#so now the team has two AuRas...

[ourlittleuluru]

A break away from dem angst of the previous WIP posting 😂 (sorry but not really) brain decided (instead of doing the art I'm SUPPOSED to) what if the LaDS boys were playing/in FF14, what'll be their race and jobs

[hoshigray]

Heyyy. Can I request a college au. Reader is an average, socially awkward person but somehow managed to pulled the campus heartthrob, Geto (or gojo). And he's lowkey obsessed with her and try to be fucking her every chance he gets.

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: why not both? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ idk, felt like doing a threesome for some reason lmao

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto + Gojo x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! college setting - sex in public places; gymnasium locker room + dining hall + college dorms - oral (m! + f! receiving) - face + throat-fucking - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping, grinding and licking/sucking) - face-sitting - threesome - double penetration; anal and vaginal - cowgirl dp position - anal fingering (f! receiving) - kissing/making out - protected sex (psa: warp it up or get tf up) - overstimulation - pet names (angel, baby, cutie, my love, pretty girl, princess, sweetie, sweetheart) - sato + sugu being whipped over you, hehe~ - slight humor - mention of tears and drool.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.1k (pretty long for a req, lol)

“Oh, Y/n, it’s good to see you. Did you have a good weekend? Let’s walk each other to class; I was waiting for you.”

“Y/nnnn! This cold day is so much warmer now that you’re here. Let’s grab something to eat at the dining hall, okay?”

You thought college life couldn’t get any more difficult than it already is. Oh, how you were so wrong… 

Being on your own on campus was hard enough; states away from your family and having to rely on and take care of yourself while also striving for a better education. On top of this, making friends (outside of your roommates Shoko and Utahime) is such a social and excruciating chore as it’s challenging to put yourself out for people to notice you. Making small talk with your peers or talking/discussing group material in classes has your heart racing enough – not to mention trying to commit to clubs – making you feel a bit of a failure as a human being.

With that, you almost dwell on not trying at all. You’re utterly content with your inner circle with your roommates, waking up and heading to classes and back, eating college food, and sleeping after reading for a lecture. This routine of sticking to yourself was a notion you’ve grown to accept and find comfort in — no need to change it if it’s been doing you well this far.

That is until you meet them — Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, the best friends of your roommate Shoko. 

Gojo is the star player of the school’s basketball team, a famous face among the class years, and the “disgustingly tactless, cutesy prince” of your year, as described by Utahime. By morning, he’s a dedicated student in his business administration major and history minor classes; by afternoon, he is his playful, social, and charismatic snow-haired soul, grabbing the attention of others and bringing life to those around him with his bright cadence. In addition, he’s a talented figure, capturing the hearts of many with his model work in fashion shows and playing fan-favorite roles in plays.

In contrast, Geto was a much more mellow star that pulled the hearts of students and professors alike. The raven-haired bioengineering major was a boy whose presence was easy not to notice yet quick to pull you in when making himself known. His tall, docile figure emitted an aura that accompanied the soothing tune of his voice, the perfect combination that made him trustworthy and obliging to the students around him and his lacrosse teammates. With the charming features of a heartthrob and the alluring speech of a leader, he’s someone many would turn to in search of a person to follow and praise.

Satoru and Suguru, two complete opposites – two best friends – who are, without a doubt, the twin stars of this school. However, there was one thing the two shared in common, something that made your heart skip and your mind race every time knowing this fact: the two were unmistakably and sickeningly in love with you!

How? You do not know. It all started when Shoko brought them over one night for dinner, and you saw them for a quick moment in the kitchen, quickly greeting them before rushing back into your room. Next thing you knew, you had begun to see and run into them every so often, which soon turned to at least once per day. And now, like a white bubbly puppy and a black, quietly affectionate cat, you could not shake them off you when and wherever you went.

Oh, it was something you were not used to, being sneaked up from behind by Gojo, who’d pull you in for a hug or lift you with every greeting in public (as if you weighed like nothing)! Especially in classes where Geto would surprise you with his calm voice and a warm hand on your shoulder to check if you were okay before claiming the chair next to you. And you couldn’t push them away — how could you when two of the most renowned faces on school grounds want to be around your presence!? Good Lord, it was all overwhelming, Shoko and Utahime having to step in to beat the boys into shape for making you uncomfortable.

And then there are those times when the two would butt heads with each other because of you! There have been a handful of times where if one had you to themselves, the other would bore glares to the former’s skull. Gojo would suck his teeth with his arm wrapped around your shoulder, white brows furrowed and ticked off blue eyes concealed by his dark circle shades. “Yo, Buddha with bangs, can you let go? Y/n promised to hang with me after their classes ended, and I’d be damned if you’d be third-wheeling.”

“That’s not happening, Satoru,” Geto’s hand grasps yours with more grip, royal purple eyes narrowed at his white-haired friend. “Y/n and I have a presentation to work on for tomorrow. Go lollygag somewhere else.”

Two positive bundles of life will immediately turn hostile when it comes to you, suffocating your very being as you’re stuck in the middle of them. It’s bad enough being with either of them has people notice and talk about you; it’s another thing when you’re being fought over like some small bunny between two snarling wolves. Oh God, why me!!??

But it wasn’t all bad. If anything, being fawned over by the two was a strange thing that has happened to you thus far, and not in a terrible way. Gojo has made you a lot more open and social than before, dragging you to parties he’s been invited to and to his crowded games (where he’s always sure to find you and blow a kiss). And spending time with Geto has sparked instances where you’re courageous enough to speak for yourself with a bit of a push from him, throwing in your inputs for class discussions or having him aid you in knowing your material when you two study together.

The two most popular guys in school who flatter and are obsequious over you. That in itself is enough to make your cheeks and ears dial in warmth, shielding your face in your pillows just thinking about them. You like them both, bound to be drawn in by the handsome boys and their pursuit of you.

However, their infatuation was something you’d find out goes beyond words and handholds. An obsession for you embroidered in their very minds…and bodies.

“…Mhahhh, Go—Mmmph! Gojooo…we shouldn’t be doing this…”

“Aww, c’mon, Y/n, you know I don’t like it when you call me by last name. It’s just the two of us here…Fuck, keep licking it like that…”

Sneaking into the basketball team’s locker room is one thing; sneaking in with the star player in the team with you between his legs on the bench and sucking his dick? Oh, that’s a can of worms you never thought you’d open in your entire life. 

Gojo brings his head back, banging on the locker behind him as the contact of your tongue on his pink tip sends shivers up to his shoulders. “Fuuuck, you feel so good, baby. Gonna make me cum again…” You peer up with lidded eyes as you suck his tip into your mouth, him humming at the warm sensation of your mouth swallowing his length whole. Your face is hot of embarrassment, being looked down on by him as you do such an indecent thing on him in a place of changing for men. 

This was his idea – bringing you to the gymnasium to watch him practice with his teammates for an upcoming game. Then, he pulls you aside once the guys want another fifteen-minute water break, bargaining into the men’s locker room and pulling you in for a hot kiss. Sucking on and nibbling on your lips and tongue has you mewl sweetly for him, distracted as he pulls his shorts and briefs down to expose the erection growing inside him. “Sorry, you just looked too cute watching me from the side,” he’d say with a hazy glint in his eyes shielded by his shades.

So here you are, sucking him off to the hilt, where your lips meet strands of his white pubes, making your boyfriend cum for the second time. Gojo brings a hand to your head for purchase, moaning as your hand massages his balls. “—Ahh, fuck…God, you’ve gotten so good at that, cutie. Can’t get enough of you...”

His words burn your ears, his aroused tone making your face even more hot to bear. Gosh, this was such a dangerous game; your nerves constantly on edge in hopes nobody would walk in.

However, your worries might have been what jinxed your fate because you two heard the door to the locker room open. You instantly move your mouth away from Gojo’s cock and stand to panic. But before you could, Gojo quickly grabbed you by the wrist and took you to one of the bathroom stalls. You sat on the toilet, bewildered at being dragged all over this fitness center. Then, Gojo brings his dick to your face again, and you give him the most shockingly confused expression as if he can’t hear the commotion of two people speaking where they used to be.

“Relax, no one’s coming here,” Liar, we almost got caught! He pushes the tip to your mouth, and you murmur on his length, filling your mouth and throat. “Let’s make this one quick, okay?”

You were too busy registering him place his hands on your head before he could slam himself to your mouth; the sudden thrust of his hips propelling his cock deep into the tight crevices of your throat makes you grip onto his shorts for dear life. The slap of his ruts fills your eardrums; you can’t tell how far or close the two guys who entered the locker room are. He’s making you focus on nothing but him — a selfish objection from a selfish man as he’s using you to relieve himself in the men’s locker room. God, this was such a bad situation, and yet your lower half couldn’t stop the throbs that have you shifting your thighs together. How embarrassing! 

“Hhnnn, fucking shit, your throat feels so good,”  he praises, his slender fingers massaging your scalp. Your tongue brushes the underside of his length in a way that has his pace go faster, and he has to keep his moans to a lower volume. “Shiiit, baby, I’m gonna cum…Take it all in…!”

You have no choice but to, forced to gulp down all of his load that he spills into your tight, warm throat. He still rocks his pelvis into you until every pump of his jizz is inside you. When your ears pick up the sound of the locker room door opening and closing with the dismissal of the two strangers, that’s when Gojo takes his long shaft out of your mouth, spit connecting from your tongue to his cockhead is wiped with haste. 

But then, Gojo pokes your cheek with his tip, a sign that he wants to go again. You throw quiet pleas, “N–No, Gojo! You have to get back to practice—“

“Shhh, those guys can survive a few games without me. And besides,” he gently slaps your cheek with his cock. How vulgar! “I’ll fuck your mouth til the end of the day if you don’t stop using my last name when it’s just the two of us here.” The playful grin on his lips doesn’t make that threat any better. “One more time, please?”

With hesitant eyes, you place kisses on his shaft while stroking him. “Only one more…okay, Satoru?”

He beams with the dimples of his cheeks. “Yes, pretty girl~.”

And it doesn’t stop there — because Geto is no better. 

“Aww, you two are so cute together~”

You squirm on the booth seat you’re sharing with your other boyfriend, you two sitting across from his friends — a senior couple he shares a lab with that invited him for dinner. Unsurprisingly, you were his plus one, knowing you’re not one for being around people you’re not familiar with. And yet here you are, caged by the wall and Geto’s frame to keep you in this conversation on the side of the busy dining hall.

Geto chuckles before brushing your cheek, "Aren’t we? But they’re the cutest thing to me.” He says as he places a swift kiss on your cheek; it’s an action that has your face grow in warmth — and the couple “awwing” at his affection.

The guy of the couple speaks to the dark, long-haired other. “I never knew you were one for relationships, Geto; you seem so busy with Bio and your clubs that you don’t seem to have time to lay low and be with someone.”

“Mmm, I thought so, too. That is until I met Y/n through a friend of mine,” you jerk at the silent touch of his pinkie grazing your thigh, noting it had sneaked under your skirt to graze its skin. Your eyes peek in his direction, finding that he remains eye contact with the guy he’s talking with. “And, you know, I got to know them here and there, shared some classes with them on the side. Now, I just can’t imagine them being out of my line of sight.”

The guy across laughs. “Sounds kinda obsessive!”

Geto shrugs with a chortle. “I guess it’s like that, I don’t know. I’m just really crazy about them; they’re my sweetheart after all.”

“That’s so sweet!” The girl senior across exclaims, turning to you to ask, “So, how long have you and Geto been a thing, Y/n?”

The question has you stumped for a bit as you weren’t ready to be thrown inquiries. And before you answer, you feel Geto’s hand rub on your thigh. “U-Umm, me—ahem—Geto and I have been a couple for quite a while now? My roommate was the one who introduced me to him—Mmmm!” You briskly flatten your lips at your squeak because the fingers inside your skirt pinch your skin. On command, you spread your legs for Geto to insert his hand inside your panties.

The girl asks more questions. “Oh? So, your roommate brought you two together. Did you know of them before?” 

“Well, not really…She and Geto—Ohh!” You bring your hand to your lips at the graze of Geto’s forefinger on your clit. You turn to him and are immediately locked into his violet gaze. He lifts a brow with an undisturbed smile, and you gulp. “I–I mean, Suguru and my roommate have been best friends since high school, so I kinda got…Nnmm,” you chew your lips when he bullies a digit between your folds to play and tease. “She was the one who introduced me to him…”

“Is that so? Hehe, it’s amazing how the world works, huh?” You listen, but your mind is too focused on Geto’s digits swiping and nestling across your wetness to have your body more excited about his touch. And it gets worse as he inserts his forefinger inside your vagina, causing you to jolt and suppress your mewl by leaning into his shoulder, gripping onto the sleeve of his turtleneck. “Here are two lovebirds all lovey-dovey with each other thanks to one friend bringing them together. It’s crazy imagining you two would’ve never met hadn’t that happened.”

Geto hums at that comment, “I agree; I have to thank Shoko for bringing this little angel to my arms.” He places a soft kiss on your forehead, completely nonchalant compared to the quickened pace of the digit scraping your insides. “Isn’t that right, my love?”

With trenched brows and a shaky breath, you try to reply to the awaiting couple. “Mhmm, yes, I’m so grateful that Suguru is in my life…He’s been such a help to me,” his forefinger goes slow, having you feel every dent and knuckle. “Hahhh, he’s so good to me, and I love him just as mu—Mmmph!!”

“Hmm? Are you okay, Y/n?” How can you tell the guy across from you that your boyfriend’s thumb just surprised your clit with a swipe?  You’d rather melt on this floor had you not buried your face into Geto’s shoulder. 

Speaking of who, he takes the initiative to answer for you. “I think they’re a little parched, must’ve been this lemonade I got for them. I’ll go get them some water—“

“Oh, no, no! I’ll go get the water; I was gonna get more of those garlic knots anyways.” The girl stops Geto from moving, sliding from the booth seat with her boyfriend’s hand to follow suit. “C’mon, let’s leave these lovebirds for a bit. We’ll be right back!”

And so they leave, thanking your lucky stars. Once their figures are nowhere to be seen within the sea of students, you probe the man with a trembling whimper. “Mmmph, Suguru, please, take it out before—Ahhh…! They come back…”

Luckily, he listens to your request with no argument, withdrawing his digit from your wet slick and underwear. And to your horror, he brings the finger to lick and suck and says with a dark look, “Just checking to see what I’ll be having later.”

It doesn’t matter wherever or whenever; Gojo and Geto will be sure that their love for you is expressed to you every chance they get. 

It doesn’t matter the day or hour, whether you are free from assignments, spending time with your roommates, or on your way out to study; those two will find a way to get to be with you. And, to be honest, it can be a bit overstimulating! 

When there are dates to the movies with Gojo, there’s private alone time with Geto on his bed as he eats you out. And when there are days when Geto holds hands with you and walks you to your classes, there are nights when Gojo will fuck you til his cock is warmed inside you in his slumber. It can go either way, the two competing for your affection and time when the other is out of sight. 

Again, sometimes it’s overwhelming for you, never knowing which of the two will have you all to themselves, nor knowing when you can have time to yourself! And it’s not like you haven’t tried putting your foot down to express your wish to be alone. But, albeit it can be utterly exhausting, you know those two love and cherish you so much that it drives them crazy. Hell, it’s driving you crazy just how much they can’t keep their hands off you! 

Especially now when they drag you to their shared dorm room, experiencing one of those days when the two wish to have you in the same presence. 

“Hahhh, damn, Y/n…you’re sucking me off so good,” Geto purrs with a whistle while lovingly patting your head. “So good for me, huh, sweetie?” 

The two stripped you off your clothes to be nude with them on the bed. Your naked frame straddles above Gojo, lying on his back with his face buried into your bare cunt for his mouth and tongue to please you orally. Meanwhile, you suck on Geto’s girth as he leans on the pillows and headboard. It’s his turn after sucking off Gojo (they settled this over rock-paper-scissors) and fingering you to warm you up first.

You whine of his member, Gojo’s tongue doing wonders on your delicate body. He licks on your clit just as you lap yours around Geto’s glans, and then he’ll suck your pearl right as you take in the tip with pursed cheeks. It’s such a mutual shared experience, with how Gojo’s hands wrap to your thighs to keep your chasm on his lips while you have Geto keen to your mouth and hands stroking him. 

“—Khhhh, Jesus Christ…Hohhh, right there, sweetie…” The raven-haired one coos as you kiss your way down to his balls to suck one as you continue to jerk him. “Heh, you doing good down there, Satoru?”

The snow-haired other removes his mouth from your folds, licking your essence that sticks to his lips like honey mixed with his saliva. “Hahaa, you have no idea. I could stay like this for hours,” his tongue licks your come to your clit tantalizingly slow, evoking you to almost choke on Geto’s girth. “Aww, look at you trying to move from me,” Gojo brings your hips back down to him for him to swirl around your labia, his grip on your thighs refusing to submit. “Don’t go anywhere, princess; I’m not finished until you cum on my face again.”

“Ohhh, shit, keep doing what you’re doing, Satoru,” Geto subtly bucks his hips, “I love the way they’re whining on my dick…”

With your puffy lips being busy in the front and your cunt being lapped and nibbled on from below, your senses are clouded by the two boys who seek nothing but your participation in experiencing pleasure. Your head gradually turns into mush with every rut to your throat and every lap around your clitoris. It’s to no surprise that your release seeps out of your body without preparation, crying on Geto’s length as your frame quivers in euphoric bliss. 

And if you think you couldn’t get swamped enough, think again. 

“—Nnngh, fuck, Y/n, you’re gripping on my dick like crazy…Hehe, is it because you can’t look me in the face? Damn, you’re such a cutie…”

Your face is nuzzled in the crook of Gojo’s neck as you’re straddling on top of him, your nude, sweaty bodies melted together to share heat. Your hips bounce up and down on his pelvis, where his rubber-covered length is scraping the walls of your vagina. His left curve grazes and jabs your sweet spots, and your body lies on top of Gojo, which brings more friction to your clitoris. 

“Hahhh, ahhnn—Ohhhh!” Your phrases have doubled down to that of whimpers of pleasure, thinking straight is impossible, and your mind is too deep in a haze to focus on anything outside of what’s happening. And it’s not like you can’t stop your hips from bouncing on his shaft — you’ve tried! But the moment your legs express so much as reluctance or fatigue, Gojo’s hands are right there on your ass to guide you back into the rhythm. So it’s expected when you climax on him once more, clamping onto him as you ride out another orgasmic wave. “Ahhaaa! Sa’toruuu, stooohhp—hic…! I’m ‘oo sens' tiveee!!” 

“You say that, but—hnnn! You’re rocking those hips of yours on your own, baby.” He chuckles at your slurred speech, placing kisses on your cheek as his hands massage your asscheeks. “Holy shit, you feel so unreal; wanna fuck you raw so bad with how tight you are.” 

“Don’t even think about it, Satoru,” you hear Geto’s voice from behind, the dent of the twin-size bed shifting with his added weight. “If I can’t go condom-less, you’re not getting any special treatment out of it either.”

“Psssh, yeah, yeah,” Gojo says with rolled azure eyes before he whispers to your ear. “Come on, angel, let’s get you prepped up.” The white-haired boy’s hands spread your butt, exposing his dick buried deep into your tight slit and your taint.  

Geto grins salaciously. “My, what a dirty sight for me, my love.” You chew your lips to his words, the heat in your ears causing them to ring. You then feel his fingers smothered in lube to meet your asshole, spiraling around it before inserting them one by one. Your holes instinctively contract, making Gojo hiss. “Relax, pretty girl,” he kisses your temple. “We’re gonna make you feel so good.”

You remind your figure to calm down, allowing Geto to play with your anus for it to accommodate the next foreign limb he’ll put inside. Gojo keeps kneading your butt, but he throws furtive thrusts up to your chasm to keep you on your toes. You gasp when Geto removes his digits suddenly, and now you bite your bottom lip at the contact of his cockhead touching your puckered entrance. “Stay calm for me, princess. Gonna go slow just for you…”

Breathing with your mouth is the only way you can function through his insertion; even after he properly lubed himself and the rubber, it never fails to amaze you how you’ve been able to take in his girthy dick times before. Every inch pushed inside you feels as if your breath is pulled away, feeling both your holes become occupied. And your head goes up at the snap of Geto’s pelvis smacking on your ass, mouth agape for drool to sneak down puffy lips. 

“Heh, there you are,” Gojo licks your spit before placing a kiss on your lips. “What a pretty face when you’re going dumb on our dicks, Y/n.”

You couldn’t even reply in modesty because Geto immediately goes pounding your ass with hunger. Your wails come out freely at the pacing of both boys propelling themselves into you. And it doesn’t help that your holes don’t stop contracting on their dicks as they push, the motion making you move your clit against Gojo and having your sore nerves active again. 

“Holy fuck,”Geto drills his cock into your taint, grinding his hips into you to make you whine aloud. He then bends to kiss your sweaty shoulder down to your spine. “You’re so tight, Y/n…like you’re gonna milk me dry.”

Words are exhilarated squeaks and shrills, your arms coming around Gojo’s neck and pressing your hot cheek on his. He snickers at how touchy you are, “Hey, baby,” he coaxes you through the onslaught of ruts that quicken in tempo. “God, you sound so fucking cute, angel…” 

“—Ahhahh…! Ohhh, guysss, pleaseee, slow d—Owwhhnn!!” You cry, eyes watering with the pokes and jabs on your velvety insides, the curve of Gojo scraping you in places you can’t reach, and Geto’s girth having your backside completely stretched for him. It’s all too much to focus on as your delicate bud is pressed on by your weight. “…Nhooo, God, I’m gonna—“

“Gonna cum, cutie?” You nod hurriedly, amusing Gojo for more chuckles. “Let’s cum together, yeah? Such a pretty girl…” And then, Gojo claims your lips for a steamy, passionate kiss, bringing a hand from your bottom to place behind your head to keep you on him. 

“—Hnngh!! Wait, sweetheart, don’t clamp onto me so sudden—Ohh, shit, shit, shiiit,” Black hair strands fall from Geto’s shoulders as he falters at your grip. “Gonna cum, too….Gahhh—“

Your crescendo is the first to appear, howling and mewling into Gojo’s lips while your trembling figure undergoes the shocks of the deep penetration on both ends. The fluttering sensations of your cunt and anus are what prompt the two men to spill their load into you simultaneously, groaning with pleasure from your body. Your head is undoubtedly dizzy, your brain spiraling with impulses as your frame jerks with every wave of your orgasm. 

After his climax is done, Geto slowly withdraws his cock from you. The condom filled with his essence. “Phew, that felt way too good.”

“For real, can’t get enough of this.” Gojo sighs while groping your asscheeks and kissing your forehead. “Ready for another round, baby? C’mon, let’s switch before Suguru gets all crybaby on us.” His sweet tone immediately flips to narrow his eyes at Geto for throwing his used, tied condom at Gojo's face for that comment. “Oh, you disgusting son of a bitch…”

“Shut up and switch, or else I’ll have you watch me pound Y/n for fifteen minutes.”

Being loved and obsessed by the two heartthrobs of the school is no easy work, which is evident when you can’t even get to nap by yourself after the sexual activities. With Gojo spooning Geto while he spoons you, there is no rest with these two; they might as well put collars around their necks and give you their leashes with how smitten they are to be around you.

Yet, at the same time, you don’t hate it — far from that. Because you know their feelings for you are genuine, you can see it in their sleeping faces as they’re probably thinking about you in your dreams as you observe. With a smile, you place kisses on their cheeks and silently leave the bed to use their shower. 

The warm water is just as welcoming and temperate as their love, keeping you safe and washing your anxiousness away. In your thoughts, you reflect on all the times you’ve grown because of them, and it goes to show that their involvement has done substantial help for you. And for that, you are forever grateful for them and will always reciprocate their feelings as you feel the same. 

“Hey, Y/n.”

Well, minus the immediate sense of apprehension that skyrockets once you hear Geto’s voice come behind you. You turn to see his naked self coming towards you to wrap his arms around your waist. “Suguru!? I–I thought you were sleep—“

“I was until you left my arms,” he says to your ear with his dulcet voice, his hands kneading the flesh of your wet hips. “Besides, saves us a lot of time if we share the shower, right?”

“Oh, Y/n~,” another voice enters the bathroom, and your dread plummets even further when Gojo opens the curtains with glee. “Don’t tell me you decided to shower without m—…Oh, you’re here, too.”

“Obviously,” Geto sucks his teeth at his roommate. “I live in this apartment and use this same shower, dumbass.”

Snowy eyebrows crease with irritation as Gojo enters the walk-in shower, sandwiching you between the two. “Well, don’t you think it’s rude for you to use the shower when our guest is using it first?”

“I could be asking you the same thing because who told you to come here?”

“Duh! I’m here to shower with my lover; are you stupid?”

“Are you? Don’t you see a boyfriend is trying to have some alone time with their partner?”

“Oh, eat horse shit.”

“Croak and die.”

You can only stand there and be mushed by the two tall boys arguing over you, unable to flee the scene as they both have their hands on you. Again, you don’t hate it at all. You love them just as much as they love and adore you. They may be the school favorites; however, you are the most precious thing they wish to engage with and want to keep to themselves.

…But would it kill them to give you some room once in a while!?

Jesus, how am I gonna survive with these two…

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Hopelessly Devoted NOT To You | Charles Leclerc x Driver! Reader

Summary: Your family believes in two religions; Ferrari and Charles Leclerc. When you drive for a different F1 team, they make it known who their favourite is. Luckily, Charles’ favourite is you. 

Warnings: a happy functioning family (not sure how to write one of those), fluff, bad flirting

Requested: yes by anon

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its_yn just posted

liked by alpinef1team, charles_leclerc and others

its_yn type of town i could spend a few days in 🌴

18,161 comments

pierregasly before you ask, i’m not helping you steal the hedge car

→ its_yn you never let me do anything fun

→ pierregasly @/alpinef1team can we leave her in miami?

→ alpinef1team only if you drive better than she does 

user1 she makes the alpine pink look so good! 

yourmum so excited to see you race, tesoro

yourdad will our paddock passes let us near the ferrari garage?

→ user2 love how this is her second year in f1 and her father is still a loyal tifoso

→ user3 her whole family are. don't think i've ever seen them wear alpine merch

landonorris the pink helmet makes you look like a highlighter

→ its_yn you can’t say anything, lorax

→ visacashapprb oh god, the girls are fighting 

→ user4 vcarb admin, you will always be famous

yoursister can’t believe i’m going to see a ferrari up close 

yourbrother do you think i’ll meet THE charles leclerc??

→ charles_leclerc if she brings you by the garage, absolutely

→ its_yn merda

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and others

charles_leclerc the city that keeps the roof blazin’ 🌴

16,330 comments

yourdad be good to see you on the podium this weekend, son

user5 not charles matching captions with yn. in his lover boy era

→ user6 i mean, it’s a popular song for miami?

→ user5 trust me, he did it on purpose 

scuderiaferrari our driver is cooler than all others

user7 anyone else in love with the fact that yn isn’t her family’s favourite driver

→ user8 and they make no effort to hide it

→ its_yn they actually told me off once because i overtook him, even tho it lead to my first podium

→ charles_leclerc part of me is inclined to agree with them but your overtake was very nice

→ user9 stand up, charles

yourbrother the aura is unmatched. why don’t you look this cool on race weekends @/its_yn?

user10 yn’s whole family being tifosi is so special to me

→ user11 they’re italian. ferrari and charles are their religion

yourmum my daughter is single if you’re interested? liked by charles_leclerc

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

its_yn posted a new story

yoursister replied i worked really hard on that cake. show some respect → its_yn you only get props for it tasting good → yoursister i bet charles tastes good → its_yn that is my work colleague!  → yoursister bangeable work colleague → don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it

charles_leclerc replied i think red really suits you  → its_yn don’t you start. they’ve spent the entire night asking me when i’m going to join ferrari  → charles_leclerc isn’t your contract up this year? → its_yn are you trying to make my cry on my birthday?? → charles_leclerc no, no. i just mean, any team would be lucky to have you → i’d beg ferrari to take you if we hadn’t already signed lewis  → its_yn i might have to start begging someone to take me at this point → charles_leclerc you can have my car if you wear red more often → its_yn how about you just lend me a t-shirt sometime? → charles_leclerc if you come over, i have a whole wardrobe you can go through

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

mercedesamgf1 just posted

liked by valterribottas, kimi.antonelli and others

mercedesamgf1 we're so excited to announce that yn ln has joined the mercedes petronas family for 2025 on a multi year contract

44,634 comments

pierregasly i’m free!

→ its_yn you’re bald! 

yourdad tesoro, you are italian, not german. why are you doing this to the family?

yourbrother well done, sis. now grandma is crying. this is not what we agreed upon

yoursister i told you that mercedes green doesn’t suit your complexion. ferrari red does

user1 not yn’s entire family crying in the comments

user2 getting to the point where i don’t think they’re joking

→ yourbrother we did congratulate her privately. we just had to scribble out the ferrari on the banner

georgerussell63 i take it i won’t be invited to ln family dinners? 

→ landonorris only happens if your name is charles leclerc

user3 maybe ferrari didn’t want her?

→ charles_leclerc how dare you!

its_yn at least this way, @/charles_leclerc and i can continue our enemies to lovers arc

→ maxverstappen1 @/charles_leclerc was that loud scream from across the paddock you?

→ lewishamilton he can’t reply. he’s passed out on the garage floor. the mechanics are currently trying to revive him

→ user4 can’t blame him. yn finally acknowledged how obsessed he is with her

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton and others 

charles_leclerc my girl looks good in red 

27,876 comments

its_yn ❤️❤️

pierregasly you two sicken me

→ its_yn your hairline sickens me

→ pierregasly @/charles_leclerc dump her

→ charles_leclerc never

user5 charles is just showing men that if you act obsessed enough, it’ll work out

→ yourbrother i think him being unbelievably handsome had something to do with it

scuderiaferrari does this mean you’ll stop talking about her every weekend? 

→ charles_leclerc probably not

→ its_yn you might just see me in the garage more

→ yourdad and us! 

yourmum oh it’s happening! it’s finally happening. i’ll bring the wedding book with me next weekend

→ its_yn no! you promised never to show any one that

→ yourmum but now it’s not just my fantasy, it’s real

→ charles_leclerc yes, please. i’ll bring mine as well

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

Requests open. Now accepting requests for Estie Bestie

Can you tell I'm on the side of twitter that jokes about Gasly having a turkey transplant for his hair?

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25 @sillyfreakfanparty @justaf1girl @piastri-fvx @teamnovalak

[norrisainz33]

indy || po5

summary: after working a fellowship with mclaren f1 team, you get offered your dream job but the only catch is…. they’re actually sending you to indiana

pairing: pato o'ward x nonfamous!!reader

fc & warnings: becky g kinda and poorly translated spanish and very minor bad language

requested: yes!! omg my first pato fic and request! wahoooo!!!

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

ynuser has made a post

liked by friend1, friend2, yourbff, yoursibling, friend3, friend4, and 543 others

ynuser: AMIGAS!!!! i landed my dream job!!! say hello to arrow mclaren's newest full time photographer!! but please be for real with me rn how many aura points am i losing by moving to indiana………

view all comments

friend1: ay dios mío. indianapolis??? wHY

ynuser: no ik BUT why NOT!?

yourbff: i’m so proud of you hermosa chica

ynuser: gracias mi amor

friend2: ngl homie …. a decent amount of aura points

ynuser: ok…. and if i said i actually applied to work in the uk with the mclaren f1 team but they said actually we wanna send you to indycar instead then would i gain any back?

friend2: now hold on you should’ve lead with that

yoursibling: nooooooo you’re leaving me to go to INDIANA?!

ynuser: visit me loser

yoursibling: no!

friend3: too busy looking at how hot you are to even react to the caption

ynuser: 😘😘😘😘😘

friend4: congrats bb girl

ynuser: gracias 🤍

ynuser has made a post

liked by friend2, friend1, yourbff, yoursibling, patriciooward, nolansiegel, davidmalukas, arrowmclaren, and 895 others

ynuser: shes beauty, shes grace, shes me trying to figure out what an overcut is (send help) 😌😌 had the best weekend in st pete! thanks for having me florida xx

view all comments

friend1: the way i have followed all indycar and arrow mclaren socials despite not even know what an indy car is just to see all the amazing pics mi amiga takes

ynuser: fan behavior! jk love you bebe

arrowmclaren: welcome to the team y/n!

ynuser: thank you arrowmclaren! couldn't be happier to be here

patriciooward: i'll teach you! solo di cuándo [just say when]

ynuser: 🤯 say less

yoursibling: oh so you'll invite me to indiana but not florida? fake

ynuser: ungrateful for the invite to my new home so no fun trips for youuuuuuu

yourbff: ok hermosa, lo que digas! [ok gorgeous, whatever you say]

ynuser: 😘😘

nolansiegel: great to meet you this weekend y/n! thanks for the sick pics

ynuser: likewise nolan!! ofc its literally my job

user1: so you're the photographer who took those perfect pics for me and my friends!! thank you for being so kind and for indulging us 🤍

ynuser: omg of course!! you guys had the cutest outfits there was no way i wasn't going to photograph xx

ynuser has posted to their private story

view all story replies

friend2: now hold up..... who dis?

ynusr: heheheheh a driver for mclaren

friend2: he can drive right into me fr

ynuser: ASFGNKF jajajajaja

yourbff: oh you weren't kidding he handsome handsome

ynuser: painfully so.... and he's so nice?? and funny?? and speaks spanish??? and laughed at all my jokes???? and said i looked pretty????? and explained all of indycar to me????

yourbff: nah im OUT

ynuser: he was like lowkey flirting and im freaking out

yourbff: DETAILS NOW

ynuser: well we went out for drinks after our media day here in long beach so he could give me a rundown of indycar right? and like it started professional but after a drink or two he put his hand on the back of my chair, leaned in way closer than necessary and started asking me all these questions about myself instead. like?? sir?? and the whole time his thumb was just casually rubbing little circles on my back like it was nothing??? i was trying to remember the different tire types and he’s over casually giving me bedroom eyes like its nothing. and MAYBE IT IS IDK!!!!

yourbff: i'm speechless. no one casually acts like that w out something behind it no no

ynuser: thats what im saying

yourbff: have you talked since?

ynuser: yes he texted me and said AND I QUOTE: "i really enjoyed getting to know you. lets do this again."

yourbff: i was JUST wearing my pants. no idea where they have gone.

yourbff: he wants you. only explanation.

ynuser: girl pls 😭😭😭😭😭😭

yoursibling: now you're posting a MAN ?! ay dios mío

ynuser: you will never let me live

friend3: your ability to make friend with everyone is incredible. i am so jealous of you

ynuser: omg stoppp

friend4: blah blah blah proper name back story

ynuser: you get it

friend5: i thought we were team penske in this house

ynuser: idk who house your in but it ain't mine!

paticiooward has added to his story

view all comments

user2: WHO THIS I INOW THAY AINT MY GIRL ELBA

frosenqvist: this who i think it is?

patriciooward: the chica i was talking about? yes 😏

frosenqvist: ohhhhh making moves huh?

patriciooward: if you mean getting her her favorite coffee and making her giggle then yes

frosenqvist: perfect

user4: PATITOT WHI IS THIS

davidmalukas: oh !

patriciooward: 😊

user5: ok so i’m gonna go camp at this coffee shop now

ynuser: omg not the candid what is this……. ugh at least i look good here

patriciooward: you look good everywhere

ynuser: omg 🥹 gracias pato

patriciooward: de nada y/n/n

user9: pato please don’t do this to me. i thought we had something special

nolansiegel: elba looks different here

patriciooward: hehe you know it’s not elba

nolansiegel: so things are going well with your girl then?

patriciooward: yes they are 😉

ynuser has posted to their private story

view all story replies

friend1: you look incredible

ynuser: thank you my love ❤️‍🔥

friend2: CAN HE FIGHT BC I WANT YOU

ynuser: honestly i don’t think he can but he won’t have to bc i’m all yours mi amiga

nolansiegel: omg bestie im a private story bestie i could cry

ynuser: you do realize you’re my favorite person in all of indiana right?

nolansiegel: omg this literally made my day i dont think you understand

nolansiegel: now tell me…… is this outfit for a certain teammate of mine 🤨

ynuser: 😔 maybe

nolansiegel: well between you and me that teammate can’t stop talking about how excited he is

ynuser: 😭😭😭😭😭

yourbff: YES YES YES A MILLION TIMES YES

ynuser: yayyyyy gracias!!

patriciooward: damn what other man is taking you out today

ynuser: haha ……. you weren’t supposed to see this i’m gonna die of embarrassment

patriciooward: oh so there is another man?! WHO?! nolan?! david m? JASON FROM FINANCE?!

ynuser: pato please 😭 the only person i’m going on a date with today is you

patricioooward: well in that case your outfit is perfect 😍😫 can’t believe you think i’m the hottest man you’ve ever seen

ynuser: i’m so embarrassed 😔😭 (but you are i can’t lie)

patriciooward: good thing i can’t lie either because i do think you’re the hottest woman i’ve ever seen

ynuser: ay dios mío stopppppp 😭😭😭

friend4: beautiful gorgeous perfect

ynuser: 🤍🤍🤍🤍

yoursibling: you look HOT however i find it horrifying that you’re letting a man take you out

ynuser: it is alarming ik but hes not just any man my dear

ynuser has made a post

liked friend1, arrowmclaren, yourbff, davidmalukas, froseqvist, friend2, yoursibling, friend3, coltonherta, logansargeant, and 4,329 others

ynuser: life is truly crazy because one minute you're crying about moving to a new town and the next you're working your dream job and taking pictures of your situationship going over 200 mph like its no big deal

view all comments

friend3: did i miss a chapter here 🤨

ynuser: i’ll call you 😌

davidmalukas: wait im in these pics can i be your situationship too?

ynuser: i mean…..

patriciooward: watch it both of you

friend2: tea tea tea

ynuser: 🤯

patriciooward: oh who that in the number 5 car?

ynuser: mmm just some guy idk

patriciooward: sabes que soy mucho más que un chico cualquiera. [you know i'm much more than just some guy]

user3: love your photos!!

ynuser: 🥹🥹 thank you

yourbff: oh so we’ve upgraded to situationship now?

ynuser: maybe 🫨

patriciooward: she’s playing hard to get 🙄 i thought she was my girlfriend

ynuser: i’m calling hr

yourbff: let’s not fight children

user2: i wish indycar had gossip pages like f1 bc this interaction would be doing insane numbers

yoursibling: wait why you kinda famous who are all these ppl

ynuser: i’m gonna blow up and act like i don’t know you

yoursibling: i believe it

arrowmclaren: we’re so glad you moved to the new city

ynuser: me too 🧡

user5: waitttt you are living the actual dream

ynuser: i am incredibly lucky 🧡

patriciooward has made a post

liked by lando, arrowmclaren, ynuser, yourbff, friend1, user2, user3, user4 and 184,246 others

patriciooward: we gave it everything out there for a beautiful p1! gracias por todo y gracias a mi novia por dejarme publicarla. dejó de hacerse la difícil 😉 [thank you for everything and thank you to my girlfriend for letting me post her. she stopped playing hard to get!]

view all comments

user1: felicitaciones!

yourbff: you can tell which pics she took and which one someone else took 😭

patriciooward: the professional was a bit busy in that second shot 😉

ynuser: orgullosa de ti 🧡 [proud of you]

patriciooward: gracias mi amor

lando: congrats on a strong weekend mate!

patriciooward: thanks champ!

user2: naurrrrrrrrrr you have a girlfriend?! congrats ig

frosenqvist: got the girl and the win! let’s go!

patriciooward: yes sir 😉

elbaoward: obsessed with everything about this 🤍

patriciooward: me too 😍

arrowmclaren: that’s our driver!!! [liked by patriciooward]

user4: wahooo patoooooooo

ynuser has made a post

liked by friend1, yourbff, patriciooward, elbaoward, nolansiegel, frosenqvist, yoursibling and 9,345 others

ynuser: dream job lead me to my dream man who woulda thought! patitio te amo mucho 🧡

view all comments

yourbff: que románticaaaaaaaa 😍 [how romantic]

ynuser: si si mami

user2: violently sobbing. i wish my job led me to pato oward [liked by ynuser]

nolansiegel: woohooo!! best hard launch ever

ynuser: thanks for the constant hype noly

patriciooward: why didnt i get the same nice comment from you nolan?

ynuser: bc he likes me more :)

nolansiegel: that is true unfortunately! pato who?

patriciooward: W O W

patriciooward: yo tambien te amo bebe [i love you too baby]

ynuser: siempre y para siempre [always and forever]

yoursibling: we've lost a real one chat

ynuser: or gained one depending on how you look at it

frined3: YYEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSS [liked by ynuser]

friend4: i wanna be you when i grow up please

ynuser: and you can be easy peasy

user5: imma need you to post a story time about how you broke into motorsports and became a wag at the same time bc you are the blueprint [liked by ynuser]

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

a/n: thanks for reading! likes and reblogs are always appreciated.

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[invincibledc]

Now that I have ur permission to request, I was wondering if it could be a batfam/invincible x magical boy reader (magical boys are just magical girls but dudes) it can be headcanons or a small drabble, doesn't matter!

(Anyway I'll be waiting in the basement 🕶🦯)

𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐦/𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐱 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

A/N: doing both because I love them both!

BATFAMILY—

If reader/you were to say the spells out loud, the family would try to see if you can try to do them some other way for your safety. If it’s not possible, than maybe how about you say the spells softly low

Your own batfamily suit is so cool! It has back up weapon that holds your magic incase your magical weapon snaps and have it regenerate, so it’s a win win that Bruce is considerate 

Bruce, the man himself sees you as a son. So of course expect a little bit of bossiness and control about where you go, what you eat, and how your performance is with missons

Although, Bruce is amazed by your abilities, especially your spells. He’ll test how much you know about your spells and analyze what each can do be helpful during serious things.

Lastly, he’s a good guy that makes sure you also have a good “normal” life outside of your magical business.

Jason is the type of guy to ask for you do a magic trick, and it literally the most classic “magic” trick in the world as you make an apple disappear or maybe pull a bunny out of no where.

Course zatanna and you are best friends! You both are different kind of magic users but are still powerful. Zatanna is mostly shocked that you are.. a magical boy.. cause like she never heard of that before so of course she is interested in you (platonic ofc)

And Raven? She’s chill about it! You could be doing something by her as you hum whilst she meditates to keep her powers in control

If you were the kind of magical boy to be like “i honestly wants this shit to be done” with a quick transformation of your outfit and immediately one shooting an enemy.. any one around the radius would be shocked to see that

Dick is literally the same as Jason, “do a magic trick!” He exclaims as he sits on the couch and watches you sighed in an annoyance as you pulled a quarter from his ear out of pity

He fakes shock before clapping his hands as he just kept that stupid grin on his face. But other than that, he at least supports of you if you do wanna be a at a kid’s party to show off your own tricks.

Dick always shows you designs of his own about your magical boy outfit, honestly is your number one supporter

Tim side eyes you everytime you transform cause it’s so dramatic, like bro is holding his staff as he just stares at the glowing light blinding his eyes. But either wise, he would just use that blinding light to “STRIKEE!!” a hoe when the foe is stricken by your glowing body

Tim using you as a glow stick, or maybe your wand as you run up and smack his head as he uses it during a power outage

You and tim are an odd duo that don’t be around each other as much, but always make things work with duo combos

Damian pitys you due to how he sees your whole being as pathetic, that was til you hit killer croc with the hardest beaming blast of his life

Soon he magically clings to you like a black cat that doesn’t like anyone but you, he literally tugs on your clothing to show you some drawings of you in a sparkling aura having your magical weapon

Shows Jon you, and Jon starts to fanboy over you whilst you have two young child just gushing over how cool you are to them now.

It’s a shocker really

INVINCIBLE—

Honestly, you’re in teen team, there’s so many coool people with such cool powers! And then there’s you in your “magical” outfit as Rex makes fun of you. Saying how “girlish” you seem whilst Eve and mark try to comfort you.

Rex was soon turned into a frog, smirking as he croaks in distress.

Rex never doubted you again, but after the whole shot in the head gig happened, he was one of the dudes that just got along with you. “Oh that guy? Yeah he can make you shit sparkles, watch out.”

If you had a magical weapon that helps along with your magical boy persona, you can bet mark is swooping in as you yelled in anger about your broken weapon that will have to regenerate in 24 hours now

Mark and the others, mostly mark, scolds you for relying on some “stupid” staff

Eve being your best girl friend as you both hang out, mark is a great guy. He would always make sure you’re okay, and always see what kinda other spells you can do.

If your magical boy transformation changed your whole appearance like hair, eyes, or just like height, the team will be shocked when you’re out of your appearance and look so… normal.

You’re more of a support than on the team, sure you can fight and handle battles with those deadly or passive attack spells, but you’re on the sideline of things

Debbie wasn’t sure about some magic boy in her house, but seeing how Oliver likes you and mark loves you around. She invites you at any chance for dinner

Meanwhile Cecil has plans for if you turn against him, of course if you went rouge and not just “hey, I quit.” Type of against him ofc

Either way. You and Oliver are such gremlins

“Can you turn mark into a frog?” Is what Oliver asked you the first moment you told him how you turned rex into one.

Chasing mark with Oliver was fun!

Eve finds it so funny when you turn any guy trying to harass her into a horse , just to actually call them a horse face.

Imagine mark watching your transformation and just clapping supportively as you flex off your new “hero” costume

The variants, they stare at you weird. You don’t exist in any of their worlds. You’re an anomaly, something that shouldn’t be alive, something that shouldn’t even breathe when you blast one variant from you with a beam that actually hurts him. And he’s supposed to be… invincible.

THANKS FOR READING!!

[takes1]

tsukishima and yamaguchi are incapable of sharing you

is this a big metaphor? maybe. i dunno. it's steamier this way. read between the lines or something. two weeks of having a cold? or covid? or the flu? idk what it was but it burnt me outttttt

warnings. suggestive, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / suggestive fluff / love triangle? love shape? / fighting over reader / unrequited crushes / suggestive touching / touch starved!tsukki / touch starved!yamaguchi / sports massage, hot / best friends / girls team!reader / sadomasochism clawed its way into my fluff fic / tsukki is transactional / boyfriend material!yamaguchi / brotherzoning, friendzoning / daichi has canon aura / 4.1k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines.

"Oh, wow--," Tsukishima's cruel and quiet snicker at your expense was inevitable. He pushed one side of his headphones off of his ear.

His brow raised in amusement at your exaggerated wobble, how you were unable to stand on your own.

Yamaguchi kept his arms stretched out for you to grab and help yourself up, a master at utilizing any excuse he could to hold you.

"Isn't this- I dunno- kind of excessive?"

He sighed, palms flat against your back as you stumbled into his chest.

He expressed no real urgency to let you go. The guy was -generally- touchy with all of his friends, so it was never worth raising any color flag over.

"We-- hah-h," You gripped his forearm when you tried to take another excruciating step on your own. You sunk to the floor so fast he didn't even think to try and catch you.

It spurred another rare, genuine laugh from Tsukishima.

You cleared your throat with some attitude, and attempted to gather your dignity before trying to get up again.

"-We did lose."

Now, especially, you could truly appreciate his tendency to help. This practice had been group punishment for losing your last big game.

Sparing the gruesome details, it left most of the first-years in horrible condition. Even the more experienced girls on the team were ambling away at a slower pace, wincing, under the weight of their own bodies and struggling to take one step down from the gymnasium.

"(Y/n)!!"

You all stiffened. That was Michimiya's voice- you thought all the upperclassmen had gone, but she popped her head out from the exit and sounded just as intimidating as usual.

"Yes ma'am?" You called, a grimace all over your face.

The two boys shifted further away. They weren't technically supposed to be here, yet, and kept their heads tilted to the floor, expecting to be scolded for not going straight home.

"Head to the training room and roll your legs out-- I need you better before Friday! You two--," She hesitated before telling them to leave, vaguely aware that you were all buddies. "Help her, please."

"Yes ma'am!!"

Just like that, she was gone. Your eyes were shining. You were needed. For the team.

"Oh my gosh..." You bit your lip.

"That's awesome!" Yamaguchi laughed, excited for you. If Daichi had told him something like that, he'd be over-the-moon happy.

Tsukishima crossed his arms, unable to relate, and now tied to this place even longer.

He didn't validate your silent request to be helped. He only came across as cruel, but his real reason was objectively worse.

Thankfully, Yamaguchi was there to fill in the gaps of his awkward, ill-timed difficulty. You smiled at his light concern, an 'okay' of sorts to let him know he could find your condition funny, too.

"Th-anks-- hh-ah... shit,"

It was so much worse now. You wished you had listened to your teammates, to not sit down ten minutes ago, no matter how much you felt like you needed to.

Tsukishima watched, hands deep in his pockets with no intention to be of free service. That sound of struggle was almost as satisfying as hearing you ask for help.

You didn't let go of his hands for a few seconds. The weight of your body was a lot to handle- you kept his palms squeezed hard in yours and were beyond grateful he stayed, unbothered by it.

They were technically tasked with getting you to the training room, but you only had faith that Yamaguchi would see it through. Tsukishima might go as far as to get on the first train home, all alone, because that's how much he hated waiting on other people.

Yamaguchi, however, shared in your experience. His eyes were bright and his smile always waiting to agree, or laugh, or ask you something.

"Can ya walk?" He giggled.

His freckled hands stayed, attentive, at your sides, as you laughed with him and tried.

Moving was doable, but only in little, shuffle-y, painful, half-steps. Your hamstrings were like guitar strings, pulled too tight from your ass to your knees, your quads as stiff as set concrete, and everything was burning hot to the touch. You worked up another sick sweat, just moving 20 steps.

The two friends shared a look as they slowed down for you. It was worse than they thought- and though they had confided in you earlier, telling you that this was normal, they weren't exactly sure anymore. They hadn't yet been pushed this hard at their own team practices (they actually won their games).

Tsukishima's chortle was mean, targeted, in nature.

"Am I gonna have to carry you?"

Your exhaustion blocked any of your usual retaliation. The suggestion was, unironically, very appealing. He had to ability to take some pain away and was 'offering.'

"Oh!" You groaned, palm on your hip after taking a few tiny steps to get to the wall, "Would you? Please?"

It caught him off guard for an imperceivable second.

He rolled his eyes, his fair skin inadequate cover for the blush you had inspired.

Yet, always the master of masking his emotions, he swung his body in the direction of the training room to evade suspicion, instead, "Hell no."

The multiuse training room was thankfully spared of any life, except for you three clowns. There wasn't even the athletic trainer, paid to stay later for hurt athletes. Most teams were finished up already and all the gear -the weights, the tires, the specialty equipment- was in its proper place.

You glanced to Tsukishima, who was second to make the connection that this was an even bigger waste of his time-- unable to take the sound of him picking on you again, you waved your hand at him, dismissive at his catty sigh.

"You can go home, Tsukki, I know you've got better things to do."

Yamaguchi smirked at the light pink that dusted the fair tips of his ears. He followed close behind you towards the mats, near the recovery gear.

'Reverse-psychology' almost always worked on him, outside of a match.

"Pff- whatever," He cleared his throat, shoving his hands even deeper into his pockets, "It's not a big deal or anything."

It was, in fact, a big deal.

You couldn't take even the softest of featherlight touches, or stretches, or damn near anything that was suggested by your teammates to try.

"You can't just give up," Yamaguchi said, softly, trying to encourage you to try the massage gun again.

"You're just being a crybaby--," Tsukishima shrugged, as if he didn't insult you, and took the thing in his hand, "If you can't do it, one of us should."

Without a second of hesitation, you swiped it from him. That thing was a weapon, with the wrong head attachment and in the hands of somebody with as little sympathy as him.

"Yamaguchi-!" You grew warm, handing it to the nicer of the two, "If- um, one of you has to do it for me. I want Yamaguchi to."

It was the most efficient tool for the job prescribed to you. Break up the lactic acid, promote healing, warm the muscle up for some stretching.

That list seemed so much simpler when pain was not part of the picture.

Having one them subject you to forced recovery was, regrettably, more doable than trying it on yourself. That didn't mean that it was easy.

Yamaguchi knelt atop your legs whilst you lay on your stomach, trying his best to ignore your pleas (as you had asked of him). He kept your leg still as he prodded the machine into your damaged tissue.

It was excruciating. Why did you play this sport?

"Stop-stopstopstop!!"

At last, your begging was met with a precious grain of sympathy. Yamaguchi looked nothing short of conflicted, unable to help without hurting you, but unwilling to let you leave without doing what needed to be done.

He gritted his teeth and looked back at you- to check if you were okay, because you weren't saying anything.

The rapid rise and fall of your ribcage was all he needed to see.

"I'm sorry- I-I can't--,"

He groaned, not knowing what to do, and set the massage gun down by your left leg.

"Oh- my- godddd." The blond boy groaned, horribly impatient in an instant.

The sound of the machine getting turned back on made you jump, but you got squished down before you could even think that there was a need to move faster.

Tsukishima sat backwards on top of you. He wasn't using his entire weight but it was enough to keep you immobile in the ways that mattered. Your muscles seized against your will at the primal realization that he was not going to be nearly as gentle or attentive.

Your shrieking become muffled in your sleeves, but it would've gone just as ignored if you hadn't taken that initiative.

"What are you doing?" Yamaguchi sighed, a bit mean and confused at how he just took over instead of talking about it first.

If he was doing something wrong, he at least wanted the chance to fix it. But that wouldn't fly in this company. Tsukishima was never the type to give people, even his best friend, that much faith.

"I wanna go home dude. I'm--,"

His pressure on the inside of your calf sent you into a full-on seize. He flew to keep your ankle to the ground with a pissed off groan and a heavy thump.

"-Getting- this done."

"You don't have to help!"

Yamaguchi was technically yelling at him, but it didn't sound like it. His voice was raised, a tiny bit louder than the massage gun, and that was about it. It was almost impossible for him to come across as angry. Maybe passive-aggressive, which was, admittedly, jarring enough.

He was met with a signature scoff but didn't back down from it. Yamaguchi had too many reasons not to shy away. If he was that bothered by staying longer, he could go home alone. The chance to hang out with you alone, not to mention the perfect opportunity to touch you, wasn't lost on either of them. Tsukishima knew about his feelings for you. Until now, it was never a topic that needed to be explicitly addressed.

Tsukishima threw a narrowed, cold look through his lashes to him.

That was oh-so-intentional, and a painful thing to process as he barks at you to stop whining so much. His hands are giant, wrapped all the way around your shins, weighing you further down so you can't kick.

You were almost getting used to it- how much it hurt- as you feel Yamaguchi settle next to you and place a reassuring hand on your back.

You're panting, hoarse and labored- you were going to thank him, but Tsukishima makes his way up to your hamstring and you flinch again with your face slammed back into your arms.

"Augh-! Dude!! Ha--Ah!"

Absolutely no remorse in his voice, "Tadashi, c'mere and hold her ankle. I can't do both."

They shared another charged glare behind your back, but Yamaguchi wasn't going to intentionally make things more difficult than they had to be. He wanted to go home too, and wanted you to feel better quicker- this was a necessary evil.

Part of your hoodie sleeve was soaking wet from where you were biting down, grimacing. You were slick with cold sweat, trembling, and could not wrap your head around how torturous this whole ordeal had become.

For a moment, just one tiny, fleeting moment, he took the machine off and you were able to gasp in a non-labored breath. He adjusted to sit on top of your butt (without asking if you were comfortable) and slipped a warm hand between your thighs to grasp your inner leg to keep you still. Yamaguchi's grip on your ankle felt after that- harder.

The pleasant sensation it sent down into your tummy became quickly interrupted by the worst of it.

"Mm-h-!!" You groaned into your clothes.

"Ohh- yeah, you're fucked," Tsukishima laughed in shock at how he could feel the tension, the spasms, under the skin once he placed that godforsaken thing back onto you.

You mostly blocked the rest of the experience out of your mind- it was nauseating, and long, and arduous. Tsukishima made no efforts to make the process any easier by asking you what you wanted, if you needed a break, or if you were okay.

It made the last of it that much sweeter. The training room was quiet, again, once the buzzing was gone.

"That should do it," He muttered, pushing the heel of his palm down the now compliant, though aching, muscle of your hamstring. It was practically mindless.

"Y-eah-," Yamaguchi rolled his eyes at the shameless display.

Tsukishima glanced at him. He cleared his throat and pinched you, just for good measure, then decided for you, "Yeah, that feels better."

You rolled your cloudy eyes just to yourself, unable to lift your head from your weak arms.

"Okay! Jeez! Get off of me."

Another ill-intentioned snicker was almost enough to make you look back. It, instead, only motivated you to tense up your shoulders.

"Did you forget that you have a second leg?"

Yamaguchi would've laughed with him, had he not been so pissed off that he was getting- for lack of a better word here- cucked.

Barely able to peel your chest up off of the ground, you huffed and pushed the stagnant tears from your face.

"You are not doing that again!"

It was another way of saying that you couldn't take it, which, in his twisted mind, was reason enough to smile. He had to adjust himself pretty plainly in front of his freckled, grumpy friend before getting off of you.

You rolled, heavy and slow, onto your back, and didn't spare him any looks. You spoke to the ceiling. "I'll do my own calf. Tadashi,"

His face was softer, attentive, at how you sighed his name. Every word afterward was a lot sweeter, lighter, than the ones that were meant for Tsukishima.

"You get my other hamstring. I can't reach it."

Now 'unemployed,' Tsukishima reclined against his bag, pushed his headphones up, and played on his phone.

You flipped back onto your tummy and pulled down on the hem of your shorts, for some bit of decency. All it did was make Yamaguchi's eyes wander. Tsukishima had already been stealing crystal clear glances.

Those practice shorts left little to the imagination, especially hiked up the way you liked to wear them for training. It did not go underappreciated in this group.

Yamaguchi tried not to stare- he really, really tried. His eyes were bouncing back and forth between where to adjust over you, and where he desperately wanted to cop a feel. It's just that you were turned around, with no way of knowing, and there was nothing too wrong with looking.

Neither of them were bold enough to bring up that your glutes -realistically- were the most worked muscle group that needed to be attended to.

Yamaguchi mirrored his hand placement to where Tsukishima had done it, earlier. He was not prepared at how intimate it felt at all, because his friend had given zero indication that it was such a big deal.

You flinched at the contact even though it was hundred times softer than you had been touched earlier. His palm was unsure, and varied in firmness as he tried to palm your thigh the 'right' way. You were grateful nobody -especially that blond idiot- could see how embarrassed you were, as you buried the side of your face harder into your clothes.

"I'm gonna try to be less gentle- so," He lost his train of thought, captivated in the sight of your softness filling the gaps of his long, tanned fingers, "Um... yeah."

Not-gentle was a good way to describe that massage gun on your stiff leg. But it wasn't a stabbing pain, like how forcefully and suddenly Tsukishima had started.

And yet, you couldn't help the reflex to bend at the knee, and almost nailed him with a powerful kick.

"A-ah! Sorry--," You couldn't quite get the apology out, between gritted teeth.

Since Tsukishima had been too busy peeking out of the corner of his eye to admire the space between your legs, the curve of your ass, and all the shaking, he was quick to grab that free ankle and pin it down.

They shared a mutually surprised expression behind you that, if anything, helped ease their nasty, competitive, and degrading attitudes.

Yamaguchi's face was very warm, his legs, his grip, had to be readjusted-- his fingers felt indescribably good in the midst of so much discomfort. He put more of his weight on you, having underestimated how much you might throw him off.

Neither of the two were saints, but if it were a competition, Yamaguchi at least tried to repress things.

He wanted to be seen as good, as nice, and sweet. Getting brother-zoned all the time sucked but at least it spoke to his positive qualities.

Tsukishima did not care all that much about looking like a good person. Being 'cool' was different, and just as performative, but still, different. He had less internal struggle when it came to checking you out behind your back; his only worry was getting caught, because it made him look interested. Being interested, to Tsukishima, was worse than being a 'nice guy.'

All that to say: He pushed your ankle a bit further to the outside, craning his neck to see just how much those safety shorts actually covered down there.

If he could get Yamaguchi to move his hand out of the way--

"You're doin' it wrong," He sighed, sounding flat- bored, even though he wasn't.

You spared Yamaguchi the responsibility of responding to him.

"You're- ahh- ridiculous, Kei. Fucking-- ridiculous."

His nose wrinkled at your assertion that he could possibly be wrong, "The fact that you can talk is evidence enough."

That made your face multiple degrees hotter, and kept you biting a rude reply into your shirt- it pissed your nicer friend off, on your behalf.

"Dude, shut up," Yamaguchi mumbled.

It was ironically something that sounded like it would come out of Tsukishima's mouth, in tone and phrase. He could've told either of you to shut up at any given moment, on any given day, and it wouldn't be a big deal. Coming from Yamaguchi, though--

The blond stiffened, his mouth curled into an absurd grin, but his eyes were fixed and brutal behind his glasses.

All the implications under their words, their jagged tones, were so plain and out in the open. To them. You remained disadvantaged, partially deaf (from the loud massage gun) and mostly blind (turned around), still preoccupied with your physical inability to stay on their conversational level or that emotional space.

To you, they were only trying to help, and the situation had not degraded so much.

You were busy thinking about how Tsukishima could not have been more wrong about Yamaguchi's 'technique.' The pressure had grown, making for a more intense experience than before, with all the new compensation.

An awful, bitter comeback was on the tip of Tsukishima's tongue.

"Woah!" A new voice, one you didn't quite recognize, was at the entrance to the training room, "What're you three still doing here? It's late!"

"Daichi!" Yamaguchi sighs, breathless, for a couple of different reasons.

You winced at his weird readjustment on top of you- and the terrible, sinking feeling that this was inappropriate and semi-public.

Was there no safe place for a bunch of underclassmen to hang out anymore? Since when did the seniors linger for this long? They usually were the some of first out the door, and the guys' team had been done for almost an hour, now.

His grip softens, flittering away, for a moment. A rush of strength finds his legs and he's safely hovering, instead of sitting, on you.

"Oh! Taking turns with the gun? Man-," Even his laugh is leader-like, all punctuated and deep, "Must be pretty bad, huh?"

When he clocks that their captain isn't there to scold, he keeps one palm safely on the mat, instead.

"Do you--," You push yourself up to your elbows again with a groan and a scrunched up face. It helps, to reiterate that this is not some kind of debauchery, "-Have any advice?"

Daichi was there to return some gear. He placed a bag on the table closest to the door, then hung up some keys. All that you could think was how responsible he looked.

He hummed aloud to himself, "Advice...?"

Yamaguchi slowly moved off of you, so as to not look suspicious, but his nervous demeanor always made him look a little bit guilty of something. You waved off his soft apology in favor of staring, curious, at the new presence.

You were able to roll over to your back and sit up, with marked effort- then stilled as their team captain joined your spot on the mats.

He took a second to look between all three of you, face impossible to read, then seemed to recognize you.

"You must be that rookie Yui was talking about," He doesn't realize how important that off-handed statement means to you, "It's nice to meet ya."

"You too," Your voice was ghostly soft, eyes wide, when he sat down to take you through some handy stretches.

His team jacket looks really worn in. His thighs are giant from years of playing. He knows what he's talking about. And your two idiot friends are silent, for once, so he must be super cool. You listen very carefully.

"So, if it's just soreness that you're dealing with, what you wanna do is--,"

"Man-," Tsukishima mutters, an incomprehensible 'What the fuck,' under his breath at those stupid puppy dog eyes you were giving their team captain. Great.

He threw a glance to Yamaguchi- his face was all screwed up, pissed off, too. They looked at each other with mutual, gloomy attitude.

Little did they understand that Daichi could've broken this up in a less civil way if he deemed them as any less credible in their actions.

It was their 'harmlessness' that kept them spared from a talking-to.

You were slower to understand that you were infatuated. As your long-time friends, they often read you quicker than you could understand your own emotions. It had been three minutes since the last time you blinked, and you didn't realize it, yet.

His stretches, and little tidbits of advice, rang familiar but more memorable than the second-year's recovery tips from the end of your practice.

"Thank you," You muttered, uncharacteristically quiet.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes so far back, so slow, that Daichi caught it.

"Of course! Happy to help."

You watched the incredible lines in his legs dance as he stood up and briefly wondered if he had ever suffered like this, before. Surely the answer was yes.

"Well-- It's great seeing you all take care of each other. Hang onto that!" Daichi kept one last, somewhat reminiscent, look on the three of you, and was on his way to the door.

"Oh-,"

You shivered, holding yourself as he turned around.

"Make sure to lock up when you're done!"

When he was gone, the door fully shut, you collapsed onto your back with a dreamy sigh. Yamaguchi was the first to stand up.

He was disappointed that you were so easy to impress, yes, but otherwise unfazed.

"You guys wanna go get something to eat?"

Tsukishima got to his feet, too, and had his bag slung at the ready-- usually not so food-motivated, but he was starving, at this point. The sun was low in the window. You nodded at the great idea.

Head still tilted to the closed door, you asked, "Does- uh, does he... have a girlfriend?"

Yamaguchi avoided your eyes, an easy task at his height, and took both of your hands to lift you to your feet. It was solely out of curiosity. He was so out of your league.

Tsukishima rattled off a blatant and well-done lie.

"Yeah. He's dating Michimiya- you didn't know that?"

It helped to cushion your feelings. You nodded, smiling at the way Yamaguchi kept you steady again with his hands in yours.

"Ohh, right. Right. That makes sense."

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco @megapteraurelia

my masterlist. more haikyuu

[muniimyg]

BAD HABIT // JJK

06 | big dipper // series m.list

note: hihi ,, thank u for waiting !! this ch is def worth it tbh </3 no warnings ,, just like ... oc goes off on jungkook ,, jungkook gets blindfolded ,, more context on their auras ??? yeah ... tension too ! pls do not be shy and send in ur thoughts !!! i would love to know how u're liking the fic so far as it's my first fantasy au !!!!! (clearly still very nervy lmfao) mwah ,, enj !

//

the past few days have been anything but easy for jungkook.

not that he deserves easy—he knows he doesn’t. if anything, this is exactly what he should’ve expected. what does surprise him, though, is just how well you execute the petty treatment. how effortlessly you lock him out. how, no matter how many times he shuts his eyes, focuses, and tries to slip into your thoughts—he can’t.

it’s like the connection doesn’t exist.

which makes no sense.

because it does.

the string between you is golden and bright, undeniable to everyone who has ever seen it. and yet, there’s this… knot. this missing piece. it’s so fucking strange. he felt you before—felt the way your heart would race, the heat that would bloom across your skin. he knew when you were sick, when you were anxious. when the bond first tied, his own pulse had stumbled just trying to match yours. he cared so much when it happened...

but now?

now, it’s empty.

like someone cut the string without actually severing it.

he first noticed it that night in the garden.

you had only been soulmates for a few hours, and still, he felt something. at first, he thought maybe he was imagining it. overhyping the entire invisible string phenomenon. but then, the symptoms started stacking—waves of nausea when you were overwhelmed, your voice in his head when you caught his stray thoughts in class.

you’re in his head.

but he’s not in yours.

and if he’s not in your head, then what about your heart?

after that night, jungkook had gone to bed feeling like absolute shit. you told him he made you feel better—but he couldn’t feel it. couldn’t be sure. how could he trust words alone when everything inside you was a blank slate to him?

it freaked him out.

it got to him.

he spent the night tossing and turning, unable to catch even fifteen minutes of real sleep. and then, the next morning, when you walked in well-rested and seemingly fine—it hit him like a freight train.

it’s him.

he’s the problem.

and as fucked up, childish, and selfish as it is—that’s why he called you boring.

because you are.

because you’re blank.

because he, the so-called master of manipulation, can’t get inside your head.

but he sure as hell can get under your skin.

"so everyone, partner up—and obviously, soulmates go with soulmates," namjoon announces, finishing his rundown of the sparring activity.

you barely register the rest.

instead, you watch the class shuffle into place. soulmates move toward each other. friends pair up. the guys—still without soulmates—team up amongst themselves.

and jungkook?

jungkook leans against a tree, one foot propped lazily against the bark, arms folded over his chest. his expression is unreadable, but the tilt of his head, the barely-there smirk, sends heat curling up your spine. he plays with his lighter.

you exhale sharply and motion for him to come over.

he stays put, smirk growing.

then, he mouths, "don’t wanna."

your jaw clenches. you point at him, then to the ground in front of you.

"come here. now."

jungkook blinks, feigning innocence.

you cross your arms.

you wait—a second, a minute, a moment too long.

then, just as you start to turn away, he appears right in front of you.

"you're impatient today," he remarks, voice smooth, teasing. "is that how fast you need me? i can teleport wherever you want me to go. tell me to go away, i'll do it."

you sigh, pressing your fingers to your temple. before you can retort, he lifts his hands, and with the subtlest flex of his fingers, two sparring sticks float from the pile and dart into his grasp. he catches them effortlessly and offers you one, grinning.

across the field, namjoon groans.

"jungkook, did you really need to use your aura for that? just walk like a normal person."

jungkook huffs.

"wow. it’s like everyone hates me today."

"maybe we do," you mutter, snatching the stick from his hand.

this was foreseeable.

you don’t need jin’s aura to know how this is going to go. the class knows, too. there’s a shift in energy, hushed murmurs, amused glances exchanged.

from where he leans against a tree, jin exhales a chuckle. “this should be interesting.”

and it is.

because while everyone else has started, you haven’t moved past the first three strikes.

not because you aren’t trying.

but because jungkook isn’t.

you lunge forward, aiming a strike at his chest. he doesn’t even flinch. his own stick twirls idly in his fingers, his gaze flicking toward the treetops like he’s more interested in cloud formations than the fight.

he dodges every attack without breaking a sweat. side-steps. pivots. barely moves.

and worse—he looks bored.

your foot pivots. another strike slices through the air. jungkook steps back just enough for it to skim past his sleeve.

“getting closer,” he muses. “try again.”

irritation burns at your spine. you exhale sharply, feint left, strike right. this time, you land it. the stick grazes his arm—not enough to bruise, but enough to count.

jungkook stumbles back dramatically, hissing through his teeth as if you’d run him through with a blade.

"shit—"

the class falls silent for a beat.

then, snickers ripple through the air.

"oh, come on," you deadpan.

jungkook blinks at you, playing it up even more. "that was—you stabbed me."

taehyung mutters something under his breath. jin actually laughs. namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose.

jungkook sighs, twirling his stick again. then, in a movement so smooth it’s almost insulting, he flicks yours aside with a gentle tap.

wood clashes.

you stumble back.

cheers erupt from the watching trainees. but you just glare at him, chest heaving.

"again."

you grip your stick tighter, eyes narrowing. across from you, jungkook still looks at ease. hands loose. weight shifted just enough to be casual. like he’s humoring you.

the heat in your chest flares.

“jungkook, are you even trying?”

he shrugs, nonchalant.

“dunno. are you?”

jimin chokes on a laugh. "god, jungkook’s asking for it."

your jaw locks.

the room feels warmer. everyone's watching. you’ve never cared about proving yourself before—but this feels different.

nam joon's voice cuts in, sharp. "jungkook, get it together. look at ___! she’s clearly upset.”

jungkook’s eyes flicker toward namjoon. then back to you.

and something changes... his teasing drops. his fingers tighten around his stick.

“you want me to try?”

you swallow, nodding once.

he shifts, expression unreadable. “whatever you want, p.”

then, he moves.

the first exchange is fast. too fast. you counter, but his strikes come harder, sharper. for the first time, he’s fighting back.

and you’re losing.

badly.

his strikes come faster, sharper. his movements are precise. he isn’t holding back anymore, and suddenly, you’re struggling to keep up. the wooden sticks crack against each other, loud against the backdrop of rustling trees and hushed whispers.

then, in a split second, he spins.

your stick is wrenched from your hands. before you can react, jungkook grips it, tugging it toward him—until you’re standing nearly chest to chest.

then—

he taps himself out.

a grin spreads across his face. the trainees erupt into giggles. your shoulders rise and fall as you catch your breath.

jungkook extends a hand.

"good game."

it wasn’t.

it wasn’t fair.

it wasn't good.

it was just so him.

instead of shaking his hand, you shove your sparring stick against his chest and avoid his eyes.

"excuse me," you mutter before turning away from the group and heading towards the garden.

jungkook watches you leave.

he doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t move. but, after a few beats, jungkook follows.

you don’t acknowledge him, but you know he’s there.

you can feel it.

the ground hums beneath your feet, a faint tremor shifting the soil like the earth itself is attuned to him. the air turns crisp, infused with something familiar—fresh rain on warm stone, something sharp at the edges, something distinctly him. being his soulmate changes everything.

good and bad.

so you make him work for it.

you take the long way to the garden, slipping between hedges, ducking beneath ivy, fingers grazing the thick vines trailing along the palace walls. the scent of jasmine clings to your skin as you move, quiet and deliberate. you don’t look back.

but he follows.

always.

by the time you reach the stone bench beneath the willow, the late afternoon sun drapes golden shadows over the grass. the leaves rustle overhead, and the distant chime of a wind bell carries through the stillness.

he doesn’t speak.

you wait.

finally, after what feels like forever, jungkook exhales.

“you didn’t come last night.”

the words break through the quiet, heavy and deliberate.

“hmm?” you hum, dragging the sound out just enough to make him second-guess himself.

his jaw ticks. “i felt sick.”

the way he says it—careful, measured—betrays him.

a test.

a trap.

you don’t spring it... not yet.

instead, you lift your gaze, watching him with something unreadable.

“exactly how sick were you?”

his expression flickers—just for a second—but it’s enough. the shift. the realization that you know he’s lying. that you didn’t come because you didn’t want to. that he had waited for you, and you had chosen to ignore it.

he doesn’t like that. not one bit.

for the first time since class, he looks at you. really looks at you. and for the first time, you let him.

the garden is quiet this time of day. that’s why you go. but now, the quiet stretches thin between you, taut as a thread about to snap. the leaves sway overhead. jungkook shifts his weight.

then, without thinking, you step forward.

he doesn’t move. just watches.

you lift a hand, resting the back of it against his forehead.

warm. not feverish, but—warm.

jungkook stills.

for a split second, he stops breathing. the world falls away, distant and unimportant, because all he can focus on is your touch. the way your fingers linger before you pull away.

he reacts before he can think.

his hand catches yours, fingers wrapping around your wrist—not tight, but firm. firm enough to stop you.

you blink.

he tugs you closer.

your other hand lands against his chest, steadying yourself against the solid weight of him.

he is warm here, too. warmer than he should be. his heartbeat is steady, but there’s something frantic beneath the surface, a tension coiled too tight.

jungkook doesn’t know what to do with this. doesn’t know what to do with the warmth spreading through him like something foreign. something dangerous.

his voice is quiet when he speaks. almost unsteady.

“what are you doing to me?”

your lips part slightly, breath catching—

then, you push away.

he lets go immediately, like your touch burns.

your expression smooths out, unreadable. you take a step back.

“nothing,” you say. “that’s the thing.”

jungkook exhales sharply, head tilting. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

you hold his gaze. then, deliberately, you let your aura slip. let it expand—thick, unmistakable.

resistance.

jungkook’s breath catches.

“i can’t read you,” he says eventually, voice low, like he hates admitting it. “i... i could for a day or two... but it doesn’t make sense. this does't make sense. you knew i wasn’t sick last night?”

you nod.

“... you can feel—”

“yeah,” you breathe. “i can feel your symptoms. i can feel when your body reacts to me. i can hear your thoughts when you let me—when you want me to. i feel the bond."

his fingers twitch at his sides. his brows pinch slightly, like this realization is foreign. you inhale, steady. then exhale, letting down your guard just enough for him to feel it.

your aura glows—not to the eye, but in presence.

jungkook stiffens.

“resistance,” he pieces together. “that’s… that’s why i can’t—”

“i had my guard down when we met. i was giving you a chance, and you…” your voice softens, eyes searching his. “you can’t manipulate me. i refuse it.”

his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. then, he scoffs, shaking his head.

“who said i had plans to manipulate you?”

“isn’t that your aura?”

“and if it is?” he steps closer, chin tilting. “come on, p. you think you have me all figured out?”

your lips curl into a small smile. not sweet. not cruel. something in between.

“yeah, i do,” you say. “the truth is, i’m not upset that you find me boring.”

jungkook waits.

“i’m upset that you’re boring.”

his brows furrow slightly. “what does that mean?”

you step back, turning toward the garden bench as you speak over your shoulder.

“you think i’m just a princess? fine. to each their own. you think you’re too good for me—”

“i never said that—”

“what?” your voice sharpens. “you think you’re not good enough, then? see, i’m confused—frustrated, actually. i understand i’m the newbie to the divinity—to this… to you,” you pause, eyes finding his. “but why should i stand around and let myself be collateral damage to your low self-esteem and ego?”

his expression hardens. offense first, then defense.

“who the fuck said shit about me having low self-esteem—”

“no one,” you almost laugh. “but that’s it, isn’t it? your ego can't swallow the fact that you can't read me. that you can't manipulate your place in my life... that there's a possibility that you can and will fail and have to depend on trust and love to be enough for people like me to stay.”

jungkook clenches his jaw.

"i don't know what the fuck you're talking about," jungkook spits. "do you think you're better than us because you're the divine?"

"no," you answer steadily. "i think i know more because i've been away from the divine. i have perspective. i know what's real—what's out there."

"i know what's out there too—"

"you didn't live in it," you breathe. "jungkook, people in the real world have to do things they don't want to do. no manipulation in time, no manipulation in feelings or things—they face life... you sleep during class. you don’t care when we spar. you don’t care about me—”

“___, you can’t possibly be calling me out and using these as your fucking excuses—”

“i just want you to know it’s okay,” you say it softer this time, like you mean it. “has anyone accepted you... just the way you are? if not, let me be the first one to do so. jungkook, do what you want. be who you are. figure things out or give up—it doesn’t matter. i can live like this, okay? we don’t have to be obsessed with each other. we can fight the bond if that’s what you really want—”

jungkook’s mind spins.

you’re saying so much shit that doesn’t make sense to him. this is escalating too fast. he wasn’t prepared for this. he didn’t know the weight of his words until now.

“it’s not what i want,” he spits out. “___, can you please slow down—”

you shake your head.

“i just want you to know this: you’re wrong if you think i’m the type to tend to someone’s inability to see their goodness. their worth… their purpose. i’m a big believer in accepting what you think you deserve. if you can’t accept me, that’s fine. maybe i’m not what you deserve. but that’s not on me, jungkook. you limit yourself. you don’t believe in fate. you don’t want this—”

“do you?” he croaks out. “do you want this?”

for a moment, you’re stunned.

regardless of all the shit he’s put you through in the past two weeks, you don’t have it in yourself to lie.

“i want more,” you say finally. “not this.”

more.

jungkook didn't know what that meant exactly... but this was a start. he isn't an apologetic type, so this is his... version of it.

trying.

again.

he stands in front of you, rolling his wrists, exhaling slow. his eyes flicker over your stance—checking, assessing, adjusting before he even moves.

“keep your weight forward,” jungkook instructs, tilting his chin toward your feet. “you hesitate too much.”

you nod, shifting slightly. he steps in, light on his feet, and you match him, falling into motion as he throws a testing jab. you dodge. pivot. counter. he blocks. you move again.

but it’s wrong.

every strike, every dodge, every block feels a second off. like walking out of rhythm with someone—close but not quite. you follow his cues, but there’s no flow, no instinct, just effort.

jungkook exhales sharply.

“again.”

he moves quicker this time, forcing you to react faster, but it only makes the disconnect more obvious. he shifts left when you expect right. your counters don’t land where they should. his frustration grows, simmering beneath his skin, evident in the slight drag of his feet, the way his breath turns shallow. he shakes his head, readjusting.

you know that feeling—the itch of something not working, of knowing it should but not being able to make it.

you step back, panting, watching the tension tighten in his shoulders.

“can we try something?” you ask, voice softer now.

jungkook pauses. 

he blinks at you, expression unreadable, before tilting his head slightly.

“try what?”

you don’t wait for his response.

“wait here,” you tell him before you turn on your heel, feet light against the stone path as you take off in a quiet sprint. the air is thick with the lingering tension of missed steps, of a rhythm neither of you could quite grasp, but you know—you know—it isn’t just about movement.

jungkook doesn’t call after you. 

he stays where he is, watching as you disappear.

when you return, there’s gold handkerchief is wrapped around your fingers. the fabric glows in the dim light, soft between your hands as you come to a stop in front of him, close enough that you see the slight furrow of his brow.

his gaze flickers to yours, unreadable.

“trust me?” you ask, already reaching up.

jungkook exhales. then, slowly, he nods.

you tiptoe, wrapping the cloth over his eyes, knotting it at the back of his head. his shoulders stay squared, but you feel the way his breath slows, the way he stills beneath your touch. his lashes flutter against the fabric before he adjusts his stance again, waiting.

this time, when you move, he doesn’t see you—he feels you.

“focus on me,” you tell him. 

“h-how—”

“i’ll focus on you too. maybe if we do this properly, our auras will meet. i can put my guard up any time, but putting it down is something entirely different. it’s beyond my control to put it down. it’s a reaction to you—your vulnerability, not mine.”

jungkook swallows, letting your words sink in. 

"how do you know this shit?" he attempts to hide his suspicion.

you laugh. "have you forgotten who my grandparents are? just because i was raised outside this palace doesn't mean i wasn't educated and trained for the divinity."

"you are the divinity."

"that i am, little prince."

you don't know it, but he rolls his eyes.

"and you're a princess."

"that i am not."

he chuckles. so do you. the moment is light.

then, he takes a deep breath and envisions you.

in his head, it’s hazy. there’s only so much of you that he memorized in a short period of time—but he hopes it’s enough. he recalls the way you turn your head and how pretty your neck is. how long your hair is and how your eyes smile before your lips curve into one.

before you know it, the air shifts and he strikes. there’s a slight tremor in your breath when you hesitate—a quiet hitch when he moves too close.

his body reacts without thinking, syncing to yours in a way sight never allowed. he follows the push and pull, the rise and fall of your heartbeat, matching it, learning it. and for the first time, there’s no disconnect—no distance or this… force that pushes him away. 

no struggle.

just instinct.

just you.

and then, in a way he can’t explain, he knows where you’ll be before you even move. 

he anticipates every pivot, every feint, as if something unseen is guiding him—no, pulling him. there’s a thread between you now, stretched taut between his ribs and yours, humming with energy. it tightens when you step back, loosens when you exhale. he feels it with every shift, with every breath you take.

it’s disorienting at first, the pull, the quiet certainty of it. but it’s right. more right than anything has felt in a long, long time.

his heart pounds, syncing to yours. for the first time, jungkook doesn’t fight it.

instead, he lets it fall.

in so many fucking ways, he lets himself fall.

you bend over and tug the handkerchief off of him. 

then, you extend a hand.

jungkook squints, adjusting to the night. then, he stares at it for a beat too long, his pride hanging in the space between you. you didn’t exactly win… but you didn’t lose either. regardless, he feels defeated. 

the garden is quiet except for the sound of both your breaths, still uneven, still trying to settle. the tie had been hard-earned—one final strike knocking him down, leaving him on his back, staring at the night sky like it held the answers he didn’t.

you wiggle your fingers. “good game?”

his lips press into a line before he exhales, reaching up. his palm slides against yours, rough and warm, and you brace yourself as he uses the momentum to pull himself to his feet.

too strong.

the force drags you forward, nearly colliding into his chest.

you stumble, hands reaching for balance, and jungkook catches you before you can fall completely. one hand wraps around your waist, the other grasping your arm, steadying you like it’s second nature. his fingers press firm into your skin, and for a moment, neither of you move.

your palm lands flat against his chest.

a sharp inhale. not yours.

his heartbeat hammers against your touch, wild and restless. the same way it felt when he was blindfolded—when he had to rely on instinct, when the rhythm of his breath synced with yours and something unseen pulled tight between you.

you lift your gaze.

jungkook is already looking.

your eyes meet and it’s like you’re the only thing he sees. you see it. you look into his eyes and freaking see what he sees. 

you. only you.

his lips suddenly part like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. his eyes flicker, unreadable, caught between hesitation and something heavier. his grip on your waist doesn’t loosen. if anything, it lingers, fingertips pressing in like he’s mapping out the shape of you, committing it to memory.

"what are you thinking right now?" he asks rather shyly. “since i… i can’t read your mind.”

your voice is soft. it curls between you, laced with something you’re not sure you want to name.

jungkook swallows. his grip tightens—just slightly, just enough for you to feel it… seconds stretch.

then—before anything else, before you let yourself think too hard about it—you smile. you let out a small chuckle, tapping his chest with the back of your hand.

"figure it out, jungkook."

the walk back is quiet, but the air hums with something… different. 

the weight of the sparring match lingers between you—his hands on your waist, your fingers on his chest, the breathless moment you shared before you pulled away. now, as you walk side by side beneath the moonlight, the space between you feels impossibly small, as if the night itself is pushing you closer.

your fingertips brush once. a fleeting touch, barely there. but it’s enough to send a pulse through the invisible string that binds you.

twice. his breath stutters. 

three times. 

fuck.

you hear it. 

not aloud, but in the space between your thoughts, in the echo of his heartbeat. it’s his voice though. you know it is… and it’s the sheer panic in his mind and the way his body that betrays him. you giggle before you can stop yourself, and jungkook tenses beside you, as if caught in something he wasn’t ready to admit. 

his jaw tightens. 

his ears burn red.

you reach your doorstep too soon. your heart is still racing, tangled up in him, in the weight of his presence. and before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, "i can send a guard to take you back to yours—"

jungkook scoffs, low and amused. “i can handle myself.”

you fumble for an excuse. 

“it’s just that… it’s dark.”

he glances up, a slow smirk pulling at his lips. the night sky is dark, but the stars shine almost as bright as you. it’s enough for him to know where he’s going.

“the stars are out.”

you follow his gaze. the sky is vast, endless, and speckled with constellations that stretch far beyond the palace walls. the kind of night that feels infinite.

“they are…” you exhale softly. “wow, they’re so bright here.”

jungkook tilts his head. “you do live in the highest point of the palace.”

you laugh, shaking your head.

“still. regardless of where i am, i can never spot the big dipper.”

he hums, tilting his chin toward the sky. “really? it’s over there.”

“where?” you ask, mimicking his gaze.

“made you look.”

you gasp, swatting his arm, and he grins—really grins, boyish and unguarded, like the version of him that slips through when he forgets to keep his walls up. it sends something warm curling in your chest.

you soften, stepping back toward your door. 

“goodnight, jungkook.”

he lingers, just for a moment. the moonlight catches in his eyes, in the way he watches you like he wants to say something but doesn’t. instead, he exhales, the corner of his lips quirking up.

“goodnight, princess.”

you slip inside, shutting the door behind you. the guards reposition themselves and ask jungkook if he’d like to be accompanied back. he shakes his head, declining the offer. then, he puzzles the guards for a moment. 

jungkook doesn’t leave immediately. 

he waits, glancing up at the stars once more. and then, with a quiet flick of his fingers, the sky shifts. the darkness of the night sky almost flickers. the clouds part ever so slightly, rearranging the constellations.

the big dipper, now perfectly clear. 

just for you.

[navybrat817]

In a Red Dress

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky has to debrief after a mission, so you decide to stop in for a visit. In a red dress.

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Established relationship, explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, possessive behavior, dirty talk, flirting, teasing, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Happy FriYAY! I started this in January for @tumblin-theworldaway and finally finished it today. Love you, Aqua! I hope you can relax soon. Could be considered a follow up to With a Bang. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Your heels clicked along the floor as you left the elevator, reminding yourself for the umpteenth time that it wasn't Bucky’s fault that his team extended their mission for another day. Unforeseen circumstances were to blame, completely out of his control. You also couldn't hold it against him that he had to debrief after he messaged you that he arrived back home safely and unharmed. It was part of the job. Still, you missed him and wanted a bit of attention.

Which was why you showed up at S.H.I.E.L.D. in a silky red dress and Bucky’s dog tags under your coat. No bra, no panties. Which he realized when you walked into the conference room, unannounced, and removed your coat.

It was fun to put the fire in his steel eyes.

“Welcome home, Bucky,” you smiled as the room went silent. “Don’t mind me. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Your burly boyfriend was out of his seat and didn't tear his gaze away from you, the tension thick as you tossed the coat away. Today was a good day for your self confidence. You wore it like a second skin, feeling as beautiful on the outside as you did inside. You knew you looked good enough to eat and you wanted him to devour you.

And as much as you loved him in his black shirt and tactical pants, it hid the wall of muscle you wanted to trace with your hands and tongue.

“Hey, baby. Fancy seeing you here,” he said, his eyes dropping to your chest. Your nipples hardened against the fabric and you wished he’d latch his mouth to them. “And speaking of home, I thought I was going to meet you there.”

Your shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I got impatient since you were late. Plus I wanted to show you my dress,” you said, doing a happy twirl. It was reminiscent of New Years. The soft fabric hugged your body tight like your black dress did, but this one left little to the imagination. “What do you think?”

Steve, ever the good friend, averted his gaze, but a scowl crossed Bucky’s handsome face when you both realized that other agents looked your way. You hadn't expected to be the center of attention for anyone else, but it didn't matter to you if others looked. Why would you want them when Bucky had you under his spell?

At least they were smart enough to look away when Bucky’s metal hand clenched.

“Well? Do you like it? I thought the dog tags were a nice touch,” you added, running a finger along them when he remained silent. “They really do go well with everything.”

“Come here,” he said, beckoning you with a metal finger. You knew he meant business when he didn't use his dominant hand. “Now.”

You maintained an aura of innocence as you walked toward him, watching him his lips as your hips swayed.

“I can see your nipples through your dress,” he said low enough for just the two of you, but poor Steve with his enhanced hearing likely picked up on it. “And I’m pretty sure I didn’t give you permission to wear a dress like that in front of other guys.”

Any other guy who said that to you would've been smacked, but hearing it from him only made your eyes fill with amusement as you tilted your head. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission to wear this, Sergeant.”

“Baby,” he whispered. You knew what calling him by his rank did to him.

“I should be able to wear what I want and when I want to. We both know that,” you continued, sliding your finger down his chest instead of poking it like he expected. “But you have my permission to break someone's fingers if they try to touch what belongs to you. Because I do belong to you.”

Your declaration fueled the fire within. There was no hesitation on your part. No doubt. And after being apart for a short time, you wanted him to hear you say you were his girl.

“Yeah, you do. You’re mine,” he said with a raspy touch of confidence that would’ve soaked your panties had you been wearing any. “And I’m all yours, but I still need to debrief.”

You huffed, but the conviction in his tone was admirable. “Fine. I’ll just wait here,” you said when he frowned. Both of you knew the classified information wasn’t meant for your ears, yet no one spoke up for you to leave. Were they afraid of pissing your boyfriend off? “You know, I really do love that grumpy look of yours. It gets me so wet.”

Bucky’s cheek twitched when one of the men coughed. “You're being a fucking tease.”

“Is it teasing if I let you have me?” You asked, tapping your chin. “Teasing you would be letting you go to bed with blue balls.”

Wordlessly, he lifted a hand and clutched the dog tags. He yanked on them hard enough to move you closer, his eyes not leaving yours when you gasped and shivered from the heat-filled look. You considered it a win that you didn’t collapse. Because he was going to destroy you and you’d love every second of it.

“Be very careful what comes out of your mouth next, baby,” he warned.

You smiled, more than ready to give him one more push. “I’m more interested in what’s supposed to go inside my mouth.”

His nostrils flared when you opened your mouth and showed him your tongue and throat. He put a hand on the back of your neck and tilted your head back, lightly nipping at your skin below your jaw. “I should put you on your knees and fuck your throat in front of everyone. Or put you over my knee and spank you ‘til you squirm. Show ‘em that you really are mine.”

You giggled, a soft and tempting sound. “Why fuck my throat when my pussy is nice and wet for you?”

“Gentlemen. I think the Bravo Conference Room is available. Let’s finish this up there,” Steve announced, his chair scraping against the floor and pulling you out of your spell. “Told you that you should’ve just gone home, jerk.”

“Fuck off, punk,” Bucky said, keeping a firm hand on you so you couldn’t look at any of the men filing out. The smirk he gave you was nothing short of predatory once the door clicked shut, leaving the two of you alone. “Since you need my cock so badly that you can’t wait until I get home, bend over that table and let me give it to you.”

Your giggle quickly died in your throat when you realized he was serious. “You’ve never fucked me in one of the debriefing rooms. Someone could walk in,” you reminded him.

Yeah, you showed up wearing what you did. Yeah, you teased him. But it was all in good fun. He wouldn’t actually fuck you on the table.

Right?

Your cheeks grew hot at the next words out of his mouth. “You think I give a shit about if someone walks in?”

He let go of your neck and grabbed your wrist, carefully dragging you to the table. You loved every part of him, but something about his unashamed want of you made your heart soar. Maybe it was because of how much he healed and allowed himself to have a piece of happiness. That some part of him from his past, the man he used to be, surfaced and blended in with who he was now.

Heaven sent and survived the depths of Hell.

“Now, I should spank your ass raw for this little stunt you pulled. Letting them see you in this dress,” he said without any real threat behind his words. “But I won’t do that until we’re home.”

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes,” you smiled, expecting him to bend you over. But he brought a hand to your cheek instead. “Bucky?”

His gaze moved to your lips as he murmured, “Not fucking you until I kiss you.”

His mouth met yours not in a frenzy, but with a smile. The kind that told you how happy he was to be back with you. It wasn’t long before he shifted, the hand on your cheek slipping to your chin so he could deepen it. The soft slip of his tongue ignited your entire body, feeling his heart beat faster as you brought a hand to his chest. A reminder that he was alive, home, and loved you.

You loved him, too.

Your eyes stayed shut for a few seconds after he pulled away. “Missed you, Bucky,” you whispered.

“Missed you, too,” he said, his voice rougher than before. “Now bend over.”

The air rushed from your lungs at the switch from want to tenderness to need, your chest pressed against the table as he pushed your dress. Part of you wondered if he would’ve made good on his threat and fuck you in front of the other agents. He liked to toe the line of wanting to show others you were his and not wanting them to see intimate parts of you.

Which made you wonder what he’d do if someone walked in. He said he didn’t give a shit, but would he stop and try to cover your body with his own? Or would he keep fucking you?

You wouldn't mind either way.

“Spread ‘em,” he ordered, which you immediately obeyed. The low whistle made you shut your eyes before he dragged a finger along your exposed slit. “Didn’t even bother covering your pretty pussy with underwear. Probably best since you would’ve ruined them with how wet you are.”

“You’ve ruined all of my panties, Bucky,” you said, the distinct sound of his belt buckle and pants zipper making you moan. “And I’m ready for you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? Your pussy ready to stretch around my cock?” He asked, making you shriek when he unexpectedly brought his flesh hand down hard on your ass. He only used the metal when you were in real trouble. “You better not have fucked yourself with a toy before you got here.”

“I didn’t! I haven’t even touched myself,” you promised before he stretched over your back. “I just need you in me.”

“That’s what I like to hear. And though you interrupted my debriefing and I may need to stab a teammate or two, you’re still my good girl. And good girls deserve rewards,” he growled in your ear, nipping it for good measure as you moaned. The head of his cock teased your entrance, your core clenching in anticipation. “I’ll fuck you and you’ll come all over me, just like you want and just like I need. And you’ll take it ‘til I’m done with you.”

You reveled in being his good girl, even when you were bad. How no one else could take his cock the way you could. How he made you soak your sheets day and night with your essence because being fucked by Bucky Barnes made you gush like a geyser. It was obscene.

“I’m your good girl and I’ll take everything you give me,” you said sweetly, knowing he’d fuck you whether you said it or not. “So let my pussy welcome your cock home, please?”

The soft kiss to your neck was almost like an apology before he pushed into you, both of you moaning. He’d check later to make sure you weren’t sore since he didn’t stretch you at all, but the slight ache when he bottomed out always bordered more on pleasure than pain. The overwhelming sensations of him inside you made your eyes roll back and he hadn’t even started thrusting.

“So fucking warm. And wet,” he grunted in your ear when he finally moved, his pants rubbing against your bare thighs. “Jesus fuck, you’re soaking me.”

Bucky robbed you of your breath when he leaned up and gripped your hips, hammering into you. You tried to grip the table, but all you could do was let him pull you back and forth. He was relentless like this, powerful, dominant. Making you take it, just like he said you would. Funny how minutes ago you were the one confidently teasing him and now you were a whining, needy mess. All because his cock shut your brain off.

You didn’t need to think like this anyway. You could be his doll, just for him to play with and love. In your pretty red dress or nothing at all.

“Harder, Sergeant,” you begged, your moans spurring him on.

“Not hard enough for you? Needy little thing,” he groaned, the sound of him burying himself inside you over and over echoing in your ears. “Missed this cunt. Missed you.”

Your pussy gripped him tight, the heady bliss making your vision blur. “Missed you. M… Missed your cock,” you slurred.

He chuckled, not slowing his pace as he leaned back down to tickle your cheek with his scruff. “So fucking cute when you get drunk on my cock.”

You wondered some days where he learned to talk dirty before you remembered that you had a large hand in that. He loved telling you how greedy your pussy made him. How he loved watching his spend slide out of you so he could fuck it back in. How he’s shocked some days that he can fit inside you, so he must’ve turned you into a perfect cocksleeve.

His cock made your mind numb, but your pussy made him run his mouth.

“Gonna make you sit on it when we get home. Fuck, gonna make you ruin the sheets when I fuck you into the mattress,” he rambled, making you moan louder. You didn’t care who heard. Let them hear what he did to you. What he turned you into: his needy slut. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you moaned, his thrusts pushing your breasts harder against the table, your nipples hard and aching for him to touch them. He would later. You could wait. But you couldn’t wait to fall over the precipice. “‘M gonna come.”

“Do it. Won’t stop you,” he encouraged. He no doubt felt how close you were with how you clenched around him, your back starting to arch. “C’mon, baby. Come all over me.”

Your eyes fluttered as your body tensed, your walls pulsing around him your orgasm surged like a tidal wave. The ripples tore through you, ebbing and flowing as you moaned his name. If you could drown in pleasure, you’d want his name to be the last word that spilled from your lips.

“That’s my girl,” he praised as your limbs went lax.

You throbbed around him until he pulled out, making you whimper since he didn't come. You wanted him to finish inside you. He had you on your back with your legs spread wide before you could beg for it, keeping your dress up as he speared you once again. He thrust fast, needing his release just as badly as you needed yours.

“Need to see your face when you milk my cock,” he grunted, licking his thumb and bringing it to your clit. You whined, jerking underneath him as he rubbed the swollen nub. “Oh, stay still. You can give me one more.”

You almost denied him before you felt the coil tighten within you again. You never thought you could have back-to-back orgasms until you started sleeping with him. But it shouldn’t have surprised you. He played you like his favorite instrument and you were his good girl.

You could give him one more.

“Come with me,” you panted, staring into his darkened eyes as his face twisted in ecstasy only you could provide him. “Please.”

He couldn’t resist that last bit of begging.

The waves crashed again, adding to your first high, as his mouth opened in a groan, filling you in hot spurts. Watching him tip over the edge was a sight to behold, his cheeks tinged as his hips stilled and both of you tried to catch your breath. He laid across you after a moment, the weight of him making you sigh.

“Welcome back,” you smiled as your breathing evened out.

He stayed inside you as he brushed his lips against yours. You were going to make a mess all over the table when he pulled out, but it was worth any grief either of you got. “Good to be back,” he whispered, his hand on your cheek again in a tender display as his eyes scanned your face. “So beautiful.”

“Me fucked out or the dress?” You smiled.

“Both,” he smiled back, your face warm.

“Thank you,” you breathed, your heart still racing fast. You suddenly wished you were in bed so he could properly hold you. But he’d have you home soon enough for that. “Hope I didn't get you into any trouble,” you added. That was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Steve gets it,” he assured you, briefly closing his eyes when you brushed your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry we got back late. He’s right. I should've just gone right home.”

Your heart clenched a little at that. Missions were important and not easy on either of you, but it was his job. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you made it home safely,” you said, arching your back. The table wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were too fucked out to care.

You also didn't want to be apart from him since he was back.

He wrapped an arm underneath you to ease some of your strain. “Still teased me by showing up like this. I might fuck your throat and put you over my knee tonight,” he groaned, squeezing a breast through your dress before he straightened out the dog tags. “But then I’m going to hold you after and not let go.”

You smiled, looking forward to it. “Yes, Sergeant.”

And you'd be sure to thank Steve later for clearing out the room so you could welcome your man home.

Nothing to see here, lovelies. Go about your business! Hehe. 😇 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[tessasturns]

sturniolo christmas

matt sturniolo x reader

➽──────────────❥

summary... the triplets had invited you over to film a gingerbread house making video, but the tension between you and matt was insane.

warnings... swearing, tension between matt and reader !!

wc... 690

(masterlist)

➽──────────────❥

the sturniolos house was ready and decorated for christmas, decorations painting the home. you were filming a video with the triplets, a fun holiday activity.

"hey guys, today we are going to be building and decorating gingerbread houses with our best friend, y/n l/n!" nick says as he explains the video to the camera. "hi!" you say as you wave to the camera.

"we're going to be in teams for this, so we have y/n and matt together, which leaves chris and i in a group together" nick explains. "we will have about an hour to finish and you guys will vote on our instagram, @ sturniolo.triplets to see who's is the best."

a couple minutes go by and nick already has the entire group laughing. "what the fuck is that?" nick wheezes as he points out chris' gingerbread man. "it's gingy" he laughs. "look at all his aura nick!" you and matt were now gasping for air at the sight of chris' gingerbread man; it was covered in icing and candy.

"don't fucking put that anywhere near our gingerbread house" nick says. "i'll do whatever the fuck i want to" chris responds, sass laced on his tongue. chris and nick start yelling at eachother, so you and matt take the advantage that they're not working while the time was running out.

you and matt are working in perfect harmony, your house almost done, whereas chris and nicks had fallen about three times. they're still yelling at each other, but you and matt are in your own little world. the roof had begun to slip and matt soon became aware of it, breaking his silence to help you. "make sure you- here" matt wraps his arms around you from behind, helping you hold the roof together while you ice the top.

your breathing subconsciously starts to get heavier, the boy now practically wrapped around you. "okay...there we go" matt says as he stands back up to continue putting gumdrops on the roof. the boys behavior didn't go unnoticed, however nobody said anything.

"chris you're a fucking idiot" nick states as the boys go back at it again. "how am i the idiot? i'm just trying to add gingy to our house" chris chuckles. "oh my-" nick gets cut off by chris throwing the gingerbread man at him, causing a fight between the two.

"oh my fucking- you're gonna die. you're going to fucking die chris!" nick exclaims as he launches the bag of icing in chris' direction. however, chris quickly moved out of the way, leaving the icing to go right for your head. matt is quick to respond, and catches the icing bag right before it smacks you. the two of you are now looking right at eachother, the tension being way too much.

"chat is this rizz?" chris gasps as he stares at the scene unfolding before him. the four of you laugh it off, matt's reflexes being insane once again. you try to keep the odd feeling for your best friend in but nobody in this room knows how much he means to you. everyone goes back to decorating, but not without chris and nick fighting a bit more.

"alright everybody, thank you so much for tuning in and watching this weeks friday video, we will put a poll on our instagram story to see who won so make sure you're following the group account, and we'll see you next friday!" nick says, as matt screams at the camera before shutting it off. you all begin to clean up the mess and nick takes pictures of the gingerbread houses for instagram.

the four of you are now sitting on the couch, matt subconsciously placing his arm around you. you try to choke back words, not wanting anything to change. this night was truly perfect. "i just know we're gonna win" chris states. "i don't give a flying fuck about what you 'know' " matt states as chris starts to huff about how his and nicks gingerbread house was better, a pointless argument that matt showed no mind to. the night ends with watching die hard and sipping hot cocoa, a classic christmas night.

➽──────────────❥

tessas notes... this is for the @mattscoquette and @letstrip13 holiday writing comp ! however i couldn't get the proper tag to work for some reason, im not on this app very much so i do apologize for that :(

more influencer!reader

blessings and riches, tessa

[nanenna]

This Conversation is Exactly as it Should've Been

Sleepy King AU Masterpost

Slight change in chapter title because with this brand new POV we finally have someone being reasonable!

🌟✨💖✨🌟

Duke was in the middle of his midday patrol when he got B's alert. “Come to the Watchtower, O will brief.”

Ominous, but not overly so. Nothing about the message said it was super urgent, so Duke turned back but kept an eye on the streets below as he switched to Oracle's channel.

“Hey O, what's the sitch?”

“Oh boy, do I have a story for you!”

Two attempted muggings and one long explanation later…

“So B wants me up there… to be the Ghost King's welcoming committee?”

“You guessed it!”

“What.”

“B thinks Danny will be more comfortable with another teenager, once you're up there just guide him to the hangar and wave as he and whoever's on the craft leave.”

Duke switched out his helmet for a domino, it would help not hide his age, and got into the zeta tube, “And where is this guy?”

“Let me patch you into the team's channel.”

Duke set his comms to listening only, he knew how B operated.

“Kal,” came B's deep voice, “where is Danny right now?”

“Why?” Superman asked. 

“So we can have someone nearby to guide Danny.”

“Wouldn't I be the best option?”

“No.”

There was an awkward moment of silence before some else spoke up. “Danny did run from you.”

“I have contacted an associate closer to his age, he's ready to go meet Danny.”

Superman sighed, “Of course you did. Anti-possession charm?”

“It's part of our standard equipment.”

That was news to Duke, he should ask about that later. Superman rattled off a floor number and directions to a storage room. Duke obligingly followed the directions.

“Danny spotted, he's out of the closet.” 

Duke couldn't help snorting at O's joke. “Good for him!”

“Shush, he's heading towards you, just keep heading down the hall. And remember, play dumb.”

Duke could do that. He rounded a corner to see a brightly glowing mass of shadows shambling down the hall. The figure themself was a slightly greenish white, like a glacier put through a color filter, hair face and all. Their eyes were two neon green flashlights, like the Lazarus pits or kryptonite. Their whole body glowed, like they'd been dipped in glow-in-the-dark paint. Their aura was dark shadows, writhing around them. There was a jagged blackhole floating over their head.

Duke blinked and instead found a pale teenager with black hair, intensely blue eyes, and wrapped up in Batman's cape with pale fingers clutching it closed.

“Oh I was not the best choice for this,” he muttered under his breath. He shook his head to finish clearing his vision, then smiled at the guy now standing a couple yards away, eyeing Duke warily. He pasted on a bright smile and waved, “Hi, I'm Signal.”

“Signal?”

“Yeah, I work out of Gotham. And from the looks of it so will you.”

“Huh?” The guy, presumably Danny, looked down to where his slippered feet were poking out the front of the cape where it parted to drag behind him on the floor.

“Batman's cape, looks like the adoption craze has struck again. B keeps bringing home new kids, there's like half a dozen of us.” Duke laughed along with the polite titters on his comms. Then he stepped closer to Danny and stage whispered, “Half of us have black hair and blue eyes, so you'll fit right in.”

Danny looked at Duke skeptically, “Do you?”

“Sure do.”

Danny didn't seem to know how to react to that.

“So, where you heading? I know the Watchtower can be pretty confusing at first.”

Danny's eyes grew big as saucers, “I'm on the Watchtower?!”

“Yeah, want a tour?”

“I… I …” Danny nodded eagerly, then hesitated. “My ride’s here.”

“Oh cool, where they at?”

“The uh… the hangar?”

“I can show you where it is.” Duke started walking, Danny fell into step next to him, still clutching B's cape. Duke let the silence sit for a minute because… 

“Marvel, Danny’s parents are ghost hunters,” B’s voice came over comms. Duke had no idea what was going on on Marvel’s end, O likely had him separated on that front.

“Are we sure sending the Ghost King home with ghost hunters is a wise idea?” Wonder Woman asked, trust her to ask the real questions.

“Yes!” Someone else said with heavy exasperation.

“They seem to have recently had a change in heart, they’ve denounced all their old work as flawed and outdated.” There was typing to go with O’s voice, likely showing everyone else said announcement.

It seemed the peanut gallery was calming down, so Duke turned his attention back to Danny. “So, you an orphan too?”

“No!” Danny sounded aghast.

“Ah, not as much a requirement as one might think. My sister, Orphan, still has both her parents, ironically enough. So does Spoiler and Batwing and Robin.”

Danny looked confused again. “Um… I'm pretty sure my ride is actually my parents.”

“That's cool, it's good to have supportive parents.”

Danny flushed, super obvious against his pale skin, but smiled happily. “Yeah.”

Danny seemed content to let the silence sit as they entered an elevator that would take them directly to the hangar. Duke wasn't done teasing yet. “So I told you my name, what's yours?”

“Oh um…” Danny looked down, “Danny.”

Duke raised an eyebrow, “Not got a code name yet,”

“No, I d- uh…” Danny's lips thinned. “Nope, just Danny. I'm not doing the whole,” a hand extended from the cape to gesture up and down Duke, “costume thing.”

Well that was an odd response, maybe Danny was the one steering the body after all. Then again, they had very little idea what Phantom looked like, and whether he considered himself a hero or was just being territorial.

“Well you don't have to if you don't want to. Lots of people with powers just lead normal lives.”

“Who said I have powers?” Danny asked defensively.

“Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed. It's still true though, as metas become more common it's going to be less common for them to go into cape work.”

“Yeah well, I don't even wear a cape.” Danny looked away with another blush.

Interesting.

Duke nudged Danny with his elbow, “You're wearing a cape eight now.”

Danny looked down and blushed all the more. “Fine, I guess I am.”

“But good choice, I don’t wear a cape either. Capes are cringe.”

Danny cringed at that, the blush coming back. So Danny does have a code name, is wearing a costume, and that included a cape at least for a little while.

The elevator slowed to a stop with a ding. The door opened into the hangar, where a small, unfamiliar craft sat in the middle of the otherwise cleared off runway. There was Captain Marvel and some people Duke didn't recognize standing near the craft. The strangers, one of whom was waving around a safety green baseball bat, seemed to be scolding Marvel, who had his hands up in surrender. Danny let out a relieved sigh as he stepped out of the elevator, quickly heading for the group.

“Danny!” One of the group said. Everyone’s attention turned to him, most of them smiling.

“Danno!” A large man in bright orange grinned and waved cheerfully. “We’ve been worried about you!”

“Hi, Dad, Mom, Jazz, Sam, Tuck,” Danny said in quick succession. “Sorry about that, I have no idea what’s going on or how I got here.”

The woman in teal turned her attention to Marvel, “Well someone was about to explain the whole situation to us, weren’t you mister champion of magic?”

Marvel grinned sheepishly, “Of course, ma’am.”

[luvyeni]

SAY CHEESE ,, 나재민

pairings ‎⸝⸝⸝ model!jaemin x fem!reader wc. 2.5k+

genre. smut

𓄷 includes ... fingering, unprotected sex, corruption kink, praise kink

「 authors note 𖹭 」 i needed a soft one , been doing cheating and yandere fics all week.

❪ masterlist! ❫

“i don't know chaewon,” you hear your roommate's footsteps padding behind you as you make your way into your bedroom— she was right on your hip as tried to close the door, pushing it open as you sat on your bed. “this is your assignment, and i don't feel comfortable doing it for you.”

your roommate whines sitting down on your bed as well. “please yn, i can't miss this internship it will be career changing, and you're the only person i know who can take photos as well as i do, maybe even better , and i know you wont try and fuck him cause you havent fucked anyone in your life.” she said, you scoffed. “why can't you text the guy and tell him you have another shoot?” you asked. “because this model is already hard to get and if i don't get this shoot im gonna fail my class.” she explained. “you passed this class last semester so you understand how much of a hard ass this teacher is.” she said.

“please yn,” she begged, “i will buy groceries for next month if you do this for me,” you thought about it, it was a good deal. “fine.” your friend smiled, clapping in excitement. “thank you, thank you so much.” she said hugging you. “okay, okay let me go.” you pulled away. “it's a two day shoot, he has his own hair and makeup team so all you have to do is show up and take pretty pictures of the pretty man.” she said. “who is this mysterious model who is so hard to get?”

“na jaemin.” she said, you knew the name; he was new to the modeling scene, but he was quickly growing, establishing himself in the cut throat industry. “how’d you manage to get him, i thought he was like london for a fashion show?” you asked. “what business does he have with a mediocre college student photoshoot?” your best friend scoffed. “ignoring the mediocre part, you know donghyuck?” you nodded, he had a crush on your roommate and was very open about it. “well he apparently knows jaemin, and he set this up for me , in exchange for a date.” you nodded. “using your assets, good for you.”

“yeah, and i didn't know this would be the only days he'd be free, and i didn't catch it until i checked my schedule.” she said standing up. “i'll text him and let him know, thank you so much.” you nodded. “Whatever, don't complain next month when it's time to shop for food.” she smiled sheepishly. “i won't promise.” she said. “now get out, i have to work on this essay that's due in like 4 hours.”

the next day was the day of the shoot, luckily you didn't have class so it wasn't a big inconvenience— the night before you made sure all your cameras were charged and working properly, thankfully they were and you were ready to go. “here's the address, you might want to get there earlier than he does so you can be ready , he's pretty busy and we don't know how long he has on his schedule.” your friend came back into your room , to which you agreed.

you got to the destination of the shoot a few hours before the shoot, cleaning up the place a bit; setting up the background and decorations. you brought a few snacks and drinks for him and his staff, also setting those out for the taking. you sent your roommate a quick message wishing her good luck with her internship, the door to the place opening. “hello?”

you looked up from your phone; he came in smiling, his team following behind him , he had this aura to him, he definitely was a model, he was attractive— very attractive, it made you kind of speechless. “h-hi.” you said, letting them come in. “you guys can set up over there.”

you finished up your texting, deciding to make yourself known for real. “hi im yn.” you watched him lift his eyebrow in confusion. “yn?” he asked. “what happened to chaewon? hyuck told me this was for her class.” chaewon didn't text him— you were gonna kill her. “it is, she had a internship today and she couldn't miss it, she also couldn't miss this shoot because then she'd fail this class and she didn't want to do that so she sent me.” jaemin watched you nervously fiddle with your finger as you explained yourself, smiling to himself. “is that okay? i can show you some of my work if it makes you comfortable.”

“no baby doll don't worry,” his words made you freeze up. “hyuck said chaewon was nice girl, so im sure she surrounds herself with other nice girls.” his eyes scanned up your body, making your cheeks heat up as he made eye contact with yours. “you seem like a nice girl.” you nodded, still flustered. “o-okay, i'm gonna go finish setting up, you guys can finish getting him ready, i brought snacks in case any of you get hungry they're over there so.” you quickly ran over to your camera. “she's cute.” his stylist said. “so adorable.” his makeup artist said, he smiled, pulling out his phone.

jaemin. your girl didn't show up, her roommate did.

hyuck. ik she text me , and told me, yn is a good girl though, she's also a photographer.

jaemin. single?

hyuck. definitely, she doesn't even come out much. why you like?

jaemin. very much.

hyuck. go for it then 😉

he watched you adjust the camera, muttering something to yourself, his stylist handed him his outfit to get changed into, he took the clothes into his hand, making his way over to you. he stood behind you, waiting for you to take notice of him. “we can get started when—” you turned around to where the boy was already standing there, extremely close, close enough where you could smell his cologne. “I have to change into my clothes.” he said. “chaewon gave me a dress code.” you nodded. “of course she did.” you looked around the studio. “there's no bathrooms in here , and i don't have the key to the one outside.”

“don't stress baby doll,” there was that nickname again, “i’ve had to change in public before, nothing knew.” he walked away leaving you confused, until you seen his arms lifting up and off his shirt went; your hands coming up to cover your eyes. “you-you're gonna get dressed here.” he laughed at you. “it's not like there's anywhere else,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “you act like you've never seen a naked man before.” you hadn't , but he didn't know that. “ju-just quickly get changed.” you fanned your heated face , he smiled.

jaemin knew you probably hadn't, he just wanted to see your reaction and he was thoroughly amused at what he was seeing. “get dressed and leave the poor girl alone.” his stylist said, slapping the back of his head. he finished changing his clothes, just as you were turning around. “great we can finally get started.”

the shoot went good, you took a bunch; a few you knew chaewon would like and a few you liked, you probably took over 100 photos of the boy; not that you were complaining, you got to stare at this gorgeous man and not look like a weirdo. “how do they look?” jaemin asked. “would you like to see?” he nodded, coming behind the camera; you showed him your laptop screen. “see?”

“you're really talented?” he watched you try and hide a smile at his praise. “you can smile baby doll, it was a compliment,” he said. “th-thank you.” you said with your head down. “which ones do you like?” he asked. “huh?” you said confused. “oh-oh well this is chaewons project so i just did what I know she likes.” he hummed, “yeah i know it's chaewons, but if it was your project, what would you choose?” you didn't realize how close he was until you could feel his breathing on your neck.

“um.” you clicked through the photos. “th-these three.” you pointed out. “oh someone likes my upper body i see?” he laughed as you turned around wide eyed, stuttering out an explanation. “don't worry i don't mind it all, i got into this business to be stared at and admired by pretty and sweet girls like you.” he said. “tell chaewon she should use these, her roommate has good taste.”

the rest of the shoot went by in a blur, soon you were cleaning up and jaemin was changing back into his comfortable clothes. “we'll go get the car ready.” he nodded, his small staff leaving the studio, leaving you and him alone; just what he wanted, he watched you talk on the phone. “i should be home soon, don't worry, yeah , no i'm not saying it, fine i love you too, bye.” you hung up. “boyfriend?” he asked, knowing the answer already. “oh no, that was chaewon.” you chuckled.

“so a pretty little thing like you don't have a boyfriend?” you shyly nodded, “like ever?” you were embarrassed. “no it's okay baby doll i'm just a bit shocked.” he said. “it's you're so pretty, I never would have imagined you were single.” he said , coming closer making you nervously turn around , but you could still get hear him getting closer until he was caging you against the table. “ja-jaemin.”

“come on pretty, let me make you feel good.” he pressed up against you. “turn around for me.” he whispered in your ear, smiling when obediently did. “good girl, you listen well.” you eyes were wide. “your staff.” he smirked. “trust, they know, don't worry about that.” his hand came up to your thigh, making its way up your skirt. “i-i’ve never done this before.” you felt his hand close to your clothed cunt. “i know pretty just relax.” you felt his hand on your mound, making you close your legs around his arms. “no.” he smiled. “you gotta keep them open if you want me to make you feel good.”

you slowly opened your legs allowing him to move again. “good girl.” he thumbed on your clit, you let out a whimper, biting your lip to cover it up. “let me hear all those pretty noises.” he pulled your panties to the side. “i'm gonna put a finger inside you, okay?” you nodded, his slowly ran his finger up your slit, before pushing his finger in. “ja-jaemin.” you moaned. “feel good?” he moved his finger in and out. “you're so wet, this pretty pussy never been played with, you're dripping all over my hand.”

you were a mess, your face was so fucked out from one finger it made him hard as a rock. “m’gonna add another one okay?” you nodded, he lifted your leg higher holding it as he added another finger. “good girl , taking two of my fingers.” he praised, you really like that, your cunt tightening around his digits. “you liked that? me praising you?” you nodded. “answer me baby doll , you like when i praise you?”

“y-yes i do.” you felt a sensation bubbling in your stomach. “ja-jaemin i feel.” you couldn't stop it from coming, your legs closing around his hand once again, as your orgasm washed over you.

jaemins eyes lit up light a child's on christmas morning as he watched you orgasm, your juices covering his finger. “there you go, cumming all over my hand.” he cursed, feeling his cock begging to be freed from his sweats. “good girl, let it all for me, fuck im so hard right now” he groaned, pressing his lip to the side of your head. “you want me to fuck you? stretch your little pussy out?”

you moaned, nodding. “pl-please.” you weren't really waiting for “the perfect guy” but right about now, you were really worked up and the way you could feel jaemins grinding his clothed cock against you— he was the perfect guy.

he lifted you on to the counter. “sh-shit.” he pulled his pants down enough to pull his cock out, hissing, the air hitting his leaky tip. “so fucking hard for you doll, ready for me?” you bit your lip as he lined his cock up to your entrance. “fuck.” he groaned as he slowly worked himself inside you. “jaemin.” you moaned, he held your hips down. “fuck don't move baby, let me do it.” he fully seethed himself inside you. “fuck, you're so tight.”

he slowly moved; your cunt barely letting him out, he was in heaven— and so were you, hold his bicep , your head thrown back as he fucked you, you never felt this sensation before, but you loved it. “please, faster.” you moaned , he smirked, speeding up. “you want more?” he groaned, his hips now slapping against yours with much force. “fuck baby doll i'll give you more.”

you could feel the counter below you shaking as he fucked into you vigorously. “that's it, take nana fat cock inside you.” he groaned, slowly losing himself. “fuck you're little pussy is so good.” he cursed. “fuck i'm gonna cum.” he moaned. “you going cum for me?” he toyed with your clit. “be a good girl and cum for me.”

and with his words and him fucking into you deeply, kissing your cervix you soon cumming hard, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your cunt tightened around him, his cursed as he came inside you. “oh fuck yn.” he sighed, his head dropping as he came, you could feel him every inch of him twitching inside you you as he covered your inside in white. “oh fuck.”

he slowly pulled out, smirking as you whimpered. “so sensitive baby.” he said, his cum leaking from your hole. “that felt good baby.” he kissed your neck. “so good if my staff weren't waiting for me, i would stuff my cock back into your pretty pussy.” smiling as you whined. “there's always tomorrow.” he said, pulling away, finally letting you get dressed.

“will you be back tomorrow?” he asked. “yeah, chaewon has another day at her internship.” he helped you pack up all your cameras. “good.” he handed you the bag. “i’ll come without my staff,” you yelped as he pulled you close. “why?”

“because after you take all the pictures you need , i don't need any distractions when i teach you to take my cock in that pretty mouth.”

©LUVYENI

[oh-no-its-bird]

Actually so attached to the mental image of team ro Tenzo, Shisui and Itachi trailing after team captain Kakashi like a trio of lost ducks.

Tbf, it's mostly Tenzo and Itachi projecting the lost duck energy, but Shisui also delights in being there. So it's like,

Itachi and Tenzo: Genuinely trailing behind Kakashi like lost puppies.

Shisui: Trailing behind Itachi and Tenzo projecting the same aura but mostly because he thinks this is the funniest thing ever

Kakashi: Denying to his dying breath that these guys are wet eyed ducklings trailing behind him like he's their mother (except Shisui, who he will occasionally acknowledge the behavior of only because he KNOWS Shisui is doing it to fuck with him. However he knows the other two are serious about it and will thus refuse to admit this is his reality ever.)

I think when they hang out or train out of masks together, it's in secluded or private places (probably in compliance with whatever ANBU privacy/subtlety rules have to exist about what context teams can hang out together under) So very few people have the proper context of seeing them all together. Especially bc, during this time, Kakashi is in that 16-18 year old doom spiral. He's starting to ease out of the depression, but his title of Friend Killer Kakashi still follows him, and he works overtime to avoid people and crowds.

So anyways that means no one really knows ab his little entourage, which means funny realization moments when people DO see them in public together.

(Someone remind me later to do a '5 times someone realized Kakashi had become a teen mother + 1 time Kakashi realized himself' fic later, that'd be so fucking funny)

The only one to be fully aware of Kakashi's little ducklings is Gai, who's been lucky enough to spot them all together more than once (mostly bc he's one of the only people Kakashi will willingly exist around for more than 10 minutes at a time when out of uniform) Otherwise, there's a handful of people who know of team Ro's attitude towards KKS (separately) Like Genma (subject to Shisui and Tenzo) and Kurenai (subject to Itachi)

"Kakashi," Kurenai asked. "Why are you hanging out with a toddler?"

Kakashi cocked his head. "I don't know. Itachi, why am I hanging out with a toddler?"

"Mother asked you to give me advice on working with my elder teammates." Itachi responded without missing a beat, and Kakashi nodded in approval.

"There you have it."

In general, I think Kakashi is probably spotted with Tenzo the most out of anyone on the team. He's like, basically his handler once he's out of ROOT, very invested in his personhood and general existence for several (political and personal) reasons, and has taken to trying to teach him how to be a real boy and whatnot now that he's in the real world. They're also close in age, and unlike Shisui (who's also close in age), Tenzo is very quiet and genuine in his respect for Kakashi. So Kakashi can genuinely just enjoy existing near Tenzo in silence without worry.

Tenzo is probably the lowkey favorite, which Itachi and Shisui are NOT bitter about, they promise.

(Shisui is actually p ok w that, he thinks Tenzo deserves it after all the shit he's been through and is happy for the clear comfort Kakashi brings to his life.

Itachi refuses to admit he's jealous ever, but years later when he is an actual, literal terrorist who hasn't seen his teammates in years, when he sees Tenzo again, he will hit him extra hard w a genjutsu special with a vague sense of satisfaction and the specific thoughts of, 'being captains favorite won't save you now, will it.')

Anyways the entire point of this post was that I want someone (possibly Genma) to refer to the members of team ro as "Kakashi's ducklings" because it'd would be funny to me personally.

That's it, end of post. Thank u for ur time.

[chuellas]

Shut Me Up | The Housekeeper generally stays in her lane. You mind your business and run the cleaners’ division of the Port Mafia with scary efficiency. But a particular Executive forces your hand and you finally have to put your foot down.

⤷ Ft. Nakahara Chuuya

Warnings | Fem!reader, mentions of alcohol, cussing, term “Doll” is used, possible minor spoilers to SB if you squint, edited but who knows how well andjajsjjas, WC: 4.5k

A/N | LONG TIME NO FIC POST I AM SO PROUD OF THIS ONE I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY READING IT AS MUCH AS I ENJOYED WRITING IT <33 Stay tuned at the end for a description of readers ability !!

Working for the Port Mafia has always been messy — having a whole division dedicated to cleaning up the chaos that this organization's members create is a testament to that. Most days are busy, dispatching several teams in an hour is normal for you when you’re head of the division and work directly with the elite teams and the executives. Well, the executives minus Ace, he evidently prefers his subordinates to do the cleaning up for him. You’ve always been suspicious of the vile and loathsome snake, but that’s above your paygrade and qualifications to worry about. You’re sure the boss knows what he’s doing.

With all that being said, despite the nature of your role, you generally like to mind your own business. That’s one of the reasons why you were given this division in the first place, you’re efficient and you never asked any questions. You’ve been commended for the trait and pride yourself in not getting involved in your assignments.

But even you have your limits. 

Today has been particularly busy — obscenely busy actually. You’ve been nonstop taking dispatches for the Black Lizard and one specific Executive. He just got back from a mission in the west and apparently things didn’t go as planned. It’s par for the course, you’ve heard he’s been known to have a bit of a short temper, one that he likes to take out on the Port Mafia’s enemies but it’s never been this bad. Usually it’s an extra one or two teams being dispatched, not your entire crew. You have to wonder what set him off so badly that he’s dropping bodies left and right, much to your dismay. 

Whatever it was, Nakahara Chuuya has now successfully made it your problem too.

Your phone rings again and the same caller ID pops up for the fourth time this hour, which causes your left eye to twitch in vexation as you reach over to pick up the line. “This is the Housekeeper.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, displaying a clear signal of irritation—not that the person on the other side of the phone can tell—and you can feel the telltale signs of a migraine coming on. Your vision whites out for a split second and when it comes back, everything is rimmed in a multi-colored aura. You were supposed to go out with a few colleagues for dinner and some drinks tonight but at this point you think that plan has gone straight out the window. All you want to do now, after this dreadfully long day, is go home and rot on your couch or in your bed.

You internally curse Nakahara Chuuya for ruining your rare after work plans. You’re not even sure you’ll get out of the office at all tonight with the way things are playing out, let alone in time to meet up with your colleagues. Why do you have to pay the price for this grown ass man’s tantrum?

Men.

“Hello, Otetsudai-san.” Your mood lifts a little at the sound of Akutagawa Gin’s gentle voice, but then you can feel the way your body physically reacts, blood pressure spiking at the reminder of why she would would be calling and the pressure goes right to your already aching head—you’re officially nursing a migraine. “I’m sorry for all of the trouble you’ve been put through today, but we do have another scene that needs to be cleaned up…”

You let out a heavy sigh. “Right. Text me the coordinates and I’ll send my final team. You better let your executive know that this is the last team available. He needs to slow down. Your only other option is having myself personally come out to get my hands dirty and, trust me, he doesn’t want that.”

Gin swears to deliver your message and hangs up to promptly send you the promised coordinates. You’re quick to dispatch your only available team and sit back in your chair. You should be checking on the progress of your other teams but you need a break. A shooting pain runs through your temple when you think about the amount of reports you’re going to have to fill out just from the executive and his team alone.  

You think you wouldn't be so bothered by all of this if it wasn’t for the fact that the executive hasn’t bothered to personally call or contact you himself. He’s made his mess yours and his subordinates' problem, as if he’s too good to be bothered himself. The thought alone makes you scowl. His obvious arrogance puts you off and works you up even more than it probably should but you’re tired and annoyed and your head hurts thanks to this man. The least he could do is talk to you personally and thank you for your hard work.

You think it’s far too often that your division is taken for granted, as well as the mailmen. No one has proper appreciation for your work. No one seems to understand that without the cleaners and the mailmen, this organization wouldn’t run as smoothly as it does.

It’s insulting, you really need to have a word with the Boss about this and maybe devise a plan in which each member (including executives) takes a day to work in each division to better appreciate the hard work you all do, but before you can do that you have to get through this god awful day. You pick up your phone for the umptieth time and check in on the crews you have assigned to the several messes that have been made today and none of them have finished. You could pull some teams from other assignments but that would run the potential risk of falling short in staff for other divisions just because some ginger with questionable taste in head accessories is having a bad day. You refuse to let that happen.

Maybe you should consider cutting the executive off, for the day at least. You’ve been allowed the liberty by Mori himself to cut anyone off from your services that gives you a particularly hard time. luckily, you’ve never even considered it, let alone been forced to exercise the right to cut someone off. You cannot believe this carrot topped, below average height, freckled freak of a man is making you consider changing your stance on your right to refuse services.

Not even twenty minutes after Gin called, you receive yet another message from her alerting you of another scene that needs your attention. 

That’s it, you’ve had enough of this. If the ginger wants to throw a fit that’s fine by you but you’ll be damned if you continue to let him make it everyone else’s  problem, but more specifically your problem. You decide this man is going to get a piece of your mind whether he  likes it or not. You request both the coordinates and that Nakahara Chuuya be present for your arrival at the scene before getting up from your desk and calling for an escort.

Chuuya is irritated beyond belief, his patience is nonexistent today and now he has to wait for this “Housekeeper” person to show up. He doesn’t have the time for this. The longer he spends waiting around to speak with this asshole, the more time the Yokohama branches of the organization he met with abroad have to flee. He can’t let that happen. The traitors need to face the consequences of their actions for sloppily selling Port Mafia secured information to their rivaling organizations.

He’s already taken care of their overseas branch, now he needs to wipe out their entire domestic operations. He’s already behind schedule, he should’ve been done by this time, but now he has to send out more teams in his place because someone needs to have a word with him and apparently he isn’t allowed to leave the scene until that conversation happens in person. At least, that’s what Gin told him and she’s not one to exaggerate unlike her brother who frequently gets carried away.

The current scene is an abandoned factory building—or, the remnants of an abandoned factory, Chuuya has no time to care about how neatly things are done right now, he just needs to get them done. Although, he does have to admit, this job was particularly messy and maybe Chuuya shouldn’t have used his ability to knock down the entire structure, but again he is in a hurry and it’s not like anyone was using the building. Really, he was doing the city a favor by demolishing that factory for free. However, the ginger knows that the Housekeeper isn’t going to be happy about it.

“Is this a goddamn joke?! What the hell is all of this?!” A shrill voice pierces through the sound of waves hitting the nearby cliffs. 

Chuuya winces, he hates how right he can be sometimes, and whips around to find the owner of the voice to be a neatly dressed woman no older than himself—maybe even younger. He’s not sure why, maybe it has to do with the fact that Kouyou is the only woman of power that he knows in the Port Mafia (one thing that has really never sat right with him due to the fact that it reeks of misogyny) or maybe it’s because of how efficiently the cleaners run, Chuuya has always been under the impression that the Housekeeper was an older man. One that held the same stature as someone like Hirotsu. It makes the executive wonder who her predecessor might have been and what they did to have such a young woman set to replace them.

Thankfully Gin has intercepted her and is seemingly trying to deescalate whatever fit the division head seems to be having. Why Chuuya has to be here for that is a mystery to him. His patience is waning even further at the fact that this Housekeeper seems hellbent on wasting the executive’s time.

The division head and Gin exchange a few more words before the (possibly?) older woman’s head swivels to the side, her sharp gaze narrowed in his direction. Suddenly he feels uncomfortable in his own skin, entirely too seen, a chill running through him that he can only explain as a sort of intimidation. Chuuya doesn’t get intimidated easily, he finds it hard too when he is both the strongest fighter and ability user in the entire organization. He hasn’t felt something like this in quite some time. Only one other person that still resides in the Port Mafia has made Chuuya experience this feeling and that was Mori Ougai himself, the boss of the entire Port Mafia. Besides the older man, there is only one other person that has elicited this kind of reaction from Chuuya.

Now he has to add one more person to that list. 

She moves with a sort of elegance that the ginger would expect from a dancer or a fighter, but with her stature and fragile frame, Chuuya couldn’t imagine this woman ever fighting. So a dancer then, she has to be, with movements as calculated and light as her’s there is no other explanation. The ginger realizes he’s blatantly sizing her up just a little too late, the expression on her face tells him she notices. The deep set scowl etched onto her face gives that away pretty easily. 

She crosses her arms over her chest and looks at him in obvious contempt. “Nakahara-san.”

“Housekeeper, I assume?” You nod your head at him, confirming his obvious suspicions about your identity, clearly it wasn’t really that hard to figure out with the way you made your entrance a bit of a spectacle. 

If your outburst when you first got here wasn’t an indication, the look on your face solidifies your clear annoyance with the executive. Chuuya internally flinches at the thought, he generally tries to stay on the good side of other members of the Port Mafia, always being respectful no matter the position, unless otherwise provoked. The last thing he wants is to have offended someone so vital in how efficiently the Port Mafia operates. 

Chuuya can’t imagine the delays in assignments if they didn’t have the cleaners to sort the messes for them or the mailman division to deliver important messages that cannot be delivered through a phone. Judging by your appearance here though, he has decidedly not made a good impression on you. Your presence alone was already a huge neon sign displaying that, the scowl on your face is enough to let the executive know he has in fact disrespected you in some way or another. The thought alone is enough to make the nausea settle in, feeling physically ill as his stomach churns uncomfortably.

“…You’re upset.” Admittedly, that’s not the brightest vocal observation Chuuya has ever made but something about you makes him nervous and it’s the best he could muster at this moment.

Your jaw tightens and your left eye twitches ever so slightly. “How very astute of you, Nakahara-san. It doesn’t matter who you are, where do you get off on ordering your subordinates to do the dirty work for you? Poor Gin alone has contacted me more in one day than she ever has in her entire time with the Port Mafia. Your arrogance truly astounds me. Y’know, I have never had someone so blatantly disrespect me and my division quite like you have today, congratulations. I’m highly disappointed, I’ve heard countless people rave about how respectful you are, but I suppose everyone has their limitations, right? Your courtesies clearly only extend to members that join you on the field and not for the aftermath.”

Your words cut into Chuuya’s chest like razor sharp blades. He does pride himself in his ability to respect others so outwardly, his words and actions always carefully mapped out. He didn’t start learning about proper etiquette until his mid to late teens, going from a street rat running a gang of other children from the streets to attending high society galas was a culture shock to say the least. It was hard for him to adjust, took years of constant guidance from Ane-san to completely sand away at the rough edges that once defined him.

So the notion that he would look down on anyone lower than him in the chain of command in the Port Mafia is laughable at best. However, the executive isn’t too sure that now is the best time to bring that up. Your anger is tangible as is, maybe it’s best that he keeps his mouth shut and lets you get your frustrations out. 

The longer you prattle on about your grievances toward the executive, the more Chuuya finds himself shocked at just how much he’s okay with it. His lips are parted slightly as he watches you in awe, waving your hands around to emphasize the way you’re harshly scolding him. It stirs something inside of him that’s slightly concerning.

Is he attracted to this? Or are you really just that beautiful when you’re angry?

Chuuya decides he would like to find out.

The ginger has to find out.

“Not all of us live, breathe, and eat the Port Mafia. Some of us would like to have a life outside of this organization and what you’re doing here today is hindering me from being able to obtain that healthy work to life balance ratio. I don’t care if you’re an executive—I wouldn’t care if you were the boss himself—I deserve the decency of getting a heads up from you personally that my teams were going to need to be prepared for a tantrum of this magnitude. Wouldn’t you agree?” Your shoulders visibly deflate, the tension in your body dissipating after finally voicing your issues with the way the ginger was handling this operation, but your gaze is still sharp and expectant, clearly wanting an answer to your question.

Chuuya can’t say he disagrees, after reflecting he has acted like a huge dick, making a mockery of you by not extending any sort of common decency towards you. Instead of speaking, Chuuya removes his hat from his head with his right hand and crosses his arm over his chest to rest the head accessory over his heart. He kneels down to bow formally and suddenly all the chatter from his subordinates ceases, everything going eerily quiet.

You splutter in embarrassment at his show and look around awkwardly. 

“I deeply apologize, Otetsudai-san, for both the disrespect and for ruining your after work plans. I agree, I should have allowed you the courtesy of being prepared for this—” Chuuya can’t help himself and peers up at you with an amused grin as he chooses his next words. “What was it that you called it? Tantrum.”

You bristle at his words, already flustered as your face flushes deeper. “You’re a Scoundrel, Nakahara Chuuya. I will be veiling this mess you’ve made and any others from this point forward until my teams can finish up at the other locations. I expect a direct phone call from you and no one else. Unless you feel like cleaning up your own messes. Do I make myself clear, Scoundrel?”

Chuuya chuckles at your retort and nods his head as he raises back to his feet, placing his hat back on his head. “Crystal clear, Otetsudai-san.”

You roll your eyes at him with a huff and spin on the balls of your feet, waving dismissively at him as you walk away. Chuuya relishes in your reaction, finding it quite endearing with the way a blush blooms at the tips of your ears and travels down to the back of your exposed neck. Even in your plain clothing and slicked back hairstyle, there’s no denying the fact that you have this natural beauty that shines through all of that. Maybe that’s why you make him so nervous, the executive doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone quite like you. 

He’s utterly captivated. 

His phone ringing lifts him out of his stupor, eyes never leaving your figure as he reaches into his pocket and answers the call. It’s Akutagawa—he’d stepped in for Chuuya when he couldn’t resume with this assignment himself thanks to your request. The executive picks up the phone, only half listening to the younger man’s mission report as you activate your ability. He watches in wonder as you make the rubble from the fallen factory completely disappear. 

Dangerously captivating.

It’s been a week since you personally met the notorious executive/scoundrel, Nakahara Chuuya, in the flesh and you no longer know what to think of him.

Maybe you’d have a better chance of doing any sort of thinking if it weren’t for the overwhelming floral scent swirling around inside of your office. Thirteen bouquets, all a variety of flowers from lilies to carnations to even dahlias. This was getting ridiculously out of hand. The first few deliveries were a pleasant surprise, but by the seventh delivery, you were completely out of surface area to set the massive and intricate bouquets down onto.

You feel like you’re swimming in a sea of petals. What’s worse is that, whether it’s a specific flower or all of their scents and pollen being combined together like this, something in here is making your allergies act up. Your sinuses are either clogged or leaking like a faucet, there has been no in between, and your eyes. They were starting to become unbearable with how itchy they’ve become. You’ve tried opening the windows but the clutter in your office is masking the fresh air and hardly doing anything to help.

The clutter is so bad that you had to start using chairs to house all of the flowers that were slowly but surely infesting your work space. The absolute worst part of this all, though, is that your subordinates have started whispering about the relationship between you and Chuuya. You too would love to know what that is because as of right now you’re completely unaware of your own standing with him. Last you checked he was simply some stupidly overpowered arrogant asshole that just so happens to have a pretty smile and striking eyes. Of course you don’t tell them that last part but you’re quick to remind them of the first part. 

They clearly don’t buy it, how could they when the flowers continue to flood in, the evidence overwhelmingly stacked against you.

Treacherous flowers.

Nakahara Chuuya is truly a pain in your ass, a bug crawling under your skin, a thorn in your side. 

Your secretary scurries in with an unusually nervous look on her face and you check the time while letting out a sigh. Six in the evening on the dot. That’s when the second bouquet has been arriving every day for the past six days. 

You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation, you take a deep breath but it only serves to wound you up further when the strong floral scent causes your head to spin. “Sign for the flowers and you can just keep them at your desk, I couldn’t care less.”

“Aw…You’re breaking my heart, Doll. Did you not like my flowers? Would you have preferred I sent you treats from Paris instead?”

Your eyes fly open at the sound of his smooth voice, you’re sure it’s comical how they almost bug out of your head because even your secretary has to stifle a giggle. To her credit she does catch herself but it’s too late and you give her a wilted look, completely mortified. She bows her head and backs out of the room, probably on her way to tell the others what just transpired.

He said Paris. As in, Paris, France? As in the City of Love? Who does this guy think he is? Casanova? It’s bold of him to assume you’re easily swayed by grand romantic gestures. Jokes on him, you aren’t huge on the lover girl aesthetic or mentality. You’re simply exhausted and maybe just a little emotionally unstable.

You thought your outburst and chewing him out last week was enough of an indication of that.

Your gaze finally focuses on the ginger and what he’s holding. A bouquet of red roses. You want to roll your eyes—you do roll your eyes at him, you can’t help it considering the absurdity of it all. Red roses. Seriously? And of course he’s standing there with that stupid ass smirk and a mischievous glint in his bicolored eyes.

You let out a scoff through your nose. “You expect me to believe that a scoundrel like you had these flowers flown in from France?”

You’re decidedly unnerved by the way his smirk turns into an amused grin and his eyes soften with a fondness that catches you off guard. You don’t think anyone has ever looked at you that way. It makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

“You think too little of me—kinda hurts, y’know?” Chuuya fakes a pained expression that’s surprisingly convincing—or it would be if it weren’t for the fact that his tone gives away his clear amusement. “No, I expect you to believe that every day for the last seven days, I have been personally going to France myself and picking out the bouquets and traveling back.”

You blanch at this revelation, eyes once again turning into cartoonish orbs on your face and mouth hanging open in utter disbelief. “Why would you go through all that trouble just for me?”

Suddenly you feel a pit in your stomach churning and it makes you nauseous. Guilt starts chewing you from the inside out as you realize all that he’s done to try and prove to you he’s sorry. You start to feel bad about ever thinking ill of him.

You looked into him. Two days ago your request for Chuuya’s personal files were authorized and Mori called you up to his office to hand the folder to you himself. You were shocked, having expected your on-a-whim request to be denied. So, when he had a strange gleam in his eye, his amusement palpable, you knew something was suspicious but you couldn’t figure out what. He sensed your hesitation and an even more unsettling grin curled at his lips.

He said something about how years ago, Chuuya’s files had been taken, unauthorized and this was his way of repaying that.

It was an odd interaction and maybe Mori was actually telling the truth. Or maybe the man was just bored. It doesn’t matter now, because either way you regret reading his file. Knowing where Chuuya came from, that he was not only a child abandoned on the streets, but he was…God you can’t even think about it without a wave of sadness washing over you. All of that contempt you held for him previously has completely dissipated.

You definitely shouldn’t have read his file.

Chuuya’s entire face softens, he almost looks embarrassed—no, he does look embarrassed. The slight dusting of blush blooming onto his cheeks and his free hand rubbing the back of his neck are all telltale signs of how flustered he is by your question. Maybe even the answer he has for it too.

“I think it’s pretty important for you to like me, or at least to tolerate me. Someone in your position deserves respect and I’m sorry my first impression was lacking. I’m also sorry for fucking with your plans. Let me make it up to you?”

He looks at you expectantly and you can’t help the incredulous laugh that slips past your lips as you shake your head, an involuntary smile creeping onto your face and brightening your features. “If these flowers were just the precursor to your apology, do I even wanna know what the real apology is? Anyone ever tell you that subtlety isn’t your strong suit?” 

“Nah, don’t think it’s ever come up. But…Let me take you out for dinner and drinks. On my dime of course.” 

You watch him fiddle with his bottom lip, scraping it nervously between his teeth, not quite biting it. You ponder on his question before coming to a realization. Today was oddly slow for you, which means it was a slow day for the mafia altogether. You can’t help but wonder if that had anything to do with the man standing nervously before you, still holding that damn bouquet of roses. You let out a sigh of defeat and tip toe over to the ginger, plucking the bouquet from his hand.

You bring the flowers up to your nose and inhale deeply, the scent of roses overpowering the rest of the other flowers. Despite never being a romantic, the scent of roses has always been your favorite. You peer up at Chuuya through your lashes and you swear you hear his breath catch in his throat.

“I suppose I can spare one night to dine with a scoundrel.”

⤷ More on reader’s ability |  Fukai Mask (Masks by Fumiko Enchi) - An ability to mask objects or a surrounding scene. This ability allows its user to also mask herself from others but she cannot apply her own ability to other living things apart from plants. The mask acts as a veil that hides things from the naked eye as well as making the objects or user permeable. When the user has the ability activated only she is able to see what’s been hidden. The ability can be activated in more than one scene at a time as long as the user has physically been there before but while the ability is being used externally, the user cannot mask her presence and vice versa.

[vrtualchg]

FORMULA FOR DISASTER

Y/N's failing chemistry—barely clinging to a passing grade and much more interested in lip gloss than Lewis structures. Naturally, her teacher assigns the school’s golden boy, Peter Parker, to tutor her. He’s top of the class, painfully polite, and irritatingly hot in that awkward, cardigan-wearing, accidentally-dominant kind of way. What starts as a tutoring session quickly spirals into something way more intense. She’s a teasing, pouty distraction in miniskirts and pink gel pens; he’s a tightly wound genius with too much self-control for his own good. But when she tests him—grinding in his lap, pouting over pop quizzes, and whispering "punish me, Professor Parker"—he snaps. Hard. Suddenly, chemistry isn’t just a subject—it’s a game of rewards and consequences. A slow, burning power play where every right answer gets her praise, and every wrong one earns her discipline. Over his thigh, bent over the desk, drooling on her own notes—he teaches her in every way she’ll let him. She wanted extra credit. Peter made sure she earned it.

pairing: Peter Parker x reader

genre: smut, academic tension, tutor/student dynamic, slow-burn to full burn, dom!Peter

Authors note: yes I know they’re doing basic chemistry. Piss off.

tw: MDNI 18+, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, choking, overstimulation, slight dubcon (consensual but bratty), possessive behavior, thigh riding, dry humping, praise & degradation, use of “good girl,” reader being a brat, Peter being accidentally dominant, teacher kink/“Professor Parker,” light degradation, hand on tummy during creampie, power imbalance (soft), aftercare tease, cheeky texting, nerd x bimbo dynamic (kind of), reader failing chemistry but not failing to seduce

bot version: PETER PARKER - nerdy

Peter Parker had long since accepted his fate as Midtown High’s unofficial poster boy for all things academically torturous. Honors student, science team prodigy, volunteer tutor, human calculator—you name it. If the school had a nerd hierarchy, he sat comfortably at the top, which, ironically, meant he had very few people below him and absolutely no one standing beside him.

So, naturally, when the chemistry teacher—exhausted and probably two missed paychecks away from snapping—needed someone to babysit a failing student, she turned to her ever-reliable go-to: “Peter, you're so gifted in this subject. Why don't you help her out?”

Her being Y/N.

Y/N: pink-acrylic-nails-tapping-on-her-phone-screen Y/N. Miss can’t-pass-chemistry-but-somehow-has-a-closet-bigger-than-his-entire-apartment Y/N. The kind of girl who showed up to school in designer sneakers and lip gloss that probably cost more than his entire monthly grocery budget. She wasn’t mean, exactly. Not the stereotypical Regina George knockoff people expected from girls like her. But she was exhausting in a way that felt deliberate—always flippant, always dramatic, and somehow always surrounded by this faint glitter-scented aura of chaos.

Peter should’ve said no. Should’ve bowed out, claimed he was too busy with Stark internship work or homework or literally anything else. But no. Because Peter Parker was pathologically polite, emotionally guilt-tripped by authority, and—for reasons he hadn’t yet admitted to himself—just a little too curious about her.

Which was why he now found himself sitting uncomfortably stiff on the edge of a designer couch that probably had a name. A French name. Her house—mansion, really—was the kind of place that belonged in movies where the girl dramatically descends a staircase during prom season. High ceilings, gold-accented crown molding, a literal chandelier in the foyer. He was half-convinced the doorknobs were real crystal.

Jesus Christ, even her WiFi is probably fast enough to download a Marvel movie in 10 seconds, he thought, adjusting his glasses and trying not to look impressed.

And then she walked in.

“Ugh,” she groaned theatrically, her glossy lips forming a perfect pout as she tossed her books onto the pristine desk like they’d offended her. “Why does chemistry even matter? I’m not trying to become a periodic table.”

Peter blinked slowly, fighting the urge to smile in that way he always did when people said stupid things with full conviction.

“Right,” he muttered, deadpan. “Because atoms are so last season.”

She ignored the sarcasm, flopping into her chair with a huff loud enough to echo against her crystal candle holders. Her hair was half-pulled up with a velvet scrunchie, her phone glittered in its pink rhinestone case, and her entire aura screamed sugar and fire.

Peter gave her a look. A long, tired, vaguely judgmental look.

Same, his brain whispered.

She blinked at him, then stood up with dramatic flair—bare feet patting softly against the plush carpet—and dragged over another chair from across the room. Not just any chair. A plush, bubblegum-pink monstrosity with bows carved into the wooden legs and little heart buttons stitched into the backrest.

It looked like it had been stolen from Barbie’s dream house.

She plopped it beside her desk chair and patted the seat like she was inviting him to sit on a throne.

“There. Come on, Parker. Tutor me.”

“Is this... my assigned seat?” he asked dryly, staring at the chair like it might swallow him whole.

“Obviously,” she said, smiling sweetly. “What, too much pink for you?”

“I didn’t know chairs could be weaponized.”

“Maybe I’ll bedazzle it for you next time,” she teased, twirling one of her earrings with practiced disinterest.

Peter sighed, muttering something under his breath about human suffering, and finally sat down beside her. Their knees almost touched. She was warm—too warm for someone who always acted like she didn’t care about anything. And he could smell her perfume, something sweet and citrusy and wildly inappropriate for studying.

He glanced sideways at her as she opened her notebook and stared at it like it had personally wronged her.

This was going to be a long afternoon.

But for some reason, he wasn’t all that mad about it.

Peter leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk, and flipped open his own battered textbook—the spine cracked, corners dog-eared, and annotated to hell with color-coded tabs. The difference between their supplies was... comical. Hers looked like it had never been opened for anything other than aesthetic purposes. Pink-tinted, untouched, and almost offensively sparkly.

He glanced over as she pulled her own books from her bag, and—of course. Covered in shimmery pastel paper, sticker-bombed with little hearts, cartoon cherries, and one aggressively winking Hello Kitty near the corner. She opened the notebook with a flutter of manicured fingers, and he nearly snorted when he saw the pages inside.

Everything—everything—was written in pink gel pen. Curly loops. Puffy lettering. A couple hearts dotting her i’s.

He tilted his head slightly, brow raised. “Do you have a vendetta against black ink?”

She blinked, looked down at her notes like she genuinely hadn’t noticed, and shrugged. “Black’s boring,” she said, twirling the pen between her fingers. “And pink makes me pay attention more.”

“Right,” Peter said, lips twitching. “Because neon ink definitely improves focus and memory retention.”

“I’m a visual learner,” she said innocently, batting her lashes. “Pink makes the mitochondria easier to remember.”

He looked at her, entirely deadpan. “The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. That’s not even chemistry.”

“Oh my God, whatever,” she groaned, dramatically slumping in her chair. “See, this is why I said I suck at this. I literally don't get what magnesium is. Why do I need to know what it is? I’m not trying to be, like, a magnesium... person.”

Peter blinked. “A chemist?”

“Yeah, that,” she said with a small pout, like the word had personally offended her. “Can’t I just, like, skip this part and move on with my life?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Magnesium is literally a basic element. It’s kind of unavoidable. It’s in your body. Your bones. Your cells.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So I am magnesium?”

“In a sense, yes.”

She made a face. “That’s gross.”

Peter couldn’t help it—he laughed. Actually laughed, soft and surprised, like the sound had been dragged out of him. She turned her head quickly, eyes catching his in a way that made something in his chest tighten for reasons he’d rather not unpack.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she said, though her lips were curling upward.

“I’m not laughing at you,” he said, still grinning. “Just... with a deep, deep sense of secondhand concern.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and he rolled his eyes, but the smile lingered. Something about her was infectious—loud and ridiculous, but weirdly sincere. She didn’t pretend to understand anything she didn’t, didn’t try to impress him with fake interest in formulas or elements. She was just unapologetically her. Loud. Sparkly. Utterly allergic to science.

And for some reason... it didn’t irritate him the way it should.

“Okay,” he said, taking a breath and adjusting the textbook. “Let’s start small. Magnesium’s an element on the periodic table. Symbol Mg. Atomic number twelve. It's an alkaline earth metal.”

She blinked, eyes glossing over almost instantly.

Peter paused. “...Which means it’s shiny and kinda chill.”

That got a smirk. “Like me.”

He gave her a look. “Magnesium also catches fire if you heat it up too much.”

Her smirk widened. “Like me.”

Peter stared at her, utterly unimpressed. “You’re literally a danger to chemistry.”

“And you’re a danger to fun,” she shot back, but it was playful. Teasing. Her eyes sparkled when she was being bratty, like she knew exactly what she was doing—and, God help him, it was working.

He cleared his throat and glanced back at the book. Focus. You’re here to teach. Not flirt. Definitely not to flirt with someone who probably thinks electrons are a TikTok trend.

Still, he couldn’t stop the thought as he glanced sideways at her again, catching the way she chewed lightly on the end of her glitter pen, eyes squinting at the page like the words were written in ancient Greek.

This was going to be painful.

But maybe... not in a bad way.

“Explain it to me in girl language, Pete,” she said, leaning a little closer, the curve of her pout deliberate and devastating.

Peter blinked at her, blinking twice just to be sure he wasn’t hallucinating how cute she looked when she did that. He wished she’d stop doing that thing with her mouth—the slight downturn, the soft lip jut, the puppy-dog eyes like he was the last person who could save her from the terrifying mysteries of magnesium. It wasn’t fair. It was a weapon.

“Girl language?” he repeated flatly, like someone who had just been asked to translate quantum physics into emojis.

She nodded earnestly, ponytail swishing behind her like this was some innocent favor instead of a personal attack on his willpower. “Yeah. Girl language. You know, like—pink-coded. Digestible. Fun.”

Peter stared at her like he was actively buffering. “You want me to translate chemistry... into girl.”

“Exactly!” she chirped, smiling like he’d just caught up. “Because all this periodic table, proton-neutron talk is, like, too much. You’ve gotta speak to me in a language I actually get.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Dragged a hand down his face, then slowly leaned back in his pink torture-throne of a chair.

“I’m going to regret this,” he muttered under his breath.

She grinned wider. “You already do. Now go on, Professor Barbie. Make it sparkle.”

Peter gave her a look that could curdle milk. Then, with a sigh so deep it came from his soul, he turned toward her fully and began, “Okay. Magnesium—Mg—is, like... the chill, underrated best friend of the periodic table. Not flashy like gold or dramatic like sodium, but still essential. Very supportive. Gives your bones strength. Helps your muscles move. Keeps your heart from, y’know, stopping. So basically? It’s like... the bestie who’s always holding your hair back when you cry after making bad decisions.”

Her eyes lit up. “Ooh, so she’s, like, the backbone friend. Silent ride-or-die. Not a main character, but necessary. Love that for her.”

Peter blinked. “You’re... actually getting this?”

“Bitch, yes. Magnesium is the bitch who holds my life together. I’m obsessed now.”

He tried not to laugh, but a sound escaped—half-snort, half-wheeze. He shook his head, eyes dropping to her glitter-smudged notebook, and then up again to her face, where she was looking at him like he’d just solved world peace.

“Okay,” he said, humoring her, “let’s keep going. Next up is calcium. Another ride-or-die. Works with magnesium. They’re, like, co-dependent besties.”

“So they’re Elle and Paulette.”

“...Who?”

She gasped. “Peter. ‘Legally Blonde’? Bend and snap?”

He stared blankly.

She looked personally offended. “Oh my God, we’re fixing that. You’re watching it next time. No wonder you’re sad all the time.”

“I’m not sad all the time.”

“You are scientifically the saddest boy I know.”

Peter bit back another smile, biting the inside of his cheek as she scrawled “Mg = BACKBONE BADDIE” in pink ink across the top of her notes.

He couldn’t decide if he was in hell or rapidly descending into something way worse—something that felt like liking her.

But then she scooted a little closer, her knee bumping gently into his, and smiled at him like he wasn’t just a tutor but a secret she was starting to enjoy keeping.

And suddenly, Peter wasn’t so sure he wanted to be anywhere else.

Peter kept talking, though at this point, he wasn’t entirely sure if he was teaching chemistry or performing a live spoken-word act called Science for Brats: The Glitter Edition. Still, he powered through—explaining molecular bonds and electron shells in his best attempt at “girl language,” which apparently consisted of metaphors involving friend groups, ex-boyfriends, and Sephora membership tiers.

It shouldn’t have worked.

But it did.

Except… she wasn’t writing any of it down anymore.

He’d noticed the subtle stillness at first—the soft stop of her glitter pen, the way her elbow relaxed from where it had been poised over her notebook. When he finally glanced up, she wasn’t even pretending to look at her notes. She was just... watching him. Chin resting in her hand, eyes locked on his face like he was explaining the formula for eternal youth, not atomic structure.

He trailed off mid-sentence.

“What?” he asked cautiously, brows drawing together. “Why are you staring at me like I just offered you a Dior lip gloss or a Birkin bag?”

She tilted her head, smiling in that lazy, dangerous way that always meant trouble. “You kinda sound hot. Like, nerdy hot.”

Peter blinked. Once. Twice. His brain short-circuited for a second, skipping over logical processing and heading straight into full system error. “You’re not serious.”

She was. God, the look on her face made that painfully clear—coy, amused, and just a little bit predatory. She shifted slightly, turning toward him in a graceful sprawl that should not have been as mesmerizing as it was. One leg tucked under her, the other stretching lazily out to the side. Her pleated skirt shifted higher along her thigh as she moved—dangerously high—and Peter’s brain promptly fell off a cliff.

“Oh, I’m very serious,” she said sweetly, voice dipped in honey and challenge. “If more of my classes were taught by awkward, hot nerd boys who talk about electrons like it’s foreplay, I’d be graduating with honors.”

“I’m not—” he started, horrified, “—I’m not hot. That’s not—no.”

“Debatable,” she said with a one-shouldered shrug, like it wasn’t even a question. “Anyway, you should say ionization energy again. That was kind of sexy.”

Peter stared at her, visibly struggling to maintain composure. His mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again, because he had to correct her, obviously, because that’s what tutors do, even when they’re being flirted with by a very-pretty-very-annoying girl in a skirt that’s suddenly his mortal enemy.

“It’s ionization energy,” he corrected weakly. “Not... ‘ionizatain.’ That’s not even—God.”

“Oh my God,” she mocked softly, mimicking his voice with a teasing smirk. “Say it slower, Professor Parker.”

Peter scrubbed a hand over his face, ears going pink. His entire posture shifted—shoulders tense, back rigid, eyes darting anywhere that wasn’t her thighs.

“I came here to help you pass chemistry,” he muttered. “Not be... verbally assaulted.”

“Assaulted? Peter, please. You’re blushing like a Disney prince who just saw ankle for the first time.”

“I am not blushing.”

“You so are. It’s cute. Like your little ‘serious tutor’ voice.”

He groaned and slumped back in the pink chair, defeated. “You’re impossible.”

“And you,” she said, leaning forward until her perfume clouded his thoughts, “are hot when you’re mad.”

Peter didn’t respond. Couldn’t. His brain had officially disconnected from the rest of his body, and all he could do was sit there, blinking, as she smirked at him like she’d just won a game he hadn’t even known they were playing.

Somewhere, buried under all that panic and embarrassment and mental chaos, was the very faintest flicker of pride.

Because if nothing else... she was definitely paying attention now.

“Are you gonna punish me, Professor Parker?” she asked with a giggle, the words lilting out like a joke, but her eyes said otherwise—wide and glinting, watching him for a reaction the way a cat watches a laser pointer.

Peter leaned back slowly in his chair, his expression unreadable, fingers folding loosely in his lap. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blush. He just looked at her, long and hard, like he was running an internal diagnostic on the entire situation—and maybe himself.

Then, in a tone far too calm for the storm he felt brewing inside, he replied, “Yeah. I will.”

She blinked. Once. Twice.

Peter’s gaze didn’t waver. “If you don’t stop whatever this is,” he said, voice quiet, collected, but firm, “and actually focus... I will punish you.”

There was a beat of silence. It stretched, thick and slow, the kind that made the air buzz.

She turned to him fully, body stilling, lips parted. Her breath caught a little, and her thighs subtly pressed together under the desk. “What?” she whispered, genuinely unsure if she’d misheard him—or if he’d just flipped some hidden switch neither of them realized he had.

But Peter just shrugged, the movement easy, fluid—almost too casual. Like this whole thing wasn’t cracking his moral compass in half.

“I’ll punish you if you keep teasing me,” he repeated, eyes never leaving hers. “But…” He leaned forward just slightly, elbows on his knees, voice dropping a fraction of an octave. “I’ll reward you if you try. If you actually pay attention. If you show me you’re listening.”

The breath that left her was almost inaudible. She couldn’t tell if she was being scolded or seduced, and honestly? She didn’t care. Her brain had turned to glitter-slush the second he rolled up his sleeves.

Which he just did. Casually. Absentmindedly. Like it meant nothing.

But it did something. God, did it do something.

Her gaze dropped—unconscious, involuntary—and locked on the sudden reveal of his forearms. Veins, tendons, subtle lines of muscle flexing under warm, freckled skin. They were stupidly unfair. Strong and lean and just—masculine in a way she hadn’t been prepared for. She stared at them the way she stared at designer heels: like they were expensive, dangerous, and possibly worth ruining her life over.

“Eyes up here, princess,” Peter murmured, dragging her attention back with that impossible, slow confidence he had no right to possess.

Her face flushed—just slightly—and she cleared her throat, trying to play it off with a smirk. “Well. Someone’s feeling bold all of a sudden.”

“You started it,” he said simply, flipping open the textbook again with one hand, the other draped lazily over the back of his chair. “You flirted. You teased. You said I was hot.”

“You are hot,” she said automatically, almost annoyed by how true it felt in the moment.

“And now you’re distracted,” he said, eyes flicking down to her lips for the barest second before meeting her gaze again. “Which is fine. If you want to be bad, be bad. Just don’t expect to pass the quiz at the end of this.”

Her brows shot up. “There’s a quiz?”

“There is now,” Peter said, utterly unfazed. “Five questions. Get them right? You get a reward. Get them wrong…”

He let the sentence hang, trailing off with just enough weight to make her swallow.

“What kind of reward?” she asked softly, sitting up straighter, trying to appear composed even as her pulse quickened.

Peter gave a small, knowing smile—more to himself than to her—and tapped the edge of her glitter pen with his own. “Study and find out.”

She hesitated for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip in a way that was definitely not helping either of their situations. But eventually, with something dangerously close to sincerity in her eyes, she gave him a tiny nod.

“Okay,” she whispered, voice breathy, softer than before. “I’ll listen.”

Peter glanced at her, mildly surprised by the shift in her tone—but he didn’t question it. He just gave a satisfied hum, nodding once like a teacher approving a particularly well-behaved student.

“Good girl,” he said absentmindedly, flipping to the next page in the textbook. “Now we’re talking.”

The words hit her like a slap and a kiss all at once. Simple. Offhand. Barely emphasized. But God. Her thighs clenched under the desk like it was reflex. Her breath hitched—just slightly—but Peter had already turned away, unaware of the small detonation he’d just caused in her lower stomach.

She blinked hard, trying to push air back into her lungs, her posture suddenly straighter, hands clenched in her lap. If he noticed the way she subtly crossed her legs tighter beneath the desk, he didn’t say anything. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t gloat.

Which somehow made it worse.

Because he was dead serious now. Back to chemistry. Back to explaining covalent bonds and energy levels like he hadn’t just casually dismantled her brain with two fucking words.

She swallowed and nodded along, trying to process anything that wasn’t the warm ache pooling deep in her core. His voice washed over her—low, steady, undeniably attractive now that she was actually paying attention. Which, unfortunately, she was. Too much.

She stared down at her notes, willing herself to focus, to be the so-called good girl he’d just praised. She wrote Magnesium = supportive baddie in the margin, then underlined it three times just to pretend like her hand wasn’t shaking a little.

Peter kept talking, guiding her through atomic structure, gesturing casually with a pencil in hand—occasionally using it to point at diagrams, or to tap her paper gently when she looked confused. And every time it made her jump just a little. Not because she didn’t understand—okay, sometimes she didn’t—but because now everything he did felt weighted, electric, impossible to ignore.

When he leaned over her shoulder to correct something in her notes, she stopped breathing. His cologne—clean and faintly cedar—wrapped around her like a noose.

“You see where you went wrong?” he murmured beside her ear, voice lower now that they were closer.

She nodded dumbly, though she couldn’t remember a single thing he’d said in the last two minutes. Her eyes were stuck on the way his fingers looked wrapped around her pen, steady and precise. She wanted to say something flirty—something biting, something to bring the control back into her hands—but all her usual weapons had short-circuited.

She was, for once, actually trying.

Trying to listen.

Trying to learn.

Trying not to melt every time he so much as glanced at her.

But then, just when she thought she might finally be settling into something resembling focus, he leaned back, tossed his pencil on the table with a soft thud, and said, “Alright. Pop quiz. Five questions.”

Her head snapped up. “Wait—seriously?”

Peter gave a small, wicked smirk. “I warned you.”

“This is so unfair,” she huffed, arms folded tightly beneath her chest, gaze narrowing in what she probably thought was intimidation but really just looked like a pout he was trying very hard to ignore.

Peter barely looked up from his notebook. “Life’s unfair,” he replied coolly, flipping the page with a maddening sort of composure. The kind that made her want to scream—or maybe crawl onto his lap and see how long that composure would last.

“Now,” he continued, pen poised, glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose, “question one.”

She groaned like he’d asked her to recite the periodic table backwards in Latin. “You’re enjoying this.”

He tilted his head, mouth twitching at the corners—not quite a smile, but a glimmer of something unholy. “A little,” he admitted. “But I warned you. Actions have consequences, princess.”

She muttered something unrepeatable under her breath, but sat up straighter, chin lifted in quiet defiance. Her arms stayed crossed—subtly pushing her chest up, not that she was doing it on purpose or anything. Not like she noticed the quick flicker of his gaze or the slight pause before he looked away.

“Alright,” he said, tapping the end of his pencil against the desk with slow, deliberate rhythm—like a countdown. “First question. What’s the difference between a covalent bond and an ionic bond?”

She squinted. “Wait, is this multiple choice?”

“Nope.”

“Can I phone a friend?”

He raised a brow, deadpan.

She sighed dramatically. “Ugh, fine. Covalent is, like… sharing? Electrons?”

He nodded slowly. “Go on.”

“And ionic is… a full transfer? Like one atom gives the electron away?” Her brow furrowed. “Like a rich dad paying off child support.”

Peter blinked at her. Then—despite himself—laughed. Soft and low and entirely involuntary. “Sure,” he said, biting back the rest of his smile. “Correct.”

She lit up. “See? Told you. I’m not dumb, I just need sexy incentives.”

He ignored that. Barely. “One point. Don’t get cocky.”

“Too late.”

“Question two,” he said, and this time his tone turned a shade darker—cool, clinical. “What’s the atomic number of magnesium?”

Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding. I barely know its name.”

He gave a patient shake of his head. “No cheating,” he warned, nudging her notebook shut with the eraser of his pencil as her eyes darted toward it.

That firm tone again. It went straight to her spine—and lower.

She narrowed her eyes, fingers tapping against the desk. “Uhh… twelve?”

Peter paused. Then nodded. “Correct again.”

She grinned, smug. “Two for two. I want gold stars.”

“You want a reward,” he corrected smoothly, sitting back just enough for the light to catch on his glasses. “You’re halfway there.”

Her smile faltered for a second—just a second—because his voice had changed again. Gone softer. Darker. Like a warning wrapped in silk. “I don’t choke,” she said quietly, almost to herself.

He smirked. “We’ll see.”

She blinked.

“Question three,” he continued before she could recover. “Define ionization energy.”

She blinked again. “That’s the hot one, right?”

Peter let out a sigh that sounded a lot like a laugh. “That’s not an answer.”

“No, wait! I know this one—it’s the energy it takes to… remove an electron from an atom?”

His brows lifted. “You’re getting dangerously close to being my favorite student.”

She preened. “Don’t stop now, professor. I’m learning so much.”

“Then let’s test that,” he said smoothly, flipping another page with that same deliberate slowness that made her stomach tighten. “Question four: which element has the higher electronegativity—fluorine or oxygen?”

Her eyes narrowed. “That sounds like a trick question.”

“It’s not.”

“…Fluorine is the toxic one, right? Like, yellow gas of death or something?”

He gave a noncommittal hum.

She squinted. “Okay. I’m gonna say oxygen. Final answer.”

Peter didn’t flinch. Just clicked his pen and marked a quiet ‘X’ beside her name.

Her jaw dropped. “Wait, it was a trick question!”

“Nope,” he said, too innocently. “It was just science. You were so close.”

She groaned, head hitting the desk with a thunk. “This is psychological warfare. You know I need pictures and glitter pens. My brain’s not wired for raw data.”

Peter chuckled under his breath, but the gleam in his eye said he was enjoying this more than he’d ever admit. “Don’t worry,” he said. “There’s still one question left. One more shot at redemption.”

She lifted her head slowly, leaning her weight onto her elbows, cleavage framed perfectly between her arms. “And if I fail?” she asked, voice pitched low.

He didn’t blink.

“Then you’ll learn what punishment really means.”

Her breath caught. A quiet flutter in her chest. “Kinky.”

“Consequential,” Peter corrected, but the look in his eyes betrayed him. His voice had dipped into something deeper. Something that made her spine straighten and her legs cross instinctively beneath the desk.

“Final question.”

She sat up, trying her hardest to look serious—and not like she was seconds from combusting. “Hit me.”

He tilted his head slightly, and asked, voice velvet-smooth, “What’s the electron configuration of sodium?”

She blinked.

“Okay—what the fuck did you just say to me?”

Peter’s lips twitched. “You’ve seen this in your notes.”

“Which you closed,” she muttered.

“Come on,” he coaxed. “Think back. Shells, sublevels—remember?”

She closed her eyes, trying to conjure some memory of that godforsaken diagram. “Okay… 1s2, 2s2… um… 2p6… 3s1?”

Silence.

Peter tapped his pen once. Then slowly set it down.

“That’s correct.”

She blinked. “Wait—seriously?”

He nodded once. “You passed. Barely.”

Her breath rushed out in a relieved laugh, her eyes lighting up. “Oh my god. I passed chemistry.”

Peter’s brow arched. “You passed my quiz. You still missed one.”

She stilled.

“…Which means you still get the punishment.”

Her smile faltered just slightly. “Right. That.”

“But,” he added, leaning forward, forearms resting on his thighs as his gaze locked with hers, “you also get your reward.”

Her lips parted slightly. “Okay… so… what’s the reward?”

Peter didn’t blink. Didn’t smirk. Just said, calm and devastatingly clear:
“You get to sit in my lap.”

She stared.

“I—what?”

“You heard me,” he said, voice soft and measured. “Come here.”

Her heart was hammering now, pulse fluttering high in her throat. “And the punishment?”

Peter smiled—small, sharp, and entirely dangerous.

“You’ll find out if you move.”

She hesitated for a second—just a second—then slid from her chair and stepped between his legs, her heart jackhammering against her ribs. Peter didn’t say a word. Just watched her. Calm. Expectant. The silence thick between them.

Then, slowly, she lowered herself into his lap.

At first, she tried to keep a respectable distance—her weight barely resting on his thighs, posture stiff and uncertain. Her skirt rode up as she settled, the hem skimming far too high for decency, but she still kept her hands clenched in her lap like that would make any of this feel normal.

It didn’t.

Peter’s hands found her hips.

Without a word, he pulled her back—firm, steady, inescapable—until her spine was flush against his chest and she was properly seated. Full weight. Right over the growing bulge in his jeans.

The breath left her lungs in a soft, involuntary gasp.

And God, she could feel him. Hard. Thick. Pressed perfectly between her legs, separated only by the flimsiest excuse for lace and the whisper of her skirt. The contact sent a lightning bolt of heat straight through her, and her thighs instinctively tried to squeeze together—but it was him there, and the pressure just made it worse.

Peter leaned forward slightly, his mouth close to her ear, voice low and dangerously gentle. “You move,” he murmured, “I punish you.”

She nodded shakily, barely able to breathe. “Y-yeah.”

But Peter wasn’t finished.

His right hand stayed firm on her hip, thumb stroking lazily against the curve of her waist like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. His other hand? Calmly reached across the desk to pick up his pen again. Like this wasn’t a big deal. Like she wasn’t already soaked through and losing her mind just from sitting still.

She swallowed thickly, eyes fixed on the way the pen moved in his fingers. “Are we… Are we still doing chemistry?”

He smirked against her ear. “Of course.”

Then, like nothing was out of the ordinary, Peter opened his notebook again and started writing.

Meanwhile, she sat there—frozen, breath shallow, thighs trembling as every tiny shift of his legs beneath hers sent another pulse of heat through her. His cock was so there—right up against her, thick and hot even through the layers—and she knew he could feel everything. The slick heat between her legs, the tiny quiver of her muscles, the way her hips threatened to roll with even the smallest breath.

But she didn’t dare move. Not even an inch.

“Question,” he said after a beat, casually, like he wasn’t slowly unraveling her sanity with nothing but proximity. “How many valence electrons does nitrogen have?”

She stared blankly at his notebook. Her brain was soup. Her mouth moved but no words came out.

Peter glanced at her over his glasses, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Need a hint?”

Her breath hitched. “Y-Yes.”

His lips brushed her ear. “Don’t move,” he said again—soft but lethal. Then he nudged his hips upward.

Just once.

A gentle grind. A warning. A promise.

She bit down hard on her lip, stifling the gasp that tried to break free.

“Nitrogen,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin, “has five.”

And she couldn’t tell if she was learning or being conditioned.

“Good girl,” he added absently, going back to his notes, completely ignoring the way she squirmed at the praise—except, of course, for the way his grip tightened just slightly on her hip, holding her still. Possessive. Controlling. Teasing.

She didn’t know how long they stayed like that—him casually quizzing her, her trembling on the edge of obedience and full-blown ruin—but she knew this: she wasn’t passing chemistry.

She was being rewired by it.

She heard his voice. Could feel it—low and smooth, rumbling through his chest and curling around her like velvet. He was still talking, flipping pages in the notebook, gesturing lazily to some diagram as if this were still about atoms and bonds.

But none of it registered. Not a word.

All she could focus on was the pressure between her legs and the way his thigh sat perfectly between them—solid, unmoving, a delicious point of friction. Without even realizing it, she started moving against him. Slow. Subtle. Barely-there rolls of her hips, grinding down gently, dragging her soaked panties along the rigid line of muscle beneath his jeans.

Peter kept talking.

For a while, he let her have her little secret.

But she should’ve known better than to think he wouldn’t notice.

He stopped mid-sentence, eyes narrowing behind the frames of his glasses. He didn’t say anything right away—just leaned back in his chair, arms folding slowly across his chest as he stared at her with unreadable calm.

“You’re not even listening, are you?”

She froze. Her breath hitched, her lips parted—but she had no excuse. Nothing to offer. Just need. Pure, aching, unbearable need.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I need you, Pete.”

For a split second, something flickered in his eyes. Something dark and heated. But then it was gone, replaced with quiet restraint and that maddening composure she was starting to loathe.

“No,” he said simply.

She blinked. “What?”

“You don’t get me,” he said, his voice cool and steady. “Not yet.”

He shifted, nudging his thigh up just enough to make her gasp softly, her thighs tightening reflexively around it.

“Use my thigh,” he murmured. “If you’re that desperate. Get yourself off.”

She stared at him, flushed and wild-eyed, shame and arousal bleeding together in equal measure. But she nodded. Of course she did. She’d take anything from him—anything he’d give her.

With shaky hands, she braced herself on his shoulders and began to move. This time with intention. No more subtle grinding—this was unabashed, slow friction, the lace of her panties dragging over the rough denim, her breath catching with every roll of her hips.

Peter watched her the whole time.

Unblinking. Silent. His eyes traced every stutter in her movement, every flicker of desperation that passed across her face.

“You’re such a mess,” he said quietly, more to himself than to her. “Look at you. So greedy.”

She whimpered, burying her face in his neck, her hips rocking harder now. “Please, Peter. Please, I can’t—”

Her hand reached between them, fumbling with the front of his jeans. Desperate. Mindless.

But he caught her wrist before she could even touch him.

“No,” he said again, firmer this time. “That’s not yours yet.”

He guided her hand away, placing it back on his shoulder as she whimpered in frustration, eyes glassy with need.

“Get yourself off,” he said again, voice dark and low. “Earn it.”

She nodded frantically, biting down on her bottom lip to keep quiet as she chased the friction, riding his thigh with increasing urgency. Her body trembled with it—overstimulated and under-touched, burning from the inside out.

And Peter just watched.

Like she was a lesson in control.

Like her pleasure was a science experiment he already knew the outcome of.

It happened so fast she barely remembered breathing through it.

One second she was grinding, her rhythm frantic and erratic, and the next—she broke. Her hips jerked, a gasp leaving her lips like it was punched out of her, her thighs trembling violently as pleasure surged through her. Nails dug into Peter’s shoulders for purchase as she came, messy and silent save for the high-pitched, shaky whimper that slipped out just before her body slumped back against him.

Her breath came in quick, uneven bursts, body still twitching in aftershocks. But Peter’s voice cut through it—low, measured, merciless.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

Her lashes fluttered. She blinked down, barely able to keep her head up. “Peter—”

He just looked at her, calm as ever, like he hadn’t just let her make a soaked, squirming mess of herself all over his leg. “I said,” he murmured, reaching down to tug her hips forward, forcing her to grind down again on his soaked thigh, “I didn’t say you could stop.”

She let out a broken sound—half sob, half moan—her clit already painfully sensitive, each new rub of lace and denim making her jolt. “I—I can’t—”

“You can,” he said, dragging her hips in rough, firm circles, his grip unforgiving. “And you will. Since you clearly don’t know how to listen unless I fuck obedience into you.”

Her mouth fell open, head tipping back as another wave of overstimulation rolled over her. “Wait, wait—please—Peter, it’s too—”

“No.” His voice sharpened, his patience finally fraying. “You just can’t follow instructions, huh?”

Then, in one fluid motion, he stood—taking her off his lap, only to bend her forward over the desk, palms flat against the cold wood, her skirt pushed up to bare her trembling thighs and soaked panties.

Peter stood behind her, undoing his belt with a slow clink of metal, his composure barely holding. “I came here to tutor you,” he muttered, more to himself than her. “Not to fuck the last five brain cells you have left out of that pretty little head.”

She whimpered under him, fingers curling against the edge of the desk, already pliant and arching back toward him despite her sensitivity.

Peter leaned over her, voice brushing hot against the shell of her ear as he dragged her panties down slowly, letting the wet fabric fall just to mid-thigh.

“You want to act like a brat?” he murmured. “Then I’ll fuck you like one.”

And with one devastating thrust, he was inside her—fully, deeply, to the hilt.

The breath was knocked out of her lungs. Her cry came out hoarse, wrecked, her knees nearly giving out beneath her. If it wasn’t for Peter’s grip on her hips, firm and possessive, she might’ve collapsed right there against the desk.

“You wanted to be a brat, right?” he growled, each word punctuated by a hard snap of his hips. “So take it.”

His pace was merciless. Sharp, relentless, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the room like some obscene rhythm. Each thrust punched into her so deep she could barely keep her head up, the force of it dragging her forward against the desk with every stroke. Her legs trembled, her mouth hanging open in a silent moan as he hit that spot—thatspot—again and again, until the edges of her vision blurred and her body forgot how to breathe.

Peter leaned over her, one hand pressing down between her shoulder blades, forcing her to arch for him. And that’s when he saw it.

A thin line of drool slipping from the corner of her mouth, dripping shamelessly onto her open notebook—right across the half-scribbled answers to questions she barely remembered him asking.

“Look at you,” he said with a low chuckle, eyes narrowing. “You’re fucking drooling all over the books.”

Without missing a beat, he reached forward and shoved them out of the way, clearing space on the desk while still pounding into her like he had no plans of stopping anytime soon.

“So messy,” he murmured, voice thick with mock-disapproval and something darker. His hand curled around the back of her neck, guiding her head to the side so he could see the dazed, fucked-out expression on her face. “So cock-hungry, huh baby?”

She let out a high, broken whimper, unable to form words.

Her body had gone limp under him—pliant, trembling, ruined in the most beautiful way—and Peter couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at his lips. “All that mouth earlier, and now look at you. Can’t even speak. Can’t even think.”

He thrust into her harder, dragging another gasping moan from her throat.

“I could teach you every element on the periodic table,” he whispered against her ear, “and you still wouldn’t remember a thing except how it feels when I’m buried inside you.”

Her fingernails scraped at the desk’s edge, her whole body shaking as she tried to hold on—but it was too much. He was too much.

“Poor thing,” he murmured, slowing his pace just enough to make her whine. “You gonna cum again for me, baby? Right here? All bent over your chemistry homework?”

She nodded desperately, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

“Then be a good girl,” he said, voice tightening, “and take what I give you.”

She barely managed to nod—her brain had short-circuited, thoughts smeared like the notes beneath her. And still, Peter didn’t stop.

He gripped her hips harder, bruising now, using her body like she was nothing but a toy made to take him. His thrusts picked up again, savage, the desk creaking beneath their weight. She couldn’t breathe right. Couldn’t think. Could only moan as every nerve in her body screamed at the overwhelming heat building and building, threatening to snap again.

Then she felt it—Peter leaning over her, chest flush against her back, his breath hot against her ear. His hand left her waist and moved up, fingers curling loosely around her throat.

“I said take it,” he growled, voice rough with restraint. “You don’t get to tap out yet.”

His fingers tightened—not enough to hurt, but just enough to make her mind spin, to make everything sharper and louder. Her hips jerked back against him, helpless and needy.

“Peter—fuck—I can’t—” she gasped, voice breaking apart.

“Yes, you fucking can,” he snapped, thrusting up into her so deep her vision went white. “You wanted to tease me? Act like a brat? Now you’re gonna cum until your legs give out.”

She cried out again, that pressure building viciously inside her until it shattered—her second orgasm crashing down hard, ripping through her with a sob. But even then, Peter didn’t slow. He didn’t let her.

She squirmed under him, too sensitive, whimpering as her body tried to twist away. But he caught her by the throat again, tilting her head back, breath hot against her cheek.

“I didn’t say you could stop,” he hissed, the filthy edge in his tone almost feral now. “You’ll cum again. I’ll drag it out of you if I have to.”

Her whines dissolved into moans as he fucked her through it, relentless. Her skin was flushed, slick with sweat, mascara smudged beneath glassy eyes. Her mind gone, tears streaking down her cheeks. And then—

Peter spat.

Right down onto her tongue.

She hadn’t even asked. But her mouth had been hanging open, breathless and ruined, and he just leaned over and let it fall—a slow, warm string that made her whole body jolt.

She moaned like it was the best thing he’d ever done to her.

“Fucking filthy,” he growled, voice wrecked now, jaw clenched tight as he watched her swallow it without hesitation. “God, look at you. Dripping, shaking, and still begging for more.”

One hand slid down to rub her clit, merciless in its rhythm, as he kept fucking into her like he wanted to mold her to the shape of his cock.

“Pete—Peter, I—too much—can’t—” she sobbed, her words blurring into wet, incoherent sounds.

But he just leaned closer, lips at her ear. “Then cum again.”

And she did.

Her body seized, thighs trembling violently as her orgasm ripped through her, messy and primal and raw. Her screams were muffled against the desk, fingernails scratching helplessly at the surface as she came hard—clenching around him, soaking them both.

Peter didn’t stop until her legs fully gave out, collapsing under her with a broken moan. Even then, he held her up, letting her breathe, his grip firm on her throat and her hips like she was the only thing anchoring him now.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice low and dangerously close to unraveling. “You’re such a good little mess for me.”

Peter groaned, the sound guttural—feral—as he felt her clamp down around him again, her pussy spasming with aftershocks. She was limp beneath him, trembling and soaked, barely able to hold herself up on her elbows. And he still wasn’t done.

He kept fucking into her, slower now but so deep it felt like he was rearranging her. Dragging it out. Grinding his hips forward with purpose—owning her.

“You’re still gripping me,” he breathed, one hand sliding from her hip to her belly, spreading over the soft skin there. “Fucking hell—do you feel that?”

He pressed down. Right over the swell of her lower abdomen where his cock kept driving into her, so deep inside it felt like he was punching into her core. She gasped, back arching, thighs twitching.

“R-right there,” she choked, voice wrecked. “I can feel you, oh my god—”

Peter’s eyes darkened, his jaw flexing as he felt the outline of himself through her stomach. “Yeah, you can. That’s me, sweetheart. That’s how fucking deep I am.”

Her moan was nothing more than a high, strangled cry as her hips rocked weakly back into him. She was long past gone, completely fucked out—and he fucking loved it. Loved the way she took it. Loved how ruined she looked—mascara-streaked, drool on her chin, eyes glossy and lost.

“You wanted to be filled, didn’t you?” he rasped, voice sharp and trembling with restraint. “Wanted me to fuck you dumb, huh?”

She nodded frantically, biting her lip to keep from sobbing again.

“Say it,” he growled, his thrusts picking up just enough to make her fall forward again, her cheek pressed to the desk.

“I—I wanted it, Peter,” she whimpered. “Wanted you to finish inside—please, I need it.”

That broke him.

His rhythm turned punishing again—fast, deep, brutal, the slap of skin echoing in the room as he chased it now, chest pressed flush to her back, his hand still firm on her belly like he was making sure she’d feel every last drop.

“You’re gonna take it,” he snarled against her ear, breath hot. “Take every fucking drop like the good little cumdump you are.”

And then—he groaned. Loud, raw, desperate. Hips stuttering as he buried himself one last time, grinding as deep as he could go. He spilled inside her with a low, broken moan, cock twitching as his cum filled her, warm and thick and so much it dripped back out before he’d even pulled away.

Peter stayed like that for a moment, cock still buried in her, both of them panting, their bodies trembling against each other.

He gave her stomach one last possessive press, almost reverent now. “Fuck,” he whispered, “look what you do to me.”

She just whimpered, so far gone she could barely respond, thighs sticky, cunt fluttering weakly around him still.

“You feel that?” he murmured, pressing in a little more, letting her feel the heat of him deep inside. “That’s mine. You get it now, don’t you, baby?”

And from the ruined way she moaned, he knew she did.

A week after that tutoring session—the one that started with flashcards and ended with her drooling on his chem notes—Peter was half-asleep, sprawled out on his bed, still in his suit pants from patrol. His hoodie was tossed somewhere on the floor, hair a sweaty, tousled mess. His limbs were heavy, mind drifting in and out of consciousness when his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

He groaned, cracking one eye open. Probably Ned sending him another blurry screenshot of a TikTok he didn't understand or MJ forwarding some dry meme with a caption like “ur humor.” He dragged his arm over, fumbling until his fingers curled around his phone. The screen lit up.

Not Ned.
Not MJ.

Y/N.

His brain clicked on like a light switch.

He sat up slightly, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he opened the message. It was a picture. Her chemistry test. And there it was—an A+ circled at the top in red pen, like a glowing beacon of success. Like she’d actually listened to him.

Beneath it, her message:

I passed my test, can I get my reward :)🩷

Peter let out a short laugh, low and warm, as he ran a hand down his face. His cheeks flushed, and not from exertion this time.

Of course she passed. She might’ve giggled through half the session and made zero eye contact during anything remotely science-related, but when it counted, she’d nailed it.

God, she was something else.

[makixroll]

NOONA, YEPPEO — euijoo ۫ ꣑ৎ

pairing . . . euijoo x fem!reader

contents . . . reader is 2 years older than euijoo , fluff , secret relationship , reader lives in korea , euijoo calls her noona

You were tomorrow x together's makeup artist for a whole year already, and hybe labels were amused with your skills. Not only were you a permanent makeup artist of txt, but you also do enhypen, seventeen, and other kpop idols' makeups when you have the time. because of that, hybe decided to bring you to japan— now to be the new and permanent makeup artist of &team.

At first, you were reluctant. You didn't want to leave your country, and you most definitely don't want to learn another language just for a job. But hybe insisted, even increasing your paycheck and also offering to cover your house expenses in japan, which, you couldn't really resist but give in.

So, here you are now, two years in japan with your broken japanese barely letting you survive the foreign country. Two years with the chaotic japanese boygroup &team, which you got used to almost immediately because of the former group you managed (txt), and now going one year with your beloved secret boyfriend, the leader of &team, sweet euijoo.

Euijoo stared as you retouched his makeup, adding additional shimmers around his eyes, putting gloss over his lips. The man was itching to put his hands around your waist. But he couldn't. No one knew the relationship he has with you, not even his members, not even Nicholas— who he trusts with his life.

But the members had a hunch, probably because their leader has this soft spot with you that he never shows to others. How he'd get somewhat protective over you whenever they tried to tease you, or when Yuma went over and tried to hug you after congratulating them, only to end up hugging Euijoo instead, as he immediately went in the way.

They didn't tell Euijoo that they already knew about it, they never teased about it either— which was really, really surprising. Instead, they bask in the lovely aura you two shared whenever you two were together.

So when you finished doing your boyfriend's makeup, euijoo's members turned a blind eye as they saw their leader sneak you inside the changing room, disguising it as "needing your help" since his clothes needs a "stitching". When their managers asked where Euijoo was, they all collectively shrugged their shoulders and did their own business.

Euijoo slowly, and quietly locked the door behind him, not wasting any time as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug as he buried his head on the side of your neck, sniffing the perfume he was too familiar of.

"Juju, your makeup will smudge. I worked hard on that, y'know." You joked, speaking in the language you both grew up with. You heard him groan as he placed his warm hands inside your shirt, his palm coming in contact with your bare waist.

"I know, noona. You can just fix it later." Euijoo mumbled on your neck, giving you soft kisses.

"Juju, baby, gotta let go now. It's almost time." You cooed, caressing your sweet boyfriend's back. You could hear the faint noises from outside, their manager probably running in circles, panicking as he tries to find Euijoo.

"A few more minutes, noona~" he whined, now looking at you as he stands tall, feeling small in his gaze. Euijoo stared at your face lovingly, then his gaze going down to your lips.

"You're so pretty, noona." He whispered softly, tucking the strands of your hair behind your ear.

"one kiss before I go?" Euijoo asked, looking at you with doe eyes as he wet his lips. You let out a soft sigh as you playfully rolled your eyes at him.

"Just one." You stated, and he nodded.

"Just one." Euijoo whispered, before leaning down and capturing your lips into a kiss. He couldn't resist himself as he bit your bottom lip softly, you parted your lips slightly due to his actions. His grip on your waist tightened.

"EJ, time to go." Someone, which you assumed by the voice is one of his members, knocked on the door of the changing room, which made you pull away from the kiss, an annoyed expression went past Euijoo's face.

"Yes!" He shouted enough for his member to hear. You gave him a playful glare as you softly pushed his chest away from you.

"Liar, that's more than one kiss."

[avifaunaa]

these strange noises [ voices ] followed me here [ s.s. + n.s. ] [ pt. 1 ]

Authors Note: so like, this was intended as a Shauna fic ONLY. Nat somehow found her way in here on her own, without my consent. Oops.

Masterlist

PART TWO

Pairing: Shauna Shipman x fem!reader x Natalie Scatorccio

Summary: You didn’t like how strained things were with the team lately. Shauna didn’t like how easily you tried to make friends. Natalie? Natalie was just there by accident. But she’ll make sure Shauna’s message comes across clear.

Content Warnings: Dark-ISH, r has a crush on Nat, animal injury, animal death, soft!dark!Natalie, mean!dark!shauna, degradation and praise, grinding, breathplay, double penetration in two holes, which means anal, and vaginal, spit, spit as lube, scratching, fingering, controlling behavior, non/dubcon [ r for all lmao ], NO AFTERCARE | mention of past injuries and illness, as R hurts herself by accident and also works as a sort of medic for the team IM SO SORRY THIS GOT FILTHY LMFAO

Word Count: ~5.7k

Natalie was huddled with her little Council again. Lottie, Tai, Van . . . Whoever the team decided was the best suited at leading everyone out of this shithole into somewhat of a survivable society as you currently knew it.

You had to admit the ducks were cute — until Shauna came for them for dinner time. You steered clear from her around those times, when the look came to cover her features and she had the dark aura surrounding her. “Dark aura” was coined by Mari, and you made sure to never vocally mention it around Shauna.

You had managed to stay out of everyone’s way after you had fallen and broken your arm trying to be useful after the cabin burnt to splinters.

You had managed to become somewhat of a healer after resetting your own bones, creating a sling for your own arm, and packing the sling with leftover snow until the swelling went down.

Yay to three years of medical school.

It was now fully healed, but it never truly managed to recover right. There was an ache when you bent it a certain way and reaching up over your head was painful beyond measure. Still, the bone healed and you didn’t get a blood infection: win-win.

When Natalie had cropped up with some cuts from hunting expeditions, you’d offered to treat them with a prototype paste you had been testing out on your own minor scratches. She had been suspicious, but she hadn’t wanted to turn you down. So she agreed.

It worked somewhat — you had found some stinging nettle and fireweed in different areas of the surrounding territory that you had to make use of on your arm by ingesting.

You had her eat some of the paste and apply some to the cuts. Either way — it had worked to speed the healing process and ease her pain.

And so began your life as the team’s new medic. It hadn’t been intentional, but you were the only one currently still majoring in medicine and going through the process of trying to get into a residency.

You hadn’t told the team — especially Shauna — that you had planned to quit after this season.

You hadn’t told the team — especially Natalie — that you were moving to Vancouver for it.

Neither of them would’ve taken kindly to the news for different reasons, and you hoped that you died in these woods so you wouldn’t have to.

Mari was in your hut now, claiming she had a sore throat after one of the games they’d played. Shauna had punched her in the jugular, allegedly. It didn’t surprise you, not really. Shauna and Mari had been not so subtly resting their teeth at one another’s throats for weeks, and it was starting to drag on everyone.

“Ow,” Mari deadpanned as you pressed around the skin tenderly where you saw the outline of Shauna’s knuckles beginning to form.

“You’re fine. She probably didn’t do any real damage — just take it easy on any activity that requires you to yell at each other and maybe stay away from these games for a while,” you ordered, pulling your hand away.

She gave a sniff, nose wrinkled and lip curling up at the corner. You did your very best not to roll your eyes as she left without so much as a thank you. But she did squeeze your wrist, and you supposed that was thank you enough for Mari.

You went about your day stripping herbs and taking some berries from the food storages, making your pastes and wraps and using old clothes to make more slings in case another limb broke.

You heard shuffling outside of your hut and turned to find Shauna entering, a shadowy look on her face.

“Oh, hey.” You set down the makeshift bowl and smile warmly at Shauna despite the uneasiness that arose with her appearance. You avoided her at all costs these days — her and the rest of the makeshift Council. All of it terrified you and you didn’t want their eyes on you.

“Hey.” Short and curt, dark eyes glittering as they shifted around the hut at the hanging herbs and shells from the beach of the lake. “You’ve made a little spot for yourself here.”

“Hasn’t everyone?” you agreed carefully, shrugging a little bit as you went back to mashing berries and leaves together. This was a different paste you were experimenting with — one that may help coughs before next winter came to strike. “We have to sort of make do with what we’ve got right?”

“Yeah,” she murmured. You could feel her analyzing you in the way Shauna Shipman analyzed all things: like they were weak, or a target.

Shauna Shipman never sought to find enemies in the air or behind her — why would she? This is her world you’re in, her game you play most of the time especially because food is what she is in charge of.

Shauna Shipman is an apex predator who fears nothing and no one — and you are here only because she allows it, and perhaps she is here to remind you of that simple fact.

“Is everything okay?” you asked cautiously, dipping a finger into the sticky mixture you created and kneading at it anxiously. You refused to turn around and look at her and the way she seemed to track every movement you made.

“Why was Mari in here earlier?”

The inquiry shouldn’t have caught you off guard — it shouldn’t but it did. You would have put it off as something as simple as her wanting to check on a likely injured teammate but something inside of you told you that this was not as simple as that.

“She was receiving some medical attention from the strangulation she received. During the game.” You roped in any accusatory lilt that would’ve snuck in if you hadn’t been careful. “She’s fine.”

“I don’t really care,” Shauna replied casually. You turned around with the bowl and saw her fingering some of the hanging herbs, looking over them with disinterest.

“Then why’d you ask?”

Shauna stilled just a second before slowly moving her gaze back over to you. She hasn’t been all to normal since Jackie died — a fact you kept your mouth firmly shut over even if Gen and Melissa murmured about it from time to time.

There was a way her dark eyes flickered along your face and her lip curled upward like she had a reason to be disgusted with you that made you want to turn tail and run.

But alas — you were trapped in this goddamned hut with her now.

“I asked,” Shauna said lowly, voice dropping a couple of octaves, “because I saw her coming in here crying like a little bitch. I wanted to just remind everyone that this game is optional and she has a choice to play.”

Your tongue curled into the back of your mouth to kill all the things you wanted to snap back at her — all of them.

Oh, and she must have known it. Must have seen it in the way your face screwed and twisted up as you jerked your chin back down to your medicine making.

“If we have a choice, why are you acting like you’re accusing me of breaking the law?” you asked her slowly, in as much of a respectful tone as you could produce.

Shauna tilted her head just so. “Because the team considers it a bonding exercise; and it keeps us fit, quick on our feet, strong. Morale and shit.”

You wiped the paste onto the side of the bowl and set the object down onto a built in shelf of your hut, rubbing the excess onto your pants anxiously. You did not answer her, and she seemed inclined to talk to you more either way.

“Although,” Shauna continued, starting to creep closer to you with ease of a practiced creature of skill, “you wouldn’t really know one way or another. You exempt yourself everytime. I keep hoping to see you, you know?”

You play off your nerves with a scoff, rolling your eyes and trying to appease with a side smirk. “Please. Who the hell would help patch you assholes up after? Misty? She can’t hardly tell poison ivy from nettle. You’d all be dead in weeks.”

You hoped it did the trick — though you hated to do it at all. Misty was sort of becoming a friend to you in the last month, having offered her help when she wasn’t sniffing around Nat and Lottie so reverently. She would stop by so often and lend a hand with some work.

But then again, she was still Misty and she always had to be thrown under the bus in these situations.

Laughter drifted into your ears after a split second and soon the tension in your shoulders followed. “You may be right,” the brunette agreed, looking considerably lighter with an air of content.

Thank God.

“Only on days that end in y, Shipman.”

You tried to keep up a casual conversation with Shauna for a while just to ensure that the tension she entered with had all but vanished when she left you.

However it had the opposite effect. The longer you kept her — and tried to entertain her — the more her mood seemed to dip once more. Her eyes flickering behind her to the exit, arms crossed protectively and fidgeting with her sleeve.

It slowly built up until she found a way to end the conversation altogether, commenting that she had to go speak to Natalie about her ‘indiscretion’ regarding Mari. Whatever the hell that meant.

You were more confused by what had just transpired between the two of you than anything else.

“Kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” you corrected from your place by the camp’s center community fire. You were patching up one of the wings on Gen’s ducks as she anxiously stood to your right. “Why didn’t you clip them?” you asked Gen, scolding, “this is the fourth duck that’s been nearly carried off by a hawk.”

It was not Gen trying to get your attention at the moment -- for you were already focused on the crux of her problems: her wayward free-sighted ducks.

"Clipping them seems wrong," Gen retorted meekly, chewing on her chapped lips as she walked you work, "and what if something attacks camp and they can't get away?"

"We have a better chance at defending them together from something in camp than we do trying to get them back from a predator after they've taken flight from here," you reminded as you tenderly wrapped a waxy leaf between two sticks as a sort of splint. "Clip the wings, Gen, or we'll have more than just busted wings come winter."

"Kid," the same person behind you interrupted.

You ignored her as you pressed the flapping duck back into Gen's arms. "Keep an eye on her for three days, maybe keep her in your hut instead of with the others. I'm not a vet so I don't really know much about animals. All I know is that she needs to go easy on the wing."

A hand grasped your shoulder from behind and you stiffened. Gen glanced to who was behind you and mumbled a thanks before scampering off in the opposite direction.

You felt your body being turned by Nat as she met you with the least disguised look of irritation you've seen on her face in the last few days.

"Maybe calling me by my name would get my attention better," you greeted her dryly, plucking a loose duck feather off of your shirt and crossing your arms. "I tend to respond to it easier, too."

Nat rolled her eyes so hard that you could have almost placed a bet that she saw the inside of her own skull. "Right, of course, so sorry." She did not, in fact, sound sorry. She sounded fed up.

Which, you supposed, was fair enough.

"What do you need, Nat?" you asked, noting that her hand had drifted from your shoulder to your elbow instead.

"Do you want to go hunting with me?"

You blinked at her, struck silent immediately at her request. It was almost shy how she asked and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from pointing that out.

"You took me once and I almost got both of us killed," you tried to deviate, throwing your gaze to your feet where dirty and ragged shoes scuffed the dirt.

"Yeah," Nat murmured, fingers drifting even lower until her fingers linked with yours, "which is why I want to bring you again. Besides -- you don't leave camp much now that you've managed to grow your herb garden. We could . . . we could look for some of the stuff you're low on and can't really grow?"

"Bringing Travis with you gives you a higher chance at finding something than if I were to come," you continued to deflect, though you allowed her hand to keep you locked in her space, entertaining her requests.

"I don't want to bring Travis, I want to bring you," she pointed out. "Look at me."

You drug your eyes slowly up her body until you were finally looking her in the eye, and you found her watching you with a soft encouragement but strong nature you knew Nat to carry with her.

"Good girl," the blonde praised followed by a squeeze to your hand. "So . . .?"

"Okay . . ." you agreed, cheeks reddening under her stare. "Okay, as long as you don't blame me if we don't catch anything."

She raises your linked palms and specifically curls her pinkie finger around yours. "I promise," she agrees, nodding with a little smirk gracing her features. "Now go get what you need."

Natalie was getting very frustrated and you had a sinking feeling you were connected to those feelings. She would point out spots to avoid stepping and you'd somehow find a way to unintentionally disobey that order.

She turned to glare at you when you were both crouched low in the underbrush as your knee pressed into fallen leaves and twigs.

"Sorry," you mouthed, stiffening up and not moving an inch as she turned back and settled in again.

She peered through the scope of the rifle and brushed her thumb along the trigger, shoulders relaxing as she eyed the well-fed doe in her sights.

She was beautiful and you hated to see her go, and you would tell Natalie as much later when the doe was shot down successfully.

She had the gun thrown over her shoulder as she inspected the kill, likely looking for anything Shauna would need to cut out parasite or old injury-wise when she went to butcher it.

"She was so pretty," you commented, unable to hide the tinge of sadness that paired with the words. "I'm sorry that she had to go."

At first you thought she ignored you. She had no response and the only noise around the two of you were the songs the birds sang above you, alerting the rest of the forest of your existence.

"She died for a good reason," the blonde finally said, throwing her bag down and opening it to reveal some bloodstained rope. "Just like they all have."

You did not press her on whether she meant your fallen teammates or just the animals. You did not think you wanted to know.

"Get her back legs, will you?" Nat tossed some ropes to you and you caught them.

You crouched at the back end of the deer and started lifting her legs to tie them together and stopped when you felt the leg closest to you give way too easily. You bent it a few times and breathed out a sigh, drawing Nat's attention.

"What?" she asked, frowning in your direction.

"Nothing -- just. She had an injury, a broken leg. I'm surprised she survived long enough for it to heal," you said as you stroked a hand down the base of the thigh. The leg felt weaker than the rest of the body, less muscled. "She may not have been using it either."

"She walked with a limp," Nat mentioned with a deepening frown, finishing the knot on the front legs. "She also had no herd -- maybe she couldn't keep up with them."

"Left behind." You drew the legs together and started to tie the knot, fixing it until it was tighter than you would have usually done it.

You felt Natalie watching you as you lifted her from the rear while she went to grab the front.

"Is this about --"

"No," you said, cutting her off, "it's not."

When you had broken your arm there had been a huge debate on whether or not to cannibalize you, release you into the woods and let you find your own way, or let you stay and care for you.

Before your arm you had no special job that kept you in a particular high standing -- Misty was the team's resident doctor at the time and as far as they knew, the most knowledgeable in the medical field. You had let her make them believe that -- it was too much. Too much death, too much illness, too much injury.

You wanted to be a pediatric surgeon, not watch and try to treat your friends as they died in the wilderness.

When you had been forced to fix your own arm that harsh night, it was also forcing you to reveal your abilities and in the end it forced you into the role you attempted to avoid for months.

But you never got over it; the fact that they considered throwing you out because you may bring greater weakness to their survival and because you may prove another mouth to feed if your arm healed wrong and you couldn't chop wood again, or lift heavy objects, or do chores that required arm work.

" . . . shoulder?"

"W-what?" you asked, blinking at Nat. She stared at you.

"Can you lift it over your shoulder? Just enough for us to get it carried back to camp? I know it hurts sometimes when --"

"It's fine," you said, clenching your jaw as you bent down to grab the animal. "Let's just -- let's just get going."

Nat did not press, but the air was thick with a heaviness you could not decipher for the entire trek back.

Four nights later you got into trouble.

Dinner was being served normally tonight -- no outfits or prayers like Lottie did from time to time.

What was off, though, was the way Shauna sat a few seats down and glared in your direction as Krystal and Mari kept trying to pull you into conversation.

You were mostly tuning them out. You had a headache from the boiling summer heat that lasted all day and water was only so helpful when it had to be boiled to be safe for consumption.

Everyone was going swimming together after this, while it was cool and the moon was bright. You would go with them this time -- anything to get the stink of sweat out of your skin and the cool water to surround your pounding head.

"You're going with Krystal and I, right?" Mari asked you as you downed the rest of your bowl. "Be our swimming buddy?"

What harm could it do? ]

"Sure," you started.

"Actually," Nat said loudly, leaning across Shauna to get your attention and staring you down with a crinkled nose, "Shauna and I want to steal you for our swimming trip. We wanted to use it as an opportunity to discuss some things with you."

"Okay --"

"Like what?" Mari scoffed, the barbing remark aiming for Shauna as her eyes rested on the quiet but very present brunette.

"Council things, Mari," Nat said shortly, "and if you want to keep acting up, you can stay behind and guard camp while we bring Misty instead."

"No thanks," Misty, for once, said with a squint. She hated swimming with the team. She much preferred privacy when doing anything in regards to undressing in general.

"Then behave," Nat told Mari as though she wouldn't be punishing Misty, as well.

Mari let it go. It was a bigger fight than she appeared to want to take on at the moment and you could not blame her. Nat and Shauna butted heads nine out of ten times but when they formed an alliance, it was formidable.

Everyone finished their meals without incident after that matter was settled but it left you anything except settled. Nat and Shauna had not previously mentioned wanting to talk to you about much of anything beforehand so this was as much a surprise to you as it was to Mari.

You all walked the worn path down to the lake together as a group but Shauna and Nat gestured for you to veer off with them down a slope before reaching the beach.

You hesitated and watched as the rest of the group laughed and disappeared over the lip of the path while Nat flung an arm around your shoulder and continued guiding you down the steep slope off trail.

"Where are we going?" you asked, eyes fixed on the barely-visible pattern of Shauna's flannel as she walked ahead of both of you.

"Shauna found a nice little spot, sort of a private beach. We can see and hear the others but the swim would be too far," Nat told you. You nearly tripped over a thick tree branch in your way and Nat grasped you roughly, fingers digging into the flesh of your arm to keep you from eating shit.

"You are prone to disaster, has anybody ever told you that?" she asked with laughter.

"Oh shut up," you grumbled.

Nat only laughed harder and you tuned her out once Shauna stepped out of the tree line and opened up to a small beachside grove. It seems she had made a sort of hideout here -- a tree stump had been dragged through the sand and she had some of the plane seats across it. There were rocks and shells sat out in piles like they'd been gathered overtime and sat aside on a boulder.

"It's pretty," you mused as you kicked off your shoes before stepping into the rough sand and following after Shauna.

"I know." Dark eyes watched you, gauging your reaction to her secret and you suddenly felt a ball of nervous energy form in your stomach. "Only Nat has seen it."

"Oh." You didn't know what meaning that held -- or what it meant for her to have also agreed to shown you. "Um -- cool. Why -- why show me?"

Nat was removing her shorts near the firepit and circle of makeshift seats, soon followed by her shirt and leaving her just in her underwear. She ran past you both and splashed into the water, laughing. "God, it feels so good."

You smiled at Nat and . . . how free she appeared as she swam deeper and dipped her head back into the water.

"We brought you because we can," Shauna said, obviously. She glanced behind her, following your gaze. She did not smile but there was a softening to her eyes that you thought had long since gone extinct after Jackie's untimely death.

"Want to get in?" she asked, elbow gesturing toward the water without removing her hands from her pockets.

"Oh. Yeah, absolutely." You made your way over to the damp sand, the water washing up your ankles in greeting.

"Absolutely not," Shauna breathed behind you, grabbing you by your shirt. Her lips brushed against your neck lightly. "No swimming in clothes. You could drown, stupid."

Your body flushed as the embarrassment swept over you like a wave from the lake. "R-right, yeah."

You waited for her to back away a bit but you could still feel her breath on your neck. You stepped slightly to the side and started undressing. You went to leave your underwear on but Shauna stopped you again.

"Everything."

"Nat has her underwear on?" you pointed out, glancing out to where the blonde lay on her back, treading water.

"And I care why?" Shauna drawls. "Take them off or I'll do it."

You trembled, an uneasy stickiness starting to coat the inside of said underwear despite yourself. But you did as you were told in order to avoid having Shauna wrangle them off of you.

Your heart was racing, your blood turning cold, and the sweat turning to ice along your skin as she gazed at you patiently like a hawk.

You added them to the pile and Shauna jerked her chin.

"Took you long enough," she said. "Go join Nat. I'll be there in a moment."

You slowly dipped into the water inch by inch until it was up to your chest, bottom of your toes barely managing to stay dug into the sand the deeper you got.

Natalie looked up and grinned at you, swimming to meet you the rest of the way. She crossed the waters to you and slid her arms around your waist, pulling you close until your chests touched.

You hoped she could not feel how fast your heart ran in your ribcage, otherwise you could be held for questioning.

You were not, however, expecting a knee to come rest between your thighs when she went to tangle her legs with yours. The following squeak had her grinning like a cat with freshly stolen milk.

"Make that sound again," Nat purred as she jerked her knee upward, this time rubbing into your cunt. You gasped and fell into her.

"Nat -- Nat stop." You dug your fingers into her shoulder to push back from her despite the dizzy feeling you got from the way she circled her knee.

"Why?" the blonde wondered, reaching over to tuck a strand of damp hair behind your ear and leaning across to suck at your collarbone. "You're so pretty."

"B-but shouldn't we talk about t-this?" you whispered, startling at the screams and laughter of the girls from across the lake. They sounded so close but the likelihood of them seeing you was little.

You felt a warmth against your back and another arm wrap around your waist. A hand ran along the curve of your neck, fingers pressing none-to-gently along each muscle that popped out with her puppeting your head. Shauna looked down at you as your head angled up to meet her gaze.

"Look at you." Then she leaned down and kissed you, teeth immediately making themselves apart of the equation as they dug into your bottom lip and she held her hand close to your jugular. Not squeezing, not even putting weight, just staying there.

A jolt of pleasure rushing down your spine. A whine escaped your lips and into Shauna's as Nat continued licking and biting along the skin there, her knee slowly moving up until it rubbed directly into your clit.

This was sudden -- unexpected and like a curveball sent across the field to knock you out.

"W-wait," you pleaded when Shauna broke the kiss for air. "Wait, stop."

"No," Shauna purred, fingers dancing along your abdomen. "We're staking our claim now that fucking Mari has started sniffing around where she doesn't belong."

"W-what?"

"W-what?" Shauna mocked. This time, the hand started applying the pressure it so lacked before. "God. You're fucking dumb, sometimes. Such a big brain but no thoughts."

"Oh, she's smart. My smart, pretty, empathetic girl," Nat crooned in front of you has she drags you and Shauna deeper into her, thus forcing you more on her knee. "Grind, baby."

"No," you whined. You tried to gain some form of control in this -- tried to collect yourself and try to splash at the water, but Shauna struck. She forced you against Nat even closer, leaving no escape. Both of them were more active, more stronger than you. You had no choice.

"Yes," Shauna whined back, mocking. Teeth started pulling at your earlobe. "Mari has been digging up a shit ton of trouble for us lately. She refuses to follow the rules, she's pitting everyone against each other, and what's worse: she's starting to use you to get to us."

What in the actual good fuck was she rambling about? A shudder rippled through you as Nat pulled you in for the kiss this time, allowing Shauna to roam and explore your body as she would. \

You fought it with best intentions, but the climax was building and you had no other option but to give into it, Shauna's body forcefully keeping you in motion. Nat's knee grew slick under the water as you came across her skin, breaking the kiss and crying out into the night.

"Such a good girl," Nat breathed, circling her knee four more times to ease you through it.

"Fuck," you sobbed, slumping in their arms as tears overcame you and you worked on recovering from the orgasm that just destroyed and put you back together all at once.

"Fucked stupid and sweet, just what I need," Shauna murmured as she stroked your sides with surprisingly tender hands while Nat kept her knee in place, not trusting you to be steady in the water.

"Why?" was all you could ask when you had wanted to break out numerous questions.

Shauna untangled wet hair, kissing small bites into your cheeks and neck. "You're so lonely, aren't you? We can't have Mari stealing you away. When the time comes, we need you on our side."

"For what?"

She did not reply.

After a while of floating in the water, most of it in which you yourself floated away from the place entirely, Nat and Shauna sought to get you out before you grew too cold.

Nat got out first and started a fire around the stump and chairs, but she seemed to be laying out the clothes like a blanket as Shauna guided you out and over to the fire.

They push you down and instead of leaving you to your own devices, Nat has you lay on top of her. "C'mon, let's cuddle," she murmured.

You didn't want to be touched, not by her or Shauna, or anyone. But your mental shields were shattered and Shauna was giving you a look as she threw a log into the flames, the orange flickering across her face like an angry shadow.

So you sit in Nat's lap instead of laying down, insisting you'd be more comfortable. She agrees and wraps your legs around her hips to help you get comfortable.

Nat was scratching at your back almost sweetly, and you could have fallen asleep then and there if it hadn't been for the fact that not even ten minutes later you felt her teeth grazing your shoulder and her fingers dipping low into your cunt.

You locked up in her arms, a high-pitched gasp escaping your lungs as her fingers sank into your heat which was still wet and allowed easy entrance.

"Were you sleepy? I'm sorry. I can't help it, you're just so beautiful and perfect like this," Natalie soothed as her other hand resumed stroking your back while two fingers started pumping evenly in and out of you.

You moaned into her bare neck, drool escaping as she brushed her nails against your walls. You started moving into the thrusts, unable to help yourself and feeling wanton.

"Does that feel good, baby? Does that make you happy?" Nat asked so softly and sweetly, peppering kisses along your skin endlessly. \

"Feels good," you whined.

"Good girl."

It wasn't long before Shauna joined in. "Fucking slut," the butcher hissed from behind you, getting to her knees with a soft thud on the laid out clothes and spitting on your back.

You squeaked when the wetness hit your skin, but quickly fingers swiped along the dip in your spine where it landed, collecting it on fingers.

"You're going to be fucking owned after tonight. Any pleasure you seek out will be from me or Nat. Any friendships you think you have will end. You don't need them."

Your body suddenly jerks forward when you feel Shauna's fingers start circling the outside of your back hole. "No, no, no," you blabbered, clenching up and trying to push as close to Nat as the huntress would allow.

"Hold her still," Shauna snapped.

Nat complied, stilling inside of you and killing the building orgasm in the process. She pressed her self as tight as possible into you and forced your writhing to come to a stop as Shauna pushed her way inside the outer rings of your ass.

"Ohmygod," you wailed, muffled, into Nat's shoulder as you tried to escape from the intrusion. Shauna snarled behind you and ran her free hand down your ass, nails leaving hot trails of stings in their wake.

"Move," Shauna ordered tightly, "fuck her like the whore she is."

Natalie pulled away to check your features -- she did not want to injure you in this. She saw only a glazed, floaty look in your eye and bit her lip before thrusting upwards again.

You gasped when Shauna followed suit, the two of them working in tandem to take you while you shivered and cried in their arms. Natalie whispered soothing praises in one ear while Shauna took from you and grew harsher in movement.

Something angry and disgusting was starting to coil like a viper in the darkest part of your entire being, wanting to strike them and cause as much pain as they were causing you. But instead only the crushing wave of the onslaught of an orgasm crashed into you.

You screamed through it -- it was devastating. It was the most painful thing you've ever experienced, and yet it was the greatest pleasure you've ever known. This is what destruction felt like and you reveled in it while also drowning in the aftermath.

They sat with you until the shakes and shudders ended, the only witness to your new life in the Wilderness being the moon you used to find comfort and escape from the overheating sun and burning in.

Now nothing in this world could keep you safe. Nothing, except maybe death.

PART TWO