how to fight helps you prove yourself, that you’re not a threat or even a risk. That maybe you can be an acceptable omega for his pack. 

“Aside from this incident, how are you settling in? How are things going with your new pack?” 

“Fine, I guess.” You shrug, starting to pick at your sleeve again. “Ghost is teaching me to defend myself.”

“Oh? Does this have something to do with what happened with Corporal Allen? Or is there a different reason?” Dr. Keller asks. 

“I mean, partially that but also, Ghost, he’s...hard to get along with.” You grimace. “I know that in relationships, a good way to bond with people is to get into their hobbies so you have something in common. Ghost...ghost speaks in violence and I think it would help ease some of my fears if I can at least defend myself.” 

“I think this is a great idea. It allows for some bonding time between the two of you, and it can also be beneficial to ease your anxiety a bit. As long as you’re being careful and you don’t get hurt.” She says, giving you a pointed look. 

You think back to Ghost flipping you onto your back on the mat, narrowly missing getting hit, how he’d pinned you down using his own scent against you. “He’s being careful.” You say, clearing your throat. “Price would put him through the ringer if something happened. Even just as an accident.” 

“How are things going with Price?” She asks, writing something down. 

You shrug. “Fine. He involved me in some training this past weekend. We hiked out to a watchtower and the others tried to follow my scent. We got to spend some time together while we waited.” 

“Have you done much of that? Spending time together?” She asks. 

You shake your head. “Not really. He’s...busy. A lot.” 

“You should start making an effort to get to know him more.” Dr. Keller says. “It’ll make it easier once your heat hits if you’re familiar with him. Have you knelt for him yet?” 

You shake your head again, not wanting to answer out loud. 

“Why not?” She asks. 

“He still hasn’t asked me to.” You murmur. 

“Do you know why omegas kneel for their alphas?” She asks. 

You nod. “It’s good for our brains and bodies. It helps relax us and soothes our omega, makes it easier to process stressful events and can prevent stress related diseases later in life.” 

Dr. Keller nods. “Correct. It’s an important first step in building that bond between an alpha and an omega, when it’s done correctly.” 

Bad alphas can use kneeling to control omegas, put them in certain mindsets, make them more subservient. You know this, you’d heard stories from your fellow omegas after watching their parents. That’s not kneeling. You never had the heart to tell them it was so much worse. 

“Do you want to kneel for him?” She asks you. 

That word again. 

You do want to kneel for him. You’ve wanted to since this past Saturday in the watchtower. You’ve felt that urge, that drive to drop to your knees beside him and let yourself go, let him carry everything you’ve been feeling over the last week. 

You nod slowly, ripping one of the strings off your sleeve. You’re fighting the tears, fighting the emotions welling up inside you. You can feel them building, pushing against your stomach and your chest, threatening to burst right out of your skin and leave you nothing but an empty carcass. You’re breathing has picked up, shaking a bit as you inhale deeply. 

“Why haven’t you asked?” Dr. Keller asks, her brows furrowing as she stares at you. 

“I don’t know how!” The words tear from your lips, almost echoing as they bounce off the walls like projectiles. You haven’t so much as raised your voice in years, much less to a person of authority, but you can’t stop. The dam has been breached. “Everyone keeps asking me what I want, but I don’t know how to want!” Tears cascade down your cheeks, your breaths coming in sharp gasps. You cover your face with your hands, muffling your sobs. “I’m not supposed to want.” 

“Hey,” Dr. Keller’s voice is soft as she kneels in front of you, her hands trying to gently pry yours away from your face. “Who told you that?” 

“That’s what we’re taught!” You hiccup, letting her pull your hands from your face. The tears are still falling, lips trembling as you sob. “We’re supposed to be good omegas. Obedient and serve our alphas. We don’t want anything, we’re only supposed to give.” 

“Well that’s a load of bullshit if I’ve ever heard it.” 

Dr. Keller’s words shock you into reality, your sobs halting with a sharp inhale. You stare at her, the tears still spilling from your eyes. Your hands are closed into fists, your sore knuckles aching from the strain. 

“You’re an omega. It’s in your nature to want, to need. You can’t help your alpha if your own needs aren’t being met first. It’s okay to need things, to want things. Are there things you want?” 

“Softer blankets. Fluffier pillows. A nightlight. Something to put on my walls. Strawberry scented body wash. Some goddamn authentic Mexican food.” 

Dr. Keller chuckles lightly. “I can agree with you on that last one.” She squeezes your arms gently. “You’re allowed to ask for things. You’re not a soldier, and even they are allowed to have things of their own, comfort items, with them. It doesn’t have to be material things either that you ask for. I’m sure your pack would find a way to bend over backwards if you asked them.” 

She’s right. The book says omegas can hold great power over the members of their packs if they try. A mix of playing their instincts and the right behavior and temperament can have betas and alphas wrapped around your finger. The idea of having such control over four powerful men makes your head spin. 

“I want Soap to kiss me.” You blurt out, your face warming as you hastily wipe at your tears to hide. 

“Oh?” Dr. Keller’s eyebrows raise as she looks at you. “This is a new development.” 

“We...we almost did...a couple days ago.” You say, burying your face in your hands. “But I stopped it because I thought maybe Price...but then he said he didn’t care...” 

Dr. Keller gently wraps her hands around your wrists, lowering your hands. “It’s okay to want that, and it’s okay to want to kneel for Price. I bet he’d be delighted if you asked him. I bet he was waiting because he didn't think you were ready for it yet.”  

The calming beta scent washes over you, Dr. Keller projecting it to try and help you calm down. Your tears have stopped, your breathing starting to slow as the gentle almond scent goes straight to your brain. 

“I’d like us to still meet for our regularly scheduled appointment this week, but I’m giving you an assignment to complete between then and now.” Dr. Keller says. “I want you to ask one of the members of your pack for one thing that you want. You can pick what it is, and who you ask, but I want to hear about it when I see you later this week, understood?” 

You push back the nerves twisting in your stomach. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good.” She pushes herself up to stand. “You can stay here as long as you want. Just let me know when you’re ready to go back to the barracks. Take your time. You are my only patient.” 

She grabs the paperwork off the couch before moving to her desk. You watch her for a moment before letting your eyes wander. You wipe at your face, your cheeks feeling puffy from your tears. You’re glad she’s giving you time to relax. The last thing you needed was to run into a member of your pack like this. 

That’s not a conversation you want to have right now. 

You take deep breaths, letting the beta scent permeating the air calm you down. You sink down further into the chair, letting it surround you. It’s soft, the cushions pressing around you like a hug. You wonder how she managed to get it in the hard, “function-above-all” world of the military. You wonder how she got most things in her office, or maybe if she’d brought them with her. 

It was likely Kate’s doing, you think. The office space was made for an omega, set up to be as comforting as possible. Though, you don't doubt Dr. Keller would have argued her case for having these things fearlessly if she had to. 

You stay in her office for a while, listening to the clacking of her keyboard as the soothing beta scent washes over you. Your eyes are still burning a bit as you force yourself out of the chair, out of the soft comfort you could spend days wrapped in. 

“I’m ready to go now.” You say quietly. 

“Okay.” Dr. Keller says, finishing what she was typing before she stands, grabbing her keys. 

She locks the office behind you before you leave the medical center, pulling up your hood to protect you from the drizzling rain. You’re growing used to the perpetually grey skies and sudden rainstorms. 

Dr. Keller squeezes your arm gently as you stop at the door to the barracks. “Remember what I told you. I’ll see you in a few days, alright?” 

You nod. “Thank you.” 

She smiles softly. “You did good today. I am proud of you.” 

You slip into the door of the barracks as she makes her way back to the medical center, your shoes squeaking on the tile floors. You head back to your room, the silence in the barracks telling you they’re not back yet. 

You kick off your shoes, pulling your damp sweatshirt off as you sit on the edge of your bed. You stare at your ruined sleeve, the seam split to the edge of the cuff now. You got the sweatshirt from one of your fellow omegas at the institute, and you’ve worn it almost every day since. It’s turned a bit raggedy, and your picking at it hasn’t helped any. 

Ask for one thing that you want. 

It would be easy to ask for a new sweatshirt. You’re sure if you asked Gaz, he’d give you the one right off his back. Everything you can think to ask for, they’d have to buy. If you asked Soap, he’d likely commandeer the closest vehicle and drive straight to town and buy you one in every color, even if he didn’t have permission to. 

You could ask for something that’s not material. 

Warmth floods your face as you think about it. How would you even ask? You can’t just ask directly. You could, but you might die of embarrassment if anyone heard you. There’s nothing to really be embarrassed about, but you can’t help it. It’s a bold thing to ask for, and you’re not sure you’re feeling quite so bold today. 

You chew on your lip as the barrack door opens, their voices echoing down the hallway as they return from their morning training. They pass by your door, their own doors opening and closing. You get up, moving to stand in front of your own door, holding your breath. You could just step out, knock on his door and ask. He’s probably changing, though. You’d never get the words out if he thought it was one of the others and opened it half dressed. 

You have to do it, though, before you lose your nerve. If you don’t do it now, you’ll never do it and you’ll have to tell Dr. Keller that you failed. You’re allowed to want things. It’s your nature to want things. It’s human nature to want things. There’s nothing wrong with having needs and wants. 

You can want this. 

You repeat it over and over as you slowly open your door, letting it close behind you. You smell the air, finding the trail of his scent. It disappears down the hall and around the corner towards the rec room. Your legs feel shaky as you follow it, your stomach twisting anxiously. You can want this. It’s okay to want this. 

You turn the corner, finding him coming out of the rec room. He grins at you, eyes sparkling. 

You want this. 

“Hey, lass, was just lookin’ for ye. Are ye ready for lunch-” 

His words cut off as you grab his face, standing on your toes to press your lips against his. He makes a surprised sound against your lips, his body tensing. It’s quick, only a couple seconds before you’re releasing him, taking a big step back. Your eyes are wide with shock, almost as wide as his. His lips are parted in surprise still, his shoulders tensed. 

“Sorry.” You blurt out, your nerves only heightened. What if he hadn’t wanted it? “Sorry, I just...I wanted to do it and I wanted you to do it that day, but I’ve never had a real kiss before and I thought maybe Price would want to...but then he said he didn’t care-” 

Your words cut off as he grips your chin, lifting your face so you’re looking at him. The tension has melted from his shoulders, the surprise gone from his face. His eyes are soft as they stare down at you, his thumb brushing your lower lip. 

“I didnae know it was yer first kiss.” He says softly. “I wouldnae pushed it so far if I did.” 

“It wasn’t technically my first kiss, I kissed another omega at the institute but I don’t really count it cause I did it for her.” You shrug. “I’ve regretted pulling away since that day and Dr. Keller said I should start learning to want things and she gave me the assignment of asking for one thing that I want before I see her again at the end of the week and I could have just asked for something simple but-” 

Your words are cut off as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours again. It’s soft and sweet, his hand sliding from your chin to the back of your head, holding you against him. Your fingers grip his shirt, and you lift yourself onto your toes to press back against him as his lips move against yours. 

His forehead presses against yours as he pulls away, your breaths mingling as you continue to hold each other. “Gaz will be upset he missed out.” He says quietly, lips tugging up in a smile as he squeezes your waist. 

“He can kiss me later.” You say, pressing a quick kiss to his lips once more before pulling away. “After lunch.” 

Soap chuckles quietly, slipping his hand into yours. “After lunch.” 

You hesitate outside the door, shifting nervously on your feet. You could turn around and go back to bed, pretend like you hadn’t spent an hour convincing yourself to walk down here, like you haven’t been thinking about this all afternoon. You had already completed your assignment for the week. You’d kissed Soap, done something you wanted. You’ve fulfilled that desire, and it didn’t kill you. You hadn’t dropped dead afterward. If the others noticed, they didn’t say anything. 

This isn’t a want. 

You knock softly on the door, half tempted to turn and run and hide under your covers until you inevitably have to get up tomorrow. 

“Come in.” 

Your hand hesitates on the door handle for just a moment before you’re turning it, stepping into the office. He doesn’t look surprised to see you, though you suppose if nothing else, he had smelled you standing outside. The thought makes your cheeks warm in embarrassment. How long has he known you were standing out there? 

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?” He asks, setting down his pen. 

You shuffle nervously, clasping your hands in front of you. “I-I was wondering...I..um...” You take a deep breath. “I was wondering if I could kneel for you.” 

You bite your lip as he stares at you, the words having come out fast, almost meshing into one long string of nonsense. His eyes darken just a bit, his scent thickening in the air. 

“You want to kneel for me, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice low and rough. 

You nod, shifting your weight again. “Yes, sir.” 

“Grab a pillow.” He nods to the couch. “I won’t have you hurting yourself.” 

You grab one of the pillows from the couch, wondering how often he’s slept in his office. How many nights he’s spent awake, pouring over files, his mind working too hard for him to find any rest. You set the pillow on the floor before kneeling down next to him, facing his desk. You shift until you’re comfortable, sitting back on your feet. You let out a long breath as your eyes slipped closed, your fingers twitching anxiously in your lap. 

Price’s hand is gentle as it comes to rest on the top of your head. You relax into his touch as he strokes your hair, working his way down towards your neck. You force your mind to relax, easing away the desire to tense your shoulders, to draw them up around your ears. It’s pure natural instinct, one that will fade the more you practice, the more you bond with him. The more you trust him. 

“Ready?” He asks, his voice sounding far away despite the fact you’re right next to him. 

“Yes, sir.” You murmur, pressing your head into his hand. 

His hand slips lower, curling around the back of your neck. You inhale sharply as he finally makes contact with the sensitive area. His hand is warm, the tension slowly easing from your body as he presses his thumb lightly into the side of your neck. The back of your brain begins to buzz, your mind slowly filling with static. You relax even further, your head bowing just slightly as you feel the weight of the last three months lifting off your shoulders. 

All the emotions, all the fear, all the unknowns suddenly feel far away. All the apprehension and the anxiety are soothed to nothing as he holds you, the hand on your neck a firm reminder that you’re not alone in this anymore. You have an alpha now, a strong alpha that you can trust in, that will carry it all for you. 

You don’t need to be stressed or afraid anymore. A warmth begins blossoming within you, spreading from your core out to your fingers and toes. You feel a bit dazed, but not in a bad way. You’re not afraid of the feeling, not with your alpha’s hand around the back of your neck keeping you safe. 

You’re not sure how much time passes, how long you kneel there. It could be five minutes, it could be two hours. Price continues to go over his paperwork, his other hand steady on the back of your neck. It’s not until he’s done that he carefully pushes his seat back, kneeling on the floor next to you. He releases your neck, catching your body as it slumps over, drawing you against his chest. 

“Easy, sweet girl.” He murmurs, pressing your face into his neck. 

You’re shaking a bit, brain still dazed and flying as you breathe in his scent. Earthy, trees, petrichor. The warm muskiness of a content alpha. You made him smell like that. You invoked that scent. 

“Feeling alright?” He murmurs into your hair, gently stroking your side as you begin to come back into your body. 

You hum in affirmation, wrapping your arms around his neck. You haven’t been this close to him yet, not since the scenting and that was more of a formal closeness, a required closeness. This is because you want it. 

“Don’t let me go.” You murmur into his neck, clinging to him tightly. 

His arms tighten around you for a moment before he slips them under you, lifting you into his arms easily. He pushes himself from the floor, moving to sit on the couch with you on his lap. You let yourself go lax in his hold again, feeling calmer and more relaxed than you have in months. You feel safe in his arms, not that he would have let anything happen to you before. 

You’ve always been safe, you think as you let your eyes drift closed again. 

The water is hot as it runs down his back, contrasting the cool tile against his forehead. His eyes are closed, breaths slow and steady through his nose. He can’t get that damn scent of vanilla and sweet, sweet omega arousal out of his head. He drives his fist into the wall with a growl, cursing the blood rushing south. 

He can’t forget the way you felt under him, pinned so easily and helpless beneath him. He hates the way his cock twitches at the thought of the pout on your lips as he’d swung at you, narrowly missing you too many times. The way you tried to jump him. 

He lets out another frustrated growl, slamming his forehead into the tile. A hand presses against his bare back and he turns on his heel, hand wrapping around Johnny’s throat, slamming him back against the shower wall. 

Jesus Christ, he’s going to kill the mutt one of these days. 

“Easy, Lt.” Johnny rasps, not fazed at all by the alpha’s actions. His eyes flicker lower, to the hard cock standing at attention. “Bit worked up, eh?” 

He lets Johnny go with a growl, stepping back under the water, turning it all the way to the right until it’s nearly freezing. He almost groans in frustration as the water shuts off completely, his eyes cracking open as Johnny’s hand trails up his chest. 

“Easy, big guy. Let me help ye.” 

Simon moves until his back is pressed against the tiles, eyes not leaving Johnny’s sapphire ones as the beta slowly kneels in front of him. Johnny’s hands trace over his hips, outlining scars both old and new. Johnny’s fingers finally reach his cock, wrapping around the thick length. Simon sighs in quiet relief as Johnny slowly pumps his length, their gazes still locked. 

Simon stares down at Johnny through his blonde lashes as Johnny leans forward, dragging his tongue along his head. A low growl rumbles through his chest as the beta circles his tongue around his head, smearing precum on his chin. He’s painfully hard now, breaking his gaze as his head tilts back, eyes fluttering closed. 

His fingers sink into Johnny’s mohawk as the beta takes his cock in his mouth. He breathes through his nose, relaxing his throat as Simon’s cock sinks deeper and deeper, Johnny’s hands closing around his hips to hold himself steady. Simon grips his hair tightly as he begins to move, bobbing his head along his length, his tongue pressing against the bottom of his cock. 

Simon squeezes his eyes closed as an image comes to mind, a smaller hand fondling his balls. His hand wraps around the base of his cock as he imagines soft lips on his tip, Johnny’s tongue tracing the parts of him that you can’t fit yet as you take him in your mouth. The sweet whines that would be pulled from you as he choked you on his thick length, Johnny whispering sweet encouragements to you. 

He can picture the two of you, you and Johnny with your tongues entwined, his cum stringing between your lips. 

He growls, yanking Johnny off his cock and pinning him to the tile wall. Johnny’s lips are parted as he breathes heavily, eyes blown with lust as he stares up at his alpha. Simon’s hand tugs at his hair, tilting his head back to bear his throat. Johnny lets out a quiet moan as he sinks his teeth into the delicate skin, leaving a mark he’ll wear proudly for a few days. 

“Turn around and bend over.” He growls to the beta, his cock still hard and throbbing. 

“Sir, yes sir.” Johnny says, smirking wickedly as he slowly turns to face the wall. 

Fucking christ, Simon groans. They’re going to be the death of him. 

You’re going to be the death of him. 

NEXT ->

Taglist, part 1:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @hanellokey @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @ghostlythots @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @thychuvaluswife @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @bisky-business @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @cadotoast @linaangel @rancid-wasp @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @puppyel @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006

[thebarneschronicles]

Out of Depth, Into You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 8.3k

Synopsis: Bucky Barnes was supposed to get in and out. Simple. Clean. But Hydra had other plans.

An ambush leaves him broken, bleeding, and barely standing—and you’re the only thing keeping him upright. Trapped in a safehouse, patching him up with shaking hands, you realize the truth you’ve been avoiding: you almost lost him. And that scares you more than anything.

Because Bucky isn’t just your mission partner. He’s yours.

And maybe… just maybe, he’s known it all along.

Trigger Warnings: Violence (injuries, blood, broken bones, combat); Medical trauma (setting a broken bone, treating severe wounds); PTSD/trauma symptoms (flashbacks, avoidance, emotional suppression); Self-deprecation/self-worth issues (Bucky struggling with his identity and past); Smut (very little but still there !!!!)

Author’s Note: OOPS, I did it again. Idk, man, thoughts of being the one to save him for once were swirling and I had to do it again. Blame the hormones! Hope you like it and let me know what you think. B x

--

He should’ve been in and out. That was the plan.

But somewhere between Bucky taking out the first two guards and you directing him toward the extraction point, everything had gone to hell. You should’ve known he couldn’t, shouldn’t have gone in alone.

No matter how much time had passed, no matter how many missions he completed, Hydra never stopped hunting him. They never stopped wanting their soldier back, their weapon, their ghost of the past. Maybe they’d been waiting for an opportunity just like this—Bucky Barnes, alone in Eastern Europe, tracking down a Hydra splinter cell. Everything had been fine until it wasn’t.

And when Hydra saw their chance, they took it.

You had been following this lead together, him on the field, you in his ear, his eyes when he couldn’t see, his guide when things went south. But neither of you had expected the ambush. Too many hostiles. Too little time.

You heard it before you saw it. The grunts of effort, the dull crack of fists against flesh, the sickening crunch of bone breaking. Bullets ricocheted off vibranium in sharp, ringing bursts. Shouts filled your comms, angry orders in languages you didn’t recognize, and then—

Then you heard his hiss of pain. Short, sharp, barely contained. A sound that turned your blood to ice.

Bucky never let pain show.

Your hands flew over the keyboard, trying to pull up security feeds, but his voice cut through your panic, strained but calm. Too calm.

"I need an exit. Now."

Your heart stopped.

Bucky Barnes never walked away from a fight. He fought until there was no one left standing but him. If he was asking for an exit, it meant something was very, very wrong.

You yanked up the nearest camera feed and felt the world lurch beneath you.

There he was—cornered in a crumbling warehouse, backed against a stack of rusted shipping crates. He was holding his own, but barely. Blood dripped down his temple in sluggish trails. A bruise darkened his jaw, stark even in the grainy footage. But worst of all—his right arm, his flesh arm, was hanging limp at his side, twisted at an angle that wasn’t natural.

You gripped the edge of the desk so hard your knuckles ached.

Broken. His arm was broken.

And if his arm was that bad, you didn’t want to think about what other injuries he was forcing himself to fight through.

Your voice wavered, but you forced it to stay steady. "Bucky, there’s a service door to your left. Get there and I can guide you out."

"Copy," he gritted out, his breath heavy, strained.

He fought his way to the door, but you saw it—the way he staggered, the way every movement came at a cost. Every punch with his left arm rippled agony through his body. Every twist, every block, every moment that should have been second nature was suddenly a fight to stay upright.

And still, he kept going.

By the time he made it through the door, you were already running.

Darkened streets blurred past as you sprinted toward the extraction point. Your lungs burned, but it didn’t matter. You needed to get to him.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to come out unscathed, meet you at the car, and get out before things got messy.

There weren’t supposed to be this many Hydra agents.

There wasn’t supposed to be a fight.

Fear clawed at your throat.

You rounded the last corner and skidded to a stop.

Bucky.

Leaning heavily against a brick wall, half-shadowed beneath the flickering glow of a streetlamp. His chest rose and fell too fast, his breath ragged. His skin looked pale—too pale. Blood painted the side of his face, his fingers, his shirt. He lifted his head as you approached, his jaw clenched so tight you swore you could hear his teeth grinding.

Up close, he looked worse. So much worse.

And that—that terrified you.

You had seen him bleed before. Had heard his sharp, bitten-off curses through comms, had watched him shake off pain like it was nothing. But this was different.

This was Bucky barely standing.

This was his chest rising and falling too fast, his face too pale, his right arm twisted and useless at his side. This was blood—so much blood—seeping through his jacket, dripping from his fingers, staining the ground beneath him.

And you—you couldn’t breathe.

Your hands trembled as you reached for him, the rest of the world fading away. Nothing else existed except for the wreckage of him—broken, bleeding, and still standing.

You weren’t supposed to feel like this.

He was just your mission partner. Just the man in your ear, the one you guided through hell and back, the one who always came out on the other side. Just the Soldier.

Except he wasn’t.

He was Bucky.

Your Bucky.

You swallowed hard, shoving the rising panic back down where it belonged. You couldn’t afford to lose it. Not now.

Stepping into his space, you braced his good side, feeling the solid weight of him against you. And that’s when you realized—

He was leaning on you.

Bucky Barnes, who carried the weight of his past like an iron chain, was letting you carry him.

Your throat tightened.

"Hey, Soldier," you murmured, voice steadying through sheer force of will. Anything to drown out the fear clawing at your ribs. "Still with me?"

For a second, he didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at you.

Then—his lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk, like he wanted to make some cocky remark. But all that came out was a wince.

"Yeah," he rasped, voice rough, worn down to nothing. "Just having a great time."

Something in you cracked.

You exhaled sharply, fingers twisting in his jacket, clutching onto him like you could hold him together.

He was alive.

Battered, broken, bleeding out against you—but alive.

And you were going to keep him that way.

The drive to the safehouse was short, but agonizing.

The car felt too small, too silent, too full of blood and fear. Your hands clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles bone-white as you tried to keep your body from shaking apart. You had to stay focused. Had to keep breathing. Had to ignore the way Bucky’s breath, shallow and uneven, filled the space between you like a countdown.

Every bump in the road pulled a ragged sound from his throat, one he barely let slip past gritted teeth. His broken arm was cradled against his chest, his fingers twitching, blood soaking through the fabric of his jacket and seeping into the leather seats. Thick. Dark. Too much.

Don’t think about it.

You’d already gone through a mental list of everything you needed to do once you got him inside—stop the bleeding, set the bone, clean the wounds. All of it so completely out of your depth that panic pressed against your ribs, sharp and unforgiving.

The safehouse appeared through the trees, a dark shape buried deep in the woods. You yanked the car into park, twisting toward him before the engine had even died.

"Buck," you said, voice unsteady. "Buck?"

Nothing.

"Bucky, you still with me?"

For a second, nothing but silence—and then, finally, a low, pained grunt. A small nod. Barely anything, but it was enough to keep the panic from swallowing you whole. A grunt of acknowledgment that shouldn’t have felt like relief but did.

You swallowed hard and moved fast, yanking open his door, looping an arm around his waist as you pulled him up. He was heavy. Too heavy.

Getting him inside was its own battle.

Bucky Barnes was all muscle and solid weight, and even now—weaker than you had ever seen him, barely upright, barely conscious—he still outweighed you by too much. You nearly buckled under his weight, but he held onto you.

His full weight pressed against you, and for the first time since you’d known him, he didn’t try to carry himself. Didn’t try to tough it out, to stay standing on his own. Because he couldn’t.

Each step sent fresh bolts of pain through him, his teeth clenched so tight you swore you could hear the grind of enamel. He swayed dangerously, his blood leaving a trail in the grass, marking the path of his suffering.

Your heart slammed against your ribs as you tightened your grip around his waist.

"Almost there," you whispered, half to him, half to yourself. "Just a little further, Buck. Stay with me."

His only response was another sharp exhale through his nose—the sound of a man trying not to curse or scream.

By the time you dragged him over the threshold, kicking the door shut behind you, your entire body was trembling. The adrenaline that had kept you moving, kept you upright, was beginning to wear off, leaving only panic in its wake. Your breath came in short, uneven gasps as you struggled to keep him upright, his weight more than you could truly handle.

"Come on, Bucky, please, just a little longer," you begged, voice cracking as you guided him toward the worn-out chair near the fireplace. You barely managed to ease him down before your legs nearly gave out beneath you. "I need you to stay awake, honey."

The endearment slipped out without thought, but neither of you acknowledged it. His head lolled forward, strands of damp, sweat-soaked hair clinging to his forehead. His breath was a shallow rasp, chest barely rising and falling.

Logically, you knew he could heal. His body would knit itself back together, given enough time. But logic didn’t stop the knot of dread twisting inside you, didn’t chase away the fear choking you as you took in the state of him.

You had never seen him this bad.

His skin was pale—too pale. Sickly, almost. Sweat slicked his forehead, tracing tracks down the sharp angles of his cheekbones. The bruising along his temple was already deepening, a sickly shade of purple that stood out against his ashen skin. His left arm was an ugly mess—swollen, bent at a sickening angle. And then there was the gash along his ribs, jagged and deep, seeping blood at an alarming rate.

Your hands scrambled for the first-aid kit, tearing it open with fingers that wouldn’t stop trembling. "Okay," you said, forcing a steadying breath, forcing yourself to focus. "I need to set your arm."

Bucky exhaled slowly. His eyelids fluttered, his breathing labored. But when his gaze finally found yours, there was no fear. No hesitation.

Just quiet, unwavering trust.

A barely perceptible nod.

No complaints. No resistance. Just Bucky Barnes trusting you with his pain.

And somehow, that was worse.

Because Bucky Barnes never let anyone take care of him. He barely let people touch him, let alone see him like this—vulnerable, human. The weight of that trust settled deep in your chest, thick and heavy.

For a fleeting second, a dangerous thought slipped through the cracks of your resolve—what would it be like if he let you touch him in other ways? If his trust extended beyond battlefield necessity, beyond survival, into something more?

You swallowed hard and shoved the thought away. Now was not the time.

Shoving it down, you grabbed the shears from the kit and began cutting away his ruined jacket, peeling the blood-soaked fabric from his skin. His arm was an ugly mess—swollen, bruised, bent at an angle that made your stomach turn. But the deep gash across his ribs wasn’t much better, the bruising on his temple stark against his too-pale skin.

Your hands hovered over him for a moment. Hesitant. Terrified.

You can do this.He needs you.Your fingers pressed against his skin, searching for the break. He barely reacted.

Except—when you touched the worst of it.

His body tensed. A muscle in his jaw ticked. His metal hand curled into a fist against his thigh.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, throat tight. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—"

Then, before you could think too hard about it, before you could hesitate—you pushed the bone back into place.

The sound it made was sickening.

Bucky’s whole body locked up. His teeth clenched, every muscle in his body straining against the agony tearing through him.

Your stomach lurched. You wanted to take it back. Wanted to take it from him.

But then—it was done.

You looked up, searching for his eyes, needing to see that he was still with you.

But his eyes were shut, his lips a thin, bloodless line.

He hadn’t screamed.

Hadn’t even made a sound.

"Buck?"

Your voice was barely more than a whisper, but it felt like a scream in the suffocating silence of the safehouse. Your hands were slick with his blood, still shaking, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You didn't know how to make it stop.

"Bucky?"

Still no response. His head lolled slightly, his breath uneven, shallow. The dim light in the room cast long shadows over his face, accentuating the stark pallor of his skin, the gauntness in his features. He looked fragile, and that was something you never associated with Bucky Barnes.

Your fingers fumbled, pressing against his neck, searching for his pulse. Your mind screamed at you to calm down, to think logically. The serum would keep him alive. He wasn’t dying. He couldn’t be dying. But logic meant nothing when fear had its claws in you.

Too fast. But steady.

He was alive. He was going to stay alive.

A sob clawed its way up your throat, thick and suffocating, but you swallowed it down. No time for that. You had to focus. He needed you.

You forced your trembling hands to work, pressing gauze against the deep gash in his side, trying to stem the flow of blood. The fabric soaked through instantly, a deep crimson blooming across the sterile white.

"Come on, Buck," you murmured, voice barely holding steady. "The serum needs to kick in. Just let it work, okay?"

Your fingers traced the edges of the wound, breath hitching at the heat radiating from his fevered skin. The cut was deep—too deep—but not fatal. It had to be something sharp, something deliberate. The thought made your stomach twist. Whoever had done this had meant to hurt him, had meant to make him suffer.

You pressed down harder, desperate to keep the bleeding in check. He let out a low, pained groan, his body tensing beneath your touch. Your heart clenched.

"Did I make it worse?" Your voice cracked. "Am I hurting you more? Please, Buck, you gotta tell me something, anything..."

Silence stretched between you, thick and unbearable. His chest rose and fell in slow, shallow movements. The hum of the wind outside filled the void. Your hands, stained with his blood, trembled against him.

Then—

A rough, barely-there sound. A groan, deep and strained.

His throat bobbed as his lashes fluttered. His brows drew together, his lips parting as he struggled to pull in a breath.

And then, so quietly you almost missed it—

"Nah."

Your heart stuttered.

His voice, though raw and wrecked, was unmistakable. Relief crashed over you like a tidal wave, so overwhelming it nearly knocked the air from your lungs. You reached up, pressing his sweaty hair back and away from his forehead.

His head shifted slightly, his fevered skin pressing into the palm of your hand. His breathing hitched as another wave of pain rolled through him, but he forced his eyes open just enough to look at you.

Blue. So damn blue.

And looking right at you.

"It’s not—" He swallowed thickly. "Not your fault," he rasped. His lips twitched, like he was trying for a smile, but it barely formed before fading. "I'm still in one piece."

A breathy, choked laugh escaped you, completely unbidden. God, how could he joke right now?

Your fingers curled against his jaw, your grip grounding both of you. "Barely," you whispered. "You’re a mess, Bucky."

A slow, uneven exhale left him. "Wouldn’t be the first time."

Your throat tightened. Even now, bleeding out, clinging to consciousness by a thread, he was trying to reassure you. Trying to make it easier.

"Is there anything else I can do?" you asked, voice small, desperate. "To make the serum work faster? God, why isn't it working, Bucky?"

He let out a slow breath, his fingers twitching against his thigh. His lips parted, but it took him a moment to form words.

"Takes... time," he murmured, voice slurred with exhaustion. "Always does. Just gotta... wait."

Wait. The thought was unbearable. Sitting here, helpless, while he fought to heal—it felt like torture.

Your fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw, the stubble rough against your skin. He blinked sluggishly, exhaustion tugging at him, but he was here. 

"You’re supposed to heal, Buck," you whispered. "Please. Promise me."

A slow, lazy blink. Then another. His lips parted, another whisper of breath escaping. Speaking seemed like a tremendous effort.

"‘I will, doll."

The nickname slipped out, rough and unintentional, but it sent something hot and aching through your chest.

He didn't know. He had no idea. How much you loved him. How much it would break you if he didn’t recover. You could barely even entertain the thought.

You swallowed hard, pressing your forehead against his, letting his warmth seep into you, grounding you.

"Good," you breathed, voice shaking. "You better."

His lips quirked—just barely, just enough.

And then, exhaustion pulled him under again.

–

He slept for hours.

So long that time lost meaning. The only markers of its passing were the slow shift of light through the windows, the way the world outside darkened and quieted, and the steady rhythm of his breath.

At some point, just before nightfall, you had dragged him to the old couch, wincing as his weight slumped against you, his body a dead weight of exhaustion and blood loss. The couch was too small, barely accommodating his frame, but it was better than the rickety old chair. You had folded up a sweater to tuck beneath his head, hoping to give him something resembling comfort.

Then, you sat beside him. You stayed there, unmoving, watching over him like some kind of silent sentinel. Every breath he took became an anchor, something to hold onto while the storm inside you raged.

The serum was working, you realized. 

You willed it to.

You willed your hands not to tremble when you finally dared to check his wound. The bleeding had stopped. The deep gash at his side was still an angry thing, but no longer a threat. You cleaned him up as best you could, dabbing away the dried blood, the sweat, the remnants of a battle neither of you had been sure he’d walk away from. He didn’t stir when you bandaged him up, didn’t even wince when you pressed down to ensure it held. He was dead to the world, lost in some place where pain couldn’t touch him.

The relief hit you like a punch to the gut. So intense it nearly stole your breath.

You could have taken a shower. You could have eaten, slept, done a million things in the endless stretch of time before he woke. And yet, you sat there, knees drawn to your chest, hands curled into your sleeves as you watched him. The soft light from the kitchen, the only you one had dared to turn on, flickered across his face, softening the sharp planes of his jaw, making him look almost peaceful.

Almost.

Bucky Barnes never looked truly at peace. Even in sleep, there were the faint lines of tension around his eyes, the ever-present ghosts lingering beneath the surface.

You had no idea when it happened. When he became more than just the man you guided through missions, monitored from a distance, and kept safe from behind a screen. It had snuck up on you in the quiet moments—the way he paid attention to your every word, the way he trusted your intel without question, the way his voice softened just a little when he spoke your name. The rare, fleeting glint of warmth in his.low chuckle when you cracked a joke through his earpiece like you were the only thing tethering him to something lighter, something more than the constant battles he had to face.

You never meant for this to happen. But it had.

And now here you were, sitting in the half-dark, staring at him like a fool, with a heart that beat too fast in your chest.

A low, hoarse sound broke the silence. A groan, rough with sleep and exhaustion.

Your breath hitched as his head stirred against the makeshift pillow. The twitch of his fingers, the slow shift of his expression—until those blue eyes finally cracked open, hazy and unfocused.

“Am I dead?”

His voice was a rasp, rough and broken, like gravel scraping against metal. It sent a shiver racing down your spine, an involuntary reaction to hearing it at all. Because for a terrifying moment, you thought you never would again.

Still, the laugh that tumbled from your lips was more relieved than anything else. “No. But you were trying really hard to get there.”

His brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his battered face. He moved sluggishly, turning his head toward you, eyes struggling to focus as he took you in. The sight of him awake, coherent, was almost enough to bring you to your knees.

Almost.

“If you had,” you murmured, arching a brow as you gestured around the small, dimly lit room, “would this be your heaven?”

It was a joke, mostly. A feeble attempt to lighten the moment, though the humor didn’t quite reach your voice. The old house was barely livable, the bare minimum of furniture thrown together in a desperate attempt at a safe house. It lacked warmth. It lacked everything, really.

Bucky exhaled sharply, something caught between a laugh and a scoff. “You think I’m going to heaven?”

That laugh. Short. Self-deprecating. Dripping with irony. You hated it.

“You don’t?” you challenged, gaze unwavering. “You must’ve earned a place after all that suffering.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

The word slipped from his lips so easily, like breathing, but it knocked the air right out of your lungs. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to react, but it was useless. Especially when you realized he was still staring at you. Taking you in. Seeing the exhaustion that clung to you like a second skin, the dried blood smeared across your hands and clothes—his blood. The worry written into every crease of your expression.

You felt exposed. Raw.

“You... been sitting there this whole time?”

You hesitated. You could lie. Maybe you should. You could brush it off, say you had just been checking in on him, nothing more… Instead, you settled for the truth.

“Yeah.”

Bucky exhaled heavily, his head falling back against the pillow, but his gaze never left you. Something flickered in his eyes, something unreadable, but you felt it all the same.

After a moment, his lips quirked slightly. “Didn’t know I rated that kind of devotion.”

Your breath hitched. If he noticed, he had the decency not to comment on it.

“I never saw you like that before,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “You were bleeding all over the place, Bucky. You’re… you’re my super soldier. My Terminator. You’re supposed to be invincible.”

The joke melted into something softer, something vulnerable. You dropped your gaze, blinking hard against the sting in your eyes. You couldn’t let him see. Couldn’t let him know just how close you had come to breaking.

“You could’ve at least taken a shower.”

He meant it as a distraction, but it only served as a reminder. The truth was—you hadn’t wanted to leave. Not even for a second. But admitting that? Dangerous territory.

“I couldn’t,” you muttered instead, shaking your head. “I had to make sure...”

Bucky hummed low in his throat, the weight of his gaze pressing against the side of your face. Then, with a sigh, he reached out—slow, careful, testing the limits of his body—and let his fingers ghost over your wrist. Barely a touch, but it sent your pulse into a tailspin.

“Thank you,” he murmured, the words rough, real.

You swallowed hard. “Yeah, well... just try not to do it again, alright?”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he studied you for a long moment, then sighed. “You look exhausted. Should’ve told me to move over.”

The thought of sharing a bed with him—this small, intimate space—had you reeling. “The, uh, couch is too small. And you needed the rest.”

His eyes drifted over you, lingering. “And you didn’t?”

Desperate for some normalcy, you let out a small huff, adopting a teasing tone. “I don’t need as much beauty sleep as you, Barnes.”

That earned you a tired chuckle. “So that’s how it is, huh?”

“Yup. You were looking a little rough before all the blood loss. Thought I’d do you a favor and let you rest.”

Bucky groaned. “Damn. Knew you were brutal, but this?”

“Hey,” you grinned, squeezing his thigh lightly, “if you can keep up, that means you’re feeling better.”

Bucky let out a breath, and for a moment, something warm flickered behind his exhaustion. “Guess I must be.”

Silence stretched between you, heavier this time, something unspoken weaving through it. You allowed yourself to lean against the cold metal of his vibranium arm, savoring the quiet until he shifted, groaning. Both of you stayed there and you thought he’d fallen back asleep when his groan broke through the quiet. Carefully, Bucky pushed himself upright, wincing slightly as his muscles protested.

“Gonna take a shower,” he mumbled, rubbing a tired hand over his face. 

"Bucky, I don’t think—"

"Not asking, sweetheart," he cut in, already pushing himself to his feet. Wobbling. 

Stubborn son of a bitch.

“Why won’t you listen to me? You always listen to me,” you argued, audibly on edge, rising to your feet to try and make sure you were prepared in case he tumbled over.

“I am covered in blood and I smell,” he grunted, vibranium hand pressing to the bandage you had patched him up with. He was clearly still in pain but too stubborn to admit it. “It’ll make me feel better.”

You rushed forward, steadying him before he could fall over like an idiot. "Jesus. Fine. But keep the door unlocked, okay? In case you—"

"I'm not gonna drown in the shower," he deadpanned.

You gave him a look. "I was gonna say in case you pass out and crack your head open again, but now I’m adding ‘drowning’ to my already very long list of concerns, thank you very much."

Bucky sighed, squeezing your hand before stepping away toward the bathroom. You should have looked away when he peeled his blood-streaked shirt over his head, revealing bruised skin beneath. But you didn’t.

And when he glanced back at you, a tired smirk still playing at his lips, you knew he had caught you staring.

You exhaled, running a hand through your hair. He was alive. Battered, broken, but alive.

The weight of the past few hours pressed heavily against your chest, like a vice squeezing the air from your lungs. Your hands still trembled faintly, a phantom reminder of how close you had come to losing him. You told yourself you should move, should get some rest, but you couldn't. The exhaustion sat on your shoulders, thick and suffocating, but it couldn't compare to the quiet, gnawing fear that still hadn't fully released its grip on you.

What if he hadn’t woken up? What if his breathing had slowed, softened, and you hadn't noticed until it was too late? What if, even now, you had missed something—some unseen wound, some deeper injury lurking beneath the surface?

The thought made your stomach twist uncomfortably. He had survived this time. But the next?

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to clear the sting in your eyes. No, not now. Later—when he was truly safe, when you weren’t holding yourself together with nothing but sheer stubbornness and the desperate need to keep him breathing.

Then you heard it.

A muffled groan.

Maybe a pained grunt.

Then— your name.

Your stomach flipped. Fear, sharp and immediate, sank its claws into you, coiling tight around your ribs.

Without thinking, without hesitating, you moved.

The door swung open—

And you froze.

Steam curled around the small bathroom, thick and humid, clinging to your skin. The weak spray of the shower rained down on him, rivulets of water streaming down his battered body. His head was bowed, one hand braced against the tiled wall, his broad back rising and falling with every breath.

Bucky was naked.

Completely, gloriously naked.

Your pulse stuttered, breath hitching as your gaze trailed over him, helpless to look away. It wasn’t just the powerful cut of his shoulders or the elegant curve of his spine, the way his waist tapered into lean, honed muscle. It wasn’t just the deep bruises shadowing his ribs, the still-healing scrapes and cuts littering his arms and torso, each one a whisper of a battle he’d barely survived.

It was all of him.

The sculpted lines of his abdomen, the way water cascaded over his taut skin, tracing over each dip and ridge like it worshipped him. The sharp cut of his hips, leading down, down—

Oh. Oh.

Heat licked up your throat so fast you almost choked on it.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then, slowly, he lifted his head.

Blue eyes locked onto yours—heavy-lidded, exhausted, but aware. A single droplet of water trailed from his collarbone, slipping down his chest, following the defined ridges of his stomach before disappearing.

Your brain bluescreened.

You forgot how to function. Forgot how to breathe. Forgot everything but the way he stood there, utterly unbothered by his own nakedness, watching you with quiet, unspoken curiosity.

The last thread of your sanity snapped somewhere between the sculpt of his abs and the way his very beautiful, very distracting cock hung between his thighs.

“Doll?” His voice was rough, hoarse from exhaustion, raw with something else, something you couldn't name.

The way it sank into you—deep, warm, consuming—nearly made your knees buckle.

Your throat worked, but words failed. You tried again, this time barely managing to rasp out, “You called?”

A small furrow appeared between his brows. “I didn’t…” he murmured, voice gravelly, confused.

You were so, so done.

You should turn around. Give him privacy. Make some joke, brush it off, leave before this moment became irreversible.

But Bucky didn’t move. He didn’t look away. Didn’t demand you leave.

He just stood there, watching. Waiting.

“Sweetheart?” His voice was softer now, laced with something dangerous. “Is there something you need?”

There was no anger in his expression. No embarrassment, no shock—just quiet patience. Just exhaustion. Just that quiet, quiet thing that had always existed between you, humming beneath the surface, never spoken aloud.

The air between you crackled, electric, charged. The space between the door and the shower stretched impossibly vast. Your pulse roared in your ears, drowning out logic, reason, the part of you that still had a chance to walk away.

Instead, you took a step forward.

Bucky didn’t stop you.

Didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t tense.

He just watched as you took another slow, deliberate step into the bathroom, your fingers trembling as they reached behind you—

And closed the door.

The quiet click sealed something between you, a silent understanding woven into the steam curling around you both.

You were going to do this.

Your fingers twitched at the hem of your shirt. Slowly, you lifted it.

His gaze dropped.

Tracked the movement, eyes dark and unblinking. Watched as your hands trembled, hesitating for only a fraction of a second—before you dragged the fabric over your head and let it fall to the floor.

The air thickened, heavy, pulsing.

Bucky’s breathing changed, a sharp inhale barely audible over the patter of water. His pupils widened, lips parting slightly. You felt the weight of his stare, dragging over every inch of newly exposed skin as you unbuttoned your pants, sliding them down your legs.

Piece by piece, layer by layer, you joined him until you were bare.

There was no way you were leaving now.

You had crossed a line—an invisible but irreversible threshold, shifting whatever had existed between you and Bucky forever.

You weren’t leaving.

Couldn’t leave.

Not tonight. Not when he was hurting. Not when this had been building for far too long. Not ever.

And as you stepped into the warmth of the water—into him—Bucky exhaled.

The heat of the water curled around your feet, sinking into your skin as you stepped closer. Closer to him. The steam wrapped around you both, thick and humid, clinging to your skin like a second layer. You were painfully aware of how bare you both were, how little there was between you—just air, charged and heavy, laced with hesitation and the weight of unspoken words.

Bucky swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His vibranium hand twitched at his side, the black and gold glistening under the water, fingers flexing as if torn between restraint and impulse. His other arm—still sore from the break but free—hung at his side. He shifted slightly, muscles rippling, making room for you as you moved beneath the steady stream of water.

The moment your bodies brushed, heat flared—electric, searing. His hip grazed yours, slick with water, and you fought the urge to lean into him, to close the meager space that remained. Instead, you tipped your head back, letting the water cascade over you, washing away the remnants of the day—the grime, the blood, the sweat, the panic.

When your eyes reopened, blue locked onto you. But not the sharp, perceptive blue you were used to—this was deeper, darker, laced with something raw and consuming. Something that mirrored everything you had fought to keep buried.

"Is this as nerve-wracking for you as it is for me?"

Your voice barely carried over the steady rush of water, but the confession was out before you could second-guess it—honesty slipping through the cracks of your restraint, as it always did when you were pushed past your comfort zone.

A flicker of hesitation ghosted across his face, fleeting but there. You caught it. Felt it.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, voice rough, edged with something raw. "You don’t have to—"

"I know."

You stepped forward, letting the water cascade off your shoulders, droplets ricocheting against his chest and streaming down the ridges of his abdomen. Heat radiated from his skin, from the space between you, from the sheer gravity of this moment.

"I want to," you admitted, breath hitching. "I’m just… a little nervous. There’s a lot of you."

A slow, uneven breath left him. His vibranium fingers flexed, tension coiling in his posture, but his gaze dropped, something unreadable flickering behind his storm-colored eyes.

"Not really," he murmured. He lifted his left hand slightly, the metal catching the dim light, gleaming through the mist. A humorless smile ghosted over his lips. "This is all I got right now. Kind of half a man at the moment."

A pang shot through you at the quiet self-deprecation laced in his words. Before you could stop yourself, you reached out, fingertips brushing the smooth, unyielding metal. Another step closed the distance, your chest grazing his, the barest contact sparking something molten, something inevitable.

Your voice was steady when you spoke. "You could never be half of anything."

Bucky inhaled sharply, your words sinking into the spaces he kept guarded. Still, he didn't move. He just stood there, letting you guide his hand to your waist, letting himself feel.

A moment passed. Stretched. Deepened.

Then, rough and uncertain, he confessed, "I’m not sure… how to do this."

The words slipped out before you could stop them. "Do what? Me?"

The tension in his face broke, just for a second—surprise flickering, then amusement. A real, genuine laugh rumbled from his chest, the sound so foreign in the moment that it stole your breath. It was almost impossible to believe this was the same man who had been bleeding beneath your shaking hands only hours ago.

"I don’t think that’s in the cards for us tonight, sweetheart," he said, voice edged with both apology and something else—something almost reverent.

You tilted your head, lips curving. "Thought you'd be more confident than this." Leaning in, you pressed a kiss where metal met flesh, felt the way his breath hitched. You smiled against his skin. "Big, strong super soldier, shying away from a little skin?"

His exhale was sharp, almost a scoff, but it didn’t quite mask the way his grip on your waist tightened—just barely, just enough to betray him, just enough to make your pulse trip.

"Not shying away," he murmured, voice thick against your ear. "Just… don’t wanna mess this up."

You tilted your chin, brushing your lips against the space just below his collarbone, feeling the way his muscles tensed. "And what exactly would ‘messing this up’ look like?"

His jaw clenched, tension rippling through him. "Rushing. Disappointing you… taking more than I should."

His hand flexed at your waist, like he was testing the edges of restraint, feeling out what was safe, what was allowed.

A slow exhale left you as your fingers trailed higher, mapping out the scars, the history written into his skin. "Bucky," you whispered, the warmth of his name wrapping around him. "I never thought… never thought you’d want me like this. I want you to take whatever you want."

His forehead dropped to yours, and for a moment, there was only the steady rush of water, the ragged edge of his breathing. Then, slowly, he pulled back, eyes searching yours, something fragile, unguarded, unraveling in their depths.

A quiet, breathy laugh left him—something between disbelief and surrender. His lips hovered near yours, close enough that his breath warmed your skin.

"Want isn’t quite how I’d put it."

Your breath hitched. He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t joking. The depth of his words settled over you, heavy and thrilling and terrifying all at once.

"Then how would you put it?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper, fingers threading into his damp hair.

He exhaled, slow and deliberate, his forehead pressing into yours. "I think you already know."

And then his lips brushed yours, tentative, testing. Your body answered before your mind could catch up—arms winding around his neck, pressing closer, heat pooling low in your stomach. The kiss deepened, unhurried, a slow unraveling, a discovery.

Bucky's hand splayed against your spine, mapping the dip of your back, fingers tracing down to your hip, exploring, learning. Every glide of his tongue ignited something deep, every touch sent a fresh wave of heat spiraling through you.

You let your hands roam—over the hard planes of his chest, the dips and ridges of his stomach, the firm grasp of his waist. Each touch was a silent question. Every shift of his body, an answer.

"You’re shaking," he murmured against your lips, voice thick. "Still nervous?"

"A little," you admitted, breathless, cheeks flushed with heat. "I want… I want this so much."

His mouth curled, the faintest smile, almost apologetic. "I’m sorry I can’t give it to you."

"It’s alright, I—"

You surged up on your toes, kissed him harder, pouring every ounce of want into the press of your lips. A small, needy sound escaped you as his hand tightened at your waist. When you pulled away, your teeth grazed his bottom lip, and he exhaled sharply, his body rutting forward—instinctive, aching, desperate.

Your bare stomach brushed against him, and your breath hitched. "God, okay—can I touch you?" Your fingers curled at his waist, pressing, feeling the tremor in his muscles. "I want to make you feel good."

Bucky's breath stuttered, his hand tightening just enough to send a shiver racing through you. His forehead pressed to yours, a war waging behind his eyes.

Then, voice low and wrecked, he whispered, "Sweetheart… you already do."

Your fingers traced lower, over the taut muscles of his abdomen, feeling the way he tensed beneath your touch, like he was trying to hold himself together. His breath was ragged, unsteady, and when you let your nails graze lightly over his skin, a low, shuddering sound rumbled in his chest.

"Bucky," your voice was a whisper, sweet and coaxing, threading through the steam like a promise. "Will you let me touch you?"

His jaw tensed, head dipping forward as though the weight of restraint was too much to bear. "You don’t—"

"Please." Your fingers trailed lower, teasing, testing, watching the way his muscles twitched beneath your touch. "I want this. I want you."

A sharp inhale, his control fraying at the edges. Then—he gave in.

Not all at once. He unraveled in pieces, like a taut thread snapping one fiber at a time. His body melted under your hands, surrendering inch by inch. His vibranium fingers flexed at your waist before falling away entirely, like he couldn’t trust himself to touch, to take. But you saw it—the way his pupils blew wide, the way his lips parted around a strangled breath as your fingers wrapped around his length.

"Jesus," he rasped, head knocking back against the tile.

You bit your lip at the sight of him—chest heaving, muscles taut, his restraint hanging by a thread. Slowly, deliberately, you tightened your grip, savoring the way a groan tore from his throat, raw and unguarded. You stroked, slow and deliberate, thumb teasing the slick head of him before your fingers curled, picking up the pace.

"Is this okay?" Your voice was breathless, uncertain for the first time.

His answer was immediate—a sharp nod, his hand covering yours for the briefest second, grounding himself before letting go again. "Yeah, sweetheart. Yeah, just—"

A strangled noise broke from him when you abandoned his length in favor of the heavy weight of his balls, rolling them in your palm, feeling the heat, the way his hips twitched into your touch like he couldn’t help it.

You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to drop to your knees and taste him, make him fall apart in a way that would leave him wrecked for anything else. You wanted him to snap, to pin you against the wall and take you, bury himself so deep you forgot your own name.

You wanted, wanted, wanted.

It was all you could think about.

"Fuck," he choked out, vibranium fingers digging into the slick tile, his flesh hand flexing like he wanted to grab you but didn't trust himself to. "You're—"

"Good?" you teased, pressing a kiss to his jaw, smiling against his skin when he trembled.

"Perfect," he groaned, voice wrecked.

Encouraged, you found your rhythm again—slow, deliberate, teasing your thumb over his sensitive head, drinking in the way his chest heaved. Your other hand cupped his balls, rolling them in tandem with each measured stroke, and his head tipped back, eyes squeezing shut. Water streamed down his skin, but it did nothing to cool the heat rolling off him, the way his body shook beneath your touch.

"You always this quiet?" you murmured, pressing your lips to the hollow of his throat.

A breathless laugh, broken at the edges. "Tryin’ not to lose my mind here, sweetheart."

"Maybe I want you to," you whispered, tightening your grip and twisting just enough to make him curse under his breath.

His hips bucked into your hand, desperation bleeding into every ragged exhale, every twitch of his muscles. He was unraveling, piece by piece, falling apart in your hands, and God, it was intoxicating.

"I think I could come just from watching you," the confession tumbled from your lips, unfiltered, the pulsing ache between your thighs intensifying. "You’re beautiful."

A guttural noise, raw and wrecked. "Fuck, you’re killing me." His forehead pressed against yours, the last fraying strands of control slipping from his grasp. "I—shit, I’m not gonna last."

Pleasure curled hot in your belly. He was holding on by a thread, and you wanted to be the one to pull him under.

"Don’t," you urged, pressing closer, stroking him faster, feeling the way his muscles locked beneath your touch. "Don’t hold back, Bucky. Let me see you."

His breath hitched. His jaw locked. And then—

He let go.

A shuddering moan, unrestrained and devastatingly raw, tore from his lips as he spilled into your hand. His body jerked, muscles seizing, fingers digging into the tile like it was the only thing keeping him tethered. You felt the tremor in his limbs, the sharp, broken breaths leaving him, his forehead still pressed against yours like he needed the anchor.

You stayed close, pressing soft, lingering kisses along his jaw, his cheek, his temple, until the tension bled from his body, until his breathing evened out.

A low, breathless laugh rumbled through him, rough around the edges. "Jesus. You’re dangerous."

You grinned against his skin, feeling the way his chest still rose and fell unevenly beneath you, the tremor of aftershocks still running through his muscles. His vibranium arm curled around your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you against the heat of his still-thrumming body.

"Not dangerous," you murmured, brushing your lips against the sharp line of his jaw, lingering at the corner of his mouth. "Just very, very into you. And willing to wait."

Bucky exhaled, still catching his breath, still holding you like you were the only thing keeping him upright. But this time, it wasn’t because of his injuries. It was because you had unraveled him, completely and utterly, in a way no one else ever had.

His fingers flexed at your hip, gripping you like he was still making sense of the way you fit against him. "Sweetheart," he muttered, voice low and rough, "whatever patience you got? You might need it for me."

You smiled, threading your fingers through his damp hair, pressing your lips to his in something soft, something promising.

"Can’t wait."

His arm curled more firmly around you, holding you against his chest, warm and steady. Your hand traced down his bruised arm, gentle over the battered skin. He tensed slightly beneath your touch, but didn’t pull away. Instead, he let you hold him, let you feel the weight of him—whole, breathing, here.

You nuzzled against his chest, pressing a lingering kiss over his heart, feeling its steady rhythm beneath your lips. "You scared me today," you admitted, barely above a whisper. You tightened your grip around him, clinging to the solid warmth of his body, trying to ignore the heat of desire curling low in your stomach, giving way to something even stronger. Something scarier. "Don’t ever do that again. I mean it, Buck, I—"

"I know." His voice was softer now, his lips pressing into your hair. "I could see it. In your eyes, you were—"

"Yeah." You swallowed hard. "I was."

Silence settled between you, thick with everything you weren’t saying. The air still hummed with the remnants of adrenaline, of tension, of the quiet fear that had lodged itself in your ribs the moment you saw him bleeding, barely standing, on the edge of collapse.

Bucky shifted, just slightly, his vibranium hand pressing against the small of your back, keeping you close. Then, quietly, deliberately, he murmured, "I need you to know something, doll."

The seriousness in his voice sent your heart skipping. You lifted your head, meeting his gaze. "What is it?"

For a moment, he hesitated—like he was choosing his words carefully, like he was about to step over some invisible line he could never uncross. His thumb brushed over your jaw, a touch so tender it made your breath catch.

"This isn’t just tonight," he said, voice steady despite the rawness in it. "It’s not just the adrenaline or the heat of the moment. It’s not even just because you saved my ass back there." He exhaled, his forehead briefly pressing against yours before pulling back, searching your eyes. "It’s you. It’s been you for a while now."

Your breath hitched.

Bucky’s hand trailed up, fingers ghosting over your cheek, tracing the curve of your face like he was committing every inch of you to memory. "I don’t always know how to say the right thing," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "Or how to be good at this. But I know that I want you. Not just here. Not just now. I want all of it. All of you. If you’ll have me."

A sharp, aching warmth bloomed in your chest. He was laying himself bare, in a way you knew wasn’t easy for him. No bravado, no deflection—just truth.

A slow, shaky smile tugged at your lips as you lifted a hand to his face, your thumb skimming along his stubbled jaw.

"Bucky Barnes, you are the most ridiculous man I have ever met."

His brows furrowed, lips parting—until you leaned in and kissed him. Slow, deep, like he was something precious. Something worth holding onto.

When you pulled away, you pressed your forehead to his, your fingers still tangled in his damp hair.

"I’m not going anywhere," you murmured, voice thick with emotion. "Not tonight. Not ever."

A breath shuddered out of him, and then his arms were wrapping around you—tightly, fiercely, like he could somehow pull you into him completely.

"Good," he whispered against your skin. "Because I think I’d go crazy if you did."

You smiled against his collarbone, letting yourself melt into him, into the warmth of his body, into the steady, reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat.

Bucky was safe. He was healing.

And now, finally—he was yours.

[meidiary]

( ♡ ) WHEN THEY'RE JEALOUS .. !!

synopsis : ur wbk favs get a little too annoyed because of the bold guy next to you

starring : sakura haruka, suo hayato, nirei akihiko, kiryu mitsuki & kaji ren

mei's note : eeehhh!! first time writing for wb.. i absolutely adore all the wb content on here && I wanted to contribute a bit- so that's what brings us here.. hope you enjoy! this layout was inspired by the lovely @stunie & @kaiser1ns ♡

SAKURA HARUKA

nicknames / f!reader

"baby~ need me to put some sunscreen on your back?" you grab the sunscreen spray and get up on your knees. you giggle as you see a faint blush on your boyfriend's face. "don't need any sunscreen," sakura mumbles, avoiding any eye contact with you.

you wrap your arms around his neck from the back, leaning down before brushing his ear with your lips. "nuh-uh, you do need it.."

"close your eyes, okay?"

he grumbles a bit before obliging and allowing himself to melt in your embrace.

the first spray was cold, albeit the warm weather, it still gave sakura the chills. but he forgets about the cold sensation once he feels your soft hands, massaging the sunscreen onto his skin. your fingers slowly gliding from his shoulders to his upper back.

sakura almost missed the cold feeling of the second spray because he was too focused on how warm your hands felt om him. your hands gently making their way to his lower back.

then the third spray- your fingers suddenly stop moving. his eyes jump open, his eyebrows are up in confusion, where did the warn sensation of your touch go? he looks to the back to see you waving to a group of people on the other side of the beach.

"haru', i'm gonna go say hello to some old friends! give me a minute or two, and I'll be back, yeah?" you tell him all giddy before heading to your old friend group.

a huff leaves sakura's lips, just a tad bit annoyed some randoms stole your attention. he meticulously follows you with his eyes as you make your way to the group. sakura internally scolds himself for not telling you to wear something on top of your little two piece bikini. don't get him wrong! he thinks you look gorgeous, stunning even! but now he has to restrain himself from going over there and punching the guy who's been undressing you with his eyes the second you greeted the group.

his teeth are clenched, the veins in his neck are popped while he struggles to stay put and not make a scene. sakura knows you don't like it when he starts a fight, that's why he's using up all the patience he has to prevent himself from beating the guy. if it were up to him, he would've started a fight the moment that weirdo started smiling at you like that! who does he think he is? does he really think he stands a chance with someone like you? funny.

sakura doesn't even know what you see in him, but there's absolutely no way he's going to stand by while some sicko is flirting with his girlfriend!

as if on cue, you bump into sakura the moment he started agigatedly stomping your direction. "eh? you miss me already?" a giggle leaves your mouth as you wrap your arms around your boyfriend's neck. "I didn't know you needed me around so badly!" another silly joke of yours flew right past sakura, his attention still being at your former friend group.

"hey..! what're you looking at?" your head spins to the same direction sakura's looking at before you notice he's glaring at your old friend. after a while the realization hit; your tsundere boyfriend was jealous! ah, lovely, another thing to tease him about!

"baby~ are you jealous I was talking to him?" you laugh, turning his head to face you.

"w-what?! of course not! w-what are you on, you weirdo!" he stumbles backward a bit before gaining his balance again, your arms now detached from his neck. sakura continues to mumble, "he- he should just stop lookin' at you like that.." your raise your eyebrows as you see a blush creeps up on his face.

you bite the inside of your lip, trying your hardest to keep yourself from smiling. "like what haru'? hm?"

"you know what I mean."

you reconnect your hands with his neck, tilting your head to the side. "no~ I don't!"

"[ ♡ ]!" your first name rolls off of his tongue so smoothly, reminding him not everyone can call you that. not everyone could stand as close to you as he is standing right now. not everyone could feel your hot breath on their skin as your fingertips slowly caress their neck. and even if they could, he wouldn't let them. you're his and his only.

"like you're his girlfriend, cause you're not! he should know his damn place.." sakura sighs before hiding his face in the crook of your neck, hesitantly wrapping his arms around your waist. "y-you're mine. just- just don't forget that.."

you gulp as you stand in the middle of the beach, completely enveloped by your boyfriend, not able to move an inch because of the way he's holding you. you receive glances from passers-by but you don't care enough right now. he called you his, it felt as though you could've squealed when he uttered those 3 words.

but truth be told, you are most definitely his, and his only.

SUO HAYATO

if you squint your eyes -> a bitttt of yandere!suo at the end / nicknames / reader wears dresses !

"but- it looked so cute!" you protest, your eyebrows furrowed as you look at your boyfriend rolling his eyes playfully.

"hey now, I thought i already told you that it definitely carries like atleast 10 diseases," suo glances at you, noticing your lips were still pouted, "look, if you had touched it, you'd probably have ended up in a hospital, we don't want that now, do we pretty?" suo lets out a chuckle.

you slightly shake your head before intertwining your fingers with his.

he lets out a quiet sigh before admitting, "it did look cute, though.." you giggle at your boyfriend's statement, your giggles mixing with his chuckle.

suddenly, you hear a small thud, which makes you swiftly turn your head to the side at the sound of something falling.

"ah! su', gimme a minute, stay here with the bags please!" you let go of his hand as you make your way to the guy who had dropped some boxes. you get down and start helping him put the items back in the boxes. "h-hey, thanks for helping out!" the guy spills out before he continues grabbing his stuff, his hand accidentally touching yours as you both go to grab the water bottle. awkwardly laughing it off, you two finish up refilling the box.

little do you know on the other side of the street suo drops the shopping bags he was holding for you, he doesn't care less what could happen to those pretty pink bags filled with cute dresses you tried on earlier in the shops, which you decided were essential additions to your already filled to the brim closet. if the bags would end up stolen, suo would buy you new ones anyway. so they weren't that important right now.

not when some guy was gushing at his girlfriend. not when that same stranger had touched your hand, which only he was allowed to do. and oh, definitely not when he had the courage to shove his phone in your pretty hands, waiting for you to put your number in.

"[ ♡ ]," suo calls out your name as he reaches you. "we should go, sweetheart, we told the others we'd be at kotoha's in 10," he forces a smile before taking the guy's phone out of your hand and pointing it towards him. "yours?" cold, that was the only way to describe your boyfriend, whose smile had disappeared into thin air, tone.

the guy who you were so innocently helping earlier, started awkwardly thanking the both of you before hastily making his way to his car.

"ah, su'! my bags!" you sprint to the shopping bags on the other side of the street, worriedly checking if all the items were still inside. "everything's still inside?" your boyfriend's smile was showing again.

you nod as he grabs the bags in one hand and locks his other hand with yours. this time with a tighter grip, the last thing he'll allow is for you to stray from him again.

"stay close to me now, alright pretty? don't let go of my hand."

and you could've sworn you saw him clench his jaw before relaxing it and sending you his signature smile again. "love you."

NIREI AKIHIKO

no warnings, just nirei being adorable

how did nirei even get himself into this situation? no, but really, how? it was a perfect day; sunny weather with clouds nowhere in sight, nirei was hanging out with the people he loved being around, his friends, and of course, you! yet somehow, he finds himself in the bookstore, ignoring his friends' stories.

he isn't purposely ignoring them! it's just hard to listen to them when his, his girlfriend is being hit on by the employee.

you were talking him about how badly you wanted to read this book. it was of a psychological genre, and when you explained the story premise to your boyfriend, he got totally spooked by it! but when you two and your friends got to the store, you couldn't find it at all..

you were searching for an employee to help you find it as your earlier attempt with nirei and the others weren't really successful.

but, oh, the regret nirei's feeling right now about letting you go off on your own to find someone to help is absolutely tearing him apart! he doesn't want to seem like the possessive type by waltzing over there and snaking an arm around you, but he can't stand witnessing one more second of that guy flirting with you!

"hmm, what're you gonna do now, huh nirei?" suo teases the blond, elbowing kiryu to witness nirei's predicament.

"hah? you gonna let 'em take your girl, eh nirei?" kiryu chuckles, playfully pushing his shoulder.

nirei shakes his head before sending yet another glare at the employee. he was an older man, way too old to even think about flirting with you. what's worse is that you were completely oblivious to the situation, you probably just thought he was being friendly!

that's it. with that thought flowing in nirei's brain he makes his way to you.

"h-hey! you find the book yet, sweetheart?"

nirei usually sticks to calling you by your name or nickname, occasionally even calling you baby. but never had he called you sweetheart before. so that was what caught your attention.

"yes, darling, I have!" you giggle as you decide to play along this game of his, oblivious to the way your boyfriend's staring at the older man, waiting for him to get the hint and back off.

"well.. I'll be going then.." the employee abruptly leaves, after rolling his eyes at you two.

nirei's knot in his stomach finally seems to loosen as he intertwines his fingers with yours. "glad you found it," your blond boyfriend sends you a cheeky smile.

"thank you, sweetheart!"

"SWEETHEART?!" tsugeura yells out, fake-fainting into kiryu's arms. the pink-haired individual struggling with keeping tsugeura on his feet. "y-yo, you're 'bout to make me trip!"

suo smiles widely, one of his hands on nirei's shoulder. "my, my, you've progressed a lot in the past 5 minutes, haven't you? you even got sakura blushing like crazy.."

"hey shut up!" sakura hides his face behind the book he was holding, pretending he was checking it out. mind you, it was upside down..

oh my, nirei is going to be teased about this for the rest of the year. but honestly, he'd do it all again to see your pretty smile again. your laughing mixing in with all the ruckus the guys are making brings another genuine smile to nirei's face.

this was his happy place, right here with you.

(just look at him omg... i-)

KIRYU MITSUKI

nicknames

"ah! mitsuki, look at this top, isn't it adorable?!" completely in love with the clothing piece, you show it to your boyfriend, waiting for his opinion on it.

"mhm, it'd look so pretty on you. and it'd fit with your new shoes!" kiryu adds, slightly wiggling his eyebrows up and down to convince you the top is a must-have! "come on~, tried it on for me."

kiryu locks his hands with yours before pulling you along with him to the dressing rooms.

you hand your boyfriend your handbag and jacket before picking out where you'll try the top on. "I'll be quick, kay?" you tell him, earning a smiley nod from him.

after some time, kiryu sees your hand coming out of the dressing room, signing to him to come in. chuckling, he goes into the small space.

"baby, look how small it is! 's like a baby size.." you mumble, still trying to adjust the top.

the back of your top gets adjusted by kiryu before he shakes his head, "baby-, I'll just go grab another size for you. this size could actually be a baby's size.." you giggle as you nod, planting a quick kiss on his cheek before letting him go look for a different size.

kiryu searches at the original spot, but he doesn't seem to find the other sizes. after a long while of searching and asking the employees, going through 3 floors searching for the top, and then suddenly remembering there's a fourth floor, kiryu finally finds the infamous top.

this piece of fabric better be the best clothing piece ever.

with the top in his, your boyfriend makes his way back to you, eager to see you wearing the right size this time.

he turns the corner to get to the dressing rooms when he hears your voice. you're sitting on the couch, talking to some guy. that isn't a bad thing, it really isn't! what is, though, is the fact that the guy was giving you heavy heart eyes as he grabbed your phone to add his number. like yes, you're pretty, gorgeous, stunning, but you're taken, so no, thank you!

"h-hey.. maybe we should y'know go there togeth-"

"hey, princess, I found your top," kiryu walts over to the sofa, standing in front of the two of you. his smile disappears almost immediately once he shifts his gaze to the man next to you. "and you are?"

you widen your eyes a bit at your boyfriend's sharp tone. "baby-," you mumble

kiryu's fixed stare started to make him feel fiddly as he starts awkwardly laughing. "h-hey man, didn't know she was taken.. was just hitting up a pretty girl, right?" he chuckles before standing up.

"mhm, next time, don't hit on my pretty girl, yeah?"

another awkward laugh flows out of the man's mouth as he leaves the dressing rooms.

"mitsuki-"

"don't even get me started," kiryu hands you the top. he motions for you to try I on before plopping on the couch again, still annoyed at the individual trying to get with his pretty girlfriend.

but all that pent-up annoyance and frustration suddenly goes right out the window when he sees you walking out of the fitting room. wow, you look incredible.

the way the top hugs your figure so elegantly yet somehow still remains a casual vibe, surprises him.

"baby? what do you think?"

"you look so pretty, princess.." kiryu wraps his arms around your waist before pulling you closer to him. "you always do."

kiryu's bank account might be experiencing an existential crisis because of all the items he bought you, but he couldn't care less when he sees you smile like that.

KAJI REN

teenie tiny bit of swearing / reader's wearing a skirt

where is that damn soda of yours?! kaji's been roaming the grocery store, searching for another soda for you because you were all "baby, they're buy 1 get 1 free!". and how could he tell you he wasn't in the mood to go to the back of the store to get it for you when you were puppy-eyeing him.

damn you. (he loves you)

if kusumi were there with him, kaji just knows he'd be poking fun at him, calling him a simp again.

finally, he found the bottled soda! he angrily grabbed it, making his way back to you, who stayed in line, waiting for your turn at the cash register.

kaji moves past families with full carts, jumps over children playing on the ground, and almost knocks over a fabric softener stand.

reaching the line at the register, he hears your laugh and follows it past the others in line to get to you. wait, who were you laughing at? as he stands behind you, you turn around to greet him.

"baby! this is kai, he was telling me all about some trivia about fruits!" you giggle, waiting for ren to greet the man in front of you, who had reached out his hand to him.

your boyfriend only stares at him before the man retrieves his hand, uncomfortably running it through his hair before letting out a forced chuckle.

you smile awkwardly, turning your head a little to kaji's side. "ren. be nice," you warn with a smile still on your face.

"anyway, did you know figs aren't fruits! they're inverted flowers, isn't that crazy?" you start rambling, hoping to dissipate the awkward situation. you were completely amazed at what the stranger told you. unbeknownst to you though, kaji was fuming, he was humming at your rambles whilst scowling at the man in front of you.

you should've seen how the stranger was looking at you before kaji stood next to you! his toothy smile, flirtatious glances, the man even playfully touched your shoulder. but you, of course, being the clueless person you are, thought he was just being friendly!

as you ended your newly learned trivia about fruits, you saw the man grabbing his stuff and hastily walking off.

"y-yeah well, was nice to meet you too.. bye.." the guy turns around, not even sparing you another glance.

kaji rolls his eyes as you too load up your groceries in a bag and start heading out.

"baby, you were so rude!" you state while taking a sip from your soda, and then offering it to him. "the guy was just being nice.."

grabbing the sods, kaji lets out a scoff. unamused with your cluelessness. "the guy was trying to get in your pants," kaji's eyes shot down, only to see you were wearing a skirt. "..uh skirt, whatever, you know what I'm getting at..!"

"ren, you're exaggerating so much it's starting to give me a headache!" you joke, locking your arm with his.

another sigh leaves kaji's mouth. "baby, why else would a guy randomly tell a pretty girl some shitty trivia in a grocery store if not to get close to you?!"

a moment of silence lingers between the two of you before you look back at your boyfriend. "... you think I'm pretty?" you deadpan, holding in your laugh as you see kaji literally breaking.

"I should've let him have you-" as your boyfriend hears your giggles a tiny smile creeps up his face.

"love you too, rennie."

his arm slings around your waist and holds you even tighter to him than usual.

kusumi's right, he definitely is a simp.

[pastryfication]

an oscar x deaf reader, maybe she’s friends w someone working in mclaren and visits. the reader almost gets into an accident and oscar saves her, mad that she wasn’t paying attention and yells at her only to realize she’s deaf. he apologizes and he starts talking to her after that day.

close save | oscar piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x deaf reader note: i know close to nothing about lip reading and deafness, all info used in this is something i’ve googled, so feel free to correct me if something is wrong!! also, i’ve tried something new with writing it mostly from oscar’s perspective, so let me know if you like it xx

the midday sun beats down on the mclaren garage, casting long shadows over the bustling crew. it’s been a long morning of prep work, but oscar doesn’t mind—he thrives in the intensity, in the noise, in the hum of engines that fill his ears.

as he turns to grab a drink of water, something catches his eye. a young woman is standing just outside the garage, looking around with a distracted expression. you’re not wearing any of the usual gear or badges that indicate you’re part of the team, but there’s something familiar about you. oscar narrows his eyes, trying to place your face, when he notices something alarming—a forklift is backing up, and you’re right in its path.

without thinking, oscar drops the bottle and sprints toward you. his heart pounds as he closes the distance, yelling for you to move, but you don’t react. panic grips him as he reaches out, grabbing your arm and yanking you out of the way just in time. the forklift lumbers past, the driver oblivious to the close call.

oscar’s chest heaves as he turns to face you, adrenaline coursing through his veins. “what the hell were you thinking? you could’ve been—” he stops mid-sentence, noticing your startled expression. your eyes are widened, but not in fear of the near-miss. it’s something else.

you blink at him, your mouth moving soundlessly, and suddenly oscar realizes what’s wrong. you can’t hear him. the realization hits him like a punch to the gut, and the anger he felt a moment ago is instantly replaced by guilt. his face softens, and he steps back, his hand dropping from your arm.

“i’m- i’m sorry,” he stammers, his voice suddenly quiet, as if lowering it might somehow make up for his outburst. “i didn’t know . . .”

you tilt your head slightly, as if trying to read his lips, and oscar feels a wave of helplessness wash over him. he raises his hands, fumbling awkwardly as he tries to communicate. he doesn’t know any sign language—he’s never needed to—but he gestures toward the forklift, then back at you, hoping you understand that he was just worried.

to his relief, you nod, giving him a small, understanding smile. you point to your ear, then shake your head, confirming what he’s already guessed. you’re deaf.

oscar takes a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. he feels terrible, not just for yelling at you, but for assuming you were ignoring him when you couldn’t even hear him in the first place. “i’m sorry,” he repeats, mouthing the words more deliberately this time. he hopes you can read his lips.

you nod again, your expression kind, and motion that it’s okay. oscar feels a strange warmth in his chest at your forgiveness. he still feels like an idiot, but at least you don’t seem to hold it against him.

at that moment, lando appears from the other side of the garage, waving enthusiastically as he approaches. “hey, mate! you met jon’s sister yet?” he calls out, clearly unaware of what just happened. he jogs over, grinning broadly. “oscar, this is-”

“jon’s sister?” oscar repeats, cutting him off. the pieces fall into place—jon, lando’s personal trainer, had mentioned his sister visiting today. he hadn’t put two and two together until now. “right. i didn’t realize . . .”

lando’s grin falters as he notices the awkward tension. “oh. uh, yeah . . . she’s deaf, by the way. did i forget to mention that?”

oscar shoots him a look, but lando just shrugs, mouthing an exaggerated “sorry!” before turning back to you. “i see you’ve met oscar, then,” he says, switching to a more careful, lip-readable pace. he introduces you properly, and oscar watches as you sign something back to lando.

lando nods and translates, “she says thank you for saving her back there.”

oscar feels his face heat up a little, embarrassed but also strangely proud. “no problem,” he says, and then, after a pause, he adds, “i should’ve been more careful. i’m sorry if i scared you.”

lando relays the message, and you just smile, giving oscar a thumbs up.

over the next few hours, oscar finds himself glancing over at you more than once. he feels a strange pull, unable to tear his eyes away as you move through the garage, interacting with your brother and some of the crew, completely at ease despite the noise and chaos around you.

at one point, you catch him looking and wave. oscar waves back, feeling a bit foolish. when the day winds down and most of the team starts packing up, oscar spots you sitting on one of the low walls outside the garage, watching the track.

he hesitates for a moment, then walks over and sits down next to you, keeping a respectful distance. you look over and give him a welcoming smile, and for the first time, oscar doesn’t feel nervous. he doesn’t know how to sign, but he doesn’t need to. you sit there together, quietly watching as the sun dips lower in the sky, painting the track in shades of gold.

finally, oscar turns to you. his phone is open in his notes app, and in there he’s written: would you like to get a coffee sometime? maybe you could teach me some sign language.

you raise an eyebrow, then nod, your smile widening as you sign something to him. oscar doesn’t understand it yet, but he knows one thing: he’s definitely looking forward to learning.

[7seas-of-ryy]

The Bet

Author’s Note: I had a long day at work and wanted to write something happy :)) I hope you like it!

Summary: Who will be able to get Azriel to laugh first?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: none, let me know if I need to add any :)

“What’s so funny?” You mumbled as you crossed your arms.

You had asked Cassian and Rhys about the shadowsinger’s sense of humor. The pair had just given each other a look and howled with laughter.

“Az?? A sense of humor??” Cass choked out through his laughter.

“That’s a good one Y/N!” Rhys said, giving you a pat on the shoulder.

“Will you guys be serious!” You scolded the two males.

“Az doesn’t laugh at jokes.” Rhysand told you.

“Orrr maybe you two just aren’t funny?” You said with a smirk.

“What? And you think you’re so funny?” Rhys questioned.

“Definitely funnier than you two.” You told them.

“That is the most hurtful thing anyone has ever said to me.” Cassian stated, putting his hand on his chest.

“How about a bet?” Rhys smirked.

Cassian clapped his hands, always up for a challenge. A large grin grew on your face, already feeling confident even though you didn’t know the bet.

“We all get one shot to get Azriel to laugh. Whoever wins gets free drinks for a night at Rita’s.” Your High Lord told you and Cassian.

“I’m in!” Cass exclaimed.

“Oh you two are so going down.” You told them.

---

Azriel had been sitting at the table eating breakfast when Cass walked in. You and Rhys were discreetly watching from another room, looking to see if he could crack Az.

“Hey Az-” Cassian spoke before tripping over a chair and falling dramatically, hitting his head on the way down.

“You ok?” Az spoke and then took another bite without getting up from his spot.

“Are you serious?” Cass grumbled then got up and walked out. The spymaster didn’t even flinch.

“That was your master plan??” You asked him once he made it to you and Rhys.

“I thought he would laugh at my pain! He seems like he would find it funny!” Cass defended his choice.

You and Rhys began to shake with laughter.

“Don't worry, I thought it was funny.” Rhys told him with a smug look on his face.

Cass gave him a look and walked away grumbling.

---

Azriel, Cassian, Rhys, and you were all training together and it was Rhys’ turn to get Az to laugh. Cass threw a weak punch at him which missed horribly.

“Ha! What was that! That was worse than Y/N on a good day!!” Rhys stated, poking fun at both you and Cass.

A scowl grew on Azriel’s face, his brows furrowed watching his friend. You and Cass both stood there, equally offended.

“Why would you be rude to Y/N? She has done nothing to you and she’s a great fighter.” Az spoke.

Rhys’ eyebrows shot up, realizing that was the wrong route to take to get him to break. A smirk grew on your face when you realized they both blew their chances and you were the most likely to win.

“Hey! Why did you stick up for her and not me?” Cass complained.

“Because that punch was awful. He should have compared you to a child with no training, not Y/N, who could easily beat you in a fight.” He told his brother.

A giggle left your lips and Az gave you a nod and a smile.

---

“Alright lets see what you got.” Rhys told you.

Azriel was sitting in the library, reading a book when you approached him.

“Hey Az! Whatcha reading?” You asked.

“A book on some rare magic.” He told you in a gentle tone, looking up at you with soft eyes.

“That sounds interesting! I’m actually reading a book on anti-gravity, and it’s impossible to put down!” You told him with emphasis on the pun.

He watched you for a moment, a smile growing on his face. Then you heard the most beautiful sound, Azriel’s laughter. You felt pride well up inside you.

“That’s a good one, very funny.” He told you and you gave him one of your big smiles.

After a little bit more conversation, you left and went over to where Rhys and Cass had been watching.

“A pun?! Really?” Cass said, disbelief evident in his voice.

Rhys stayed quiet while his brother continued to complain.

“That’s how it's done boys. Looks like I’ll be having a fun, free night out at Rita’s!” You spoke and went back into the library to sit with Az.

“How did a pun out of all things-” Cass started but Rhys elbowed him in the ribs to shut him up.

“Look at him. It wasn’t the pun... it’s her.” He spoke.

The two of them watched as you sat next to Azriel, asking if you could join him and read your book by him. He looked at you with nothing but pure adoration as he nodded his head yes.

“He’s clearly in love with her.” Rhys added.

The two of them watched as Az turned his head back to his book and you looked at him with just as much love and affection.

“That’s cheating! We need a new bet.” Cass whined.

Rhys just shook his head at him. He didn’t care that he lost the bet, he was just happy to see his brother finally love someone who loved him right back.

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

@darkbloodsly @xtreme-shipper @rcarbo1 @shamelessdonutkryptonite @anna-reader-blog

@favsrachz @julesvanslutta @kitsunetori @i-am-infinite @cat-or-kitten

@tele86 @popcornlauncher @proclivity-for-fantasy-97 @anxious-cactus @amara-moonlight

@whosmys @vanserrasimp @whoevenfrickenknows @secondratecomplaint @fightmedraco

@watermelomsuger @lillilwil @kaitttttttt @andreperez11 @irelanrose

@myromanempiree @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @thestartitaness @macimads @shizukestar

@iluvyewman-blog @mybestfriendmademe @jesskidding3 @secret-sheee @mariahoedt

@lilah-asteria @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @sinfully-yoursss @hellohauntedturnstudent @acourtofbatboydreams

@halo-mystic @tenshis-cake @vhjlucky13 @littlelunatica @blessthepizzaman

@miadialila @knittedchapters @wxhxixtxexroses @ivy-34 @littlepippilongstocking

@userxs-blog @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @topaz125