#whose fault is that hm?

[thegrayascendancy-if]

Revisiting an old scene because Y wasn't dramatic enough in it, jc this diva...

[angelofviscera]

this is one of the first weeks where the beths aren't my 2nd most listened to artist and it's purely because of my 55 naked in manhattan listens

[uraandri]

[shesgonnachangetheworld]

hope all those people who were just so convinced that it was The Darkies(tm) fault that they didn't get into the college of their choice enjoy not getting into the college of their choice for other reasons ❤��

[draconicace]

trying so hard to hold both 'sometimes people have really bad days and let out their feelings at the wrong person. none of us are perfect.' and 'people who are rude to service workers should die by flaming morning star blunt trauma' in my heart

[3d-wifey]

can i get a short lil sumthin sumthin about remus and his girlfriend being academic weapons, sirius and james thinks they're boring bc they've been doing their work in the library for hours but they're actually cockwarming and seeing who'll crack first heheheh 👀👀👀

"Focus, Lupin"

Pairing: Remus Lupin x girlfriend!reader

Synopsis: You and Remus are quite competitive, always going head-to-head in your classes. It’s commonplace to compete for the highest marks. What isn’t commonplace is the sabotage in the form of Remus’s wandering hands.  

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: well, smut of course! Exhibitionism, possessive Remus, yall are both freaks tbh, cucking? cock warming, riding

A/N: The other marauders have a big fat stinking crush on you but that's neither here nor there until the end of the fic. Sighhh, I go through my marauders mood swings. Your house isn't clear so feel free to pick any of them.

Tags: @yvy1s @innercreationflower

Remus hooks his chin over your shoulder, looking for all the world as if he's just getting into a better position to read his chicken scratch notes, pressing your back even further against his chest. You inhale, clenching around him at the sudden movement. You scoff at his near-inaudible laughter, elbowing him as he chuckles into your neck.

"Quit it." You grumble, quil moving at the speed of light as you furiously write.

"Quit what?" He moves the textbook you're sharing closer, the big hand he places on the page mirrors the one that's settled on your stomach. He spreads his fingers wide like he's stretching them before he drums them along the parchment. You wish you hadn't left your robes in your dorm, at least then you'd have another layer between your skin and Remus's teasing touch.

"You're cheating." You hiss, but that's the most you do to reprimand him. It's your fault you're in this mess anyhow.

Both of you are always the highest scorers in your class. And with the past few exams, you've been getting the same score or beating each other by a point or two. It's bloody frustrating.

You continuously tried to one-up each other in academics, long after you two started dating. He's your rival first, boyfriend second.

At this very moment, before you both sit two half-done papers for your N.E.W.T-level Alchemy class that isn't due for another week, but you get extra house points if you're the first to turn it in.

Which you plan to be, even if half the blood in your brain has traveled down to where you're swollen and soaked. You both sit completely clothed, other than where you're hitched on Remus's cock, knickers pulled to the side.

Of course, the library is empty. It's nine in the afternoon on a Friday. And it was your idea to see whose dedication would overpower their carnal desires. 

He laughed you off at first. A soft, dismissive chuckle rumbling from his chest, muffled by the book he barely looked up from. Typical, shaking his head as if you'd said something absurd and that was the beginning and end of it. But you knew him well enough by now to know which buttons to push—and exactly how hard. 

"Yeah, right," you sighed, letting your tone drop into exaggerated defeat as you flopped back against his headboard. "Wouldn't be much of a competition anyway."

Remus paused mid-turn of the page. His brows furrowed, eyes flicking to you in sharp suspicion, but you didn't look at him. Not yet. Instead, you stretched out along his bed like a cat, carefully keeping your expression blank as you toyed with the edge of the blanket.

"...And what's that supposed to mean?" His voice was sharp, clipped, but you could hear the curiosity, the irritation. The competitive edge. Exactly what you were counting on.

"Hm? Oh, nothing." You waved a hand vaguely in his direction, settling yourself comfortably against his pillows. You stretched a little more, arching your back like a cat before flopping onto your side. You kept your expression perfectly neutral, but you knew he could feel the smirk simmering beneath the surface. "It's just...well, we both know you'd give in long before me. So there's truthfully no point in even entertaining the idea." You shrugged, all nonchalance, even as you felt your chest flutter at the way his brows drew together. "I'm just agreeing with you, Rem."

His scoff was immediate, sharp and incredulous. You'd earned yourself a full look now, his book lowering just enough to reveal the disbelief etched across his face. “That’s not what I said.”

You shrugged as if it was no concern to you, deliberately looking away like the conversation was already over, knowing full well he wouldn’t let it rest. You flipped onto your stomach, propping your chin on your hands to stare at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Didn’t need to." 

You bit your lip to keep from smiling as his book lowered—not abruptly, but slowly, deliberately. One inch, then two—his sharp amber eyes flicking to yours. The forefinger he slipped between the pages made it look like he might still pretend to be reading, but you knew better.

The scar closest to his eye twitched, irritation flickering faintly across his face. Merlin, you always loved how expressive that scar was when he was annoyed. One of his fingers tapped against the book spine resting on his chest, the motion twitchy.

He exhaled through his nose—sharp, like he was trying to keep it together—and finally set the book aside. His movements were precise, controlled, but there’s no hiding the faint flush creeping over his neck or the way the corner of his mouth twitched.

You knew you got him. He tried, and failed, to mask his irritation and it was almost unfair how easy he was to rile up. Almost

He let a long silence settle, the weight of his gaze pressing into you. Finally: “…You taking the piss?” 

You let the grin spread across your face this time, sitting up slightly so your chin props on your hands. "M'as serious as the plague, Lupin."

The staring match that followed was something out of a duel, the cogs in his mind clearly spinning. The tension stretched taut between you, thick as smoke, neither of you daring to blink.

His book stayed in his hand for a moment longer, though you saw the exact second he gave up pretending to read. Then, to your satisfaction, he closed his book with an audible thud and set it aside. He shifted, sitting up and leaning forward. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, the muscles in his forearms flexing with the movement, and your stomach twisted—just a smidge.

"Go get your books," he said, his voice low and challenging, sending electricity up your spine. "And meet me in the library."

“Oooh, someone's touchy," you said, walking your fingers up his thigh, muscles tensing under your touch. “Formal battlegrounds now, is it? Bold move, Rem. I thought you liked keeping your humiliations private. But if losing in public gets your rocks off, who am I to deny you?"

His lips twitched—an almost-smile that was gone too fast to catch properly. “I’ll be the one handing out the humiliation, thanks.” 

"Stakes?" you asked, cocking your head.

"Loser buys the winner chocolate frogs for a week," he said, already swinging his legs off the bed. Then, after a pause, he glanced over his shoulder, smirking faintly. "Or…whatever else I decide." 

You pushed yourself up with a wicked grin that matched his, already moving toward the door. “Alright, but don’t be mad when you’re the one giving in first. I know you can’t resist me for long.” 

Behind you, you heard him huff a laugh, though it sounded like he was trying to hide it. “Get your books, trouble. Let’s see how well you actually handle restraint.” 

You were confident by the end of this week you'd overdose on chocolate frogs. Remus might be brilliant and disciplined, but he’s not immune to distraction. Especially distraction in the form of his wickedly beautiful girlfriend.

Truthfully, it was daft of you to assume Remus would play fair. You mix two people who are as competitive as they are horny and it leads you here, on your boyfriend's lap, surely dripping onto the wooden bench under you.

He hums as if he's thinking over the definition of cheating and if what he's doing right now counts as it—which it does.

"S'that right?" He mumbles into your neck and you almost reach for your wand, honest, "I don't see any cheating here, love. Just good old fashioned studying, just like you wanted."

He thrusts up, and your hand flies up to cover your mouth. You see his quill moving out of the corner of your eye without the aid of a hand. "Cheater," you pant, but don't move to stop him or even continue writing your essay. You allow yourself to enjoy the slow, steady rock of his hips against yours—only for a moment. Every vein and ridge dragging against your hypersensitive walls.

You go to reach back—for support, for a futile attempt at stopping the way he rocks into you, feeling as inevitable as the ticking of time���with your other hand, but are stopped by the quill in your hand. You're reminded, there and then, that winning over Remus is almost, if not just as satisfactory as a hard won orgasim.

You put quill to ink pot, and then, quill to parchment. Remus curses behind you but doesn't stop. Not with you panting and whining behind gritted teeth. Not with you clenching around him like a Grindylow's spindly fingers, tightening with a merciless grip. He doesn’t stop until the familiar voice of his mates cuts through the fog.

"There you two are. Should've known you'd be held up in here weeks before your assignment is done. On a weekend at that—" Sirius trails off as he and James discover the little nook you and Remus have secluded yourselves too, as well as the...odd position you find yourselves in.

It's not that he's never seen you two be affectionate, especially nearing the full moon as it is, but you in Remus's lap like this, a flustered look on your face, well, he's not a dumbass. Something out of the ordinary is happening here.

James on the other hand is none the wiser, brows furrowing in self righteous disappointment.

"We've been looking for you two everywhere. Party's not that far off, you know the turn out will be lethal even if we lost the match to those snakes." There was a foul that should've been called, but wasn't, a sligh that the refs didn't catch. In traditional Gryffindor fashion, they didn't whine about a rematch or about the unfairness of it, and in typical Slytherin fashion, they didn't either. But they needed you two to help set up certain spells only you two knew because, well, you created them. Definitely not because they liked watching the way their best mate's girl stretched and bent as she set up in the Gryffindor commons.

"We know," Remus says, glancing up at the boys before looking back to one of the open textbooks. "The plan's to party the weekend away, yeah? It's why we're getting the assignment out of the way. Sooner you let us finish this," he's slowly sliding his hands up from your knees to your hips, pushing you down with such strength that your stomach clenches, "sooner we can help."

"It's...it's just an essay, Sirius. We'll be done before the Hufflepuffs start," you almost bite your tongue mid-sentence when Remus ghosts a callused finger over your aching clit, playing it off as a hiccup, "bringing the snacks.

Neither of you say anything more as you have a sneaking suspicion that they're going to catch on, chances of you opening your mouth to speak only for a moan to tumble out are high. Remus is quiet because he hopes they do figure it out, either from the audible wetness of your cunt or your eyes rolling back as he makes you cum. 

Remus knows they're in love with you and have been since third and fourth year. He's tempted to invite them a glimpse under the table so they can see how he has you stretched around his cock, squirming and wanton. What better way of making sure they know you're his?

And from the way Sirius looks the two of you over, glances down at the table, and raises his perfectly sculpted brows as James begins to ramble at you, there’s no mistaking that Sirius knows. Of course he does. Sirius always knows. His stormy eyes flick down again—deliberate, calculating—as if he’s debating whether or not to call you out. He hums, low and thoughtful, as if weighing the satisfaction of saying something versus letting the moment play out. Instead, he smirks faintly and leans against a nearby bookcase, letting James’s oblivious chatter fill the space.

Remus holds his gaze, unflinching, daring him to say a word. For a brief, reckless moment, he considers sliding his chair back just enough to let Sirius catch a glimpse of how thoroughly he has you. The thought makes his cock twitch inside you, and from the way Sirius’s smirk curves a fraction higher, it’s almost like he knows that, too.

Remus doesn’t full-on smirk when they lock eyes, but it’s a close thing.

"…Right.” Sirius tilts his head slightly, his sharp grey eyes dragging over the two of you like he’s piecing together a puzzle he’s already solved. His gaze flicks down to the table again—just briefly—and then back up to meet yours. The corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smirk, but close enough to make your stomach drop. “You know, you two really are awful at being subtle.”

Your heart skips a beat, heat rushing to your face as you open your mouth to protest—except Sirius doesn’t give you the chance. He hums thoughtfully, his gaze flicking to Remus, and then back to you, like he’s enjoying the power of watching you squirm. “But don’t think being pretty gets you out of work,” he adds smoothly, leaning in to knock his knuckle against the table. “You’ve got until ten on the dot before I come back and drag you out of here myself.”

James, oblivious as ever, snorts and waves Sirius off. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just mad because we need you for the setup,” he says, rolling his eyes. He jabs a thumb at Sirius, then gestures toward the door. “I told him you’re probably in here studying, because what else would you two be doing on a Friday night?”

Sirius hums again, a low, knowing sound, his gaze locking with Remus’s in a silent challenge. The corner of his mouth curves, just enough for you to wonder if he’s going to say something more—something that will make it impossible to deny that he knows exactly what’s happening beneath the table.

But instead, he lets out a soft laugh, straightening from the bookcase. “Sure,” he drawls, his voice dripping with amusement. “Studying.” His eyes grow bigger as he says it to emphasis just how little he believes that rubbage excuse.

He casts one last look over the two of you, smirking faintly, before turning to leave, James already rambling on about the next Quidditch match as they disappear into the corridor. Relief floods your chest for all of three seconds—before Remus tilts his hips just so, dragging another whimper from you as his cock presses deeper.

You bite your cheek, barely able to return James's wave goodbye before you're digging your nails into Remus's thighs. The same thighs that are currently spreading yours apart. Your skirt rides up, exposing you to the air and his sly hands.

"This," your hips twitch against his as he traces feather-light fingers over your puffy lips, swollen with need. You bite back a whine, huffing harshly through your nose as those fingers move down where the base of his cock sits snugly in you, tubbing slick where you and he are connected. "This is how you're cheating."

"If you're so much better than me, you should be able to focus, no problem, right?" He has an arm wrapped around your waist again, the other flipping pages.

"Fine." If that's how he wants to play, then you are more than game. You lean forward, elbows on the table as you grind your hips back and forth, barely raising off of him before coming back down with your fluttering warmth squeezing around him. "Focus, Lupin. Or, mh, at least try."

"Shhhit. D-dearest, that's not—" he cuts himself off with a truly shameless moan, both hands gripping your waist. He doesn't stop you, no, wouldn't dream of it. Instead, he helps you balance as you move faster, busy chasing your high more than you're focused on sabotaging Remus. "You, your—Merlin, you're bloody brilliant."

At this point, you don't know what'll come first: you, Remus, or Sirius's wrath.

[kaxserlvr]

Toxicbf!kaiser who always puts soccer above you. He doesn’t think twice cancelling dates for training or matches if it would mean becoming the best.“You should’ve known what you were getting into”

Toxicbf!kaiser who avoids serious discussions. He hates emotional confrontations, can’t handle them and will dodge it or dismiss it completely. “We’re doing fine, why ruin the atmosphere?”

Toxicbf!Kaiser whose ego is his biggest flaw. He will constantly prioritise himself and make you an afterthought not an equal completely disregarding your feelings . May even seem like he’s looking down on you. “You should feel lucky you’re with me”

Toxicbf!kaiser who doesn’t apologise. Even when he knows he’s in the wrong(which is rare lol) he’d prefer to straight up ignore it or buy expensive gifts in hopes you’ll forget. He hates the feeling of being vulnerable.

Toxicbf!Kaiser when you start to pull away from him will act like it doesn’t bother him(it does). He thinks you’re just trying to get a reaction from him, he’d call it “cute” He fully thinks you’ll come back(until you dont)

Toxicbf!Kaiser who feels something disgusting stir in him when he sees you talking to someone with a smile you no longer show him. He suddenly has a strong urge to be near you to show you’re his glaring at the person.” Are they bothering you,hm?”

Toxicbf!kaiser who starts to panic when he realises you’re genuinely getting tired of him. He’ll try to act like it doesn’t bother him but starts to notice how you don’t wait up for him at night, you dont try to start small chats, you no longer look at him,you no longer send him cute messages on how he’s doing. He’s starting to sound desperate.”Talk to me” “where are you?”

Toxicbf!kaiser who uses anger as a defence. He’ll try to blame you for his issues since it’s hard for him to take the fault. Truth is beneath all the anger is fear-fear of losing the one person that makes him feel something. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna give up on me?”

Toxicbf!kaiser who finally breaks and apologies. Seeing you slip away for good causes him to drop the act. No more looking down,no more games. He looks desperate and his usual cocky voice is replaced by something quieter “I’ve never done this…I- I don’t know how to be…I don’t want to loose you..” hed swallow his pride and admit he’s wrong if it means not losing you “I know I messed up and should’ve treated you better..I’m sorry”

Toxicbf!Kaiser who’d give you space but still be available. Texting you so he can remember you’re still here “have you eaten?” “What did you do today?”

If you choose to leave him for good …he’d take it hard and he wouldn’t be the same. Hed spend most of his time on soccer to try forget everything and his emptiness. It does pay off as he improves even more and becoming the best of the best but when he scores the winning goal and everyone cheers for him he instinctively looks for you in the crowd-to see your not there-he realises how bad he lost

But if you choose to give him a chance…you can see he’s nervous he will mess up again by the way he fidgets more around you. You two would have a talk and Kaiser would open up about his fears and insecurities he’s had and hed promise to work on himself and you promise to help communicate more so you guys can grow from this for the future.

[babyleostuff]

― SCARED YET?

sometimes it's fun to make your boyfriend suffer (make him watch horror movies)

𝜗𝜚 THEME: fluff, bang chan being scared because of a jumpscare, clingy channie 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: idol!bang chan x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 418

💌 natalia’s note: not svt related, but i just finished watching a horror movie (and i'm a bit tipsy which = clingy), which means i need to write about a man being clingy (i know his ass would hate me for making him watch horror)

poor jeongin had to be cruising out his leader like crazy at this point.

he surely wasn’t sleeping, since chris’s screams had been echoing through their dorm for at least an hour now, so you were keeping your fingers crossed that his noice cancelling headphones were fully charged, since you still had half an hour left of the movie.

you probably should’ve warned him you’d be sentencing chris to the worst tortures imaginable that there are.

which are horror movies. which your boyfriend obviously hates.

you didn’t feel too guilty about it though. it wasn’t your fault he forgot about your last movie night, leaving you sad and alone in his room, while he was at the studio.

a bit of spook never killed nobody. plus, it was the perfect excuse to cuddle a half naked chris.

“what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” your boyfriend’s voice was muffled with how deep in your neck he was hiding.

“it’s okay, baby,” you laughed, running your fingers through his hair, which now were the perfect length to play with. you were waiting for times like these. “you’re okay.”

he shook his head, whining softly. “nah-ah,” chris said, pulling his head away from you. “i hate you, y’know?” he pouted, jutting his bottom lip out. his arms tightened around your waist, not that you minded; he was already crushing your ribs anyway.

“remember whose fault this is, christopher, hm?” you hummed and ran your finger over his bottom lip.

a short while later, your boyfriend got back to his designated place, which obviously was in the crook of your neck with your arms tightly wrapped around his bare, strong shoulders.

“no, no, no,” chris mumbled, sensing another jumpscare. his body next to you was stiff as a plank and judging by how tense his back was, you knew he was scared for real.

kissing his temple, you tightened your hold around him. “we can turn it off, if you want.”

he shook his head gently, tickling you with his hair. “‘s okay. i know how much you like this movie. it’s just… a bit… scary.”

“chris, it’s fine. we can stop.”

he shook his head once again, being stubborn as ever, though it made your chest flutter with warmth at the thought that he’d rather do the thing he’s so uncomfortable with, just to make you happy.

“it’s okay, honey,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. “as long as i’m holding you, nothing bad will happen.”

[kissandtellus]

Shifting the Blame

⸺ Synopsis: Gojo and you are Sylus�� partners. Sylus returns home from a rough night to find out you two have been misbehaving while he was gone. He can’t let that go unpunished, can he?

⸺ Warnings: I SEE THE VISION, Smut, Spanking, choking, mentions of Dacryphilia, isn’t on a set timeline because this could be seen as a ‘crack ship’ BUT I LOVE IT.

Authors Note: This came from an anonymous request that I couldn’t fit into a single reply! So I hope you see this anon<3

The door to the penthouse creaked open. Sylus tried his best to be quiet, trying not to disturb the two puddles of his partners that would usually be curled up in his bed, waiting for him. Sylus installed heavy blackout curtains so the sun wouldn’t disturb his unusual sleep schedule just so he could get some proper rest.

He slips off his jacket, carefully hanging it, when he hears a squawk and poorly muffled laughter. He raises a thin eyebrow and stalks through the living room and into his study. The door was barely cracked, and he could hear hurried whispers.

“Mephisto be quiet! Just one more-“

“Satuuu,” a female voices chides. “Sylus is gonna be home any minute. We already used the whole sticker sheet.”

Sylus could feel the vein in his forehead pulse. He eases the door open, taking a few steps in to survey the entire damage. Y/n had Mephisto pinned to the desk by his feet as Gojo planted one final sticker right on his beak.

Sylus cleared his throat and both of his partners nearly jumped out of their skins. Gojo, ever the troublemaker, immediately pointed a finger at Y/n who was holding the empty sticker sheet.

“It was her, Sy! She made me do it!”

Y/n gasped immediately and tried to his the empty sheet behind her back. “N-nu uh! It wasn’t me!”

Sylus pinched the bridge of his nose, annoyance flowing through his veins. All he wanted to do when he got home, was curl up in bed with the two of them.

Both of his partners were dressed in pajamas, it was clear they had the right intention at one point. But something had triggered their mischievous side at some point.

Now he had more important things to attend to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Eighteen, n-nine-o-owww!- nineteen, t-twenty!” Gojo sobbed through clenched teeth, fisting the fabric of Sylus’ dress pants when the final spank came across his redden cheeks.

The other white haired man sniffled, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. Sylus grabbed his silky locks and craned his neck back.

“There, there, Satu~” Sylus mockingly coos, giving a sharp tug until the tears in those bright blue eyes spill down his redden cheeks. “You did so well. Now do you have something to say to me?”

Satoru is blubbering, “M’m sorry Sy!” He hiccups. Sylus leans down, giving Satoru a sloppy kiss. When he pulls away, Sylus gives a low chuckle and release his head, letting it fall forward across his lap.

Sylus’s sharp red orbs dart across the room to where Y/n is curled up in the corner, trying to make herself disappear so she wouldn’t suffer the same fate as Gojo. Sylus gives Gojo a gentle kiss on his cheek and carefully slid him off of his lap to tuck him into the massive California King bed.

Y/n squeals as Sylus stalks over to her. But Sylus was quick on his feet, snatching her mid strut while she’s kicking her feet. “S-Sylus! No, no, no! It wasn’t my fault!”

She’s like a whiny pup when Sylus tugs her short and underwear over the swell of her ass in a single tug. He leans back in the leather armchair in the bedroom, his free hand insnaring her throat like a vice.

“Shut up,” the first slap across her ass is a warning. She yelps, chewing on her bottom lip. “Whose stickers were they, hm?”

Odette immediately lies. “Sat-“

SMACK

“Kitten, you know I hate liars.” His fingers soothe over the tender flesh of her bottom. “You are trying to tell me that Satoru has pretty pastel cat stickers?”

Odette sniffs and wipes her eyes with a balled up fist. “I-It was mine…” she admits.

Sylus hums in approval, kissing the back of her head. “Thats what I thought. Now….” Sylus digs his nails into the sensitive flesh of her ass until she cries out, feet kicking freely in the air. “How many do you think you deserve? 20 like Satoru?”

Y/n gives a sheepish nod, wriggling in his lap.

Sylus clicks his tongue and lands a harsh smack on the back of her thighs. “Are you trying to get off easy? You lied to me, Sugar. I’m thinking a minimum of 30.”

The first 15 spanks leave Y/n feeling lightheaded. Sylus is a killer, has ended lives in the snap of a finger. His spanks were never soft. They were firm, a strict reminder of who was in charge.

“Don’t stop counting Kitten. I wouldn’t want to have to wake Satoru up again so he can watch you. We wouldn’t want that.” He teases after the 16th strike. The number fumbles out of Odette’s mouth sloppily. She’s hiccuping, thick tears spilling down her cheeks.

“H-hurts!” She whines.

Sylus chuckles and slaps her harder across her bruising ass. “It’s not supposed to feel good Kitten.”

But Satoru is far from asleep right across the room. He’s wriggling under the blankets, both hands fisting his aching length at the sound of Y/n’s punishment. He’s so needy, aching for release. Sylus isn’t an idiot, his keen eyes pick up on the rustling under the blankets.

“Satoru.” His spanks have stopped. Satoru freezes and curses under his breath. He pokes his head up and out from under the blankets, trying to pretend he was asleep with a fake yawn.

“Mm, yeah?”

“Stop touching yourself. Kneel.”

Sylus pushes Y/n to the floor by his feet just as Gojo joins here, their pajama covered bodies pressed up against each other between Sylus’ thighs. He sighs, a tired look on his face as he fishes out his aching cock from his pants.

If his partners had tails, they would be wagging like crazy.

He taunts the two of them like a cat with toys. If he leans his cock to the left, they follow, the same with the right. He chuckles and fists the bottom of his fat cock.

“Not that I think either of you dirty mutt’s deserves a taste, but I have pent up frustrations.” He gives himself a few strokes until pre-cum beads at the tip. “C’mere puppies.”

It’s a flurry of gnashing teeth, lips and spit. Every inch of Sylus’ cock is covered by some sort of drool. Gojo is always trying to outshine his female counterpart. He even growls at Y/n when her tongue trails a bit too close to his side of Sylus’s cock.

THWACK

The slap leaves Gojo’s cheek red and his bottom lip jutting out in a fight.

“Play nice.” Sylus snaps, grabbing the other man’s jaw to turn him back to his objective.

Y/n is the first to try and take his cock down her throat, eyes watering at the burning stretch of him entering her throat. Gojo is ever the instigator. He draws his tongue back in his mouth and pulls Y/n’s hair off of her shoulders, using it as leverage to move her mouth up and down Sylus’ cock.

Before long, Y/n is sniffling and sniffing over his cock while Gojo is teasing her. “Aw, Kitten,” he mocks the nickname Sylus uses for her. “I thought you told me you were better at sucking cock? Don’t pass out now~!”

Sylus would usually punish the blue eyed man for picking on his precious Kitten like that, but he was so close. Gojo was cruel, mean even. With his free hand he ran his fingers across Sylus’ taunt sac, urging him closer to release.

His balls tightened and his fingers dug into the arm chair. His hips bucked up, chasing the high and warmth of Y/n’s throat.

Instead of emptying his load into her mouth, he pulled out last second and shot long, stringy ropes of hot cum over both hers and Gojo’s eager face and tongues. He grunted at the image.

“Dirty sluts, what am I going to do with you?” He murmurs, watching Gojo eagerly clean Y/n’a face with his tongue, despite her weak complaints.

[nottswitch]

Hey! Congratulations on 1k!! Can you do 26 and 34 with Enzo and make it fluff? Thanks!

the way i got so excited when i got this 😭 thank you babe !!! it’s actually my first time writing for enzo so i hope i did a good job.

26. "come to bed." 34. "come here, idiot."

warnings: fluff, drinking, wasted enzo, cursing

⟡ navigation ; m.lists ; enzo m.list ; prompts (closed)

"fuck off, enzo."

"baby, pleeeease…"

you sighed, clenching your jaw to the point it started to hurt a little. another knock on the door. your infuriating, stupidly drunk boyfriend was currently camping outside of your dorm, gracing it with loud knocks from time to time. for the last hour.

"enzo, leave," you muttered through gritted teeth, almost pressing your lips against the wood of the door, so that no one would hear you. although, thanks to lorenzo, your argument and his pleading had probably woken up the entire house already.

"no," his slurred yet stubborn voice muttered for the millionth time this night. "i won’t-" hiccup. "i won’t leave un-" another hiccup. "until you forgiiiveee me…"

you could hear the sound of a body slumping against the door and onto the floor. the fucker really was planning to spend the night there, wasn’t he? you leaned your forehead against the door as well, letting out a sound that resembled a groan.

"you’re an idiot," you mumbled, not really planning for him to hear it. but he did anyway, judging by the sounds of shifting in the corridor and a soft thump against the wood.

"babyyyy," lorenzo whined, his palm sliding down the smooth surface of the door. "i promise i won’t even look at a girl ever again… i’ll make an unbreakable vow if that’s-" yet another hiccup, followed by a burp. you couldn’t help a slight chuckle, quickly schooling your expression back to irritation. "if that’s what you want, my love, my precious little sunshine…"

you rolled your eyes, straightening yourself up and pulling the door open. lorenzo, who was half-crouching, half-kneeling on the floor, almost fell into your dorm, barely having time to support himself with his hand on the floor. he slowly looked up at you, his lips spreading in a wide yet sheepish grin, his glossy eyes gleaming in the dim light of your room.

"babyyyy…"

"come here, idiot."

you bent down to take his hand in yours and pull him up into a standing, albeit wobbly position. lorenzo leaned on you, his head swaying in the air as he brought his face closer to yours, his grin turning into a smirk. you scrunched up your nose, a strong scent of alcohol penetrating your airways and making you cough.

"you stink," you declared, leaning back to get rid of the stench emanating from your annoying, wasted boyfriend.

"and whose fault is that, hm?" he drawled, trying to get close to you again and letting out a frustrated whine when you grabbed his chin to push his face away.

"come to bed, yeah?" you grumbled, tugging enzo by your side towards your bed. he followed obediently and plopped down onto the mattress even before his legs hit the edge of it. "you gonna undress me now, hm, baby?" he asked, trying to sound seductive, but in reality, coming off as a drunken, already somewhat slumbered mess that he was.

you ran your hand over your face and sighed in frustration. that was going to be a very long night.

[whitecompri]

I've been feeling down in the dumps lately, and whose fault is that? Shadow the (fictional) hedgehog of course. Like, maybe I'm a delicate little flower who needs to be treated as such and maybe who doesn't appreciate not being treated as such. So I would like to please request a scenario where reader feels unloved and Shadow apologizes for being too mean, awful, terrible and stupid as a (fictional) boyfriend. I'd also like to request that for Scourge but I'm not mad at Scourge ♡ I love Scourge ♡ I'm glad he never does anything wrong and is notoriously such a good boyfriend and gentleman. ^^

Jokes aside whether you write this or not have a wonderful day! And if I've never commented it before I'm SO glad you write for Scourge

After the Silence

Pairing: Shadow x Reader; Scourge x Reader

Genre: Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst

Rating: T (Teen)

Warnings: Swaring, Neglect / Emotional Hurt

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I really tried to capture the emotional depth here, especially because I’ve been through a complicated relationship myself, and I know what it feels like in those moments. I’m also so happy to see that Scourge still has a loyal fanbase. Honestly, I started writing stories with him because I felt like there wasn’t enough content out there featuring him, and I’ve been having a blast doing it. I’ll definitely keep writing about him! Hope you enjoy the story!

Shadow

You stretched your arms, yawning early in the morning with a satisfied groan, a wide smile already plastered on your face — after all, it was the first day waking up in the new apartment with your boyfriend. Tossing the blanket aside, you nearly leapt out of bed, breathing in the scent of new furniture and a brand new day.

Humming softly, you made your way to the kitchen, already catching the strong smell of coffee beans from the black hedgehog. It didn’t take long to spot him standing at the kitchen counter with a jar in his hand, pouring the beans in to eat them.

Smiling when you saw him, you approached and opened your arms, wrapping him in a back hug, resting your face against his soft quills. But it was noticeable how his body tensed up at your touch, Shadow immediately stopping what he was doing.

“Good morning, love... I was thinking maybe we could go out today, just the two of us…”

Shadow placed a hand over yours on his stomach, but instead of holding it tightly like you expected, he gently removed your hand from his fur, subtly stepping forward, making you let go of him.

Your brow furrowed instantly, and your smile faltered for a moment, but you understood that sometimes Shadow was pretty reserved. Maybe he just didn’t like physical contact in the mornings. Your smile returned quickly — after all, thinking positively, these first few weeks would be about adapting, learning each other’s habits, routines, and how to live together.

So you brushed aside the feeling of uncertainty, focusing instead on his answer. He’d probably say yes — he never passed up a chance to spend time with you when you lived in separate homes.

"Hm, no. I have work." He said briefly, not even looking at you, and your eyes widened slightly. The joy on your face began to fade. But you understood — he had responsibilities too.

"Oh, okay, no problem, maybe another time." Scratching the back of your neck, you forced a little smile that he didn’t even see, still focused on his coffee.

“Maybe.” Shadow muttered softly. He opened his mouth to say something more but held back, shaking his head slightly before simply taking his jar and heading to the table, sitting down casually to eat.

Sighing quietly, you grabbed your own coffee grounds to prepare your daily dose of caffeine, hoping things would get better from there. It had just been a rough start — Shadow was probably tired from the sudden change in environment. At least, that’s what you hoped.

--*--

Later that day, you were sitting beside him on the couch. Shadow was watching some movies on TV, arms crossed, with his usual impassive expression. You, on the other hand, scrolled through your phone, checking social media to amuse yourself while enjoying his company.

Sometimes your shoulders touched when he shifted slightly, and even that small contact made you feel incredibly comforted. That was already a big step — you had thought he’d be more affectionate after moving in together, but he remained as reserved as ever.

That’s when your eyes landed on a funny video on your feed. You watched the prank and giggled softly, smiling brightly. Then you turned to your boyfriend, showing him the screen.

"Look at this prank, Shadow — the guy at the end is the best part." But your joyful expression quickly faltered as you focused on his disinterested face.

“...Funny.” He said, glancing briefly at the phone without much reaction, arms still crossed. He didn’t even wait for the video to end, turning back to the TV.

Your heart sank a bit — never in your whole relationship had he reacted like that. Then again, maybe you had never tried showing him anything while he was watching movies. So you assumed he just wanted to focus on what he was watching.

Sighing softly, you slowly pulled your hand back, trying to refocus on your socials, even though a faint sadness lingered. But it was only the first day — you were sure things would get better as you settled into your new life together.

--*--

A few days had passed in this strange new dynamic between you. You walked down the street, bundled up in your coat, carrying groceries in your left arm. Your footsteps crunched against the thin snow on the sidewalk, your mind wandering as you reflected on everything that had happened in just a few days.

Sure, Shadow still showed small signs of affection like always — light kisses, gently holding your hand, sleeping close to you — all in his own way. But all of that while you neglected your own needs for affection. When you agreed to live together, you’d imagined the relationship taking a big step forward. You thought he’d start hugging you more, or expressing his feelings more openly.

But none of that happened. He was still the same — maybe too much the same. And you didn’t know if you appreciated or resented living with him this way.

Sighing, you reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. Swiping your thumb across the screen, you found the contact you wanted, smiling softly at his name. Your fingers quickly typed:

“Hi love, is everything okay?” You sent the message, noticing he was online at that moment. Watching where you were going, you kept walking until, a few minutes later, your phone buzzed. You looked at the screen, and your brows furrowed at his reply.

"Yeah."

Another sigh in such a short span of time escaped your lips, and you typed again:

“Are you home already?” You hit send, glancing both ways before crossing the street.

But this time, your phone didn’t buzz again. You’d been walking for quite a while since sending the message, but there was no reply. Thinking it might be a phone glitch, you checked the screen to see what was happening.

And once again, your heart sank. The message had been seen — the little “read” checkmark was there — but he hadn’t responded. Biting your lower lip in frustration, you just kept walking. Once again, you decided to ignore it. There was no point in arguing about something like that.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you continued your path, just wanting to get home as soon as possible.

--*--

That night, you sprawled out on the couch, still wrapped in your coat, watching the evening news. The lights were off, leaving the living room lit only by the television glow. The kitchen light was on, but didn’t quite reach your cozy little corner, keeping you nestled in a comfortable darkness.

That’s when you heard the front door unlock and open with its usual creak. His footsteps echoed on the wooden floor, letting you know where he was heading. Shadow stopped by the kitchen table, narrowing his eyes when he didn’t see you anywhere obvious. He placed the keys down and walked toward the living room, finally spotting you curled up in the corner of the couch, watching the news.

He stood for a few moments in the doorway, waiting. Normally, in the last few days, when he came home, you would greet him with a quick hug at the door, followed by a kiss on the lips.

Confused by the change, he raised an eyebrow when you didn’t move at all.

"I'm home..." he finally said, waiting for your response.

"Hm..." was the only sound you made, causing Shadow to frown, confused. He walked over to the couch and sat in his usual spot, arms crossed. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, waiting for you to scoot over and sit next to him — but you stayed in the far corner, curled up, elbow resting on the armrest with your hand supporting your face.

And what bothered Shadow the most — what made him swallow hard — was the realization that you hadn’t said a word to him. You didn’t ask about his day. You didn’t flash that bright smile he loved so much. And now, the space between you on the couch felt huge.

Subtly, he adjusted his posture and scooted a little closer — but almost immediately, you pulled back even more. His red eyes scanned you, now tinged with concern. He knew he should say something, but... what?

Letting out a quiet sigh, Shadow decided to give you space. Maybe you were just tired.

--*--

At the end of that day, you finally allowed yourself to truly relax, lying down on your side of the bed, curling up under the covers, turning to face the wall, with your back to the door and to Shadow’s side of the bed.

A few minutes later, the soft sound of the hedgehog’s bare footsteps could be heard. He stopped in the doorway, his shoulders slumped slightly, and his ears briefly drooped backwards when he saw you.

He stood there for a few moments, just watching you, finding it strange. After all, you usually stayed up waiting for him, usually wanting to talk about something. But not today. Today, you had gone straight to bed, and that deeply unsettled him—especially the part where he wouldn’t get his usual goodnight kiss.

Letting out a quiet sigh, he finally moved, lying down on his side of the bed. He slowly turned his face in your direction, hoping for some comment, some reaction, anything.

“Good night…” the hedgehog whispered softly, but was met with only silence. And that silence was cold—colder than the night outside. He looked at you for a few more seconds, his eyes softening slightly as he watched you sleep.

Then, with one last slow, quiet breath, he settled down on his side, keeping some distance between you, unsure if he should touch you.

But he couldn’t sleep all night. He tossed and turned in the early hours, eyes closed, trying to relax, but the uncertainty gnawing at him stole any chance of rest.

Until he noticed the mattress shift beside him, the rustling of the covers making a soft noise, followed by footsteps crossing the room. He peeked one eye open, watching you walk. His sensitive ears twitched as he heard the kitchen cabinet, then the sound of water—just a trip to quench your thirst.

Closing his eyes, pretending to be completely asleep, he tried to relax, not wanting to alarm you. Then, he heard your footsteps returning, and once again you slipped under the covers.

That’s when he heard it. It was quiet, but noticeable to his hedgehog hearing. A sniffle. His heart tightened. It was the sound of someone crying. He immediately wanted to turn and ask why, but stayed frozen in place, not wanting to startle or upset you further.

“...I just wanted you to care…” you whispered. Shadow’s mouth opened slightly in disbelief, his whole body froze, and a wave of dread swept over him. He felt the urgent need to fix this. But for now, he let you fall back asleep, while he lay awake all night, planning how he was going to make things right.

--*--

The hedgehog stood on the balcony, arms crossed, feeling the cold breeze ruffle his quills. He sighed and closed his eyes. Just as he expected, he hadn’t slept. So he’d come straight to his favorite place to think, to plan what he was going to say.

“I do care…” he murmured to himself, then twisted his muzzle and clicked his tongue. “No, that sounds too simple.” He let out an exasperated sigh.

Opening his eyes again, he glanced back into the dark apartment, tapping a finger against his forearm, impatient to rehearse what he’d say to you.

“She can’t think I’m just saying it… What if I just…” He pondered, but then clenched his teeth and shook his head. “No. Enough hiding. She needs to know. She deserves it.”

That tight feeling returned in his chest—guilt. He never meant to hurt you or anything like that.

Uncrossing his arms, he looked up at the night sky with a determined gaze. He already knew what he had to do.

--*--

The next day, by late afternoon, you once again found yourself curled up in your usual spot on the couch, turning on the TV, tugging your jacket close. But then, the front door unlocked and opened—you raised an eyebrow. He was home early today.

Shadow walked slowly through the door, stopping there with both hands behind his back, his eyes softer than usual. He cleared his throat to catch your attention, and your eyes locked on him. Did he look… nervous?

You confirmed it—he really was showing signs of slight nervousness for the first time, as he hesitantly stepped into the living room, still with his hands behind his back.

Finally standing in front of you, he brought his hands forward to show you what he’d been hiding. In his hand, he held the stems of a beautiful bouquet, small purple flowers giving off a sweet, familiar scent.

“I… I brought this for you. They’re… lavender. I thought you’d like them.” He offered the bouquet.

Your hand reached out hesitantly to take it, gripping it tightly. You couldn’t hide the expression of surprise that came over you. Immediately, you felt a lump in your throat, and your eyes welled up with tears, no matter how hard you’d been trying to hold them back.

“...Shadow?” you whispered, clutching the bouquet to your chest.

He quickly sat down beside you on the couch—very close—his red eyes locking onto yours.

“I know I’ve been acting like an idiot. I realized it a little too late. But… I never meant to hurt you. Never.” He clenched his eyes shut, grinding his teeth, then looked back at you. “I’m not good at this kind of thing… with feelings. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care. Because I do. Way more than I can say.”

One of his hands gently rested on your cheek, stroking it lovingly, while the other extended toward you, somewhat hesitant.

You looked down at the hand he offered, waiting to hear what he’d say next.

“Don’t give up on me. Just give me a chance to show it. Even if it’s little by little.”

His voice was low and hoarse. You reached out your trembling hand and grasped his firmly, your tear-filled eyes meeting his hopeful ones.

Then, he brought your hand to his muzzle, pressing a long kiss to the back of it, whispering, his voice muffled.

“...Forgive me.” He kissed your hand again, the soft touch melting your heart completely.

Then he looked at you again, reaching for the bouquet and gently placing it on the coffee table. To your surprise, he pulled you into a tight hug.

The hedgehog sighed deeply, holding you tightly—almost possessively—his muzzle nestled in the crook of your neck as he breathed you in, letting your scent fill his lungs.

“I’m not going to lose you. Ever. I… love you, in my own way… but it’s real love.”

With those words whispered so quietly into your ear, you couldn’t disagree—not after today. Shadow had his own way of handling things—it was simply who he was. And that included loving you deeply.

And you were absolutely sure that from that day forward, he’d be a little clingier than usual with you.

And how did you know that? From the way he held you, not wanting to let go, clutching you against him, anchoring himself to you.

To you, it was clear—he craved gentle, affectionate physical contact like this. He just never knew how to ask or receive it.

And so, the two of you stayed like that—entwined—your hand gently smoothing his quills, soothing your closed-off and stubborn boyfriend, whom you would never stop loving.

Scourge

You were walking calmly down the sidewalk, feeling the pleasant warmth of the morning sun on your back. A soft smile was on your face—after all, you were excited to see your boyfriend that weekend. Seeing Scourge was always a great reason for your day to become brighter and more fun, so you could hardly wait to get to his apartment.

After a few more minutes of walking, you arrived at your destination. Climbing the familiar stairs of the apartment building, you finally reached the door. With a cheerful and content expression, you knocked on the door and waited.

Not even a minute later, you heard the sound of the door unlocking, followed by a creak as it opened, revealing the one you were eager to see. His messy green quills appeared first, followed by your boyfriend’s blue eyes and his serious expression as he looked at you.

"Hey, babe," he said quietly, his voice raspy. You sensed a hint of disinterest but chose to brush the thought aside.

"Hey! The day is so nice today, right? The sun feels really good..." You tried to start a conversation, your smile still on your face, but he just crossed his arms and turned his head, focusing on the TV in the living room. You could hear the sounds of the movie he was watching, and he barely paid attention to what you were saying.

"Wow, thrillin’. Now c’mon, just get in already." He gestured with his hand, pointing his thumb toward the inside, then turned completely around and went back into the apartment without another word, leaving you at the door, alone.

He flopped back onto the couch, adjusting his sunglasses on his head and rolling up the sleeves of his jacket.

You watched him, your smile slowly fading as you processed what had just happened. Your shoulders subtly slumped as a tight knot formed in your throat, making it hard to swallow. Finally, you decided to step inside, locking the door behind you. Taking a deep breath, you chose to just forget what had happened.

You knew your boyfriend—knew that he was often like this. But it was the first time he had acted like that right when he saw you.

Entering the apartment, you followed him into the living room where he was watching some random comedy on TV. Hesitant, you observed how relaxed he looked—one arm thrown over the back of the couch while the other rested on his leg. You pondered whether you should sit beside him or leave him there for now and do something in the kitchen.

Sighing again, you finally decided to join him. Sitting next to Scourge, almost instantly the arm that had been on his leg moved up to wrap possessively around your waist. Your face lit up with a brief smile, enjoying how he always took the initiative when it came to this kind of contact.

Then, you looked at his focused expression. Enjoying the lighter mood, an idea came to mind. You wanted to be closer to him, to feel the warmth of his arms around you, the little kisses he’d place on the top of your head, the way he’d sniff your hair. Those pleasant thoughts filled your mind, making you want to get even closer, until you finally gathered the courage to ask.

"Hey, love, can I hug you?" you asked softly. Scourge turned to you, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t seem thrilled by the idea; apparently, to him, the small touch on your waist was enough.

"Why? Ya get too clingy sometimes, y’know?" He replied briefly, his tone somewhat harsh.

At his response, you shrank back into your seat, a deep ache forming in your chest. Your expression fell as your eyes shifted to the floor in front of you. A smile tried to return to your face but didn’t last long, quickly crumbling into another sad expression.

Your gaze lifted to focus on his apathetic and absorbed face, trying to understand why he didn’t want to hug you anymore. The ache in your chest intensified. You felt the urge to get up and put some distance between you, but you didn’t want to take any drastic action and come off as dramatic. So, you just sat there, his hand resting on your waist, but without the familiar warmth of his love.

It must have just been a stressful day for him—better to give him some space and not push things. Maybe by tomorrow, he’d feel better. That’s what you believed, what you wanted to believe.

--*--

You practically threw yourself onto your bed at the end of the day, groaning in frustration, completely disappointed with the day you had with your boyfriend. A day you had hoped would be peaceful and pleasant had turned into nothing more than hours of stress.

Hugging your pillow, you curled up, the day’s memories playing through your mind—the cold look he gave you, the disinterest in what you said. That’s when your mind began to wander, trying to recall earlier moments with Scourge, trying to see if there was any reason for him to act like that—something you might have done.

But after minutes of reflection, the only conclusion you reached was that he had always been this way—today just made it more obvious than ever. Today, it had truly affected you, hurt you deeply like a blade’s cut.

Sighing, your hand reached for your phone, opening your messaging app and looking at the message you had sent him.

"Good night, love. Are we still going to the mall tomorrow?" You reread the message, noticing that it had been over three hours since you sent it. He hadn’t even seen it. Your eyes drifted upward slightly, seeing the status that said he had been online about fifteen minutes ago.

A deep sense of abandonment and uncertainty overtook you. A few small tears threatened to fall from your eyes, but you held them back—not wanting to feel too weak.

Then, your eyes filled with determination, your fingers beginning to type again. You knew that if something he did or the way he acted made you feel bad, the best way to fix it was to name the problem and talk about it with Scourge. Much better than bottling everything up and never saying a word.

So, you finally sent the message.

"Scourge, I wanted to say something. I just wanted a bit of affection, you know? That’s all. A hug, a kiss… and I want to do that for you too."

Your eyes stared at the message nervously, a cold sensation rising in your stomach—a feeling of anxiety and unease.

Then finally, the online icon appeared. He read the message shortly after. The typing indicator popped up right away. Your eyes filled with hope. Maybe now was the moment—maybe he’d finally see that he needed to give you more attention, that he wanted you close, that he wanted your affection. Your eyes scanned the screen eagerly, waiting for the message.

"Yer too damn soft sometimes. Can’t spoil ya every minute, y’know?"

The moment your eyes read the message, the world around you stopped. Your breath hitched briefly as that same ache from earlier returned—now stronger.

Your finger pressed the power button on the phone, slipping it under your pillow. Curling into yourself, you looked toward the wall of your apartment, focusing on the shelf there, holding a photo of a smiling Scourge hugging you, his muzzle nestled into your neck.

Maybe he was just tired. Maybe he didn’t realize how dry and harsh he sounded. Or maybe you were expecting too much. Maybe the problem was you.

That’s when you felt a stubborn salty tear slide from your eye, silently falling down your cheek and onto your bedsheet. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to cry anymore, but it was hard to hold it back. Your teeth clenched as you began to sob involuntarily, quietly under your blankets.

And maybe that was the end of everything. You had always known Scourge was a complicated figure, and still, you gave him a chance. You thought everything was going well. But now, all you could feel was that you were wrong—that you were foolish for believing he would ever change.

With the emotional exhaustion of the day, you fell asleep within minutes—destined to wake up with a pounding headache and puffy eyes from how long you had cried.

--*--

Days had passed since the tragic message. Scourge's blue eyes scanned the clock, noting the time — it would be dark soon, and that pleasant Saturday night would be perfect for a stroll. The hedgehog tossed his video game controller to the side, stretched, scratched his waist, and then smoothed down his quills. He reached for the cellphone on the coffee table, raising an eyebrow when he saw no messages from you. In fact, he hadn’t seen a message from you in days.

Shaking the thought from his head, he opened the messaging app, seeing the last message he had sent last Saturday. Since then, you hadn’t sent him anything. But Scourge just clicked his tongue at that, assuming you were just a little upset.

His fingers quickly typed a message and sent it to you.

"Babe. Same spot as always. 7 sharp. Don’t be late." He got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, still holding his phone, looking at the message, waiting for your usual quick reply.

But minutes passed, and Scourge started getting impatient, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the phone screen, waiting for your reply — but you hadn’t even seen the message. Looking up, he raised an eyebrow — you hadn’t been online in hours, many hours.

Something twisted inside him, something akin to worry. But he quickly shoved that feeling aside, getting irritated.

"Tch. Must be cravin’ attention… typical o’ ya." He turned off the phone and set it down on the kitchen counter, arms crossed, tapping his foot impatiently while his eyes darted around the kitchen. He didn’t know what to do in that moment, or how to react, so he just stood there.

That’s when his phone buzzed on the counter. In less than a second he had turned and snatched the device up — but let out a disgruntled growl when he saw it was just a random social media notification.

He slammed the phone back down on the counter with force, huffing. Turning around, he stormed off to get ready. Even though you hadn’t replied, he was sure you’d seen the message — and you always showed up to your meetups, so he had nothing to worry about. You’d be there. He was sure of it.

--*--

The hurried steps of his shoes echoed on the sidewalks lit by the last rays of the day’s sun. He wanted to walk faster, wanted to see you already. He’d checked his phone several times, but still nothing — no message from you, no reply. Just thinking about it made him clench his fists in irritation and growl lowly, grinding his teeth.

He had never been through this before. You had never done this to him. Why now — why now of all times — had you decided to just stop talking to him?

He turned the last corner, looking at the meeting spot. He frowned when he saw no sign of you on the benches in the square. Getting closer, he stopped, looking around, grumbling.

With a heavy sigh, he plopped down on the bench, pulling his phone from his jacket pocket, staring at the screen with an annoyed look. He opened your contact, getting ready to type something, ask where you were, try calling you, anything. But then his eyes locked onto an older message from you.

A question he didn’t even remember you asking, one he hadn’t answered. His thumb scrolled up, reading the other messages. Some he had ignored at the time and forgotten, others he just wasn’t in the mood to answer.

But what mattered was what his eyes were now seeing — that massive amount of messages you had sent, left unanswered, or ones he replied to in a cold, harsh way because he wasn’t feeling patient.

After a few more seconds scrolling through the conversation, his expression of irritation was replaced by one of deep dread. He ran a hand through his quills, gripping some of them nervously. After all, he understood now — he finally understood. His throat let out a sharp, guttural sound of despair as his mind processed what he had probably done.

And now, all he felt was the emptiness of that night — the morbid silence, the chilly breeze making him shiver slightly. And that made him realize that maybe, just maybe, he had really lost you this time.

--*--

He paced in circles in the small bathroom, his hand scratching incessantly at the scars on his chest, feeling them itch nonstop. He stopped in front of the mirror, finally focusing his blue eyes on the anguished expression he wore. Growling, he gripped the edges of the sink, claws digging in.

He was without his glasses, without his jacket, without his gloves — just staring at the desperate hedgehog within. He had to find a way to fix this. After all, it had already been two weeks — two weeks without hearing your voice, seeing your joyful expression, feeling the warmth of your presence.

Each day without you, each day without a reply from you was torture for him. Every morning he woke up remembering he wouldn’t get to see you felt like a punch to the gut. He clenched his teeth, baring his sharp fangs at his own reflection.

"Idiot. Asshole… Dammit, ya did it. Ya pushed away the only one who actually gave a damn!" he yelled at himself, placing a hand on his forehead, gripping his fur. In a fit of rage, without a second thought, his hand clenched into a fist, flying toward the mirror, smashing it with a loud thud.

The mirror shattered, shards flying across the bathroom floor. Scourge closed his eyes, looking down, lowering his hand, not caring about the throbbing pain or the blood dripping from his knuckles.

“Shit…”

Turning around, he walked back to his room, shoulders slumped, breathing heavily. He sat on the edge of his bed, resting his hands on his knees. He slowly opened his eyes, looking around the room, turning to glance at your side of the bed — still carrying your scent.

"…This place’s nothin’ without ya… I’m nothin’ without ya." he finally admitted, closing his eyes again and shaking his head.

He sat there for several long minutes, doing something rare for him — reflecting on his actions and their consequences. And above all, on how he could become a better boyfriend for you at all costs.

"I know how t’fix this…" He opened his eyes quickly, shining with a determined air. He was going to try everything he could to get you to forgive him.

--*--

With a nervous look completely out of character for him, Scourge stopped in front of your door, carrying a few bags under his arm. Swallowing hard, he adjusted the collar of his shirt and finally knocked on the door.

In a few seconds, he heard light footsteps. Then, the doorknob turned, opening just a crack — your face appeared on the other side, and he swore he saw a surprised expression on you. He kind of understood why — after all, Scourge always said it was better for you to come to his place, so throughout the whole relationship, he’d never come to yours for any reason other than picking you up to go out sometimes.

So, slowly, you closed the door again, unhooking the chain lock and opening it once more, now facing him directly with an expressionless face.

Scourge gave a small smug smile, looking you up and down. Lifting the bags, he showed you the McDonald’s packaging, taking a tentative step forward.

"Hey, babe… I brought somethin’ to eat. Your favorite. I thought… I dunno, maybe we could forget ‘bout all this and..." His eyes widened and the smirk vanished from his face when you let out an annoyed huff, beginning to close the door again.

Overcome by desperation, he placed his foot between the doorframe and the door, stopping you from slamming it in his face.

"Wait—!" he said, his voice thick with emotion.

When you stepped back, realizing there was no way to compete with his persistence, you suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around you, pulling you close. Your hand ended up resting on his chest, feeling the deep scars that marked him.

Your eyes managed to glance behind him, spotting the fallen fast food bags on the ground, forgotten, while his muzzle nestled into the curve of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent. His fingers dug into your back, keeping you pressed against him, leaving you with little room to move.

"Just listen to me, would ya…? Please…" he said in a trembling voice you had never heard before. "I was a freakin’ idiot, a damn moron. But it ain’t ‘cause I don’t care—s’cause I care too much, alright? That crap scares the hell outta me." he said seriously, his tone sounding annoyed, but his voice was laden with emotion, showing that in truth, he was in complete despair.

The hedgehog pulled his face away from your neck just enough to focus his blue irises into your eyes, staring into you deeply.

"You’re the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me… and I was stupid ‘nough to almost lose ya. Just—give me a shot to fix this, yeah? I swear I’ll change. I swear… I’ll get it right this time." His hands clutched your shoulders, trying to anchor himself to you.

"...Scourge, I... I don’t know what to say..." you tried to avert your gaze, but his hand held your chin, lifting your face to look at him.

"Babe, I messed up. I know… I get it now. But I don’t wanna hurt ya no more. Don’t wanna be without ya. I swear, I’ll give ya all the hugs, all the kisses you want—hell, even the ones ya didn’t ask for." His eyes gleamed with hope as yours began to. "I’ll give ya whatever ya need… anything, alright?"

And once again, that stubborn tear rolled down, leaving a wet trail on your cheek. A huge wave of happiness filled your heart, warming you entirely. Suddenly, without thinking, you threw yourself into him again in a tight hug. Scourge gasped in surprise but quickly wrapped his arms around you.

"I love ya, [Y/N]… so damn much. I’ll show it better now, I promise…" He nestled his muzzle on top of your head, pressing a gentle kiss there. "Just… don’t leave me hangin’ like that again, alright? Bein’ without ya… drives me nuts…" he said hoarsely.

"I love you too... you dummy." Your voice cracked as you finally confessed too. Your arms tightened around him, making him let out a low, rough chuckle.

And so the two of you stayed there, sharing each other’s affection and warmth, savoring the company and love you had for one another—already aware that whatever came next would only make your bond stronger.

[1-800-local-slut]

Jenny bestie hear me out . Reader with the personality and powers of shadow the hedgehog 👀. So she would be an anti hero that refuses to work with anyone but has that romantic tension with main mark grayson . While invincible is trying to convince her to turn over to being a full hero , cecil and the guardians are trying to take out reader but are always failing to do so cause ain't no way they're reaching the ultimate life forms level of power 🤭 . So like basically like headcanons of mark trying to get reader to turn over to the good side while she's basically trying to kill the guardians and cecil losing his mind over not being able to control her .

Hiiii! I loved this, thank you for the request! I hope you can forgive the delay, I've been crazy busy but I'm trying my best lol. Anyways, this is going to be a mix of angst but mostly lighthearted cuz I've been writing way too much serious stuff later. Thank you for the request <3

Warnings: making out, slight angst, homicide attempts, fluff and good vibes, you've literally never been normal a day in your life

Note: Amber and Mark broke up before he goes to see the Thraxan's because I say this all the time: man, stealing is never the move. Also, you were created in a lab here (hence the whole ultimate life form thing) so you don't know everything about yourself, but you escaped to live your own life.

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📯 You and Mark know y'all wanna make out, it would be safer for everyone if you just did it

📯You don't get along with anyone. You're more of a reluctant ally. You help when it serves you. Mark helps when he's nearby, he's gotten better at letting other heroes handle it.

📯But when you do stir up trouble, Mark unfortunately is who they call to try and arrest you. He always fails, of course. He can't physically catch you, and when he does grab you by pure luck and speed then you get terrifyingly strong and put belt to ass. You don't even have to fight him all the time; you just always end up doing so

📯Lowkey they call Mark because the GDA knows you always get distracted by Mark even if you don't know

📯 You can literally escape at anytime but the opportunity to be close to him (even if it’s in a battle) makes your heart beat just a bit harder for some reason

📯 The trash talk? Oh my god, it's amusing to you both and you both like it. Your mouth is more reckless though, so you tend to say crazier shit than him. He loves hates when you explain why he can't beat you for the tenth time in a month.

"You ready to go to jail?!"

"Fuck you, you can't arrest me! I'm the ultimate life form!"

📯 The news is sick of y'all. The Guardians are sick of y'all. The GDA is sick of y'all. William and Eve are sick of y'all.

📯 When you two do get to team up, you both know you like it. You like working with someone who won't sell you out. Mark just likes you. But the other thing is, you only talk to Mark.

📯 When you all went to Mars, you kept your words minimum. Not like your usual sly comments. Mark was so ashamed to realize that he liked you not giving the other heroes the time of day. You kept everything to a brief five words or a 'hm.'

📯 You go back and forth with Mark, and Mark only. Like that’s the only person whose had a kind of conversation with you

📯 Your only actual issue with Mark is that he’s insisting on seeing the good in you. You aren’t exactly an evil person. You’re just more for following your own rules, and you also don’t trust the government.

“See? You can be good! You’re really good at it.”

As you’re carrying a group of wailing and coughing children out of a burning building.

“Their children.” Was all you said, and that was explanation enough.

📯 You don’t really like people. You don’t play nice with others. It’s not exactly your fault. But you tolerate Mark

📯He eventually is able to get you to not mind being around others. You even said 'hello' when walking into a room, but you blamed on being in a good mood for once.

📯 Slowly but surely you two were making progress. Baby steps as they say. You sat next to Rex one time and he went entirely still to avoid somehow irritating you into getting up. You're kind of like an unfriendly cat but when you are friendly it's the best feeling ever

📯 You're even getting along better with Cecil!

📯 You stop just walking out when he's speaking to you

"Piss off. I don't follow your orders."

Before you're skating out the door.

📯 Now you let him talk and just ignore whatever he's saying. Literally everything was great-ish. You and Mark weren't attempting to kill each other every other week; he's kind of like your safe space when you don't want to hang around randoms anymore

📯 Until you had some personal business to attend too, which led to you getting shot with a giant laser. But you're the ultimate life form so that beam felt like a mild sunburn to you.

📯 You aren't stupid, obviously Cecil fired that canon at you. He swore it was an accident "we weren't trying to hit you!" but that didn't really matter to you when he was dangling over the edge of a building

📯 That homicide attempt was an accident. But you don't take threats to your life lightly. It did nothing to you, except singed a few of the red streaks in your dark curls, but you still didn't appreciate it. PLUS the blue haired priss who followed you all the way from your home escaped with her life. You were going to have to see her again thanks to Cecil's interference. Safe to say, you were not pleased

📯 You stopped any type of heroism. Not because of a personal vendetta against the people of Earth, but you just couldn't trust it. Everything was a set up to you. You even stopped talking to Mark.

📯 The man was hurt. He couldn't even call you, he just missed you. You weren't his girlfriend. He shouldn't want to see you, shouldn't want you sitting next to him on a roof top after an arrest. He shouldn't want you the way he does, but absence makes the heart grow fonder.

📯 He missed you. He thought about stopping by your apartment. He thought about appearing in front of you under the cover of darkness and telling you how he feels. But you've been so on edge lately that he knew the second you laid eyes on him things would be different.

📯 Your sharp eyes wouldn't soften just a bit like they usually do. Instead, they would go wide with rage, you'd think it was a set up. He doesn't know your favorite food, your favorite color, he doesn't even know why you call yourself the ultimate lifeform.

📯 But Mark does know you. He knows how when something gets in the way of what you believe, you don't take kindly to it. He knows you stand for what you think is right. Knows how your nose scrunches just a bit when you think something is ridiculous. He knows your beautiful, and knows you know that your beautiful. The way your ruby irises follow your own reflection in mirrors is telling.

📯 And he knows after almost a year of knowing you, when you get paranoid or antsy it's best to leave you alone. So he does, he leaves you to your own devices for you to cool off. You clearly need sometime but you aren't getting that since your back on enemy terms with the government.

📯 It also didn't help when you caught Cecil spying on you, in revenge you attempted to curb stomp him, but Immortal decided that was the time to run a fade. He was quickly silenced, along with Black Samson. Mark's never seen someone use another person as a bat to slap another person, but he was impressed

📯 The girl he liked was currently at war with the government and his friends. Mark was choosing to stay out of it, plus he had to run. Off to save the Thraxans BUT those two months of absence were not fun for you. He saw you before he left though

"Why would I care that you're leaving?" You asked, brushing through your wet curls and spraying leave in conditioner into the plats. He watched as you used your fingers to distribute a hair mask through your hair and rustled through your hair products for a scrunchie.

Mark sighed, leaning against the fire escape of your apartment. For a crap hole building, you fixed it up really nice. It was a crap hole, but you were a pretty good thief. Good enough to steal appliances and furniture enough to cover up the state of the house. He's pretty sure you let your landlord keep living as a form of rent.

He was standing out there, under the stars outside your bedroom window. The brick and glass separating you two felt almost poetic. He would've stayed all night if there wasn't a spaceship waiting for him just five miles away.

For once you were at peace, and you looked so beautiful just calmly sitting and doing your hair.

"I don't know. I know things aren't great between us right now. But I...I don't know. It didn't feel right for me to leave without telling you."

You paused, biting your lip as your red eyes glanced down at the vanity you were sat at. For a moment he imagined you two were different people. Not Invincible and the anti-hero fans have taken to calling 'Streaker' (a name you have no solid opinions on), but Mark and the woman he wants to be with.

"When are you coming back?"

A beat of silence hung through the night. Wind pushed Mark's hair around his head, and the wind pushed through your window and rustled some random receipts on your dresser.

"Soon."

The sharpness of your eyes glanced over to Mark through your mirror, and you swallowed hesitantly. Eyelids fluttered shut before you recomposed yourself like nothing happened despite your obvious dissatisfaction with the lack luster answer.

Your fingers now brushed through a red portion of your hair, applying the cream to it before you finished the final braid and placed a shower cap over your head.

"Try not to die in space."

📯 Mark knew you'd get into it 10x worse with the GDA and everyone. No matter how much they insisted the murder attempt wasn't on purpose, you insisted they should've minded the business that pays them.

📯 Tells Cecil not to provoke you in the meantime.

📯 Mark was right, things got worse. You almost had to move due to how much they were spying on you. The other heroes did not like you; you were a loose cannon to them.

📯 You don't miss Mark (you run by his house sometimes on the way home just to see if he's back, you live the entire opposite direction)

📯 The only person who kind of understood you was gone. 'Soon', turned into two months. Why should you care? Mark wasn't your boyfriend.

📯 You've never imagined what it would be like to wake up next to him. Never thought about ditching all the bullshit and living somewhere peaceful together. Never had a strange dream about having a baby together (or a nightmare where he cheated on you)

📯 OH MY GOD YOU'D FLIP YOUR SHIT IF HE 'CHEATED' ON YOU

📯 You're 100% the jealous type over a man who you aren't with. You aren't the type to purposely disrupt his relationships. That's desperate and it NEVER gave that. But you smile just a bit when he fights with his girlfriend before they broke up.

📯 You want Mark to be happy of course. But if it can't be with you, then is he truly happy? You feel bad, it's selfish and you know it. You can't help it though. You two can't be together. You go after something when you want it, but you know who and what you are. You liked Mark too much to risk bruising your ego over a rejection that big

📯 You woke up pissed off for a week, you had a dream he hooked up with some alien broad with three boobs while he was up there and that's what was taking him so long.

📯It didn't matter how much you steeped in your own rage; you couldn't exactly yell at him. And you wouldn't have the right to do so either.

📯You were gonna beat his ass when he got back, how could he disappear for two months? Didn't he think about you? How could he leave you on this planet with a bunch of losers and people you hate for so long? Didn't he know your thread of self-control was already weak? Didn't he know he kept you under control? Didn't he know you needed him??? How could he! (you're literally delusional but it's okay because Mark is delulu over you too)

📯You're mad until you physically see him. You totally planned on whopping his ass for cheating on you in your dream and leaving for two months. But when you saw him, all you could do was nod in acknowledgment of his safe return. In your language you basically just hugged him

📯He appears on your balcony again. But this time things are different. You ushered him into your window.

He looks perfectly out of place. Rocking back and forth on his heels, he stood on the hard floor of your bedroom.

"I'm back."

"I can see."

Then nothing. Mark took the silence to notice something: he never realized that you were really soft on the inside. Well he knew. But right now, watching you paint your nails and inspect your toes, he was coming to an understanding. You were a normal person sometimes. And Mark was attracted to that version of you too.

"Listen, I'm sorry I was gone so long."

He wanted you to be mad at him. To grab him and yell at him just how badly you missed him. He found himself thinking of you every day, dreaming of you every night. You haunted his every moment. The memories of simple conversations, the few times you violated one another's personal space.

In addition to mentally missing you, he had been bone crushingly sad which he feels is fair considering everything he went through in a simple two months. So late at night, he imagined seeking comfort from your body.

Soft touches, eyes meeting, maybe a cheeky grin from you, something more.

"I kept myself busy." you informed him while you took a bite out of your hamburger that sat in a wrapper next to you after capping your nail polish, dragging him out of his dreams of you.

"I heard all about it. You didn't need to blow up that GDA truck you know, I don't know how you accomplished that."

You shrugged but he could see the devastatingly attractive glimmer of pride in your eyes.

"Like I said, I kept myself busy."

📯Now y'all know I'm a hopeless romantic at heart. So, I want to talk about the real romance between you two

📯Mark watches your back. He knows he can't hug you or catch you if you're falling. He can't even imagine you initiating a hug. He's not a touchy guy anyways so it's okay with him that you aren't hanging off of him. But Mark always will have your back

📯He knows you're the ultimate life form even if he has no clue what it means. But he doesn't miss the look in your eyes when he blocks a boulder flying at your head.

📯You get him gifts that aren't gifts. Essentials we'll say. He's bleeding heavily from the nose? You're stuffing tissue up his nose (albeit a bit roughly) before going back to whatever you were doing. He's hungry on a mission? You'll share your last snack with him. He's acting like a man dying of thirst? You're grabbing water from the closest convenience store and handing it to him soundlessly

📯You aren't great with Oliver at any age. When he's a baby you don't know what do with him, he seems to think your glowing red eyes are squishy toys. When he's toddler, he's a smartass and you're not loving it. But you do care for him, you just don't know how to show it.

"What's wrong with your eyes?"

"Oliver!"

"They're in my head, there's nothing wrong with them." You dismissed him while fighting a scowl. For a five-year-old he has a lot of question.

📯"Why are you so fast? Are you faster than Mark? Are you faster than my dad? Do you have a dad? Mark never said you have a dad. Where is your dad? Are you a mom? Are you and Mark dating? Have you two mated yet? How old are you? Can you teach me how to be fast? I'll teach you how to fly! Can you fly? What exactly are you?"

📯Before Mark or Debbie tell him to knock it off. You answer most of his questions though. A few you don't exactly know the answer to, so you just do your best with him.

📯Debbie doesn't know if she likes you. You're not Mark's girlfriend but she isn't blind, she knows her child.

📯The second he sees a beautiful black woman who would rather die before being walked over he's gone.

📯She doesn't judge you; she just can't really get a read on you since you rarely speak. Mark insists you're just nervous about meeting new people. You speak when spoken too but even then, it's hard to get a real sentence out of you.

📯BUT that all changes when you get hit with a car for Mark. A literal car flying at you through the air. You could've dodged it, sure. But you pushed Mark out of the way and the car landed on you with only your skates visible. Your legs flailed around comically, and you angrily told Mark to watch out for himself when he freed you a second later

📯Any woman who is willing to take a hit like that for Mark is alright in her book. She wants Mark to man up and ask you out already.

"She got hit by a car for you!"

"Mom, it's not like that. I don't want to freak her out, of course I like her but..."

"Don't be a scaredy cat Mark!"

"Shouldn't you be asleep?"

📯Okay now for the real juicy stuff: the relationship

📯You confess to Mark one day. Neither of you can get drunk, your body burns through it too fast, and Mark's body will heal him quicker than he can blink.

📯You're comfortable together. Comfortable enough to sit in silence together while everyone celebrates together. Eventually you even let him slightly touch you. No where close to hugging but you do let your skin touch in proximity

📯He wasn't paying attention, but you were stewing in what seems like anger all day. He's the only one who can handle you like this, so you sat with your arms crossed in agitation

"I want to go home." you scowled with the redness of your eyes intensely glowing like hot embers.

"How about we stay for a while, then I take you home." He soothed gently, rubbing your arm but it did nothing to calm you down.

"Why?!" You exploded and Mark jumped at your sudden outburst. The entire room went silent. You looked around, anger and embarrassment  flooding your face. Mark wasn't having the greatest time, but it was still nice to get together with everyone.

"The fuck are y'all looking at?" Before you hopped off the couch and with a streak of red light you were gone.

He followed because you have him hooked. He's never been fast enough to catch you; you tell him all the time he never will be. BUT you do seem to like flowers. He's found you in flower patches before just on a lazy day, lying around doing nothing. He's found you in a specific one in the woods by your house just a few times. The little clearing helps you clear your mind.

When he does find you, you're angrily pacing back and forth on a little worn path. For once not running. You stop once you hear him land behind you.

"What." It came out as a sharp snap, without facing him.

"What's wrong with you today?"

"Nothing's wrong with me. Go away."

"You can tell me."

In a rage you spun around eyes darting around as if looking for something to throw at him in an attempt to repel him. A frustrated huff crossed with an angry shriek was his answer as.

"What the fuck! Just tell me what's wrong, why are you being so difficult?!"

Your shoulders rolled before you stalked to the edge of the clearing with your back to him. He followed because like I said you have him whipped girl.

"I like you. I like you so much it pisses me off! We had a shit day, I got stuck in a sewer drain then you wanted to go hangout with everyone, why? I don't like them people, but I like you and wanted to make you happy. But honestly, I can't force myself anymore, okay?! I can't do it! I can't stand this shit!"

That was the most he ever heard you speak.

"We don't have to hang out with everyone."

"Don't patronize me. Fuck off." You laughed, your voice raw with what sounded like forming tears and your eyes now a dimmer red.

He floated over to you, where you kept your arms wrapped tightly around your body. You fought his arms, his affections. What, did you think he was about to hold you then laugh and say sike?

His eyes followed your face as you squirmed from the warmth of his hands.

"We don't have to hangout with anyone else. I just want to hangout with you."

📯From there you've been insufferable. It's so yucky. You literally don't care about anything else.

📯Remember how I said Mark isn't a touchy guy? I lied. He wasn't touchy before you, but he really REALLY likes touching you. He's always touching you, it's so annoying (you want to live in his skin but you have to stay nonchalant)

📯He's holding your hand, touching the small of your back, forcefully laying his entire body over yours while you try to nap, he might even lick the side of your neck for the fun of it.

📯You hate it (lie) but you get used to it. You even held your hand out for him to hold it once. Hell, you once opened your arms for a hug and he almost bawled.

📯Here's the crazy ass thing: when Mark gets you used to the touching then he can't get you to stop. He can be trying to shit and you're holding his hand

📯Even on the battlefield when you're supposed to be staying focused you were staring at him with those big red eyes.

📯Mark gets to see you being soft and normal and he's fallen deeper in love with you

📯When you wake up from a nap (after being able to sleep with him in the room) and your eyes are so sleepy and soft. You don't want to get up, and you're dragging Mark back into bed with you muttering something like 'no not yet'. Before you put on your makeup, without the sharp wings of your eyeliner, when you remove it and your face has a dewey glow of your skin care

📯Oh his favorite is when you're sleeping. He gets to look at you as much as he wants without you telling him to cut it out.

"What."

"I'm looking at you, I can't stare at my girlfriend?"

"No, what the fuck?" Before you're crinkling your face in disgust and rolling over so he can't look at you anymore.

📯But when you're sleeping, you're so cute. You're face smooshed against his chest, the red of your bonnet slipping (before he adjusts it) to give away to a streak of red hair in the front of your hair under the covers of black hair. You drool just a bit even though you'd never admit that though. You also sleep talk a little and he records it once. If he shows it to you, he fears you'll go feral

📯You like to climb on him. Only in the privacy of your bedrooms. Like if he's sitting, you'll climb onto his lap or neck.

📯You feel safe enough with Mark to be semi-calm with him. You still don't talk much but Mark can really get you talking. You try to fight it and keep it cool, but you just love him. You love him so much that your true self comes out

📯You even laugh, a high-pitched squeal that only comes out when you're truly happy. He always makes you laugh. In fact, you laugh so much that you almost got smile lines from the sheer amount of joy you felt. He's just such a good boyfriend.

📯He's there for you, understands that you don't feel the need to explain where you're from and doesn't push you, doesn't really want to know why you keep running fades with some random blue haired girl

📯Mark supports you no matter how many time's y'all fight he more so just cheers you on

📯You don't give a fuck about other people, you worried about yourself and your man that's it. He could be telling you the hottest tea and you'll fall asleep

📯It's so bad you'll be so out of the loop. Like you know nothing, and you don't care, you just listen because you want to listen to whatever he says even if it's in one ear and out of the other for you.

"Oh my God, I forgot to tell you. Robot cloned himself from Rex because Robot, who wants us to call him Rudy now, likes Monster Girl. But Monster Girl looks nine, literally looks like a little kid and he wanted to crack that, but he says it's okay because they're biologically the same age now? I don't know. I just feel like seeing a nine-year-old and wanting to hit that is so weird even if you're mentally the same age.

Stealing the DNA of a grown man because you think a girl who looks like a little kid likes him is crazy as Hell-"

Before you just pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Can we go back to making out? I don't care about this."

And he's so down bad for you that he has the dumbest grin on his face.

"Okay." With literally the biggest smile on his face, you love the effect you have on him. Then you two are touching each other everywhere. Literally everywhere, you never noticed how big his hands were before they were down your panties, and his fingers were inside of you.

📯Oliver hates how much you two 'mate' it's so gross. You two wanted each other for the longest time, now that you have this man you weren't going to waste the chance to rub up on him.

📯It embarrassed you so bad to not only want someone but ALSO want someone to do crazy shit to you

📯Mark wants you so bad too but you're both pretty busy. Well Mark is, you chose not to partake in society, but you have your own stuff that you do when he isn't around. But that does not stop you two.

📯It doesn't stop him from coming up behind you and pressing his boner into you, running his hands up your stomach and over your breast.

📯Ironically y'all do not have fast sex. I know the whole super speed thing makes it seem like you two would but you two love each other and want to spend as much time together possible. Privacy is very important to you two as well, so there's nothing going on in public. You want to enjoy it, not feel like it's just a cheap fuck and that's it.

📯Mark is just happy he gets to touch you. But no, he also wants to be gentle with you. He lets you take the lead because it makes you comfortable. He's just a man at the end of the day. He's happy to just lay with you. And he knows giving up power freaks you out.

📯So, if that means taking great pleasure in you setting the pace when he does sometimes want to go as fast as he can and watch you lose yourself, he also knows intimacy is a big step for you

📯But you do go fast sometimes. It just lasts long. Lots of screaming. You've gotten noise complaints.

📯He holds you afterwards. He rubs your back but doesn't say much. Over time you get very used to just taking it easy. More comfortable talking about your feelings. But after something like sex where you've just shown him every single part of you, he isn't gonna push you to do something you've just gotten used too. There is comfort in silence.

📯If you did speak or lash out after sex or maybe during then it meant you were upset and needed to talk it out. But Mark knows the less you say the better you're feeling after something like that.

📯Similar to how you two got together. Comfort in silence. Silence in sitting together, feeling each other and rubbing each other's soft skin until someone falls asleep. Usually, you first then Mark follows after making sure you're comfortable.

📯All in all: you two love each other. He's crazy over you, you're crazy in general. It works! You guys are the most sickening couple, you don't care whose around or what's going on you're gonna keep being a hater and stunting on these hoes.

📯You struggle with PDA, at most you'll hold hands, or he'll have his arm wrapped around your shoulder in public. Mark understands and he doesn't need to stick his tongue down your throat in public.

📯You try to get along with everyone a little better for his sake, but Mark knows you have a mutual dislike with almost everyone. Mark doesn't care either. You get along with William, his mom and brother, that's all that matters. Those are the people Mark would take with him on a desert island, he doesn't want no one else out there with him.

📯You become more of a hero instead of anti-hero because Mark won't let you hang vilians upside down in the name of good until police could arrive.

(Okay this is getting way too long y'all so we're gonna pack it up. But I would totally write a short story about this couple. Like a little day trip and when you two finally hold hands for the first time in public. That would be so cute.)

📯Ultimately, Mark loves you. He loves how you refuse to play nice, how you refuse to be something you aren't. He also knows better than to push you. You've been through it of course, but he knows you're trying. For his sake, you try, and he appreciates that. He loves you; he supports you, he's there for you no matter what.

📯You love Mark so much. He keeps you grounded; he doesn't take your anger to heart. You're push people away from fear, but Mark is glued to your sight. You couldn't pry him off of you with a crowbar. He accepts you; he gives you the love you need. You appreciate how he doesn't try to force things with you. He's supportive but lets you figure yourself out and everyone needs that sometimes. He's your safe place, you're his favorite person in the entire world.

[nosyp]

Tenure & Temptation

Warnings = dub-con (kinda), step-cest, hickeys, marking, close step sibling relationship, derogatory nicknames, cheating, mentions of negligent parents, edging, making out, smut, infantilization, controlling behaviour, creepy kita

Pairing = Kita Shinsuke x fem! reader

Summary = Your new home comes with more than just a change of scenery. It comes with Kita Shinsuke, your stepbrother who insists on keeping you in line, and a faculty full of dangerously enticing teachers who make staying out of trouble impossible.

Word count = 6.4k words (this bitch ---- aka me ---- wanted to fit loads of things into 1 so)

A/N = Genuinely the horniest shit I've ever written. I'm shocked myself. MDNI

"Ughhh, fuck youuu, I didn’t fuck him." You laugh into your phone, sprawled across the couch without a care in the world.

"Fuck who, sweetheart?"

The voice is calm, steady— almost too casual. You don’t even have to look up to know who it is.

You groan, rolling onto your side as you glare at your stepbrother. Kita Shinsuke. Ever since he joined your family, he’s never stopped hovering, always slipping into your business like it was second nature.

"None of your goddamn business, Kita." Your voice is sharp, but it doesn’t faze him.

He just tilts his head slightly, arms crossed over his chest in that annoying way of his. "Language." His tone isn’t scolding… just expectant. Like he’s waiting for you to correct yourself.

You ignore him, rolling your eyes as you bring your phone back up. "Oh my goodness, my brother’s so annoying, just ignore him."

Kita exhales through his nose, amused. "You say that, but you sure love an audience."

That makes you pause, but just for a second. But before you can snap back, he keeps going, voice softer this time.

"I’m just looking out for you. You should learn to appreciate it."

There’s no teasing, no smugness and it’s just the kind of quiet certainty that makes your stomach twist.

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say, you sick whore," you fire back, but the insult barely lands.

Kita just shakes his head, barely reacting. Instead, he leans against the doorway, watching you with something unreadable in his gaze.

"School starts next week," he says, voice even. "If you even care."

He doesn’t wait for your response, doesn’t press further. But he lingers long enough to make sure you heard him before turning away.

And somehow, that’s worse than anything else he could’ve said.

“Fuck that hoe,” you say before hanging up the call with your friend.

—

“KITAAA!!! Waitt!!” you yell across the hallway, hurriedly chasing behind him.

He stops in his tracks and turns around to face you. “Hm? What do you need?”

“F—F—Flip, I’m sorry.” you admit, unexpectedly letting those words spill from your mouth. “I… need help getting ready for school,” 

—

Kita’s brows lift slightly, the smallest flicker of surprise passing through his usually unreadable expression. He studies you for a moment, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re messing with him.

Then, after what feels like an eternity, he sighs. "Alright. Grab your stuff, we’ll go now."

You blink. "Wait… now? I thought you’d, like, scold me or some shit."

"You asked for help. I’m giving it to you."

You narrow your eyes at him. "You’re too nice. It’s suspicious."

"Or maybe you’re just too used to people saying no to you."

Ouch. Okay, that hit a little too close. You purse your lips and decide not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

—

"Do you even have a list?" Kita asks as you waltz through the school supplies aisle, grabbing random things with no clear plan.

"Kinda. In my head."

He exhales slowly, already regretting this. You are a menace.

"You don’t even need half of this stuff," he mutters as you toss a pack of pastel highlighters into the cart.

"Okay, but they’re cute."

Kita pinches the bridge of his nose. "You’re supposed to be buying things you actually need."

"I need aesthetic motivation to study."

"You don’t study."

You shoot him a grin. "And whose fault is that, Mr. ‘You Should Take School Seriously’?"

Kita doesn’t even dignify that with a response. Instead, he steers the cart toward the notebooks. "Pick out what you need. And don’t take a million years."

You hum thoughtfully, scanning the shelves before casually slipping a notebook into his hands.

He glances down. It’s pink. With glitter. And a little kitten on the cover.

He stares at you, unimpressed. "This better not be for me."

"No, it’s for you to buy for me," you say sweetly.

Kita actually looks like he’s considering putting you in the cart and leaving you somewhere in the store.

—

Buying clothes yada yada yada…

"Why are we here?" Kita asks, arms crossed as you sift through racks of skirts and blouses.

"Duh, new year, new wardrobe."

"You have more clothes than you can wear in a lifetime."

"And yet, nothing to wear."

Kita gives you the flattest stare possible.

You grab a short plaid skirt and hold it up. "What about this?"

Kita doesn’t even blink. "It’s a skirt."

"Yes, Kita, I know what it is. But do you think it looks good?" You do a little spin, holding it up against yourself.

He leans against the display rack, his gaze trailing over the fabric before meeting your eyes. "It’s fine."

You frown. "‘Fine’?"

"It’s a skirt. It serves its purpose."

"Oh my God, you’re impossible." You toss the skirt back onto the rack dramatically. "Why do I even ask you things?"

Kita just shrugs, unfazed. "I wonder that myself."

You grab a different skirt. It’s shorter, tighter aaaand you hold it up. "What about this?"

This time, he actually pauses. His gaze lingers just a fraction of a second too long.

And that’s when you know.

"Ohhh," you smirk, waving the skirt at him. "You have opinions on this one."

Kita does not react. But you see the way his jaw tenses.

"I never said that."

"You didn’t have to," you tease, watching him like a cat playing with its food. "You think it’s too short, don’t you?"

"I think it’s unnecessary," he says evenly.

"But you didn’t say ugly."

"It’s a skirt."

"Kita, you’re no fun." You sigh, dramatically pressing the skirt to your chest. "What if I wore it on the first day? Would you be embarrassed to be seen with me?"

"I’m already embarrassed to be seen with you."

You gasp. "You wound me."

Kita just shakes his head, pushing the cart away. "Hurry up and pick something before I leave you here."

You grin, skipping after him. “Of course I will,”

Kita follows behind you, his stride relaxed as you practically bounce toward the fitting rooms with an armful of clothes. He doesn’t say anything, but you know he’s thinking it. "What a pain."

"Are you actually gonna help or just stand there looking pretty?" you tease, flashing him a grin.

He exhales through his nose, arms crossing. "Not much to help with."

"Then at least look at me when I ask for your opinion, Grandpa."

"Language," he corrects, but you’re already disappearing behind the curtain.

You pull on the first outfit. It was a pleated skirt and a fitted sweater, cropped just enough to tease. You know what you’re doing. You want to see how much of that unreadable expression of his actually cracks.

Stepping out, you twirl. "Well?"

Kita’s gaze flickers up from his phone… just for a second.

"It fits," he says simply.

You narrow your eyes. He’s not even going to react? Not a single comment? No "That’s too short" or "Go change"?

"You’re impossible," you huff.

"And you’re predictable."

You scoff, turning on your heel, but not before catching it—

The slightest twitch of his fingers.

Like he was about to adjust your sweater. Or brush something off your shoulder.

Like he wanted to touch.

You don’t say anything. You just go back inside.

But your heart beats just a little faster.

—

You expect Kita to pay.

You assume he’ll pay.

So when the cashier rings up the total and Kita doesn’t move a muscle, you just blink at him.

"Kita."

"Hm?"

"Where’s your wallet?"

"In my pocket."

Your jaw drops. "What do you mean in your pocket?? Take it out."

He tilts his head. "I don’t recall agreeing to pay for all of this."

"You absolute con artist—"

He just raises a brow, waiting.

You scowl. You pout. You even try to give him those eyes.

Kita doesn’t budge.

With a dramatic groan, you check your phone. Not enough. You were so sure you wouldn’t need to pay yourself.

Kita exhales. "You really don’t plan ahead, do you?"

"I plan on spending your money."

He gives you one long look before finally— finally —pulling out his wallet.

"You owe me."

"I owe you nothing," you say, snatching the bags before he can change his mind.

He mutters something under his breath, but you’re too busy smiling to care.

—

The drive home was silent. Well, it was quiet for a while. The hum of the radio, the soft rhythm of the road beneath the tires. You watch the streetlights flicker past, fingers idly playing with the hem of your skirt.

"Thanks," you murmur.

It’s soft. Almost too soft.

Kita’s hands tighten on the wheel for half a second.

"Didn’t do it for free," he replies.

"Yeah, yeah," you murmur, resting your head against the window.

And for once, he doesn’t argue.

—

After a long, awkward drive home, you two finally arrive home. The house was quiet, only allowing the soft rustling of bags as you set them down on the counter. Kita followed behind, moving with that same slow, deliberate calm he always carried, as if nothing ever ruffled him. His keys clinked against the wooden surface, a soft sound that somehow made the silence feel heavier.

You could feel his gaze lingering on you, even as you busied yourself with your things. It was that steady, knowing look that made your skin prickle, the one that made your stomach twist up in ways you didn’t want to admit.

Still, you refused to be the first one to break. Instead, you let out an exaggerated sigh, stretching your arms above your head just enough for your shirt to ride up slightly, exposing a sliver of your stomach. You knew he noticed. He always noticed.

"What?" you asked, glancing at him over your shoulder.

Kita didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, his expression unreadable. "You always act out when you want attention."

Your lips curled into a slow, lazy smile. "And what if I do?"

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head, but there was something else there… something just beneath the surface. "You never know when to stop, do you?"

You took a step closer, closing the space between you, feeling the warmth of his body so close to yours. "Are you gonna stop me?"

Kita didn’t move. His breath was steady, his eyes locked onto yours in a way that sent a thrill down your spine.

"Should I?" His voice was lower now, quieter, but there was no hesitation in it.

Your fingers brushed against the fabric of his shirt, tracing the hem just slightly, just enough to test the waters. His hand caught yours, firm but not rough, his grip steady and unyielding.

The air between you thickened, growing heavier with something unspoken. His thumb brushed against the inside of your wrist, slow and deliberate, and for the first time, you felt your own confidence falter.

"You sure you know what you're doing, sweetheart?"

His tone was deceptively soft, but there was something deeper beneath it, something that sent a shiver straight through you. Your mouth felt dry, your pulse hammering in your ears.

But you weren’t about to back down now.

Your free hand trailed up his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath the thin fabric. "Maybe I do," you murmured, tilting your head slightly, your lips just shy of his jaw. "Maybe I’ve been waiting for you to do something about it."

Kita didn’t react right away. He just stood there, watching you, studying you with that infuriating patience of his. Then, slowly, his fingers tightened around your wrist, just enough for you to feel the weight of it.

"You really don’t know when to quit," he said, almost amused.

Your smile widened. "And you don’t know how to say no."

His grip on you didn’t loosen. If anything, it felt like he was holding back, like there was something simmering beneath his skin, something restrained. And that was the part that excited you the most.

"You wanna test that theory?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath caught in your throat, heat pooling low in your stomach.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

—

“Ugh— fuck— hmm… who knew you could be so sweet?” he moans out, shoving his tongue deeper inside your throat. His hands were travelling around your body, desperately grabbing at any inch of your skin to pull you closer.

“Y’know… we shouldn’t— ah—ugh!” you manage to say in between your gasps of air. You were seated on the kitchen counter, and he was standing between your legs. The feeling of the cold marble against your ass only made the situation better— wait, fuck, this shouldn’t even be happening. Your hands were on his chest, unmoving but still making contact.

He pulls away, eyes looking lovingly at you. “We shouldn’t be doing what?”

“T-this… it’s wrong…” you mutter. “Our parents just got engaged a few days ago…”

His lips ghosted over yours, teasing, lingering, like he was daring you to pull away. But you didn’t. Couldn’t. His hands, warm and firm, slid up the curve of your waist, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to make you shiver.

“Wrong?” Kita repeated, his voice low, dripping with amusement. “Then why aren’t you stopping me?”

You hated the way your body betrayed you, the way your fingers curled into his shirt instead of pushing him away. The way your breath hitched as his mouth moved lower, grazing your jaw, your throat, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

“We shouldn’t…” you whispered, but even to your own ears, it sounded weak.

Kita hummed against your skin, lips curving into a smirk. “Then tell me to stop.”

You opened your mouth— tried to form the words— but all that came out was a shaky breath as his teeth scraped against your pulse.

He chuckled, the sound dark and knowing. “That’s what I thought.”

One hand gripped your thigh, keeping you spread open for him, while the other traced lazy circles against your hip. He was slow, deliberate, drawing this out like he had all the time in the world.

"You think too much," he murmured, pressing a kiss just below your ear. "Maybe I should give you something else to focus on."

Your stomach twisted, heat pooling low, and before you could stop yourself, your legs locked around his waist, pulling him in. His breath hitched, fingers digging into your skin as he pressed closer, letting you feel just how much this was affecting him too.

“This is a bad idea,” you managed to say, but your voice was shaky, uneven.

Kita tilted his head, eyes half-lidded, dark with something unreadable. “Then why do you look like you want me to ruin you?”

Fuck.

Your grip on his shirt tightened, and before you could second-guess it, you crashed your lips against his, swallowing his smug little chuckle as he deepened the kiss, his hands roaming, claiming, making it very clear that this wasn’t stopping anytime soon.

His hands brushed over the collar of your shirt before you grabbed his wrist. “Mmh… I want you.”

“Say less princess,” the words roll off his tongue, hitting your ears in all the wrong but right places.

You knew he’s already pretty experienced with this type of thing, but you didn’t know he was this good. Now, you couldn’t help but feel jealous of his girlfriend. Wait. You forgot he even had a girlfriend. 

“W-wait… what’ll your girlfriend say about this…?” you ask in concern. Eyes scanning his face for any sign of disappointment, or maybe even regret?

“She can’t say anything about something she’ll never know.” he mutters, breath fanning your neck. You didn’t realise how close he got til you started to feel the heat radiating from him.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, the heat of his body seeping into yours. His lips found your neck, soft at first—just the faintest brush of warmth against your skin. But then, his teeth grazed your pulse point, and a sharp gasp left your lips.

"You like that, don’t you?" Kita murmured against your skin, his voice low, teasing.

You barely had time to process before his mouth latched onto the sensitive spot just below your jaw. He sucked hard, tongue flicking over the spot before his teeth sank in, just enough to make you arch into him. A moan slipped past your lips, and he hummed in approval, his grip tightening on your waist.

He wasn’t done. Oh he was so far from it.

His lips trailed lower, kissing, biting, sucking, marking you up like he had something to prove. Each new hickey sent a jolt of pleasure straight through you, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he worked. He moved with purpose, knowing exactly where to linger, exactly how hard to bite to make you shudder against him.

“Perfect,” he muttered, pulling back slightly to admire his work. The deep, dark bruises blooming across your skin, a stark contrast against your complexion. His thumb traced over one of them, pressing down just enough to make you whimper.

“U-ugh! K-kita… that hurts…” you whine, further turning him on.

Kita smirked. “Now everyone’s gonna know who you belong to.”

He pulls away, his lips swollen and slick, his breath warm against your skin. His eyes trail over the marks he’s left behind. He leaves a constellation of bruises, each one a silent claim. The ghost of a smirk plays on his lips, but he says nothing, just drags his thumb over the deepest one, watching the way you shudder beneath his touch.

Then, just as quickly as he had you pinned against the counter, he steps back.

“Get some sleep,” he says, voice impossibly even, as if he hasn’t just spent the last few minutes ruining you. “Big day tomorrow.”

Oh. That reminded you of tomorrow, the day that you’re supposed to enjoy. Putting two big events in less than a month should be a capital crime. How’d your mom let her wedding be in the same time frame as the first day of school?

Honestly, she could probably care less about you. You liked how she gave you freedom to do whatever you wanted, but it felt empty too. 

Your chest is still heaving, your fingers clenched against the cold marble, and yet he walks away. No final glance, no hesitation. The only sound being his footsteps fading down the hallway, leaving you in the suffocating silence of the kitchen.

You don’t move at first, don’t want to move, because the ache between your thighs is unbearable, and your skin still tingles where his mouth had been. But after what feels like forever, you push yourself off the counter, legs shaky as you drag yourself to your room.

You can’t sleep.

No matter how many times you shift positions, no matter how tightly you press your thighs together, you can still feel him. The heat of his breath, the weight of his hands, the bruises that throb with every beat of your pulse.

You toss.

You turn.

You squeeze your eyes shut, biting your lip, but it’s no use. His touch is still there, burned into your skin, into your mind. And fuck, you hate how much you want him to come back and finish what he started.

—

“Psst, wake up sleepy baby,” a voice shakes you awake. “You’ve only got like a few hours to prepare,”

Your eyes flutter open, still hazy with the remnants of a night spent tossing, turning, and biting your pillow at the memory of Kita’s hands on you. His mouth. His voice.

Fuck.

"C’mon the wedding’s gonna start soon," he continues, voice too calm, too normal. As if nothing happened last night. As if he wasn’t pressed up against you, whispering filth in your ear just to walk away like it was nothing.

Your stomach twists as you sit up, blinking at him through half-lidded eyes. He's already dressed, looking crisp and put together, like he hadn’t just left you hot, aching, and utterly wrecked in your own bed.

And now? Now he was waking you up like a doting older brother on the morning of your parents' wedding.

The audacity.

You groan, rubbing your eyes as you stare at him. He’s standing by your bed, arms crossed, looking at you like you’re some lazy little thing that needs to be handled. Like he wasn’t the reason you barely got any sleep.

"You're already dressed?" you mumble, voice groggy.

Kita tilts his head slightly, a slow smirk creeping up his face. "Unlike you, I actually went to sleep last night."

Your stomach churns at his words. Did he know? Had he heard the way you tossed and turned, the way you clenched your thighs together, haunted by the ghost of his touch? Had he smirked to himself in his bed, knowing he left you restless, wanting?

"Shut up," you grumble, throwing the blanket off and stretching. You make a show of it, arching your back, letting your shirt ride up just enough to reveal a teasing strip of skin.

Kita doesn't react. At least, not outwardly. But you catch the way his gaze flickers down for a split second before he schools his face back into neutrality.

"Get dressed," he says, turning for the door. "We leave in an hour."

You huff, swinging your legs off the bed. "You’re acting like you’re my dad or something."

His hand lingers on the doorknob. "Nah," he says smoothly, finally glancing back at you. "Your dad wouldn't let you act like a little brat."

And then, he’s gone.

You sit there, heart pounding, thighs clenching.

This wedding is about to be a fucking nightmare.

You didn’t look forward to the wedding at all. Not because you were sad that your dad was getting replaced or anything, but mostly because it meant you were bound to be with Kita. 

You were glad your mom found someone special, but it didn’t mean you had to either. Honestly, you had no idea how your mom was going to react if she knew what you and Kita were up to. You kinda wished the wedding never happened rather than the situation with your step-brother not happening. 

Time passed by so fast you barely even realised, so you had better speed up. Somehow, you managed to drag your lazy ass to the bathroom to get ready. Your feet slide against the polished wooden floor, leading you to the dark room. Your hands move over to the light switch, and you push up, turning the lights on.

Honestly, you just stood there, staring blankly at your reflection in the mirror. Not a single thought came across your mind, aside from the thoughts of the night before.

You barely have time to process the way your stomach twists before there's a knock at the bathroom door.

"Are you done yet?" Kita's voice is calm, but there's something to it. It was firm, expectant.

You blink at your reflection in the mirror. Your hair's a mess, your skin is still warm from sleep, and honestly? You don’t feel like dealing with anything right now.

"Not even started," you call back, dragging your fingers through your hair. "Why? You wanna help me scrub my back or something?"

Silence.

You smirk to yourself, thinking that you won this round, when suddenly, the door clicks open.

You barely have time to react before Kita steps inside, closing the door behind him. Locking it.

Your breath catches. "What the—?"

"You take too long," he says simply, rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt. "Figure I’d help."

Your throat goes dry. "You— you can’t just walk in here and—"

"Strip," he interrupts, like it's the easiest thing in the world.

Your heart stutters. "Excuse me?"

Kita raises a brow. "You heard me." His voice is calm, infuriatingly so, like he’s not asking. It’s like he’s giving you a chance to obey before he makes you.

"You—" You huff, crossing your arms. "You’re insane if you think I’m just gonna—"

Kita steps closer. Too close. His hands come up, slow, deliberate, until his fingers brush the hem of your shirt. He leans in, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach clench.

"You wanted to be taken care of, didn’t you?"

Your breath shudders. Fuck.

He doesn’t wait for your response. Of course he doesn’t.

Kita’s fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, pushing the fabric up, up… so painfully slow you think he’s doing it on purpose. You shiver when his knuckles graze your skin, when he tugs the shirt over your head and tosses it aside without a second thought.

The bathroom is warm, but your skin prickles under his gaze. Kita’s eyes aren’t hungry, well not exactly. He just looks… focused. Like this is just another thing he’s taking responsibility for.

His fingers brush the waistband of your shorts, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “You’re really doing this, huh?”

Kita meets your gaze, steady as ever. “You’re the one who keeps hesitating.”

Your mouth opens, ready to snap back, but then he’s kneeling in front of you, kneeling, and suddenly, the air feels too thick.

He doesn’t break eye contact as he hooks his fingers into your shorts and tugs them down. The fabric pools around your ankles, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. Too bare. Too exposed.

Kita doesn’t rush. He lets his fingers skim the curve of your hips, up the sides of your waist, as if memorizing you.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs. “Cold?”

“N-no,” you breathe.

His lips twitch, showing the slightest hint of amusement before he stands, stepping back to turn on the bath. You watch as he rolls up his sleeves further, testing the water with his fingers before nodding, satisfied.

“Get in.”

Your breath catches. “Aren’t you—”

“I’ll wash you,” he says simply.

And holy shit. Something about the way he says it makes your stomach clench, makes you step forward before you even think about stopping yourself.

The water is perfect. Warm enough to sink into, to let the tension melt from your muscles. You let out a slow breath as you settle in, watching as Kita kneels beside the tub, rolling his sleeves all the way up to his elbows.

You should say something. You should. But the words catch in your throat when he picks up the sponge, lathering it with soap before bringing it to your shoulder.

He moves slow, deliberate. The sponge drags across your skin, over your collarbone, down your arm. His fingers follow, pressing just enough to make you shiver.

“You’re quiet,” he murmurs.

You swallow. “I-it’s just… weird.”

“Weird?” Kita tilts his head, dipping the sponge into the water before bringing it to your chest this time, closer, deeper.

Your breath hitches. “Y-you know what I mean.”

Kita hums, pressing the sponge lower, just below your ribs. “I don’t think I do.”

His hands replace the sponge, fingers spreading across your stomach, teasing the edge of the water. His touch is firm, practiced. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Wanna explain it to me, sweetheart?”

“Fuck no, you know what I mean. Don’t even bother,” you say back, full of attitude.

“Better get rid of that attitude before I fuck it out of you,” he mutters under his breath.

The words process in your ears, and your cheeks blush a bright red. “What the hell is wrong with you…”

“You’re the one enjoying it,” he reminds you. This guy really has his way around you.

Then, silence follows. None of you say anything, you two just bask in the awkward silence. He doesn’t stop either, he just continues scrubbing you as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. Oh, how badly you wanted to smack that calm look off his face; you might as well have smacked him into tomorrow.

“Hmm, I’m done,” he hums before opening the drain to let the water out. 

As the water drained, the warmth slowly slipped away, leaving a thin layer clinging to your skin. Droplets traced lazy paths down your body, revealing more of yourself inch by inch. The suds that once covered you faded, slipping away to expose flushed skin, marked with the faintest hints of his touch. The cool air kissed each newly uncovered inch, sending a shiver down your spine as the last remnants of the bath vanished down the drain.

“You’re wet, did that really turn you on? You freak,” his smooth voice shatters the silence.

“Shut the fuck uppp… I hate you so much,” your voice comes out more hostile than it was supposed to be. Oops.

“Doesn’t really seem like it,” he replies. 

And once again, silence. You have nothing to say to him.

“...”

“C’mere, I’ll help you,” he says.

“Huh?” you ask instinctively. “Help me?”

“Yeah,” he responds, a slight smirk growing on his face.

He sits on the edge of the bathtub, patting his lap a few times to gesture to you to get on. “Hurry it up before I change my mind,”

“I don’t even know what you’re doing,” you answer. Reluctantly, you follow his orders and sit on his lap. 

Without warning, one of his arms pry open your legs, revealing your puffy clit to him. 

His eyes look down at your glistening, red folds. “Shit, that looks painful,”

His hands trail to your clit, and you can’t help but start grinding on it. You were so desperate for the friction that he never gave you the other day. 

“Mmh… m-more…” you moan, eagerly grinding against his fingers hoping to reach your climax sooner.

“Just keep going,” he gives you permission. 

“F-fuck! I’m so close… nghh—!” you pant. “Ha-ahh! M-more, K-kita!”

And, almost in a blink of an eye, he decides to push his digits inside you. Your gummy walls wrapped around his index and middle finger so tightly. The warmth immediately transferred to his fingers, sending streams of heat to his face, causing him to blush faintly.

“Y-you’re so warm…” he moans, a squelching sound came with every thrust of his finger. 

The sound was so tantalizing, a growing bump appearing in his pants. His fingers were getting coated with your slick, only further lubricating it. 

“F-fuck! K-kita…! I’m so close—!” you moan out.

“Yes, that’s it baby, just let it out,” his voice shoots through.

“Mmh!!” you scream as you reach your climax.

"Alright, get up. We have to get going," Kita murmurs, his voice steady, but there's a weight behind it. He had something unreadable lingering in his tone. He’s still sitting on the edge of the tub, the water sloshing gently as you shift on his lap, your bare skin pressed against his. 

The warmth of the bath is fading fast, the steam in the room beginning to thin, and with the drain now open, the water slowly slips away, leaving you more exposed with each passing second. Droplets cling to your skin, trailing down the curves of your body, following the dips and hollows like they don’t want to leave. Kita’s hands are firm at your waist, thumbs brushing absentmindedly against your damp skin, as if committing the sensation to memory.

His gaze flickers downward even just for a second, just long enough for you to notice but then he exhales, his grip tightening like he’s reminding himself of something. He’s always so composed, so put-together, but there’s something about the way he holds you now that feels different. Intimate. Intentional. His fingers press into your hips, grounding you before he leans in, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"Or do you want me to dry you off too, sweetheart?"

“Get outt, I can do it myself,” you whine at him.

“Alright, see ya out there,” he bids you a short farewell.

—

Now you’re at the wedding, emptily staring as your mom walks down the aisle to bind her together with her so-called “love of her life”. The guests sigh in admiration, the soft hum of violins filling the air as she steps gracefully forward, her veil trailing behind her like a ghostly promise of forever. You should feel something. Maybe happiness, pride, maybe even just the tiniest flicker of excitement but all you can manage is numb detachment.

Your fingers toy with the fabric of your dress, nails digging into the delicate material as you shift in your seat. Beside you, Kita sits perfectly still, posture straight, expression unreadable. He hasn’t spoken much since this morning, only offering you the occasional glance, as if checking to see if you’d run off the moment you got the chance.

Not that you would.

As the vows begin, you feel his fingers graze yours beneath the table. It’s brief, almost unnoticeable, but it sets off a wildfire in your stomach. You don’t move away.

"Pretty, isn’t it?" he murmurs, voice just loud enough for you to hear.

You don’t respond. Instead, you keep your eyes trained ahead, pretending the warmth of his skin against yours isn’t making it impossibly hard to focus on the ceremony.

But Kita knows you too well.

His fingers slide between yours, lacing them together, and this time, he doesn’t let go.

The vows are being exchanged, the guests are sighing dreamily, and you? You’re sitting there, pretending to care while your step brother leans in way too close.

"You look real cute when you're trying to act all innocent," Kita murmurs, voice low enough that only you can hear.

Your fingers clench against the fabric of your dress. "Shut up."

But of course, he doesn’t. Instead, he lets his hand rest against your thigh, feather-light, like he’s testing just how much he can get away with.

"Relax," he hums, the warmth of his breath against your ear sending shivers down your spine. "You look so tense. Weddings aren’t that bad."

He’s enjoying this. The way you shift slightly in your seat, the way your body reacts despite your best efforts to ignore him. The bastard knows exactly what he’s doing.

And just when you think you might lose it, someone clears their throat nearby. You both snap your heads up… only to see an old lady from the groom’s side giving you the most judgmental stare.

You jerk away from Kita like he just burned you, cheeks flaming. He, on the other hand, just smirks, completely unbothered.

"Well, if you’re that flustered, maybe we should step out for some air," he suggests, oh-so-casually.

You should say no. You should sit still and suffer through the rest of the ceremony.

But the way he’s looking at you? The way he’s practically daring you?

Yeah. You’re definitely gonna regret this.

As the ceremony drags on, you finally manage to shake off the heat lingering from Kita’s teasing. The wedding wraps up, the reception kicks in, and for a while, you focus on your plate instead of the way Kita’s eyes seem to follow your every move.

It’s only when the night is nearly over, when you think you’ve finally escaped, that he corners you outside, leaning casually against the car like he has all the time in the world.

"Are you ready for school tomorrow?" he asks, the question coming out way too casual for your liking.

You blink. "What?"

Kita tilts his head, studying your face like he’s amused by your confusion. "School. The place you’re supposed to be going to instead of spending all your time trying to avoid me," he muses.

"I know what school is, dumbass." You roll your eyes. "What’s your point?"

His smirk deepens. "Just thought I’d wish you good luck, is all. I know some of your teachers."

Your stomach sinks. "Excuse me?"

He hums, completely unbothered by your growing horror. "Mhm. Had a few of them myself back in the day. I wonder how they’ll feel about you. You were always a bit of a troublemaker, weren’t you?"

Oh. Oh, you hate him.

"You better not have told them shit about me," you warn, stepping closer, but Kita just chuckles.

"Relax. I didn’t say anything." His fingers reach up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before leaning in, voice dropping to a whisper. "But I guess you’ll find out soon enough, won’t you?"

And just like that, he pulls away, stepping into the car like he hasn’t just sent your entire world spiraling.

You stand there, gripping the edge of your dress, heart hammering in your chest.

School was supposed to be your break from him.

Now? It looks like you’re completely screwed.

The ride home is filled with a suffocating silence, save for the occasional hum from the radio. Kita looks completely at ease, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping a slow rhythm against his thigh. Meanwhile, you’re sitting rigid in your seat, replaying his words over and over in your head.

‘I know some of your teachers.’

What the hell does that mean? Did he warn them about you? Did he paint you as some reckless little kid who needed extra supervision? Or worse… did he set something up, a way to keep you in check even at school?

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, searching for any sign of mischief. But he just looks… calm. Relaxed. Like he hasn’t just ruined your entire sense of peace.

It’s infuriating.

"You’re messing with me," you finally say, arms crossed over your chest.

Kita doesn’t even glance at you. "Am I?"

"Yes," you insist, even though you’re not so sure anymore. "Which teachers?"

"You’ll see," he replies smoothly.

You swear he’s enjoying this.

The rest of the ride is spent in silence, tension thick between you. When you finally pull up to the house, you’re already reaching for the door handle, desperate to escape.

But just as you step out, Kita calls after you.

"Hey."

You pause, glancing over your shoulder.

His gaze is steady, unreadable. "Try to behave yourself, yeah?"

Your stomach twists.

You don’t respond. You just shut the door and storm inside, desperately trying to ignore the warmth spreading down your spine.

“I’ll behave… don’t worry,” you say, giving him a cheeky stare before running into the house.

Y’all are both equally as fucked.

[staarboyyy]

Team building exercise

billy butcher x frenchie x supe!reader | they/them pronouns used

explicit - minors dni

tags / warnings ; reader has vagina, weed use / intoxication, supe reaper, enemies to lovers if you squint, hell yeah for long buildup, threesome, lap sitting, oral [receiving / giving], spitroast, lots of petnames

summary ; As a Supe on the run, joining The Boys can be nerve wracking - Easing up tension is no easy feat.

word count ; 10.1k

a / n ; guess whose back! back again! hiatus break extravaganza, enjoy!

"I don't trust them."

"Of course you don't." Frenchie gave a scoff towards his taller friend, eyeing him dubiously as he perched a lit joint between his lips, arms spread over the top of the couch, thrumming his fingers to the quiet tunes on the shitty television. It was a dreary place to stay, the air always humid and buzzing lights above head a dim shade between green and flickering grays. Butcher's eyes shut, head tilting back as he gave a sharp sigh - Christ, it never gets easier does it? Dealing with the endless amounts of supes cycling into his life. He sucked his teeth, wordlessly gesturing his large hand towards Frenchie, index and middle finger slightly spreading in a silent request. The man complied as he exhaled the soiling smoke, lacing his mouth with a tacky dryness, his throat burning in a familiar way. He couldn't help but let a small smile gently tug up at his lips as Butcher took the joint from the other, lips pursing over the filter and taking a deep inhale. Billows of thick smoke clouded in his chest, the taste earthy and bitter. As it seeped from between his lips he sat up, passing the lit joint back towards Frenchie, who was still gently tapping his fingers on the couch.

"Give me a good reason, why you don't trust them - Hm?"

"Voughts after them already, paints a big red fuckin' target on everyone's ass. Not like we need anymore." Butcher muttered back, followed by a groan as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He wished that weed had worked how it did in the movies, taking a single tiny puff and instantly beginning to giggle, locating the nearest bowl of chips. It took a few minutes, slowly rolling down a hill into the mind numbing sweeping feeling of losing yourself, and being okay with it. Shit. Maybe he was high. He threw a glance to Frenchie, whom had taken to sliding off the couch and kneeling beside the rickety wooden table.

"Sure sure," Frenchie waved his hand dismissivley towards Butcher, not looking to him as he busied himself with packing weed into the small glass bowl from his bong; God only knows how long he's had it, and hadn't managed to break it. As the floorboards creaked from the entrance, both men's heads whipped around quickly to catch the sight of you.

"Speak of the devil," Butcher gave a forced chuckle, eyes darting away almost as quickly as they laid upon you. Frenchie gave a smile towards the you, throwing a slight wave to gesture towards him, that you was allowed to join, if you so wished.

With a stagnating hesitancy, you stepped forward, eyes cast over the rather dreary scene with an internal grimace; It didn't seem like the best hide-away to plan a takedown on Homelander, but in anycase you gave a slight chuckle before speaking. "Hey sorry - Couldn't really find where I was going." It was a fair comment to make, your eyes falling on the two men at fault for their rather lacking instructions on how to find the place.

"Sit sit," Frenchie gestured to the long rickety couch, Butcher taking up most of the space in the left and middle seat, knees wide apart from one another, arms casually wrapped over the couch. His eyelids were heavy, in part of the weed, yet the hanging bruised bags of exhaustion weighing down underneath his eyes was clear as day to anyone. Butcher was tired; Everyone was, including yourself. Frenchie finished packing the bowl, grabbing the neck of the bong as he stood, gently nudging Butcher's foot. He got the memo, leg moving to cross over the other as Frenchie fell back into the worn cushions, patting the space next to him. You sat slowly, leaning back into the well used couch with a slight creak of the springs.

"Don't worry - That's actually a good thing," Frenchie gave a wry wink toward you before leaning forward to set the bong down, while slapping his pockets for a spare lighter. Butcher's eyes seemed to stay shut longer as he blinked, taking small intervals of the rare peace among the hideout. The smell of weed filled the air, T.V. flipped to one of Frenchie's soap operas, half filled water bottles strewning over the floor.

"You smoke?" Butcher breathed out the words in a quiet deep rasp, eyes staying shut as he moved his arms to cross over his torso. Assuming the question was directed to you, you pursed your lips tightly. Butcher was never fond of you - He was as hesitant with you as any other Supe, snide comments and straight up avoidance seemed to be common in the man. You hoped weed would ease him up to the idea of you joining the strange posse he's created - You want the same things, in the end. "Yeah," You admit, eyes reaching towards Butcher's for just a moment. "Sometimes every day," You add, hoping to lighten to mood with a look towards Frenchie.

Frenchie had been decently quick to slap around his pockets for a lighter with a quiet hum, eyes swimming over the ash trays in the room, to see if any had been left. Of course, no lighter in this place would be left unattended, everyone including those who didn't smoke, had sticky fingers to say the least. Butcher cocked his head off to the side, watching how your nervous demeanor was palpable in the air. With no response to you, he inhaled through his nostrils sharply, grunting as he leaned forward to grab at a plainly obvious green lighter near Frenchie's shoes.

"You fucker," Frenchie muttered, swiping the lighter from Butcher, flicking it a few times. The jagged wheel gave a stuttering scrape, producing a sparking flame, catching Frenchie's attention. "Smoking bud is simply just self medication. Some need it every day, some take it only right before bed,"

He trailed off, leaning back into the squeaking couch with the bong and lighter grasped in one hand. He always made the effort to make you atleast half way comfortable here, especially when Butcher's looming presence seemed to take over the air of the room - And you appreciated it, more than he could ever know. With an exhale, Butcher shed his heavy coat from his wide shoulders, letting it drop to the floor with a thick thud of leather on matted carpet. He tended to dawn button downs, not caring for the style or colors, as long as they were comfortable and easy to get on and off; Yet uncharacteristically, he wore a black sweater. It had been colder outside than normal, the icey rain sticking to the ground and making it easy to just prefer to stay inside. He rubbed his long fingers through his tousled hair, knee bumping Frenchie's as a gesture to start to bowl. So quietly, he did. The lighter came over the glass bowl, the grinded weed sizzling as it made contact, a ribbon of grey smoke and heavy aromas sedimented themselves in the air around them. He pulled, for quite a long time, letting the bowl crackle and illuminate itself before pulling it up, inhaling with ease. He held it for a few quiet moments, hand clutching the bong leaning over towards you bowl still singed and smoking.

"Jesus. Don't to pukin' on the carpet, we don't need any more bodily fluids in this place," Butcher spoke, not making it known whether or not he was speaking to Frenchie or You. Maybe both? Frenchie hadn't quite cared too much for the mans remark, exhaling the smoke in a thick billow, humming at the sight of it. The process of smoking had been so cathartic.

You took the bong graciously, nodding at the other in a silent thanks before pressing your lips to the mouth of the bong. You rested there for a moment, the smoke tinging your nostrils as it slithered up in snaking tendrils from the bowl, before inhaling graciously. The burn hit your throat tenderly, sliding down you in a wash of warmth, pooling with a familar soreness in your chest. As you exhaled the smoke, you could feel both mens eyes on you, and how your attention followed the plume of grey. After a tight draw of fresh air, a slight cough creeped over you, tickling your throat before parting your lips.

Butcher's gaze was still fixated on you, watching you cough lightly with a quizzical eye, leaning back into the couch with another creaky audible squeak. The silence was tense, yet the wringing feeling of the weed slowly veiling over the surrounding air, the ribbons toiling in the light of the buzzing lights, had begun to melt it away. Butcher relaxed his shoulders, head cocking off to the side as he swallowed thickly. If there was any way to get through to see the end of whatever this team needed to do, it’d be to bite his tongue and start acting like - What did M.M. say? A team player. Butcher scoffed.

“So - ,” Butcher trailed off in a nearly dubious tone, as if not convinced he even knew your real name. “You break easy?” He asked, causing Frenchie’s head to turn, eyebrows furrowing slightly before giving a wry grin - Butcher waved his hand. That came out wrong. The weed had pulled a sheen of dizziness on the demeanor he so effortlessly wanted to use to his advantage. Scare you off, make you see the light and how awful the world is, yata yata. God, his mouth was dry. Butcher clenched his jaw, eyes casting off towards the table with a suck of his teeth. “Tough skin? You’ve been in battle before?” He went on after a few moments of practicing the words in his mind, weaving them together despite the foggy feeling. Frenchie shook his head, chuckling quietly as he looked towards you, expression reading halfway sympathetic but unable to keep the bubbling laughs from rising past his lips.

“He’s an idiot. Ignore him,” As much as Butcher wanted to retort against Frenchie’s words, he simply rolled his eyes, leaning over the couch to grab at the neck of a whiskey bottle he had opened a few minutes ago. He put his lips to the mouth of the bottle, drinking the bitter liquor with a burning exhale pushing from his nostrils. It trailed a thick searing sting down his throat, to his stomach, almost grounding him from the effects of the weed - He hadn’t noticed he’d begun staring at you until he had to force his eyes to part ways with your flushed cheeks as you spoke.

"Oh - Yeah, my fair share. Nothing serious." You didn't want to go on at first, though the pressing tension in the air pushed an answer from your drying throat. "If you count run-ins with the FBI "Nothing serious", I mean." Slowly, you extended your arm across Frenchie, handing the bong off towards Butcher.

At this, he simply cocked his head. Of course, he didn't want to outright call bullshit yet his expression twisted into one that needed no words. As you handed the bong off towards him though, he took in a breath to speak, his rough skin pressing over your fingers. The transaction was simple, yet the lingering feeling of the you on his larger hand left him to shift in his seat slightly. It was hard to be his typical dark demeanor with the clashing mix of weed and exhaustion from the day prior; He sucked his teeth, pulling the bong close as he leaned forward to grab the lighter from the table.

"Alright, and lets say you've had these little "run-ins" - We don't even know your power for gods sake, so..." The man trailed off, eyes falling to the bong as he pressed his lips to the mouth piece, flicking the lighter over the bowl and taking a sharp inhale. Butcher didn't smoke weed as much as Frenchie did, preferring the casual ciggarette or even cigar, yet he handled the hits well. As he exhaled a thick billow of smoke, he offered it towards Frenchie, whose eyes were wide and glued to you, lips tilted up into a small smile.

"FBI? Ohhoh," He elbowed Butcher slightly, who in turn grunted, shoving the bong once more towards the other. Frenchie grabbed the neck of it, still grinning as he spoke, eyebrows furrowing slightly. "You mean it? Vraiment incroyable," He whispered, the veins of his eyes contrasting sharply to his dark irises and heavy lids, lashes laid thick. Frenchie shifted his weight slightly, facing towards the you with a throaty chuckle.

"And to think Butcher could ever doubt you, hey?" Frenchie brought his hand to your cheek, pinching at the apple of it slightly, humming as his eyes flickered over the your expression. His pupils were large, blown out from the dim light above and perhaps a mixture of some other drug he was able to scrape together. He wet his lips after a moment, swallowing harshly as Butcher cleared his throat.

"If they've been up against the FBI - I'm the fucking queen of England, how 'bout that?" The man spoke like a frustrated child, setting the bong onto the table with a low thud. It only egged Frenchie on, grinning a bit - He knew what that tone meant, yet knowing you would be oblivious to Butcher's unpredictable and strange jealousy made him chuckle wryly. How far could he push such a thing? He wondered.

"You ever shotgunned?"

Frenchie spoke casually, arm thrown over the edges of the couch as he tilted his chin down towards you. His eyes were wild, yet warm as he tilted his head, chewing his bottom lip for a moment. A tinge of embarrassment caught you as Butcher's words mingled in the smokey air, though Frenchie's quickly threw you for a loop, your gaze swimming through the room to find his.

"Shit probably... Not in a long time, but uh," You could feel your cheeks lighting up, the mirroring satisfaction of Frenchie's expression growing slowly.

"Christ you're high as a fucking kite, aren'you?" Butcher scoffed out a quiet chuckle, sharp through his nostrils, eyes wandering towards the space beside him on the worn in sofa. Frenchie's heavy eyes didn't move from yours, clicking his tounge and squinting slightly as he spoke.

"When am I not," He breathed the words out quietly, voice rasping through a playful purr. Butcher pursed his lips, head cocking off to the side slightly as he watched the you two - Frenchie moved like a snake, slowly and skillfully etching his arm over the edge of the couch and leaning his face close towards yours, his eyes doey and glittering with a familiar spark of thrilling measures. It was always the chase for the French man, wasn't it. Butcher wiped his thumb under his nose, fingernails rolling through the scruff on his chin, before moving to roll up the sleeves of his sweater. His forearms were built, bulking through the sweater sleeves and veins seemed to cross the bronze skin like streams and rivers on a map. Scars etched themselves onto him, weaving between his beauty marks and various bruises - His arms were a story within themselves, faded stick and pokes from years ago still demanded to be seen, despite his many attempts to do the opposite. Butcher leaned forward once more, wordlessly grabbing the bong.

"You're on the run from the FBI, and Vought - Ain't that just fuckin' peachy." His voice was cold, yet he let his shoulders relax slightly, his body shifting towards Frenchie with an audible creak of the sofa. Both men now sat closer to you than before, Frenchie's long fingers now stringing gently through your hair; While this wasn't out of character for the affectionate man, usually nobody would allow him to do so - He seemed quite pleased that you didn't protest against his warm touch.

"When was the last, hm?" Frenchie spoke, as if Butcher's words had hardly reached him. He used his free hand to gently scratch over the growing stubble on his hardened jaw line, eyes unwavering as a teasing grin snaked onto his calm expression. As he spoke, Butcher stayed silent, elbows leaned forward onto his knees - He looked at you like he was studying something, as if the weed made you all the more interesting. Yet it wasn't in the sense that Frenchie had, the glittering sense of warmth fleeting his sharp pointed gaze entirely; It was darker, nearly predatory, pinning you down to the couch with a simple lull of his eyes falling down your body - Agonizingly slowly.

"A couple of years - I uh," Usually you would have something to follow up the answer, a witty comment to lighten the now thickening air, but the weed now dripped over your shoulders. It was warm, the pillowing strength of the high tensing your muscles, and wavering your heavy eyelids.

"That so?"

Butcher spoke up before Frenchie could even catch his breath to answer. His fingers paused for a moment, still continuing to slowly string through your hair, but instead resting his nails on your scalp, scratching gently. Frenchie finally cast his gaze towards Butcher, whose expression was that of - Well nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary; Besides how he now assumed the position of letting his back relax against the couch, legs opening further as he cocked his head towards you, who had now grown awfully close to Frenchie. Nothing was said for a few moments, perhaps nothing needed to be spoken between both Frenchie and Butcher, yet the taste of the air seemed to shift for the men. Frenchie's eyesbrows settled as he watched Butcher return to his natural position, head tilting back slightly to coerce you two to come closer.

"C'mon then."

Butcher's voice on the other hand, had shifted to something different. The underlying rumble of how he clearly was not just suggesting you both follow his simple order, his thick accent weaving between his words, rolling off the tongue with a following billow of smoke; It was a demand. A devilish one at that, how he spread his large arms over the couches edge and squared his heavy shoulders.

Frenchie's gaze on the other rolled in waves, moving towards you once more; Although gentler than Butcher's had been, it was no less devious than the brit who now so casually began to pack a fresh bowl. It still stung with a sultry glaze of darkness, peering at you through thick lashes as his hand moved from your hair, down to your warm cheek. His thumb pressed gently into the soft skin, letting the pad of his finger trace ever so slowly down towards your jaw, eyes settling on your lips, for just a few brief moments. Your body had stiffened, a pooling warmth in your abdomen now fighting with the foggy feeling pulsating in your head.

Frenchie seemed to smile at this, almost entertained in the way you seemed to stiffen, watching the apples of your cheeks bloom a sheer pink. The man wet his lips, the feeling of Butcher's eyes burning into his back as he dropped his hand to grab at yours gently. It was soft, the calloused pads of his fingers gently cascading over your palm, pulling the smaller fingers to clasp with his own. He looked at how you fit together, the thrumming of his heart gently pushing against his ribs - The familiarness of it all made his lips twist into a small smile, eyebrows knitting together as his gaze flickered to yours once more. He lifted your tangled fingers, pressing his lips to the back of the your palm. His facial hair rubbed against your skin, his firm yet gentle grasp unwavering as he kept his eyes on you, as if his universe would collapse if he looked away. Carefully, he spoke.

"Would you mind if," Frenchie's voice was soft, coming in waves between soft kisses against your hand, still held by his own. "We remind you of such pleasures?" The question was vague, yet the knowing tilt of Frenchie's head gave way for the wry smirk. "Of smoking. Of course,"

Butcher looked onto this with pure interest, oddly enough enraptured by the way Frenchie seemed to snake himself around you. He moved his attention back to your expression after a few moments, catching your line of sight and giving a twitch of his eyebrow. His mind was racing, surely you were both in on it Of course. It, being something only occurring with the messily done up mix of weed and - Stress? Something like that. Butcher didn't care at this point, already shifting the weight of his thighs onto the couch, the friction of his thick jeans nearly rattling a sense of shame down his spine. Though, it was not nearly enough to overtake the sudden dryness of his mouth, how his heart now pounded in his ears, lips hanging open slightly as he wordlessly looked over at you and Frenchie. Your whisper was fragile, fixated on the man as your voice escaped your hold on rationalizing yourself.

"Yes..."

At the single word, Frenchie slowly lowered your hand, humming to himself quietly before brushing his thumb once more over your cheek. It was gentle, eyes glinting with a sense of warmth - Yet it seemed to slip away, slowly at first, then as he cast his eyes back towards your lips, it had fleet his expression entirely. With a slow movement, he guided your jaw with his hand, bringing you closer towards Butcher - You were now sitting between the two. The air was still, clouded with passing smoke and dust, yet the sound of all of you sucking in short gasps of air from clenched teeth had seemed to swim from ear to ear. The shift in Butcher's position was heard with a creak of the couch; He turned himself more towards you, his left arm resting on the edge of the couch and the other clutching the neck of the bong. His large thighs spread, the thick black denim not leaving too much for the imagination. Butchers eyes moved from you, to his lap, then back again. It was a wordless offer, one he had seemed to give many people, just from how casual it was. Yet on the inside, he could feel how painfully tight he clenched his jaw, practically white knuckling the bong as he tried for a casual shift of his weight.

Frenchie, had seemed enamored by the way Butcher moved. As much as Frenchie was a snake, Butcher was a lion. Predator by nature, moving silently and demanding with a simple flick of his eyes - He darkened the rooms he walked into, making peoples shoulders tense at the mention of his name. Butcher let a slow exhale reach him, jaw relaxing as he went to speak, eyes unmoving.

"Let me show you the proper way, hm?"

Though the man roused a question with this, it was clear it had been practiced on his tongue, having thought about this for quite some time. His voice was gravely, the prior smoking only adding to the rumbling purr of his ribboning words. He lifted his chin slightly - Smug bastard. Butcher clearly knew he had a strange advantage over quite a few people. The primal one, the one that seemed to click into place as soon as he began barking orders.

How you were breathing was a mystery. You moved with such ease under Frenchie's hand, under the thickening daze of his touch and the way Butcher was looking at you. That alone sent your heart pounding and face lit up with a scarlet flush. It had been a while since you felt so small, and allowed yourself to be told what to do and when. The thought terrified you, sending pins through your nerves, telling you to run. The weed, that was it, not the way you found yourself feeling so relaxed between the two men. No, it was definitely the weed.

You found yourself on Butchers lap, legs straddled across the man's bulk. Your eyes latched to Butcher's with ease, studying every small color detail you could find in him much like you had the French man's.

Butcher's eyes were hardened, locked onto yours with a piercing gaze - It was nothing short of devious, the delicious veil of smoke and pupil blown out lust becoming clearer on the mans expression as you lowered yourself onto his lap. His large free hand swept over the air as soon as you sat, rough palm meeting your waist. His thumb drew slow arc over your skin, eyes lowering over your body - He couldnt express the feeling that seemed to sear itself into his stomach, forcing his back to arch ever so slightly. A low exhale rumbled from between his parted lips, nearly in approval of how you now nervously shifted your weight, ever so deliciously. He watched your movements with a silent cold gaze, eyes tracking every one of your sharp breaths.

Frenchie watched with heavy lidded eyes, head leaning against the couch as he looked at you both - It was something out of a painting. Celestial in how the two seemed to fit together perfectly; Not to mention he couldn't get enough of your sheepish expression. Frenchie wet his lips, fingers moving to quietly fumble with the button and belt of his loose cargo pants. It was feeble and rushed, jaw clenching as a wash of heat rolled down his body, centering itself between his thighs. He shifted his weight, eyes not leaving Butcher as the man brought the now lit bong to his lips.

The brit's eyes stayed in place, locked onto your twitching frame as he pulled a deep inhale from the glass. With a slow movement, his eyes moved in time with his free hand, shifting from your body towards his your. His rough fingerpads rubbed against you, holding your face firmly - His thumb moved though, as he drew the bong from his parted lips, the rough thumb pulled your bottom lip down slowly. The action was small, caressing your soft lip to expose the slight opening of your mouth. Butcher set the bong off to the side, eyes flicking between your eyes, and your lips. After a moment, smoke drifted from his nostrils, the sting reminding him he couldn't simply sit and admire you. Despite his aching urge to do just that. He'd sit and watch you for hours, atop his lap and nervously shifting your weight. Butcher pulled your jaw foward, parted lips meeting yours - The smoke flowed between his teeth, pushing from his mouth into the yours, as a low throaty groan pressed from his throat. It was primal, instinctual in the way he dropped his hand from your face, returning to your hip. His grasp was much less gentle than it had been, now tugging your down. A silent demand - He wanted your full weight. For you to surrender entirely to him.

Butcher was a strange man. That was the only thought circulating through your speeding mind. You couldn't figure out why he stared so much, you couldn't place the reason Butcher had such an expression when looking at you or why his actions made you feel the way you did. Such a thing excited you. It sent a heat spreading through you that got more intense when Butcher touched you, each glide of his rough hands sending shivers up your spine.

When Butcher leaned in, you had as well, just barely. You wanted Butcher to lead this dance, to show you how this was to be done. And so far it was unrevealing you from the core. The closer they got the more your eyes closed, barely letting past a gasp pass as you sucked in the smoke. When you exhaled, you pulled away just slightly, eyes opening as you blew out the smoke, staring into Butcher's with a fire, a hunger.

"That's more like it, darlin'."

Butcher's voice was hardly audible, a slow purr, tasting the honorific as it slipped off his tongue. The last of the smoke pushed between his teeth as he pulled your weight into his own, lips clashing with yours. He gave a quiet grunt, drawn out and pleased; His facial hair pressed into your skin, the hand on your face slipping agonizingly slow over your body. He savored every twitch and gasp he was able to, his thick cock pressing into your warmth - It was driven in pure ecstacy.

Frenchie had managed to pry off his jeans, hand settling over his clothed length with a contended sigh; His eyes stayed on you and Butcher as you kissed, his fingers moving and caressing himself as you moved in sync. He wanted nothing more than to drink down the scene before him, a soft moan pulled from his throat as his breath hitched. He twitched in his hand, mouth practically watering as he watched Butcher grope you with such fierceness.

It wasn't careless or rushed, how Butcher's large calloused hands seem to linger on your lower back, snaking towards your torso - His fingers tucked underneath your shirt as his tongue swept over your lip, panting slightly into the kiss. Your skin was heavenly, smooth and soft - The touch of it alone made him groan quietly, bucking his hips up slightly as his hand continued exploring your body.

Frenchie let a moan roll from him, a slow drawn out whimper as he watched them; He brought his hand to his mouth, saliva gathering from the mere image of you leaning into Butcher entirely. Frenchie dragged his tongue over his palm, hips subconsciously bucking simply at the anticipation of it all. He brought his hand back down, shifting closer to the you two as he stroked himself - The sounds he made was obscene. Low pleasured purrs interlacing with sharp gasps, hand gripped tightly around his twitching cock. His eyes drifted along your body, undressing you with his heavy gaze.

Frenchie had thought about you before - In a situation like this. It came to him as he touched himself the same way he did now; His mind wandering and landing onto you with a sinister intent. Frenchie came just from the idea of using his mouth on you. The memory made him twitch in his hand, a shuddered groan breaking with a desperate whimper.

Butcher's hands seemed to chase up the skin of your body, his rough fingers meeting your chest with a sharp inhale. The noise that came from him was nothing short of animalistic, his palms laying over your body, groping needily - He rocked into your body, hips moving in slow circles as he throbbed for the you, the perfect weight on top of him. Butcher leaned his forehead on yours, breathing hard before speaking.

"You want to have a smart mouth with me - Hm?"

Butcher's voice thundered in a low primal tone, dark eyes casting into yours. He took a slow inhale, head slowly tilting back with a devilish chuckle. The sound of it reverberated, shattering the lustful haze that seemed to settle in the space between you all. It was a filthy sound, one of his hands moving up your back, his large fingers entangling into the locks of your hair. He didn't pull, yet held onto you firmly, with a slight smirk.

Frenchie's parted lips formed into a hazed lopsided smile as he beckoned you towards him - It was how must Eve had to feel in the garden. The stomach stirring temptation that came simply from the idea of taking the hand of the serpent; His canines glinted as his head tilted slightly, tongue moving to wet his lips before speaking. Frenchie's voice was nothing short of sinful, how his eyes moved over your body, a hand still loosely hung around his twitching cock; In truth the forbidden fruit didn't taste like an apple, nor did it even taste sweet. It tasted like sweat, like the breath being pulled from your lungs, a forceful hand around your throat. Suffocatingly pleasurable, the truthful definition of what it means to not just give into temptation, but to drink it down in hitched breaths - To lick it from knives, from fingers of men that seemed intent on breaking you beyond repair.

"How do you feel, darling?" Frenchie whispered.

"S..So good," You admitted, cheeks flushed at feeling so exposed to the men before you. The sound of your voice was heavenly, a low whisper of approval - It feels good. Butcher gave another quiet groan at the slight praise, shifting underneath you, arching his back into your heat.

Frenchie hummed quietly, mewling as he also heard your voice - Slowly the man stood, pacing over to stand behind you two, hands moving to snake around your torso. His fingers were rougher than Butchers, callouses and scars blooming over his hands; Each one told a story of course, all the cuts and bruises left with the aftertaste of copper, licking his own wounds. Frenchie let his lips dip down towards your neck, hands gently squeezing your hips with a soft hitch of his breath. His tongue slid over your skin with a pleased groan, deep and slow, a predator giving the prey a taste of what was truly to come. His teeth bit down, his fingers tightening slight on your skin; A snake constricting around a mouse while the lion below you sat and watched - You felt helpless, breathless, though Frenchie couldn't help but chuckle sardonically into your flesh, beside your ear as he whispered quietly.

"Petite souris," His breath was hot, teeth grazing over the shell of your ear, his hands moving to grip the hem of your shirt, pulling up slightly with a wry chuckle. "Don't hide from us."

As Frenchie pulled the shirt away, the men both took in a slow gasp. Both of their sets of hands paused on your body simultaneously - You was a sight to behold. Butcher's eyes softened, hand sliding up from your stomach to your chest. He slid his palm over the soft skin that now pulsed with your erratic heart, eyes not leaving you as his lips parted to speak.

"You're fucking perfect." Butcher didn't just utter the words in a sultry whisper for you to hear; It was akin to a prayer, something pulled from his mind and forced to speak - Is this what religion felt like? To gaze upon someone and feel the heart pounding, head spinning way he did now? You squirmed above Butcher, biting your lower lip slightly upon hearing the praise, the air of the room peaking your nipples slightly.

Frenchie's hands explored lower, lips pressing soft kisses to your shoulder as his fingers caught the belt loops of your jeans, tugging a bit. Greedy, he was; Yet every fiber of his being cried out to have his skin pressed against not just yours, but Butcher's as well. It truly was heavenly, how you three seemed to melt into one another with no refute or hesitation - One of Frenchie's hands slid up your chest as well, moving over your throat and to your jaw, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. His expression was gentler than before, the underlying darkness fizzling away like a fire in a storm. Frenchie leaned in slowly, lips pressing to yours with a pleased hum, bordering on a whimper.

You leaned into the others warm touches, gasping slightly as you lifted your hands to cup Frenchie's face with a corresponding fervor. He purred into the gentle kiss, free hand still on your jeans as he let himself melt into the feeling of your back pressed against him. He tilted his face, hot breath and tongue working in waves over your lower lip before letting his teeth gently tug on it - It was soft, yet a silent reminder. He didn't have to speak for you to feel how he admired you, how he did not just see you as sexy, but perfect. Ethereal how your body felt underneath his hands, how your soft groans gently reverberated against his lips, only making him hunger for more.

Butcher watched you two, leaning back from you to take in the sight with a low hum - His hands though, were not as kind as he seemed to be, looking at you and Frenchie with nothing but sheer adoration. Yet how his large palms now kneaded your skin, his fingers reaching lower - Lower; You could swear you could feel your heart slamming against your ribs as his index finger pushed past your waist band. A primal rumbling moan etched through his throat, his expression creasing upon feeling the shift of heat from the simple motion alone. As the groan pushed into the obscene hazy air, he leaned back more, now pressing his stiff clothed cock against you - It wasn't intentional, how he rocked against your body with fleeting desperation and filthy carnal desire; Yet his head tilted back, cursing in a deep whisper to himself - The exact opposite of a prayer, he thought. How his mind seemed to race with images of you presenting yourself to him, breathing hard and eyebrows furrowed, sweat glazing his face.

"Fucck - That's it love, just like that," Butcher kept you pulled down to his lap with fingers hooked tight on your waistband, still rocking with low contented sighs, his eyebrows knitting together slightly.

”That's it, doll.”

Frenchie’s voice was hot against your lips, eyebrows furrowing as his tongue pressed to yours - It was euphoric, the heavy breathing causing the French man’s head to spin. His hands moved down from your jaw, his large hand clasping over your throat, squeezing in the sides with a slow progression. He could feel your rushing blood underneath his rough fingers, and he bared a smile into the kiss, pulling away slowly with the tilt of his sharp jaw. He chuckled darkly, the sound contrasting his quiet whimpers and praise.

”Diable doux; You’re not as innocent as you look, hm?" A brief, tight squeeze came to your throat. Frenchie grinned wickedly at this, the feeling of power, how you gave a sharp gasp before he released it. He kept his large hand loosely around your neck as he gave a wry wink towards Butcher. Another strange silent agreement, one that didn’t need words - Perhaps it never did. Butcher moved quickly, strong arms tucking themselves underneath your shoulders, standing to his feet with a low grunt, exhaling sharply. He turned you in his grasp like a ragdoll, snickering quietly at the notion of how suprised you were; One of his arms now supported underneath your knees, the other holding your back - Bridal style.

“You wanna see what happens to a tease like you?”

Butcher didn’t even give you a second glance after asking, sucking a sharp breath through his teeth with a slight shake of his head. The two men walked together in sync, Frenchies hand extending towards your face, brushing the whisps of hair from your face.

The door to the rickety guest room opened with a harsh creak, slamming into the wall beside it before you were tossed onto the springy mattress. Butcher panted hard, large shoulders rising and falling as he stood at the foot of the bed beside Frenchie; A beat meets you all. A moment of silent clarity, the lustful clouds seeming to fade as Butcher parted his lips, looking down at you with a hungry expression.

“Just give us the word, yeah?” You took a slow breath, propped up on your shoulder as your pulse thickening in your ears, temples ringing with the unfamiliar thrill of being so easily tossed around despite your strength. You swallowed, eyes moving between the two before speaking with a slight nod.

"Yes.. Show me,"

This was all Butcher needed - Just the slight nudge that you were willing to give him was enough, more than enough. He moved quickly, large hands essentially ripping the loose jeans from your waist. He wanted to tease, to play the dancing game of making you beg for it - Yet he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. Butcher’s large fingers moved to rub over your underwear, sliding down your thigh; Of course, he could still tease through his teeth gritting need for pleasure. Frenchie had pulled his shirt over his head, his muscular arms flexing, coated, and painted in scars and fading stick and poke tattoos. He stretched his arms over his head, neck cracking as he leaned it back and forth. The French man gave a pleased purr from this, sighing between his teeth as he watched Butcher kneel at the foot of the bed. He had hooked his arms under your legs, pulling them effortlessly to tuck over his large shoulders. Butcher gave a quiet shudder from this alone, his fingers tracing down the fabric of your underwear; He could see you twitch just from this, prying a smile to pierce his intent gaze. His index finger drew towards your growing heat, letting the textured pad press over the hardened space between your quivering legs. He slowly moved, tantalizingly taking in your slight reactions to the shifting weight of his finger against your sensitive clit; He drank down your reactions with a low satisfied hum, chuckling darkly with a throaty tone, more like a growl than anything else.

“Wonder how wet they are just from sitting on my cock, hm?” Butcher let his gaze lazily move towards Frenchie, who now moved to get on the springy bed, wearing his boxers and striped ankle socks. He wet his lips, peering down at you, his large fingers weaving through your hair - The motion was loving, contrasting how Butcher now used his other hand to gently press at your clothed entrance. To say it was warm would be offensive; It was searing, the cotton damp, your arousal seeping through the fabric as Butcher tutted.

“Oh - Baby; You really need it bad, don’t you?” The brit’s tone was playful, just mocking enough for Frenchie to join in on the soft teasing.

“Poor thing, sweet little devil,” The man continued to slip his fingers through your hair, brushing it away from your face before letting his digits tangle in the wefts - He tugged gently, biting his lip as he used one of his hands to pin down your shoulders. Butcher leaned in, his rough palms sweeping down your thighs as he let his lips push onto your soft clit, his tongue darting out just enough to soak the space of fabric. His tongue was smooth, working over the spot with deep breaths; He couldn’t even taste you yet, but you knew that Butcher was yours. The man's fingers tightened around your legs, keeping them tucked over his shoulders as he felt you begin to buck into his movements.

Your underwear was stripped quickly down your legs, Butcher keeping his eyes on your body - The prospect of more and more flesh being revealed to him was enough to make one of his hands drop to his still aching cock, demanding his attention as the underwearfell to the ground. Butcher leaned in as he palmed himself, lips and facial hair sliding over your thighs as he shuddered, taking in the sight of your exposed body. He messily undid his belt as he let his teeth gently sink into your skin, groaning at the soft warmth. You gasped in turn, eyes swimming up to meet Frenchie's, a nearly sheepish expression tracing your face. Butcher's free hand moved to your clit, gently pulling the hood back before rolling his tongue over the sensitive nub. He took in a slow breath, savoring the taste and feeling of you in his mouth as his fingers now gripped his own cock, moaning into your heat. As much as the man wanted to hold back for your sake, he found it impossible, his mouth sinking over your dripping cunt with a low growl - Like a starved animal devouring a meal. The vibrations of his rumbling sounds gently reverberated against your clit, his tongue working in slow circles around it as his thick fingers came to rub against your entrance. The feeling of how wet you had become made him almost smug with pleasure, chuckling quietly to himself as his middle finger slowly began to sink in. It wasn't anywhere near the width of your own - It stretched you deliciously, the small bend of the digit pulling upwards into your cunt, coaxing any moans and sharp gasps he could from you. Your fingertips tingled, biting your lip harshly as the sensation of Butcher's smooth tongue contrasted to the rough tickle of his facial hair. You gave a quiet gasp as he sunk into you, his finger reaching the depths you were never able to by yourself, rocking slowly back and forth now. Frenchie watched wickedly, one hand moving to intertwine his fingers with yours, how he had done on the couch only an hour or so prior. His voice came in a slow purring wave, still using his other hand to string through your hair.

"That's it, Mon cher."

Butcher pressed his face hungrily to your cunt, now using his mouth more feverently, thick fingers still rolling in and out with obscene noises. His beard beaded with your arousal, his heavy lidded eyes sweeping up to catch your gaze. His eyes were soft, yet completely and entirely sure of what he wanted. Upon seeing you, Butcher didn’t slow down; in fact, he bent his finger ever so slowly, moaning at the feeling of your heat clenching obscenely around his digit. As he drew his soaked finger from you, he pulled it to his mouth, dragging it over his tongue, coating his middle finger with a dripping mix of saliva and your arousal. He pressed both of them to the other, beads of slick tangled in his beard, as he breathed raggedly - He wasn't finished; in truth, he had hardly even begun. Butcher rocked his own hips into his hand, taking in slow, drawn-out gasps as he slid his fingers in slowly. He took his time, drinking down your shifting expressions and soft moans, only propelling his need to make you his. Entirely, and absolutely. His fingers were thick, curving at the second knuckle, pressing his fingertips against your searing slick walls with a shuddered groan.

“Fuck, baby - Look at the mess you’re making,”

It was true; Your glossy arousal dripped down towards Butcher’s wrist now, his sweater sleeve rolled over his muscular arms, veins bulging as he rocked his fingers in and out of you. He enjoyed this, reveled in this feeling of watching you shake around him, legs trembling as he chuckled quietly - This would be fun. Your breathing quickened, hands desperately grabbing at any stability nearby with a tight grasp.

Frenchie was gentle with his movements as he held your flushed face now. He didn’t mind the harsh clenching of your fist now on his leg in the slightest; Perhaps you could feel just how much that power made him ache for you so hungrily. As your face became level with Frenchie’s thighs, boxers leaving little to the imagination, Butcher had taken ahold of your waist. It seemed both men were finished playing games. As you were now on all fours before the two, Butcher’s hand slowly extended, large palm meeting the small of your back and pressing down ever so slowly. Just enough until he was satisfied with the arch - Perfect to use you, Butcher’s hands on your waist as he forces you back into his hips; His mind raced nearly as fast as his heart did. As he lifted his hand, he gave a short sigh before letting it hit crack down against your ass. The sound the contact made was delicious, but the sound you made was something otherworldly entirely. He gave your soft skin a squeeze, soothing the now raising hand print with a satisfied bite of his bottom lip - He couldn’t fall off track, though. He needed this. Butcher’s hands grasped at your thighs as he returned his tongue back to your clit, taking it into his mouth greedily.

Frenchie strung his fingers through your hair as he watched the clashing mix of pleasure and pain seem to cause an onslaught of different expressions. He let a slow pleased purr leave him as he cocked his head, looking down at you. Frenchie had always looked at you with warmth, even when watching Butcher overstimulate you - Yet now, it was something else. No smile, full lips parted as he pulled in ragged breaths, as if the sight of you alone, so close to him, was enough to take his breath entirely.

“Let me show you, souris.”

He spoke as he drew one of his large hands from your hair, moving to slide over his boxers, the friction causing his hips to hitch forward - He was desperate, yet seemed to think he hid it well. He didn’t. The stain of precum on the fabric was evidence enough. You breathed hard, gasps and soft yelps passing your parted lips as you kept the contact of Frenchie's pointed gaze. Butcher was ravenous, your thighs shaking and beading with sweat as your body ground against the man's tongue desperately.

"B-Butcher... Oh fuck," You managed to gasp out of the words as your eyes squeezed shut, Butcher's tongue lashing at your clit feverently. Upon hearing Butcher's name uttered in such a desperate whimper made the man sing; He hummed, a sound emanating from the back of his throat, pushed up from his chest in a deep pleased purr. His fingers continued the motion, not wanting to push the you too hard, but still keeping a consistent pace - Just enough to make you squirm, just enough to make your knees shake. Butcher's tongue continued, unwavering as he matched the pace of his fingers; He was cruel, to say the least, yet the mewls and passing whimpers he managed to pull from you, only egged him on.

"I know, I know,"

Frenchie smiled sadistically down towards you, thumb stringing through your hair with a quiet hum. It was almost mocking, his words comforting yet laced with a teasingly playful chuckle. It was sweet watching you writhe like this - It reminded him of himself the first time with Butcher. He couldn't wait to see your reaction to be taken so ruthlessly. The thought made him twitch, arching his back almost instinctively as he kept his dim eyes on you, speaking quietly.

"You make so much noise, huh? Let's fix that,"

Frenchie sighed quietly, other hand moving to wrap over the base of his cock - He looked down at you for a moment, hand slowly moving over his length with hazy eyes; He had thought countless times about this, looking down at you on your knees with a flustered expression, tentatively using your mouth and listening to Frenchie's orders. He could see the hunger to please, down deep in your now teary eyes; Frenchie moved your head downwards, silently guiding you with a bite of his bottom lip. He exhaled sharply as your lips met the sensitive tip of his cock, beading with glossy precum - As much as he wanted to force himself into the your mouth, he held back. He enjoyed the slow movements, gentle caresses and hitching breaths, even as you trembled with flushed cheeks, clearly reaching a level of intense desperation.

"Start slow, open that pretty mouth,"

As Frenchie spoke, his hand slid from your hair, down to your jaw. He clutched it firmly, yet his thumb moved gently over your cheekbone, working towards your bottom lip. He rolled the pad of his thumb over the gathering drool on your lips, a silent request to enter - As you complied, Frenchie's thumb slid into your mouth, slowly rolling over your tongue with a shuddered exhale. You could never know just how badly he needed this. You moved slowly, still dazed, your eyes glossy as you looked up to Frenchie, and when your lips finally met the man's cock you felt the heavy veil of euphoria roll over your shoulders, the need to please, to obey. As you opened your mouth, your hot breath rose goosebumps on Frenchie's neck, who now took short sharp inhales, only able to focus on the feeling of you. You were so close, and as your tongue began to gently press against the base of him, he couldn't help but let a whimper surpass his lips. With that sound, you sunk slowly around him, tongue slowly guiding his twitching cock deeper into your velvety mouth.

Frenchie sucked his teeth, hissing a sharp breath - Despite the harsh noise his fingers still threaded through your hair gently. He wouldn't push you, he knew this feeling would just get more electric, gradually teased by your movements. His cock pulsed at the motion, a glaze of sweat already glinting at his temples, eyes rolling back to slide shut in euphoric anticipation. He couldn't get too excited, taking in the sight of you was too much at once, instead just allowing the feeling of your soft tongue to numb his senses. His fingers shook in your hair, thighs twitching as he bit back to urge to stutter his hips forward into the welcoming heat of your mouth.

"Oui..."

Butcher continued the assault on your exposed body, tongue messily lapping at your clit, swallowing down anything you were willing to give with a greed of a starved animal. His cock was aching at the feeling of you around his fingers, the resistance fighting against his quickening thrusts as he moaned quietly. The sound alone was obscene, flesh against flesh, shuddering gasps and growing moans escalating as the seconds passed by at a mind spinning rate. Butcher slowly drew his fingers and mouth away, working at his cock with his palm, now soaked in your arousal. Butcher slid his tongue over and between his fingers, refusing to let any go to waste as he lined up his thick cock to your desperate entrance.

"I won't lie to you," Butcher murmured the words, the tip of his cock slipping over your sensitive clit, teasing your entrance with a pleased hum. "It's gonna be a tight fuckin' fit."

There wasn't a beat missed, the slow burning sensation of being stretched open grasping wrecklessly at your senses, the electric basis of it forcing Butcher's body to crave more. He sunk in slowly, a growl reverberating from his chest in a deep wave of pleasure; You were a vice around him, only halfway inside you and Butcher's head was filled with the sound of his rushing heartbeat, biting his lower lip harshly.

"That's right, love - Doing so fucking good for us,"

You felt the warmth of Frenchie's cock invade your mouth, his hips twitching with restraint. Your throat began to tense against the intrusion, the sensation of forbidden pleasure flooded your veins; You wanted to believe it was the weed, the way your movements slowed as you now felt your own hips rocking, the sound of Butcher's voice a lush cacoon, coddling your sweat glazed frame with calloused hands. You felt the tip of his cock tease your swollen clit, the promise of a tight fit making your body quiver. The first thrust was a shockwave, pulsing through your body - He was telling the truth. You moaned loudly, a guttural sound that was cut off by Frenchie's cock hitching at the sudden vibration. The sensation was overwhelming, yet both men groaning in unison was a symphony. Your body lit ablaze, firing off soft gasps and muffled yelps. Butcher's low growl and praise sent waves of head spinning need through your body, your pussy greedily taking all he had to offer, grinding yourself against his thighs.

"Someone's eager, aye?"

Butcher chuckled darkly, letting the sound fall into a deep groan. The sounds of your hips rocking against Butcher's thrusts filled the room, the wet slapping of skin against skin accentuating the symphony of your shared pleasure - You let out a muffled whimper, your mouth full of Frenchie's cock, your throat working to accommodate the imposing length of him. You could feel Butcher's cock pulsing inside of you, each merciless thrust sending shivers up your spine. The combination of Frenchie in your mouth and Butcher inside you was a crescendo of sensation, your body a willing instrument in the orchestra of lust. The growls and groans of the men filled the room, the raw carnality of it all pushing you closer to the edge. As Butcher's pace increased, you felt the spasms of your senses roll waves of electric heat over your body. Your thighs twitched, the praise from Butcher, like a whip, lured you to do more, to be more. You focused on taking Frenchie deeper, the vibrations from your moans a delicious torment to him. You could feel your orgasm building, a storm crashing in your foggy mind. The heady mix of being filled by two men, one in your mouth, the other in your pussy, was a testament to your skill, a siren's song that would leave the men wrapped around your finger. The idea was mouthwatering.

Sweat glistened on your skin, your body shaking with the onslaught of pleasure. The realization of being shared between the two men, the thought of their pleasure being at the mercy of your body, sent you spiraling over the edge. You cried out, the strained sound muffled by Frenchie's now throbing cock, your heat clenching tightly around Butcher. Your orgasm pulsed through you, a tide of pleasure that threatened to drown you, pull you under with the two men that infected your mind.

"F-fuck," Frenchie's voice was practically trembling. "I'm so close

The sight of you moaning around Frenchie, your body quaking with orgasmic bliss, was enough to send Butcher over the edge alone. The taste of him was intoxicating, his hips stuttering up into your welcoming hot mouth, whispering under his breath as he focused on the feeling of your tongue. His chest rose and fell, taking in ragged breaths that began to speed up, desperate to release himself down your throat, a heady potent mix of dominance and submission, fighting to please. Frenchie came with a soft whimper, eyebrows knitting together tightly as he filled your mouth, spilling over your lips in a messy thrust. Butcher's hips began to buck, thrusts unsteady and punctuated, cock tensing and pulsating inside you as you swallowed all Frenchie could give. Tears of overstimulation peaked at his lashes, gazing at you holding him in your mouth as Butcher pounded slammed into you, his hold on your waist tight as he came, his cum flooding your quivering pussy. The pulsing of your walls around him like an insatiable vice, the near instant feeling of release a cathartic relief.

You laid there for a beat, body still trembling, the taste of Frenchie lingering on your tongue, Butcher's hot cum dripping down your thighs. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, sex, the sound of all three of you collectively catching your breaths. Butcher was the first to move, to break the hazey moment as he drew away from you with a soft grunt. You rested your head against Frenchie’s stomach, legs shaking and nearly collapsing as Butcher released his grip from you. For a moment, you feared Butcher would simply leave - Though slowly, he eased down onto the creaky mattress beside you. His large hand rose slowly, brushing the ruffled hair from your face. The the two men lay on either side of you, their hands lightly stroking your skin and hair as you all relished in the high of your shared orgasm.

"One hell of a team building exercise." Butcher muttered softly, his low voice rumbling as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your hair.

"Well done, mon cher."

[personasintro]

Mutual Help | #23

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭: @kithtaehyung

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mature content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.2k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

Sipping a cup of coffee, you savor the taste in your mouth before you swallow while a soft smile plays on your lips. No matter how many times you busy yourself, your mind keeps coming back to yesterday but most importantly, to Jungkook. Having sex with him yesterday felt different, so different that it scares you how much he affected you and your body during it. You felt so content and everything felt so much more intimate than ever. It was Jungkook's way of apology, another way which you welcomed with open arms. Overall, yesterday was amazing and just a simple thought of you two taking a shower together  makes you want to giggle.

Jungkook squirts a shower gel, the one he uses all the time, onto his palm before he starts rubbing your shoulders, washing you with tender and slow movements. Moving to your breasts, he cups them and gives them a proper squeeze that makes you giggle. 

"Don't you have enough?" you ask amusingly, still feeling him between your legs and the pressure his length left there. You're sensitive there and probably swollen as well. 

"Hm, I can't get enough of you." he murmurs, kissing you onto your neck as you find this moment so intimate and sweet. And maybe weird, because for some reason you feel like the two of you are crossing some boundaries. On the other hand, you're glad he doesn't just fuck you and goes straight to acting like none of that happened. 

"Liar," you snort, feeling him moving his hands down to your stomach as he starts washing it. When he's done, his hands hover over your lower stomach before his tattooed hand disappears between your legs. "Jungkook." you warn him, warm water hitting both of your bodies but mainly yours as you stand right beneath the shower head. 

"What? I'm washing you," he murmurs, starting to wash your heat as you gasp. "So swollen." he comments, causing you to blush and murmur his name in embarrassment. 

"Whose fault is that?" you murmur, hearing a low chuckle behind you. 

"Busted," he chuckles, circling your clit. "Too much?" he asks, a worry laced in his tone which makes you smile. 

"It feels good," you answer, tilting your head back against his chest. Your arms find their way behind you, wrapping around Jungkook's neck and gasping when you feel his soft length pressed against your ass. 

"Fuck," you moan, eyes rolling back when he enters you with his fingers. 

And all you can do is enjoy this before the food comes, but that's not on your mind at all despite your empty stomach. All you can focus is Jungkook's fingers and round two of pleasure and a fucking great orgasm ahead of you. 

"How's your boyfriend?"

Memories crash down at the sound of your colleague's monotonous voice that has a slight edge to it, which is recognized as teasing. You think.

"He's not my boyfriend," you roll your eyes, putting the cup down before you glance at Yoongi's amused eyes. "He's my best friend." you add, knowing it's pointless when you notice the quirk of his lips.

"You kiss all your friends?" he asks amusingly, but still remains a neutral facial expression that would probably make you laugh if he wasn't interrogating you.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you open your mouth; "He kissed me." you point out, causing him to snort as he shakes his head.

"From what I've seen, you enjoyed it..." he comments but before you can cuss him out, he adds; "So, you really are just friends?"

You almost want to joke about him being interested in your life. From what you've seen, he barely gets interested about anything and certainly not you, even though he's one of the easiest people to talk to here.

"Something like that." you murmur, reaching for your coffee that you'd like to finish before Junho barges into the break room and starts giving orders.

"Oh, so he's your fuck buddy?" he asks, causing you to choke on the coffee as you swallow it painfully before you start to cough. "You should've just said it." he shrugs innocently, walking away from you just like that but you notice the little smirk he tries to hide.

You'd yell at him, not wanting him to get away with this but you're not alone in a break room and the last thing you want is everyone to hear what you were about to say.

Your phone vibrates on the desk where you put it, causing you to unlock it and open a message.

Kook: what color is your underwear? ;))

Snorting, you start typing.

"I'm not doing this" 

Kook: :(( you're no fun 

"Aren't you working anyway?" 

Kook: I'm on my break, but I can always make some time for you ;) 

"I'm still not doing this" 

Kook: :(( disappointed but not surprised Kook: I'm gonna buy us some takeout on my way to pick you up, any requests? 

You smile, already excited about the food. Jungkook is taking you home today, but you still have to go to his place to get your groceries and the two of you agreed this morning to have dinner together before he takes you home.

"Surprise me :)"

Kook: I will ;)

"Thanks for the food, it was delicious." you tell Jungkook, patting your lips with a napkin as he cleans up containers where the food had been.

"No problem," he signs out, washing his hands before he turns around and leans against the kitchen counter, eyes already set on you.

He has a weird smirk spreading all over his lips which makes you stare at him confusingly, wondering what's his intention.

"I've got something else for you." he muses, tongue poking his inner cheek as if he's nervous and excited to bring up this topic.

Who knows what's going on inside his head, and you don't have time to try finding out when you're confused and nervous. He got you something?

"What?" you ask curiously, head tilting to a side as he straightens himself and nods his head towards his bedroom.

"Come." Is all he says, already walking there and you've nothing else to do than just follow him and wondering what the hell is this all about.

You're not going to lie, you're curious especially when he reaches for a box that's sitting on his bed. You're definitely confused, you were supposed to have dinner and then he should've driven you home, but here he is. Handing you some kind of white box with nothing on it, not even a bow or something that boxes always have when they're given as a present.

"If something's gonna jump at me, I'm gonna kill you." you threaten, already scared of what's in there.

"Nothing's gonna jump at you," he chuckles, rolling his eyes at you. "Open it." he says, biting his lower lip in anticipation while you eye the box with wary eyes.

Sighing, there's nothing heavy or moving inside of it, so you decide to open it. Your curiosity gets the best of you and you open it, tossing the thin paper away to reveal Jungkook's present to you. Gasping, you almost drop the box when you're staring at one thing that you'd never expect to be there. You'd never expect Jungkook to get you something like that. In other situations, you'd probably die of laughter but all you can do is eye the pink vibrator with a mortified look. Mouth open, eyes slowly averting to Jungkook who seems to be enjoying your reaction. Arms crossed over his chest, he's biting his lip to prevent himself from grinning and all you can do is stutter over your words, before you find a courage to talk properly.

"What the hell? Why would you buy this?" you ask, eyes dropping back to the box.

You can't believe there's a fucking vibrator.

"Well, you've never talked about anything you'd like to try. So I wanted to make this more interesting for you and this looked like a great idea," he explains, watching you as you slowly sit up on the edge of his bed with a puzzled look.

That's true. You wanted him to fulfill your desires, although you're not sure if using vibrator is one of them. You've been so pleased with Jungkook, only him, that you've never thought about other options. Sure, you've tried spanking, throat fucking but that's about all.

Oh my god. Does he think you're boring in bed? Is he tired of you, so he bought you a freaking dildo?

"Please don't overthink this. I thought we could try it, but if you're not comfortable with this we don't have to do anything." he speaks up before you can voice your thoughts, even though you weren't planning on it. Not anytime soon anyway. You're so shocked that you can't even react or talk properly.

"We? You want us to try this?" you ask slowly, looking back at your best friend that gives you a short nod.

"You can try it alone, it's totally up to you."

"What? No! That's not what I meant... I thought you bought this because-- never mind." you shake your head, not wanting him to think that you're just overthinking prick.

"Because what? Come on, talk to me." he says, already walking up to you as he gets on his knees and gently places his hands over yours, trying to look into your eyes.

There's no reason in avoiding him, or his big doe eyes, so you look at him. "I thought... maybe you find me boring, so you bought this."

"What?" he lets out a chuckle, your brows pinching together. "You're not boring. You think that I think sex with you is boring?" he raises his brows, staring at you as if you just said the most stupid thing ever.

"Yeah?" you answer unsurely, lifting your brows. "Argh, I don't know. I certainly didn't think you bought it because you want us to try it." you exclaim, finding it easier to talk to him. Maybe it's his hands that are caressing your knees and the soft gaze he's giving you.

"That's if you want this," he reminds you, "You're helping me so much, and I want to do the same for you. I want you to enjoy this. Although, don't get me wrong, our sex is fucking amazing." He's quick to explain, eyes not budging as he's talking and you listen to him.

Our sex is fucking amazing. It sure is. And the thought that it's going to end soon makes you sad for some reason. Fuck, Y/N. It's just sex, you're going to find someone else. Not just for sex, but someone who's going to love you and you're going to love that person too.

"Is this something you want to try?" you ask him curiously, and you see him relax when he notices your interest and that you're no longer overthinking his present.

"If you want to," he answers diplomatically, which causes you to glare at him. You really want to know if he wants it as well.

The thought of him using this just makes you curious and kind of excited. It's something new. Your sex life used to be boring and you had only one partner in your life, Haechan. And you've never had the balls to buy something like this, not even when you wanted to pleasure yourself. Your fingers could do only so little, that you often ended up more frustrated with no orgasm.

"Fuck yeah, I wanna try this with you but not when we're not on the same page." he tells you, assuring you that you don't have to feel obligated to do this because he wants to.

Good thing is that he knows your personality and you in general, knowing that you wouldn't do something you don't want to. But his own personality has the need to emphasize that this is totally up to you. He doesn't want to pressure you into anything and meanwhile you've been enjoying your sex, just like he's been, he's been thinking about how to make this more memorable for you as well. He knows you're a real freak somewhere inside of you and that you're much more naughty than he thought. You manage to surprise him every time you two are intimate.

"Actually, I'm quite intrigued by this," you tell him, pursing your lips to hide a smile of embarrassment.

Of course, you know there's no reason for you to feel embarrassed because Jungkook always makes sure you're comfortable with everything, but you can't help it. You're still in shock that he bought something like this for you.

"When did you even buy this?"

He chuckles, taking your hand as he laces his fingers with your own. "I ordered it two days ago and it came today." he answers, watching you as you grab the vibrator with your free hand and examine the silicone object.

It's soft, it certainly doesn't feel like a real dick but it feels nice to touch. It looks pretty flexible as well. "Why pink?"

"Is that your question?" he snorts, but seeing your curiosity he answers you anyway. "I don't know, I thought it'd look pretty inside you and it matches with your pussy."

"Jungkook!" you shriek, cheeks burning red.

"What? I'm just honest." he laughs, pecking the back of your hand as he keeps stroking it with his fingers.

"It looks expensive." you point out, eyeing the vibrator's tip.

It looks like a real dick, well minus the pink color and the fact it's fake and made out of silicone, and even the size isn't horrendously big. It kind of matches with Jungkook's size and you wonder if he picked it up purposely.

"It was," he nods, causing your eyes to snap at him. "I'm not telling you the price." he says immediately, knowing that look you give him.

"Why would you buy something so expensive then? I'm sure they had cheaper options." you murmur, hearing him laugh because you didn't tell him he should've bought anything. You said cheaper instead.

He finds it very amusingly, his nose scrunching as his shoulders shake in laughter. He calms down, licking his lips while a soft amusing smile decorates them.

"Just the best for my baby." he tells you simply, your eyes almost bulging out but you control yourself.

Fuck, did your heart just jump?

"Don't say stuff like that." you murmur again, avoiding his eyes as you pretend you're eyeing the sex toy instead.

"Why not? It's true." he tells you simply, placing another kiss on your hand which makes you sigh.

True, what? That you're his baby or he wants just the best for you?

He's starting messing up with your head, not intentionally at least, you know that much. And you're also not stupid to notice that the relationship the two of you have is different. It's not just sex. You're aware of Jungkook's caring and sweet personality, and now that you think of it this attitude and behavior suits him. But you hadn't expected him to be like this with you. He's so sweet, constantly kissing you and calling you all these nice names that makes you want to kiss him and just let him fuck you senselessly. None of you have voiced these thoughts and you wonder if Jungkook noticed it as well. It happened naturally, just like everything in your friendship, and those thoughts just occurred to your mind all of a sudden. You were so focused on Jungkook and how amazingly he makes you feel, that you completely didn't notice how the two of you act around each other. He's always been affectionate with you, but morning kisses and his tender and caring actions could be mistaken as romantic and an act of love.

Love. How stupid.

But this is just sex. And you're going to enjoy it while it lasts. You both settled onto something after all. You pretend to be his girlfriend and he'll help you with your desires. Mutual Help. Yes, that's how he called it and that's what this is.

"Let's try it." you speak up, slowly putting the dildo back into the box as Jungkook's eyes widen in shock.

"Right now? Are you sure? You looked very shocked." he asks, eyes filled with worry but also a hidden lust behind them.

"I did look shocked," you agree, "But I want this." you assure him, giving him a slight smile he returns.

Giving you a little nod, he straightens himself, still on his knees but enough to reach your lips which he kisses. He gives a few pecks to them, before he stands up and hovers over you. Reaching for his shirt and clutching it in a fist, you pull him towards you which surprises him and causes him to stumble.

"Easy tiger," he muses, letting out a soft chuckle while he holds himself in his hands, careful not to crash you.

You giggle, hands too preoccupied to unbuckling his belt. "I should be the one calling you tiger, you bought me a freaking dildo." you joke, causing him to snicker.

"Don't act like you don't like my present." he teases you, pecking your nose while you struggle to take off his jeans which stays underneath his bum.

You start stroking him through his boxers, noticing how he clenches his jaw and tries to control his reactions which to be fair, amuses you.

"Ah, is this present supposed to be a replacement for my ripped stockings?" you raise your brow, mischief sparkling in your eyes when he stares at you through hooded eyes.

"Let's be honest, dildo is much better than any stockings." he snorts, causing you to do the same before you scoff.

"Says who? You?"

Jungkook nods teasingly, nibbling on his bottom lip as you keep stroking him, feeling his length hardening under your touch.

"To answer your question," he gulps when you squeeze him, your lips curving to a slight smirk. "No, it's not a replacement for your stockings. I'll buy them for you. I just can't believe you're still thinking about some stockings." he chuckles, hissing when you squeeze him a little bit too hard.

Intentionally, of course.

"Of course, I am. I'm a woman, I love my clothes." you sneer, wiggling your brows that makes him laugh.

"I'll buy you anything you want, just forget it already." he jokes, your brow raising.

"Careful, Jeon. Don't promise something you can't keep." you tease him.

The corner of his lips quirks up as he starts kissing down your neck, almost shifting your focus but you won't let him distract you.

"All this for some stupid stockings," he mutters against your lips, causing you to giggle. "You're gonna be the death of me."

Pulling his hardening length, he groans quietly as you circle your thumb over his tip that leaks with pre-cum. Pushing against his chest, he seems confused but follows your hands as you switch your position and push him on the bed. He opens his mouth in a mere shock, but licks his pink lips when he sees you smirking down at him. All his attention is on you, eyes watching your every move, drinking you in especially when you spit into your hand before you grip him and start stroking his length. The tip is red, skin velvet and strained wanting some attention. And you give him that.

So far, Jungkook seems to be controlling himself and barely reacting to your touch, which to be honest, quite annoys you. You take it as a challenge, wanting to get some reaction from him except his occasional silenced groans that seem to get out of his mouth unintentionally. The first touch of your lips is when you kiss the reddened tip, tasting his pre-cum and almost rolling your eyes at the sweet musky taste. You've never been so turned on about getting head. But this is not just someone, he's not even your real boyfriend and here you're, almost salivating all over his cock when you barely put him in your mouth. It's everything about him. How hot he looks laying there, almost fully clothed with his boxers resting underneath his cock and exposing that intimate part of him. Or how sharper his jawline looks from below where you're seated between his legs. How his tattooed arm rests over his stomach, those veins popping out of his beautiful skin. And lastly, how eager you're to please him because that arouses you even more to the point your underwear is sticking to your core.

Opening your mouth, you let his cock head inside just to swirl your tongue over it which makes his breath hitch but other than that, he barely reacts. Frowning with a challenge in your mind, you take him deeper and start sucking him off. Going back to his tip, just to go deeper with each time and repeating that process all over again. You always go back to his tip, sucking it and swirling your tongue against it like your life depends on it. Jungkook is not a vocal person during sex, of course he knows his way around words to make the whole enjoyment of sex even more memorable and pleasing. And during that time, you can hear him groaning and growling from time to time, especially when he's about to cum but apart from that, he's not extremely vocal. You're definitely winning in this category, which probably strokes his male ego and embarrasses you when you think about your vocals after sex.

Was I being too loud? Did someone hear me? 

These kinds of questions occur in your mind, not really bothering you or something like that. It's just a simple thought of curiosity and maybe a little bit of embarrassment. There are thin walls everywhere, you wonder if your or Jungkook's neighbors heard you. You drift away during sex so often that sometimes, you don't even realize what you say most of the time during it.

When you pull away, causing his cock slip from your mouth, you lick your lips and watch him slowly open his eyes to meet your dark and lustful gaze. "Was that good?" you almost purr, wanting to hear a praise or something at this point.

You watch his tongue slowly sliding across his bottom lip, cheeks slightly flushed as he gives you a tiny smirk. "Perfect."

But you don't have to be done with him, you'd do anything to feel him cumming inside your mouth again. Just the thought of it makes you clench around nothing and almost forces you to let out a needy whimper.

"You want me to—"

"No," he says immediately, rising from his lying position and suddenly hovering over you even from his sitting position, mimicking your own. "It's your turn."

And before you can protest, because he hasn't cum yet and you'd really want to make that happen, he's already standing up tucking his cock back into his boxers. Smirking, his lips quirk up in amused curl at the way your shoulders drop in disappointment but you don't care how easily he can tell. You're not trying to hide it anyway.

However, you watch him undress his jeans which he drops onto the floor and reaches for the box. Pulling out the pink vibrator, that you've already acquainted yourself with, before he tosses the box onto the floor as well and places the sex toy next to you. Slowly, like a snake that's eyeing its prey, he pins you down with his darkened eyes meanwhile a satisfied grin appears on those appealing lips as your back meets the mattress.

When his lips press against your jaw, neck and slowly move at the top of your breasts, you feel yourself arching from the bed in a desperate need to feel him more and closer. While his lips are preoccupied with your exposed skin that is available to his mouth, Jungkook's hands are too busy gripping your hips, ass and thighs.

"Jungkook," you breathe out, "Please." you whimper, clutching his shirt in your hand as you pull at the fabric.

He pulls away, slowly licking his lips as he starts working on your clothes, undressing you like you wanted him to. When you start tugging his shirt again, he gets the message and takes it off, giving your eyes another worthy sight of his toned abs.

You're momentarily distracted by none other than Jungkook himself, too busy salivating over your best friend to fully focus on his hands that work on your clothes until you're completely bare in front of him. There's not an ounce of shame or embarrassment, it's not the first time he sees you naked and when he drinks you in with those dark orbs, you grow even more needy and confident.

"You're beautiful," he says softly, eyes shifting at your breasts that are perked up just for him. "So beautiful."

"Stop," you whisper, avoiding his mere confusion that settles on those eyes before he shakes it off.

"Why? It's true." he tells you, fingers pinching your nipple that makes you groan at the sudden pressure he puts there.

"You shouldn't," you try to tell him, voice strained while you're having trouble fully focusing on your own words. Again. It's just what Jungkook does. He's completely messing up with your head. "You can't." you add, whimpering when he envelopes your nipple with his mouth and starts sucking your sensitive bud.

"I should," he says, twirling his tongue around your nipple before he adds; "And I can."

You want to protest, tell him that he shouldn't be telling you all that stuff. You know he'd just question it and you'd have to tell him how weird it makes you feel. On the other hand, you're completely giddy all inside whenever he compliments you, you can feel your heart beating so fast that it almost hurts. But he shouldn't be saying this to you, he's not your real boyfriend. He should say those things to someone he loves. Loves differently than you as his best friend. Someone whom he's romantically involved with.

But you can't bring yourself to tell him that, not in the middle of this and especially not when he gives the same attention to your other nipple making your thoughts go away in seconds. He spreads your legs with his hand that slowly palms your heat, humming against your nipple when your wetness coats his fingers.

"You like this, don't you?" he chuckles deeply, still palming your heat while circling his finger around your opening just to tease you.

All you can do is melt under his touch, incomprehensible words in a form of pleading leave your mouth. You can't bear all this teasing, you need to feel something more. You need him and you don't care how desperate you look or sound.

You're too distracted to notice him grabbing the vibrator, until you feel it being pressed against your clit. It's colder than Jungkook's hands and it pries your eyes open, seeing him pressing the pink toy against you. As soon as your eyes meet, the corner of his mouth quirks up in a slightest teasing smirk before your whole body jerks with surprise. The toy comes to life, sending vibrations straight to your clit that makes you arch yourself.

"Fuck," you gasp, not expecting that to happen. "You didn't tell me--"

"What? That it can do this?" he says, pressing the toy even more into your clit that makes you moan. "Oh, baby. It can do so much more."

With that, the vibration gets more intense and faster, your clit throbbing almost painfully while Jungkook starts rubbing the toy at your most sensitive spot. It's different – you've never felt this kind of pleasure. You suddenly understand Jungkook's idea of trying something new and exploring a new field of something you never thought you'd do. He's truthful to his words, doing his part of helping you with your desires that you didn't expect to have and want.

The new pleasant feeling makes your whole body shiver, or maybe it's Jungkook hovering over you almost naked with dark hair falling onto his face, or it's a simple combination of both that takes you over the edge before you can even realize it. With another rub and skilful twist of his wrist, you're cumming undone just from the set of vibration. Jungkook rides you through it, slowing down the vibration until he fully turns it off when you're done breathless.

"How was it?" he asks in a hushed tone, eyes watching you as your own open slowly, meeting his gaze.

He kisses down your jaw, sucking your skin there and you're too fucked out to tell him to be careful about possible marks. You can't be showing up at work with hickeys covering your skin, Yoongi would never let you live and you don't need unnecessary attention from your colleagues anyway.

"Amazing." you manage to let out, still feeling your heart hammering against your chest.

"You ready for more?" he asks against your skin, sending a few rounds of shivers down your whole body as your breath hitches.

"More?" you ask breathlessly, wondering what he's got planned for tonight.

Surely, this is not the end of your night and pleasure. Jungkook's cock is still fully hard and yearning for that attention which makes your eyes widen in realization that he still hadn't cum. You were so fully focused on your pleasure that you completely forgot about Jungkook's for a few minutes.

"You didn't think I'm done with you, right?" he chuckles, pecking your lips as he sits up and takes off his boxers, fully exposing his cock to your hungered gaze.

Smirking, he starts pumping himself and the single sight is enough to make lust clouding your mind all over again. You feel yourself clenching and needing that pleasure all over again, despite that you just came. It wasn't enough, you need to feel him inside and just that thought makes you shiver with excitement. Slowly sitting up, you let his dark eyes watch you as you get closer to him, just to put him closer by the back of his neck. You kiss him, letting your lips linger on his own just for a few more seconds before you pull away.

"I want to be on top tonight," you tell him, met with a tiny smirk as he nods.

He reaches for the nightstand, pulling out a condom that you rip from his hands and urge him to lay down. He listens to you, still smirking down at you even from his position as he makes himself comfortable. You open the condom, eyes locked on his while he plops his arms behind his head, laying in his full glory. With cock slapped against his stomach, you grab him and put on the condom before you give him a few pumps. He bites his lip, still smirking at you which causes you to roll your eyes.

"Why the hell are you smirking?" you murmur, hovering over him while you straddle him, not fully sitting onto him.

"Nah, I'm just enjoying this." he muses.

"What? Me being on top?" you chuckle, grabbing his length as you let him run up and down your slit.

"You being so... dominant," he decides to say, eyes closing for a mere moment as you put more pressure onto his length. "Use me, baby. Make yourself cum."

Fuck, he's killing you.

"You ready?" you ask him, looking deeply into his eyes as he grins, poking his inner cheek with a tongue, a habit of his (extremely hot habit), before he opens his mouth;

"Like never before."

[billskeis]

i quickly thought of this after watching a porno and needed to get it out.

ᡣ𐭩 loser virgin bill and his experienced gf

“a-and you’re sure you’re okay with this..?” he stutters as you’re already opening your mouth, drooling at the pretty cock in front of your face, mushroom tip leaking with pre. you stop and just look at bill, whose thighs tremble in nervousness but anticipation as you talked about giving bill a blowjob.

“of course i am! wouldn’t have gone this far if i wasn’t, hm?” you lean your head to rest on one of bill’s thighs looking up at him as he sits upright on the edge of his bed, propped on his elbows as you sit on your knees placed right between his legs. “o-okay..” smiling brightly at the boy in front of you.

sticking out your tongue, wet with drool from how you’re salivating. you’ve been waiting for this moment forever, the right time to finally pounce. from simply hanging out and watching movies in his bedroom, you pulled up with the ‘can i suck you off?’ question, leaving bill in complete and utter shock. and to your surprise, he said yes.

bill has no experience. whatsoever. its so cute. he gets all shy and flustered whenever you make an advance on him. holding his hips, kissing his neck, whispering dirty things into his ears. he’s never known what it’s like to cum. never masturbated in his life. never seen porn before. he’s never fucking seen a tit or pussy, period.

this excites you to the max. you can’t help but physically get wet at the thought of taking your boyfriend’s virginity and corrupting him. and here you are, about to make it happen. you lick up the length of bill’s cock, he whimpers, it’s high pitch and nasally. fucking delicious, you thought.

“ahhnn, y-y/n..” “shhhh baby just let me do all’tha work mmkay?” he nods feverishly, gripping the sheets as you work your tongue along the shaft of his penis. feeling it throb against the flat of your tongue, you moan, propping both your hands on each of his thighs as you hold them wider and begin to bring your whole mouth to the tip of his cock.

engulfing it, you swirl your tongue around the head, ensuring that you lick up alllll the precum that gloops out. “oohh.. f-fuck..” you kitten lick at his cock and look at him, smirking as his dick stays in your mouth, “feelsh’good?” as you talk with his dick in your mouth, bill can’t help but shudder at the erotic scene in front of him. is this what porn is like?

“ja.. my tummy feels nice..” bless his heart. “does it now?” and before he could speak, you go down, bobbing your head up and down his thick length as you motion your tongue to continuously run against the flesh of his cock, feeling every vein that decors his member, cupping his balls in your hands as you fondle them.

“eek! schatzi! no! please!” bill’s legs attempt to clamp close as he tries to bring your head up from his cock, overstimulated from the sudden pleasure of a blowjob. he’s sooo sensitive.. but it’s his fault! how can someone so cute never have gotten a blowjob?? you feel honoured to be his first, and you wanna make sure it’s the best and last he’s ever had.

you swat away at his feeble attempts to escape from you. sucking even harder, you’re hollowing out your cheeks and stick your tongue out deeper to make sure you don’t gag, deep-throating him. his tip hits the back of your throat leading you to moan at the sensation. bill can only moan, mouth formed into an O shape as the rest of his body falls against the bed, there’s no winning with you and he’s given up on trying to stop you.

the sounds are nasty, lewd, wet, and squelchy as you blow off your boyfriend, occasionally stopping to pay extra attention to the head of bill’s cock, his favourite spot. you can tell it’s his favourite because he get’s especially whiny when you do.

“y/n..! y/n baby please stop ‘m gonna pee.. please!!” but you don’t. you don’t understand the concept of stopping because you’ve already gone this far. but bill doesn’t understand that he’s not actually gonna ‘pee.’ how silly of him x3! such a naive boy..

as much as he wants you to stop. he feels shooo good. he’s just too shy to actually admit it, feeling like a complete loser for moaning and whimpering like a bitch in heat cause it’s his first blowjob. he hates how much more experienced you are than him. he wants to make you feel good too! but that’s a discussion for a later time.

as you suckle on the tip, bill finally sees white. breathing extremely heavy, his moans are caught in his throat and they come out as cries. his thighs shake and tremble as he paints your throat walls a creamy white. you milk him, ensuring to suck out every drop of cum from him. it’s delicious, you love the taste. it’s even tastier coming from bill, an addicting ambrosia that you can’t wait to get more of.

latching off bill’s cock with a ‘pop!’ you lick at the cum that formed on the flesh of your lips, relishing in the taste. smirking at your boyfriend, you giggle at how he can’t look at you, eyes darting to everywhere in the room but you. that is, until you cup his face to look at you and place a kiss to his lips.

you dart your tongue to enter his mouth, assaulting his own. tasting himself, he cringes at the taste of his own cum. you like this? he moans into the kiss, not knowing where to place them, holding himself up on the bed instead as you now sit in his lap. as you part lips with him, bill snuggles his head into your chest, now hugging you. “you okay? how was it?” “felt s’good.. i want more..”

petting his hair, you can’t help but laugh at how cute he is. you get up from his lap to grab the tv remote from the floor, movie finished from your previous session. reaching for it from over the bed, bill gasps as he stares at you in front of him, ass up with your skirt all ridden up to reveal the wet patch on your panties. you’re soaked from just sucking him off. “y-y/n.. you’re.. um, i-i—”

“hmm? oh! ‘s all your fault billy.. now come fix it..”