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em1i2a3 · 3 days ago

Text

Headsick

Pairing: Todd Stevens x Fem!Reader!

Story Summary: You’re not his girlfriend and he’s not your boyfriend. You’ve never even kissed in public let alone been seen together outside of the classroom setting. But somehow, every time Todd Stevens is alone with you, it’s like his self-control gets tested in ways he never imagined. You were supposed to be just a secret–until hiding it stops feeling like protection and starts feeling like a punishment.

Chapter Three Summary: Revelations are made at the KNA mixer that can change you and Todd's arrangement catastrophically.

Story Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut, Fluff, Angst (there’s quite a bit, but there’s a happy ending), Alcohol Use, Smoking/Drug Use, Mentions of Hazing (nothing is explored, and we are not in typical canon of ‘The Line’ though the characters will still match their personalities, none of the events of the lake house happened), Todd is protective over his privacy and the Reader as well. Reader is also a Sociology Major, (also I’m using the year 2023 as reference because that’s when the movie came out and it would only make sense to use that…), I also can’t remember if it’s mentioned in the movie what Todd’s Degree is in so…I’m saying Poli Sci (this ain’t canon lol)

Smut Warnings (for this chapter): Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it up), Oral Sex (female receiving), Fingering, Handjob, Finger Sucking, Spitting, Dirty Talk, Mentions of a mark from sex.

Author’s Note: Happy to get this out! Hope y’all enjoy! Next week is the final part :)

Word Count: 8,360

Previous Part

You had never worn anything like this before.

Not to a party, or on campus, and definitely not to a frat party filled with people who would probably be clawing at you just for wearing something so tempting. But the dress had been hanging on the back of your closet door for three days now–since the night you ubered to the local mall and bought it–whispering promises every time you glanced at it.

And tonight, you were going to let it have its moment.

It slipped on like silk and clung like it had been designed for your body alone–black and wine-red, stitched with precision and intention. The red panels hugged your waist like parentheses, framing you in sharp contrasts, while the black shimmered softly over your hips and legs like liquid shadow. It was short enough to show off your legs, but not short enough to look like you were trying to garner everyone’s attention. It knew what it was doing. And you knew what Todd would think the second he saw you in it–not that you were trying to impress him…You were wanting to tempt him with something he couldn’t touch for the majority of the night.

The straps were delicate–barely-there silvers of fabric that crossed your shoulders like a suggestion instead of a boundary. The neckline scooped low, a gentle dip that exposed the top curve of your chest and just enough cleavage to turn heads. But that wasn’t the part that mattered the most.

It was the mark…The faint, violet-red bruise that was still in the shape of his mouth. It sat just above the dress line, high enough on your chest to be seen if someone happened to glance too long. You didn’t cover it, you didn’t even consider it, not really at least. You thought about it briefly while doing your minimal makeup, your fingers brushing over the mark with your lips twisting up with the memory playing out in your head–how Todd’s mouth locked onto you and sucked on your flesh with an animalistic sort of lust, how he bit and scraped his teeth along the sensitive skin there. You had told him to take it easy. You had warned him it was going to leave a mark, but he threw all reason out the window and left it there anyway.

And you thought as pay back you’d show it off tonight–an unspoken statement that only Todd would understand.

You moved to your desk, sliding open the shallow top drawer to grab your silver chain–a simple, delicate piece that caught the light and gently reflected it off into the distance. It kissed the dip of your collarbone and settled just above the mark–something to draw the eye. Your fingers traced the clasp once to make sure it was secure before you reached for your rings, slipping them on your designated fingers–your thumbs, your left pointer finger, and your right pinky.

You adjusted the angle of your mirror, smoothing your hands down the fabric of the dress. Turning slightly to the left, then to the right, checking the fabric, before you sprayed your orange blossom and vanilla perfume, letting it linger on your skin and hair. Your lip gloss was a sheer, flushed pink, and your bottom lip was swollen from where you had chewed on it while you were getting ready. You dabbed the excess from the corner of your mouth with the pad of your ring finger, eyes flicking toward the clock glowing quietly near your bed.

When–almost on cue–your phone buzzed on the comforter, and you crossed the room on bare feet and picked it up.

Todd: Need an Uber?

Short, simple, and polite like always. You let yourself smile just a little at the nonchalance, at the little things he always did to make sure you knew–even if it was accidentally–that you were on his mind in some capacity. You typed back quickly with one hand as you reached down towards the shoes near the edge of the bed, grabbing your sneakers and slipping them on, deciding to choose comfort over pain for the night.

You: I’ll walk, it’s only fifteen minutes.

You slipped your phone into your bag, letting your fingers smooth the sides of your dress one more time before making your way out, and starting your night.

———————

The air was cool against your skin, but there were still traces of warmth that clung to it in small little layers. You could feel it clinging to your skin as you walked the stretch of campus between your dorm and he KNA house, the sounds of the party growing louder with each step–music pulsing, laughter trailing down the streets, crowds moving around the small patches of lawns leading up to the main event.

The house was lit like a beacon, its windows glowing, the door open wide like a mouth, with pledges flanking both sides like unofficial bouncers. They were easy to spot in their all white uniforms with matching hard hats, awkward and flushed as they tried to keep everything running smoothly–doing the dirty work for their potential future frat brothers so that they could enjoy the party. Todd had mentioned it in passing that he wasn’t as hard on the pledges as the past presidents, but he still wanted to make sure they experienced a portion of the hazing he had to go through when he was a pledge. You never truly got into it with him about how bad it could get, but just from his tone you knew that there had definitely been some serious situations that happened which made him softer.

The sister sororities' pledges were dressed in white as well, most of them in tight lacy dresses that could’ve been confused for lingerie. You admired the fact that they were mingling with the awkward KNA guys and holding their own–they had something to prove to their fellow sisters too just like their counterparts.

Everyone else, on the other hand, was dressed in varying degrees of party effort. Some stuck with jeans and faded T-shirts, others went for dress shirts half-tucked into fitted slacks and dresses, the mix of casual and curated creating a visual chaos that matched the music pulsing through the walls. The air was practically made up of weed, cigar, and vape smoke mixed with alcohol and perfume. When you stepped into the KNA house–through the open mouth of the door and into the belly of noise and heat–you spotted Todd instantly.

He was leaning against the far wall just off the main hallway, mid-conversation with a few of his friends, talking with his hands and nodding along with whatever was being said to him. But he stood out, of course he did. Maybe it was the way the dark wine-red of his sweater echoed the same tone stitched through your dress, like the two of you had matched without meaning to. Maybe it was the crisp white of his shirt collar that framed his jawline, or the way his black jeans clung in all the right places without trying too hard.

Or maybe it was just that it was him, and he always drew your attention no matter what, even when you didn’t want to look at him it was like your eyes couldn’t resist it.

He was clean-shaven, his light brown hair pushed back like he’d actually run a comb through it rather than his fingers–fresh and precise. But the watch slipping down his wrist was too big, glinting a little too much in the low light, as if borrowed last minute. You couldn’t tell if that made it better or worse. You were about to look away–just for a second–when he looked up. A casual glance across the crowd.

And then did a double take.

It was quick. Just a flicker. The first look was automatic, the second was like an impact. His eyes caught on you and held there–lowering to take in your outfit, going over every inch like he was taking an itinerary. You saw the recognition in his gaze like a flash of heat. But to everyone else, it would’ve looked like nothing. Just a glance. Just a guy checking someone out at a party.

He turned back to his group, said something, giving them short nods and pats on the back, then like clockwork, the circle opened and shifted, and he stepped away from them, red solo cup in hand, sauntering through the crowd like he wasn’t in any kind of rush, even though his face was saying otherwise.

You could see the exact moment his gaze landed on it–the faint bruise that bloomed like a fingerprint above your neckline, stark and shameless beneath the thin trim of your dress. His jaw tensed, a muscle feathering in the corner as he bit the inside of his cheek, brows lifting ever so slightly like he couldn’t believe how far you had gone to truly tease him.

”Seems like someone wanted to show off tonight,” Todd murmured, voice pitched just for you as he finally stopped walking, his hand clenching his cup. You could practically feel the heat of him radiating through the subtle space between your bodies, the both of you taking quick glances at one another, attempting to look casual–to make it seem like this was a rare interaction the two of you had with one another, like you guys only crossed paths a handful of times even though he was under you just a mere ten hours before this whole ordeal. His eyes flicked deliberately to your chest, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. You tilted your head, feigning innocence as you caught his gaze with an easy shrug.

”I have no clue what you’re talking about President Stevens…I’m just a mere attendee of this party.” A low laugh broke from his chest, warm and amused, but it carried a bite–like he wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or provoked by your actions.

”A mere attendee that wants to drive the President crazy is more like it,” He murmured, glancing down again, slower this time, his stare burning over every curve the dress framed, every area he had touched on multiple occasions, every inch of skin his lips had found during your after class rendezvous and late night meetups, “Was it a calculated move to wear something this hot to a mixer?” You could feel warmth blooming up your chest and creeping up your neck until it settled on your cheeks, the comment inciting a little spark of heat in your belly. But you kept your composure, leaning in a bit.

”No…Just thought I’d dress up. Be a little bit of eye candy for…Certain people.” You said, keeping your voice light and airy, while still being loud enough for him to hear you over the booming music that vibrated through your body. His eyes darkened slightly, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip before he held your gaze again.

”Hope I’m included in that group…” You gave him a soft, knowing hum.

”Well…It’s not really a group when I’m only talking about one person. Initials are T.S…Sound familiar to you?” Todd’s breath left him in a quiet scoff, his smile crooked now–geniune with just a hint of danger flowing off it.

”Very.” The pause between you stretched out like an elastic, long enough for the party noise to fade around the edges, as if the both of you were in your own separate space even though people surrounded you and the world was still moving. His free hand twitched like he wanted to reach out to touch your waist, like he was fighting the urge to trace his fingers along the line of your hip just to see if the dress felt as good as it looked.

“Want me to grab you a drink?” He asked, voice a notch lower, his thumb hooking into his jean pocket, like it might help him in resisting the temptation to break every single rule the two of you had made for one another. You shook your head, your lips curling in a smirk as you backed half a step away from him.

”I’ll grab my own. You should go back to your friends though,” You said, turning your head towards the group that he stepped out of when he came to you, “Wouldn’t want them getting suspicious.” Todd felt his jaw clench at the comment, his teeth grinding for half a second before he gave you a sharp but reluctant nod. The motion was stiff, restrained–like he didn’t want to agree with you, even though you were making far more se3nse than the voice in his head that was begging him to throw all reason out the window. To drag you somewhere quiet, press his mouth to yours, and let the world know he was the reason you wore that smug little smile and that pretty little dress. That he was the one who also left the bruise on your chest. And that he was the only one who got to leave anything on you from now till whenever you decided things needed to end.

But he didn’t do anything.

He stepped back, slowly.

“Alright…” He muttered, his voice low but steady, gaze flickering down to your gloss stained mouth like it was a reflex at this point, like he could somehow coax you into kissing him, “I’ll be around.”

And just like that, he melted back into the crowd.

You let out a slow exhale through your nose, the tension bleeding off you in waves as you went your own way, weaving through the party like you had done this a hundred times before. You knew the layout of the KNA house like a map, especially from the last time you were here. It was all one giant open floor plan: it was evident the walls between the living room, dining room, and kitchen had been knocked down at some point throughout the years of the house belonging to the brothers, and what remained was a chaotic spraw of noise, and sweaty bodies.

You made it to the kitchen in less than a minute.

The air was marginally cooler in there, though not by much. It smelled like beer and cheap cologne, sweet mixers, and stale weed smoke. The fluorescent light hummed overhead as you stepped past a couple making out against the fridge–his hand creeping up her thigh while she whispered something in his ear. They didn’t even look as you passed. You navigated around them and reached on of the giant red coolers that sat cracked open on the floor, filled with half-melted ice and a jumbled mess of floating drinks.

You crouched down, the hem of your dress grazing the back of your thigh, and grabbed a cold can at random. You didn’t recognize the label, but you cracked it open anyway and took a sip. The wheat flavour hit your tongue immediately, sharp and biting, but you swallowed it down and took another just to keep yourself busy, and to chase the buzz that would shake your nerves. You lingered for a moment, letting the cold can sweat against your palm, before stepping out of the kitchen and back into the mess.

The party had taken on a pulse of its own.

Someone had moved the couch in the living room to make space for an impromptu dance floor, where a group of girls in glittering halter tops and cut-off skirts were dancing in a tight cluster, their laughter floating up over the bass. A guy in a backwards cap and open flannel was standing off to the side trying to hype them up, holding a vape like a mic and occasionally blowing clouds into the ceiling. You spotted two pledges being dared to take shots of something blue directly from a funnel in the corner, one of them already looking dangerously close to puking into his white hard hat.

One of the windows had been cracked, and the faintest scent of smoke drifted into the room, carried by the breeze of a half-broken ceiling fan that wobbled dangerously above the dining room. The long wooden table in there was littered with solo cups, empty bags of chips, and a very intense game of Kings Cup in progress. The deck of cards were soggy, one card was stuck to the condensation of a beer can, while the group erupted into groans when someone pulled a “waterfall” card.

You walked slowly through it all, taking it all in like it was a social science exhibit.

Voices overlapped, music thumped like a second heartbeat in your chest, and the floors were already stick in spots from spilled drinks. Someone passed by you too fast and brushed your shoulder, muttering a “my bad” without looking. Another guy held the door open for a group of girls walking in, nodding along like he knew at least two of them were there because they were aiming to get bedded by a frat boy.

You drifted toward the far side of the living room, settling in against the wall near a crooked bookshelf that held no books–just speakers, a lava lamp, and a lone bottle of Fireball someone had abandoned next to an upside-down baseball cap. From that corner, you could see the whole floor–like a surveyor from your own private perch. You took another slow sip of your beer and leaned back just enough to settle into the rhythm of the space.

And somewhere between the second and third sip, the nerves slipped off your shoulders like a shawl.

The hum of conversation, the clink of cans and laughter and basslines–it all started to sound less like noise and more like opportunity. Like a stage set for whoever wanted to be noticed. And you, apparently, did.

You chatted with a few people who drifted near your little corner, answering questions about your major, and dodging the occasional line that tried to toe into flirtation. You weren’t trying to be rude–you just had no intention of being anyone’s conquest tonight. Not when Todd was here. Not when you knew exactly how the night would end, and who’s arms you’d be in by that point.

Still, you let yourself play the part.

A guy in a Letterman jacket leaned against the wall beside you and struck up a conversation about mutual classes. Another offered to get you a drink before realizing you already had one in hand. A girl with perfect winged eyeliner asked if you were rushing Theta Chi and looked genuinely shocked when you shook your head.

“Oh…You’re not one of us?” She asked, her eyes flicking down your body, “You look like you could be.” You gave her a sweet smile and a tilt of your head.

”Just here for a friend…Moral support.” That line worked better than most explanations. It kept things vague but socially acceptable. Most people didn’t ask more questions after that.

But even if they did, you didn’t mind.

There was something delicious about the way people looked at you tonight. How you weren’t just part of the backdrop. You had presence. Confidence. A calm you hadn’t expected to feel.

Maybe it was the dress. Or the drinks. Or maybe it was just the steady burn of Todd’s gaze on your skin from across the room.

You hadn’t caught him outright staring yet–but you felt it. Every few minutes, the air shifted. Like a string was tugging between the two of you. And when you finally gave in and glanced across the floor toward him, your suspicions were confirmed.

He was standing near the corner of the dining room now, talking with two pledges and an upperclassman you vaguely recognized. His shoulders were loose, posture relaxed, but his eyes weren’t focused on the conversation.

They were focused on you.

At first glance, he looked like he was listening–nodding along with whatever was being said–but his gaze never left you for long. Even when two girls wandered over to talk to him, leaning in, touching his arm, laughing a little too loudly…He didn’t engage.

He smiled. Said something short. But his body language never changed. He never turned toward them fully. Never gave them the same warmth he’d reserved for you earlier.

It made your stomach tighten and curl in on itself, and you hoped you were seeing things right, or at least interpreting them as such.

You finished off your beer in a final gulp and looked down at the empty can in your hand. It had gone warm a while ago, but you didn’t notice. Crushing it gently between your fingers, you set it beside the lava lamp on the shelf, letting your eyes sweep back toward the crowd.

The pledges were much easier to spot now that the black lights were turned on–which caused them to look like they were glowing in the dark, as they moved around like statues. All of them looked tense, tried to keep their hands busy and attempted to make themselves useful. One was dancing in a circle of girls, another was filling the cooler with more ice, a few were refilling drinks and some were passing around ‘party favours’, which wasn’t an uncommon occurrence at KNA or other frat parties when things got rowdy.

You were just about to move from your spot–maybe to drift toward the dance floor or wander to the back patio for some air–when you heard someone call your name.

”Hey, you’re Y/N, right?” He had a bit of a southern drawl, like he’d been plucked straight out of a modern county fair and dropped into a frat house by accident. It made you turn instinctively toward the voice, and sure enough, standing in front of you was a KNA pledge–white uniform, hard hat and all–with two cans in his hand. One was open, while the other was unopened and icy, with condensation dripping down the sides. The kid looked like he was running off pure adrenaline–or possibly a line of coke, you didn’t know which one but he was definitely not hiding it well. His bright blue eyes were wide and a little jittery, his bushy eyebrows practically twitching with effort as he gave you a quick once-over.

His skin was pale–like, first-day-of-spring pale–and even in the dim light he looked translucent. Light brown hair poked out from under his plastic helmet, curling slightly at the ends. You narrowed your eyes slightly, confusion pulling at your brow.

”Yeah…Who’re you?” He grinned, a little too wide.

”Name’s Gettys. Gettys O’Brien…One of the pledges.” He informed.

You let out a soft snort, sarcasm laced through your tone as your gaze flicked briefly to the giant white hard hat on his head. “Oh, I couldn’t tell.”

He gave a breathless little laugh, the sound somewhere between embarrassed and flustered, like he hadn’t expected you to be this sharp. Or this pretty up close.

”What do you want, Gettys O’Brien?” You asked, tilting your head, voice playfully suspicious. He looked down at the unopened can in his hand, as if he’d forgotten it was there for a moment.

“Todd told me to bring this to you,” He said quickly, holding the green can out in front of him, “Said to tell you to stay hydrated.” You arched a brow, lips parting slightly as you accepted the drink. It was a lime sparkling water, the kind you had stocked in your rooms mini fridge, the one he had seen you drink on multiple occasions after the both of you had sex.

Your fingers turned the can slowly, letting the condensation slick your palms as your gaze drifted–slow, knowing–back across the room to where you’d last seen him. And sure enough, Todd was still there. Still talking to his group like nothing in the world had changed. Except this time, one hand wasn’t gesturing or holding a drink. It was tucked into his pocket, the exact kind of casual that was anything but.

“Oh really?” You murmured, voice dry with amusement. Gettys nodded earnestly, then leaned in a touch, dropping his voice like it mattered even in the middle of the chaos

“Don’t know if I’m oversteppin’ here, but I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you’re the one he talks to me about all the time…His special girl.” You blinked. The words didn’t register at first. But when they did, you froze, lips parting slightly as you stared at him like he’d just casually detonated something.

“His what?” Gettys’s eyes widened like he realized how that sounded, and he immediately took a hasty sip of his drink–then coughed violently, like karma smacked him in the throat for getting involved. He waved a hand and backpedaled with a frantic shake of his head.

“Well…I mean–not in those exact words. That’s just what I call you in my head, ‘cause, y’know…He speaks real highly of you all the time. Real respectful, too. Like…Like you matter. A lot. But nah, he’s never called you that, not out loud or nothin’–I’m just…” He trailed off, face going a bit red under the flickering lights, then muttered, “Ah, never mind. I’m gonna tie myself up in knots if I keep talkin’.” Your fingers tightened slightly around the can of sparkling water, the chill grounding you while your heart stuttered in your chest. You weren’t sure what got you more–the slip of the word special, or the fact that Todd talked about you. Talked about you to one of his pledges like he was proud of it, even if he’d never said anything close to that to your face.

And sure Gettys could’ve been loopy from pledge week stress. But there was something about the way he said it–the sheer sincerity and bumbling kindness behind it–made your stomach flutter like someone had struck a tuning fork right behind your ribs.

You tilted your head, voice quieter now. “Nobody else knows but you, right?”

Gettys straightened a little at that, immediately nodding, almost too quickly. “’Course not. I’m real good at keepin’ secrets. Especially when the president gives me orders. I only told you ’cause you already know you’re…Well…You. Though I think I mighta messed up by tellin’ you about him talkin’ about you so…” He scratched at the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Maybe don’t tell him I said anything like that. Please.”

You bit back your grin, the edges of your lips twitching as you nodded once, the buzz of the party fading to the background again.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” You replied, voice smooth.

Gettys exhaled in relief, taking another sip of his drink, though this time with more caution. “Appreciate that,” He said. “I like this job. Don’t wanna get kicked off delivery duty or… I dunno…Assigned to mop detail for a week.” You laughed softly, and it startled you a little. Not because it happened, but because it felt easy. Like this whole strange moment was somehow the most honest thing you’d experienced all night.

“Better get back to those duties though,” Gettys commented with a small grin, stepping back and giving you a polite little nod, like he was tipping a cowboy hat that wasn’t there. “It was nice bein’ able to put a name to the face.” You gave him a small smile and a nod.

”It was nice meeting you too, Gettys.” With that, he disappeared into the crowd, swallowed up by the pulse of the party and the chaos of whatever task he’d get roped into next. You watched him go for just a beat, the green can still cool in your hand, before you cracked it open with a sharp hiss and took a quick sip–cool bubbles fizzing across your tongue, grounding you.

Then, without thinking too hard about it, you reached for your phone.

Your fingers moved on instinct, quick and smooth, like muscle memory. You didn’t draft the message twice or wonder if it was too forward. You were too far past that for second-guessing. The weight of the moment–the dress, the bruise, the heat of his gaze across the room–had built into something you couldn’t ignore anymore.

You: Your room? Five minutes?

You hit send and didn’t breathe for a moment, eyes locked on the message thread. Across the room, you saw him shift. He was nodding along to something, but the second his phone buzzed in his back pocket, he reached for it without hesitation. You watched his brow furrow briefly as he glanced at the screen–then the shift in his entire body was palpable. Like someone flipped a switch inside him. He visibly gulped, and you saw him quickly typing.

Then your phone buzzed.

Todd: I’ll meet you there.

You bit your bottom lip, hard enough to leave an indent, and shoved the phone back into your purse, heart thumping loud in your chest. Another quick sip of the sparkling water, just to cool the flush blooming up your neck, and you were moving–swift and subtle.

You weaved through the crowd, dodging elbows and stumbling dancers, your pace steady but deliberate. Up the stairs, past the framed composite photos and pledge paddles mounted on the wall. The hallway was quieter, lit in soft yellow, with the bass of the party still thudding like a heartbeat below your feet.

You found his room quickly, and pushed the door open just enough to slip in without drawing attention.

It was quiet inside, like it was the one and only time you’d been in there. The door clicked softly shut behind you, and you leaned against it for a moment, exhaling slow, your chest rising and falling beneath the fabric of your dress. The scent of his room–warm, clean, faintly woodsy with a sharp edge of cologne–wrapped around you instantly. You took another sip of the water, the fizz dancing on your lips, and tried to ignore how badly your hands itched to touch something. Him.

The door creaked again.

You barely had time to turn before Todd slipped in behind you and pushed the door shut, locking it without breaking eye contact.

“Hey–“

You didn’t get any other words out before he surged forward with a quiet intensity, hands finding your waist and lips crashing into yours before you could even take another breath. His mouth was hot, hungry, and familiar–tasting faintly of beer and mint and something uniquely him as he kissed you like he’d been holding back for hours. Like he’d finally snapped. Like every self-imposed rule between you had just shattered under the weight of your dress and the bruise he left behind. You made a soft noise into his mouth as he pressed you back against the door, his hands already exploring, skimming over your waist and hips, tugging you closer with a quiet groan that buzzed against your lips.

“Fuck,” He breathed between kisses, voice hoarse, “I was waiting for you to message me.” You let out a soft laugh against his mouth, breathless and a little dazed.

“Well, lucky I was the first one to give in, huh?” Todd groaned low in his throat, almost like it pained him to admit it.

“You just couldn’t resist…” Before you could respond, he plucked the half-finished can of sparkling water from your hand and reached blindly for the edge of his dresser, placing it down with a metallic clink. His eyes were already back on you before the can settled.

“We’ve got a bit of a time crunch,” He murmured, voice low and a little ragged as he cupped your hips again. “Told the guys some of the pledges needed my help, so…” His hands slipped lower, fingers splaying over the backs of your thighs, and suddenly you were off the ground–lifted with such practiced ease it made your breath hitch. “Let’s get you on my desk so we’re not tempted to stay in here for the rest of the night, huh?” You raised an eyebrow as he started toward the desk, moving quickly.

“You saying you don’t want to be stuck in here with me all night?” Todd let out a little sigh through his nose, half amusement, half exasperation, as he nudged a pile of books and a closed laptop to the side with one hand, the other keeping you steady on his hip. He set you down on the edge of the desk like you were something delicate, even though the look in his eyes said he wanted to ruin you.

“Course I do,” He muttered, brushing your hair back from your face with both hands, thumbs skimming along your cheeks. “But I’ve got duties tonight, unfortunately.” You opened your mouth to tease him again, but he didn’t give you the chance.

His hands cupped your face like he was grounding himself–and then he kissed you again. Harder. Messier. Sloppier. Tongues clashing, lips sliding, teeth knocking with a desperate sort of rhythm that made your thighs tighten around his waist. He tasted like beer and something sharp, like frustration, like need.

You gasped softly into his mouth as his hands slid down again, clutching your hips, dragging you closer to the edge of the desk until your thighs were spread around him. Your hands curled into his wine-red sweater, fisting the soft fabric, anchoring yourself there as you dragged him even closer.

Todd let out another soft grunt, his lips leaving yours only to trail lower–wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your throat, teeth scraping at the sensitive spot just under your ear. You shivered when his tongue licked slow and deliberate along the edge of your silver chain, following it all the way down to the mark he’d left earlier.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about people seeing this and wondering who put it there,” Todd whispered against your skin, his lips brushing the bruise like a secret, like he was sharing something only you could hear. His mouth latched onto it again with gentle suction, drawing the blood back to the surface, intensifying the mark he’d left earlier like he wanted to claim you twice over. You felt the heat of it ripple down your chest, your thighs instinctively squeezing around his hips as you arched slightly into the contact. Then he let out a low sigh. “Shift back a bit more.”

You obeyed without question, bracing your palms against the edge of the desk as you scooted back until your hips were flush with the surface. Todd’s hands found your knees, warm and steady, and he pushed them open just a little wider, stepping in until he was between your legs, his breath painting a trail down the front of your chest.

“Been wanting to taste you all night,” He murmured, eyes hooded as he leaned up to kiss your lips–soft and slow this time, a stark contrast to the heat simmering just beneath it. His hands cupped your face, fingers slipping into your hair before he broke away just enough to murmur against your mouth, “You don’t mind, right?”

You shook your head instantly. “No…Please.” Something about the way you said it made his breath stutter. He gave you a crooked smile–equal parts pleased and wrecked–then dropped to his knees like gravity had claimed him on the spot.

The hem of your dress was bunched up with careful urgency, pushed up around your waist as Todd’s hands traced up your thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh with such gentleness. When he saw the black lace between your legs, his gaze darkened, his pupils dilating like he was trying to memorize it.

“Seems like you were expecting me,” He said, voice dipped in praise and delight, his fingers brushing the damp fabric as his mouth curled into a smug little smile. You huffed a breathless laugh, threading your fingers through his hair and giving a light tug.

“Let’s just say I had a feeling.” Todd didn’t say anything else–just let out a quiet groan before hooking his fingers into the waistband and dragging the lace down in one fluid motion, rough and greedy. He bunched them in one fist and tossed them blindly over his shoulder, too focused on what was in front of him to care where they landed. Then his hands returned to your thighs, spreading you open again, exposing every inch of you to the low light and his full attention.

“Fuck,” He whispered, almost winded by the sight in front of him, “You’re already wet.” The air hit your slick folds and made you shiver, but the moment was short-lived–because Todd leaned in and licked one long, slow stripe up your center, moaning low like he was tasting something he’d been dreaming about for days. His hands clutched the tops of your thighs, anchoring you as his tongue flicked over your clit, warm and wet and unrelenting.

You gasped, one hand slapping against the wall behind you while the other stayed buried in his hair. “T-Todd–” He groaned again, louder this time, like your moan did something to him, and dove back in with a messy hunger that made your eyes roll back. He was sloppy with it–wet, open-mouthed kisses to your folds, tongue curling and flattening, circling your clit with a dizzying rhythm that made your thighs tremble. You could hear the slick sound of his tongue against you, could feel the drool mixing with your arousal as it dripped down your slit, catching on his chin.

His hands shifted, one staying on your thigh, the other moving down to press two fingers at your entrance. He teased–just barely–before easing them inside slowly, curling them with practiced intent until he hit the exact spot that made your body jolt.

“Oh fuck…There…Todd, right there–” You moaned

“I know,” He rasped, voice muffled against you, breath hot as his tongue dragged back up to your clit. “I’ve got you. Just hold still for me, Y/N…” His fingers worked in and out of you, fucking you open while his mouth stayed locked on your clit, lapping and sucking with that same sinful intensity that made your hips buck off the desk. You were soaking, your slick coating his fingers, dripping down onto his wrist, your thighs, the desk beneath you.

The sounds were obscene–slick and wet and loud–but you didn’t care. You were panting, writhing, your head falling back against the wall as he devoured you like he had no plans of stopping until you begged.

And you were close–too close–your stomach tightening with that hot, spiraling pressure that made your toes curl in your sneakers.

“Don’t stop…Don’t stop, please–”

Todd groaned like it physically pained him to hear you beg, and doubled down–sucking harder, his fingers thrusting faster, wetter, deeper, the heel of his palm grinding against your mound as he fucked his hand into you.

You felt it break over you like a wave.

Your orgasm crashed hard and fast, ripping through your body as your thighs clamped around his head and your fingers pulled at his hair. You cried out, a choked, helpless sound that filled the room, your hips grinding down into his mouth as he licked you through every pulse, every spasm, until you were trembling in his grip.

Even then, he didn’t stop.

He slowed, sure, but his tongue kept moving–gentle now, soft licks to your clit as he kissed you like he loved the taste. He moaned again, low and drawn out, before pulling back slightly, licking his lips with a dazed expression as he stared up at you.

”Could fucking live off of you…” You tried to reply to him, but all that came out was a breathy whimper, your chest still rising and falling in shallow waves. Todd stood slowly, taking his fingers out of you, licking the corner of his mouth before leaning in to kiss you–deep and slow, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, letting you feel just how wrecked he was.

His fingers–still glistening with your slick–curled under your jaw as he pulled back just enough to murmur, “You good?” You nodded, breathless and trembling, your hand wrapping around Todd’s wrist as it hovered near your jaw. You guided it up gently, your eyes locked on his, and opened your mouth just enough to take his fingers between your lips. You sucked slowly, moaning softly at the taste of yourself still clinging to his skin. His breath hitched, his pupils blown wide as he watched you–completely transfixed.

Your tongue traced between his knuckles, then along the pads of his fingers, licking him clean with languid reverence. You let them go with a quiet pop, the saliva-slick digits trailing down your chin, glistening like gloss as he used them to tilt your head just a little. His eyes traced every inch of your expression like he was imprinting it onto his soul.

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispered, voice thick with need and awe. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t performative. It sounded like the first time he’d ever said it out loud–like he meant it more than anything. Then he leaned in and kissed you again.

But this time, it was different.

His lips moved against yours with slow desperation, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as if he wanted to taste the breath from your lungs, wanted to press so close he could fuse you together. You responded in kind, letting your hand move down–slipping under the hem of his sweater, your fingers skimming along the soft skin above his waistband. You felt his stomach twitch beneath your touch, muscles flexing in anticipation.

Your other hand made quick work of his belt, fingers trembling slightly from the aftershocks still rippling through your body. The metal clinked softly, the leather sliding loose before you unbuttoned his jeans, dragging the zipper down with a slow, teasing pull. He groaned into your mouth, hips jerking forward slightly as you slipped your hand beneath the waistband of his boxers and wrapped your fingers around him.

He was already hard.

Already leaking.

Your fingers curled around the base of him, and you felt the slick heat of his arousal coating the head. You groaned softly into his mouth, using it to stroke along his length, spreading the pre-cum with slow, languid strokes. It made everything glide smoother, your hand twisting up and over the flushed tip, teasing the slit with your thumb. He was throbbing in your palm, twitching with every pass.

“Todd,” You breathed, lips brushing his as you worked him with slow, worshipful attention. “You’re so hard for me already…”

“Fuck…” He choked, pulling away from the kiss with a sharp inhale, his hand catching your wrist, gripping it with trembling restraint. “Fuck, Y/N… Can’t…Can’t take much more of that.” You looked up at him, dazed and flushed.

“Why not?” You asked, your thumb dragging through the mess at his tip again. “You’re dripping for me…” He groaned, a low, guttural sound that rattled in his chest, and leaned his forehead against yours for a beat, breathing ragged.

“Because I need to be inside of you,” he said roughly, his voice almost breaking. “Right fucking now.” You nodded instantly, your body already arching toward him like a magnet as you let go, and he exhaled in relief, dragging his jeans and boxers down in one swift motion. He was flushed, already glistening with arousal, and it made your mouth water just looking at him. He stepped forward again, grabbed you by the waist, and pulled you right to the edge of the desk. Your thighs opened a little wider, your back arching slightly as he reached between you, dragging the head of his cock through your soaked folds–slicking himself up with everything you’d given him. The contact made both of you gasp, your hips twitching as he nudged your clit with the head, smearing your wetness all around you.

“Jesus Christ…Always so fucking wet for me…Always ready to be fucked.” You nodded, moaning as he dragged himself through your folds again, circling your entrance with aching precision.

“Only for you…” Todd looked like he was going to lose his mind at that. His jaw clenched, eyes fluttering shut briefly as he lined himself up–and then he pushed in.

The first inch stole your breath.

The next made you whimper, your body opening for him like it had been waiting for this exact moment.

He buried himself deep, inch by inch, until he was fully seated inside you, hips pressed to yours, his cock pulsing where it stretched you open. Your thighs trembled around him, arms wrapping tight around his shoulders, anchoring yourself to the sensation.

“Oh my god…” You whispered. Todd let out a ragged breath, eyes locked on yours, his expression crumbling into something raw and unguarded.

“You’re fucking made to take me…It’s like I’m seeing God when I’m fucking you.” He murmured, voice hoarse with awe. He didn’t move right away. He just stayed like that, buried deep inside you, his forehead pressed to yours, both of you shaking slightly from how intimate it was.

Then he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed or greedy.

It was devotional–something you rarely felt in the kisses he had given you before. His tongue licked into your mouth slowly, his breath shuddering against your cheek as his hips began to roll–deep, grinding thrusts that made you see stars. Each one sent him brushing that perfect spot inside you, his pelvis grinding against your clit, the wet sound of your bodies meeting filling the quiet space between the beats of the music from downstairs.

“You’re…You’re mine.” Todd whispered against your lips, voice thick and reverent. You moaned into his mouth, your hands tightening into his sweater.

“Yours…” Was the only thing you could manage to get out. That did something to him. His rhythm stuttered, and then he pulled back just far enough to look at you–eyes wide and shining with heat.

“Open your mouth,” he said, voice suddenly rougher. “Please.”

You obeyed instantly.

He leaned in, tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip, and then he spit gently into your mouth, the warm weight of it landing in the back of your throat. You swallowed it up without hesitation, grabbing the front of his sweater and yanking him back into another kiss–sloppy, needy, with tongues colliding as he thrusted into you harder, even deeper than before. Every movement, every moan felt like a declaration.

You weren’t playing anymore.

This was more than tension. More than sneaking around.

It was intimate.

It was worship.

Todd was panting now, the rhythm of his thrusts growing frantic, chasing both of your releases with desperate need. His hands found your hips, gripping tight enough to bruise, guiding your body to meet every thrust.

“I’m not gonna last,” He growled against your neck. “You feel too fucking good–swear to god I could die like this.”

“Don’t stop,” You whimpered. He grabbed your hand suddenly, lacing your fingers together and pressing them against your chest as he drove into you again and again, the sound of your slickness growing louder, wetter, messier.

“I’ve got you,” He groaned, voice breaking. “I’ve got you, Y/N…Come with me…Fuck, please come with me.” You shattered around him with a cry, your body arching as you clenched down on him, walls spasming with hot, tight waves of pleasure that didn’t end. You trembled, helpless, your hand gripping his like a lifeline.

Todd cursed, and with one last thrust, he followed–burying himself deep and coming hard, pulsing inside you with a strangled moan that sounded like it had been ripped from the center of his chest, filling you with his warmth that flooded you and filled every space inside your core.

He didn’t move for a long moment.

Just held you, his forehead on your shoulder, both of you shaking with the aftermath. His breath fanned hot against your skin as he slowly kissed your chain, your jaw, the corner of mouth, until he reached your lips, giving you a soft peck.

When he finally pulled back to look at you, his eyes were blown wide and glossy, his thumb brushing your cheek again like he needed to keep touching you to believe this was real.

“You’re fucking everything,” He whispered. “Don’t care what this is or isn’t… Just…Fuck. You’re everything.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, but what you did know…Was that you were falling in love with Todd Stevens and you had no idea what you were going to do with that revelation.

#lewis pullman #frat boy lewis #lewis pullman the man you are #lewis pullman characters #todd stevens x you #todd stevens fluff #todd stevens smut #todd stevens x reader #todd stevens #the line 2023 #the line #soft frat boys…Wheew #Spotify

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kryptonkisses · 2 days ago

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MOVE ME, BABY

David Corenswet!Clark Kent x Fem!reader

Summary: You and Clark find a new way for him to relax after another day of saving the world.

AN: can you guys tell i’ve never written smut before? i’m very scared of being perceived and i don’t want to disappoint 😭 feedback and tips are much appreciated!! (also yes the title is based on the Hozier song lol)

CW: Established relationship, pegging, fingering (male receiving), slight praise kink, handjob, one singular swear, clark is an angel

word count: 1.3k

Clark was strong. You knew that, even before you knocked his glasses off mid-make out two months ago and found out he was the flying hero everyone had been talking about. Strength was hidden under his calloused palms and solid arms when he made you coffee in your favorite porcelain cup. You felt it whenever he placed that same hand on your back to move by you in the kitchen. You saw it on the news when Superman lifted a building with those same hands that treated you with gentleness you couldn’t even comprehend. Yet, you also felt the restraint that bubbled under his skin whenever he had you in bed. It was like he was always just a little apprehensive to completely let go.

You wanted to change that. He always gave you mind-blowing pleasure that could wreck you into the next year, but kept himself controlled.

You suggested this once as a joke. You should’ve known the man with x-ray vision could see through your attempt at covering up arousal with humor.

“Are you okay?” He asks gently, even though he’s the one in the vulnerable position, fully naked and sprawled out on his back.

”Of course. Are you?” You whisper, opening the bottle of lube you had purchased. You put a small amount on your fingers. It was cool and slick as you rub it onto his hole.

He nods, blushing a little from the contact. Although, he had been blushing all night. Once you were positive that both your fingers and him were well lubricated, you look back into his eyes.

”I’m going to start with my fingers, like we talked about” You breathe out, having to psych yourself up as much as him. It was a bit of a daunting act to finger Superman. “You’ll have to tell me if anything hurts, okay?”

He smiles lazily, dimples showing. ”I’ve gotten thrown through buildings, I doubt your hands can bring any harm to me.”

As if you needed another reason to adore him.

You start with your middle finger, wanting him to get used to the sensation. You pump your digit, feeling around gently as his warm walls squeeze around you. When you find his prostate, you’re both a little surprised. Him, because it sends a shockwave of pleasure up his spine that was completely foreign to his body. And you, because you both weren’t entirely sure how this aspect of his anatomy would differ from a regular man due to his Kryptonian ancestry.

Eager to hear more of the pretty noises he was making, you work him up to two, and then three fingers. It gives you more of a power trip than you’d like to admit, watching how his grip on the sheets tightens when you press inside him just right. You look down at his throbbing cock, pooling pre-cum at his navel, and gently take it into your free hand to stroke it.

”Oh, gosh” He whines, eyes fluttering at the dual stimulation. “Baby, I think-I think I’m going to-“

He starts shooting ropes of cum up his stomach before he can finish his sentence, which was a first. He was usually (somewhat) composed when he reached his peak, but you weren’t complaining. Secretly, you hoped that was the first of many.

“There we go, that’s it” You whisper, watching him work through his climax before removing your hands from him. You can’t help but lean down to kiss the furrow in his brow. You give him a moment to cool down, watching his muscles slowly relax once more. “So good, so perfect, love. Do you still want to do more?”

“Yes,” He whispers quickly, piercing blue eyes locking to yours with a desperation that makes warmth flood to your core. “Please…I want more”

You would give him the moon and stars if you could. Another good orgasm would have to do in the meantime.

You push back from his chest to pick up the strap-on that had been laying next to you. You make quick, steady work of fastening the harness around your hips. You adjust the sleek, blue dildo (that he picked out) and apply more lube to it. You were still a little afraid of hurting him, despite that not even being a thought in his mind. His body could handle a lot, but that didn’t stop you from handling him like it was anything but. You guide his thighs to open a little more, and start to guide the dildo to his twitching hole. His hand finds purchase on your side, squeezing like it was the only thing keeping him here on Earth. Slowly, you push in. Just the tip at first to allow him time to adjust. It was a bit different than your fingers had been, and you could see the realization in his face.

”You’re ok, honey, just breathe” You instruct in a soft tone, rubbing the sides of his thighs until he nods to continue. You can’t tear your eyes away from the silicone slowly disappearing inside of him, and the way his breath hitches and wavers with every inch.

“Oh my…feels different” He says in a shaky tone “Not bad, please don’t stop. It’s just a lot.”

”I know,” You respond. “We’re going to take our time. Just let go and feel.”

You talk him through it as you give your first, experimental, thrust. You notice immediately how his abs clench and his biceps flex every time you give a roll of your hips. You rub his chest gently to get his attention.

“I said let go, yeah?” You ask, looking directly into his dilated pupils. “Don’t hold back. This is all for you.”

He nods, but the restraint doesn’t dissipate until you angle your hips just right and his entire body jerks.

“Sh-shit, baby” He moans. You grin like you’d just won the best prize in the world: breaking Clark Kent.

“Yeah? Right there?” You ask, repeatedly hitting the spot inside him that made his dick leak and hole clench around the silicone. His ass starts rocking back against your strap, and you weren’t even sure if he was aware of it from the way his head was thrown back. His thick, aching cock bounces with every movement. He grips your sides again with more firmness than usual. “You’ve been holding out on me, Kent.”

His movements only get more sloppy as his body chases its high. You whisper praises when he seems to get overwhelmed, but the moans ringing through your bedroom put to rest any worries you ever had about doing this. His body starts to shake and he sucks your strap impossibly deeper, like he wants to keep it there and experience this euphoria forever.

”Honey-honey please, can I?” He whimpers, taking his hand off your waist to fumble and hold one of your own.

“Yes” You say, locking your fingers together and pressing his back against the mattress. “Come for me, Clark.”

His whole body tenses up, legs locking around your waist, before he makes an even bigger mess on himself. His cock jerks and his balls tighten, wave after wave of cum shooting up to his chest. You watch in awe and try to not overstimulate him too much. You come to a full stop, pressing your pelvis to his the second he squeezes your hand again. He was panting, whining, nearly crying. You lean down and kiss his bitten lips, dragging them over his jawline down to his neck to try and soothe him.

”I swore at you” He breathes against your cheek, running a hand over your arm.

”I think it was warranted” You chuckle, kissing his cheek again. You move to pull out but he stops you, holding your hips against him with need.

”Just…just stay for a minute” He whispers, eyes fluttering closed as you lean back in. “Is that ok?”

”Of course” You respond, settling back against his body like you were meant to always be there. And in that moment, you were. Not even a cosmic emergency, or an alien invasion, or corrupt world leaders, could tear you from your Clark.

#clark kent #david corenswet #superman #superman fanfiction #james gunn #superman 2025 #superman smut #clark kent smut #clark kent fanfiction #david corenswet superman

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sherlocked-hunter-in-the-tardis · 2 days ago

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So I know you said Dick regresses to around 4-5 years old, but has he ever gotten little little? Like tiny baby little?

(BTW LOVE your writing, it’s like a nice cozy blanket :) )

AWWW THANK YOUUU!!! 💖

That makes me so happy to hear, you have no idea!! I try really hard to make my writing feel like a safe little space, so knowing it feels like a cozy blanket?? UGH, YOU’RE THE SWEETEST 💖💖💖

And YES!!! Teeny tiny Dick Grayson?? OH YOU KNOW I HAVE THOUGHTS 😭🍼

Sometimes he gets so overwhelmed or tired that he just crumbles all the way down into the littlest baby bird 🐣 Pacis, blankies, cuddles, full-on being rocked in someone's arms—yep. He goes there.

So!! Without further delay, here are my teeny tiny Dicklet headcanons!!!

I HOPE YOU LOVE THEM 💙🧸✨ LET’S GO!!!

🍼 Tiny Baby Dick Grayson Headcanons (Ages 1–2)

🌙 When It Happens:

Usually after major overstimulation, burnout from trying to “fix” everything, or after holding up too many emotional plates for too long.

If someone he loves is hurt or angry with him? That’ll send him straight down.

If Bruce yells at him, or he feels rejected or unseen, he might quietly crumble into tiny space without a word.

👶 Behavior When Tiny:

He goes completely nonverbal—soft coos, babbles, little whimpers. Doesn’t talk or sign, just emotes and cries when he needs something.

Clingy to the max. Like Velcro koala clingy. If he’s not being held, he’s either crying or trying to crawl his way onto someone.

Lots of thumb-sucking and clutching his blankie. He has a silky one (blue, of course) that he rubs between his fingers and cheek for comfort.

Big eyes, super expressive. He doesn’t need to talk; everyone knows what he’s feeling just by looking at him.

🧸 Comfort Needs:

Needs to be carried. All the time. He’ll just melt if someone puts him down.

Loves to be swaddled even though he’s a bit big for it. Bruce has gotten creative with weighted blankets and stretchy wraps.

Responds really well to gentle rocking, soft shushing, and being sung to. Especially lullabies in Romani. Bruce tries.

Needs physical contact to feel safe. He’ll curl up on Bruce’s chest with his ear over Bruce’s heartbeat and just… breathe. Sometimes for hours.

🍼 Feeding Time:

Takes bottles when he’s that small. He’ll latch onto them like he was born for it, tiny fists holding on, staring up with bleary eyes.

If someone holds the bottle for him? Bonus cuddles. Dick will wrap both arms around them and fall asleep while drinking.

Occasionally drinks warm formula or milk from a sippy if he’s just starting to come out of tiny space.

🛌 Sleepytime Routine:

Needs someone in the bed or crib with him. Bruce or Alfred often end up curled up beside him on the nursery floor mattress.

Falls asleep instantly if someone rubs his back in slow circles.

Soft lullabies and star projectors help; he loves gentle lights on the ceiling. It calms his racing mind.

Will absolutely wake up crying if he’s alone. That baby monitor stays on.

💙 Who He Clings To:

Bruce is the favorite—always. The safest. Bruce is “Dada” when Dick’s this small, though Dick usually can’t say it. Just reaches.

Alfred is second-in-command for naps and bottles.

Cass is the baby whisperer. She just scoops him up and sways, and he melts like butter.

Jason and Tim both get flustered. Jason panics when baby Dick starts crying. Tim freezes and goes “Is he leaking? Is that what babies do??”

Damian pretends to be grossed out but actually tucks a stuffie next to Dick and calls him “small bird” in the softest voice ever.

💭 Embarrassment Afterward:

He definitely remembers some of it.

Won’t make eye contact. Immediately goes out to patrol like nothing happened.

Bruce has learned not to tease, but he does hug Dick a little longer the next day, and whisper, “I’m proud of you, baby boy,” just once, because Dick blushes red to his ears and pretends he didn’t hear it.

That's about all I got, I think lol

Do you wanna a story where Dick actually regresses that tiny for the first time in front of the fam? Or maybe how everyone reacts when it happens?

I'm right here! Talk to me, guys!❤️‍🔥

#ask #anon ask #age regression #age regressor #sfw age regression #sfw agere #nonsexual age regression #agere community #agere headcanons #batman agere #batman #batfamily #batkids #dick grayson #bruce wayne

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chasingbutterfliesintoeternity · 7 months ago

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(Ithaca Saga spoilers ahead) Another EPIC/PJO crossover plot point that’s just occurred to me

I was super happy and excited to see Athena again, but her reunion with Odysseus just broke my heart. She’s come such a long way and done so much for him since they parted and now there’s a chance they’ll never properly make up?

But then I thought that it kinda works perfectly with the relationship between PJO’s Athena and Poseidon. So, in my headcanon, while EPIC’s Poseidon physically appears to be in his mid to late 20s, acts more like a cruel and petulant teenager. He actually gets worse for a bit after recovering from 600 Strike; think a few centuries of record sea storms. Then he finally starts calming down, has a whole bunch more demigod kids and realises through them that mortal life is fleeting and precious, and slowly becomes a much nicer person to be around. Leading him to becoming the actually chill, fisherman dad we know in PJO who’s everyone’s favourite uncle.

…Well almost everyone. Athena certainly still doesn’t like him. And while that might just be the rivalry they’ve had since the whole Athens thing, what if it’s because Athena’s never forgiven Poseidon for what happened with Odysseus? What if Odysseus rejecting her vision of a better world in I Can’t Help But Wonder is what leads her to becoming bitter enough to go completely mad with Roman Schism and end up sending the best of her demigod children on death quests?

Anyways can’t wait to add this nugget to the interaction between EPIC!Athena and PJO!Poseidon when I finally write my time travelling crossover.

#epic the musical #epic the ithaca saga #character study #epic athena #epic poseidon #PJO #I’m upset that our favourite goddess and man duo didn’t properly make up and I’m gonna write/draw my feelings #this is all I’m going to be talking about for the next bit lol

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museenkuss · 4 months ago

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Not the lady at the perfume counter annoying me with that “do you need help?” “Not right now, thank you” … “do you need help?” Until I DID ask her a question to get her off my back and she went “well you’ll have to check yourself” …excuse me? What good is your help, exactly?

#pissed me OFF #shadowing me like I’ll steal her fucking Calvin Klein & not even being able to actually provide the service she was pushing on me #you could tell in her eyes that she had no idea what I was talking about either hhh #just let me roam in peace then wtf #(the question was ‘do you have the almond infusion from the prada infusions line’ absolute blank stare lol)#(they did not btw. I knew that but wanted to see if she had like. an alternative. but if you don’t even know what I’m TALKING about?!)#(and instead do a fucking ‘oh well you’re not worth my work time’?! outrageous lol)#(— I’m not going to think you have ANY expertise beyond ‘this projects well. it’s sweet you’ll love it :)’ which she did to someone else)#god #making me feel less than because YOU don’t know your shit?! oh my god #I’ll be mad about that all day #and I KNOW this lady and I’m sure she recognises me because I’m there so often #so I figured I’d talk to her. not going to do that again lol #do you know how embarrassing that was. like her blank stare and the ‘you’ll have to check’#I even went ‘well it’s not ok the shelves. you only have the green one’#‘well in that case we don’t.’ ‘okay’ ???!!! oh my god #fuming hhhh #next time I should do the Café Korte bit #‘we’ll do you have Chanel 1932? do you have Chanel no19 poudré? Ich denke NICHT’

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adeptustemptations · 1 month ago

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How do you think caleb or any of the others lads guys would react to their wife lactating? 👀 do you think that they'd be down to try it? I love your writing!! 💗💗

Honey, is that...? 🍼

(wc. 2.1k) How would the LADS boys react when they spot you, their wife, lactating?

featuring: rafayel x reader, sylus x reader, caleb x reader, zayne x reader, xavier x reader (all separate) warnings: mild smut, mdni.

a/n: first request down! i definitely think all of the boys would be down to try it LOL. i had so much fun writing this. hope you guys enjoy! c:

🧜 RAFAYEL:

At first, you think Rafayel’s being moody because of something work related. Probably just something about him not getting inspiration for his next piece.

He's quiet during dinner, pushing his food around with the fork, glancing at you between bites but saying nothing. Then he sighs. Dramatically. Like you’ve just told him the love of his life is marrying someone else.

“Do you need the tub prepared?” you ask, gently patting the baby's mouth with a cloth as your baby drifts off to sleep, full and milk-drunk in your arms.

He shrugs. “No.”

Another sigh. Even more dramatic this time.

You narrow your eyes. “Okay, what’s wrong with you?”

Silence.

You put the baby down in the bassinet, tiptoeing back to the couch where he’s brooding like a man personally victimized by your child. You sit beside him and poke his thigh.

“Rafayel. Talk.”

He doesn’t answer at first. Just shifts in his seat dramatically, like you should already know why he’s in a mood.

You raise a brow. “Raf?”

“…Why does he get to taste it?” he finally mutters.

You blink. “What?”

Rafayel lifts his gaze, eyes narrowed. “Your milk. The baby gets all of it. Meanwhile, I, your husband, don’t even get to try?”

You stare at him, baffled, amused, a little turned on by how offended he looks.

He shifts closer suddenly, tone softening like he’s trying to guilt you.

“You used to let me suck on them all the time,” he mumbles, voice pitiful. “Now I get nothing.”

“Rafayel Qi,” you say, laughing despite yourself. “You’re jealous of your own child?”

“He doesn’t even appreciate it,” Rafayel huffs dramatically. “He’s just... drinking. No compliments. No praise. No loving gaze. No eye contact.” He places a hand over his heart. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

“You want to flirt with my boobs while I’m nursing?”

He nods solemnly. “And after.”

You blink. “Raf.”

“No, no, go ahead. Ignore me. That’s fine.” He gestures grandly, flopping back on the couch like a neglected kid in a drama.

“I mean, I get it,” Rafayel huffs, gesturing vaguely toward the baby now blissfully passed out at the bassinet. “He needs it. It’s nourishment. Bonding. Blah blah. But like, what about me? A stranger in my own marriage.”

You roll your eyes. “Then ask.”

He freezes. Turns to you slowly.

“…Seriously?”

You nod. “If you’re that curious, then fine. Go ahead.”

Wasting no moment, he immediately latches onto you, and his reaction is instant. His eyes roll back. A full-body shudder.

He suckles on your nipple with the eagerness of a thirsty man who had just found water after days of being dehydrated. When a bit of milk manages to escape from the side? He immediately laps it up, wasting no drop.

He pulls back, breathless. Dazed. “...Fuck."

Then he smirks.

“Alright. New plan. Let’s have six more kids.”

You shove him off the couch.

🐦‍⬛ SYLUS:

Everyone in the N109 Zone knows that Sylus doesn’t kneel.

He doesn’t plead.

He doesn’t repeat himself.

He doesn’t need to.

He gives orders, and people obey. His name alone strikes fear into civilians and corrupt officials alike. He's the kind of man who takes what he wants, and everyone bends at his will.

But you?

You’re the one thing he never commands.

Because with you, he never wants to.

And right now? He’s at your feet.

Literally.

It starts when you’re in the privacy of your home, in a soft robe, curled on the couch with your baby fast asleep in the bassinet. You’re drowsy and glowing, eyes heavy from the feeding, your robe slipping just slightly to reveal a glistening patch where you’ve started to leak again.

Sylus was reading some documents, possibly just about a new batch of weapons shipped to one of his armories. All that boring stuff. When he looks at you, his eyes immediately zero to your chest.

He freezes.

The documents clattered to the ground.

You glance at him, confused. “Sylus?”

But he’s already closing the space between you. You see it, the desire in his eyes as he kneels before you, palms on your thighs, breath hot and uneven.

“Please.”

His voice is hoarse. Ragged. Barely a whisper.

You blink. “Huh?”

“I need to taste you, sweetie.” He says it like it physically hurts to admit, jaw clenched.

“Can I try? Please?”

Your breath hitches. “Sylus—”

“I never beg,” he murmurs, leaning forward, brushing his lips against the skin of your breast. “But I’ll get on my knees for this. For you.”

He doesn’t ask again.

Just lowers his mouth to your breast and licks. The moment the white liquid hits his tongue, everything changes.

His lips part in stunned disbelief. Then, he groans, deep and guttural, like you just unlocked something feral in him.

“You taste sweet,” he rasps. He’s already latching on you again, open-mouthed, greedy.

“Fuck. You taste better than anything.”

You gasp, clutching at his shoulders as he begins to devour you. There’s nothing classy about the way he sucks at you–it’s messy, hungry, possessive. Like he’s waited his whole life for this and didn’t even know it.

You try to say something, to make a joke; “You’re worse than the baby.”

But Sylus growls into your skin, low and dark: “I’ll give you another one. I’ll fill you up again, if that’s what it takes to keep you like this.”

Your breath stutters. “Sylus—”

“No one else gets this. No one else gets to taste you like this.” He presses his palm to your womb. “You hear me? Only me.”

And you believe him. Because when Sylus Qin finds something he likes?

He gets it.

🍎 CALEB:

It starts with the panties.

Caleb thinks he’s subtle about it. Volunteering to do your laundry in the pretense that he 'just wants to help', setting aside a pair that smells like you, worn, soft, intimate. The design doesn't matter too, the one with lace? Spectacular. The cotton ones he bought with the apple patterns? Give him 14 of them right now. He tells himself it’s harmless, just something to keep close when you're gone on long shifts or too tired to stay up with him after work from the Hunter's Association.

When you've caught him in the act, all he does is raise an eyebrow, as if you're the one being strange.

“What?” he says, with that deadpan tone of his, nose still pressed into the fabric. “You smell nice.”

You should be flustered, but you’ve been married to this man long enough to know how weirdly intense he can be. It's part of the Caleb experience. When you tried scolding him because some of your pairs have gone missing, all he does is shoot you his signature puppy-eyed look.

But then after giving birth to your baby, everything changes. Your underwear drawer's surprisingly complete, and none of the pairs have gone missing. You'd think that maybe Caleb had just become too busy tending to the baby to even focus on his needs.

But what you don't notice is how his touches linger longer during nighttime cuddles, especially around your chest, or the way he glances at your shirt when it dampens just a little.

It happens when you’re fresh out of the shower. You're drying your hair, not noticing at first that the front of your shirt is damp. A few minutes later, you glance down and–

Oh.

You’re leaking.

“Caleb?" you call out, not thinking much of it, “I think I’m lactating again. I forgot to pump.”

You don’t expect a reaction. You expect him to say something like, ‘Want me to grab the pump?’

What you don’t expect is for Caleb to freeze in the doorway, eyes locked on the wet patch spreading across the fabric.

“...Again?” he says quietly.

You blink at him. “Yeah? That’s usually how it works.”

His eyes narrow, his jaw clenches, and before you can respond, he’s across the room, pushing your shirt up to your chest with eagerness, hunger glinting in those beautiful purple eyes.

“Let me taste.”

Your brain short circuits. “Wha–Caleb–?”

But he’s already there, lips closing around your nipple, hand firmly planted at your waist like he owns you.

And when he moans? You swear it’s the dirtiest sound he’s ever made.

He drinks like he’s been deprived. Like this was what he needed all along, and nothing else compares. Not the panties. Not your bath soap. Not even the taste of your skin.

No–this. This is divine. This is yours.

Later, when you're sprawled on the bed, dazed and breathless, he kisses your stomach and murmurs softly:

"Maybe we should have another baby. Just so you don't run out."

You laugh. “You're a freak.”

“I’m serious.”

He looks up at you, utterly sincere, eyes dark with something that’s not quite lust–it’s obsession, devotion, need.

And you know then: he’s addicted.

Not just to you.

But to every part of you.

☃️ ZAYNE:

You already knew Zayne had a problem with sweets.

The bakery receipts stuffed in his lab coat. The way he always “accidentally” wanders into the dessert section at the grocery store. The time he got bribed by Dr. Greyson with macarons.

But this?

You hadn’t seen coming.

It starts innocently enough; he’s helping you undress after a long day, brushing his fingers along the curve of your side as he unclasps your bra. You’re a few weeks postpartum, still sore and soft in all the ways he loves. He’s kneeling in front of you, peppering lazy kisses along your stomach when he notices the damp spot on your breast.

"Hmm?" He hums, brows furrowing. He leans in closer.

"You're leaking."

You sigh. “Yeah. I forgot to pump again. I’ll go get–”

“No,” Zayne cuts in, already cupping your breast in his hand. “Let me.”

“Zayne–!”

But he’s already latched on before you can finish, mouth closing around you like it’s second nature.

The first taste hits him like a drug.

His eyes widen.

Then flutter shut.

He moans. Actually moans. Like he just took a bite out of the best dessert of his life.

“Dearest,” he breathes when he finally pulls back, his lips still wet. “Why didn’t you tell me it tastes like this?”

You blink, a little dazed. “Like… what?”

He licks his lips. “Sweet. Warm...”

Then his gaze flicks up, dark and hungry. “Better than any dessert I've ever tasted.”

Your face flushes. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” he says, already nudging you backward onto the bed, crawling over you with sinful intent. “But you married me.”

And just like that, he’s latched on again, slow, thorough, absolutely obsessed. Like he’s savoring every drop. Like you’re his final meal, and he’s a man who’s starved.

When he finally pulls away, lips wet and pupils blown wide, he looks like he’s come undone.

Then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, he mutters:

“…I think I need to adjust my meal plan.”

You raise a brow. “You’re joking.”

He shakes his head, dead serious. “You’re my new dessert. Effective immediately.”

⭐ XAVIER:

It’s still dark out when Xavier stirs beside you.

He wakes like he always does. Quiet, warm, arms automatically reaching for your sleeping form. He pulls you close, breath brushing on your neck, his hand splaying across your waist under the covers.

That’s when he notices it.

A damp spot on your shirt. Right over your chest. You’re on your side, curled towards him, unaware.

He blinks once. Then twice. Brain still foggy from sleep.

But then he leans closer, nose brushing against the fabric, breathing in the scent that’s distinctly you. Warm and milky. Sweet.

Something stirs in him. Not lust, something gentler. Deeper.

An ache in his chest he can’t explain. Like he wants to be closer, somehow. Like he needs to feel it. Taste it.

He shifts beneath the blankets, carefully nudging the neckline of your shirt down. He presses a kiss just above your nipple, reverent, before wrapping his lips softly around it.

You stir, eyelids fluttering. “...Xavi?” you murmur, voice gravelly with sleep.

“Mm,” he hums against your skin, mouth still lazily suckling. “Just helping.”

You blink blearily at him. “That’s… not how the pump works.”

“Don’t care,” he whispers. “Tastes better this way.”

You huff a soft laugh, too tired to scold him, too warm to care. “You’re unbelievable.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark hair tousled, eyes still heavy lidded.

“It’s comforting,” he says simply, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You’re comforting.”

And with that, he tucks himself back into your arms, head resting on your chest, one hand lazily cupping your breast. You feel the occasional soft suckle as he drifts off again, slow and rhythmic, like a baby himself.

You close your eyes.

The room is quiet. The baby’s still asleep. And for now... just for now, there’s no need to move.

You both fall back into sleep, tangled together, Warm, safe, and full.

—

[MASTERLIST]

7K notes · View notes

leclerc-hs · 3 months ago

Text

romantic chocolates? - mv1

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader summary: in which you don't read the label on the chocolates OR you and max accidentally eat aphrodisiac chocolates and get too horny on vacation. warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT. all smut. degradation, spitting, fingering, dirty talk, filthy filthy, slight breeding kink, mean!max, edging, language...NOT PROOFREAD (might be some typos or things that don't make sense lol), cute ending word count: ~3.9k author's note: SURPRISE!!!! ITS A DAY EARLY ;) this is a continuation to an anon request!!! i wrote a cl16 AND ln4 version of this. UP NEXT: OP81

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You should’ve read the label before eating them.

Some little box tucked in the corner of the welcome basket, tucked beneath bottles of wine and a note from one of Max’s sponsors. You didn’t think about it twice. Why would you?

Just ripped it open with sun-warm fingers and let a piece melt on your tongue. Then fed Max some. Let his lips wrap around your fingers. Slow, tongue brushing against your knuckle. Eyes locked on you.

Humming at how good it was.

You laughed. And neither of you thought twice about it.

You were both stretched out on the daybed, high up in the cliffs, where no one could see you but the ocean. Linen cushions under you, a light breeze, and the ocean humming.

Your body is still damp from the pool. Bikini clinging to your skin tightly. And Max is lying next to you in nothing but a dark pair of swim trunks. Waistband pushed dangerously low on his hips. One leg bent. One arm behind his head. Comfy. Happy.

The way he always is when its just the two of you.

You’d been talking about something. Nothing important. Just a lazy conversation that happens between the stretches of silence.

He’s half-laughing, fingers ghosting down your arm every once in a while.

About thirty minutes go by, and something in you shifts.

It’s not all at once. Slow. A subtle ache in your belly. Your bikini bottoms sticky. A wetness you hadn’t noticed before. Thighs clenching automatically.

Max lets out a breath next to you. Like something in him changed too.

You don’t look over right away. Because the ache doesn’t stop.

It spreads like a fucking wildfire.

Low and deep and pulsing between your legs. As if your body decided to speed past the arousal and straight into desperation.

You try to cross your legs, needing some sort of pressure. But it doesn’t even help in the slightest bit. If anything, it makes it worse.

Then you heard him.

A quiet, “Fuck.”

You turn your head.

He was still laying on his back. But no longer relaxed. In fact he was ramrod straight. Jaw tight. Eyes shut. A hand still behind his head, but the other now fisting the edge of the cushion.

Swim trunks tight over his hips.

And lower….

You swallowed hard.

He turns to look at you, slowly opening his eyes.

“What the fuck was in that chocolate?” He asks, voice rough. Low.

You blink. “I don’t…Uh,…I didn’t read the…”

His gaze drops to your legs. The way your thighs were pressed together like you could stop it. Like you weren’t fucking dripping.

You try to play it cool. Try to make it seem like your cunt isn’t clenching on nothing. Again and again. Begging to be filled.

He feels his cock twitch at the sight of it. Your thighs pressed together like some common whore.

“You’re squirming.”

You breathe in. Swallow.

“I’m just…I’m just hot.”

He hums. But it’s not kind.

And he watches the little shift in your breathing. The twitch of your muscles.

His cock twitches in his swim suit.

And he smirks.

“Just a bit of chocolate and what?” He laughs. “Now you’re lying here thighs pressed together like a fucking slut.”

You flinch. Eyes widening. And he grins even bigger.

“This what gets you wet now?” His voice teasing. “Candy?”

“Max…”

“No. Go on. Tell me.” His eyes trail down your chest, landing on your hips. “Is your pussy this wet because of the candy? Or is it because you let me suck it off your fingers like a good little whore.”

You suck in a sharp breath. Hips jerking.

He laughs. Mean.

“Oh, you liked that, yeah?”

You nod. Whimpering.

He moves closer. Fingers reaching for your skin, pulling your legs apart just a little bit, trailing up your thigh, stopping right near your core.

“Bet if I pulled your bottoms to the side, you’d be fucking leaking onto the daybed.”

And its not a question. It’s a statement.

He’s on his side now. Watching you, propped on his elbow, cock visibly straining against the thin fabric.

“Poor, liefje.” He coos. Mockingly. “Trying so hard to act normal. Bet your pussy’s fucking pulsing.”

You moan, barely. Head falling back. Chest rising.

“Go on, pretty. Rub your thighs together all you want. Let that needy little cunt grind against nothing. See if that makes you feel any better.”

“You’re being mean.”

His smile twists. Darker. Meaner.

“You should’ve read the fucking label.”

You don’t speak. You can’t.

“I trusted you, you know?” He mutters. “Handed me that chocolate like it was a fucking game.”

His jaw clenches.

“And now I’m sitting here with my cock fuckin’ aching…and you’re…” He glances at your thighs again for a quick second. “Dripping on the cushions like a fucking whore.”

He shifts, kneeling beside you now. “And the worst part?” He leans toward you. Noses almost touching. “It’s your fault.”

His fingers still rest on your thigh. Squeezing it. Trailing to the fabric of your bikini with two fingers, dragging it. Slow.

Until you’re exposed.

“Oh, fuck me.” He groans. “You’re soaked. Fuckin’ soaked, schatje.”

And he laughs. It’s almost cruel.

“Dripping. All from what? A piece of chocolate and some dirty talk?”

You whimper, hips twitching as the cool air breezes against your hot core.

“You look like you’d let me fuck you right here.”

And you whimper. Pushing your head deeper against the cushion behind you. Sunglasses pushed up on your head.

“Not even trying to hide it, huh?” He spits. “Too fucking dumb from being so horny, yeah? Can’t even keep your hips still.”

You nod. A lot. Fast. It’s almost pathetic.

“You gonna admit it?”

You blink at him. “Admit what?”

“That you’re clenching around nothing. Aching for my fingers. For my cock.”

He leans in closer.

“Say it.” He demands. “Or I won’t touch you.”

Your voice quivers, “Max, please…I’m so wet.”

He raises a brow, smirk growing. “Sorry…what was that?”

You feel your cheeks redden. “I’m wet,” your voice is louder. “Fuck. Max…I’m fucking aching for you.” You sound frustrated. Annoyed almost.

And his smile is wicked. “There’s my liefje.”

“I should make you fuckin’ beg. Keep you like this for hours…because this…” He slips two fingers between your folds. “Is what I have to deal with.”

You jolt from his touch. Whimpering.

“Sensitive already, hm?” He grunts. “Fuck, I could probably make you cum just by spitting on you. Needy little cunt.”

And you try to close your legs. Clench them.

But he grips your thighs and forces them to stay open. Rough.

“Keep them open, schatje.”

His voice is so mean, but it only makes you ache more. “I’m so fucking hard that it’s making me fucking sweat. Can feel my cock leaking.”

Your breath hitches as he sinks his fingers into you.

“You know,” he says, like its a normal conversation. Like his fingers aren’t curling in your cunt. “We’re supposed to be relaxing.”

And his one arm gestures to the view. The pool. The cute villa. The ocean.

“Summer break. No work. No races.” His fingers curl just a bit more. And your mouth falls slack. “Was supposed to be quiet. Easy. Nap in the sun, maybe fuck you slow after dinner.”

He clicks his tongue, eyes dragging over you. The way your tits rise. The way your thighs are twitching. You’re a mess. And he looks fucking furious about it.

“And instead I’ve got this.” And pushes in another finger just to prove a point. It has you jolting.

“Squirming on this cushion like a needy little bitch who can’t sit still.” He huffs. “Legs twitching and pussy leaking in the middle of the day.”

You whimper. Lip quivering.

“My dick’s been leaking since you moaned the first time.”

And you whimper. Quietly. But he hears it. His jaw clenches.

“Max…”

“No. Don’t ‘Max’ me.” He cuts you off. “You did this.”

He leans in closer. Fingers moving with a more hurried pace.

“You fed me that chocolate.” His voice drops. “Now I’ve got my cock pulsing in my suit, you’re cunt’s crying for me, and you expect me to be fucking calm?”

His voice is shaking. Fingers twitching.

Your walls squeeze against his fingers. And he hisses in a sharp breath of air.

“Have to spend my afternoon with a fuckin’ brat whining for my cock.” He places a soft bite on your shoulder. “Like shoving my cock in you is the only thing that will help your poor cunt calm down.”

He can feel your cunt squeezing him. See the rapid rise and fall of your chest. Your cheeks redden. All the tell tale signs.

And he pulls his fingers away. And you cry out from the loss of his touch.

“You don’t get to come yet.” His voice is fucking flat. “Not until I say so. Not until you earn it.”

He presses his fingers back to your cunt, slow. Teasing. “Should rub this needy cunt for hours. Edge you over and over until you’re sobbing for it.”

You let out a small sob, hips grinding against his finger tips.

And he pulls his fingers away almost instantly.

“No.” He grunts.

Presses his soaked fingers to your lips. “Open.”

And you do.

He groans as you suck his fingers. His hips twitching just slightly. Eyes not leaving from his fingers in your mouth.

“That’s it, pretty.”

He palms himself with his other hand, groaning. His eyes darkening. Almost feral looking.

He leans toward your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you.”

Presses a soft kiss to the nape of your neck.

Lips hovering over you ear. Soft.

“Now say thank you.”

Your narrow your eyes. Fucked out of your mind. Glaring at him.

“Let me hear it. You’re gonna lie here like a good girl, and thank me for taking care of your soaking needy pussy while I’m leaking into my fucking suit."

“Th…thank you, Max.” You whimper. “For taking care of my needy pussy while you’re supposed to be relaxing.” You manage to get out. Sarcastically. Frustrated.

And his cock twitches.

He leans over you now, on his knees, jaw tight. Slipping his hand back down between your thighs. Dragging his fingers between your folds again. Not pushing in. Like he’s testing you.

“Ohhh, liefje.” He clicks his tongue. “you’re lucky I haven’t fucked the attitude out of you yet.”

The air is hot against your skin.

“Messy little thing,” He grunts. Watching his fingers move. Pressing the pads of his fingers against you. Still not pushing in.

Your hips twitch.

“You want it?” He tilts his head. “Want my fingers inside?”

You nod. Begging. Eyes pleading.

And he laughs. But it sounds like he’s struggling. Like he’s using every ounce of control to not push his suit down and fuck you into the cushion.

“My cock’s fucking throbbing, schatje. Feels so heavy.” He mutters. “You have no idea how bad I want to be inside you.”

And he pushes two fingers in. You moan. Back arching. Loud.

And he’s locked the fuck in.

Watching your pussy clench around him. Groaning.

“Fuckin’ squeezing me.”

He moves them, slow. Dragging.

“Y’hear that?” He grunts. “Pussy’s fucking crying for me.”

And you’re gripping the cushion. Gasping. The heat in your stomach building fast.

And he leans over you. Mouth at your ear again. One hand putting his weight onto your thigh.

“Don’t you fucking come.”

Your hips move. You’re so close. Right there.

He drags his thumb to your clit. Circles it a few times. Slow. Fucking brutal.

“You wanna?” He huffs. “Wanna come on my fingers? Soak me like a fucking slut?”

You’re panting. “Please….Max…”

“I know.” He slows his fingers. “I know you need it.”

And he speeds his fingers up. Pushing in and out of you deeper. Curling his fingers.

And right as your body seizes up. Your orgasm about to rip through you.

He pulls his fucking hand away.

And you scream.

Twitching. Clit pulsing.

“Fuckin’ hell…Look what you’re doing to me.” He palms his cock, the fabric stained with a wet spot. And he’s so hard.

His head is cocked. Eyes blown. Fingers covered in your slick.

He grabs your bikini top. Fisting the fabric and shoves it up. Nipples so hard from how worked up you’re feeling. And they bounce free.

He groans.

He palms himself again. Once.

Then reaches greedily, pinches your nipples between two fingers. And you whimper.

“So fucking pretty…look at you…” He whispers, before leaning down and bites.

Not a hard bite. Just enough to make your back arch when his mouth closes around your nipple. Sucking. Tongue swirling. Teeth grazing.

And his other hand returns to your folds. Pushing into your cunt with two fingers. Deep.

He sucks harder on your nipple, groaning against you.

Curling his fingers just right.

And you’re squirming.

“You like this, huh?” He hisses. “Like when I shove your top up and suck your tits like they’re mine?”

“Ye…yeah,” You are gasping.

He groans, pressing kisses to your breasts. “You sound fucking wrecked.”

And he looks kind of calm. His brows are focused like he’s studying. Smirking. Licking his lips.

“Y’gonna come already?”

You nod. And he slows down his movements instantly.

“You think you deserve it?” He pulls his fingers out, slow. Holding them up. “Look at this fuckin mess.”

His fingers are glistening. Covered in you.

He brings them to his mouth. Sucks them fuckin’ clean. Moaning at the taste.

“Fuck, schatje.” He pulls his fingers out with a ‘pop’. “Tastes so good.”

Max moves lower onto the day bed, almost laying down on the day bed.

And then his fingers are back. Pressing into you so filthy that you’re arching. Shoving them deep. Hard. Still slow.

“You wanna come?” He picks up the pace. “Say it.”

You gasp. “Max…please.”

“Not good enough.” And he’s pressing his thumb to your clit. Rough. “Tell me what you want.”

You’re grinding into his hand. Begging for more. Aching.

“I…plea…Max. I need….” You’re breathless. His fingers not giving up. Curling inside of you. “I need to..”

And he laughs.

“Need?” He repeats. “No. You fucking want it. You want to come all over my fingers like a pathetic whore, yeah?”

And the heat in your stomach hurts.

And he leans in. Breath on your cheek. “Don’t.”

Your body jerks against his, about to come.

He pulls his fingers out again.

And you fucking scream.

“Y’gonna come if I put my mouth on you?”

And your breath hitches at the bare thought of it. Eyes glassy. A whimper pushing past your lips.

“Too fucking bad.”

But then he drops between your thighs. And licks.

One heavy drag of his tongue against you. And you careen forward with a sharp cry before falling back down to the cushion.

He groans against you. Hands digging into the skin of your thighs as he opens you wider. As he buries his face into your cunt. Tongue lapping you greedily.

And Max?

He’s grinding himself against the cushion of the day bed. Rutting himself against the bed. Cock dripping against the fabric.

And he’s fucking panting.

“Fuck, baby… fuck. Fuck. I can’t…” His hips are jerking into the cushion. Rutting into it. Desperately. Messy.

Nose nudging your clit. Burying his face into you like he’s feasting.

His hips jerk harder against the cushion, and then he’s fucking coming. His body shuttering as he watches you suck his fingers win.

“Fucking fuck…” His voice is wrecked. “Go on. Come for me…you deserve it. Fuck.”

His thumb drags against your clit again. And your back arches. Thighs clamping around him.

“Oh fuck..fuck…Max.”

“Yeah,” he’s groaning. “That’s it.”

His mouth sucks over your clit. Hard.

And you crash. Pussy clamping down against his fingers. Pulsing. And body trembling.

But he doesn’t give you any time to recover.

He’s breathing hard and his cock is still hard in his soaked suit.

He grabs your hips. Voice cracked. “Get on top of me.”

And you blink. Dazed. “What?”

But he’s already pulling you against him as he sits down. Dragging you over him.

“I need to be inside you,” voice dark.

And when he see’s you hesitate, not because you don’t want to, but because your head is spinning. His voice comes out harsh. “Now, schatje.”

You snap back. Don’t hesitate.

“You’re gonna ride me…pull my fucking cock out and sit on me.”

Your fingers push the waistband of his swimsuit lower…and fucking christ. His cock smacks his stomach. Flushed. Red. Leaking.

You wrap your hand around it, and he groans. Head tilted back.

And you sink down on him. Slowly. Trying to take him inch by inch. Tease him a little.

And it isn’t until he’s fully bottomed out in you that he lets out a laugh.

And you feel everything.

You rock your hips only once and Max fucking loses it.

Snaps.

Hands digging into your hips as his rises off the cushions, just a little bit. His grip is bruising.

“Move.” He spits. “Ride me. I don’t fucking care how…just do it.” He’s demanding. Mean. Feral.

And you start to move. Circling your hips. As you pant. Head leaning against his shoulder.

“Fuck…fuckin’ look at you,” He huffs.

You moan. Too loud.

“Shut the fuck up.”

And he slaps your butt. Hard. The sound echoing.

He slams up into you, and you cry out. Eyes rolling.

“Pathetic,” he grunts. “Feel how deep I am, huh? Like my personal fuck toy.”

Your thighs are shaking. Clit dragging against his pelvis as you start bouncing on him.

It’s messy and soooo desperate.

And Max just laughs at you. His neck flushed red.

“I can’t…fuck. I can’t hold…” He bucks up into you. “Too fucking tight, so wet…ride me harder. Please, baby.”

And you do.

You fuck yourself on him harder. Faster. Slamming down on his cock with every single bounce. And you can barely breathe.

You’re babbling. Moaning. Panting. Cursing his name into his shoulder.

“Come with me,” He begs. “Fuckin’ come with me, baby…please…C’mon..”

And you break.

You snap around him. Orgasm ripping through you. Clamping down on his cock so hard that Max shouts. And he spills inside of you.

And its so much.

Hot, sticky spurts pushing deep as he jerks his hips. Your name falling out of his mouth with pleas.

You collapse on to his chest. Trembling.

And Max?

He’s still inside you.

Doesn’t soften. Not even the slightest amount.

Somehow still fucking hard.

And your legs are shaking as he flips you over. Hands gripping your hips like he’s about to destroy you.

You barely manage a breath before he’s shoving your knees into your chest, folding you. One hand pressing into the back of your thigh, holding them there. Your soaked cunt spilling his come down onto the cushion beneath you.

The other wraps around your throat. Pressing.

And he looks like he wants to eat you the fuck alive.

Controlling.

His cock twitches as he presses it back to your entrance. Slamming into you.

And you sob. Back arching. So full and wet.

“Still so tight.” His fingers squeeze your throat just a little bit harder.

And your mouth falls open with a loud moan.

And he spits right into it. Hitting your tongue, dribbling down your lip. And you don’t even have to think about it…you swallow. Lick your lips for more.

And Max moans as if he just came again.

“My god, you’re fucking mine.”

And he fucks into you harder. Relentless. Like he needs to chase this feeling.

“Fuckin’ look at this mess. Hear how wet you are?” Your hands fist the sheets.

“You’re so loud baby. It’s disgusting. This isn’t how a good girl fucks.”

And he slaps your thigh.

You’re panting. Gasping against the grip of his hand. And he feels every breath through his hand.

He leans in close. Voice fucking filthy.

“This is how you wanted it, huh?” Wanted to get me all fucked up.”

He’s cruel. Pounding into you with such urgency as you nod. Lips still parted.

He rubs the pad of his thumb against your jaw. “My filthy fuckin’ slut. Letting me choke you. Spit on you. Pounding you like I’m trying to fuck a baby into you.”

And your walls clench down on him. Hard.

And he snarls. “Ohhh, you like that?” He tilts his head a little. “Want me to fill you up? Stuff you so full. Get you swollen with my baby.”

And you’re twitching now. Moaning. Head tilted back deep into the cushions.

And his hand leaves your throat. Only for a second. Only to slap your cheek. Once. It’s light, but its enough to make your eyes snap back open.

“Eyes on me, schatje.”

You’re dazed. Cheeks flushed red.

“C’mon give it to me.” Max urges you.

And you instantly do.

Your orgasm ripping through you again. Spasming around him. Squeezing him so tight that Max loses it.

He slams in three times. Then groans like he’s been punched. Spilling into you.

You’re leaking. Can barely breathe. And he’s panting above you. Shoulders shaking.

And then he brushes your jaw again. Leaning forward and kisses you.

Soft.

So soft. You whimper against his lips.

And he kisses you slow. Messy. Breathing in your whimpers.

And then he’s kissing you deeper. Like he’s hungry.

Slipping a hand into your hair, the other still at your jaw. His tongue licks into you. And you sigh into him. Melting.

He groans into you.

“Can’t believe how fucking good you feel.” He mutters. “Unreal, baby.”

You whimper. Too sensitive. And he kisses you again. Quick. Soft.

“You okay?” He brushes his noses against you. Kissing the corner of your mouth. Then your cheek. Jaw. And then under your ear.

You nod. Slowly.

“Good,” He grins. “Because I’m not pulling out yet.”

Then he quiets. Smiles. A real smile. Like something has settled in his bones.

His fingers trace your cheek. Caring.

“You’re gonna marry me.”

You gasp. But you’re not surprised

He kisses your cheek. The crinkled skin by your eyes. Your forehead. Still inside you. Holding you tight.

“You’re gonna wear my ring,” he mutters. “Take my name. And be my fucking wife.”

Your hear pounds in your chest.

“Would you want that?” His voice is low. Hushed against your lips. “Want to belong to me? Forever?”

You nod. A small whimper. “Yes.”

“Say it.” Its a little demanding. But then his eyes soften. “Please?”

“I want to be yours…” Your voice is soft. “Forever, Max.”

He groans, pushing himself in closer to you. His full weight pressing against you now.

“You are.” He pecks your lips. “Every fuckin’ inch of you. It’s all mine.”

He flexes his hips just once. Just enough to make you gasp.

“My wife.”

And he means it.

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madamechrissy · 6 months ago

Text

Would you come with me?

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x F! reader

Summary: You have been Satoru's best friend for such a long time, and one day he asks you a really big favor- marry him. What!?!? Well, Satoru has to take a wife as he's running the Gojo corporation, and what better way to get them off his back than 'marry'? In name only, just best friends living together for a year to calm them down, sounds so perfect and uncomplicated, right!!! Well, living with Satoru Gojo makes you both question everything, is this fake marriage feeling... real? and can you just be friends after this?

CW: NSFT-MDNI- So much mutual pining and longing, not sharing feelings. This chap- kissing, fingering, masturbation, lots of jealousyy, they're idiots in love lol, teasing, TENSION, oral (f recieving) Satoru is a lil sweetie and a lil freaky ass- falls hard, ya'll both down bad. Three parts- WC this Part- 7.6k

Songs for this - Birds of a Feather // Nonsense // Suffocate

Ty for all the love on part one!?!? I hope you all enjoy this part as well! We got one more after this <3 Comments and reblogs so appreciated always!

<<<Part One - Masterlist - Final Part>>>

Part Two

One month of being ‘fake married’ to Satoru Gojo, your best friend.

“I’m nervous about this meeting, Satoru. Are you sure I’ll do alright?” You ask softly, as you both head to the elevator, a meeting that you know Satoru has been dreading himself, with the higher ups his dad usually deals with.

“You’ll do just fine, let me do the talking, you can just look all pretty.” He takes your hand as you all get into the elevator, squeezing it warmly, and you’re dying at how good that hand feels, and how good he feels, his strong arm brushing against you as you both watch the elevator doors shut.

“I don’t want to embarrass you.”

“You could never. You’ve been a perfect wife this month, I promise.” His sweet grin, just a little crooked melts you, as you exhale in relief. “I’m getting a lot done with this, I swear… I know you probably wanna get back to normal life.”

The hurt in his words immediately makes you pull back, and Satoru curses himself, taking your hand again, as you two ride up the floors, but you pull away, shaking your head. “Are you so eager for me to go?” Your voice is quiet, trying not to reveal what that makes you feel like fully.

“What!? No, not at all. I meant… if you wanted to.” Satoru’s heart breaks when he sees your dewy eyes. “I didn’t mean it that way, I meant it may not take a year, if you wanted to…”

“I’m glad it’s helping, really.” You give him a small little smile, and Satoru can barely concentrate on what he’s here for, when he wants to wrap you in his arms, to kiss you fully, not just pecks for appearances.

And god those kisses to prove you’re together make the lines blur, makes everything so confusing and jumbled for him. He’s having so much trouble remembering that it’s for show, when you all watch movies at night still, when you both have dinner together, when you’re washing dishes side by side. When you’re having coffee on his balcony in the morning.

The one thing that keeps it ‘fake’ is the separate rooms, but the amount of times Satoru has played with himself in the room next to yours has gotten insane, the number of showers he has to take so he hopes you won’t hear him. Lately, he’s backed off just a bit, for his own sanity, so it hurts less when this is over.

“Toru, wanna watch the show tonight?” You ask, wearing one of his big tee shirts, it swamps you completely, tempting him to no end, thinking of slipping it up just so…

Shit.

“Nah, sorry not tonight. I’ve got work to do.” He says, hating the little down turn of your lips.

“How late, I can wait!”

“Um… yeah I wouldn’t wait up.” You blink then, wondering have you gotten too comfortable with him? Have you been acting too much like a wife at home? You can’t help but enjoy him, enjoy your time together, are you overwhelming him with it all?

“Oh. Um, okay. Good night, then.” You smile sadly, aching to kiss him good night, knowing you shouldn’t want it, knowing you shouldn’t be desiring him right next to you, snuggling on that couch. God you’d love him in your bed even, holding you so close against him.

“Good night, sweets.” He murmurs, softly, not wanting you to think that you were the problem, no the problem is him.

He can’t stop picturing how every corner and nook in his huge home will be so very empty when you’re gone.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, not one thing, I swear you’re playing this perfectly. And I really appreciate you, yeah?” He says, but it’s not what you want to hear, because you’re not playing, not really, it’s just too fucking easy.

“Yeah, we got this.” You kiss his cheek softly, the friendly way you used to, as you all walk through the sliding doors where everyone is, all old men aside from a couple younger people scattered in seats in a row.

You tense, so he squeezes your hand, smiling at you, an upturn to pink lips as a room full of old money assesses you both, trying to reassure you. “Mr. and Mrs. Gojo, please have a seat.”

You nervously sit next to Satoru across from them now, your legs crossing as he casually leans back, one arm around the back of your seat, an ankle crossed over his knee, sunglasses right on his face. He’s so at ease, or so it seems, you are certainly learning more and more that Satoru tends to hide much of his anxiety with cracking jokes and sarcasm.

“Ah, the oldies, how goes it?”

“Ahem, oldies?” A blonde man raises a brow, and Satoru scoffs.

“You might as well be, Zenin. Old ass mentality.”

“Satoru, how is your father?” Asks an older man from another high company that works with the Gojos, Mr. Gakuganji.

“Ya really hoping he pulls through hmm? Even if so, he’s already appointed me, so don’t get too excited.” Satoru has an easy grin, fingertips brushing against your bare arm, leaning closer to you. “You’ve all met the wife?”

“Not all of us.” A pretty woman with long blue braids smiles at you. “Heard of her though, hello Mrs. Gojo. Mei Mei. Apparently so old.”

“Hello Mei Mei.” You greet with a small smile, looking at them all. “It’s going to be a pleasure to work with you all, I am sure.”

“Isn’t she just charming?” Mr. Naoya Zenin says, you feel Gojo’s fingers tighten in response.

“She is lovely.” Mei agrees, predatory smiles on both of their lips.

“Enough with the greetings, Gojo, you've made a lot of changes to this company in a quick manner.” Now Yaga, a tall imposing man that owns much of the shares of the company, speaks.

“Sure have, Yaga. Aw, mad you all got pay cuts? Poor things. Don’t worry, gave your extra to the employees.” Gojo says with a big white grin, earning the glares of everyone in the room.

“You’re not some Robin Hood.” An older man of the Kamo family says, raising a brow at Gojo, who chuckles.

“No, sure am not, I’m still rich and so are you all, just a little more evened out, wouldn’t you say, sweetheart?” He looks to you, tilting down his glasses, and you take a breath, putting a hand on his thigh, silently supporting him.

“Employees are going to work harder and stay longer with better pay and better conditions, and cutting just a bit off the top accomplishes that.” You say, voice strong and clear as a bell, making Satoru so proud he can’t stand it, smiling big at you as the room collectively grumbles.

“You’re not the only one with interest in this company. What does your father think of this?” One of the older men asks.

“It’s my company already, it’s about to be official soon. So don’t worry.” Satoru says with ease. “Also, my wife was talking.”

“Your wife is certainly… hmm, very pretty, but a commoner.” Naoya says, earning Gojo standing up, chair screeching back.

“The fuck you say!?”

“Satoru…” You lean forward, touching his arm, looking at his furious stance as the room shifts.

“How is she a commoner? You’d be lucky to lick the ground she fucking walks on ya know that?”

“She’s clearly not a commoner, but… she’s not “rich" is what he means. She has no concept of wealth.” Mei says, and Naoya stands now as well, glaring right over at Satoru.

“She’s rich now, she’s my fucking wife.” The words feel so real from his infuriated voice that you can’t even separate it anymore, if this is some act you will just play right into it, even if it hurts. Him defending you is raw, you feel his fury next to him, trying to calm him and failing.

“It’s fine, baby.” You murmur, and hearing it, this little pet name from you? He immediately looks down, seeing your eyes wide with worry, he sighs now, sitting next to you, exhaling when you brush a hand up and down his back, then you look at the room. “I was not rich, no.”

“Your family was cut off for this sort of behavior. Is that what you want again, want for your children?” Mr. Gakuganji asks, a tired voice breaking through.

“I know better than anyone in this room what it’s like to live on a normal, even low income. Would you not welcome the insight, or are you so above caring about the people who line your pockets?” You demand softly, raising a brow, Satoru watches now as you proceed to wreck them.

He watches you debate them, raising each of them this point and that, and watches them all falter under a pretty little thing like you, usually soft spoken and sweet, but you have no problem decimating a room of them like it’s nothing. You smile so pretty at them all, bat your lashes and they land argument after argument, bouncing off what Gojo says.

Gojo is chuckling after about twenty minutes, as they seem to really think he couldn’t fuck them all if he felt like it. “What you’re forgetting, is I’m the highest up there is here.”

“Your father-”

“My father trusts me to take over. Plain and simple, are there going to be any problems? Millions not enough for you all, need golden toilets for your asses?” You barely hold in the snort of laughter, eyes bright as you watch him continue to disgruntle the room, until they finally let up.

Naoya walks up to you, eyeing you up and down as Satoru is talking to Yaga, who seems to be one of the more laid back of them all, his hands in his pockets, light brown eyes lit up. You tense at his gaze, feeling it like a slimy, disgusting touch, making you almost sick. You’re trembling as his eyes dissect you.

“Conveniently, he gets a bride the moment everyone pushes him.” He says with a nasty smirk, brushing a tendril of your hair back. “Don’t buy it.”

“Well, we’ve been in love forever, I assure you.” You say quietly, he hums to himself, when Mei walks over, and damn this woman just saunters, truly, hands on her curved hips.

“It’s so odd indeed, out of a list of so many eligible ladies. Was it true love, I wonder?” She taps her chin curiously, Satoru sees you then, coming by your side immediately, and arm around your waist.

Is he being a protective best friend or…

More.

Is this all just for show, as he pulls you to his side so possessively, making your pulse race, your body reacting as you look up at his face, and he’s scowling at the both of them. “Everything alright, sweets?”

“Yes, they were wishing us the best, weren’t you both?” You say, earning Naoya’s glare and Mei’s smirk.

“Indeed we were, we’ll see you at the auction I imagine?” Mei says, eyeing Satoru now.

“We’ll be there, of course. But for now, hmm…” He tilts your chin up, kissing you in a room full of people who want to hurt him, and hurt you, a protectiveness he’s always had for you becoming so intense it’s hard for him to function, he’d literally take down anyone and everyone that would dare say one thing to you even.

Your lips are sweet, so sweet, as you lean up and kiss him, wrapping an arm around his waist, and that same electricity sparks, even with all their seedy eyes on the two of you. He pulls back, looking at your lips, as you look into his eyes, already dilated and dark, when he clears his throat, smirking up at the shocked gazes.

“Are we all done here?” He asks, and then proceeds to take you out of that room, you finally catch a breath in the elevator, and Satoru grins at you, cupping your face with his big hands, bending down.

“Holy shit.” You murmur, earning his chuckle.

“You were amazing! How dumb am I telling you - look pretty and let me talk- shit I think it was the opposite?”

“No way…”

“Yes way. That was sexy.” He hums, you’re both giggling a bit, but you’re close, too close, and his thumb is brushing your lower lip, sending desire straight through to your tummy.

“I thought you were mad at me.” You whisper then, earning his smile turning down at the corners, his eyes a little distant and hazy.

“I could never be.”

The elevator doors open, the two of you walk out of the sliding glass doors of the enormous building, and you are trying not to touch the lips he just had, trying not to think of just how good they felt. The driver pulls up and you get into the car, Satoru slides in next to you, far too close, you inhale his cologne, you still taste him on your lips, like torture.

“I’m not mad at you.” He says again, you blink a bit, taking a breath, before looking up at him as the car drives onto the highway, gently moving underneath you both.

“You turned down movies for days. You won’t eat dinner with me. I get you’re busy, I really do, but I enjoy it, spending time. I’m… lonely without you? I know that sounds so silly, I’m sorry. Shit.” You cover your face, hating the pathetic words spilling from your lips. “You’re probably sick of all this time, even as a best friend.”

That’s not it.

God that’s not it.

It’s just when he’s next to you all he can think of is fucking you, or making you cum all over his mouth, his fingers. He can’t stand how good you smell, how good you feel, he melts over your pretty smiles and giggles, he can’t stand how deeply he is starting to feel. The three times you all have kissed for publicity it took everything in him not to drag you home.

How does he just shut it off, the ability to kiss you when he wants? And now you’re lonely, you’re hurting, not even able to look at him when he gently pulls down your hands by your wrists. “Look at me.” He murmurs softly.

You do then, and he sees it, tears swimming. “Sorry I’m too emotional.” You whisper then, embarrassed.

“No, I’m being an ass.”

You let out a little laugh. “No, Satoru just distant, and I didn’t know if I fucked something up, the day in your office?”

“No, no. Please, I swear it’s not that… I’ve been in my head.” He mutters, unable to express it truly.

“I get it, you have a lot going on. I want to be here for you.”

“You are.” He’s brushing your hair back softly, leaning down, resting his head against yours, it’s too intimate then, the words on the tip of your tongue, that you feel more than you should, but you try to swallow them. “You’re amazing, you made them all look so stupid.”

“No…”

“Yes. You surprised me, I never have seen you like that.”

“Sexy, you said hmm.” You tease, but he’s serious then, as your breaths mingle, and he’s leaning even closer, wreaking havoc on your every sense.

“God yes, you’re sexy like that.”

“Satoru… it’s too much.” You whisper, as his hand rests on your thigh, and he feels it, how hot you are, earning his eyes shutting, trying to not let it affect him and failing. “I haven’t… I’m really…”

“Been a while, sweetheart?”

“Oh fuck you.” You don’t move his hand when he slips it up higher, in fact your thighs spread just a bit, his little moan making more wetness start to drool from your aching pussy.

“I take up all your time, you can’t date, why not let me take care of you?” He acts as if he can handle anyone ever touching you, the thought alone makes him feral, want to fucking claim you as his own, to devour you senseless. He tries to be teasing, casual, watching your breath catch, your pupils dilate.

“Wh-what!?” Your lips part, and his desperate blue gaze is so intense it’s hard to look at.

“Let me make you cum, sweetheart, hmm? It’s the least I can do, I’m taking up all of you, I am sure it’s been a bit.” You gulp nervously. “You’re not a…”

“No, no, not a virgin Toru, just I didn’t like it.” You admit softly.

“At all?” He whispers, frowning just a bit, before he feels your inner thigh with his thumb, finding you hot and sticky, making you gasp. “Who sucked that bad?”

“You don’t know him. But I didn’t like getting…”

“Fingered?”

“That, not at all, um the times it happened were uncomfortable. So don’t try, it won't work.” Satoru laughs then softly, shaking his head.

“I’ve never had that problem. And I would never hurt you.” His words are serious then, you gulp nervously.

“I know you wouldn’t. But it’s intimate, and it’s not for show.” Your hand clutches his blazer now, thick material in your palm when he finally touches you over your panties, making you cry out at the contact, his cock throbs in response.

“Let me just take care of you, make you feel s’good, hmm? Don’t think too much about it, just feel.” He presses kisses down the side of your neck, your free hand wraps the back of his neck, brushing over his undercut, the soft hair under your fingers like silk, when he presses his fingers over your clothed clit. “You like that, pretty?”

“Y-yes.” You manage, his lips kiss and then suck at the base of your throat, when his finger slips under your panties, finding you bare, soaked, your cry is louder, when he finds your engorged little clit, feels you slippery against his long fingers.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” He huffs, free hand slipping up the side of your breast while he rolls his finger in little circles, and your hips jerk, your head falling back. “She’s begging f’me to put one in.”

“You c-can try, but- ah!” Satoru sinks a long finger in you, pressing up, and you’re blinded when he finds your spot so effortlessly, leaning back to look down at your face, as it scrunches up in pleasure. “Ngh!”

“There it is, some loser couldn’t find it hmm? I’ve got you, don’t worry.” He’s pressing up again and again, the spongy spot in your gummy walls, gripping him so fucking tight. You hear it, the lewd sound of your squishing cunt, your eyes rolling back in your skull as he works you. “Let go, trust me.”

“It’s too much I… T-Toru…” You whisper his name, while moaning, your mouth open in this perfect O, it makes him leak precum, sticking to his boxers as your thighs spread for him, as you trust him, your eyes lidded. “More.”

“More?” He repeats, speechless for a moment as you’re leaning forward, your lips just a breath away.

“Please, it’s s’good Toru.” Your little plea destroys the last fighting brain cell he has, he’s slipping one more in you, making you pulse around the thick invasion, curling them up and sinking them inside you, to the knuckle, while you moan against his lips. “F-fuck… oh my god what…”

“That’s it, fuckin’ feel her, grippin’ me.” He’s fucking his fingers into you, wishing they were his cock, and you’re soaking his hand, your cunt drooling when he shoves them in deep, thumb pression on your clit, making you shatter. “There you go, sweetheart, that’s it, s’pretty like this.”

You’re cumming all over your best friend/fake husband’s talented fingers, nearly crying at how good the release feels, pulsing all around him, hands clinging to his jacket, hopelessly wrinkling the material, all while he watches you. Your mind goes blank, pleasure is the only thing you can focus on, as he eases his strokes, and you both are panting in the quiet car.

Satoru eases his fingers out, putting them to his lips and sucking now, moaning when he tastes you, and your mouth drops in shock. “T-Toru…”

“Fuck.” He’s kissing you then, your slick all over his lips as he presses your back against the seat, and your thighs shake, sensitive from cumming so hard, you can barely focus on anything but your throbbing pussy.

“Please.” You whisper again, as he yanks his cock out, right in the back of the car, and you reach down, stroking it, his eyes shut as he whimpers, Satoru Gojo whimpers, over you touching his pretty pink tip, swirling that precum.

“Wanna taste you first.” He huffs, kissing down your throat when the car comes to a halt, yanking at your dress, pressing hungry kisses on your breasts.

“What are we… Toru what’re we d-doing, fuck!” You’re whining out when he’s biting at your nipple over your bra, your hands yank on his hair, hips arching, feeling his length on your inner thigh.

“M’gonna-”

“Mr. Gojo, we’re here.” His driver infuriates him now, Satoru leans up, breaths heavy as he’s leaned over you, looking at your already fucked out eyes.

“We almost… we… y-you…” You are stuttering, suddenly so nervous, so overwhelmed. “Is this just you helping me out? Is it-”

“Mr. Gojo-”

“Ijichi, I’ll fucking kill you.” He mutters angrily, quieting his driver quickly, as he adjusts himself and then you, and you’re sitting up, blushing as he fixes your panties, fingers covered still in your slick. He sucks them again further making your tummy flutter, tighten, your heart pounding out of your chest. “God you taste yummy, the fuck, how does someone taste this good.”

“You tasted me? Twice!?” He smirks now, easing you to sit, tilting up your chin now.

“Not fully.”

“Fully!? Is this what friends do?”

“Well I sure don’t want you doing this with anyone else.” He glares now, jaw locking, making you gasp.

“What now?”

“No one else can do that to you.” His lips gently kiss yours, you taste yourself on them again, but you shove at him now, glaring.

“What do you even mean, no one else? You think you have some freakish claim on me now?”

“I know you came so hard you soaked my fucking backseats, hmm?” He whispers, you roll your eyes now, eagerly getting out of the car.

“You’re insane, Satoru.”

“You clearly like it.” You scoff, body shaking, legs literally wobbly, you try to ignore them as you stride up to the front of Satoru’s fancy doors, and walk in quickly, as he follows you with long strides, calling your name.

“That was fingering as a friend!?”

“No… it was…” He wants to say it then, you’re literally his fucking wife, even if it’s pretend, he can’t think of anything he wants more than you, to be inside you.

“Almost fucked me as a friend? Satoru, I can't do that.”

“I know, I didn’t… I just…” You’re turning away, if you look into those blue eyes too long you won’t be able to breathe, to exist, every inch of your body dying for more. “You loved it.”

You scowl as he smirks. “You’re a conceited little shit, just like when we met! Swear to god.”

“You’re still shaking.” He says, eyes raking over you, you gasp.

“You know what? Fuck you.”

“If you want to, say the word.” He murmurs, leaning against your doorway, and you roll your eyes.

“No way, I’m going to bed early. Good night.” You shut the door right in his face, sliding down it, head in your hands.

What the heck even was that.

Five weeks of being ‘fake married’ to your best friend, Satoru Gojo

Satoru and you were barely talking this entire week, you’re so furious with his cocky, conceited attitude, and the fact that he’s entirely right. Nothing felt that good, no one felt like just his fingers had, how he found you, how he looked at you. Now for the past week every night you’ve done the one thing you said you wouldn’t do.

Touch yourself to the memory.

You’re rolling your fingers on your clit, whining his name in a breathy whisper the morning of the charity auction, covering your mouth with your free hand as you realize that you’ve done it, that you’ve said his name, all while cumming all over your little fingers, which don’t even come close to his, lengthy and thick, the rough pads of his thumbs.

And you could fuck him, you know you could, but you also know what it will mean, there is no friends after that, kissing alone has made things impossible for you both. And Satoru is doing the most amazing things, you’re so proud of him already, and don’t ever want to lose him. But now he’s in your head, making you absolutely insane with want, with need, with desire.

Now you can’t even think of him without picturing his cheeks hollowing as he sucked your wetness off, picturing his head between your thighs, things you shouldn’t, and it’s like he knows. He smirks at you just so, lazy lidded eyes draping down your frame every morning, every night, making sure to constantly have a hand on you in public.

He was making you lose it, and he knew it.

Your stupid little fingers can’t do shit, in fact they frustrate you more, but it’d be a cold day in hell before you ask him for any help. In fact you realize the game he plays when he walks around in his boxers, when he does push ups in the middle of the living room with one arm, like he’s showing off, smirking when he catches you watching him, in your moments of weakness.

It would be so easy to fall into his bed, but to think of ruining your friendship terrified you, to think of the feelings you know would be unleashed like some fucking flood gate was too much. You never have been able to be casual, you’re not even interested in someone without feelings, and you’re slowly realizing that those feelings when you were younger never went away.

They’re just more intense now, living with him, with this unspoken tension in the air, every breath you take you can practically taste him, every time you watch his fingers slipping around the rim of his cup you remember them in you. As you see the clear bulge in his boxers you remember touching him, remember wanting to taste that precum on his tip.

The worst part is he looks so knowingly at you, so sure you’d probably beg for him, you’re sure many, many women do. But despite knowing Satoru to be a bit of a ladies man, you’ve not seen a single one here since you’ve lived here, not seen him go on a single date. You’re not sure if you could handle it, despite acting so very nonchalant about it.

But you have no claim over him, this was just convenience, every bit of the arrangement. Your new car, no more debt, helping Satoru do what he needed to, you all are a perfect team even with the added tension of your pussy constantly throbbing around said best friend. Surely it wasn’t worth ruining, complicating, just to feel that pleasure he brings.

As you’re putting the finishing touches on your makeup, you nervously step out of the room, into Gojo’s spacious foyer, where he’s turned around, a dark blue suit adorning his body like a glove. He hears your heels click on the marble floor below and turns, his lips parting as he studies you.

The red dress hugs every line and curve of your pretty body, the bold shade making your skin pop so pretty, it looks so smooth he aches to caress you, every bit of you. You are biting your lower lip nervously, looking up at him from across the room as you stand there, looking so beautiful his pulse races.

This week has been torture for Satoru, he wants to tell you then, that he feels so much more than he even knows how to convey, that it wasn’t just ‘getting a friend off’ it was such a joke, he can’t even understand how you believe that. He can’t get the sweetness of your pussy off his goddamn mind, he’d do just about anything to taste it again.

He’s even eyed your panties in the hamper. He's so pathetic and desperate for you, but he’s tried to keep some semblance of composure, to act unbothered, so scared to ruin your relationship. He knows how much you sacrificed just coming here, sure he’s helping you, but you uprooted everything, you acted perfect at every function, you stood up for him at every meeting.

You are the perfect wife.

Pretend wife.

Pretend, pretend, pretend.

He keeps repeating it like a mantra in his head, brushing off the moment in the back of the car as maybe you just needed to cum, maybe it was just that for you, but something about how your eyes met his, has him desperately pumping his cock, hearing your soft whimpers at night. He knows you’re touching yourself, he wishes he could see it, watch it, take over.

Instead he’s stuck endlessly jerking it to his best friend/fake wife, ignoring any girl that even texts him because they just aren’t you. They could care less he’s ‘married’ everyone just wants a piece of him, everyone but you. You just are there for him, with him, by his side, you’d have done this for nothing in return. You’re becoming everything to him so fast it’s terrifying.

The magnification of feelings he’s had for you over so many years is overwhelming, being near you, smelling your sweet scent, hearing you hum as you cook with your earbuds in, your nervous habits. How you twirl your hair, how you tilt your head, how you tremble just a bit when he holds you for the cameras, how you sigh sweetly as he kisses you for show.

You can’t fake that, he knows you’re affected too.

But he doesn’t know if it’s what he feels for you.

He’s stammering like a teenager at prom, but prom pales in comparison to seeing you now, how the diamonds glitter off your neck and delicate wrists, how he can picture fucking you with just that on. Your cheeks are decorated with that pretty color as you handle his wordless scrutiny, teeth releasing your lip when he comes closer, he brushes a thumb across the indentations left.

You gasp, eyes shooting up to his, as the electric current of his touch rocks through you. “You always bite it, stop. Gonna hurt it.” He says, voice husky, eyes hungry as he looms over you in the quiet, elegant room.

“Do I always?” You whisper, and he nods, brushing his thumb over it again, as if to soothe it.

“Mmhmm, gonna cut up such pretty lips.” His voice drops another octave as one of your hand grips his wrist, and you ache for him to kiss you, to press you against one of these cream colored walls and pound into you.

Stop that!?

You clear your throat, taking a breath and then plastering on a little smile. “You look handsome tonight, blue is your color.”

“Red is yours, clearly.” He brushes a bit of hair back off your bare shoulders, two fingers gently running down the strap, watching the network of goosebumps spread, your heart is racing at the contact. Your urge to yank him by his skinny black tie and slam his lips to yours tempts you to no end.

“Thank you for this dress, and the jewelry. Stop getting me more.” Your little glare just makes him grin.

“At the auction you can get whatever you want, so you know.”

“No way, it’ll all be overpriced.”

“It’s charity, baby. Hmm, should we practice kissing more?” He asks, and you smack his hand away, glaring as he chuckles.

“We’ve had lots of practice, let’s go.”

You all are arm in arm as the cameras flash so brightly later that night when you both step out of the car, so much so they hurt your head, but you hold onto Gojo’s arm, as he guides you through, grinning and answering every question effortlessly. “Why the shades at night, Mr. Gojo?”

“Your bright ass cameras hurt my pretty baby blues.” He teases with a pout, earning the laughter there.

“And what’s this talk of major changes in the Gojo corporation?” Another reporter asks, Satoru chuckles then.

“Ah, well these old geezers needed some revamping is all. Right, pookie?” He asks you, and you smile up at him, then at the cameras.

“Satoru knows what’s best for the company and his employees, his changes are going to only make everyone more profitable.” Satoru watches you answer their questions left and right, enamored more and more by you.

“Are you trying for a baby, Mrs. Gojo?” Someone asks then, and you heat up at the question, at the image that flashes in your head.

Gojo breeding you.

So vivid you feel like you’re there, him murmuring a ‘let me fill you, sweetheart, have you so full of my babies’ and pumping over you. You almost faint it’s so real, and you have no clue what has come over you. You don’t think like that!? You’ve never done shit like that… you…

“We’re enjoying each other a lot right now, but it’ll happen I’m sure, when we’re ready. We’re a little consumed with each other.” Satoru answers now, breaking through the pounding of your heart in your ears, you look up at him, lips parted, as he completely saves you, you’ve frozen on the spot. “Right sweetheart?”

“Right.” You clear your throat, shaking your head then. “We are very much in love, and enjoying our alone time, but we’d both love a baby.” You say, and you hate how real it is.

He hates how he can picture you now, full mating press, as he fucks one load of cum into your pussy, and then another, watching it all pool out. Fuck he’d watch your tummy get so full of him. The thoughts of getting you pregnant make him feral then, he can hardly stand there as he just stares at you, and you at him.

You don’t get your best friend/fake wife pregnant.

Do you?

The auction continues, fancy and expensive items for filthy rich people, Gojo detests it more than even you do, though you’d never know with how he plays the room. You see Mei and Naoya again, laughing about something in this creepy way that makes you shiver. When Gojo is mingling while you're having a seat, you see a pretty brunette girl talking to him closely.

Why does it make you feel so sick to see him, you don’t know. You’ve watched him date, and he’s watched you, but something about living with him, about this enormous glinting rock on your finger really messes with you. His grin glinting under glittering chandeliers of this enormous auction room, another woman coming up, surely he runs in their circles.

You try not to focus on that, it’s not as if you have given Gojo a hint that you want more, and do you? Do you want to cross that line? If something doesn’t work, it’s not a fight between friends, it’s the end of everything, and isn’t having Gojo with you somewhat better than not at all?

“You look like you hate this, huh doll?” You hear then, looking up to see a dark haired man, grinning down at you, he’s handsome in a rugged way, not pretty like Satoru, but something appealing. A scar on his lip as he chuckles, gesturing around you both. “Bunch of rich assholes, huh?”

“Shh!” You giggle though, looking around, nodding.

“Knew it.”

“So what’re you doing here?” You ask quietly, he grimaces, running a hand through inky locks.

“Got a fuckin job to do, what about you?” You gesture to Satoru then, who’s glaring right at you both.

“I’m married to Gojo.”

“Ah shit, I’m too late.” You blush a bit at the attention, Satoru has a girl who’s far too close, whispering in his ear, her hand on his shoulder, making you sick.

“Hmm.” Is all you manage, looking back up at the man. “What is your name?”

“Toji Zenin. Yeah, I know, the name… but fuck them.”

“You are different.” You murmur softly, tilting your head to the side, he brushes his fingers then across your thigh subtly, your jaw clenches a bit.

“If I was with you I sure wouldn’t be over there with snobby bitches.” He says, and you don’t like it then, the jealousy in your heart as Gojo walks up suddenly, clearing his throat.

“Zenin.” He mutters, and he grins up at Gojo.

“Talking to your wife, Gojo, keeping her company y’know? Shouldn’t leave such a pretty thing so lonely.”

“You’re. In. My. Seat.” Satoru mutters, teeth clenched together, and Toji laughs with ease, taking your hand, planting a kiss on the back of it with a wink.

“See ya around, doll.” He says, patting Gojo on the shoulder, and Satoru wants to rip his fucking arm off then, as he glares down at you, sitting in the seat, but you cross your arms, looking away.

“Did he touch you?” He demands quietly, you frown then.

“He was nice, I mean he-”

“Nice!? Looked like he wanted to eat you.”

“What do you care, looks like they were all over you. Oh look, they miss you, go say hi.” You say, as three girls giggle and point over at Satoru, his blue eyes narrow, leaning over you then, cupping your face with his hand.

“Think I wanted to be bombarded by flirty ass drunk women?”

“I don’t know!”

“Do you care if I do?”

“No! What do you care about me then?” You demand, whispering amongst the loud crowd of auctioneers, as they start lining pieces up for sale.

“Because he… you…” Satoru trails off, mouth opening and closing. “You are my wife right now, you know.”

“Fake wife.” You correct, seeing a vein throb in his temple.

“It doesn’t matter, how does it look when-”

“That’s what you care about, appearances? Don’t worry, I won’t ruin your precious appearance any.” You whisper, as the crowd settles, and a brilliant sapphire necklace is now on display.

“You act like you don’t care at all, I saw you.”

“So what!?”

“So why don’t you just tell me how -”

“Ten thousand, do I hear…”

“Shh.” You scowl at him, as he scowls back at you. “Maybe you should go sit with your girlfriends.”

He laughs softly, without humor. “You’re jealous.”

“Nope, you’ve always been that way. What’s surprising is not having seen a girl at the house.”

“You think I want-”

“Twenty Thousand, going once, going…”

“Want someone more your speed? Sure, I know this is just convenience, I'm not stupid.” You say, he scowls even deeper, his hand suddenly on your thigh in the darkened room, making your heart pound as it squeezes bruisingly.

“I’ll not have anyone touch you.” His words make no sense, they don’t even compute in your brain then.

“What do you care, hmm? If I did. If I was discrete. Remember?” You ask, bitingly and full of shit, and you watch the hurt in his eyes, hating yourself for a moment before his eyes turn insane, dilating until they’re almost black.

“You wanna fuck him, huh?” He demands, you scoff, shaking your head.

“You’re stupid, Satoru.”

“Me stupid!?”

“If you think that I want anyone but…” You pause then, gulping as people are starting to look, hearing your hushed arguments then, and you stand angrily, stomping off until you hit the bathroom, splashing water on your neck, trying to pull yourself together.

You almost said it.

You’ll never want anyone but Satoru, your best friend, and you never have, fuck you probably never will, and it’s terrifying you. When the door shuts and he’s there, chest heaving, you turn away, tears pricking your eyes. “Just go away, fuck it’s the ladies room.”

“You’re mad at me for talking to women at an event?”

“You’re mad at me for talking to someone at an event?”

Yes, fuck yes he’s furious that man got near you.

That maybe you’d want someone else, more than him.

He steps closer, hands on your shoulders now. ““You gonna be mad when I fuck someone in my room, huh?”

You freeze, turning and glaring up at him then. ��I hear you jerk off every night, so what’s the difference?”

Satoru looms even closer, you feel his breath hit your lips, making your tummy clench at the thoughts of him. “And I hear you moan as you play with your little clit, ya frustrated your tiny fingers don’t hit?”

“Oh fuck you!” You turn now, shoving at him, chest heaving, but he pulls you to him, pressing you against the bathroom counter, glittering and ridiculously opulent, hands shaking when they’re on your waist.

“You should just ask for help, sounds like you can’t cum.” Satoru whispers, earning a smack on the face that makes him smirk.

“Maybe you should ask me, how many times do you need to jerk off a night, huh Toru?” Satoru’s laughing then, insanity, his cheek decorated with red from your little hand print.

“At least I make myself cum.”

“Fuck you, I’m over this. I’ll take the opposite side of the house, won’t have to hear your moans.”

“Good, won’t hear your pathetic whimpers.”

“Good!”

“Good!” You both stand there, him bent over, barring you with his arms. “Admit it, you’re jealous.”

“Nope, just annoyed with you. Over you, Mr. never has on a fucking shirt!”

“Good, I’m done, Miss walks around in slutty panties!”

“Ugh!” You shove at him again, until he’s slamming his lips on yours, and then you’re lifted like you’re nothing, when his tongue slips in your mouth, and you’re clinging to him eagerly, as he sits you on the sink, hungrily shoving up your red dress. “You’re gonna rip it, shit!”

“I’ll buy you twenty more, just shut up.” You go to retort when he’s kissing you again, deeper now, and you’re crying out right in a bathroom, knowing anyone could walk in, only serving to make your cunt dripping wet, when he finds it he moans, pulling back and staring at you. “Why are you so beautiful?”

You can’t speak then, you’re lost in him, in his blue eyes and his pink lips, in his big hands all over you, his whispering words crushing any resolve you try to have. You lose all reason then, as your head falls back as he kisses up your throat, and you’re gushing down his fingers, remembering their shape and feel as they tease your entrance.

“Please, Satoru…”

“Why are you so sweet now, huh? Where’s your attitude?” He murmurs, but you’re arching up, whining as he stares at you so hungry. “Should fuck that attitude out of you.”

“Please…” You whisper again, when Satoru bends down, his head between your thighs, and stares right at your glittering pussy.

“Oh my god, she’s s’fuckin pretty…” He murmurs then, licking a stripe up your slit that has you crying out into your hand, thighs shaking as he groans at finally being able to taste you. “S’yummy mmm…”

“Toru…what’re you-ah!” You’re covering your mouth again as he laps at your cunt, his nose bumping your sensitive clit, and you’re dripping down his face, hand finding purchase in his silken white hair, gripping it.

“Gonna lick this attitude out of you.” He whispers, as your sweet nectar pours down his mouth, his hands spreading your plump lips, fucking you with his tongue then, your head smacks the wall, nearly sobbing it feels so good. “No one’s licked it, have they, baby?” You shake your head. “Good, s’all mine, huh?”

“All… y-you… Toru what are- mnh!” He’s yanking you to him by your hips, devouring you now, unlike anything you’ve ever felt, having you close so fast it’s embarrassing, tongue dancing and delving between your folds, drinking you up loud and wanton in this bathroom.

“F-fuck….” He’s achingly hard now, cock throbbing, tip of his tongue circling your little clit as he spreads you wide, looking at your perfect pretty pussy.

“You’re just… looking at it…” You manage to whisper, and he’s chuckling now, leaning over you, sinking two fingers inside, making your eyes roll back, so sensitive you’re about to cum right then and there. “Imagining it dripping out cum, sweetheart, that’s all.”

Your brain short circuits. “With cum!?”

“Mmm.” He’s not using words anymore, not when he’s picking you up, planting your heeled feet back on the bathroom floor, turning you to face the mirror. He’s lifting that dress up higher and bending down, pressing against you, finally he’s lost it, so drunk off your pussy, he can’t take it anymore.

“Satoru, you’re insane, what are you…”His cock springs out, heavy and aching with need, as he bends you over, one hand on his cock, the other, wrapping your pretty little throat, as your eyes catch his in the mirror, glassy and dilated.

“Next time he or anyone talks to you, it’ll be with my cum dripping out of your pretty little pussy.”

Final Part

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Rest in the reblog <3

#gojo x reader #jjk smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #satoru x reader #divider by cafekitsune #satoru gojo x female reader #gojo x female reader #gojo x f!reader #jujustu kaisen #gojo satoru #satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x yn

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em1i2a3 · 3 months ago

Text

When The Sun Hits

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry x Avengers!Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Bob are starting to test the waters among rampant growing suspicions from the rest of the team (This is a continuation of “Carry The Zero”)

Warnings: AHEM! 18+ Minors DNI! Semi-Spoilers for Thunderbolts just because of Bob’s involvement (there’s no mentioning of the plot from Thunderbolts or anything just character involvement ex. Bucky, Yelena, Alexei, Walker etc.), Fluff, References to Sex and/or Sexual Acts, Bob…Is a warning lol. There’s a little bit of self-depreciation in this, talking bad about oneself, but nothing too extreme on that front.

Smut Warnings: Grinding, Teasing (kind of on the brink of edging?) Unprotected P in V Sex (Wrap it up y’all…Or Y’know…Take precautions at least lol), Oral Sex (fem receiving), Fingering, Spit Swallowing, Handjob, Praise/Worship Kink. Soft/Submissive Bob (if you squint) (Hopefully I didn’t miss anything),

Author’s Note: I got this out as soon as I possibly could, thank you so much for the activity on the last post :) y’all are frickin awesome. I hope you enjoy this new part of this story, because I’m going straight to horny jail *boink boink* lol (also whoever made this gif you deserve all the fucking flowers <3)

Word Count: 16,150

Two weeks later you found yourself on the training mat, slicked with sweat, and out of breath.

You wiped your forearms across your forehead, chest rising and falling as you rolled your shoulders to relieve some tension that seized up your back, steadying your stance again, angling yourself carefully so your sight was trained on both Yelena and Bucky.

“Ready?” Yelena asked, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, her curtain bangs bobbing with each movement, preparing herself to pounce.

“As I’ll ever be,” You muttered, exhaling hard through your nose, tasting the remnants of blood that you had spit out two rounds ago after taking a pretty hard slap to the face. You kept your mind clear though, because if you focused on anything else in that moment, you’d lose miserably, or get hurt again, which was something that you didn’t want at all, especially after you were benched for a week after you injured your shoulder.

It was two against one today, which was entirely unfair, but also part of the challenge. Bucky called it ‘awareness training.’ Yelena called it ‘fun.’

They flanked you like wolves attacking a wounded animal. Yelena moved first, sharp and precise, going for a low sweep with her leg. You jumped and dodged it easily, pivoting to avoid Bucky’s right hook. He was heavier on his feet, but that didn’t mean he was slower in any sense. You ducked beneath his next swing and caught Yelena’s wrist before she could even capitalize on your evasion, using her own momentum to send her stumbling back, giving you some space to breathe.

”Not bad,” She huffed.

”Not done yet,” Bucky growled, before charging at you again. You anticipated him this time, moving back just enough to throw him off rhythm. He came at you with a series of jabs, but you blocked them all, even the ones that were enhanced by his vibranium arm, which surprised you even. You parried with a side kick that landed square against his hip, catching him off balance. This granted you a window to turn back towards Yelena, who had just regained her footing.

She came in full force and you barely had time to register her moves. You raised your arm to shield your face from her fist, feeling the impact ripple along the muscle just below your biceps, before striking in the open space she left, right at her ribs, which made her take in a sharp gasp of air.

You didn’t mean to, but a little satisfied smirk played on your lips, like you had the upper hand, like you were finally going to win…Then Bucky swept your legs out from under you with a move so clean you barely noticed the impact.

You hit the mat with a hard exhale, the wind knocking out of your lungs as your back hit the floor. The fluorescent light shined down into your eyes, almost blinding you, and in a blink, Bucky was standing over you, looking down with his hands on his hip.

”You got cocky…And let your guard down for the third time.” He muttered, with a small grin plastered on his face.

”That…” You breathed, trying to recoup the air you lost from slamming into the mat, “Was a cheap shot,” You added, blinking up at him, seeing the way his hair framed his face as he shook his head at you. Without another word, he extended his hand out to you, and you took it, fingers gripping his forearm as he hoisted you to your feet in one swift movement. You staggered slightly when the room tilted for a split second, your balance thrown from the impact you took that still surged through you with little aftershocks. Bucky steadied you instantly with a firm hand on your elbow, eyes scanning over your face.

”You alright?” He asked, with concern lacing his voice, trying to determine whether or not you needed another med bay visit. You gave him a nod.

”Yeah, yeah, just a bit dizzy from that slam, but I’ll live.” Right before Bucky was going to respond, Yelena cut in.

”Alright you two. Water. Now. Before I pass out from sweating so much.” She didn’t wait for either of you to agree, she just turned toward the bench on the far side of the room, and snatched up three water bottles from the crate nearby, which were already chilled. She tossed one to you and to Bucky, beckoning the both of you to join her in a nice break.

The three of you dropped down onto the bench with soft grunts and groans harmonizing the air, as you dragged the back of your arm across your forehead to wipe the beads of sweat off it. You were beat, that was for certain. You could already feel a new set of bruises forming on your body, especially where you had landed on your ass just moments ago, and that was just another thing you were going to have to tend to for the next few days.

You twisted the cap off your bottle and took three large gulps from it, feeling your chest go cold from how quick you chugged. Your sweat-slicked shirt clung to your spine, but the introduction of the drink was finally managing your body temperature, as your pulse began to slow down, easing the rhythmic thumping that echoed through your ears. You put the cap back on, and placed the bottle against your forehead with a sigh, watching your teammates settle down–Yelena beside you, Bucky on the bench across the way. That’s when you felt it…The subtle tension in the air, the silence that lingered just long enough that it made you suspicious.

Bucky lifted his brows sharply at Yelena, like he was daring her to speak first, like they had been planning on asking you questions all day but didn’t know how to approach the subject. She shook her head just once, staring at him with pointed daggers, almost like she was saying that it was his idea so he should be the one to say it. He let out a defeated sigh.

“So…Uh…” He started, scrunching his nose like the words that were on the tip of his tongue tasted weird in his mouth, “How’s it going with Bob? Y’know…Rooming with him and all.” The question caught you off guard, but the awkwardness from Bucky gave off the sense that he was asking this more because everyone else around him was talking and making up their own theories, and he just wanted to get the answers once and for all.

That didn’t mean the question didn’t spike your heart rate again though. Just the mentioning of Bob made you immediately go on defence mode, not just because of what was going on between the both of you, but because you both wanted this to be private until further notice. Neither of you were prepared for the team to know about your late night rendezvous, or how deep the connection really went. It was your little secret and you preferred to keep it that way.

“It’s okay…” You answered, trying to cover up the stutter in your words, “He’s definitely one of the easier roommates I’ve had to be honest. Super quiet, keeps to himself. It’s great.” You avoided Bucky’s gaze, your eyes focusing on the water bottle in your hands before glancing over at Yelena, who was already squinting at you.

”Super quiet, huh?” She repeated, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards, like she didn’t quite buy what you were putting down. You looked over at Bucky too, now seeing that he was watching you as well with one elbow propped up on his knee so he could rest his chin on his fist.

“Yeah, super quiet, he just reads and sleeps basically, nothing more, nothing less. What’s with this line of questioning? You two roleplaying as detectives or something?” Bucky huffed through his nose, a mix between a laugh and a sigh.

”We wouldn’t have to be detectives if you weren’t so secretive…” You raised your eyebrows at Bucky, attempting to hold onto your fake innocence, trying to make it seem like they weren’t somehow onto you, even though there was no possible way they could know anything that was going on in your shared room…Not unless there were cameras, but that was definitely not the case…Because you looked for them.

“Me? Secretive? I don’t understand how I’m being secretive, I’m answering your questions, aren’t I?” Yelena made a small humming sound beside you, sipping from her water bottle, before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

”Okay then, Miss Transparency…” She started, setting the bottle on the bench gently, “What about the window?” You froze, and instantly your brain spiraled with questions on how the hell she found out about the window. You kept your cool on the outside, while the rest of your internal organs were twisting and malfunctioning on the inside trying to figure out how you were going to get yourself out of this one.

”What window?” You asked.

”The one in your room,” Yelena responded, leaning forward just a little bit to crowd your space, “Maintenance said you put in a request to fix it three days ago because there was a crack in the glass. He said it looked like someone took a sledge hammer to it. Kinda weird, yeah?” You blinked at Yelena, keeping your expression blank, like you were thinking.

“Ohhhh…That window.” You said, as if you had just remembered what she was talking about. You waved your hand vaguely, letting out a shaky laugh, which did absolutely nothing to cover the tension that began to seep through your muscles, “Yeah, no, it’s not that weird. I, uh…Accidently pushed my dresser drawer closed a little too hard and the wood slammed into the glass, kind of a freak accident if you ask me.” Yelena stared at you flatly, watching you flail while trying to come up with something believable off the top of your head. If you had time to actually prepare for the grilling you would’ve at least thought of something as back up, but this was just totally unexpected.

It’s not like you could’ve told them the truth anyways, because it just wouldn’t have sounded good, and it would’ve just put Bob under the spotlight once again, and he didn’t deserve that at all. Not when he was trying so hard to get along with everyone, which he was doing very well at until this point at least.

So you just laughed it off again, muttering something about needing to be more careful, before tipping the bottle of water to your lips to shut yourself up.

But your mind was already drifting back to that night, and you couldn’t stop it.

——————

Four nights ago was movie night.

Alexei had insisted on it—insisted being the operative word, because no one had really agreed to it in the first place.

He said movie nights were a “sacred ritual” from his youth, a tradition that brought people together, made them stronger, and unified the soul. And when someone offhandedly mentioned that Bucky had never seen Rocky IV, that sealed everyone’s fate.

“It is masterpiece,” Alexei declared, standing in the center of the living room with the case held high like a relic. You were surprised that he even had a DVD of it, but then again he had mentioned in passing it was one of his favourite movies.

“American propaganda, yes, but still…Very good representation.” He exclaimed, moving around the living room to locate the video player, as you all watched him.

So Rocky IV became the night’s reluctant feature, and any protests were quickly steamrolled under his booming enthusiasm.

The lights were off, the curtains were drawn, and the only glow in the room came from the TV screen—icy blue and gunmetal gray as the film’s opening credits began to roll. Everyone had found their spots. Yelena curled into one corner of the sectional while Walker was on the other, Bucky sat low in a beanbag chair with his arms crossed, Alexei sat right in front of the television with the reverence of a man watching live theatre…

And then there was you.

You tucked yourself into the corner of the couch with a blanket draped on top of you, leaning against a pillow for support because your shoulder was still giving you a little bit of trouble. Bob was beside you, but he was not close enough to raise suspicion as the both of you had separate blankets and weren’t really touching at all…Not yet, at least.

Somewhere near the halfway point of the movie–just after Rocky’s training montage–Bob shifted slightly beside you, adjusting himself with a slight turn of his hips. It wasn’t a big move, but it was noticeable enough to draw your eyes to him, then you saw his hand sliding beneath his blanket ever so slowly, paying attention to the others in the room, hoping that none of them would turn around.

Even through the terrible lighting you could see him beginning to flush, his pale skin becoming a gentle hue of pink which spread all the way down to the collar of pale green sweater, and below it. You couldn’t help but smirk at the sight, seeing how he tried to keep his profile composed, as he moved his hand with quiet purpose, sliding beneath your blanket in one quick movement, knowing that once he was under there nobody would know any better what was happening.

His fingers found your thigh beneath the covering, completely bare for him because of the flannel shorts you were wearing. The first touch was delicate, almost like it wasn’t even there, though you could feel the heat radiating off his skin as the pads of his fingers ghosted over the wide plane of your flesh. He was waiting for you to pull away, to signal to him you didn’t want him to do this here, but when that moment didn’t come, his hand finally settled against you.

He took everything slow, and moved with such care and purpose that you felt like you were going to melt into the sofa . His palm molded gently to the outside of your thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles, drawing goosebumps up to the surface of your skin. The touch wasn’t lewd, nor needy…It was intimate in one of the simplest ways possible. Just the grounding press of his hand against you, soaking up the heat of your body, letting it mingle with his own.

You felt your pulse begin to hammer in your ears, and your eyes flickered to the rest of the team, checking if they were still transfixed by whatever was happening in the movie, which they were. Nobody was looking. So you took this as an opportunity for yourself to make a move now too.

It was a gentle shift, just enough to let your blanket drape a little farther over the space between the both of you, until it overlapped with his. You ripped a page out of Bob’s book and slipped your hand beneath the threshold of the covering, before moving it towards him with the same stealthy patience he had just moments ago.

You found his thigh easily, resting your hand against the soft checker-patterned sleep pants he wore. The fabric was light and thin enough to allow you to feel every flex and shift of muscle beneath your touch, the way it twitched at first contact and relaxed when you dragged your palm against it. He cleared his throat gently, trying to mask the noise that was about to slip out of his throat unwillingly.

His thumb on your thigh had stilled completely in those moments, like you had pulled the plug on all his motor functions by just settling your hand on him in the most gentle way possible. Over the past week of being holed up together during your Bucky mandated break from training, you had learned that gentleness was the key thing that unraveled Bob faster than anything else ever could.

Your fingers slowly dragged upward with the lightest graze over the thin fabric, tracing the line of muscle you could feel there. You didn’t press hard, there was no need to, because you could already feel that he was burning under your palm, coming undone, shifting in his seat, like he wanted to get closer to you but couldn’t.

He was trying so hard not to breathe loudly, or to draw attention to himself by making an unnatural noise. His hand tightened on your thigh, giving it a small squeeze, like he was pleading for you to continue, but for you to also take it easy on him because he didn’t know how much he was going to be able to handle. He felt like he was going to turn into a puddle on the sofa, and the sweating and flushing that he was doing was only a prelude to that. You could feel the tension in his body, the way it practically vibrated through him, and it only made you want to touch him more.

You smoothed your thumb over the inside of his thigh, just above the knee, where he flinched. He sucked in a breath and immediately turned it into a cough, low and forced, like he was trying to dislodge something that was stuck in his throat–even though you knew it was just him trying to stifle a sound that he didn’t dare let out–squeezing your thigh again like it was anchoring him to whatever stability he had left.

You didn’t need more than this. You just enjoyed every morsel of connection you got from him, and revelled in the excitement that coursed through your veins from the small things you learned about him, like how easy he was to read, or how flustered he got from such little contact. Or how touch-starved he was despite all the late nights and quiet mornings you two were sharing up until this point. He was learning how to let himself go, but that didn’t mean he was used to it just yet.

By the time the end credits rolled and Alexei stood to stretch with a complaint about how Americans don’t know when to end a movie, Bob was already clawing at the opportunity to make his grand escape. His hand left your thigh, and reached for his blanket–not to fold it, not to hold it when he stood–but to clutch it, to replicate the grip he had on your skin moments before. You slowly removed your hand from him as well, making sure you discreetly brought it back into your area without anyone noticing.

Every motion he did was methodical, almost exaggerated in its effort to present itself as casual, like the both of you weren’t just touching each other's thighs beneath your communal blankets. You watched from the corner of your eye as Bob adjusted the covering over his lip, gripping the hem carefully as he shifted on the couch, leaning slightly forward.

He was shielding himself.

You could tell by the blush that began to deepen around his neck, and the way he couldn’t seem to look at anyone in the room–not even you–that he was trying very hard not to be obvious about the problem that was currently occurring below his waist. The one you had caused with just the gentle stroking of his thigh.

The realization made you heat up, but also smirk.

”I’m gonna…Uh…” Bob cleared his throat, attempting to cover up the way his words buckled under his voice “Head to my room…Start getting ready for bed and stuff, I had a good book I was getting into before…C-Coming to watch the movie.” He added, standing from the couch, keeping the blanket bunched in front of him with a practiced sort of shuffle that only he could execute with pure awkwardness. He said a vague goodnight and everyone responded in their own little way, as he moved towards the corridor that led to the makeshift bedrooms.

Your eyes followed his movements, watching when he made it out of everyone’s line of sight. He turned around, knowing that your eyes were already on him and mouthed a very light “please hurry,” before rushing down the hallway to seek refuge in the privacy of your room.

You waited exactly thirty seconds, which was long enough for the heat in your limbs to settle so when you stood up you didn’t have shaky legs, or draw attention to any of your actions, even though nobody was really paying attention in general.

Yelena was half-sleep, eyes barely open while she nursed what was left of her electrolytes. Walker had his head tilted back, and was snoring loudly. Bucky was sprawled out in the beanbag chair, and Alexei was still rambling, only now it was about how Ivan Drago’s story in Rocky is just misunderstood. So you took the opportunity to stand, and let out an exaggerated yawn, rubbing your eyes for added effect.

”Think I’m also going to head to bed too. I’m exhausted.” You murmured, which earned a small wave from Yelena, a grunt of acknowledgment from Bucky, and a pause from Alexei.

”Did you not like the movie?” He asked, and you smirked.

”Yes of course I liked it, I’ve just seen it a few too many times, but tomorrow you can give me the footnotes on how misunderstood Drago’s story is, for now though I’m off to bed.” He gave you a wide smile, and as you moved away from the living room you could hear him mumble something about you actually being interested in what he had to say.

You quickly made your way down the hall, feeling your heart racing as you made your way towards the room. You tried your best to not make yourself look suspicious but the anticipation was eating you up on the inside.

The second you entered your shared quarters and closed the door behind you, you felt it–that shift in the air, like the moment right before lightning strikes a tree, the static that ebbs and flows through the atmosphere, like a warning to those who are around. The only light that glowed in the space was the desk lamp, which casted golden shapes across the walls, and once you locked the door and turned around, your eyes fell on him.

Bob stood by his bed, the blanket was long discarded, and his sweater was removed, leaving him in a plain white t-shirt. His hands were fidgeting uselessly with the tie of his sleep pants, and when his eyes fell on you it was like he lost all the thoughts that were running through his head. The flush of pink on his cheeks hadn’t faded, if anything it had gotten worse between the time he left the couch and now, like the warmth had fully rooted inside him.

He didn’t say anything right away, he just opened his arms slightly, silently offering himself to you.

In a few quick steps, you crossed the room, taking up the space between his arms, pressing your hands gently to his chest, feeling the way his heart galloped beneath your palm. He cupped your elbows first, tentative and shy, looking down at you with those shimmering blue eyes that you had come to fawn over in secret, before letting his hands slide down to your wrists. You gave him a soft smile, tilting your head back a bit so he could lean forward to kiss you.

His mouth brushed yours once–tentative and silent, like he was asking a question–then again, with more confidence when you didn’t pull away, before fully pressing his mouth to yours. He kissed you like he thought he would never get the chance to do it again. Like he was memorizing the shape of your lips, or the way you sighed into him like you’d been holding your breath for hours while waiting for this moment to come. His hands left your wrists, you slid up to your jaw, the tips of his thumbs barely grazing the corners of your mouth

And you melted into him.

You’d been doing this dance for the past few nights now–experiencing these careful, burning moments together that never quite tipped over the edge–and neither of you seemed to mind. You didn’t need the act of sex to feel intimate with him, even though you still had those thoughts that raced through you from time to time.

Every night you got to learn something new about him–how his breathing changed when you kissed his throat, how the muscles in his stomach twitched when you trailed your fingers ever so slowly under the hem of his shirt, and how he arched subtly into your touch like he was too afraid to vocalize that he wanted more.

It was explorative, patient, and gentle, and that’s all the both of you needed to have a good time.

The kiss continued to deepen, as his lips parted for you, letting your tongue through the threshold. He tasted like fresh breath mints, like he had swallowed a few before you came into the room, which wasn’t an out of place thought at all–he typically did small things like that.

His hands skimmed down your neck, and over your shoulders, travelling down to your hips to anchor himself against you. He put a little more pressure into the kiss, feeling your body press flush into his, causing a small gasp to escape and vibrate against your lips from him. He pulled back for a moment, as your arms slid around his neck, guiding him down even more so he could bury his face briefly into your shoulder. He breathed in deeply, letting his lungs fill with the various scents that radiated off of you– the vanilla from your shampoo, the lavender from your perfume, and the sage that constantly stayed on all of your clothes in general–before exhaling shakily, tugging you closer to him.

He guided you backward with a quiet sort of urgency.

”Come here,” He whispered, the words came out so softly it barely made it past his lips.

He led you to his bed, with his hand pressed low at your back, fingers splayed out like it was steadying the both of you. When the backs of your legs met the edge of the mattress you let yourself sit, eyes still locked on his. He was still watching you closely, like you were ethereal, something that shouldn’t exist for him.

You bit your bottom lip, feeling how swollen it was just from the one kiss that you got, and brought your fingers to the hem of your shirt, slipping them under. Bob felt his chest heave for a moment, the beating of his heart only becoming more frantic, as he hung on your movements like it was a sacred text.

You peeled the top off slowly, revealing the curve of your waist, your chest, your shoulders in small increments–it was more than he’d ever seen at once from you. Once you riddled yourself of the article of clothing you threw it to the side, which left you in just a plain white, cotton bra.

Bob’s gaze swept over you modestly, almost like he was too shy to linger on one part of you for too long, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. You saw the way he struggled to swallow for a moment, gulping loudly from the way his throat closed from all the tension that was building up in the room, then you saw his hands move down to the hem of his own shirt.

He awkwardly shimmied out of the fabric, tugging it over his head, messing up his light brown mane of hair in the proces. You could feel your chest tighten, and your mouth dry up, seeing the expanse of skin that was exposed to you.

It was the first time he’d allow you to see him like this.

And god–he was beautiful.

His chest was broad and lean. He was dusted with freckles that went across his shoulders and collarbones, like they were constellations begging to be traced. There were a few scars too–old and pale, stretched and softened with time, because they certainly weren’t fresh. You wondered about each of them. Not necessarily the stories, but how they shaped him as the person you were falling for more and more every day.

He was flushed from neck to navel, the pink hue blossoming over his ribs and all the way up to his ears. His arms hung at his sides for a moment, allowing you to drink in the image, even though he was visibly curling in on himself a bit. You reached out for him, beckoning for him to come closer to you, watching as he sheepishly moved into your space now. Your fingers skimmed gently over his ribs, dragging slowly up the plane of his stomach and across the center of his chest. You looked up at him with a smile plastered on your lips

“You’re breathtaking Bob…” You whispered, seeing the way his eyes softened, hearing the sincerity that laced your voice when the compliment fell from you. He felt lightheaded from it, as you leaned in to kiss the skin just above his navel, your smile shadowing against the flesh.

“I think I’m gonna die.” He responded, choking on his own breaths.

”Now, now…Don’t die yet…You haven’t kissed me again.” That is what unraveled him, seeing you pull away from his stomach, looking up at him with those lust filled eyes that he had seen night after night.

He leaned down slowly this time, and when your lips met, it was warmer than before, like a supernova had exploded between the both of you. It started soft, like the last one, but it built. His mouth moved over yours with a kind of reverence that made your toes curl into the carpet beneath you. His hands skimmed down your sides, thumbs brushing along the soft slope of your waist as he kissed you deeper.

Then one hand drifted lower, tracing over your outer thigh. He paused just for a second to look at you, and when you gave the smallest nod, he gently urged you backward.

You let him guide you down until you back pressed into the mattress as he hovered above you, bracing himself on one elbow beside your head while the other stayed on your thigh, as you bracketed his hips with your legs. You could feel how hard he was trying to rein himself in, watching his shoulders tense when you brought him closer to you.

”A-Are you sure this is okay?” He whispered against your lips, his breath mingling with yours in the thin space between you.

”Bob,” You murmured, tracing your fingers along the freckles on his collarbone, “If I wasn’t sure, I would tell you.” His eyes fluttered shut for a beat, the words sinking into him like a weighted blanket, before he leaned forward to kiss you again, savouring the contact.

You felt the way he trembled just slightly above you, the way he braced so carefully against his arm, like he was scared of putting too much weight on you, or doing something wrong. His lips dragged over yours, warm and open, letting you taste the cool mint again as his tongue flicked out to meet yours when you deepened the kiss.

His breath stuttered as he exhaled sharply through his nose, attempting to keep up, but you could feel how overwhelmed he was already. Your hands slid over his back, fingers tracing along the soft lines of his muscles beneath skin that practically burned beneath your touch. You felt every ripple, every twitch of control that he tried to maintain, and the thought of it–of him holding himself back for you–made you want to pull him even closer.

He groaned softly against your mouth, almost like it was bordering on a whimper.

“Jesus…You feel so good,” He whispered suddenly, like he couldn’t keep it in, like it was something he had been wanting to say all week and it finally burst free. His voice cracked slightly with the confession, and his cheeks burned as he buried his face against your jaw to hide the heat crawling up his neck, realizing how stupid it must’ve sounded.

”S-Sorry, I just…I just-“ You hushed him for a moment, slipping your hand up his back slowly before curling your fingers into his hair.

”Bob…Don’t apologize. You feel good against me too.” You had barely let the words settle between the both of you, when you hooked your legs a little tighter around his waist and gently guided his hips closer to yours.

Bob’s breath caught in his throat.

His jaw slackening and his lips parting in tandem with one another, as his eyes locked onto yours like he was trying to decipher something written across your irises. You could see it in his face–the unraveling, the awe, the absolute vulnerability of someone who wasn’t used to being wanted like this. And yet, he was burning from the inside out.

“What…What are you doing?” He asked, his voice thin and shaky.

Instead of answering, you ground your hips up against him in one slow, aching press.

The noise he made was soft and strangled, caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan. His eyes fluttered shut for half a second, then snapped open again, and you were able to see the dazed glassiness that shimmered over them. You could see the way the new sensation tore through him, as a full-body tremor made his shoulders tense and his thighs flinch.

He didn’t move at first–he couldn’t. But when you tugged gently on the back of his hair and pressed your lips to his neck, he let go.

His hips rocked forward, not with force but with aching, desperate need, mirroring the movement you’d given him. Your bodies slotted together in a slow, tender rhythm, each motion sending a wave of heat in your abdomen. It wasn’t frenzied or rough—it was exploratory, intoxicating, and so deeply charged you felt like your bones were shaking.

You kissed your way up his neck, feeling his pulse jump under your lips. His hand was trembling against your thigh, while the other one gripped the duvet beside your head. You felt the shudder in his breath again, and the way his hips pressed a little harder this time, a little more urgently. You could feel the outline of him pushing against the thin fabric of your cotton shorts, and it left you breathless, just the thought of being so close almost made your heart stop.

The moment swelled around you–timeless, heavy, and sacred.

Then your fingers trailed down, slow as molasses, brushing over his abdomen and dipping lower, finding the waistband of his sleep pants.

The reaction was instantaneous.

His entire body went rigid, and his eyes snapped open, bright and wide—and in that split second, you saw it. That flicker of gold in his irises. It glinted like sunlit honey, like lightning flashing beneath the surface of a lake.

Then–CRACK.

A sharp, unnatural noise split into the room, and both your heads jerked toward the window, seeing the fracture that had webbed across the glass. It kind of looked similar to when a rock hits a windshield at full speed, only there was a larger impact point. You both blinked at the damage, before your eyes returned to his, seeing that the gold was gone, and he was back to his normal shimmering blue irises that you were enamoured by.

His mouth moved to speak, but no sound came out, then he looked down at himself, and froze. You followed his gaze, seeing a wet spot blooming across the front of his pants.

Then everything happened all at once.

He scrambled off of you, nearly toppling sideways off the bed in the process, and you sat up immediately, reaching for him.

”Bob…Hey…” You said, trying to get him to calm down a bit, but he was already moving.

”Crap…I’m-I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked, as he grabbed his shirt off the floor, pulling it on with frantic hands like he needed to shield himself from you, from the world, from his own embarrassment that floated up into his chest, causing him to shake a bit. He tried to cover up the wet patch as his skin turned a cherry red, spreading all the way over his face and neck. He opened his drawer so fast that it nearly flew off the track as he collected the first pair of boxers and sleep pants that he could find.

“Bob, it’s alright.” You murmured, watching him rush towards the door,

”I-I just…I need…I just need a second.” He whispered before bolting out the door so he could tend to himself in the privacy of the bathroom.

You sat on his bed, still breathless from the closeness, from the way his body had moved against yours, and from the crack in the damn window. But mostly, from the way he looked when he realized what had happened—like the sky had fallen on him. Your heart was aching in the way he reacted, and now that you were sitting alone everything felt amplified.

Your eyes drifted to the window again, staring at the crack that shimmered faintly beneath the golden wash of the lamp–splintering like lightning. Curiosity pulled you from the bed, as you shuffled closer to it, wanting to get a better look.

The fracture was intricate, jagged at the center with spider web veins splitting outward like a slow explosion. You reached up, hovering your hand in front of it.

No air came through, no whistling of wind, and no change in temperature.

You furrowed your brow and pressed your palm against the surface, feeling the cool solidity of the glass. It didn’t flex, nor did it crack even more with the pressure you placed on it, which made you even more perplexed.

You stepped back slightly, squinting at the window. It definitely wasn’t a regular one, it was industrial, reinforced, maybe even bulletproof. The thought made your lips part a little, as you tried to reconcile the softness of Bob–the sweet, awkward, blushing man who mouthed please hurry to you because he wanted to be so close–with the person who had just cracked fortified glass because he was so overwhelmed by your touch.

You huffed out a breath that was caught between awe and amusement, as you continued to stare at the jagged impact, until you saw movement in the glass, noticing Bob trying to sneak in, like you wouldn’t see him. You turned on your heels.

He stood against the door, fiddling with the hem of his shirt as you looked him over. He had changed into navy blue sleep pants, and his hair was clinging to his forehead–you assumed it was from him splashing water on his face to freshen up. He was holding onto a bundle of clothes–the ones he had changed out of–as his eyes scanned over you before dating away. You glanced down at yourself, suddenly remembering that you were shirtless, standing in your bra still.

His face flushed again, but this time it was threaded with much more than just embarrassment. There was remorse in there, maybe even a little bit of fear, like he was worried that you wouldn’t look at him the same because of what happened.

“I…” He started, voice hoarse, “…I’m sorry. Again. I didn’t mean to just…Leave like that, I just–” He swallowed hard, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t want you to see me like that. Or, I mean–you did, I guess, but–God.” He laughed breathlessly, eyes squeezed shut for a second. “I’m making this worse.” You shook your head gently, cutting him off before he spiraled any further.

“It’s okay Bob…Trust me you don’t have to apologize.” You said quietly, stretched out a hand towards him, “Now, come over here please.” Bob glanced down at the gesture, returning his gaze back up at you, hesitating for only a second before stepping forward, dropping the bundle of clothes on the floor. His movements were so timid, like a wounded animal coming over to look at the mess it made.

When he was close enough you leaned forward and wrapped your hand around his wrist. His eyes were wide and glistening as you tugged him toward you even more, his lashes trembling with the weight of remorse. Not just for bolting from the room or leaving you half-dressed and flushed on his bed, but for losing control…For being too much.

“I see those cogs turning in your head. Your brows are furrowing. Stop thinking for a second, and just look at me Bob.” You said, breaking through the thoughts that kept racing through his head, wrapping your arms around his waist. Bob let out a soft sigh, bringing his gaze down to yours. His hands hovered over your back for a moment before slowly coming to rest against your skin, holding onto you like he was afraid you were going to crack.

“…I truly didn’t mean to do that…” He murmured, motioning to the window, “I didn’t even think about it...It just happened.” You turned slightly in his arms, glancing back at the window for a split second, then returning your gaze back to him. You tilted your head up, brushing your lips softly against the underside of his jaw, feeling the beginnings of stubble.

”Pretty sure it’s bulletproof glass too, by the way.” He blinked down at you, his cheeks flushing a deeper red, confused at the statement, and at the way you were smirking up at him, “I must’ve really gotten you going.” You added, trying to lighten the mood. A groan caught in his throat.

”Please…Don’t say that.” He whispered under his breath.

”Why not? It’s kind of hot.” Bob’s eyebrows raised at your comment, letting out a quiet laugh–embarrassed, and flustered, but undeniably touched by the way you were trying to make light of the situation.

”You know…I think you should actually be a little freaked out by this at least,” He stated gently, pulling back just a little bit so the both of you could comfortably look at each other, “I mean…We didn’t even…Do anything and I…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, as he ran his hands along your back, “I’m just saying if I lost that much control just f-from grinding against you, what’s going to happen when we have sex?” He added, his voice laced with worry. You traced your fingers along his spine as you listened, feeling his chest rising and falling against you, the panic simmering underneath all the tension in his muscles. You leaned into him a bit more.

”Well…You don’t really use your powers all that much, Bob.” He raised his eyebrows at you, surprised by what you were possibly suggesting. You continued, gently brushing your thumbs along the hem of his shirt.

“Maybe that’s part of the problem. You’ve been bottling all that energy up without giving yourself a way to release it. Maybe you need to exhaust your powers a little–practice, push yourself in a safe space so you can figure out where the edges are. Then maybe…” You paused mid-sentence, reaching up to him to push his hair off his forehead, “You won’t have to worry about breaking any more windows.” He bit the inside of his cheek, feeling your fingertips trailing down the side of his face to hold his jaw.

“Or…” You added thoughtfully, “We could try some small exercises together. I know there are grounding techniques for people with telekinesis or energy-based mutations–things to help hone it and redirect it before it builds up too much.”

Bob was staring at you now like you were the only stable piece of land in a world that kept shaking under his feet. You ran your thumb along the slight roughness of his jaw, taking in the warmth of his skin.

“Either way,” You said, “We can figure it out together.”

His breath caught in his throat.

“Together,” He repeated, almost like he was testing the weight of the suggestion in his mouth, making sure it was real. His hands gripped you just a little tighter, like he didn’t want to let go, admiring the fact that you were even sticking it out with him.

“And maybe next time,” You whispered, pressing a featherlight kiss to the corner of his mouth, “You’ll crack something a little less expensive.”

That made him laugh for real this time–a breathy, bashful sound as he rested his forehead against yours. “No more windows,” He whispered. “I promise.” You swayed in your spot for a moment relishing in the silence, as your hearts thudded against each other like it shared the same rhythm.

“…Maybe just the bedframe,” He mumbled a second later–so quietly you almost missed it.

There was a pause.

Then his eyes went wide, his entire face lighting up scarlet as the implication hit him a split second too late. “Oh my god,” He breathed, “I didn’t mean—shit—I mean I did but I—”

You broke into laughter, the sound bursting out of you like sunlight, catching yourself against his chest as your shoulders shook. “Robert Reynolds,” You gasped through your giggles, “I didn’t take you as a person to make a sex joke like that…I like it.”

——————

Yelena snapped her fingers in front of your face.

”Helloooo? Earth to Y/N…You’ve been zoned out for like ten minutes, are you concussed or something?” You shook your head, snapping yourself out of your trance, noticing your palms were sweaty, and your pulse was pounding in your head.

”Sorry…I’m fine, I was just thinking about that last round in my head. Trying to figure out how I let my ass hit the mat again.” You lied, grabbing your water bottle, attempting to cool yourself down.

”Uh-huh…” Yelena muttered, clearly not buying it.

Bucky was watching you as well, his expression unreadable as usual, his elbow still propped on his knee. His eyes were sharper now, completely focused.

”Maybe we should wrap it up for the day, I’ve got to go pick up a few things from my old apartment anyways, the renters are getting mad that I haven’t swung by yet.” You looked over at Yelena, who stretched her legs out with a low groan.

“Alright, that sounds fine to me.” She responded, getting up from the bench, cracking her neck before walking to the lockers, leaving you and Bucky alone. You let out a soft exhale, grateful that the plug had been pulled. You were too distracted to go for another round anyways.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” You glanced up at Bucky, your eyes meeting his gaze. There was no judgement in his face, just quiet concern. You nodded.

”Yeah, I promise, I just spaced out.” He watched you for just a moment longer, like he was trying to see if you had any tells of a lie.

”Alright,” He said, turning to grab his towel from the bench, “But if you ever want to talk, you know where I am.” You gave him a soft smile.

”Thanks, Buck.” He lingered for a second longer, then gave a quick salute and headed off after Yelena, leaving you alone. You stayed on the bench for a few minutes, gathering your thoughts and swatting around the brain fog that clouded your mind, before finally standing, feeling your muscles groan in protest.

You collected your things and caught a quick shower before making your way back to your room, expecting to divulge the line of questioning that Yelena had for you to Bob, but when you opened the door he wasn’t there. Your brows furrowed in disappointment as you stepped into the room, noticing a little note on his bed. You dropped your bag on the floor, picking up the scrap piece of paper that had his messy handwriting scrawled on it.

“Meet me on the roof, wear a sweater.” You were confused about the sweater part, but you still dug around for one, slipping it over your head once you found one that wasn’t already worn.

———

The rooftop greeted you with silence, except for the low hum of wind and the muffled buzz of distant traffic below. You stepped out slowly, your sweater wrapped tight around your arms, the door clicking shut behind you.

Bob was already there, standing near the edge, hunched slightly, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders curled in like he was bracing against the cold—or maybe against himself. The soft yellow glow from the rooftop security lights carved gentle shadows across his back, catching in his wind blown hair.

“You okay?” You called out, walking towards him, gaining his attention instantly. A small smile came up on his lips, as he wrung his hands together, like he was excited about something.

“I am now,” He responded, meeting you halfway. There was something different about him tonight, he still had that shy uncertainty about him, but it was like he was pushing it off a bit, replacing it with something more…Confident, “I wanted to show you something, if that’s alright of course.” He added stepping into your space, now close enough that his breath was fanning over your face. You tilted your head at him, squinting playfully.

”Are you going to crack all the windows from up here?” Bob let out a soft, breathy laugh, shaking his head as a pink flush creeped up the sides of his neck.

”I promised you I wouldn’t break any more windows, and I will keep my word.” Before you could press further, he stepped closer, closing the last inch of space between you, wrapping his arms tightly around your back. It wasn’t hurried or anything, just grounding, and it was done with intention. You inhaled against his chest, the scent of cold air and warm cotton surrounding you as he ducked his head and pressed a kiss to your lips–soft, and gentle, yet brimming with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He pulled back for one moment, before adding one more peck against your lips, a smile draped across his mouth.

His arms hadn’t loosened around you, and you could feel the steady thumping of his heart under your hands where they rested against his chest.

”Okay…” You murmured, brows lifting at him, feeling your cheeks growing hot under his stare, and from the gentle kiss he had given you, “Now you really need to tell me what’s got you in such a chipper mood. You’re smiling like you’ve got a secret, and it’s starting to freak me out.” Bob’s grin widened–shy, crooked, but deeply earnest. You squinted at him a bit, catching little flecks of gold sparkling in the blues of his eyes.

”Just hold still,” He whispered, voice hushed and warm, “And I’ll show you.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he tightened his arms around you, like he was locking you into place against his chest.

Then you felt it.

A strange, delicate lift in your stomach, similar to how it feels when you’re descending on a roller coaster, only just a little more tolerable. The pressure in your knees disappeared, your weight lessened…And your boots weren’t on the rooftop anymore.

”Bob…?” You said, your voice filling with panic.

”Shh, I’ve got you,” He murmured, eyes fixating on yours, “Just trust me.” He whispered. You took in a sharp breath, and nodded. The movement wasn’t fast or jarring. It felt like being exhaled by the Earth–like rising through a warm, invisible current. The wind tugged gently at your sweater, and your breath caught in your throat as you instinctively brought yourself even closer to him, not daring to look down to see how high up you were.

“Holy shit Bob, we’re flying…” You said, your voice shaking, caught between fear and awe.

”Well technically I’m flying, and you’re just one of my lucky passengers. My first and only to be exact.” He corrected jokingly, you smirked at him, continuing to look over his face. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, as the air around you thickened, warming against your cheeks despite the altitude change. You felt like you were suspended in a dream–held against him, hundreds of feet off the ground, with only starlight above you, and a glittering city below.

“How does it feel?” You asked softly, seeing Bob blink down at you, eyes soft and uncertain, “To have all this power…” You added, your hand slowly unraveling from holding onto his hoodie, splaying it across his chest instead, rubbing along the warmth with a soft smile draped on your lips, “To be able to do this–to lift me off the ground, to break windows without touching them, to float above the world like it’s nothing…” The way you looked up at him–half curious, half lust driven–made something buzz in his bloodstream, something golden and chaotic, and desperate for attention as he felt your fingers trailing up the side of his neck.

Bob swallowed thickly, his arms tightening around your waist even more, his breath hitching as he let out a faint nervous laugh before glancing down at you, seeing your face glowing softly from the city lights that reflected in your eyes.

”It’s…Intense. I constantly have this noise in my head, like it’s trying to break out, and I’m always on edge trying to suppress it…But when you’re around, and you’re able to block it…I have those moments of peace, and I love it…So much Y/N.” He emphasized, as your fingers curled gently into the collar of his hoodie, while your other hand cupped his jaw, brushing your thumb over his cheek.

”You know…I wish you could see yourself the way I do,” You whispered, your voice nearly lost in the hush of the night, “The way you handle everything, the way you care about being gentle, the way you hold back even when you could easily just let go…” You went on, looking up at him with such admiration it made him gulp down the lump that was forming in his throat, “You’re just incredible Bob…And I wish you believed that more often.” Bob’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, like he needed to steady himself from the weight of your words, and when he opened them again, they shimmered with something so raw and fragile it made your heart ache.

“No one’s ever said anything like that to me before,” He laughed softly, but there was no humor in it, just disbelief. “It feels like…You’re seeing someone I want to be. Someone I wish I was.” You reached up with your other hand now, pressing it against his cheek.

”You already are.” You whispered, a soft smile coming up onto your lips, as your eyes trailed over his face.

Bob leaned forward, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath warming your skin as it mingled with the air that kissed your face. For a long moment, he didn’t speak, he just held you close, taking in the night for what it was giving him so far. His fingers twitched against your lower back, like he was trying to figure out what he was going to say next.

“Can I ask you something…Kind of dumb?” Your lips quirked at his words, blinking up at him.

”There’s no dumb questions…Go ahead and ask.” He let out a nervous breath of a laugh, pulling his forehead off yours so he could get a better look at you, shaking his head a bit as if he was trying to psych himself up.

”I’ve been…Thinking for the past couple of days…And if it’s too soon or too much just–just tell me okay? I can handle it, I promise.” He started, stuttering through his words.

”Okay, “ You whispered, already feeling your heart climbing into your throat, seeing the way he looked at you with such hope, terror, and utter sincerity. He glanced away for a second, feeling his cheeks flushing hot.

“I was wondering if maybe–if it’s something you’d want–if I could, um…” He cleared his throat, then bit the inside of his cheek, finally whispering, “If I could make love to you tonight.” When the words fell from his mouth it felt like the sky was going to split open and swallow him whole, but he meant every word he said, and you could tell it was something that he wanted to make sure you wanted as well.

”I’ve been wanting to ask that for a while now, but I didn’t want to ruin anything or scare you off, or…” His voice faded, as he stopped himself from embarrassing himself any further, “God, I sound like an idiot.” He whispered. You shook your head, cradling his face in your hands, gently tilting his head down so you could look into those soft blue eyes.

”Bob…” You whispered, “You don’t sound like an idiot at all…You sound like someone who cares about me. A lot.” His lips parted like he wanted to protest, but the words never came. You leaned in, brushing your nose against his, “And that’s never something to be ashamed of.” His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as he trembled from the gust of wind that blew by the both of you, and from the nerves that prickled throughout his body.

”I just…” He started, swallowing another lump that began to form in his throat, feeling like he was on the brink of tears, “I’ve never done it like this before…Where it actually means something…Where I feel…So much that it scares the crap out of me.” You pressed your lips together tightly, removing one of your hands from his face.

”Hold me with one arm, I want you to give me one of your hands.” You instructed, and he obliged immediately, keeping you flush against him and giving you his other hand like you requested. You took it and brought it to your chest, laying it gently over your heart.

”Do you feel that?” You whispered, watching him nod slowly, his palm splaying flat over the pounding rhythm the shook the cavity of your chest, “That’s how I feel when I look at you…When you smile at me, when you hold me…When you ask me things like this, with all these nerves going through you…And that’s also how I’m going to feel when we make love tonight.” You added, feeling Bob’s breath hitch in his throat, and for a second he didn’t move. You thought you put him into shock, but then his fingers curled ever so slightly against your skin, like he was tethering himself to you.

”I wanna be good for you.” He replied, his voice breaking around the edges, “I want to be everything you deserve…I want to take my time…I want to see what you look like when you fall apart because of me, and I want to memorize every sound you make and every place you like to be touched and–and I want to hold you through all of it.” Your eyes softened at his words, feeling your heart folding at the edges from the way he said it with such trembling devotion, like he was offering you everything he had without knowing if it would be enough for you.

”I wouldn’t want it any other way Bob…” He breathed out slowly like he’d been holding it for minutes, like your answer reached someplace deep inside him he didn’t know was waiting to be filled. A small, shaky smile tugged at his lips.

“Okay,” He whispered. “Okay.”

You felt his arms shift, the weight of the wind returning to your skin, and together—slow and gentle—you began to drift back down. The city lights rose to meet you, the rooftop coming back into focus beneath your boots. He didn’t let go. Not even once. His hand stayed tucked between your shoulder blades, warm and steady, like he didn’t trust gravity alone to carry you safely.

The moment your feet touched solid ground again, you didn’t speak. You just stood there for a second, forehead still brushing his, eyes locked and dazed with something fragile and full and beautiful. And then you kissed him.

It wasn’t rushed–it wasn’t even desperate…It was just full. Full of promise. Of understanding. Of anticipation humming low in both your bellies. His hand cupped the side of your face so delicately it made your knees weaken, and when he pulled back, you didn’t have to say a word. You just reached for his fingers and laced yours through them.

“Come inside with me,” You said quietly.

And he followed instantly.

————

You left the light on before you went up to the roof, so when the both of you stepped into your shared quarters, the soft yellow hue of the lamp greeted you with open arms and warmed your skin almost instantly.

Bob closed the door behind him with a soft click, the quiet thud echoing between your beds like a held breath. You stepped into the space between them, turning to face him slowly, your hands sliding up to push your hair from your face. His eyes followed the motion, catching every shift of your body like he didn’t want to miss a second, his fingers fumbling with the edge of his hoodie.

“H-How do you want to start?” He asked quietly, his voice threadbare with nerves. All confidence from the roof had dwindled pretty quickly once the reality of the situation really settled in, and now he could feel his chest tightening from the thought of what was going to come next. You could see it in the way he fumbled with whatever he could get his fingers on, it was the most obvious tell of his. You stepped toward him carefully, and held your hand out like you normally did with him.

”Come here,” You whispered. Bob didn’t hesitate this time around, taking a few steps towards you until you could curl your fingers around the hem of his hoodie, slipping your hands under the soft fabric so you could touch his burning skin. His jaw clenched for a moment at first contact, his lashes fluttering at the featherlight touch you always used with him. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, letting out a shaky breath against your mouth.

”We don’t have to start any particular way,” You murmured, “Just be here with me…” Bob gave a slow, trembling nod, bringing his hands to your waist. You leaned forward a bit, pressing your lips against his, taking his breath away in one quick moment of time. You could feel his shoulders loosen a little, as he sighed into you, his fingers squeezing your clothed flesh gently, pulling your body closer to his. You broke the kiss first, removing your sweater quickly because you were growing warm extremely quickly, just like Bob you ran hot, but only when you were anticipating something, and this was definitely something you were looking forward to.

You threw the sweater to the side with a sigh, pushing your hair out of your face again as you adjusted yourself, seeing Bob’s eyes following your movements, and tracing over the skin that was revealed to him. The light camisole you wore hugged your figure just enough that he could make out the subtle shape of your breasts beneath it, and in the dimmed hue of the room he could see the way your nipples pebbled against the fabric. Before he could even stop himself, his fingers curled under the hem of the covering.

”Can I…?” His voice trailed off, looking down at you with dazed eyes. You nodded immediately, raising your arms up slightly, feeling the way he peeled the fabric up gently, wanting to drink in every inch of newly exposed skin. He slipped the camisole off you, throwing it to the side to join your sweater now, as his eyes returned to your bare chest.

For a second, it was like he didn’t breathe. His mouth parted slightly, and a stunned silence stretched between you before he managed to snap himself out of the trance your breasts had put him in, clearing his throat.

”You’re so…Beautiful. I mean–I already told you that, but seeing you like this–“ He cut himself off, looking down at himself, flustered, “Makes me feel overdressed.” You let out a small giggle, seeing the blush that crowded his face turn an even deeper red.

”Definitely overdressed.” You agreed, keeping your tone light, coaxing a nervous laugh from him. He ducked his head with a shy huff of breath, his hair falling into his eyes.

”S-Sorry. Didn’t mean to get ahead of myself, I just–“

“Hey,” You interrupted, reaching up to cup his face with both hands, forcing his gaze to stay on yours–his pupils already blown out from seeing your bare chest– as you ran your thumbs along his cheeks, “It’s okay…I like when you know what you want and ask for it. I also don’t mind being underdressed in front of you anyways. You don’t have to apologize, okay?” His lashes fluttered at you, as the tension in his shoulders melted just a little.

“Okay…” He whispered back, giving you a small nod, glancing down at himself. He pulled away from your touch, and with shaky hands, he reached for the zipper of his hoodie, tugging it down before peeling the garment off his arms and shoulders, letting it land in the soft pile of clothes that began to grow at your feet. You watched the slow rise and fall of his chest as he hesitated for only a second more before pulling his plain grey t-shirt off as well, letting it join the abyss below.

The second the fabric cleared his torso, your hands were on him–warm palms pressing against bare skin, tracing up along his ribs and over the planes of his chest, feeling the muscles contract beneath your touch, before bringing them up to rest at his neck. You pulled him down to you, fingers curling into his hair gently, as his lips met yours. The kiss this time was deeper–hungrier and desperate. He opened his mouth to you, feeling your tongue slip in, as your bodies aligned with each other again.

His hand slid up along your side, tracing over your ribs, until it found the curve of your breast, cupping it gently within his large palm. You let out a small moan of approval, your hips shifting slightly at the sensation and shivers that twinged up your spine. His thumb dragged over your nipple, circling it slowly before giving the flesh a soft and careful squeeze, not wanting to be too rough at first, drawing out a hum from you, and another gentle pull of his hair.

Bob pulled away from the kiss with a shaky smile, before peppering kisses along your jaw, and down your neck, carving out a wet path all the way to your chest, going to the breast that he wasn’t kneading with his hand still. His lips brushed over your nipple, testing, and teasing, waiting until you leaned toward him to close his mouth around it. A soft moan escaped the both of you, his breath warm and uneven against your skin as he sucked gently, his tongue moving in slow circles before fluttering along the peak. His other hand continued to palm and knead the other one, fingers teasing until both nipples were stiff beneath his attention. He switched sides, not wanting to neglect the other one, which earned another shocked gasp, feeling how more needy he was growing as he greedily sucked and nibbled. Your fingers laced deeper into his hair, trying to ground yourself when you felt your stomach somersaulting from the sensation of his tongue and mouth working in tandem together. Your words spilled out before you could really think–

“Jesus, Bob…” The moment you spoke he froze, pulling off your nipple with a soft, wet pop, lips shiny and slightly parted as he looked up at you. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes–God, his eyes–were wide and hazy, like he was drunk on you and the taste of your skin.

“Are…Are you okay?” You nodded immediately.

”More than okay.” You replied, as your fingers slid out from his hair to trail down his chest, moving with slow precision as you found the tie at the waistband of his sweatpants, keeping your gaze locked on his. You made quick work of it, undoing the knot in one swift pull before pushing at the fabric so it shifted down his hips, exposing more and more skin to you. He straightened up a little, taking his hand off your breast to push them off his legs completely, kicking them off to the side before mirroring your actions–going for your sweatpants too.

He bent down slightly to push them down your legs, and you took the opportunity to steal a quick kiss from him, catching him off guard. The both of you broke into soft laughter, easing your nerves a bit. Once the sweatpants hit the ground you kicked them off your feet, letting them be banished with the rest of your clothes.

Now in just your underwear, the air between the both of you was thick with anticipation. Your breathing slowed, and deepend, syncing with his as he took you in–really absorbing every inch of skin he could see, battle wounds and all–his gaze lingering everywhere. You let your gaze fall for a moment, catching the shape of him beneath the soft cotton of his boxers. His erection was unmistakable, full and straining against the fabric, the outline was thick and defined, which made you nervous, but also excited. The image alone sent a pulse through your belly, and made your toes curl.

When you looked back up at him, he wasn’t staring at your body anymore, he was watching your face. His expression was so open, so filled with awe and admiration that it nearly made your breath catch in your chest. He reached out, his fingers gently cupping your jaw, his thumb running over the skin, before leaning in to press another kiss to your lips, savouring the moment with a sigh.

Then, without saying a word his hand slipped from your face and slid around your back, while his other arm slid under your thighs, lifting you to him with ease. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he carried you the short distance to his bed, throwing the duvet down to the foot of the bed, before lowering you down onto the cool sheets, letting the mattress form around your figure, pushing you up a bit so he could get on top of you.

Bob settled between your thighs with the softest exhale, like he was afraid to ruin the moment by moving too quickly. His knees sank into the mattress, feeling the way your legs guided him closer to you. His hands remained gentle–one braced beside your head, the other holding the side of your hip, absentmindedly tracing circles along it with his thumb.

You tilted your face up to him, and he dipped his head to meet your lips once again. The kiss was slower this time, deep with care and tenderness. You kissed him back with the heat of a thousand suns, your fingers slipping into his hair, pulling him a little closer as your body arched up into his. His hand on your hip drifted up your side, tickling your ribs with the ghosts of his fingertips, letting the intimacy of the moment wrap around you like a second skin.

Then, he pulled back slightly, just far enough to look at you–eyes searching, lips still parted, breath uneven against your mouth. He hesitated for a moment, his thumb brushing idly over your ribs before he finally spoke.

”I-I want to go down on you,” He said quietly, as if the words were sacred to him. His voice was shaky, but you could tell it was just from the nerves that were pulsing through him in those moments, “I want to…Take care of you first…Want to show you how much I’ve been thinking about this…How much I’ve been thinking about you…If that’s okay?” Your heart thudded so loudly in your chest you swore he could hear it. The look on his face–open, vulnerable–was enough to make your breath catch. His words wrapped around you with such warmth that it rooted deep in your body.

You reached up, your fingers curling around the back of his neck, as you whispered.

”That’s more than okay.” He swallowed hard, and then nodded, giving you a small kiss, before drifting down your skin, his lips reaching every inch of you, peppering wet little marks across you, committing every detail to memory. Your hands drifted to his shoulders, brushing across the solid muscles of his back. He kissed your chest, then your ribs, all the way until he reached the edge of your underwear. He paused, lifting his gaze to yours again, just to be sure.

You gave him a small nod, watching his fingers hook under the fabric. He pulled the fabric down your hips, and thighs, as you helped him by pulling each leg out for him. He let out a sigh, looking at your completely bare figure beneath him now, his bottom lip slipping between his teeth for a brief moment before returning to where he was moments ago, putting your legs over his shoulders.

Bob leaned forward, brushing his mouth along your inner thigh, peppering kisses along the skin, memorizing the taste of your skin, inching closer and closer to where you needed him the most. By the time he reached your core, you could feel your whole body pulsing against him, thrumming with anticipation and desperation.

When he finally brought his mouth to your core, he slowly licked upwards, wanting to savour the first time he got to actually taste you. The feeling of it caught you off guard, which drew a soft moan from your lips–broken and boarding on a whimper. His hands tightened at your thighs, holding you closer to him as he licked you again–more firmly this time–his tongue parting you gently, working up to circle around your clit without touching it quite yet. You closed your eyes tightly, reaching down to lace into his soft brown strands of hair. You could feel his eyes on you, watching every reaction that he coaxed out of you. When his mouth finally closed around your clit, your fingers in his hair tightened, hips rolling into him with a gasp.

“F-Fuck…Bob.” You choked out, and that was all he needed.

He groaned softly in response–just hearing your voice sounding so wrecked like that almost destroyed him–and he settled deeper between your thighs. He dragged his tongue in slow, deliberate strokes, curling it just right at the tip, then flicking it softly against you until your legs trembled around him. He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking gently, then swirling his tongue with practiced rhythm, giving you just enough then pulling back slightly to tease again, letting you chase the pressure.

Your back arched off the bed slightly, your breath catching in your throat.

”You…Holy fuck Bob…” You whined, not being able to find the words in your vocabulary because your brain was melting from the intense pressure that was building in your stomach. The way you said his name had him clutching at your thighs tighter, grounding himself as he buried his face against you more, like a man starved. He moaned softly, sending another wave of heat through your core, the vibration making you gasp. His tongue flicked, circled, and flattened, lavishing you with such deliberate devotions which drew you closer and closer to the edge.

He shifted slightly, and took one of his hands off your hip, bringing it between your thighs as he adjusted his other hand so it was splayed out along your belly. He traced his fingers through your wetness, dragging two of them along your entrance, teasing for just a second before gently slipping them inside. You bit your lip, suppressing a moan as you looked down at him, seeing how focused he was on pleasing you, his eyes glistening with such intensity that you felt like you were going to die.

His fingers moved slowly at first, letting you adjust to the slight stretch they provided, before curling them slightly, finding the spot inside you that made your back arch off the bed, crying out as your legs tightened around his head. He didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate, he just groaned again, like your pleasure was the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Oh my god–Bob–Bob please don’t stop…Don’t stop.” You begged, your voice breathless, and trembling on every syllable. Your fingers gripped his hair even tighter, as you felt the orgasm cresting with a pressure so intense it stole the air from your lungs. Your body was unraveling, and your muscles were tightening like a wire drawn taut. He felt it–he felt the way your walls began to pulse around his fingers, the way your hips started to jerk–and he doubled down, curling his fingers harder, sucking your clit in time with your shattering moans.

“Come for me,” He whispered against you, voice wrecked, barely audible but so sure. “Please. I want to feel it.” You broke apart beneath him with a cry, your thighs clamping around his head as your body seized, pleasure rocketing through you in waves so intense they left your limbs shaking. Your core pulsed around his fingers, your back arching off the mattress as you rode out the release, breath stuttering through sobs of ecstasy.

Bob held you through it, fingers still moving slowly inside you as his mouth gently eased off, switching to open-mouthed kisses along your thighs, grounding you, kissing you through the aftershocks. He watched your body tremble beneath him, his own breath ragged with awe.

Finally, when you dropped back onto the mattress with a long, shaky sigh, he pulled his fingers from you slowly, kissing your hip one more time before crawling up over your body. His skin was flushed, his mouth was wet and glistening with your arousal, and his eyes were glazed and dark with want–but there was so much tenderness in his face that it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, before pulling back to caress your cheek, his thumb running just below your eye.

”Are you okay? Did I–“ You cupped his face, and pulled him back down to you, kissing him again, interrupting the words that were about to fall out of his mouth. He let a soft moan against your lips, before you slowly pulled back.

”You did…Absolutely amazing Bob. So fucking amazing.” Bob’s breath hitched the moment you said it, and you watched the praise ripple through him like a tide, flooding his expression with something raw and deeply earnest. He looked almost overwhelmed, like he didn’t know what to do with that kind of affirmation, but he was appreciative of it regardless.

You gave him a second to breathe, brushing his hair back gently from his flushed forehead as he hovered over you, gaze still fixed on your face like he couldn’t believe you were real.

Then you tilted your head toward his ear, your voice soft and steady.

“My turn.”

Bob blinked, his lips parting slightly. “Y-You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” You cut him off gently, placing your palms on his chest and guiding him down onto his back. “I really want to.”

He let you maneuver him without resistance, collapsing onto the pillows as you crawled over him, straddling his thighs with slow, deliberate movements that kept his eyes trained on you. Your fingers trailed down his torso, grazing the firm lines of his chest and stomach, watching as his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

When you shifted lower, reaching for the waistband of his boxers, he let out a sharp breath.

“Wait—” He said quickly, sitting up on one elbow, using his other hand to catch your wrist. “I–shit–I want you to just–just use your hands, okay?” You blinked at him, a little surprised by the request and the sudden interruption.

“Why?” You asked gently. His face flushed harder, eyes dropping to the sheets for a second before he met your gaze again, voice low and a little sheepish.

”Because I’m gonna end up finishing too fast if you use your mouth..And I don’t want to finish unless it’s inside you.” He admitted, his breath unsteady. Your thighs flinched at his words, leaving you staggered. You weren’t expecting it, not from him. Not from soft-spoken, anxious, stammering Bob…But then again he had just given you the best orgasm in the world…So he did have a bit more of a wilder side to him that evidently he only reserved for you at this point.

”…Okay.” You whispered, leaning in to kiss him once more, before easing down his body again. Your fingers curled into the waistband of his boxers, and you eased them down his hips, eyes never leaving his as you exposed him to the cool air. His cock was thick and flushed, twitching slightly with need, already glistening at the tip with precum. The sight of him made your mouth go dry, and your stomach turn. You wrapped your fingers around him slowly, watching the way his jaw tightened at your touch, his head falling back against the pillow with a soft moan. Your hand moved in slow, steady strokes, twisting gently at the tip, your palm slick from how worked up he already was.

“Oh…Oh god you’re going to ruin me.” He rasped, breathlessly. You leaned over him, your free hand braced against his chest as you shifted to straddle his thighs properly. The weight of you over him made his eyes flutter open again. His hands went to your hips, as if just having you there made him feel steadier. Then without warning, he looked up at you with glassy eyes and spoke.

“C-Can I sit up against the headboard?” His voice was rough with need, but still gentle—like he didn’t want to disrupt the closeness, only deepen it.

You nodded immediately, helping guide him as he adjusted, both of you moving slowly so nothing between you was rushed. You cradled his shoulders as he shifted upward, his back settling against the cold wood of the headboard with a relieved exhale. The lamp’s soft glow painted his chest in gold, and his hair was a little messy from where your fingers had run through it, his mouth still parted as he looked at you with awe.

You straddled his lap again, keeping one hand wrapped around the base of him as he pulled you closer again. His head tilted forward and he pressed warm, open-mouthed kisses to your chest, lips finding your breast again like he needed it, sucking gently over the flesh, making sure to leave a mark before pausing to let his breath fan across your skin. All the while, your hand kept moving—slow, slick, steady. You felt him throb in your palm, the heat of him pulsing like a second heartbeat. You could hear him panting, but he didn’t tell you to stop, so you continued until he pulled back from your chest completely, his pupils blown wide with something molten in his expression.

”Y/N, spit in my mouth…” He whispered, “I want all of you…I want everything. I want you in every part of me…Please.” He added, his voice on the edge of a whimper. Your breath caught at his words, not from surprise or shock but from the vulnerability the words had to them. His need wasn’t crude…It was devotional, like it was the only way he knew how to show you how dedicated he was.

You nodded once, slowly, with your eyes locked on his. Your free hand came up to cradle his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly beneath his eye before gently tilting his head back, exposing his throat to you. He kept his gaze on you, wide-eyed and trembling as you leaned over him, still stroking his cock while doing so.

With your lips parted and breath warm, you let a slow, steady thread of saliva slip from your mouth–down past his lips and onto his waiting tongue. He didn’t flinch, he just accepted it with a shuddering breath, swallowing it right when it made contact. A flush bloomed even more across his neck and chest. You smiled down at him, seeing how satisfied he looked. He took a deep breath, then surged forward, one arm wrapping around your waist as he kissed you, open and warm, with his lips parting against yours like he wanted to thank you with his whole body.

You deepened the kiss, your chest pressing flush to his as he held you in his lap, the heat of his body radiating against yours like a shell. His hands roamed over your back, your waist, everywhere he could reach, but it wasn’t frantic—it was gentle and slow, like he was memorizing you by feeling alone. And then you pulled back, just enough to speak, your lips barely brushing his.

“I need you inside me.”

The words left you in a whisper, but they hit him like a lightning strike. Bob’s breath stuttered, and his eyes fluttered open to meet yours—glazed, dazed, and swimming in something so deep it made your spine curl. He nodded, a little frantic, the motion jerky as he grasped at your hips again, steadying you, grounding himself.

“You sure?” He asked, drawing his brows together, his voice hoarse, wanting to be sure you were on board with this completely. You nodded, kissing him one more time.

”Never been more sure.” You adjusted your hips with care, steadying yourself as you guided him to your entrance, the tip of him hot and slick against you. Bob’s breath hitched, his fingers flexing hard at your waist as he tried to hold himself still, trying not to rush you. You watched his jaw tense, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you slowly began to sink down onto him, inch by inch, until he filled you completely.

The stretch made your thighs tremble and your breath catch, and Bob let out a strangled groan that vibrated through his whole chest. His head fell back against the headboard with a soft thump, eyes fluttering closed as he murmured something that sounded like your name paired with the words oh my God. You sat there a moment, your hands planted on his chest, letting your bodies adjust, feeling the twitch of him inside you, the way he was already pulsing with restraint.

And then you began to move.

It was slow at first, just the tiniest grind of your hips forward and back, your slick heat stroking along his length. His eyes cracked open, dazed and glassy, like he couldn’t believe this was real. He brought his hands to your hips, guiding you gently, letting you take what you needed at your own pace, and in your own way.

You moved together like a heartbeat–slow, steady, with increasing intensity.

Bob’s hands slid up your back, then down again to cup your ass, helping you ride him deeper, pushing you just enough to make your breath hitch with every descent. His moans became more frequent, low and helpless against your skin, and he whispered your name like a prayer, again and again, until it bled into the rhythm of your bodies.

“God–you feel so good–so so good,” he rasped against your neck. “I don’t think I can–oh shit–”

Your hips were moving faster now, desperation threading into every motion. The room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, your quiet moans, and his ragged breathing. You felt like you were both on fire—burning, blindingly alive.

And then, suddenly, Bob shifted.

Without warning, he gripped your thighs and flipped you, your back hitting the mattress with a gasp. Before you could say anything, he was there—above you—sliding back into you in one fluid, aching thrust. You cried out, your hands gripping his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, pulling him in closer.

Bob moaned softly, burying his face into your neck as his hips snapped forward with more force now, losing the gentle rhythm he had from before, exchanging it for something deeper, and more primal. One of his hands found yours and squeezed it tight, pressing it against the pillow beside your head, while the other shot out grip the headboard so he could brace himself.

And then the sound hit.

CRACK.

You barely registered it at first–you were too lost in the crescendo building inside your body, the way he filled you so perfectly, the way your name fell from his lips like he was worshiping you with every thrust. But his body shuddered on top of you, his hips jerking erratically now, the pace stuttering as he reached the edge.

“Oh God–God–Y/N–”

He moaned loudly, something close to a gasp punched from his lungs as his hips slammed into you one final time, and his whole body locked up. His hand crushed the top of the headboard–literally splintering the wood under his palm as he came inside you with a broken, breathless cry. You felt the wave of it, the way he pulsed deep inside, the warmth of him spilling into you, and it sent you hurtling over the edge too, your climax crashing through your limbs like a wave snapping every nerve awake. You cried out beneath him, your nails dragging down his back, your body seizing around him.

Bob collapsed, trembling, his forehead pressed to your shoulder, his breath hot and wild against your collarbone. His hair was a complete mess, damp and tangled and wild across your skin. He was heavy and shaking, still buried inside you, both of you locked in the aftermath–too breathless to speak. You could feel his heart pounding against you–where his chest was pressed against yours.

Then slowly, you felt him lift his head from your shoulder, his cheeks a complete crimson now, lips parted as he gazed down at you with those shimmering blue eyes again, like he was trying to comprehend what just happened.

In those moments he leaned forward and kissed you, like he was saying thank you, or maybe he was trying to determine if this really was happening. You kissed him back with the same softness he gave you, your fingers pushing his hair back from his face. He sighed, and pulled back from your lips, his gaze raising slightly. You could see his mouth drop open slightly, and his eyes went wide.

”…What?” You asked, your brows drawing together in confusion. He didn’t answer. Instead, he gently reached up and tilted your chin, guiding your gaze upward–and that’s when you saw it.

A clean, jagged split ran right down the center of the wooden headboard. Splintered and cracked like lightning had struck it from above. Your mouth parted in shock, and for a beat neither of you said anything.

Then you laughed.

It started soft–with disbelief and surprise–but quickly turned into full, breathless giggles that made your body shake. Bob buried his face in your neck again, groaning quietly.

“At least we still have my bed to move to,” You teased, stroking his hair to calm him down from the embarrassment he was probably feeling. “But maybe we should…I don’t know…Get things that don’t break so easily?”

Bob groaned again into your skin, and you could hear the shy smile behind it. “Y-Yeah…Yeah, maybe,” He mumbled, barely audible.

You could feel the heat creeping back into his cheeks.

“Though…” He added after a pause, voice muffled and sheepish, “If sex is always gonna be like that… I-I don’t think it’ll matter what it’s made of…” You smirked, pushing him off his shoulder so you could look at him–and the adorable way he immediately avoided your gaze. Your heart swelled.

“Sounds like a good time to me,” You whispered, brushing his messy hair back from his forehead before pressing a kiss to it.

Eventually, you cleaned yourselves up, and shifted to your bed, sliding in under the fresh sheets, tucking yourselves into each other. Bob curled around you protectively, your bodies bare and warm together, with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, nose buried into your hair. You fell asleep like that–saturated in the safety of each other, breath syncing, hearts still fluttering.

——————

The morning sunlight slipped gently into the room, illuminating the soft gold glow of the lamp you’d forgotten to turn off.

You were the first to stir.

Bob’s arms were still locked around you, holding you like he thought you might disappear. You turned in his embrace, resting your palm against his chest, letting your fingers trace lazy circles along his sternum, and the little scars that he had around that area that were barely noticeable. His eyes fluttered open not long after, blinking slowly until they found yours.

“Morning,” You whispered.

“Hi…” He whispered back, his voice gravelly from, as one hand moved to push your hair out of your face with the backs of his fingers. “You’re still here.”

You smiled. “Of course I am.”

He returned a smile back to you, cupping your cheek gently before leaning in to kiss you–sleepy and sweet, his soft lips barely moving, while his nose brushed against yours. He pulled back slowly, letting his thumb trace your lower lip. You kissed the pad of it, with a sweet smirk.

”I could stay like this forever,” He murmured, trailing his touch down to the side of your neck, taking in the image of you in front of him, making sure he would remember this moment. You tilted your head into his hand, staring up at him with your heart pounding against your chest.

”Me too.” He grinned, just a little. The kind of grin that was half love-drunk and half processing the events that happened last night, then you remembered what you were going to talk to him about yesterday when you came back to the room, before you found his note.

”Hey I was actually going to tell you something when I came back to the room,” You began, already laughing at the story, seeing the way his attention was on you, hanging off of every word “During training yesterday evening, Yelena and Bucky gave me the third degree abo-“ Just as you were about to tell him you heard Yelena’s voice coming from an already opening door.

”Y/N, missed tra-OH MY GOD! HOLY CRAP!” You jolted, the covers pulling up to your chest as Bob yelped and scrambled to sit up behind you, wide-eyed and clutching the sheets. In the doorway, Yelena stood with her hands over her eyes, then immediately turned and bolted out again.

”I KNEW IT! BUCKY I TOLD YOU!” She yelled. The both of you glanced over at each other.

”…I’m assuming they gave you…The third degree about us?” Bob asked, finishing the sentence you were about to say before the interruption.

“Yeah…” You whispered under your breath, trying to suppress a laugh.

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purinfelix · 6 months ago

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── .✦ such a mess together - p. sunghoon

summary: the cute little girl you tutor is always going on about how you should date her smart, good-looking older brother, so why is your annoying, cocky classmate opening the door instead of her? ────── academic rival Sunghoon x reader || sfw, tension, can you tell i love the enemies to lovers trope LOL. || w/c: 3.5k (everyone clap jet is finally writing full length fics !!!)

a/n: ok whos shocked yet another enemies to lovers fic from yours truly - but i cant help that this trope is the most fun to write !!!!!!!

Shocked doesn’t even come close to describing how you feel right now.

You feel as though if you widen your eyes anymore they’ll pop right out of your head, but the thought of him seeing you make such an embarrassing expression forces you to calm yourself. Slowly, he narrows his eyes, clearly not any less confused about this than you are.

“The hell are you doing at my house?” he spits, thick brows furrowed as he looks you up and down.

You’re about to reply with something equally as snarky, but you’re interrupted by a small head popping out from underneath his arm - which is outstretched to hold open the front door.

“You’re here!” Yeji squeals in excitement, ducking past him to throw herself around your waist. You stumble backwards a bit, putting on her head to steady yourself as you laugh softly.

“Hey,” you breathe out, though your eyes don’t leave those of the man in front of you, whose confusion only grows. “I’m here to tutor her,” you say curtly, almost in disbelief that you’d have to spell it out for him this much.

Though it’s not like you’re in much of a position to say much else because, really, you should’ve put the pieces together a long time ago. Being young and uninterested in her studies, Yeji had managed to spend most of your lessons together chatting about her life instead of doing her homework and so you had been told a lot about her - and her mysterious older brother who was rarely around because he was always busy working part-time or studying at university. At the time, you didn’t think twice about the fact that he went to the same university as you or that the times she mentioned him having exams always coincidentally lined up with yours - though now you’re beginning to think maybe you should’ve.

Details like that were easy to forget though, especially when Yeji paid far more attention to the other details about her brother which she deemed far more important. You had spent many afternoons passively listening to her talk about how smart, sweet and tall he was, how he was “practically a prince” - all the while trying to get her to finish her algebra questions. You had even brushed it off when she mentioned that the two of you would make a good couple, and how it was a shame you had never met before.

But Yeji couldn’t have been more wrong, because you actually had met her brother, and far more than you would’ve liked to for that matter. In fact, prior to today, Park Sunghoon had been nothing more than a nuisance in your university life. The one to constantly challenge your points in discussions, to steal your perfect front-row seat or to beat you by a singular mark in final exams. In your eyes, he was nothing but a cocky, good-for-nothing know-it-all who had been unfairly blessed with unnatural good looks which he used to trick your poor female classmates into liking him.

All the details matched up though, times, places, hell they even had the same last name - but it had never occurred to you to put two and two together. Despite this, the shock of the initial realisation pales in comparison to the fact that you now how to continue with your lesson - whilst he sat in the next room over, glaring at you the entire time.

You shifted in your seat nervously, eyes darting between Yeji’s exercise book and the strict gaze of her brother. Seriously, just what was his problem? - you’d never done anything to seriously wrong him, and if you did, you figured the fact that you were helping out his younger sister would be enough of a reason for him to let down his guard for once. But still, he sat there, completely uninterested in the video game he had loaded up as an obvious excuse, eyes locked on you.

The weight of his gaze only made you more anxious and when you brought a hand up to hold your pencil you noticed the slight tremble in it. You couldn’t help but feel irritated, not just at him for being so distracting, but also at yourself for letting him get to you so easily.

“I think he’s looking at you because you’re so pretty,” you heard a small voice mutter beside you catching you off guard. You let out a small laugh, about to calmly tell her to focus on her work but when you raise your eyes to look at her brother in the next room you notice that, for once, he’s avoiding your gaze, clearing his throat out of what almost seems to be nervousness.

“Nice try Yeji, but I think your brother just doesn’t trust my tutoring skills.”

She tilts her head, considering this for a moment - then with the same innocent bluntness as before, she shrugs. "Or maybe he's just grumpy because he got dumped."

A deafening silence falls over the room, and your pencil freezes mid-scratch as you glance up just in time to see Sunghoon's entire expression shift. His eyes widen for the briefest moment before his features twist into something between horror and annoyance. "Yeji," he hisses in warning, eyes shooting daggers at his sister, "shut up."

But it's too late, your interest is piqued and despite the harshness in his tone you can't help the smirk tugging at your lips at the thought of finally having some leverage against him.

"Wait," you say, tilting your head as you look at him, "Park Sunghoon ... got dumped?"

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand across his face. "It wasn't- I didn't-" he stops himself, visibly irritated at the two of you. "That's none of your business."

Yeji, completely unaffected by her brother's obvious distress, hums to herself as she flips a page in her book. "She was really pretty too, she muses, "but she said he was too emotionally unavailable and always busy with school."

You blink in disbelief, then, unable to stop yourself, you laugh. "Shocking," your tone is dripping with sarcasm.

Sunghoon snaps his head towards you, eyes narrowing as if daring you to continue. "What did you say?"

You press your lips together, feigning innocence, but Sunghoon knows you too well for that and his glare only deepens. And for the first time, instead of just irritating you, the sight of him so obviously affected by your words is a little entertaining.

Interesting you think to yourself as you continue with the lesson, now far too aware of how the tension in the air has shifted ever so slightly. He doesn't move from his spot in the other room, or stop staring at you two, but now whenever you look up at him, instead of being able to meet your gaze he quickly looks away, pretending to be occupied with his game. You can't help but find it just a little amusing.

Soon your lesson draws to an end and you begin to pack your materials away into your bag, thanking Yeji for working hard and listening to you - though you're interrupted by a deep rumble in the distance, followed by the sound of light rain. By the time you make it to the front door though, it's gotten much heavier and the plans you had to catch the bus home seem bleak. It isn't like you have much choice though, and you pull your hoodie over your head with a defeated sigh.

"You can't walk home in that," Yeji announces dramatically, clinging to your arm as she looks out at the heavy rain. Suddenly she perks up as if met with a great idea, and turns to her brother - who has been pretending not to listen from the living room. "Hoonie, can you drive her?"

He barely looks up from his phone, though there's a slight delay in his response. "No."

"Why not?" she pouts.

"Not my problem," he mutters.

You roll your eyes, typical you think to yourself as you step towards the door. "It's fine, Yeji, I'll just-"

"You're seriously going to make her walk in this rain?" Yeji cries out as she walks over to her brother on the couch, "What if she gets sick? Then I'll be sad, and when I'm sad I don't do my homework. And if I don't do my homework, I'll fail and when I fail-"

"Fine," Sunghoon groans, rubbing his temple as he pushes himself off the couch in a swift movement. He walks past you, grabbing his keys and twirling them around his finger coolly. "Get in the car before I change my mind," he says sternly.

You narrow your eyes at him and are about to deny his offer but the rain doesn't seem to be stopping anytime soon, and you're not stupid enough to reject a free ride out of pride alone.

"Alright," you sigh, shooting Yeji one last thankful look before following her brother out to his car.

"You live in the dorms on campus, right?" he asks casually. The rain hits the windshields of his car with a harsh rhythm, filling the silence between you two as you get in. The hum of the engine is the only other sound as he pulls out of the driveway, one slender hand lazily resting on the wheel.

"Yeah," you say curtly, not even stopping to wonder how he could've known that. You're too busy holding a grudge against his ability to make every move seem so gracefully effortless, even turning a steering wheel.

You sit stiffly in the passenger seat beside him, eyes fixed straight on the road ahead. You'll admit the car is nicer than you expected - spotless, the faint scent of something clean, a little floral, in the air - but you refuse to acknowledge it, just like you refuse to acknowledge that being here, alone with him, feels weirdly intimate.

It doesn't help that he hasn't said another word since you both got in, not that you were expecting him to, but still - the awkward silence feels heavier than it should. You steal a quick glance at him out of the corner of your eye once the car reaches a red light - only to find that he's already looking at you.

Your breath hitches for just a second, but you recover quickly in hopes that he won’t notice your reaction. “What?” you huff, raising an unimpressed brow.

His eyes turn back to the road just as quickly, expression unreadable as the light turns green. “Nothing.”

You sink back in your seat and the silence resumes, but with its temporary break, you feel compelled to keep up the conversation, even if it means more childish bickering.

“I hope you don’t expect anything in return for this,” you say, turning to face forward again - but your attention piques once you hear a faint noise from him. It’s something you’ve never heard before, something just quiet enough that you almost didn’t hear it over the drumming rain, but you’re glad you did because you swear you just heard Park Sunghoon laugh.

"When have I ever expected anything from you," he spits, but the usual malice in his tone is tinged with amusement.

"I'm just saying, don't think that just because you're doing this for me that anything's going to change," you huff, "if it weren't for Yeji you probably couldn't care less about me anyways."

Sunghoon hums, the corners of his lips twitching as if he's holding back another laugh - he doesn't deny it, which somehow annoys you more than if he had outright agreed. Instead, he just shifts gears smoothly, eyes fixed on the road and you hate the way you find your gaze lingering on his profile for just a little too long.

"You sound disappointed," he muses after a beat.

You scoff defensively, crossing your arms. "Yeah, right." You've always hated how easily he could read you.

He just nods ever so slightly and doesn't press for more but the silence that follows feels a little different now, less tense. You shift in your seat and try to ignore the way your heart is starting to beat just a little too fast or the fact that you're waiting for him to say something.

After a moment, he exhales, fingers tapping the steering wheel. "For the record," he sighs, his tone almost confessional, "I don't not care about you."

You crane your neck, searching his face for any sign that he's messing with you right now, a glint in his eye, his signature cocky smirk - but his expression is again unreadable. Instead, you watch the outline of his jaw shift slightly, almost as if he regrets his words, but he doesn't take it back.

You swallow nervously, unsure entirely of what to do with this new information. "Good to know," you say slowly, looking away before he can see how much that single sentence has affected you.

As you do, you're suddenly desperate for an opportunity to change the topic. "How come this whole time I never knew you had a younger sister?"

"Well it's not exactly like you know much about my personal life," he scoffs - and you have to admit he's right.

"I mean, it's not like you're an open book or anything," you reply, "takes me ages just to figure out what you're thinking half the time with that blank expression. It's hard to believe you and Yeji are even related."

"Right because a guy my age should totally be acting like a middle school girl," he nods mockingly.

"You get what I'm saying," you sigh, going quiet for a minute as you think about what to say next. "She looks up to you a lot, you know," is what you land on, trying to balance your tone between sounding casual and earnest.

You watch as he scoffs, and shakes off your comment with a slight shake of his head. "I'm serious," you say, "she talks about you like you're a superhero or something, even when she complains about you, it's obvious you mean a lot to her."

Even though his expression barely changes, you watch his fingers tighten slightly on the wheel - and the beat of silence before his response is enough to tell you that he's not used to hearing things like this. You find it interesting how even though you're practically complimenting him, he responds as if he's unsettled.

"Whatever, she's young and annoying," he finally mutters - though for the first time, there's no real malice to his tone, only something defensive.

"You're deflecting," you point out. This side of him, the one that's quiet and easily affected by your words, is one you've rarely gotten to see and if you're being completely honest, you're enjoying this far too much to let it go. "I think you like knowing she looks up to you."

He huffs, clearly growing tired of your prying. "And I think you like hearing yourself talk."

You roll your eyes, but before you can shoot back with another remark, he beats you to it. "And whilst we're prying into my personal life, Yeji mentioned something interesting earlier."

You pause, suddenly wary. "Oh?"

He flicks his turn signal on, voice infuriatingly casual. "Apparently, you remind her of my ex."

You feel your stomach lurch, followed quickly by a heat creeping up your face. "Excuse me?" is all you can manage to say.

His lips curl slightly, and it becomes clear that he only mentioned this to see your reaction. "Not in looks or anything," he clarifies, glancing briefly at you before focusing back on the road. "Personality-wise, she said you both have a way of getting under my skin."

You scoff, feeling an odd mix of feeling, irritation and something you don't really want to name. "Wow, should I be flattered or insulted?"

"That depends," he muses, "my ex was kinda terrible."

"Seriously?" you gape, shocked at how bold he's being in sharing this with you, "sounds like you're just butthurt from being dumped."

He actually laughs - fully this time, not just the ghost of a chuckle he let out before. It's still short, and a little quiet, but for some reason it makes your chest tighten.

"Relax," he says, tone laced with amusement, "she wasn't all bad, but she did have this habit of always arguing with me, nitpicking things I did just for the sake of it."

You avoid his gaze, picking up on his signals just a little too quickly. "Sounds familiar," you mutter as you look out the car window at the rain.

You don't need to turn back to know his smirk depends, "Exactly."

The air has shifted completely now. The tension is still there, humming under the surface, but it's now covered by something else - something lighter, more playful, and charged in a way that makes you hyper-aware of how close the two of you are.

Then, just as you think the conversation is over, he speaks again - this time softer, almost absentmindedly.

"But I guess the difference is, I never really cared what she thought of me."

It's such an offhand comment, something he's thrown out just to fill the silence. But something about it sticks to you, lingering in your mind as you nod, unsure of how to respond, and so you don't.

You spot the familiar sight of the dorms approach in the distance and even though you're compelled to feel relieved that this torturous car ride is drawing to an end - a tiny part of you can't help but feel a little disappointed that this seemingly rare opportunity is ending. Swiftly, he pulls up to the front entrance, parking smoothly and effortlessly.

As you move to undo your seatbelt, he stops you once again with his words. "Hey, I hope you're not going to stop tutoring Yeji, by the way," he's turned to face you now, but his eyes are avoiding yours.

You furrow your brows, both at his words and his unusual expression. "Why would I?" you say slowly.

"Well, I mean, I just figured because of me and everything-" he begins to ramble, and it's the first time you've seen him stumble over his words like this.

"Relax, I hate you, not her, remember." You say it in the same teasing tone you've always used for him, but it seems to land heavier than you expected with how he turns back to face the steering wheel, his lips forming a thin line.

You linger for a moment, and something about the air between you feels different - like you're standing on the edge of something neither of you can name. Sunghoon's hand is still resting on the gear shift, his fingers drumming against the leather in a steady rhythm.

"Right," he replies curtly, almost to himself and you can sense just a hint of disappointment in his tone.

You should leave it at that, you know you should. But something about the way he's gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly, or how his jaw is tensed ever so slightly, makes you want to press just a little further.

"Unless," you hum, tilting your head slightly, "you'd actually miss me if I stopped coming around?"

"Yeji would," he replies almost immediately - but you don't miss the way his shoulders go rigid for just a fraction of a second before he speaks.

"You didn't deny it," you smirk.

At this, he finally looks at you and there's something about the way he does it - something heavier than the usual irritation or exasperation you're used to. His gaze lingers, his expression unreadable and for a split second, you wonder if you've pushed too far.

But then, he exhales, something softer flickering across his features before he quickly pulls them back into indifference. "Just get out of my car before I start charging you for emotional distress."

You roll your eyes, but do as he says, reaching for the door handle and pushing it open just as the rain continues to pour outside.

"See you next time, Park," you say, "and drive safe."

"Don't tell me what to do," he huffs, though there's a playful tone in his voice as he smirks at you.

You return his look, satisfied, and finally push the door shut - watching as he shifts into gear, headlights illuminating the street. You know you should get inside and out of the rain immediately but you can’t help but watch as he drives off, heart thrumming in your chest as you find the beaming smile on your face lingering. You shake your heard at yourself, almost as if to shake away your thoughts, before turning to head into the dorm.

What you don’t see though, is the way Sunghoon glances in his rearview mirror one last time before turning away, just to catch a glimpse of you before you do.

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i-like-loserz · 30 days ago

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3 times san waited for your kiss + the 1 time he took it

pairing: san x reader

cw: love-sick!san, soft moments, clueless + adorable sannie, longing, fluff, drunken confessions, kissing, dumb drinking scenarios, attempts at humor, lots of mentions of mingi (he is a rich kid in this lol)

wc: 3.7k

note: i'm excited to post something that isn't just straight smut! ik this one prob wont do as well as my other fics but that's ok, i had so much fun writing it <3 i hope yall enjoy ☺️

what san hears whenever he's around you: ❀ 𑁍 ⟡ ❋ ᯽

masterlist

---

First Time: Spin the Bottle

It felt juvenile playing spin the bottle with his friends. He’s 25 years old, for god’s sake, why should he play something that's all about shy pecks and giggling? That's for kids!

San was even going to say so when Mingi mentioned the game. But then your honeyed voice chimed in, “I’m in.”

So naturally, he immediately agreed with you.

“Yeah, me too, it’ll be fun.”

He strategically found a spot right across from you, but tried to make it seem like a pure accident by pretending like he wanted to sit and talk to Wooyoung (who would’ve stolen the spot as your partner if not for San’s persistent efforts to scoot him over).

So far, Jongho reluctantly pecked Yeosang, Wooyoung and Yunho made the fuck out, and Mingi kissed a girl that San didn’t recognize.

“My turn!” You call out cheerfully, taking hold of the bottle before anyone could protest. Nipping at your bottom lip, you carefully place the bottle on its side before twisting your wrist to spin it. San watches on with anticipation.

As the bottle slows to a stop, he hears the rest of the circle ooh and ahh teasingly, waiting for the show to begin.

He somehow finds enough courage to look at your reaction.

And you seem…relieved?

You smile as you meet his gaze, “Alright, San.” You crawl over to the middle of the circle, “Pucker up!”

Pure excitement rushes through his veins as he meets you in the middle, sitting at just the right height, so you can reach his lips easily. You kneel in front of him and cradle his face in your hands.

Either your hands are a bit chilly, or his face is flushed with heat— all he knows is that all his senses are on fire when you’re this close to him. You look so pretty like this, holding him so gently with your delicate hands, just a few inches from his face.

His eyes flutter closed as you begin to lean closer. He waits to feel your soft lips on his — waits for that moment when you wrap your arms around him and pull him in closer. And he does feel your lips…but on his cheek.

It’s just a quick press before you’re pulling away. He almost sighs pitifully when your hands leave him, too.

The rest of the group grumbles around the two of you in disappointment. And San wants to grumble too, but he’s too embarrassed that he was preparing for an actual kiss that he ends up just silently returning to his seat.

“Lameee,” Mingi calls out, “Kiss him like a MAN! Even Jongho, the most anti-boy-kisser-man, kissed Yeosang during his turn!”

You roll your eyes, unbothered by his heckling. “Whatever, Ming, we don’t all have to make out with our friends because of a stupid grade-school game.”

San pouts internally.

Why not?

Why don’t you want to make out with him even if it’s just for a game?

Mingi saves him the confrontation, “Why not? It’s all for fun.”

“Ok fine, then next time I’ll do it.” You say easily with a shrug.

And that makes San really unhappy.

Next time?!

But what if next time the bottle does a 170-degree spin instead of the 180??

What if Wooyoung, the resident boy-girl-everyone-kisser, gets to feel your lips? Or worse, Mingi??

The thought is too much to handle.

“How about we play a different game?!” He suggests suddenly. His voice comes out a bit louder and more urgent than he meant it to.

Mingi looks at him with a confused expression, “But we’ve only done 4 rounds—“

“A drinking game.” He interrupts, “I’ll give $50 to whoever drinks the most.” Now that gets everyone’s attention.

“Yeah, okay.”

...And that’s the story of how San lost $50 to Yunho and received not a single peck on the lips from you.

—

Second Time: Dropping You Off

San chalked up the first time he missed your kiss to be a simple misunderstanding. Of course, you wouldn’t kiss him during spin the bottle! You wouldn’t kiss anyone in that situation. You’re just respectful like that. Or at least that's what he tells himself to feel better about it.

So he still has hope for himself.

Which is why, a few weeks later, he volunteered to drive you home after bar-hopping with some friends.

San refused to drink that night, determined to find a chance to get you alone. He made the perfect plan:

First, when you're looking like you want to leave, he'd nicely offer to give you a ride home.

Second, he'll be all charming on the way to your place and get you interested in him as more than a friend.

Third, when you get to your place, he'll walk you to the door like a gentleman to say goodbye. Then, finally, he'll ask to see you again, and, hopefully, give you a goodbye kiss to seal the deal.

It's a perfect plan!

And he's already at step two, driving you to your place. (Mingi tried to convince San to let him hitch a ride too, but seeing that his friend’s presence would effectively ruin the perfectly set plan he had to woo you, he paid for Mingi to get an Uber instead…$25 + tip...).

The ride to your place was pretty quiet, which was not according to his plan. But it's to be expected. You’ve both been out for a handful of hours in loud and crowded bars, yelling over the table to talk to your friends until it was time to go to the next spot, so the silence is actually kinda nice after the chaos of the night.

San is grateful that you seem to be content in the silence because he couldn't break it, even if he wanted to. His hands are already nervously gripping at the steering wheel as he tries to calm himself down. It turns out that charming you was a lot easier in his head because now that you're in front of him, he can barely breathe correctly.

Thankfully, the drive was only 15 minutes long before he stopped in front of your place.

"Oh, we're here," you exclaim, perking up on your seat, "I almost fell asleep! Has anyone ever told you that you're a really safe driver? Every turn basically lulled me to sleep." You joke as you collect your belongings (bag and jacket) from your lap.

San nearly blushes from the compliment (except it wasn't a compliment at all, it was just a basic observation. But San took it as a compliment anyway because he likes it when you notice things about him).

"Oh, I just...follow the speed limit and stuff, ha~" He responds.

As he turns away from you and exits the car on his side, he grimaces at himself. San wants to punch himself in the face for saying such a lame thing. No shit?? You're driving, so of course you'd stick to the speed limit, dumba--

As he circles the car to the passenger side, he tries to cool his expression. You smile at him as he opens the door for you and step out. Together you walk to your front door, side-by-side, with the cool evening breeze brushing past your bodies.

At the doorstep, rather than unlocking your door and going in with a quick 'good night' thrown his way, you turn to him instead.

You look up at him, face lit nicely by the porch light, "Thanks for the ride, San."

He nods, "Yeah, of course. Anytime."

"Well..." You look down, adjusting the way your jacket hangs over your arm with pinched fingers. Once you're satisfied with the way it sits, you look back up at him with an expression he can't decipher. You seem expectant of something as you smile up at him.

Maybe you're waiting for him to leave...?

Of course you are! You're just too nice to say it, he thinks to himself.

"Um, I'll let you head in, I guess." He motions towards the door.

"Oh, okay." You nod in understanding. "Have a safe drive back to yours."

"Thanks..."

Even as you unlock and open the door, San stands there for a moment longer, conflicted on whether he should just bite the bullet and ask you out. Well, he kind of ended the conversation when he suggested you go into your house...he facepalms himself internally once again.

"I'll, uh, see you around." He calls out as he makes his way back to his car.

—

Third Time: Makeover

He didn't even realize what you were inviting him to. All he knew was that you wanted to hang out at your house. Alone.

If he had known that he would end up sitting at your vanity with a face full of makeup, he may have reconsidered his hasty involvement.

"I've been trying out different brands of makeup..."

You were talking about something. Something probably awesome because it's you who's interested in it, but he can barely string together the words you say to make them make sense. Not when the breeze sweeps your hair away from your face like this and reveals how your eyes sparkle under the summer sun.

Every word that your lips shape so beautifully is lost to his ears when you smile like that. He wishes it were just you and him at this lunch, but San is only blessed with these few minutes alone with you because Mingi and Yunho are running late. He secretly hopes they never arrive.

"...So I'm looking for someone that can--" San's ears perk up at your words.

"I can do it." He offers immediately.

"Wait, really? You'd be up for that?" You ask earnestly, "You would have to be at my place for a few hours..."

"Yeah, totally."

It's not all bad, though.

Right now, you're sitting close to him -- very close. So close, in fact, he has to spread his legs so you can get right up into his space.

It's starting to make him feel woozy. He hopes you don't feel the way his body heats up at the proximity as you work on his face.

You have a bunch of little bottles, tubes, and pallets spread out on your vanity, some open and some new. You've been working diligently, brows scrunched and tongue sticking out cutely as you focus until you're satisfied to move on to the next step.

You lean back to get a better look at his face.

"Wow," You smile up at him, "you look so pretty, Sannie." He bites at the inside of his cheek to keep himself calm as you praise his looks.

Apparently, you're doing "idol makeup" for him. It's supposed to look "natural, yet enhancing" for men. He's never worn makeup before, so he has no idea what that means.

"Really? I didn't think I'd look good in makeup." He says smoothly. On the inside, he's vibrating with joy. He loves hearing sweet words from you.

"You should let me do your makeup more often," you suggest as you reach around him to pick out a few tube-shaped products. "Okay, now for the finishing touches..." You open the various tubes to reveal different shades of lip stuff.

You swatch some of the pigment onto your index finger and go back to your spot between his legs. He watches as you delicately bring your hand up to his face.

You smooth the blush color over his bottom lip, smudging it out just so it won't be so harsh. You do the same to his top lip, applying it so softly that it makes him want to lean into the touch. You're so focused, leaning in closely to get a good look before picking up a subtle lip gloss that blends out the color seamlessly.

In the heat of the moment, San tilts his head down, wanting to get closer to you, but it messes up your lip gloss application.

"San, you have to stay still." You scold lightly as you use your thumb to delicately wipe the excess product off. It almost feels domestic the way you're cleaning him up so casually.

"My bad." He whispers. You don't notice how he stares down at you, admiring your focused expression from above as you finish up. His hand comes up before he realizes it, and he's tilting your face up to meet his.

You meet his eyes, letting out a questioning, "Hm? Does it feel okay?"

He pulls his arm away to rub at the back of his neck pitifully, acting like nothing happened. "Y-yeah...a bit sticky, but I'll get used to it."

"By the way, you have to let me post a pic of you on Insta."

"No way!"

"C'mon, everyone is going to love it!"

"You mean everyone is gonna clown me about it?" He counters.

"I think it looks pretty, though." You give him a hand mirror, "Don't you?"

And how could he deny those beautiful eyes anything?

"Ok, fine. Just one photo."

—

The First Kiss

What do you get when you put two lightweights in a room alone together? -- A lot of loud and nonsensical blabbering.

In this case, the two lightweights in question are you and San.

You're not actually alone, though. You're at one of Mingi's get-togethers that he hosts every month; it's basically just an excuse to get drunk with his buddies.

The mentioned host and his buddies decided they'd had enough of babysitting and left you and San in the kitchen while they moved to the living room for a movie.

"Truth or Dare?"

"...Dare."

"Ok, when is the last time you peed your--"

"I said DARE."

"Um, okay....I dare you to take another shot."

"That's not a real dare. Drinking is just something you do in between turns."

"Well, ok, fine...I dare you to..."

"--I dare you to give me a real dare."

"It's not your turn!"

San isn't even sure how you started playing Truth or Dare in the first place. You weren't playing it with Mingi and his friends, and neither of you brought up the idea to start playing it. Either way, you didn't get far before the game started to fall apart.

"Okay, fine. I'll take the shot." San pours himself some more soju with a clumsy hand and squinted eyes (to make sure he wasn't pouring it straight onto the kitchen counter) until it reached the lip of the glass.

"That's too mu--" San knocks the glass back before you can finish your words. He lets out a refreshing sigh, keeping in the disgusted expression that he usually has when drinking the bitter alcohol and instead putting on an easy smile for you. "Oh."

"It's not~" He happily responds, "I can handle a lot. Don't worry." His beet-red face smirks confidently as he pours up another glass. This time, he really does pour it onto the table. The pool of soju quickly drips onto the kitchen floor, making a sticky mess at your feet. It takes him a second to realize where that dripping sound was coming from. "Oh, shi--"

"SAN!" You squeal, grabbing whatever kitchen towel is closest and slapping it on the floor to sop up the mess.

The towel has as much absorbency as a piece of A4 printer paper.

San attempts to wipe the liquid up but ends up spreading it around instead. Now the mess has doubled in size. For some reason, he tries to move more frantically, hoping that the rigorous movement will coax the towel to cooperate -- but the added stress in his wipe job does nothing to resolve the issue.

You groan, "Mingi is gonna kill us."

"No-no, it's okay, just--" He looks around the kitchen. Not a single other towel in sight. There aren't even paper towels around! (Does Mingi just pretend to live here or something??) "Fuck, um..." He tries to think quickly, using all 2% of his brain to problem-solve, and all he can think of is to strip off his shirt.

"San?? I don't think now is the time--"

"Don't worry, I got this." He reassures you.

He plops his shirt on top of the towel, and the liquid finally seems to be soaking up. With a few wipes, most of the soju is off the floor. Or at least, not puddling together so badly.

"Oh, you do actually have this." You seem surprised that it works.

He stands up, proud as ever, "See?"

And you do see.

You see everything.

"O-oh, my bad..." He quickly covers himself, "I wasn't thinking." As he attempts to shield himself from your eyes, he ends up highlighting the flushed skin of his chest and the size of his biceps.

You look at him shyly, glancing briefly over his form, "You don't have to hide, San. I-I like your muscles." You admit -- probably too easily because of the alcohol.

"...Really?" He slowly puts his arms down.

"Yeah, I, uh...I've always found you attractive, Sannie."

His eyes widen, "Well, I-I--"

"What the hell are you guys doing in here? We could hear commotion from across the house!" Mingi yells as he enters the kitchen. He spots the empty bottle of soju on the counter, and the wet towel and shirt that are piled on the floor. "Did you guys drink all of that? Holy shi-- San, why are you NAKED? WHY IS THE FLOOR STICKY?"

Mingi ended up sending you to bed in the guest room and dragging San to sleep in the living room with the other guys while he cleaned up the mess.

San feels pretty dreadful when he wakes up. The alcohol barely let him sleep, not to mention the insane volume of the snores around him. But that isn't the (only) reason he feels horrible. You confessed to him a handful of hours ago, and he barely got to say anything. He barely got to process it because he was dragged away so fast.

He turns on his phone to see the time. It's 4:45 am. And he's the only person awake in this big ass house. He sighs, pushing off the makeshift bed that was set up on the living room floor, and heads to the kitchen for some water. But he stops halfway there when he sees a figure slowly make its way to the foyer.

He watches as you take slow, quiet steps closer to the door. You were trying to make a getaway.

As you step into your shoes, San clears his throat to announce his presence. Your head snaps to him in shock. "San..." You whisper just loud enough for him to hear. "...You're up?"

He walks closer to you, "You leaving already?"

"Yeah, I have...some stuff to do at home so..."

"So you have to leave at 5 am?" He watches as you squirm, caught in the lie.

You don't answer.

San doesn't know when he'll see you again -- if ever -- so he blurts out what's been running through his head all night. "Did you mean it? What you said last night?"

"W-what? What did I say…?" You pretend not to remember, hoping he'll let it go. But he doesn't. He sees right through you.

"That you think I'm cute, that you...like my muscles..."

Your face blooms with heat. You look away, suddenly fascinated by the floor. "Did I say that…?" you mumble, voice barely above a whisper. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, fidgeting with your sleeve. "L-look, San, I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable. I was drunk and… I don't want this to mess up our friendship—"

"Fuck our friendship."

Your head snaps up. "Huh?"

He takes a step closer. "There's nothing to ruin," he says, his voice low but unwavering. "I've liked you for years. I've been trying to show you this whole time, but you never noticed. Or maybe you just didn't want to."

Your mouth parts, stunned. "…You like me?" The disbelief is written all over your face.

Was he really that bad at flirting?

"Yes," he says, eyes locked on yours. "A lot.".

"Oh, shit," you breathe, your eyes widening. "This whole time, I thought you had a thing for --"

"It's only been you," he cuts in, taking another step forward. You're almost chest to chest now. "Can we stop talking in circles and just date already?"

You blink. "Like… immediately? Right now?" You stumble over your words, "Yeah -- I mean, yes. I'd love to."

His lips twitch into a smile. "Good, then I can do this." His hands cradle your cheeks, gentle but certain, and he leans in. His soft lips meet yours delicately at first, like he's testing the waters, but it quickly grows feverish as he presses you closer.

Once the shock wears off, you start to melt against him, kissing him back just as urgently, like you're making up for lost time. Your stuff slips from your hands as you lose yourself in the kiss, landing with a careless thud. But you don't even flinch. All that matters is the warmth of him, the way your arms fit perfectly around his neck.

When you pull back just enough to breathe, San rests his forehead against yours, humming with a smile on his lips. He exhales, voice soft and full of awe. "Is this real?"

"Oh, it's real." The voice doesn’t come from either of you. It’s deep, dry, and very tired. You both jolt apart like you've been electrocuted. Standing in the hallway, hair sticking out in every direction and eyes half-lidded with sleep, is Mingi. "First, I had to clean up your mess and tuck you both in like toddlers," he says, "and now you're making out in front of the front door?"

San mutters something unintelligible under his breath. You slap a hand over your face.

"Good morning to me, I guess," Mingi mutters, turning around. "I'm gonna take a piss and go back to bed. Try not to start dry-humping in the kitchen."

#san x reader #san fluff #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez fanfiction #san #san ateez #san ateez x reader #san choi x reader #choi san x reader #san choi fluff

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jjkeverlast · 1 month ago

Text

hurts so good | jjk

✧ pairing best friend!jk x fem!reader

✧ rating explicit (18+)

✧ summary having jeongguk as a best friend had it's cons. for one he complains, a lot. surprisingly he shows up at your door at two in the morning to complain about something incredibly different.

✧ warnings & tags friends to lovers - hung!jk - light sub!jk - humor - oral (m. receiving) - unprotected sex (lol) - soft reassuring kind of sex :((( reader just wants to show guk that he can still fuck despite his big size :((((

✧ word count 4.3k

✧ author's note this fic is a re-upload! if you've seen it before, this is why:)

"Jeongguk? It’s two in the morning."

You’re shocked to see Jeongguk in nothing but a black sweats attire and a pissed off face.

"I need to vent." He reasons.

"At two in the fucking morning?"

Now you’re pissed. The sleepy eyes long forgotten and the eight hour of sleep you were looking forward to all day. You let out a huff, moving aside for Jeongguk to enter. He better have a good fucking reason for this shit, you internally think as he comfortably sits on your couch as if it’s his own home. Sure, he carries the best friend title but he really had a thing for being way too comfortable in that department. Which explains him snacking on your unfinished snacks after your movie night — yes, with yourself.

"Hey! Seriously?" You snatch the bag of chips, as his mouth is full paired with his doe eyes looking at you in shock.

"I was hungry!" It’s muffled, small crumbs of chips flying out of his mouth. Disgusting.

"Just tell me why you’re here so I can go to bed as quickly as possible." You settle the bag of chips beside you as you sit next to him on your living room couch. Jeongguk swallows the chips, his annoyed face returning quickly — as if he forgot why he was irritated in the first place.

"Okay, well, Victoria is out of the picture." Victoria as in the woman who’s been involved with Jeongguk the last month. They met through one of your friends and quickly they agreed to see each other. You’d heard zero complaints about their relationship, up until now.

"I’m sorry Guk. What happened?" Now he’s being really quiet, too quiet for your liking.

"Jeon Jeongguk." Your voice is stern and he knows he’s gonna have to speak up now or you’ll kick him out.

"You won’t believe me."

"Try me." His brows raise, noticing you’re quickly losing your patience with him.

"It was because of… of the sex."

Sex. A very broad subject in your opinion, having a million reasons why sex can be bad and shakingly good. So for Jeongguk to reason sex, your mind immediately thinks that it has something to do with the fact that Victoria didn’t finish while they fucked. Which could be true? You wouldn’t know. Yes, so Jeongguk and you were best friends and overshared a tad bit much at times, although sex? Sex was never really on the table of ‘subjects to talk about’.

"Fuck this is gonna sound so wrong." Jeongguk grunts, tilting his head back and your thoughts are left on the shelf for now.

"It can’t be that bad." Jeongguk makes a noise, stating he’s disagreeing with your comment. You roll your eyes at his childish act.

"Jeongguk, if it’s about you not making her finish I will kick you out."

You’re serious. If he came to your apartment to complain about not making someone cum at two in the morning, he’s gonna join the wolves and god knows whatever lurks in the streets at night.

"It was hurting her. Y/N, I fucking hurt her." You’re puzzled, trying to figure out how exactly Jeon Jeongguk could be hurting anyone.

"Wha–"

"With my fucking dick."

It’s silent. The air con noise grows louder in your apartment as you both stare at each other in fright.

Did he just say—

"Y-your dick?" You tilt your head, eyes wide open not having a chance at being closed. He’s nodding slowly and you wheeze — thinking this is some sick joke that he wanted to pull on you.

Classic Jeon Jeongguk.

"Y/N, I’m serious." Your laughter continues on, you almost tearing up as it becomes uncontrollable. As your mind slowly processes the awkward silence from Jeongguk's side, you quiet your laughter and listen to what he has to say.

"It’s because of my-my length."

"Length? As in you're big enough to reach her cervix?" You joke playfully, hitting him on the arm as you’d guessed he’d laugh at it but instead?

"Yeah."

You’re speechless.

Your laugh being completely swallowed, taken back by the agreement to your joke. Was he serious? He couldn’t possibly, then that would mean he probably has a big di–

"You don’t believe me."

You really don’t.

"It’s just hard to believe… that’s all." Jeongguk couldn’t possibly. It’s weird for you to even think about.

"How can I make you believe me? Cause I am seriously struggling with women and this isn’t helping." He gives you a stern look with a glimpse of urge for help. He’s desperate.

"Prove it to me." There’s no words to describe the expression that is currently resting on Jeongguk's face. A mix of every expression a person can carry.

“I’m not showing you my dick.” He gives you the obvious tone of ‘you can’t be serious right now’ and crosses his arms as you’re no help to his little situation.

“Then I’m not believing you.”

“Fine!”

“Fine.” You’re both staring into the black TV screen, arms crossed as the silence returns. It’s awkward for once. You were obviously joking about Jeongguk showing you his dick — not yourself wanting to see what’s behind his black sweats. As if the thought ever occurred to you of what it looks like…

Okay, so maybe you have. Once. It wasn’t your fault when Victoria had been drunkenly babbling over how big Jeongguk was. You didn’t think of it as much, seeing she was in a drunken state. But when Jeongguk admits it, you immediately try to shut down the idea that he might be telling the truth. You didn’t want to even begin to imagine how Jeongguk is in bed. Is he needy and whiny? Or controlling and grunting? No, seriously Y/N stop. You grunt in annoyance and that catches Jeongguk's attention, watching you bite your lip. He would never admit that you, leaning your head back, your lip tucked in between your teeth is hot. Like really fucking hot. No. You’re his best friend, for seven years to be exact. He can’t possibly find that hot.

Maybe it was because of the fact that he sought your help after Victoria threw a tantrum at him for having a big dick. It has never occurred him to be attracted to you, you had been friends for so long that sex or just anything regarding a sexual situation between you never crossed his mind. When he looks over once again, your eyes now closed, swallowing the silence that's filling the room between you as the tension grows. Maybe it’s only from Jeongguk's side, or maybe yours as well, although he can’t tell what you’re thinking.

"Let’s just forget this okay?" You finally speak, with a regretful tone which Jeongguk catches too quickly for his liking. He should’ve never found you hot for a split second. It’s wrong. So fucking wrong of him.

"Yeah, okay. I’ll leave." Jeongguk rubs his palms against his sweats, trying to calm himself from the ungodly thoughts of you crossing his mind slowly.

"Or–" You start off, catching his attention as he turns to meet your eyes, you look tired. "You could– you could stay.’’ He never expected for you to invite him to stay. Sleepovers between the two of you were never involved in your seven year long friendship. Jeongguk wanted to stay, and because you proposed made him hopeful. Hopeful in a sense that maybe, just maybe you’ve thought of it too.

"Sure, okay, I’ll stay." He’s hesitant. Are you both going to share a bed?

"You can just sleep on the couch. I’ll get you a duvet." You smile awkwardly, leaving the living room and entering your bedroom while Jeongguk feels incredibly stupid. Of course you don’t want him, you’ve never wanted him. He wants to slap his face for letting himself be attracted to you.

"Here." You’re already back, holding the duvet close to you, as you place it on the couch you wish him goodnight and return back to your room.

As your door closes, Jeongguk sighs loudly, falling back against the couch. He’s fucked. It’s fine, he just has to sleep his attraction towards you away. He discards his sweats attire, leaving him in his black Calvin Klein boxers, a personal favorite of his.

When he finally settles in, covered in your duvet, he catches the smell of you enveloping the fabric. It doesn't help his mind which already has you covering most of it. He tries to shake out of it, turning and at last closing his eyes.

After what feels like an hour of tossing and turning, Jeongguk comes to the conclusion that he can’t sleep. He wants you, more than he thought he would. He’ll probably hurt you, which is one of the few reasons holding him back from knocking on your door. Also the fact that you are very clear on the best friend scale.

There’s a lot of risks that would be taken if he stood up and walked towards you, admitting how much he wants you, how desperate he is to let you touch him. All thoughts vanish from him when he comes to conclusion that he’s saying fuck it. He’ll just leave if you don’t feel the same way and burrow himself deep in his bed and never leave until his attraction disappears completely.

He gets up, throwing the duvet off himself and being met with your white wooden door. His heartbeat is increasing as he urges himself to pull his arm up and form his hand to a knuckle to leave a knock.

As he’s about to knock, the door flies open and you’re standing in front of him, in nothing but a loose transparent white tee. Your nipples are on display for his eyes and he’s gulping over seeing more of you than he expected. Wait–why are you awake?

"Y/N?"

"I– I couldn’t sleep." You’re looking down, stealing a quick glance at his bulge which he notices. Do you, do you want him? God the buildup is absolutely killing him. But he tries to control himself, holding himself back from asking you if he can kiss you.

He clears his throat, "Why?" You were probably thirsty or maybe the thought of him being here caused you to sleep badly. He felt bad.

"I can’t stop thinking about it."

Your posture changes, a dominant demeanor overlapping itself on your shoulders. You’re stern, firm and just plainly honest. Could you be any hotter?

"Thinking about what?" You’re smiling, your gaze landing on his silver chain hanging around his neck. With a swift movement you’re hooking a finger around it and pulling him to your lips. Jeongguk freezes, his lips feeling warm as they’re covered by yours. He can’t process the fact that you’re kissing him. It feels so right, your chest pressed firmly against his, as he’s able to feel your hardened nipples through the fabric.

Before your fingers can grab onto his hair, he stops. "Are you sure?" You’ve crossed the friendship line, the kiss breaking the scale completely.

"Yes. Let me feel you Guk." Your pleading eyes, and the firm grip your finger has on his chain leaves him dizzy. He lets you, lets you take full control of him.

"Touch me." He catches your smile at his request before you pull him further in the bedroom and guide him to lay down. His heartbeat is going crazy fast, his mind barely being able to comprehend that you’re about to straddle his lap.

As you position yourself on top of him, a low grunt leaves his lips as the contact between your core and his visible bulge closes. He’s already so hard and you’ve barely touched him.

Your fingers grab his hair, tenderly running your fingers through the undercut. "I love your hair like this." You compliment as you go back to kiss him, missing the warmth of his mouth already.

Jeongguk is careful with you, wanting to touch you everywhere, run his hand down your spine and feel the warmth of your skin under his palm but he holds himself back. His mind is back to thinking of you hurting, and feeling hurt because of his length. This is a bad idea.

"Wait." He holds your shoulders, your hands laid flatly on his chest with a worried expression.

"What’s wrong?" You look like someone who’s scared you’ve gone too far and Jeongguk feels a tinge of guilt.

"I don’t want to hurt you." He whispers, being careful with his choice of words.

"What if I want it to hurt?" You trace your fingers on his chest, drawing them in small circles as his eyes move to your half hidden smirk.

"I–"

"Just, trust me." Your head falls down on his chest, leaving kisses on his chest and letting your tongue run freely on his exposed skin as he whimpers beneath you. Your tongue feels amazing on him and he gives in, letting you control the situation.

"Okay." Jeongguk softly says, your head moving lower towards his abdomen, peppering his skin with kisses and biting gently down to give him a small taste of what awaits him.

He can sense that you’re being patient, savoring up the moment of having him like this. His body is a canvas for you, to mark, bite and let your mouth run freely on. He wants you to take control, to show him how well you’ll be able to please him as he later on will give you his cock to fill you up.

"This– this feels really good." He mumbles, barely forming a full sentence, too captivated by the feeling of you above him.

You hum against his skin, seeming more than pleased in hearing his compliment regarding your mouth. You’ve moved longer down, your legs now settled between his as your breath lands hot on his clear hard on.

Jeongguk looks up to see you gawking at him and he grows embarrassed.

"Y/N, stop looking."

"Sorry, you just weren’t kidding." Somehow the answer resolves in you and Jeongguk laughing like idiots and him throwing a ‘I told you so’ into the middle of your shared laugh. The laughter soon dies down and the irresistible tension returns to the dark bedroom, the only light coming from the outside lights covering the streets. It’s the only light which helps the both of you in seeing a glimpse of one another.

"Can I?" You ask, holding one hand firmly on his hip as your thumb traces on the top of Jeongguk's Calvin Klein boxers. He gulps, nodding as he allows you to take things further.

You take your time in taking his boxers off, Jeongguk can’t help but have his hips shake – reasons being he’s nervous yet thrilled for this to happen. Having his cock on full display for your eyes is nerve wracking, he’d never see this day coming.

"Hey, I’ll be gentle." With that you use your thumb, smearing his leaking precum as he bucks his hips wanting more. Jeongguk is infatuated by your touch, becoming more needy for you.

"Fuck– your hand feels so soft." He throws in a compliment and surprisingly you go at a faster pace, a sudden moan escaping his lips. Fuck, how are you so good at this?

The sensational feeling from your hand has Jeongguk closing his eyes, also because he’s nervous to look at you while your hand is wrapped firmly around him. He’s too confused and captivated by you and the pleasure you’re giving him that he still really hasn’t processed what is happening right at this moment. It feels surreal.

Your thumb traces itself on his tip once again, Jeongguk running his hand through his hair as his breathing speeds up, a familiar feeling of release washing over him.

Fuck, you haven’t even touched him for long and he’s already thinking of coming.

You, his best friend since he had his awful hair fazes that just never really complimented his features. His best friend since high school, as you both lamely made fun of the PDA couples, who never knew what the word ‘privacy’ meant.

He’s too deep in thought, until you suddenly stop.

Jeongguk hesitantly opens his eyes, using his elbows for support as he now looks at you.

"Can I taste you?"

Jeongguk almost chokes at your question. His already fucked out state isn’t even hesitant. Fuck he’d love your lips wrapped around him. Your lips look even softer than your hand. The outline of your lips visible for his eyes as the moonlight discreetly shines over them.

God, you make him so weak.

Truth be told, Jeongguk doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever been this willing, this open to just anything.

But if it includes you? He’s all for it.

"Y-yeah."

Fuck, he just stuttered.

You probably think he’s being hesitant and–

You gently lick his tip, swirling it around to allow the taste of him to linger itself in your mouth, your hand starts to move again and Jeongguk's mouth falls apart, his eyes watching you.

If only you could see how pretty you were as you open wider, inviting more of him. Your mouth feels so warm, so welcoming. He wonders if it’s possible to get addicted to a certain body part, because he’ll for sure mention your mouth if asked.

"God, your mouth." He wants to caress your cheeks softly, as his thumb can feel how well he’s filling your mouth up. Maybe it’s too much… too sentimental. Seeing you’re literally stuffing your face with his cock, your hand stroking what you aren’t able to take.

Although, he forms a sort of courage and asks you gently, "Can I touch you?" You let go of his cock with a pop, brows furrowed as if you’re uncertain of where exactly he wants to touch you.

"Please?"

"Okay." Jeongguk leans closer to you, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb grazes the top of it. You lean in his touch before you go back down, taking him in your mouth once again. He won’t survive this. No. He won’t survive you.

He’s almost about to break when his palm feels the bump caused by his cock in your mouth as you bop your head faster, all while Jeongguk whines freely — not knowing he’s making you extremely wet by moaning so carelessly.

It’s not until you use your hand, focusing solely on sucking his tip that he’s almost about to finish. You retrieve before he’s able to, a string of saliva connecting you to his tip as you smile so innocently. Yeah, he’s definitely not surviving you.

“What are you doing to me?” It isn’t a question, rather a statement towards everything he feels for you in this instant moment.

You guide yourself back up, lips molding against his. He can taste himself on your tongue and it drives him crazy. He’s almost willing himself to take control — he’s never done or wanted that before, but there’s just something about you which drives him in a completely different direction.

Should he touch you? Touch you in ways he’s always found appealing but never for him? He’s willing, for you he is. Slowly but surely, he tenderly peppers your neck with kisses, slipping his tongue to run along. He’s startled when you moan so effortlessly. He wants to hear more of you and those heavenly sounds you’re so willing to offer him.

You begin to move, grinding your clothed core over his bare cock and a rush is sent through him. It’s almost as if he’s gotten you needy now, so needy you couldn’t contain yourself from grinding on top of him — still fully clothed. It feels new, although Jeongguk loves it, cause fuck he can feel how wet you are. Did you get this wet by only touching him?

"You’re already so wet." A grunt leaves his lips when you only hum in response, continuing your grinding, almost as if you’re losing yourself completely at the touch of him.

"Fuck, fill me up. I can’t wait anymore." You push him down, hurrying yourself to take your shirt off. Since when did you go from being patient to impatient so fast? He can’t help but feel extremely proud of himself, patting himself mentally on the back.

But then he’s in tact of what’s happening, you’re about to sit yourself down on his cock and he’s afraid — even though you made it clear you want it to hurt — he just… cares too much about you and the thought of you being in pain because of him doesn’t sit well with him.

"Hey, are you sure? I really don’t want to hurt you." You’re just about to position yourself, freezing in your movement. You’ve probably caught on how afraid he is.

"Guk, I want this. It’s okay." You peck his lips softly, his hold on you loosening to inform you that he trusts you.

His tip is barely inside of you and a whimper lets itself out of him. Scratch that about your mouth being his favorite body part of yours, your pussy definitely steps on the podium for number one.

You continue, Jeongguk catching the sight of his cock disappearing within you and his breathing starts to quicken. He probably won’t last long, not when you wrap yourself so nicely around him the further you go down.

"Shit—" You let out, fully sunk down on him. There’s a tinge of discomfort covering your face but Jeongguk forces himself not to worry, you want this, you want him. It’s soon replaced by a smile, as you start bucking your hips, letting yourself settle on him.

He really takes the time to notice how beautiful your breasts are, looking so delicate. God, he wants to touch them, touch every inch of you.

He’s reminding himself of the sounds you let out as he placed his lips on your neck, would you react the same way if he latched his lips on your exposed breasts as well? There’s really only one way to find out. Yet he wants to be good for you, letting you use him to make yourself finish.

You surprise him once again, guiding his hands towards your breasts — as if you knew he was having a tantrum with himself over if he should touch them or not — he was right, they’re incredibly soft. Your nipples perked and good enough to suck but then again, he holds himself back.

"You feel so good." Your words are mostly slurred, too focused on the pleasure — your eyes closed as you run your fingers through Jeongguk's hair — his hair that you like.

He makes you feel good, you keep reminding him when you mutter it once more as your hips buck at a faster pace. Shit, you really know how to ride him well.

It’s as if something clicks for Jeongguk when you go down to bite his earlobe followed by an angelic whimper. He loses all control of himself. "Fuck–" He’s taking control, flipping you around so you’re beneath him, hair sprawled on your pillow and eyes about to pop out of their socket.

"What are you–" Jeongguk latches his mouth on your hardened nipples, nibbling his tongue softly on them and it was so worth it. They feel so soft against his tongue. Although not as soft as your pussy wrapping itself perfectly around him.

Jeongguk feels dizzy, drowning in the feeling of how he’s swallowed by your warmth. Fuck he’d keep himself buried in you forever if he could.

He starts thrusting, profanities break out from you when the pace quickens. He’s reckless at this point, showing you how much you affect him.

As the time passes, skin grows hotter, small beads of sweat covering Jeongguk's forehead. You’re both close. He can sense it as you convulse around him which almost leaves him breathless.

"Fuck— it hurts, it hurts so good." With that your body loses its composure beneath him as you come undone.

It’s something about you making him good about himself, not only him as a person but him in whole. You’ve always been so accepting of whatever bullshit he’s brought upon you. He feels safe around you, your arms wrapped around his form as you run your fingers through his hair. You feel like home. You are his home.

With a low muttered fuck, Jeongguk feels his cock twitch as his hips stutter for one last thrust, filling you up with everything he has.

His hair covers most of his sight, both of you panting in sync as you try to calm yourselves. When his cock begins to soften, he takes it as a sign to let himself plop down next to you.

"I’ve– I’ve never…" Jeongguk doesn’t know where to begin. He can’t recognize the person he was right before.

"Taken control?" You steal his unspoken words and he turns to see you smiling softly. The moonlight has turned to a chrome yellow, indicating that a sunrise was indeed nearing. Your features have become more prominent for Jeongguk's eyes and your beauty captivates him by an invisible hook.

"Yeah, taken control."

"You should do it more often." It’s an encouragement and it seems to work because the idea of being in control doesn’t faze Jeongguk. He loved it.

It’s been around an hour after Jeongguk surprisingly fucked you. You’re both situated in your kitchen. The sunrise covering most of the apartment with it’s golden rays that strike inside the windows from the living room.

"What are you thinking?" Jeongguk caught onto your frown, indicating you’re thinking about something.

"I’m thinking that… I liked this, what just happened, I really liked it. It felt–"

"Right?" He answers for you and you nod.

"I don't want this to be the last time."

"It won’t be." Carefully, Jeongguk cups your face, his nose brushing against yours. He really wants to kiss you again.

"Kiss me." You seem impatient, and Jeongguk gladly does as you request.

Maybe, maybe this was always supposed to happen between you.

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