#(if you squint. and also this involves them so)

[specialgradefckr]

Anything you can do...

And what's so special about Satoru Gojo anyways? The way Satoru sees it, there's nothing the original can do that he can't. You shouldn't care about him anymore. You shouldn't care about anything but him.

This work is a part of a series! Read the first part here!

tw: explicit content. dubcon. drugging, captivity. selfcest. feet. yanderes all around. non-consensual cloning.

Gojo has one mission when he gets to you:

Clear his good name and prove to you that the "Satoru Gojo" who'd fooled you was actually a fraud.

Sure, you probably should have known from the beginning, being as obsessed with him as you were, but he had rejected you, and fixations can turn people to dark places.

It was probably all too easy for this phony to march into your life and convince you that all of your dreams had come true; Satoru Gojo loved you after all.

In a way, he feels kind of sorry for you. Really, he was about to break your heart for a second time. It's not even your fault! He himself could admit, the fake is shockingly compelling.

But you'd be devastated, truly. What a shame. To learn that all that love you received was from some stranger, a liar. That the man you desperately adored didn't really want you back.

Man, that's gonna suck for you! He tilts his head back, whistling as the car drives along.

Though he's still not really relationship material, he could probably stick around for that pity fuck. After all, you hadn't been ignoring him on purpose.

No; the reason you were ignoring him was because "he" was telling you to!

It was the perfect cover! If this guy was going to steal his identity, the number one threat to that was him - the real Gojo.

He'd probably intentionally told you to send those videos, only to laugh when you showed him the replies, and then explained that wasn't the "real" him.

The little faker must have even convinced you to keep sending them as a joke.

Then, if Gojo tried to tell you the truth, you'd just brush it off. And if he got pissed off from your messages, he might refuse to tell you at all - a win-win for the fake.

Smart. Of course, he'd probably have to be a little smart to fool you in the first place; his intelligence was one of his best traits. No way you'd mistake someone for him without it.

The car rolls up to your weirdly secluded, distant home. Kinda a pain to get to, honestly.

But it's worth it. Because if Gojo knows anything about that fake... he's probably watching right now. Who wouldn't, when Satoru Gojo was involved?

He steps out, taking time to stretch, let out a deep breath. A wide smile on his face as he stalks forward.

This is going to be fun.

What the fuck was this clown doing on your doorstep?

Satoru squints at the porch camera. Mostly just in annoyance, because he doesn't need to squint - six eyes and all.

Even then, it's hard to believe.

Not that Gojo was jealous and wanted a piece of you, now that he realized that he was missing out. That went without saying.

No, Satoru is shocked that he has the audacity to show up on your doorstep after turning you away. Rejecting you. Like he was drowning in genuine human connections and could afford to toss one out... ugh.

Even thinking about this guy feels gross.

"Go away."

The PA system is talking... in his voice. Which could be the phony, but also, you were probably obsessed with him enough to make a PA system that spoke exclusively in his voice.

Heh. You probably had it talk you through touching yourself, too, at least before the faker came around -

"So you're deaf, but I know you're not blind. DOOR IS CLOSED. GO AWAY."

A frown. "Well, that's not very nice of you."

"Oh, so you can speak? Well, shut up and leave. Loser."

Wait, no. No way this creep is calling him a loser.

"You want me gone that bad, huh?" Gojo slinks up to the doorway carelessly, ready to blast the handle open, "Gosh, must have something you reeeeaaaaally wanna hide, huh?"

"Typical." The PA system complains while he busts the door down, "Self-centered asshole doesn't know when he's not wanted. But that's just another day for you, isn't it?"

He pauses. "Wow. You know a lot about me. I didn't know I had two stalkers on board~"

There's an audible snort. "This is why you have no friends."

"I have tons of friends!" Comes Gojo's protest as he glances around the living room.

"Your students aren't friends, and they don't like you."

"Yuji likes me," Gojo strides quickly down the hallway, glaring with his six eyes for signs of life in the building, cursed energy.

"Yuji likes everyone. You also have no life."

The grin on his face turns sharp, wicked. "I have more of a life than you do. Taking on someone else's identity. Pretty scummy way of getting a girl's heart, don't you think?"

There's a pause - it's good to know he's shocked the phony into silence.

"You..."

Closer, now. He can see it! The cursed energy is concentrated, just inside this room -

And it's -

It's -

Him.

It's him. It's - it's Satoru Gojo, staring right back at him. The six eyes in the mirror. Only it's not a mirror, but a real, living person.

This is where Gojo decides he must be in a dream. Or a domain. Maybe you activated a secret curse technique? And this is a manifestation of your desire for him?

"...even hear me. Hello? HELLO? Stop staring and get the hell out of here. You'll wake her up."

Huh.

It's like he's talking to himself. It's him.

"How are you..." He trails off, tugging down the blindfold as he gesturing to the man across from him, "Your eyes. You have my eyes."

"You have my eyes, actually," Satoru answers without missing a beat, "I was here first."

Of course, he absolutely was not, but Gojo doesn't know that.

Gojo is pretty sure this guy is lying.

"Here first? Like, born first?" He glances down, catching you on the sofa, laying down, head in the other-Satoru's lap. "I got a twin brother I don't know about?"

No way the Gojo clan would be able to shut up and keep a secret like that to themselves. And even if they could, Gojo wouldn't be a little brother. He'd be the older one.

"Sure," Satoru says, in a hushed tone, with marked annoyance, "Now shut up and get out of your big brother's room. She's sleeping."

And you are. But from what he can see inside your brain activity, it's not normal sleep.

"Yeah, sure. Sleeping." His voice lowers. Cools. "Are you that desperate for my leftovers? Leave her alone."

And it is piercing, the glare that hits him. Six eyes going straight through him like an icicle. His own face twisted in an anger he doesn't think he's ever seen -

It's hot. Super hot. And unsettling, and strange, and he is so, so hard right now.

"Why don't you leave her alone?" Satoru hisses as you stir, "You're so jealous you had to come here?"

"Mmm..." Your eyes flick open, and Satoru's attention is immediately ripped off him.

He brushes your hair away from your eyes, leaning in to kiss your temple with a quiet, soothing hum.

Gojo's lips purse. All those videos; this guy fucking you, eating you out, ravishing you like a starving monster, using you like a fleshlight - and none of it had made him feel like this.

Something churns in his stomach. "Answer the question. What did you do to her? What did you tell her?"

"I love you," Satoru says, still staring at your sleepy-eyed face, and Gojo feels his stomach twist.

He stares, frozen in place. Satoru doesn't even look up at him.

"...Sa...toru...?" You mumble weakly, head falling to the side as if just that phrase was too taxing for you.

"Mmm-hmm, it's me!" Satoru smiles, a warm, fond look that goes all the way to his eyes. "I'm right here, love."

Creepy. The way he strokes your hair, holds you, dotes on you like you're some kind of pet. You're barely dressed, but not in anything erotic - just a large T-shirt. Probably one of his.

It's nauseating. Intimate. Domestic.

He's throbbing.

The worst part is, Gojo doesn't know if he's jealous of him - or you.

Because fuck, that smile looks good on his face. Features soft, glowing like a sunset, faint pink dusting his cheeks. Even the six eyes look like an ocean of warmth, affection, dripping down onto you. Those hands are fine, and cupping your face like that makes them appear even larger. Makes you look smaller.

And you're so cute like this. All tiny, curled up underneath him. He'd seen you commanding, cool, demanding, in the throes of pleasure, and unraveling; delicious, every time.

Not like this. Curled up and docile, nuzzling into his touch like a sleepy kitten. Leaning into him like an anchor, seeking out contact as naturally as you breathe. He feels sick with want.

"What did you do to her?" He says. The words sound out of place in this room, unwelcome in this sanctuary, "Drugs? Cursed energy?"

"Eh. Little bit of column A, little bit of column B. What's it to you?" Those eyes gleam quickly up at him, "This is your leftovers, right?"

"Please. She's clearly not over me if she's sending me your little sex tapes." Gojo takes a step closer, pulse soaring in his ears. "And you didn't answer my other question. What did you tell her?"

Satoru glares. "So you are deaf. You were right there when I said it. I love you."

It's so strange. His chest twists, hearing the words in his voice.

...he's never heard those words in his voice, has he?

"Not what I meant," Gojo skips over the issue entirely, "Did she find out that you're not me? Is that why you had to drug her?"

Satoru blinks his big blue eyes.

Silence.

He blinks again.

"You think-" A hand reaches up to Satoru's shirt, tugging, and he's looking down again, "Awh, what is it, sweetie?"

"Would you answer the damn-"

"Shut up!" Satoru snaps, pulling you carefully to sit up on his lap.

You fall against his chest limply, secured by an arm around your waist. Head tucked under his chin.

"You thirsty? Hungry? Wanna cum, baby? Just say the word." Satoru isn't even looking at him.

It's just - it's so annoying. This little shit sitting here like nothing's wrong, like he hasn't stolen Gojo's entire appearance and identity just to get with you.

He's got the fucking six eyes, and he can heal other people with reverse curse technique, and this is what he does? Fusses over you like a mother hen? Like you're the center of his world?

"You're disgusting," Gojo spits, surprised by his own vehemence. "Let her go."

You whimper and Satoru squeezes you.

Gojo watches; in horror, fascination, frozen to his spot as he watches Satoru's arm reach down, rolling up your shirt -

You're not wearing anything under there.

"Mmmhm..." You moan, lashes fluttering. Reaching up to grasp Satoru's muscled arm, weaky, while you writhe.

The sound sends tremors down his back, heat pooling in his gut.

Satoru meets his gaze with a low, knowing smirk. "Don't think she wants me to."

Gojo's feet take him another step closer. He's maybe one step away from you; two, max.

"And for the record, she's completely over you. I thought the videos would be evidence enough of that," Satoru shifts you in his lap, tugging your shirt up enough to bare your breasts, your cunt.

His hands roam your chest - they look so big on you, so wide, grasping, groping playfully over your torso, your breasts, drawing little noises out from you as you squirm fruitlessly in his lap.

His legs keep yours open. Wide.

It's dripping. Right in front of him. He feels like a deer in headlights, pinned in place at the sight of his own longer fingers plunging into your wet -

"But if you needed to see it in person so badly," Satoru drawls, and because he's closer, it's louder, lower, "Knock yourself out."

Those eyes meet him - his eyes - deep blue, intent, full of challenge -

Gojo lunges, driving his lips against Satoru's, shoving him against the sofa. You yelp, pinned between them, before Satoru pulls you closer with a hiss as he pulls away.

"The fuck are you doing?!" He glares - but his cheeks are dusted pink.

You squirm deliciously, and Gojo catches Satoru shifting behind you.

Straddling you, shamelessly, he grinds his bulge right up against you, and you moan, clenching on Satoru's fingers. He brushes Satoru's arm with his dick, too - heh. Let him see what he's packing.

Gojo doesn't tear his eyes away from Satoru's as he closes in on you, kissing at your cheek softly, "Is that true, baby?" He murmurs, sneaking a hand up along your torso to squeeze an exposed breast, "You're over me?"

Satoru's arm - the one that isn't fingering you - shoves at him, but Gojo doesn't budge.

"Come oooooon," He croons, nuzzling into your cheek as he holds his gaze, "You're not afraid of a little healthy competition. Are you?"

Close, closer - until their noses nearly touch. Until Satoru can see his eyes glitter with challenge.

"As if," Satoru rises to the bait, just like he would in his place. "I'm worried you don't know how to touch a woman. Seriously, not sure if you ever have."

He doesn't hesitate. He reaches straight for Satoru's dick - oh, it's long, hard, just as proud and pretty as in all the videos.

Just like his. Twitching as he tightens his grip.

The grunt he makes, face wincing in pleasure-pain; it's a familiar feeling to him, too.

"Awh, worried about little old me?" His smile bares teeth, "You're too kind."

He squeezes, drawing his hand up along Satoru's dick, watching his own handsome reflection tense in what he knows is mounting pleasure, a heady throb in his gut that always surges as he squeezes tighter at the shaft.

"Straight for the dick? Guess that's the only thing straight about you. Or maybe you're just that self-obsessed," Satoru taunts, as if his own dick isn't pulsing at a touch so like his own. "Just keep your hands off her."

And that last demand sends his gut churning. Something in him is enflamed.

He burns for it, for Satoru in front of him, possessive and beautiful, for you, delicate and treasured, for this thing between the two of you that magnetizes Satoru to your side and turns you to putty in his arms.

He wants. He wants he wants he wants and Satoru Gojo is not a man accustomed to being denied.

"Nah," Gojo nuzzles into your neck, sucking, nipping, watching Satoru's eyes linger hatefully on the mark he leaves, "I don't think I will."

After all, he's got to prove him wrong, right?

You're barely conscious most times Satoru wakes you.

It's not bad. At least you don't think it is, with your limited capacity to think.

The feeling is similar to being very sleepy, or very drunk. Half-stuck in a dream, only vaguely aware of your surroundings and what's going on.

But it doesn't matter, because Satoru is a diligent nursemaid. When he wants to be, anyways. When you need him to.

He brings you food, water. Feeds you, helps you sit up and drink. Distantly, you realize everything is probably laced, but it's all properly dosed, you're sure.

Otherwise you wouldn't be able to think this much. In these hazy moments when you can recognize what's happening.

So when you see another Satoru in the room, despite the warm body against your own, the breath on your neck, the arm around your waist - you aren't immediately worried.

Now, though?

Now you're a little bit worried.

"Who..." Your question falls seemingly on deaf ears as Gojo tilts your head to the side, sucking a mark into your neck.

It doesn't hurt, but Satoru's fingers curl tight inside you, his thumb brushing your clit, and you whine.

"Shhh, baby," Satoru murmurs from behind you, into your ear, "You worry too much. Don't worry, just sit back and enjoy."

"Oh, so now she's your pillow princess?" Gojo hums, "Big change from being her little slut locked up in a cock cage."

A scoff, cool against the saliva-slick skin on your neck, "Jealous much? I have someone who wants to make me feel good."

Satoru's fingers slip out of you, and you let out a breath, reaching up with your arms against the chest in front of you.

"Bet she wants to make me feel good, too," Pressing closer to you, "Bet she couldn't even tell the difference."

His chest is large, firm against your hands. The muscles are more defined, larger - even with the same genetics, Satoru doesn't get the exercise Gojo does - but you barely notice.

"Course she can't. She could hardly tell you her own name - not that you deserve to say it." And then a groan, "F-fuck. Let go of my dick already, you creep."

"Why, so you can fuck her?" A snicker, "You act so sweet on her, but you're really just using her to get off, yeah?"

"The fuck would you know about acting sweet? Have you ever told anyone you love them?"

There's a pause, there, where you feel the heat growing restlessly around you. Dazed, heated.

"Satoru...?" You mumble, head tilting to the side, cheek rubbing into the familiar cloud of white hair.

"...See? No difference." Gojo lifts his head, handsome face coming up to meet yours, "I'm just as good as him, right baby?"

His words are lost on you. All you can do is lean in for a kiss, lashes lowered, and feel his lips move against yours.

"Like I said," Arms, tighten around you, "Doesn't mean anything. You couldn't give her what she needed, and now you're nursing your wounded ego because I came around and did it better."

"You think?" All you catch is the sparkle of those crystal blue eyes.

He pulls away, tongue sticking out, lips still slick with saliva threading between your mouths.

Gojo's eyes catch Satoru's. "Bet I can make her cum with my mouth before you can with your dick."

"Sure, give yourself the biggest advantage," Satoru sneers, "Should I give you a ten minute head start, too, so you can find the clit first?"

Gojo slinks backwards, falling to his knees.

From your perspective, all you see is Satoru backing away from you - you whimper, reaching out weakly, voice low and longing.

It feels like a knife to his chest, looking at your face. The naked despair, the raw desire to have him back in your arms -

But it's only a moment before Satoru reassures you, kisses your cheek. Melting into his embrace comes naturally, relaxing as soon as you know your love has not left you.

It's as if you have to be touching him at all times. Like you need him the way you need air. It's cringey, codependent, but Gojo supposes that's the kind of sappy unrealistic stuff you're into.

He puts a hand on either of Satoru's knees, spreading his legs and yours.

"Up you go, baby," Satoru hums as he lifts you, and your feel his cock slip underneath your ass as he pulls you flush against his chest.

He bites his lip as Gojo snatches his cock without hesitation, guiding the head of it to slip past your entrance with a smirk.

"Could do both of you at once," He crows, "Your dick sure wasn't complaining about my touch."

And he knows exactly how to touch - to trace that weeping head with his thumb to get precum pearling at the tip, all mottled red and purple as it throbs in his hand.

"What can I say," Satoru shoots back, "You're obviously an expert. You and your hand must be so happy together."

Gojo fists his hand around his dick with a mean smile, clenching hard as he smirks up at him. Satoru bites his lip and holds you tighter.

"Baby," Satoru whispers, tilting your face to look back at him, "Cum with me, yeah? I'll tell you when, and you just gotta let go then."

"Oh, now you think she's gonna be the trained whore?" Gojo drawls, pressing Satoru's dick against your cunt. Still not inside, but enough to make you moan while Satoru hisses.

"Like you can say that," He grinds out, "You don't know anything about her."

"I saw your little videos," His eyes twinkle from between Satoru's legs; how he hates that face... but fuck if he's gorgeous, "You spoil her. Greedy little thing. She's used to getting whatever she wants from you."

Gojo's face slides up, up your thigh.

"Yeah she is, I do it on purpose. Cause I can." Satoru sticks his tongue out, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Unlike you."

Closing in on your cunt, on his cock, Gojo licks a line up Satoru's dick, enough to make him tense behind you.

"Yeah? You think so?" He suckles briefly at the trickle of cum at the head of Satoru's cock, making eye contact while he does. Unfliching.

And fuck, he looks good sucking dick. Satoru kinda wishes you had one, now... ooooh. Maybe a strap-on? Even more fun.

A slap on your thigh tugs his attention right back to the matter at hand.

"Don't make her wait any longer," Satoru lays a kiss by your temple, and you hum, "Or you can disappoint her with your shitty head game, and then put it in. Up to you, I guess."

"Shitty head game?" Hands guide his dick towards your entrance, as if he'd been waiting for the challenge.

A strangled moan escapes him as he slips into you, rutting his hips up. Open, shameless, because you're just that good. All wet and hot and clenching around him like your cunt can't stand to see him go.

It feels like he just belongs inside you. His hands reflexively trace over your cunt, your clit, where Gojo slaps them away.

"Hey, hey, no sabotage." If nothing else, Gojo does have sharp eyes.

He darts to the crest of your folds, right where Satoru's fingers had traced, opening his mouth over it.

At first he drools, taking in your scent. Those videos - the ones of your pet lookalike eating you out for hours, a hand in his hair like a leash.

Lapping, whining, drooling over you like a trained dog. Just the memory makes his dick throb. Mouth water.

Gojo spreads his mouth wide like he's seen, drawing his tongue over Satoru's plunging cock, up towards the swollen bud that seems to pulse against his teeth.

Careful, boy. Don't bite. The memory sends his hands clenching at your thighs as he devours you.

His mouth is so wet and warm it feels like it's melting over you, candle wax pressing hot into your clit as your walls stretch and stretch.

Dizzying. It's all so much, all heat swirling around you, inside you. Pleasure roils heavy, weighted, dragging you along in the surge of sensation.

He licks at your clit, all soft and perfect and it just swells like water against a dam, cresting to meet the tip of his tongue pressing into you-

"Shh, baby, not yet," Hands on your jaw, large, gentle, turning your head, "Look at me, hm?"

You do, helplessly, with a whimper, bucking into the mouth and the cock that have your insides churning.

Eyes. Pretty, pretty, the bluest eyes. "S-sa- ah - Satoru?" It comes out as a whimper, or maybe a plea, as you stare, enraptured.

He smiles and it's an instant reaction, a flutter in your chest that makes you squeeze around him.

Whatever he wanted to say is lost to a gasp, to the overwhelming embrace of your walls against him.

Satoru groans, and then he feels a wet, burning line trail up his dick as he pulls it out to drive into you again. Fuck, he's close.

"Lost all your endurance already, huh?" Gojo says, casually, mouth right next to Satoru's dick like he's having a fucking conversation with it. "Loser. It hasn't been long and you're about to bust a nut already."

And damn, he might be. There's something enrapturing about seeing his own face flushed and smug and nuzzling up to his cock like a hungry slut.

He clutches you like a living, breathing lifeline, nuzzles into your neck like it can protect him from the nasty whore's mean words.

"Didn't take long, did it? You lost all the patience she painstakingly trained into you as soon as you got the chance to stick it in whenever."

Satoru must have something in common with the dirty, filthy slut he was clone from, because those teasing words has his cock pulsing, heat building as he plunges back into the safe haven of your cunt.

Gojo watches from below, mouth gaping wide open over Satoru's cock as it drives in, out, in, out again. Breath hot over your clit, nudging it with his nose until you whine again.

Your eyes flick away from Satoru - and over to him - the same face.

You reach out a hand to pet his hair. Soft, fluffy; he rubs his head into your touch. Breath hot on where your bodies join.

"Hnnngh," His cock is straining, throbbing against the front of his pants; Gojo pulls away, lips still sticky.

Resting his head on your knee, he looks up at you - both of you - with big, wide eyes. A pout on his lip.

"Come oooon," He holds your leg, "Help a guy out, yeah?"

"You still haven't made her cum yet. Do you really wanna make it harder for yourself?"

His grin bares teeth. "Yup."

Somehow, though, he stares a moment too long into Gojo's eyes, into that flushed and fiendish face looking back up with him with barely contained need and hunger.

Satoru shifts your leg, "Come on, baby, like this-"

And soon he's groaning, his tall, lanky form jerking as your foot presses against the bulge in his pants. Satoru's foot guides yours down, down, where he grinds against it.

Gojo falls back into your joined sexes, moaning, panting, slobbering all over you both.

The original Satoru Gojo sure was a fucking whore. No wonder you were so anxious; this guy had no sense of shame, and probably no loyalty, either.

Your hands are still buried in his hair as he ravages your sex. It's so stimulating; the press of your foot down on his screaming erection, the salt of your slick on his tongue, the delicious friction of Satoru's dick pumping in and out - faster, now.

He widens his mouth to cover where his dick slides into you, sucking at the heated shaft as he purses his lips over your poor, tender bud.

"F-fuck," Your voice is broken in your throat, heart racing, it just feels so good, pleasure surging from your tightly wound core, "S-satoru-"

Satoru feels you clenching and squeezes for dear life, "Come on - you can hold - hold it-"

But the words escape him; as he, too, winces, choking on his own pleasure. Muscled abs clench behind you as he finally thrusts home, burying his face in your neck and biting down.

Liquid heat surges inside you and you wail; you feel yourself clamp down, waves of pleasure rushing in as you milk him.

Fingers dig into Gojo's hair and then the pressure on his dick increases. It's so fucking hard, swollen, pulsing against the force against it until it -

"Hnnngh," The sigh escapes him, ghosting over the burning, slick skin of your cunt and the dick embedded in it.

He mouths over it lazily. Tasting your shared cum as the afterglow bubbles through him.

You're glassy-eyed, panting; Gojo watches the mesmerizing rise and fall of your bared breasts. They're marked red, but he can't tell his handprints from Satoru's.

Fuck, you really are pretty. A vision, really, in this state.

Satoru behind you is no less so, all pink and flushed and lovestruck in the comedown. His eyes haven't left you for the last few minutes, but they dart towards Gojo has he slowly begins to recover. As brilliant and blue as his own.

He could almost get hard again just at the sight. If the stupid body double starts mouthing off again, he may anyways.

"That was totally me, by the way." Eh. Never mind.

When he looks up again, he sees your neck, bruised up where he'd sucked a mark earlier. It's darker, now. Heavier.

"You're crazy," He lays a hand on your thigh, shaking gently, "I was the one who got her off. Here, we'll even ask her."

"Mmm..." You stir, slumping back onto Satoru, whose arms wrap around your chest and tug you flush against him.

"Ignore him, baby," Satoru kisses up the other side of your neck, sucking a hickey or two as he goes, "You don't need that stupid prick."

"Lucky her," Gojo hums, "I'm here anyways. I didn't see you complaining either, when I had my mouth on you."

A kick of his foot - and Satoru discovers the bulge just underneath his foot had softened. When Gojo pulls away, there's a wet stain on the front of his pants. Satoru snorts.

"You seriously just got off to sucking us both off?"

"Like you wouldn't have gotten off to the same thing."

"Yeah, but only cause of her."

Discreetly, Gojo gives your leg another shake. Your straighten, slightly, and look over at him.

"Satoru?" Your voice is clearer, now, recognition lighting up in your eyes.

"A little familiar, but I guess I did have my mouth on your pussy just a couple minutes ago," He smiles that charming smile you love so much.

But the feeling of warmth, of security, the fine muscled form behind you, the soft hair against your cheek and the mouth that sucks and gnaws mindlessly at your neck; it's unmistakably your Satoru.

There's... only one other person it can be.

"Gojo?" You squint, and he laughs.

"Bingo!" He flops down on the couch, laying his head comfortably in your lap.

Satoru groans, half-heartedly shoving him away, but Gojo's already snuggling up to you.

You stare at Gojo silently, unblinking. He catches your gaze, smiling back, winking, even, despite your expression not changing.

"Aren't you... angry with me?" You say, slowly, as the pounding in your head recedes.

Gojo tilts his head to the side. "Why would I be angry? You weren't the one sending the videos?"

"What videos?" You frown, "And no, I mean... you know." You gesture to Satoru. "The clone."

"The videos of you and - the CLONE?!"

[libertasutile]

Finan strides through Dunholm’s courtyard, having been keeping himself occupied since the strife of the last few weeks. On his way to the smith, he catches a glimpse of a woman, and when they meet eyes he recognizes her in some distant way.

Winchester? The Alehouse? … somewhere more brazen like the whorehouse?

He stops in his tracks, taking another gaze at her. He’s sure they haven’t met, but something about her is so familiar. It’s also rather strange to see a Saxon woman striding so naturally through Dunholm’s courtyard.

“Lady,” Finan nods in greeting to her as he closes the distance between them.

“… have we met before?”

@thedarkprinceofulaid

Dunholm was certainly not a place she’d ever thought she’d return to, not after her time in Winchester — such a time was albeit short, but it had changed her life in a multitude of ways. Abandonment, godforsaken Æthelwold, treachery and penance. It had become almost hellish to be there. An escapade north had led to Loidis, yet that was certainly no longer home. Journeying further north to Dunholm, with some refuge taken among seas of faces that were as unfamiliar to her as she was to them.

And yet, still, the haunts of Winchester followed her still. No further north could possibly run away from the devils that seemed to belong to Wessex. Here they were. Well, one of them.

Irish, not of Winchester, alas, still involved with such things and memories she had long since wanted to run from. A name she couldn’t place, but a face that seemed to chill, even if she wasn’t entirely sure how she knew him — she was still certain he was a ghost of the South.

“I hardly think so, Lord. You must surely have me confused with another face.” Ethna lied, voice wavering ever so slightly, with a squint in the sunlight seeming to give away some of the truth.

@thedarkprinceofulaid

[ginumo]

I. i dont even know what to caption this man this GAME

Part 1 (ACT 2)

[vaguely-concerned]

I've been picking mostly only the essential flirt options with lucanis in the romance so far (I've personally found the dynamic much more natural and mutual when you do that, more like forming a solid friendship slowly and inevitably becoming something else and less like you keep pushing on him and getting little back b/c he seemingly just gets overwhelmed and goes into freeze instead), and I think rye is a pretty hard person to read at the best of times even though he's been Down Real Bad from pretty early on and their chemistry as people is naturally really good. so the way the almost-kiss plays out in this playthrough feels a lot like it has the added layer of lucanis realizing that no but for sure rook is flirting and not just being kind or a good friend* it IS actually happening it's not just wishful/fearful thinking!!! and then uh. maybe going a bit too hard a bit too fast in all the excitement at that revelation haha

*in lucanis' defense he has seemingly literally never had a friend who wasn't his cousin-brother before, under those circumstances I suppose some confusion is extremely natural if not outright expected lmao

[syluses]

separation anxiety

⤷ caleb experiences a rut after a long time, and it just so happens that you’re in his path.

cw. 18+ smut, hybrid! caleb, knotting, dubcon if you squint, breeding, obsessive/possessive behavior, perv caleb, fem human! reader, ruts, size difference, also a lil breeding, 3.5k words because i physically struggle to write smut without a preamble, reader is ovulating and it triggers his rut this time for whatever reason

an. saw this trope going around & wanted to try it <33 he’s got that DAWG in him 💪 also i cant decide if hybrid caleb gives german shepherd vibes or samoyed vibes��. that moments post lives rent free in my mind tho idk (>_<)

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔, & 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅! (๑´ `๑)♡

Caleb would say he hates you for the time you’re gone, but it’d be a big fat lie. His love for you, big and bursting in his chest, deepens in the quiet windows where you’re present at work or running errands throughout Linkon before returning home to him.

There’s a permanence of you in his mind and being. He wants it no other way.

His devotion for you doesn’t necessarily drown him- no, you’re always there with a lifering waiting- but it certainly sweeps him up and threatens to.

He gets a bit ahead of himself sometimes, he’s aware of that; energetic, bulging at the seams with vigor; whether it’s an integral part of his personality or just a consequence of his breed, the pound he came from never quite knew. Your Gran never figured that out, either, and for as sweet and trying as she was, she soon realized she couldn’t foster him for long.

Because he was a big boy, hungry for attention and wired to please, well-meaning but oft over involved with personal space— and he brought a loaded package that your Gran just couldn’t sign her name off on, not after a few months, anyway. She tried her best before nudging him into your care, because she sure as hell wasn’t about to give him up to that squalid pound or the streets again- and besides, the mutt liked her granddaughter; all those visits she paid throughout the summer obviously endeared Caleb to her, and quickly.

You admit, it’s a mite difficult to juggle between long days at work, little tasks that drag you from point to point throughout Linkon, and your own personal life on top of caring for a hybrid stowed away in your shoebox apartment— but your grandmother was all but sapped of her energy then, turning to you for aid although she seldom ever did, and you’d always lend a hand where you could.

The mutt- Caleb, is his name (and you call it fondly even as he’s pawing at your thighs for attention or drooling on your collar)- has grown on you considerably in the past half year, anyway.

You won’t let him down or leave him at the curb. He’s yours. The red collar you bought him says as much, printed with your number on a silver plate, and he wears it not because you make him but because he’s proud of it.

He’s a good boy, he is. He always has been and for that you’re thankful.

Except, this week he’s… different.

As of a few days ago, it’s like he’s been testing the waters- and your patience- on just how far he can go before you tell him off or say bad dog. He must find them warm because he’s just been diving deeper as the week progresses.

You don’t know what to do. He’s oddly aggressive. It’s not rare at all for him to follow you all around your apartment, but he’s foregone the very last shred of respect for your personal space and nips when you try to push him away. Not hard enough to actually hurt- the yip you make is more surprised than anything when he pulls you back in and licks at the small red patch- but you look wounded at it.

Because Caleb doesn’t bite— he just doesn’t.

He wraps you up in seemingly endless embraces and breathes your smell in until he’s dizzy, laughing into your neck like a giddy child. He does this every time you try to leave for work and he’s made you late for it.

Maybe it’s just because you’re ovulating and a little hormonal, but it makes you quite sour and the mood stays even when you return in the afternoon. He’s never liked when you’re gone, sure, but he’s always been there to see you off at the door with a pout as you scratch behind his ear- more or less tame about it.

Your patience really frays at the odd uptick in his possessiveness, though. It’s hurtful.

You’ve always treated him less like a pet- a hybrid- and more like a friend, and you feel quite indignant for it when he growls and tells you that he hates the smell of other men on you, hearing none of your excuses that it’s ‘just coworkers’, glaring at you like some brainless extension of him. You feel less like a person and more like an object, a streetlamp in which he emerges from the shadows for just to piss on to show it belongs to him.

He’s touchy. Snippy. Glued to your side at all times. It’s concerning and frustrating and confusing all at once.

By the fifth day mark, on Friday night, you’re tuckered out by it and don’t question where he is when you return home early from a shift and he’s, uncharacteristically, not there to greet you.

A red collar however, laid on the floor, its tag glittering under dim hallways lights, strikes you as both curious and unsettling.

He never takes that off. No- says it’s his way of showing you and the whole world that he belongs to you, and— have you been too impatient with him lately? Brusque? Maybe you’re a little hormonal but it’s no cause to get short with him, even when he’s acting up, and what if he no longer wants you as his owner—

A gasp.

You find him in your bedroom, humping your pillow, yowling as he comes undone- unawares- and the walls spin as you nearly faint.

You drop your purse. “Caleb!” You shriek, and a visible shiver rolls down his spine as he turns around.

“Bad dog!”

✦

You sleep on it.

Well, you wash your sheet and your pillowcases- and then you sleep on it.

Maybe you overreacted. If anything, you should be grateful for what you walked in on because otherwise, he wouldn’t have known how to tell you he’s been going through a bit of a hot phase- the first of his you’ve experienced- and doesn’t know how to control himself.

You blush just thinking about it, shame knocking in your chest as your heart beats heavy. You feel awful for walking in on him for a number of reasons. One of them being he came all over your bed- and his tummy- and you had to clean both up through furious tears as you peeled your covers off the mattress and pointed him off in the direction of the bathroom, telling him to run the faucet and quick.

A pass of guilt, the fear of you being angry with him, made its round across his kicked expression but he held off on arguing.

For the first documented time in the whole week, Caleb appeared mellow- not agitated, restless, or tense- and rather crestfallen, and you noted it only vaguely as you irately turned on the washer.

Now, it’s in the forefront of your brain.

Well, if he’s been going through some kind of rut lately, it only makes sense he’d be all kinds of pent up, and that his release (albeit in an inconvenient way and place) would provide some relief.

It’s closer to noon when you finally exit your bedroom and meet him at the sofa- the same one you’d all but banished him to last night. He prefers to spend his nights with you, either curled up at your side or splaying his full weight over your back- a breed-relative habit, you’re sure. You’ve heard of some other kinds who enjoy a room to themselves or do just fine with the couch, on their lonesome— But not Caleb.

He looks tired but perks up when he hears you patter down the hall, violet eyes lighting when you timidly take a seat.

With a bit of hesitation, he inches closer until you sheepishly wave a hand and he barrels into your arms.

“Ah- Caleb-“

Before you can even apologize for your jumping the gun last night, he beats you to the punch. “M’ sorry. You don’t hate me for it, do you?” He sighs into your collar and you shiver, “I wish you could understand what it feels like- I wouldn’t have done it if it was somethin’ I could control, I hope you realize that.”

You swallow, digesting his words as you belatedly place a hand on his head to pet. He positively melts. “Y-Yeah,” you mumble back. “It’s okay. I actually wanted to say sorry too. I- I didn’t understand what was going on…”

A deep groan looses from his throat, his chest swelling with content as you itch that spot behind the furry ears say upright on his head. They give a few twitches as he leans against you and wraps his muscular arms around your middle, resting his chin by your shoulder.

“It’s my fault, though, not yours. I didn’t know how to tell you- I was worried you’d just end up scared’a me, or…”

His pause instills interest in you. Your fingers smooth back his brown locks, mussed from fitful sleep, and he sighs. “Or what?” You press softly.

You pull him back just enough to get a look at him, his cheekbones almost shiny with a dusting of pink. His thick brows furrow together.

“Or that you’d leave,” he whispers.

Your eyes widen. You lasso your arms around his neck and pull him to you, your head slotting above his shoulder as his fingers quickly move to support the position, one hand perched at your thigh and the other braced at your side.

“Nonsense,” you grumble at his ear, a bit angry at the suggestion. “I’d never leave you.”

Something hard, then, prods at your middle- too fleshy to be something in either of your pockets- and you stiffen at the realization as it comes a beat too late.

Caleb’s voice is breathy at your ear, low, his tail thumping on the cushion. “Yeah?” He murmurs, a pang of heat stirring in your belly at the sound. Suddenly aware, you gently go to push at his broad chest but he stops you with an imploring look- although the desire, brewing in dilated pupils, isn’t lost on you- and musters a pout.

It looks out of place, the wholesome gaze marred by hunger as it reshapes his puppyish look.

“Even when I am no better than a bad dog?”

Your brow quirks, “I didn’t mean it,” you whisper, wide-eyed as his eyes bore into yours. Every micro expression you make is being catalogued and noted with utmost care, his pink tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips as they grow dry.

“It’s okay if you did,” he murmurs back. “I’m just glad I have you around to remind me of my place…” Long, slim fingers reach up and you watch, unseeingly, as they stroke your cheek, his other hand creeping dangerously close to the waistband of your sleep shorts.

He chuckles, but the humor wanes quickly.

“Otherwise, I’d always be misbehaving. Do you even know what you do to me?” His voice is meaningful, torrid, as he draws in and the tip of his nose brushes with yours. You can’t find it in you to move as your thighs- the ones he slithers a singleminded hand in between- begin to roil with unexpected warmth.

You plant a hand to his chest, shying away, “C-Caleb-“

“Don’t worry,” he says sweetly, “M’ not gonna hurt you. I just….” He lets out a sigh, long and perhaps just a bit exaggerated- but it has the intended effect on you. You purse your lips and feel a trace of guilt twist in your heart.

“You drive me crazy. Y-Your smell- I don’t know why this is happening, either. Honestly? I haven’t had a rut in a couple years. But this…”

Caleb lets out a soft noise of pleasure, lending his full weight to you when he breathes you in and shakes.

When he speaks next, his words come out raspy and so low you hardly register them as his breaths grow labored- they’re all you can hear as the living room space shrinks down to just him and the knuckles that dare to dip into your panties.

“This is just too unfair. You won’t leave me hangin’, pretty,… w-will you?” Breathy. With an undeniable streak of need. You can’t miss the lust that usurps the softer parts of him and makes him look less puppyish and cheerful and more wolfish, calculating.

And, well, when he puts it like that, how could you?

✦

He doesn’t fuck you on the couch. He takes you to your bed and fucks you there like a lover would.

He fucks you deep and fast- to his credit, he doesn’t hurt you, staying true to his word, but the possibility of bruises becomes a nearer thing when he folds your legs back and his grasp becomes constricting, plunging in and out of your cunt with rapt focus. Indigo eyes glow with something feral, like you’ve given him no choice but to claim his ownership over you through sloppy kisses and clinking teeth as he pounds into you, driven him into a corner- but his touch turns worshipful when he presses his forehead to yours and moans.

“Ah- y-you feel so good, so tight,” he compliments, words almost slurred. His pupils expand and he looks no different than a drunken, babbling man, his cheeks a rosy red.

His murmurs are wet against your lips as they graze and mush with his, Caleb’s face so close to yours that his lashes tickle your brow as he gawks at you, so entranced by whatever it is he’s seeing to look away.

A fluffy tail sways unevenly behind him and touches your leg on occasion, almost like it’s trying to curl around you, prickling and eager. Every part of him gravitates to you. You’re the ground beneath his feet. Fertile land.

“And you’re all mine, okay? Nobody else’s. I want you to wear my scent- to carry me with you no matter where you go. You have to promise me you will- mmph- That sound good-?

“C-Caleb—“

You groan when he stuffs himself deeper inside and you swear you feel his length throb inside your walls, stretching. The veins running along his shaft carve out a new pathway in you, one special and just for him, as his balls- heavy and fat, with a hell of a lot to give- slap against your ass. Slick oozes out from the squelching seam of you, coating his thick cock but you still struggle to accomodate his size despite the lubrication.

He’s made to make you feel as if you’re losing your mind. You snatch your jaw with your own hand to keep the flurry of high-pitched sounds from spilling out lest they embarrass you, but he shoos it away and cuffs your wrists with a hand splayed over them.

“Nah- I wanna hear you, baby. You can’t keep holdin’ out on me like this... I’m giving you my all right now, so it should be pretty obvious that you can do the same, yeah?”

A mewl punches out from your lungs half a second later and he seems quite contented at that. He sighs, closing his eyes, saying,

“I’ve been good all along. Can’t you play the part, too? I just want you to see how much I really love you,” his confession is by no means considered casual what with the passion in which its conveyed, but you can’t help but feel it’s a little sudden, said a little too quickly, and you wonder if he means what he says or if the rut is responsible for all these novel, amorous feelings in him.

I mean, he’s probably too wrapped up in the moment to even contemplate his own admissions as they all spew out—

“Caleb, too big—“ you gasp, cutting him off, and he lets out a strangled kind of noise when your walls clamp around him.

Holyfuck holyfuck holyfuck do it again, he wants to say, suffocate me, but nothing comes out and he realizes after a long second that his vision has whited completely. He can’t see anything; he’s in a fuzzy, dazzling world with the blinders on and all he can smell and feel is you- your scent, sugar sweet and about as inviting as a barstool pulled out, envelopes him and he can’t breathe. Can’t speak.

He fucks into you with reckless abandon, huffs you in like it’s his final breaths, and then lets it all go without care for anything else. Far as he’s concerned, everything he knows is defined by you. This is a give and take relationship: he actually gives a damn about your opinion of him and takes all you have to offer.

He’s in love, puppyish and clumsy but fuck you lead the way and lead him on.

“Shh, I know,” he rasps out, steaming up your neck like a fogged window pane as he insinuates himself there. Your whole body feels like a furnace, burning up for him as he opens you up and tucks himself inside.

“I know it’s big, but you gotta be ready for-“ he clips his sentence short, thinking better of it.

He wants to warn you of his impending knot- the one that’ll no doubt leave you yelping and writhing away from him- you certainly deserve as much of a foreword to it, but part of him is just so terrified you’ll reject him or deny him the priviledge of shoving it inside you and fuck he can’t have that.

Caleb’s nothing if not loyal. He’s also nothing if not selfish. That’s always been a wriggling bug he’s tried to stomp out but it remains in the baser part of him, only amplified by the intense rut that came right out of the blue.

He wants you singing his name and bonded to him (or as much of a bond the two of you can form), and so that’s what he’ll get.

He’ll apologize later, and you will forgive him. So all’s fine.

“Y-You can take it,” is the simpler thing he settles on, and you let it pass, because between the fat cockhead splitting you apart deliciously and the sweet, somewhat perturbing nothings he gushes at your ear, you’re deaf to most of everything.

But when you come- unexpected and sharp, overwhelming your senses as your hips ruck up and he has to pin you down in place and ride it out with you as you cream around him- the scream you let out rings in your ears and so does his ferocious grunt. It’s loud and you’re so numb as seconds pass that feel like eons; pointed teeth teasing at the squishy chunk of your shoulder, invoking a buried sense of alarm.

And then he’s biting down hard- not just nipping- the pleasure thankfully driving off the pain as he ploughs inside, muffling a string of curses as he picks up his pace. Caleb gets sloppier and sloppier and then he’s burning white-hot inside you and moaning like a pornstar, pelvis juddering as he comes.

“Mmh- f-fuck- Good girl!” he rewards with half a brain, fucked out into perfect oblivion, and for a second you wonder why his voice sounds more meant for comfort than praise- until you expect him to pull out but he doesn’t, something big and round forming at the base of his cock that has his eyes fluttering back as it pops in. He goes boneless on top of you as every limb of yours stiffens and coils around his broad back.

You scream his name. He shivers.

It feels enough to shatter your mind- the pain searing you, but the ghost of pleasure that creeps up along your nervous system makes you go like jelly beneath him, helpless to whatever he’s got planned for you.

“C-Caleb, you-!”

“Yeah, a bad dog, a bad dog,” he stammers, whimpering at your earlobe, “I know, baby, I know. Just- don’t shut me out, okay? I- It’ll be over soon, just- ah- loosen up around it, okay? It’ll feel so much better that way. Just… hold on to me.”

“I-It hurts-!”

“Ngh, shhh…” He trembles out, shifting to sample a broken mewl from your lips, cupping your jaw with all the love in the world and staring at you as if you told the sun to rise this morning. “Be a good girl and take it, mm? Your pussy’s squeezing me so tight, I think she wants it too, but she has to relax a little first, yeah? Mm… I could give you a whole litter of pups. Give your Gran a bunch of cute lil granbabies to drive her crazy.”

You choke on your own spit, the brunet letting out a near delirious chuckle at the idea and your reaction to it before his brow gives a wince, your walls instinctively trying to push his swollen knot out.

“Wha- Caleb, is that even-?”

“I don’t know,” he kisses your forehead tenderly, his tail giving a heavy, excited thump behind him on the bed as you grab the sheets for dear life and they wrinkle, pinched like your conflicted expression.

“But I’ve been dyin’ to try it out for myself.”

[em1i2a3]

When The Sun Hits

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

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 16,150

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

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

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

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

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

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

”Not bad,” She huffed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”What window?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

——————

Four nights ago was movie night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then there was you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was shielding himself.

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

The realization made you heat up, but also smirk.

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

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

You waited exactly thirty seconds, which was long enough for the heat in your limbs to settle so when you stood up you didn’t have shaky legs, or draw attention to any of your actions, even though nobody was really paying attention in general.

Yelena was half-sleep, eyes barely open while she nursed what was left of her electrolytes. Walker had his head tilted back, and was snoring loudly. Bucky was sprawled out in the beanbag chair, and Alexei was still rambling, only now it was about how Ivan Drago’s story in Rocky is just misunderstood. So you took the opportunity to stand, and let out an exaggerated yawn, rubbing your eyes for added effect.

”Think I’m also going to head to bed too. I’m exhausted.” You murmured, which earned a small wave from Yelena, a grunt of acknowledgment from Bucky, and a pause from Alexei.

”Did you not like the movie?” He asked, and you smirked.

”Yes of course I liked it, I’ve just seen it a few too many times, but tomorrow you can give me the footnotes on how misunderstood Drago’s story is, for now though I’m off to bed.” He gave you a wide smile, and as you moved away from the living room you could hear him mumble something about you actually being interested in what he had to say.

You quickly made your way down the hall, feeling your heart racing as you made your way towards the room. You tried your best to not make yourself look suspicious but the anticipation was eating you up on the inside.

The second you entered your shared quarters and closed the door behind you, you felt it–that shift in the air, like the moment right before lightning strikes a tree, the static that ebbs and flows through the atmosphere, like a warning to those who are around. The only light that glowed in the space was the desk lamp, which casted golden shapes across the walls, and once you locked the door and turned around, your eyes fell on him.

Bob stood by his bed, the blanket was long discarded, and his sweater was removed, leaving him in a plain white t-shirt. His hands were fidgeting uselessly with the tie of his sleep pants, and when his eyes fell on you it was like he lost all the thoughts that were running through his head. The flush of pink on his cheeks hadn’t faded, if anything it had gotten worse between the time he left the couch and now, like the warmth had fully rooted inside him.

He didn’t say anything right away, he just opened his arms slightly, silently offering himself to you.

In a few quick steps, you crossed the room, taking up the space between his arms, pressing your hands gently to his chest, feeling the way his heart galloped beneath your palm. He cupped your elbows first, tentative and shy, looking down at you with those shimmering blue eyes that you had come to fawn over in secret, before letting his hands slide down to your wrists. You gave him a soft smile, tilting your head back a bit so he could lean forward to kiss you.

His mouth brushed yours once–tentative and silent, like he was asking a question–then again, with more confidence when you didn’t pull away, before fully pressing his mouth to yours. He kissed you like he thought he would never get the chance to do it again. Like he was memorizing the shape of your lips, or the way you sighed into him like you’d been holding your breath for hours while waiting for this moment to come. His hands left your wrists, you slid up to your jaw, the tips of his thumbs barely grazing the corners of your mouth

And you melted into him.

You’d been doing this dance for the past few nights now–experiencing these careful, burning moments together that never quite tipped over the edge–and neither of you seemed to mind. You didn’t need the act of sex to feel intimate with him, even though you still had those thoughts that raced through you from time to time.

Every night you got to learn something new about him–how his breathing changed when you kissed his throat, how the muscles in his stomach twitched when you trailed your fingers ever so slowly under the hem of his shirt, and how he arched subtly into your touch like he was too afraid to vocalize that he wanted more.

It was explorative, patient, and gentle, and that’s all the both of you needed to have a good time.

The kiss continued to deepen, as his lips parted for you, letting your tongue through the threshold. He tasted like fresh breath mints, like he had swallowed a few before you came into the room, which wasn’t an out of place thought at all–he typically did small things like that.

His hands skimmed down your neck, and over your shoulders, travelling down to your hips to anchor himself against you. He put a little more pressure into the kiss, feeling your body press flush into his, causing a small gasp to escape and vibrate against your lips from him. He pulled back for a moment, as your arms slid around his neck, guiding him down even more so he could bury his face briefly into your shoulder. He breathed in deeply, letting his lungs fill with the various scents that radiated off of you– the vanilla from your shampoo, the lavender from your perfume, and the sage that constantly stayed on all of your clothes in general–before exhaling shakily, tugging you closer to him.

He guided you backward with a quiet sort of urgency.

”Come here,” He whispered, the words came out so softly it barely made it past his lips.

He led you to his bed, with his hand pressed low at your back, fingers splayed out like it was steadying the both of you. When the backs of your legs met the edge of the mattress you let yourself sit, eyes still locked on his. He was still watching you closely, like you were ethereal, something that shouldn’t exist for him.

You bit your bottom lip, feeling how swollen it was just from the one kiss that you got, and brought your fingers to the hem of your shirt, slipping them under. Bob felt his chest heave for a moment, the beating of his heart only becoming more frantic, as he hung on your movements like it was a sacred text.

You peeled the top off slowly, revealing the curve of your waist, your chest, your shoulders in small increments–it was more than he’d ever seen at once from you. Once you riddled yourself of the article of clothing you threw it to the side, which left you in just a plain white, cotton bra.

Bob’s gaze swept over you modestly, almost like he was too shy to linger on one part of you for too long, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. You saw the way he struggled to swallow for a moment, gulping loudly from the way his throat closed from all the tension that was building up in the room, then you saw his hands move down to the hem of his own shirt.

He awkwardly shimmied out of the fabric, tugging it over his head, messing up his light brown mane of hair in the proces. You could feel your chest tighten, and your mouth dry up, seeing the expanse of skin that was exposed to you.

It was the first time he’d allow you to see him like this.

And god–he was beautiful.

His chest was broad and lean. He was dusted with freckles that went across his shoulders and collarbones, like they were constellations begging to be traced. There were a few scars too–old and pale, stretched and softened with time, because they certainly weren’t fresh. You wondered about each of them. Not necessarily the stories, but how they shaped him as the person you were falling for more and more every day.

He was flushed from neck to navel, the pink hue blossoming over his ribs and all the way up to his ears. His arms hung at his sides for a moment, allowing you to drink in the image, even though he was visibly curling in on himself a bit. You reached out for him, beckoning for him to come closer to you, watching as he sheepishly moved into your space now. Your fingers skimmed gently over his ribs, dragging slowly up the plane of his stomach and across the center of his chest. You looked up at him with a smile plastered on your lips

“You’re breathtaking Bob…” You whispered, seeing the way his eyes softened, hearing the sincerity that laced your voice when the compliment fell from you. He felt lightheaded from it, as you leaned in to kiss the skin just above his navel, your smile shadowing against the flesh.

“I think I’m gonna die.” He responded, choking on his own breaths.

”Now, now…Don’t die yet…You haven’t kissed me again.” That is what unraveled him, seeing you pull away from his stomach, looking up at him with those lust filled eyes that he had seen night after night.

He leaned down slowly this time, and when your lips met, it was warmer than before, like a supernova had exploded between the both of you. It started soft, like the last one, but it built. His mouth moved over yours with a kind of reverence that made your toes curl into the carpet beneath you. His hands skimmed down your sides, thumbs brushing along the soft slope of your waist as he kissed you deeper.

Then one hand drifted lower, tracing over your outer thigh. He paused just for a second to look at you, and when you gave the smallest nod, he gently urged you backward.

You let him guide you down until you back pressed into the mattress as he hovered above you, bracing himself on one elbow beside your head while the other stayed on your thigh, as you bracketed his hips with your legs. You could feel how hard he was trying to rein himself in, watching his shoulders tense when you brought him closer to you.

”A-Are you sure this is okay?” He whispered against your lips, his breath mingling with yours in the thin space between you.

”Bob,” You murmured, tracing your fingers along the freckles on his collarbone, “If I wasn’t sure, I would tell you.” His eyes fluttered shut for a beat, the words sinking into him like a weighted blanket, before he leaned forward to kiss you again, savouring the contact.

You felt the way he trembled just slightly above you, the way he braced so carefully against his arm, like he was scared of putting too much weight on you, or doing something wrong. His lips dragged over yours, warm and open, letting you taste the cool mint again as his tongue flicked out to meet yours when you deepened the kiss.

His breath stuttered as he exhaled sharply through his nose, attempting to keep up, but you could feel how overwhelmed he was already. Your hands slid over his back, fingers tracing along the soft lines of his muscles beneath skin that practically burned beneath your touch. You felt every ripple, every twitch of control that he tried to maintain, and the thought of it–of him holding himself back for you–made you want to pull him even closer.

He groaned softly against your mouth, almost like it was bordering on a whimper.

“Jesus…You feel so good,” He whispered suddenly, like he couldn’t keep it in, like it was something he had been wanting to say all week and it finally burst free. His voice cracked slightly with the confession, and his cheeks burned as he buried his face against your jaw to hide the heat crawling up his neck, realizing how stupid it must’ve sounded.

”S-Sorry, I just…I just-“ You hushed him for a moment, slipping your hand up his back slowly before curling your fingers into his hair.

”Bob…Don’t apologize. You feel good against me too.” You had barely let the words settle between the both of you, when you hooked your legs a little tighter around his waist and gently guided his hips closer to yours.

Bob’s breath caught in his throat.

His jaw slackening and his lips parting in tandem with one another, as his eyes locked onto yours like he was trying to decipher something written across your irises. You could see it in his face–the unraveling, the awe, the absolute vulnerability of someone who wasn’t used to being wanted like this. And yet, he was burning from the inside out.

“What…What are you doing?” He asked, his voice thin and shaky.

Instead of answering, you ground your hips up against him in one slow, aching press.

The noise he made was soft and strangled, caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan. His eyes fluttered shut for half a second, then snapped open again, and you were able to see the dazed glassiness that shimmered over them. You could see the way the new sensation tore through him, as a full-body tremor made his shoulders tense and his thighs flinch.

He didn’t move at first–he couldn’t. But when you tugged gently on the back of his hair and pressed your lips to his neck, he let go.

His hips rocked forward, not with force but with aching, desperate need, mirroring the movement you’d given him. Your bodies slotted together in a slow, tender rhythm, each motion sending a wave of heat in your abdomen. It wasn’t frenzied or rough—it was exploratory, intoxicating, and so deeply charged you felt like your bones were shaking.

You kissed your way up his neck, feeling his pulse jump under your lips. His hand was trembling against your thigh, while the other one gripped the duvet beside your head. You felt the shudder in his breath again, and the way his hips pressed a little harder this time, a little more urgently. You could feel the outline of him pushing against the thin fabric of your cotton shorts, and it left you breathless, just the thought of being so close almost made your heart stop.

The moment swelled around you–timeless, heavy, and sacred.

Then your fingers trailed down, slow as molasses, brushing over his abdomen and dipping lower, finding the waistband of his sleep pants.

The reaction was instantaneous.

His entire body went rigid, and his eyes snapped open, bright and wide—and in that split second, you saw it. That flicker of gold in his irises. It glinted like sunlit honey, like lightning flashing beneath the surface of a lake.

Then–CRACK.

A sharp, unnatural noise split into the room, and both your heads jerked toward the window, seeing the fracture that had webbed across the glass. It kind of looked similar to when a rock hits a windshield at full speed, only there was a larger impact point. You both blinked at the damage, before your eyes returned to his, seeing that the gold was gone, and he was back to his normal shimmering blue irises that you were enamoured by.

His mouth moved to speak, but no sound came out, then he looked down at himself, and froze. You followed his gaze, seeing a wet spot blooming across the front of his pants.

Then everything happened all at once.

He scrambled off of you, nearly toppling sideways off the bed in the process, and you sat up immediately, reaching for him.

”Bob…Hey…” You said, trying to get him to calm down a bit, but he was already moving.

”Crap…I’m-I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked, as he grabbed his shirt off the floor, pulling it on with frantic hands like he needed to shield himself from you, from the world, from his own embarrassment that floated up into his chest, causing him to shake a bit. He tried to cover up the wet patch as his skin turned a cherry red, spreading all the way over his face and neck. He opened his drawer so fast that it nearly flew off the track as he collected the first pair of boxers and sleep pants that he could find.

“Bob, it’s alright.” You murmured, watching him rush towards the door,

”I-I just…I need…I just need a second.” He whispered before bolting out the door so he could tend to himself in the privacy of the bathroom.

You sat on his bed, still breathless from the closeness, from the way his body had moved against yours, and from the crack in the damn window. But mostly, from the way he looked when he realized what had happened—like the sky had fallen on him. Your heart was aching in the way he reacted, and now that you were sitting alone everything felt amplified.

Your eyes drifted to the window again, staring at the crack that shimmered faintly beneath the golden wash of the lamp–splintering like lightning. Curiosity pulled you from the bed, as you shuffled closer to it, wanting to get a better look.

The fracture was intricate, jagged at the center with spider web veins splitting outward like a slow explosion. You reached up, hovering your hand in front of it.

No air came through, no whistling of wind, and no change in temperature.

You furrowed your brow and pressed your palm against the surface, feeling the cool solidity of the glass. It didn’t flex, nor did it crack even more with the pressure you placed on it, which made you even more perplexed.

You stepped back slightly, squinting at the window. It definitely wasn’t a regular one, it was industrial, reinforced, maybe even bulletproof. The thought made your lips part a little, as you tried to reconcile the softness of Bob–the sweet, awkward, blushing man who mouthed please hurry to you because he wanted to be so close–with the person who had just cracked fortified glass because he was so overwhelmed by your touch.

You huffed out a breath that was caught between awe and amusement, as you continued to stare at the jagged impact, until you saw movement in the glass, noticing Bob trying to sneak in, like you wouldn’t see him. You turned on your heels.

He stood against the door, fiddling with the hem of his shirt as you looked him over. He had changed into navy blue sleep pants, and his hair was clinging to his forehead–you assumed it was from him splashing water on his face to freshen up. He was holding onto a bundle of clothes–the ones he had changed out of–as his eyes scanned over you before dating away. You glanced down at yourself, suddenly remembering that you were shirtless, standing in your bra still.

His face flushed again, but this time it was threaded with much more than just embarrassment. There was remorse in there, maybe even a little bit of fear, like he was worried that you wouldn’t look at him the same because of what happened.

“I…” He started, voice hoarse, “…I’m sorry. Again. I didn’t mean to just…Leave like that, I just–” He swallowed hard, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t want you to see me like that. Or, I mean–you did, I guess, but–God.” He laughed breathlessly, eyes squeezed shut for a second. “I’m making this worse.” You shook your head gently, cutting him off before he spiraled any further.

“It’s okay Bob…Trust me you don’t have to apologize.” You said quietly, stretched out a hand towards him, “Now, come over here please.” Bob glanced down at the gesture, returning his gaze back up at you, hesitating for only a second before stepping forward, dropping the bundle of clothes on the floor. His movements were so timid, like a wounded animal coming over to look at the mess it made.

When he was close enough you leaned forward and wrapped your hand around his wrist. His eyes were wide and glistening as you tugged him toward you even more, his lashes trembling with the weight of remorse. Not just for bolting from the room or leaving you half-dressed and flushed on his bed, but for losing control…For being too much.

“I see those cogs turning in your head. Your brows are furrowing. Stop thinking for a second, and just look at me Bob.” You said, breaking through the thoughts that kept racing through his head, wrapping your arms around his waist. Bob let out a soft sigh, bringing his gaze down to yours. His hands hovered over your back for a moment before slowly coming to rest against your skin, holding onto you like he was afraid you were going to crack.

“…I truly didn’t mean to do that…” He murmured, motioning to the window, “I didn’t even think about it...It just happened.” You turned slightly in his arms, glancing back at the window for a split second, then returning your gaze back to him. You tilted your head up, brushing your lips softly against the underside of his jaw, feeling the beginnings of stubble.

”Pretty sure it’s bulletproof glass too, by the way.” He blinked down at you, his cheeks flushing a deeper red, confused at the statement, and at the way you were smirking up at him, “I must’ve really gotten you going.” You added, trying to lighten the mood. A groan caught in his throat.

”Please…Don’t say that.” He whispered under his breath.

”Why not? It’s kind of hot.” Bob’s eyebrows raised at your comment, letting out a quiet laugh–embarrassed, and flustered, but undeniably touched by the way you were trying to make light of the situation.

”You know…I think you should actually be a little freaked out by this at least,” He stated gently, pulling back just a little bit so the both of you could comfortably look at each other, “I mean…We didn’t even…Do anything and I…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, as he ran his hands along your back, “I’m just saying if I lost that much control just f-from grinding against you, what’s going to happen when we have sex?” He added, his voice laced with worry. You traced your fingers along his spine as you listened, feeling his chest rising and falling against you, the panic simmering underneath all the tension in his muscles. You leaned into him a bit more.

”Well…You don’t really use your powers all that much, Bob.” He raised his eyebrows at you, surprised by what you were possibly suggesting. You continued, gently brushing your thumbs along the hem of his shirt.

“Maybe that’s part of the problem. You’ve been bottling all that energy up without giving yourself a way to release it. Maybe you need to exhaust your powers a little–practice, push yourself in a safe space so you can figure out where the edges are. Then maybe…” You paused mid-sentence, reaching up to him to push his hair off his forehead, “You won’t have to worry about breaking any more windows.” He bit the inside of his cheek, feeling your fingertips trailing down the side of his face to hold his jaw.

“Or…” You added thoughtfully, “We could try some small exercises together. I know there are grounding techniques for people with telekinesis or energy-based mutations–things to help hone it and redirect it before it builds up too much.”

Bob was staring at you now like you were the only stable piece of land in a world that kept shaking under his feet. You ran your thumb along the slight roughness of his jaw, taking in the warmth of his skin.

“Either way,” You said, “We can figure it out together.”

His breath caught in his throat.

“Together,” He repeated, almost like he was testing the weight of the suggestion in his mouth, making sure it was real. His hands gripped you just a little tighter, like he didn’t want to let go, admiring the fact that you were even sticking it out with him.

“And maybe next time,” You whispered, pressing a featherlight kiss to the corner of his mouth, “You’ll crack something a little less expensive.”

That made him laugh for real this time–a breathy, bashful sound as he rested his forehead against yours. “No more windows,” He whispered. “I promise.” You swayed in your spot for a moment relishing in the silence, as your hearts thudded against each other like it shared the same rhythm.

“…Maybe just the bedframe,” He mumbled a second later–so quietly you almost missed it.

There was a pause.

Then his eyes went wide, his entire face lighting up scarlet as the implication hit him a split second too late. “Oh my god,” He breathed, “I didn’t mean—shit—I mean I did but I—”

You broke into laughter, the sound bursting out of you like sunlight, catching yourself against his chest as your shoulders shook. “Robert Reynolds,” You gasped through your giggles, “I didn’t take you as a person to make a sex joke like that…I like it.”

——————

Yelena snapped her fingers in front of your face.

”Helloooo? Earth to Y/N…You’ve been zoned out for like ten minutes, are you concussed or something?” You shook your head, snapping yourself out of your trance, noticing your palms were sweaty, and your pulse was pounding in your head.

”Sorry…I’m fine, I was just thinking about that last round in my head. Trying to figure out how I let my ass hit the mat again.” You lied, grabbing your water bottle, attempting to cool yourself down.

”Uh-huh…” Yelena muttered, clearly not buying it.

Bucky was watching you as well, his expression unreadable as usual, his elbow still propped on his knee. His eyes were sharper now, completely focused.

”Maybe we should wrap it up for the day, I’ve got to go pick up a few things from my old apartment anyways, the renters are getting mad that I haven’t swung by yet.” You looked over at Yelena, who stretched her legs out with a low groan.

“Alright, that sounds fine to me.” She responded, getting up from the bench, cracking her neck before walking to the lockers, leaving you and Bucky alone. You let out a soft exhale, grateful that the plug had been pulled. You were too distracted to go for another round anyways.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” You glanced up at Bucky, your eyes meeting his gaze. There was no judgement in his face, just quiet concern. You nodded.

”Yeah, I promise, I just spaced out.” He watched you for just a moment longer, like he was trying to see if you had any tells of a lie.

”Alright,” He said, turning to grab his towel from the bench, “But if you ever want to talk, you know where I am.” You gave him a soft smile.

”Thanks, Buck.” He lingered for a second longer, then gave a quick salute and headed off after Yelena, leaving you alone. You stayed on the bench for a few minutes, gathering your thoughts and swatting around the brain fog that clouded your mind, before finally standing, feeling your muscles groan in protest.

You collected your things and caught a quick shower before making your way back to your room, expecting to divulge the line of questioning that Yelena had for you to Bob, but when you opened the door he wasn’t there. Your brows furrowed in disappointment as you stepped into the room, noticing a little note on his bed. You dropped your bag on the floor, picking up the scrap piece of paper that had his messy handwriting scrawled on it.

“Meet me on the roof, wear a sweater.” You were confused about the sweater part, but you still dug around for one, slipping it over your head once you found one that wasn’t already worn.

———

The rooftop greeted you with silence, except for the low hum of wind and the muffled buzz of distant traffic below. You stepped out slowly, your sweater wrapped tight around your arms, the door clicking shut behind you.

Bob was already there, standing near the edge, hunched slightly, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders curled in like he was bracing against the cold—or maybe against himself. The soft yellow glow from the rooftop security lights carved gentle shadows across his back, catching in his wind blown hair.

“You okay?” You called out, walking towards him, gaining his attention instantly. A small smile came up on his lips, as he wrung his hands together, like he was excited about something.

“I am now,” He responded, meeting you halfway. There was something different about him tonight, he still had that shy uncertainty about him, but it was like he was pushing it off a bit, replacing it with something more…Confident, “I wanted to show you something, if that’s alright of course.” He added stepping into your space, now close enough that his breath was fanning over your face. You tilted your head at him, squinting playfully.

”Are you going to crack all the windows from up here?” Bob let out a soft, breathy laugh, shaking his head as a pink flush creeped up the sides of his neck.

”I promised you I wouldn’t break any more windows, and I will keep my word.” Before you could press further, he stepped closer, closing the last inch of space between you, wrapping his arms tightly around your back. It wasn’t hurried or anything, just grounding, and it was done with intention. You inhaled against his chest, the scent of cold air and warm cotton surrounding you as he ducked his head and pressed a kiss to your lips–soft, and gentle, yet brimming with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He pulled back for one moment, before adding one more peck against your lips, a smile draped across his mouth.

His arms hadn’t loosened around you, and you could feel the steady thumping of his heart under your hands where they rested against his chest.

”Okay…” You murmured, brows lifting at him, feeling your cheeks growing hot under his stare, and from the gentle kiss he had given you, “Now you really need to tell me what’s got you in such a chipper mood. You’re smiling like you’ve got a secret, and it’s starting to freak me out.” Bob’s grin widened–shy, crooked, but deeply earnest. You squinted at him a bit, catching little flecks of gold sparkling in the blues of his eyes.

”Just hold still,” He whispered, voice hushed and warm, “And I’ll show you.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he tightened his arms around you, like he was locking you into place against his chest.

Then you felt it.

A strange, delicate lift in your stomach, similar to how it feels when you’re descending on a roller coaster, only just a little more tolerable. The pressure in your knees disappeared, your weight lessened…And your boots weren’t on the rooftop anymore.

”Bob…?” You said, your voice filling with panic.

”Shh, I’ve got you,” He murmured, eyes fixating on yours, “Just trust me.” He whispered. You took in a sharp breath, and nodded. The movement wasn’t fast or jarring. It felt like being exhaled by the Earth–like rising through a warm, invisible current. The wind tugged gently at your sweater, and your breath caught in your throat as you instinctively brought yourself even closer to him, not daring to look down to see how high up you were.

“Holy shit Bob, we’re flying…” You said, your voice shaking, caught between fear and awe.

”Well technically I’m flying, and you’re just one of my lucky passengers. My first and only to be exact.” He corrected jokingly, you smirked at him, continuing to look over his face. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, as the air around you thickened, warming against your cheeks despite the altitude change. You felt like you were suspended in a dream–held against him, hundreds of feet off the ground, with only starlight above you, and a glittering city below.

“How does it feel?” You asked softly, seeing Bob blink down at you, eyes soft and uncertain, “To have all this power…” You added, your hand slowly unraveling from holding onto his hoodie, splaying it across his chest instead, rubbing along the warmth with a soft smile draped on your lips, “To be able to do this–to lift me off the ground, to break windows without touching them, to float above the world like it’s nothing…” The way you looked up at him–half curious, half lust driven–made something buzz in his bloodstream, something golden and chaotic, and desperate for attention as he felt your fingers trailing up the side of his neck.

Bob swallowed thickly, his arms tightening around your waist even more, his breath hitching as he let out a faint nervous laugh before glancing down at you, seeing your face glowing softly from the city lights that reflected in your eyes.

”It’s…Intense. I constantly have this noise in my head, like it’s trying to break out, and I’m always on edge trying to suppress it…But when you’re around, and you’re able to block it…I have those moments of peace, and I love it…So much Y/N.” He emphasized, as your fingers curled gently into the collar of his hoodie, while your other hand cupped his jaw, brushing your thumb over his cheek.

”You know…I wish you could see yourself the way I do,” You whispered, your voice nearly lost in the hush of the night, “The way you handle everything, the way you care about being gentle, the way you hold back even when you could easily just let go…” You went on, looking up at him with such admiration it made him gulp down the lump that was forming in his throat, “You’re just incredible Bob…And I wish you believed that more often.” Bob’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, like he needed to steady himself from the weight of your words, and when he opened them again, they shimmered with something so raw and fragile it made your heart ache.

“No one’s ever said anything like that to me before,” He laughed softly, but there was no humor in it, just disbelief. “It feels like…You’re seeing someone I want to be. Someone I wish I was.” You reached up with your other hand now, pressing it against his cheek.

”You already are.” You whispered, a soft smile coming up onto your lips, as your eyes trailed over his face.

Bob leaned forward, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath warming your skin as it mingled with the air that kissed your face. For a long moment, he didn’t speak, he just held you close, taking in the night for what it was giving him so far. His fingers twitched against your lower back, like he was trying to figure out what he was going to say next.

“Can I ask you something…Kind of dumb?” Your lips quirked at his words, blinking up at him.

”There’s no dumb questions…Go ahead and ask.” He let out a nervous breath of a laugh, pulling his forehead off yours so he could get a better look at you, shaking his head a bit as if he was trying to psych himself up.

”I’ve been…Thinking for the past couple of days…And if it’s too soon or too much just–just tell me okay? I can handle it, I promise.” He started, stuttering through his words.

”Okay, “ You whispered, already feeling your heart climbing into your throat, seeing the way he looked at you with such hope, terror, and utter sincerity. He glanced away for a second, feeling his cheeks flushing hot.

“I was wondering if maybe–if it’s something you’d want–if I could, um…” He cleared his throat, then bit the inside of his cheek, finally whispering, “If I could make love to you tonight.” When the words fell from his mouth it felt like the sky was going to split open and swallow him whole, but he meant every word he said, and you could tell it was something that he wanted to make sure you wanted as well.

”I’ve been wanting to ask that for a while now, but I didn’t want to ruin anything or scare you off, or…” His voice faded, as he stopped himself from embarrassing himself any further, “God, I sound like an idiot.” He whispered. You shook your head, cradling his face in your hands, gently tilting his head down so you could look into those soft blue eyes.

”Bob…” You whispered, “You don’t sound like an idiot at all…You sound like someone who cares about me. A lot.” His lips parted like he wanted to protest, but the words never came. You leaned in, brushing your nose against his, “And that’s never something to be ashamed of.” His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as he trembled from the gust of wind that blew by the both of you, and from the nerves that prickled throughout his body.

”I just…” He started, swallowing another lump that began to form in his throat, feeling like he was on the brink of tears, “I’ve never done it like this before…Where it actually means something…Where I feel…So much that it scares the crap out of me.” You pressed your lips together tightly, removing one of your hands from his face.

”Hold me with one arm, I want you to give me one of your hands.” You instructed, and he obliged immediately, keeping you flush against him and giving you his other hand like you requested. You took it and brought it to your chest, laying it gently over your heart.

”Do you feel that?” You whispered, watching him nod slowly, his palm splaying flat over the pounding rhythm the shook the cavity of your chest, “That’s how I feel when I look at you…When you smile at me, when you hold me…When you ask me things like this, with all these nerves going through you…And that’s also how I’m going to feel when we make love tonight.” You added, feeling Bob’s breath hitch in his throat, and for a second he didn’t move. You thought you put him into shock, but then his fingers curled ever so slightly against your skin, like he was tethering himself to you.

”I wanna be good for you.” He replied, his voice breaking around the edges, “I want to be everything you deserve…I want to take my time…I want to see what you look like when you fall apart because of me, and I want to memorize every sound you make and every place you like to be touched and–and I want to hold you through all of it.” Your eyes softened at his words, feeling your heart folding at the edges from the way he said it with such trembling devotion, like he was offering you everything he had without knowing if it would be enough for you.

”I wouldn’t want it any other way Bob…” He breathed out slowly like he’d been holding it for minutes, like your answer reached someplace deep inside him he didn’t know was waiting to be filled. A small, shaky smile tugged at his lips.

“Okay,” He whispered. “Okay.”

You felt his arms shift, the weight of the wind returning to your skin, and together—slow and gentle—you began to drift back down. The city lights rose to meet you, the rooftop coming back into focus beneath your boots. He didn’t let go. Not even once. His hand stayed tucked between your shoulder blades, warm and steady, like he didn’t trust gravity alone to carry you safely.

The moment your feet touched solid ground again, you didn’t speak. You just stood there for a second, forehead still brushing his, eyes locked and dazed with something fragile and full and beautiful. And then you kissed him.

It wasn’t rushed–it wasn’t even desperate…It was just full. Full of promise. Of understanding. Of anticipation humming low in both your bellies. His hand cupped the side of your face so delicately it made your knees weaken, and when he pulled back, you didn’t have to say a word. You just reached for his fingers and laced yours through them.

“Come inside with me,” You said quietly.

And he followed instantly.

————

You left the light on before you went up to the roof, so when the both of you stepped into your shared quarters, the soft yellow hue of the lamp greeted you with open arms and warmed your skin almost instantly.

Bob closed the door behind him with a soft click, the quiet thud echoing between your beds like a held breath. You stepped into the space between them, turning to face him slowly, your hands sliding up to push your hair from your face. His eyes followed the motion, catching every shift of your body like he didn’t want to miss a second, his fingers fumbling with the edge of his hoodie.

“H-How do you want to start?” He asked quietly, his voice threadbare with nerves. All confidence from the roof had dwindled pretty quickly once the reality of the situation really settled in, and now he could feel his chest tightening from the thought of what was going to come next. You could see it in the way he fumbled with whatever he could get his fingers on, it was the most obvious tell of his. You stepped toward him carefully, and held your hand out like you normally did with him.

”Come here,” You whispered. Bob didn’t hesitate this time around, taking a few steps towards you until you could curl your fingers around the hem of his hoodie, slipping your hands under the soft fabric so you could touch his burning skin. His jaw clenched for a moment at first contact, his lashes fluttering at the featherlight touch you always used with him. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, letting out a shaky breath against your mouth.

”We don’t have to start any particular way,” You murmured, “Just be here with me…” Bob gave a slow, trembling nod, bringing his hands to your waist. You leaned forward a bit, pressing your lips against his, taking his breath away in one quick moment of time. You could feel his shoulders loosen a little, as he sighed into you, his fingers squeezing your clothed flesh gently, pulling your body closer to his. You broke the kiss first, removing your sweater quickly because you were growing warm extremely quickly, just like Bob you ran hot, but only when you were anticipating something, and this was definitely something you were looking forward to.

You threw the sweater to the side with a sigh, pushing your hair out of your face again as you adjusted yourself, seeing Bob’s eyes following your movements, and tracing over the skin that was revealed to him. The light camisole you wore hugged your figure just enough that he could make out the subtle shape of your breasts beneath it, and in the dimmed hue of the room he could see the way your nipples pebbled against the fabric. Before he could even stop himself, his fingers curled under the hem of the covering.

”Can I…?” His voice trailed off, looking down at you with dazed eyes. You nodded immediately, raising your arms up slightly, feeling the way he peeled the fabric up gently, wanting to drink in every inch of newly exposed skin. He slipped the camisole off you, throwing it to the side to join your sweater now, as his eyes returned to your bare chest.

For a second, it was like he didn’t breathe. His mouth parted slightly, and a stunned silence stretched between you before he managed to snap himself out of the trance your breasts had put him in, clearing his throat.

”You’re so…Beautiful. I mean–I already told you that, but seeing you like this–“ He cut himself off, looking down at himself, flustered, “Makes me feel overdressed.” You let out a small giggle, seeing the blush that crowded his face turn an even deeper red.

”Definitely overdressed.” You agreed, keeping your tone light, coaxing a nervous laugh from him. He ducked his head with a shy huff of breath, his hair falling into his eyes.

”S-Sorry. Didn’t mean to get ahead of myself, I just–“

“Hey,” You interrupted, reaching up to cup his face with both hands, forcing his gaze to stay on yours–his pupils already blown out from seeing your bare chest– as you ran your thumbs along his cheeks, “It’s okay…I like when you know what you want and ask for it. I also don’t mind being underdressed in front of you anyways. You don’t have to apologize, okay?” His lashes fluttered at you, as the tension in his shoulders melted just a little.

“Okay…” He whispered back, giving you a small nod, glancing down at himself. He pulled away from your touch, and with shaky hands, he reached for the zipper of his hoodie, tugging it down before peeling the garment off his arms and shoulders, letting it land in the soft pile of clothes that began to grow at your feet. You watched the slow rise and fall of his chest as he hesitated for only a second more before pulling his plain grey t-shirt off as well, letting it join the abyss below.

The second the fabric cleared his torso, your hands were on him–warm palms pressing against bare skin, tracing up along his ribs and over the planes of his chest, feeling the muscles contract beneath your touch, before bringing them up to rest at his neck. You pulled him down to you, fingers curling into his hair gently, as his lips met yours. The kiss this time was deeper–hungrier and desperate. He opened his mouth to you, feeling your tongue slip in, as your bodies aligned with each other again.

His hand slid up along your side, tracing over your ribs, until it found the curve of your breast, cupping it gently within his large palm. You let out a small moan of approval, your hips shifting slightly at the sensation and shivers that twinged up your spine. His thumb dragged over your nipple, circling it slowly before giving the flesh a soft and careful squeeze, not wanting to be too rough at first, drawing out a hum from you, and another gentle pull of his hair.

Bob pulled away from the kiss with a shaky smile, before peppering kisses along your jaw, and down your neck, carving out a wet path all the way to your chest, going to the breast that he wasn’t kneading with his hand still. His lips brushed over your nipple, testing, and teasing, waiting until you leaned toward him to close his mouth around it. A soft moan escaped the both of you, his breath warm and uneven against your skin as he sucked gently, his tongue moving in slow circles before fluttering along the peak. His other hand continued to palm and knead the other one, fingers teasing until both nipples were stiff beneath his attention. He switched sides, not wanting to neglect the other one, which earned another shocked gasp, feeling how more needy he was growing as he greedily sucked and nibbled. Your fingers laced deeper into his hair, trying to ground yourself when you felt your stomach somersaulting from the sensation of his tongue and mouth working in tandem together. Your words spilled out before you could really think–

“Jesus, Bob…” The moment you spoke he froze, pulling off your nipple with a soft, wet pop, lips shiny and slightly parted as he looked up at you. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes–God, his eyes–were wide and hazy, like he was drunk on you and the taste of your skin.

“Are…Are you okay?” You nodded immediately.

”More than okay.” You replied, as your fingers slid out from his hair to trail down his chest, moving with slow precision as you found the tie at the waistband of his sweatpants, keeping your gaze locked on his. You made quick work of it, undoing the knot in one swift pull before pushing at the fabric so it shifted down his hips, exposing more and more skin to you. He straightened up a little, taking his hand off your breast to push them off his legs completely, kicking them off to the side before mirroring your actions–going for your sweatpants too.

He bent down slightly to push them down your legs, and you took the opportunity to steal a quick kiss from him, catching him off guard. The both of you broke into soft laughter, easing your nerves a bit. Once the sweatpants hit the ground you kicked them off your feet, letting them be banished with the rest of your clothes.

Now in just your underwear, the air between the both of you was thick with anticipation. Your breathing slowed, and deepend, syncing with his as he took you in–really absorbing every inch of skin he could see, battle wounds and all–his gaze lingering everywhere. You let your gaze fall for a moment, catching the shape of him beneath the soft cotton of his boxers. His erection was unmistakable, full and straining against the fabric, the outline was thick and defined, which made you nervous, but also excited. The image alone sent a pulse through your belly, and made your toes curl.

When you looked back up at him, he wasn’t staring at your body anymore, he was watching your face. His expression was so open, so filled with awe and admiration that it nearly made your breath catch in your chest. He reached out, his fingers gently cupping your jaw, his thumb running over the skin, before leaning in to press another kiss to your lips, savouring the moment with a sigh.

Then, without saying a word his hand slipped from your face and slid around your back, while his other arm slid under your thighs, lifting you to him with ease. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he carried you the short distance to his bed, throwing the duvet down to the foot of the bed, before lowering you down onto the cool sheets, letting the mattress form around your figure, pushing you up a bit so he could get on top of you.

Bob settled between your thighs with the softest exhale, like he was afraid to ruin the moment by moving too quickly. His knees sank into the mattress, feeling the way your legs guided him closer to you. His hands remained gentle–one braced beside your head, the other holding the side of your hip, absentmindedly tracing circles along it with his thumb.

You tilted your face up to him, and he dipped his head to meet your lips once again. The kiss was slower this time, deep with care and tenderness. You kissed him back with the heat of a thousand suns, your fingers slipping into his hair, pulling him a little closer as your body arched up into his. His hand on your hip drifted up your side, tickling your ribs with the ghosts of his fingertips, letting the intimacy of the moment wrap around you like a second skin.

Then, he pulled back slightly, just far enough to look at you–eyes searching, lips still parted, breath uneven against your mouth. He hesitated for a moment, his thumb brushing idly over your ribs before he finally spoke.

”I-I want to go down on you,” He said quietly, as if the words were sacred to him. His voice was shaky, but you could tell it was just from the nerves that were pulsing through him in those moments, “I want to…Take care of you first…Want to show you how much I’ve been thinking about this…How much I’ve been thinking about you…If that’s okay?” Your heart thudded so loudly in your chest you swore he could hear it. The look on his face–open, vulnerable–was enough to make your breath catch. His words wrapped around you with such warmth that it rooted deep in your body.

You reached up, your fingers curling around the back of his neck, as you whispered.

”That’s more than okay.” He swallowed hard, and then nodded, giving you a small kiss, before drifting down your skin, his lips reaching every inch of you, peppering wet little marks across you, committing every detail to memory. Your hands drifted to his shoulders, brushing across the solid muscles of his back. He kissed your chest, then your ribs, all the way until he reached the edge of your underwear. He paused, lifting his gaze to yours again, just to be sure.

You gave him a small nod, watching his fingers hook under the fabric. He pulled the fabric down your hips, and thighs, as you helped him by pulling each leg out for him. He let out a sigh, looking at your completely bare figure beneath him now, his bottom lip slipping between his teeth for a brief moment before returning to where he was moments ago, putting your legs over his shoulders.

Bob leaned forward, brushing his mouth along your inner thigh, peppering kisses along the skin, memorizing the taste of your skin, inching closer and closer to where you needed him the most. By the time he reached your core, you could feel your whole body pulsing against him, thrumming with anticipation and desperation.

When he finally brought his mouth to your core, he slowly licked upwards, wanting to savour the first time he got to actually taste you. The feeling of it caught you off guard, which drew a soft moan from your lips–broken and boarding on a whimper. His hands tightened at your thighs, holding you closer to him as he licked you again–more firmly this time–his tongue parting you gently, working up to circle around your clit without touching it quite yet. You closed your eyes tightly, reaching down to lace into his soft brown strands of hair. You could feel his eyes on you, watching every reaction that he coaxed out of you. When his mouth finally closed around your clit, your fingers in his hair tightened, hips rolling into him with a gasp.

“F-Fuck…Bob.” You choked out, and that was all he needed.

He groaned softly in response–just hearing your voice sounding so wrecked like that almost destroyed him–and he settled deeper between your thighs. He dragged his tongue in slow, deliberate strokes, curling it just right at the tip, then flicking it softly against you until your legs trembled around him. He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking gently, then swirling his tongue with practiced rhythm, giving you just enough then pulling back slightly to tease again, letting you chase the pressure.

Your back arched off the bed slightly, your breath catching in your throat.

”You…Holy fuck Bob…” You whined, not being able to find the words in your vocabulary because your brain was melting from the intense pressure that was building in your stomach. The way you said his name had him clutching at your thighs tighter, grounding himself as he buried his face against you more, like a man starved. He moaned softly, sending another wave of heat through your core, the vibration making you gasp. His tongue flicked, circled, and flattened, lavishing you with such deliberate devotions which drew you closer and closer to the edge.

He shifted slightly, and took one of his hands off your hip, bringing it between your thighs as he adjusted his other hand so it was splayed out along your belly. He traced his fingers through your wetness, dragging two of them along your entrance, teasing for just a second before gently slipping them inside. You bit your lip, suppressing a moan as you looked down at him, seeing how focused he was on pleasing you, his eyes glistening with such intensity that you felt like you were going to die.

His fingers moved slowly at first, letting you adjust to the slight stretch they provided, before curling them slightly, finding the spot inside you that made your back arch off the bed, crying out as your legs tightened around his head. He didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate, he just groaned again, like your pleasure was the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Oh my god–Bob–Bob please don’t stop…Don’t stop.” You begged, your voice breathless, and trembling on every syllable. Your fingers gripped his hair even tighter, as you felt the orgasm cresting with a pressure so intense it stole the air from your lungs. Your body was unraveling, and your muscles were tightening like a wire drawn taut. He felt it–he felt the way your walls began to pulse around his fingers, the way your hips started to jerk–and he doubled down, curling his fingers harder, sucking your clit in time with your shattering moans.

“Come for me,” He whispered against you, voice wrecked, barely audible but so sure. “Please. I want to feel it.” You broke apart beneath him with a cry, your thighs clamping around his head as your body seized, pleasure rocketing through you in waves so intense they left your limbs shaking. Your core pulsed around his fingers, your back arching off the mattress as you rode out the release, breath stuttering through sobs of ecstasy.

Bob held you through it, fingers still moving slowly inside you as his mouth gently eased off, switching to open-mouthed kisses along your thighs, grounding you, kissing you through the aftershocks. He watched your body tremble beneath him, his own breath ragged with awe.

Finally, when you dropped back onto the mattress with a long, shaky sigh, he pulled his fingers from you slowly, kissing your hip one more time before crawling up over your body. His skin was flushed, his mouth was wet and glistening with your arousal, and his eyes were glazed and dark with want–but there was so much tenderness in his face that it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, before pulling back to caress your cheek, his thumb running just below your eye.

”Are you okay? Did I–“ You cupped his face, and pulled him back down to you, kissing him again, interrupting the words that were about to fall out of his mouth. He let a soft moan against your lips, before you slowly pulled back.

”You did…Absolutely amazing Bob. So fucking amazing.” Bob’s breath hitched the moment you said it, and you watched the praise ripple through him like a tide, flooding his expression with something raw and deeply earnest. He looked almost overwhelmed, like he didn’t know what to do with that kind of affirmation, but he was appreciative of it regardless.

You gave him a second to breathe, brushing his hair back gently from his flushed forehead as he hovered over you, gaze still fixed on your face like he couldn’t believe you were real.

Then you tilted your head toward his ear, your voice soft and steady.

“My turn.”

Bob blinked, his lips parting slightly. “Y-You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” You cut him off gently, placing your palms on his chest and guiding him down onto his back. “I really want to.”

He let you maneuver him without resistance, collapsing onto the pillows as you crawled over him, straddling his thighs with slow, deliberate movements that kept his eyes trained on you. Your fingers trailed down his torso, grazing the firm lines of his chest and stomach, watching as his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

When you shifted lower, reaching for the waistband of his boxers, he let out a sharp breath.

“Wait—” He said quickly, sitting up on one elbow, using his other hand to catch your wrist. “I–shit–I want you to just–just use your hands, okay?” You blinked at him, a little surprised by the request and the sudden interruption.

“Why?” You asked gently. His face flushed harder, eyes dropping to the sheets for a second before he met your gaze again, voice low and a little sheepish.

”Because I’m gonna end up finishing too fast if you use your mouth..And I don’t want to finish unless it’s inside you.” He admitted, his breath unsteady. Your thighs flinched at his words, leaving you staggered. You weren’t expecting it, not from him. Not from soft-spoken, anxious, stammering Bob…But then again he had just given you the best orgasm in the world…So he did have a bit more of a wilder side to him that evidently he only reserved for you at this point.

”…Okay.” You whispered, leaning in to kiss him once more, before easing down his body again. Your fingers curled into the waistband of his boxers, and you eased them down his hips, eyes never leaving his as you exposed him to the cool air. His cock was thick and flushed, twitching slightly with need, already glistening at the tip with precum. The sight of him made your mouth go dry, and your stomach turn. You wrapped your fingers around him slowly, watching the way his jaw tightened at your touch, his head falling back against the pillow with a soft moan. Your hand moved in slow, steady strokes, twisting gently at the tip, your palm slick from how worked up he already was.

“Oh…Oh god you’re going to ruin me.” He rasped, breathlessly. You leaned over him, your free hand braced against his chest as you shifted to straddle his thighs properly. The weight of you over him made his eyes flutter open again. His hands went to your hips, as if just having you there made him feel steadier. Then without warning, he looked up at you with glassy eyes and spoke.

“C-Can I sit up against the headboard?” His voice was rough with need, but still gentle—like he didn’t want to disrupt the closeness, only deepen it.

You nodded immediately, helping guide him as he adjusted, both of you moving slowly so nothing between you was rushed. You cradled his shoulders as he shifted upward, his back settling against the cold wood of the headboard with a relieved exhale. The lamp’s soft glow painted his chest in gold, and his hair was a little messy from where your fingers had run through it, his mouth still parted as he looked at you with awe.

You straddled his lap again, keeping one hand wrapped around the base of him as he pulled you closer again. His head tilted forward and he pressed warm, open-mouthed kisses to your chest, lips finding your breast again like he needed it, sucking gently over the flesh, making sure to leave a mark before pausing to let his breath fan across your skin. All the while, your hand kept moving—slow, slick, steady. You felt him throb in your palm, the heat of him pulsing like a second heartbeat. You could hear him panting, but he didn’t tell you to stop, so you continued until he pulled back from your chest completely, his pupils blown wide with something molten in his expression.

”Y/N, spit in my mouth…” He whispered, “I want all of you…I want everything. I want you in every part of me…Please.” He added, his voice on the edge of a whimper. Your breath caught at his words, not from surprise or shock but from the vulnerability the words had to them. His need wasn’t crude…It was devotional, like it was the only way he knew how to show you how dedicated he was.

You nodded once, slowly, with your eyes locked on his. Your free hand came up to cradle his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly beneath his eye before gently tilting his head back, exposing his throat to you. He kept his gaze on you, wide-eyed and trembling as you leaned over him, still stroking his cock while doing so.

With your lips parted and breath warm, you let a slow, steady thread of saliva slip from your mouth–down past his lips and onto his waiting tongue. He didn’t flinch, he just accepted it with a shuddering breath, swallowing it right when it made contact. A flush bloomed even more across his neck and chest. You smiled down at him, seeing how satisfied he looked. He took a deep breath, then surged forward, one arm wrapping around your waist as he kissed you, open and warm, with his lips parting against yours like he wanted to thank you with his whole body.

You deepened the kiss, your chest pressing flush to his as he held you in his lap, the heat of his body radiating against yours like a shell. His hands roamed over your back, your waist, everywhere he could reach, but it wasn’t frantic—it was gentle and slow, like he was memorizing you by feeling alone. And then you pulled back, just enough to speak, your lips barely brushing his.

“I need you inside me.”

The words left you in a whisper, but they hit him like a lightning strike. Bob’s breath stuttered, and his eyes fluttered open to meet yours—glazed, dazed, and swimming in something so deep it made your spine curl. He nodded, a little frantic, the motion jerky as he grasped at your hips again, steadying you, grounding himself.

“You sure?” He asked, drawing his brows together, his voice hoarse, wanting to be sure you were on board with this completely. You nodded, kissing him one more time.

”Never been more sure.” You adjusted your hips with care, steadying yourself as you guided him to your entrance, the tip of him hot and slick against you. Bob’s breath hitched, his fingers flexing hard at your waist as he tried to hold himself still, trying not to rush you. You watched his jaw tense, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you slowly began to sink down onto him, inch by inch, until he filled you completely.

The stretch made your thighs tremble and your breath catch, and Bob let out a strangled groan that vibrated through his whole chest. His head fell back against the headboard with a soft thump, eyes fluttering closed as he murmured something that sounded like your name paired with the words oh my God. You sat there a moment, your hands planted on his chest, letting your bodies adjust, feeling the twitch of him inside you, the way he was already pulsing with restraint.

And then you began to move.

It was slow at first, just the tiniest grind of your hips forward and back, your slick heat stroking along his length. His eyes cracked open, dazed and glassy, like he couldn’t believe this was real. He brought his hands to your hips, guiding you gently, letting you take what you needed at your own pace, and in your own way.

You moved together like a heartbeat–slow, steady, with increasing intensity.

Bob’s hands slid up your back, then down again to cup your ass, helping you ride him deeper, pushing you just enough to make your breath hitch with every descent. His moans became more frequent, low and helpless against your skin, and he whispered your name like a prayer, again and again, until it bled into the rhythm of your bodies.

“God–you feel so good–so so good,” he rasped against your neck. “I don’t think I can–oh shit–”

Your hips were moving faster now, desperation threading into every motion. The room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, your quiet moans, and his ragged breathing. You felt like you were both on fire—burning, blindingly alive.

And then, suddenly, Bob shifted.

Without warning, he gripped your thighs and flipped you, your back hitting the mattress with a gasp. Before you could say anything, he was there—above you—sliding back into you in one fluid, aching thrust. You cried out, your hands gripping his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, pulling him in closer.

Bob moaned softly, burying his face into your neck as his hips snapped forward with more force now, losing the gentle rhythm he had from before, exchanging it for something deeper, and more primal. One of his hands found yours and squeezed it tight, pressing it against the pillow beside your head, while the other shot out grip the headboard so he could brace himself.

And then the sound hit.

CRACK.

You barely registered it at first–you were too lost in the crescendo building inside your body, the way he filled you so perfectly, the way your name fell from his lips like he was worshiping you with every thrust. But his body shuddered on top of you, his hips jerking erratically now, the pace stuttering as he reached the edge.

“Oh God–God–Y/N–”

He moaned loudly, something close to a gasp punched from his lungs as his hips slammed into you one final time, and his whole body locked up. His hand crushed the top of the headboard–literally splintering the wood under his palm as he came inside you with a broken, breathless cry. You felt the wave of it, the way he pulsed deep inside, the warmth of him spilling into you, and it sent you hurtling over the edge too, your climax crashing through your limbs like a wave snapping every nerve awake. You cried out beneath him, your nails dragging down his back, your body seizing around him.

Bob collapsed, trembling, his forehead pressed to your shoulder, his breath hot and wild against your collarbone. His hair was a complete mess, damp and tangled and wild across your skin. He was heavy and shaking, still buried inside you, both of you locked in the aftermath–too breathless to speak. You could feel his heart pounding against you–where his chest was pressed against yours.

Then slowly, you felt him lift his head from your shoulder, his cheeks a complete crimson now, lips parted as he gazed down at you with those shimmering blue eyes again, like he was trying to comprehend what just happened.

In those moments he leaned forward and kissed you, like he was saying thank you, or maybe he was trying to determine if this really was happening. You kissed him back with the same softness he gave you, your fingers pushing his hair back from his face. He sighed, and pulled back from your lips, his gaze raising slightly. You could see his mouth drop open slightly, and his eyes went wide.

”…What?” You asked, your brows drawing together in confusion. He didn’t answer. Instead, he gently reached up and tilted your chin, guiding your gaze upward–and that’s when you saw it.

A clean, jagged split ran right down the center of the wooden headboard. Splintered and cracked like lightning had struck it from above. Your mouth parted in shock, and for a beat neither of you said anything.

Then you laughed.

It started soft–with disbelief and surprise–but quickly turned into full, breathless giggles that made your body shake. Bob buried his face in your neck again, groaning quietly.

“At least we still have my bed to move to,” You teased, stroking his hair to calm him down from the embarrassment he was probably feeling. “But maybe we should…I don’t know…Get things that don’t break so easily?”

Bob groaned again into your skin, and you could hear the shy smile behind it. “Y-Yeah…Yeah, maybe,” He mumbled, barely audible.

You could feel the heat creeping back into his cheeks.

“Though…” He added after a pause, voice muffled and sheepish, “If sex is always gonna be like that… I-I don’t think it’ll matter what it’s made of…” You smirked, pushing him off his shoulder so you could look at him–and the adorable way he immediately avoided your gaze. Your heart swelled.

“Sounds like a good time to me,” You whispered, brushing his messy hair back from his forehead before pressing a kiss to it.

Eventually, you cleaned yourselves up, and shifted to your bed, sliding in under the fresh sheets, tucking yourselves into each other. Bob curled around you protectively, your bodies bare and warm together, with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, nose buried into your hair. You fell asleep like that–saturated in the safety of each other, breath syncing, hearts still fluttering.

——————

The morning sunlight slipped gently into the room, illuminating the soft gold glow of the lamp you’d forgotten to turn off.

You were the first to stir.

Bob’s arms were still locked around you, holding you like he thought you might disappear. You turned in his embrace, resting your palm against his chest, letting your fingers trace lazy circles along his sternum, and the little scars that he had around that area that were barely noticeable. His eyes fluttered open not long after, blinking slowly until they found yours.

“Morning,” You whispered.

“Hi…” He whispered back, his voice gravelly from, as one hand moved to push your hair out of your face with the backs of his fingers. “You’re still here.”

You smiled. “Of course I am.”

He returned a smile back to you, cupping your cheek gently before leaning in to kiss you–sleepy and sweet, his soft lips barely moving, while his nose brushed against yours. He pulled back slowly, letting his thumb trace your lower lip. You kissed the pad of it, with a sweet smirk.

”I could stay like this forever,” He murmured, trailing his touch down to the side of your neck, taking in the image of you in front of him, making sure he would remember this moment. You tilted your head into his hand, staring up at him with your heart pounding against your chest.

”Me too.” He grinned, just a little. The kind of grin that was half love-drunk and half processing the events that happened last night, then you remembered what you were going to talk to him about yesterday when you came back to the room, before you found his note.

”Hey I was actually going to tell you something when I came back to the room,” You began, already laughing at the story, seeing the way his attention was on you, hanging off of every word “During training yesterday evening, Yelena and Bucky gave me the third degree abo-“ Just as you were about to tell him you heard Yelena’s voice coming from an already opening door.

”Y/N, missed tra-OH MY GOD! HOLY CRAP!” You jolted, the covers pulling up to your chest as Bob yelped and scrambled to sit up behind you, wide-eyed and clutching the sheets. In the doorway, Yelena stood with her hands over her eyes, then immediately turned and bolted out again.

”I KNEW IT! BUCKY I TOLD YOU!” She yelled. The both of you glanced over at each other.

”…I’m assuming they gave you…The third degree about us?” Bob asked, finishing the sentence you were about to say before the interruption.

“Yeah…” You whispered under your breath, trying to suppress a laugh.

[berrryparfait]

shower head ✩⋆｡˚

— ༉‧₊ᐟ featuring: sylus, zayne, rafayel, xavier, caleb x fem-afab!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: feeling curious, playful, and pent-up, you decide to surprise him by stepping into the shower and giving him head. you've never done anything like this before. 「my girlfriend can be quite surprising at times. and bold.」

— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: [nsfw] pure smut, lads men being needy while you suck them off, dubcon but deep down everyone involved could not have been more willing (they told me personally)

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: bathroom – montell fish

✧ a/n: hihi!!! wow, it's been a while! this is my first fic on this account—i used to run @.starfellforyou but got a little bored of writing genshin fics and decided to hop right on over to another one of my hyperfixations instead... this also happens to be my first ever nsfw fic (i told myself to stop daydreaming and start writing lol), so please lmk if there's anything i'm doing wrong/missing out on as i'm fairly inexperienced when it comes to tumblr etiquette. hope you like it! <3

SYLUS squints at you, his hands stilling in his hair as the last suds of shampoo run off. "Are you lost?" he drawls, voice dripping with honey. He steps away from underneath the overhead shower and turns to fully face you—he's gorgeous, muscles slicked with running water and face slightly flushed from the heat. You simply stare at him with a mischievous glint in your eye, a teaser for what's to come. "It's unlike you to show up like this, unannounced." He smirks at you, unabashedly eyeing the length of your naked body and tracing your gaze to his semi-hard cock. You return his lewd expression. "I do love to keep you guessing." Slowly, you kneel before him, rivulets of water gushing down the side of your face and between your bare breasts. He leans against the wall as you open your mouth to take him in, his movements lazy. It's a struggle at first, but the low groan that escapes his lips turns it into a challenge. You run your tongue along his length, eyes glistening with cruel anticipation as it hardens to the point of no return. Determined, you begin to push deeper, moving back and forth as he sighs and throws his head back against the wall. With a delicious "pop", you release him from your mouth and begin teasing his tip. You circle his favorite spot and try your best to resist a smile when he squeezes his eyes shut, breaths coming shorter and faster and in white puffs of steam way above you. "Fuck..." His hands find their way to the back of your head, where they gently but firmly grasp your hair and begin to pull. Your mouth is guided back around his cock as you begin to suck him off harder, sounds of pleasure that beckon you to pick up speed echoing overhead. Push. Pull. Push. Pull. His hands around your head get rougher—more desperate—and you reach out to grab his thighs as his tip slams against the back of your throat. Hot spurts of cum fill your mouth, drip down your chin, coat the impressive length of his cock. There's so much of it. You both pant in exasperation, completely spent, only partially satisfied. The look in his eyes sends shivers down your spine. I'm getting fucked tonight. "Get up, we're going to bed."

ZAYNE works hard. So hard that you feel he deserves a little treat. Dr. Zayne may dedicate his life to helping others, but you want to dedicate your life to helping Dr. Zayne. A simple equation, really. The look on his face when he sees a very exposed you enter the shower while he's in it is pure gold. He frowns in shock, his cheeks turning pink as he backs away from you and makes a feeble effort to cover himself and protect his decency. It's endearing, the genuine confusion on his face. Need to make him cum hard. Really hard. "W-What are you doing in here?" He darts his eyes from side to side as he tries to avert his gaze from your breasts, now inches away from his chest. You shut the door behind you and get down on your knees. "You've had a long day at work, Doctor. Let me help you relax..." You gesture for him to sit down on the shower bench, and he reluctantly complies. "I'm afraid this isn't a good idea—" "Shhh..." You cut him off with a devilish grin as you breathe onto his growing cock, and a flicker of uncertainty—and begrudging intrigue—ignites beneath his pretty features. "Be a good boy for me and hold still..." You gently glide your tongue down his length, teasing him with slow, languid strokes as he writhes and struggles to stay silent. It isn't long before your mouth is enveloping his cock, eliciting whines of pleasure from deep within his throat, the small sounds driving you crazy with need. You pick up the pace, and soon his moans grow louder, more desperate. He begins to pathetically thrust skyward, helpless against the blinding pleasure of getting his cock sucked and stroked by a natural talent. "I'm gonna cum—" he whispers, strained, as you stop torturing him with your mouth and white streaks of cum shoot out in every direction, landing on your face, your tits, the walls, his thighs. You almost feel bad for him, the way he's just sitting there shivering with leftover ecstasy. But you know that once morning comes, he'd no longer be deserving of anyone's pity.

RAFAYEL may be a god, but that doesn't mean he's beyond enjoying the fruits of worldly labor. So what if his baths are the most luxurious and elaborate you've ever seen? One has never had a good bath until they've experienced shower head. You've convinced yourself of this much—now it's time to convince Rafayel. He looks ravishing as always as you enter the large shower room, his movements elegant and naturally seductive. He startles slightly at the sight of you. "Oh? Looks like I have company." He drags his eyes up and down your body, a playful smirk playing on his lips—but you know it for what it really is. An invitation. To give Rafayel exactly what he wants. Bubbles fill the room as he spreads himself across a large shower seat in the shape of a clam. Your prince. Your pearl. As if coerced by an invisible force, you gravitate towards him with a dark anticipation in your gut. He's sprawled before you, clearly getting harder by the second. Soon, he's going to get demanding—whiny, even. You need to please him fast. You circle his tip with your tongue and plant wet kisses along the length of his shaft, your way of preparing him for what's to come. His eyes are heavy-lidded, drowsy, drunk on the look in your eyes as you take him in whole, a delicious moan escaping him as you push his thighs further apart. Slow strokes, then faster ones. Repeat. You can tell he's in pain, yet somehow still in control of himself. That just won't do. "Not good enough, Your Majesty?" Your right hand moves to caress his balls, a gesture that sends him into overdrive. "Ugh, this girl—" His voice comes out garbled with a pained groan that makes your heart leap. You back away just before he cums. Can't let him off too easy. The frustrated noise that leaves his lips satisfies you more than it should, and you don't let him wait too long before you're sucking him off again, drawing out his orgasm until he nearly blacks out. He glares at you in petty indignation as his cum explodes into your mouth, both consumed by pleasure and immensely frustrated. You swallow it all down in a single gulp, feeling proud of yourself. "Who has the higher ground now?"

XAVIER jerks away from you as if you were a bad omen, instinctually bringing his arms up around himself in an attempt to block your view of him. It's no use, of course—he's as exposed as you are. "Uh..." A violent blush tints his cheeks as he fumbles for words, vivid blue eyes unable to meet yours. "Can I help you?" How could someone come off as so shy and judgmental at the same time? The thought makes you smile. "I'm here for you, cutie." He doesn't seem to understand, but it doesn't matter—you'll just have to show him. You grab his arms and gently coax them away from his body, baring his semi-hard length to you and making him squirm. Your fingers wrap around the base of his shaft, stroking gently as he gasps and twitches. The expression on his face has shifted, dark and cautionary. "Kneel," he orders, and you obediently get down on your knees. He pushes his length against your lips and groans, any trace of the bashful, reserved boy who'd almost pushed you back out the door completely gone. You lap at his precum, the taste of it salty and slightly bitter on your tongue. He nods once, giving you permission to take him in whole. Oh god. Overwhelmed, he closes his eyes and throws his head back against the flowing water, pure bliss written all over his face. "Just...like...that..." His tortured moans are like music to your ears, a symphony giving you new resolve as you begin pumping him with heightened speed. Your hands are looped around his knees, which you notice are shaking slightly with the threat of release. A spark of excitement ignites within you as you picture him coming undone, wholly and undeniably submitted to you, a beautiful mess of your own creation. He stares down at you dangerously. You look up at him with doe eyes, because two can play that game. Who is predator and who is prey? With one last luscious stroke of your tongue along the base of his shaft, he lets out a strained cry of pleasure, planting a hand on the wall behind you to steady himself. Strings of his seed land on your face and tongue as you smile up at him, already giggling at the adorable change in his demeanor. Back once again is the Xavier you know; introverted, demure, and utterly embarrassed with himself. "No more coming in like this..." He sounds serious at first, but then he glances away and chuckles softly—and your heart explodes.

CALEB doesn't even give you time to explain yourself. One second you're stepping into the shower and the next you're sitting against the wall, your thighs flush against the stone floor. "Interrupting me again?" His tone is intimidating, so different from the way he spoke to other people. For a split second, a jolt of delicious fear shoots through you, settling right between your legs. "What, too scared to speak, Pipsqueak? You're the one who came in here." He takes a step slower, his dick inches from your lips. He's already hard. Too hard. The look in his eyes is ruthless—predatory. You begin to question your capabilities, but it doesn't last long. He slides his length into your mouth, all the way, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut to prevent yourself from gagging. "You look so pretty with me in your mouth..." The thought sends waves of pleasure through you, punctuated by sudden, hard thrusts as he fucks your face with concern for little else but the devastating pleasure coursing through him. This power dynamic, this feeling of being dominated—it's all too much. Don't stop. I don't want him to stop. Your moans are muffled and weak beneath his own savage grunts and he continues to push into your mouth, hands braced on the wall above you as he pushes against his own weight to gain momentum. "Fuck, I'm so close..." Your eyes well with tears as he thrusts deep into you one last time, warm bursts of cum filling your throat and coating your tongue. His breaths are belabored, sweat and water dripping down his chest as he looks down at the mess he created. Your face is streaked with tears, and the sight makes him smirk. For a moment, it's as if he's back to being the kind little boy you once knew. But any semblance of innocence vanishes with the next words that leave his mouth. "I'm not done using you yet, Pipsqueak."

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[finnsterus]

2 orc mates who absolutely obsess over you in the cutest ways.

Hair is a big part of their culture and taking care of eachothers hair is a very intimate thing, certain hair styles can indicate different things like your relationship status. You however, do not know this, you just think your orcs really like playing with your hair and you of course dont mind it because your hair always looks flawless and healthy.

When you first started dating them they competed for your attention, but on their own they came up with a truce, sometimes they share you and sometimes they are allowed to switch with you on certain things, like they take turns on who goes to the store with you or who showers with you (because only two can fit in that shower, especially cuz orcs are huge.) they do preffer doing most things together like cooking, cleaning, social activites, and of course anything involving the bed.

Their favorite way to lay (and only way they accept) is you sandwiched inbetween them on your giant bed. All your blankets have been nicely folded and put away in a closet considering your inbetween two giant furnaces who smother you in their sleep. Their Arms and legs wrapped around you, leaving little skin exposed to the cool air of your room. If you had a blanket over you too you would probably die of heat stroke.

Sometimes they snore and at first it drove you crazy but eventually it actually helped you sleep, like white noise. Their lungs are so big that when they snore the tone is a much deeper sound than a humans, making it less abrasive. You also kinda like the vibrations their chests make against your body, like a little massage.

Every morning you wake up to gentle hands carressing your hips and waist, lazy shapes being drawn over your chubby tummy. When you open your eyes you can always count on seeing 4 loving eyes staring lazily at your disheveled form, your previously neatly braided hair frizzy and lopsided and your eyes squinting from the sunlight that leaks through the blinds. They dont see any of that that though, they see the most beautiful woman with the perfect body and the perfect face and the perfect personality that they have the pleasure of calling theirs.

They do warship you in a way and in the beginning it does make you pretty uncomfortable because your not used to being treated so good, at first it just comes of as overbearing and overprotective, maybe even a little misogynistic. They insist on doing everything for you, wether its something like opening a door or going up stairs. The first time they swooped you up to carry you up the stairs you yelped and yelled at them to put you down, that was the saddest puppy eyes you have ever seen til this day. In time you did learn that it is part of their culture and “courting” ritual, that they only ever had good intentions and you eventually learned to love the princess treatment.

When you get to the stage of intimacy in your relationship you couldnt be happier. No other beings no matter how many there are could ever satisfy you better than them. They learn your body in and out, they know every freckle scar and weak spot. They focus so heavily on you they sometimes forget to even try to cum. They may bicker sometimes but when it comes to you and your body they wholy agree that the only right choice is to do whatever it takes to make you feel as good as they can and they have mastered working together on it. They work in complete synchronization, one working your sensitive clit and sucking your nipples while the other sucks on your neck, pumping his fingers in and out of you at the perfect speed, his fingers curled to hit just the right spot to drive you crazy. Something you really enjoy is how willing they are to explore new things either you, wether its a new position, a new toy, or a new fantasy. They will do anything to make their sweet girl feel good.

[sleepyhoon]

THREE WEEKS & THREE DAYS - P.SH

pairing. best friend's ex!sunghoon x reader

genre. best friend's ex au, halloween au, smut, angst (if you squint).

word count. 12.2k+

warnings. alcohol consumption, drug usage, partying, driving under the influence, toxic relationships, themes of divorce, brief mention of physical abuse, smut [car sex, use of handcuffs, oral, praise kink/dirty talk, creampie]

summary. a stressful night at a Halloween party has you seeking comfort from the last person you should be involved with — your best friend's ex.

a/n. HIGHLY HIGHLY inspired by season 2 episode 1 of euphoria! this is a work of pure fiction and is NOT a reflection of how i view the members. despite writing this story, i DO NOT condone the dangerous choices the characters in this fic make and DO NOT encourage others to do so! read at your own discretion.  also, very special thanks to @zreamy for beta-reading this for me!!

When you were six, you spent Halloween night lying on a hospital bed dressed as Hannah Montana.

Everything happened so fast; one moment, you were trick-or-treating with your father and younger sister while scarfing down a Snickers bar for the first time (a king-sized one at that), and the next, your dad was rushing you to the hospital in a panic, tears in his eyes as he encouraged you to stay awake in the backseat.

By the time you’d arrived at the hospital, your body had gone completely limp, and your father struggled to carry both you and your younger sister into the hospital lobby. From what you can remember, it was like a scene from a movie: seeing your dad cry for the first time, being wheeled into an unfamiliar bright room on a mobile bed, all while dressed as your favorite popstar.

The scariest part of the night was shortly after arriving at the hospital and catching a glimpse of your reflection, not recognizing the person staring back at you. The blonde wig and blue eye contacts were to be expected, but the swollen face and half-lidded eyes were another. Had you been able to breathe (let alone talk), you likely would’ve given your sister a classic Halloween jumpscare.

Your mother had arrived only a few minutes after you did, yelling at your father loud enough to have the hospital staff threaten to kick her out. “You forgot she was allergic to peanuts?! Where was her fucking EpiPen?!”

Your dad sighed, running a hand across his face, “I forgot to pick it up. I’ve been busy with…you know.”

She scoffs, “You don’t think I’ve been busy too?! Especially now that we have to meet with the divorce lawyer once a week?!”

Your ears perk up at that, “Divorce?”

You hadn’t known much about the true meaning of divorce, except that it’s something your friend’s parents had gone through, and now he gets two of everything. Two birthdays, two Christmases, two lives. So simple yet so perfect, what child wouldn’t dream of that?

Your parents, who hadn’t even known you were awake, silence themselves immediately. Tears quickly form in your mother’s eyes as she realizes they’d been caught, trying their best to keep the news of their divorce as quiet as possible, waiting for the right moment to explain to you and your sister, Yuna, the real meaning of it, and how different your lives would be.

It dawns on them that there’s no point trying to keep this secret any longer. You were a smart kid, it was probably only a matter of time before you found out on your own, anyway. 

All in one night, you managed to survive a near-death experience, only to be followed by the news of your parents’ divorce. And somehow, at twenty-three years old, watching Lee Heeseung flirt with random girls at a Halloween party is much worse than everything you experienced that cursed night in 2007.

“Can you at least pretend that you’re having a good time?!” You can barely hear Minjeong over how loud the music is, her words fading in and out as you take a sip from your cup.

“I am having a good time, isn’t it obvious?” you reply, showing Minjeong your best fake smile.

Grinning, Minjeong shakes her head at you. “Not at all. Here, need a refill?”

Without waiting for your response, Minjeong hops off the kitchen counter and snatches the red solo cup in your hand. You don’t bother protesting, sighing as you rest your weight against the marble countertop, while she adds a mix of different ingredients to your cup.

When she’s not looking, you tilt your head in the direction of the living room, hoping to get a glance at Heeseung through the sea of drunken college students.

The only word that can be used to describe your relationship with Heeseung is ‘unfortunate’. You were together for six months, and spent most of the time fighting, making up, and having sex. It was a relentless, tiresome cycle you allowed yourself to succumb to just for the sake of not having to be alone.

Most of the arguments would start with you questioning Heeseung’s loyalty, growing suspicious upon seeing his username pop up in the likes section of random girls on social media. In hindsight, it seems like a silly thing to get upset over. The entire purpose of social media was to connect and interact with others anyway, but, why was it always girls? And why would these girls suddenly start watching your stories?

Breaking up with him was harder than you could’ve imagined, and you’re sure you wouldn’t have been able to do it without Minjeong by your side, encouraging you through the entire process. 

The aftermath was embarrassingly excruciating. For two weeks, you locked yourself in your bedroom and fell into a cycle of sleeping and crying, occasionally taking breaks to eat or use the restroom. At one point, your phone spent a full forty-eight hours without being turned on at all, causing your loved ones to panic upon not being able to get ahold of you.

Slowly but surely you managed to build yourself back up, finally starting to feel like your old self when Heeseung suggested the two of you get back together.

You were hesitant, of course, telling Heeseung you were willing to work things out if he can prove to you he’s changed and ready to be the loyal, doting boyfriend he should’ve been from the start.

So no, you’re not together. But you’re also not not together. It’s confusing.

A football player is blocking your view of Heeseung (dressed as a cowboy), you have to stand on your tip-toes to catch a glimpse of him talking to — wait, who is that?

“Patrick would not stand for this.” Minjeong interrupts your thoughts, poking fun at your costume choice of a female Patrick Bateman.

You shrug, pretending to act clueless. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

Minjeong rolls her eyes, shoving your cup back into your hand “Sure, you weren’t. Come on, cheers with me.”

“To what?” you ask, suspiciously eyeing the drink she’s just handed you. Minjeong isn’t that great of a cook, so you can imagine she’s not the best bartender either. In fact, it’d be best if she stayed far away from any sort of kitchen appliance.

She thinks for a moment then excitedly extends her cup out to you. “To getting over our shitty ex-boyfriends!”

Minjeong’s ex was Park Sunghoon, they dated on and off for a year and a half before calling it quits over the summer. You don’t remember the exact reason why they broke up, there were many different factors. It didn’t matter, they were bad for each other anyway and the relationship was entirely too toxic for either of their wellbeing. 

You don’t know much about Sunghoon aside from the things Minjeong felt comfortable enough to share with you and the fact that he is on the university’s hockey team with Heeseung. You’ve probably had a handful of conversations and interactions with Sunghoon in the entire time of knowing him, and are more than happy with things staying that way.

Holding your cup up high, you match Minjeong’s smile and tap your cup against hers. “To getting over our ex-boyfriends!”

The drink is disgusting. You quickly turn away so you don’t hurt your best friend’s feelings by gagging at the taste. She manages to down her entire cup while you make quick work of pouring a majority of yours down the sink behind you.

Minjeong stares down at her empty cup with wide eyes, licking the remains off her plump lips. “Holy shit, that was so good. Do you want more? I’m gonna make myself another cup.”

“I’m good for now, thanks,” you say, snatching your cup away when she reaches for it. Minjeong raises a brow at you, and you follow up with, “I should wait before having another drink.”

She nods understandingly, and you give yourself a mental pat on the back for coming up with that so quickly.

While she’s occupied with making another drink, your eyes trail back over towards Heeseung. The football player from earlier is gone, and now that your view is no longer obstructed, you watch in confusion as Heeseung now has this mystery girl by the waist, leaning his head down close to her lips as she whispers something in his ear.

This really is worse than Halloween 2007.

“Hey.” You tap Minjeong’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

She follows your line of sight, scowling when it lands on Heeseung. “YN, don’t make a big deal out of this. You guys technically aren’t even together.”

“Relax, I’m just going to say hi.” You assure her, moving to head towards Heeseung when Minjeong stops you with a hand on your chest. “Think about this, please.”

You sigh, using your free hand to clutch hers and slowly bring it down from your chest. “I’ll be fine. Be back soon so we can dance, okay?”

Minjeong knows she won’t be able to stop you once your mind is made up, all she can do is sigh and wish you the best as you make a beeline for your ex. Maybe not the greatest idea on your part, but you’re too tipsy to think rationally.

Heeseung doesn’t notice you when you first approach, it takes the mystery girl awkwardly gesturing in your direction for him to finally look over at you, immediately dropping his hand from the girl’s waist. “YN!” He shouts, a little too excitedly, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

A few minutes later, you find yourself in an unfamiliar bedroom with Heeseung on step one of your toxic cycle — arguing.

“You’re overreacting,” Heeseung claims. “We were just talking.”

“About what, Heeseung? Why did you have to hold her by the fucking waist to talk to her?”

“Because! She was drunk! I was holding her up so she wouldn’t fall and hurt herself!”

“Who gives a shit if she falls? She’s not your fucking girlfriend.”

“Yeah, well, neither are you.” 

His words shouldn’t hurt as much as they do because he’s right; despite trying to work on things, you aren’t his girlfriend. You were the one who said you weren’t ready to get back together, not him. You shouldn’t be upset with him for talking to other girls.

And yet, here you are with tears in your eyes. 

You nod silently, avoiding his gaze as a lump forms in your throat. 

Heeseung must realize how much his words have affected you if the way he curses at himself, and shamefully runs a hand across his face is anything to go by. “Listen, I’m sor-”

“Don’t bother.” You stand from the bed, holding back a sob.“Everything about this was a mistake. You’ll never change.”

Heeseung reaches a hand out to grab your arm as you push past him. “YN, I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, Heeseung, you did mean it,” you say, pulling the bedroom door open.

There is no point in trying to reason with Heeseung. You know in a matter of time he’ll apologize, you’ll accept it like you always do, have make-up sex, then lecture him about how important it is that he changes before you can consider getting back together. Another endless cycle you’ve fallen into.

Stepping back into the party, you head in the opposite direction of where Minjeong would be, not wanting to run into her in your current state and bump right into someone dressed as Spiderman, causing the little remains of your drink to spill over and knock to the ground. You’re grateful that a crucial part of Patrick Bateman’s costume involved a plastic raincoat, or else your outfit would have suffered a dark blue stain.

“Oh my God, YN! I’m so sorry!” Spider-Man apologizes with a thick Australian accent.

“Jake?” You question, gesturing for him to take the mask off.

He follows your command, face bright red from embarrassment or alcohol. Probably both.

“Yeah, haha, hey. Really sorry about that, I can get you a new drink.” Jake turns in the direction of the kitchen before you stop him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fine, Jake. Do you know where the bathroom is?”

Jake thinks for a moment, scratching at the small amount of stubble that’s graced his chin. He really does make a perfect Spider-Man, and if you weren’t so upset, you probably would’ve stayed and told him that.

“Upstairs, all the way down the hall. Wait! It’s occupied, people are doing coke in there, I think.”

Great.

You sigh. “Do you know if there’s another one I can use?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s one.” Jake turns, pointing to a door at the end of the hallway. “Right there. I saw a few people come in and out.”

Thanking Jake, you follow his direction and head to the door at the end of the hallway.

It’s a garage, not a bathroom. But, as long as you get a moment alone, you don’t really care where you are.

After shutting the door behind you, you sit on top of a washing machine and flinch at the cold metal sending chills down your thighs.

You shouldn’t have come out tonight, you don’t even care about Halloween to begin with. It’s an overrated holiday, you wish you would’ve convinced Minjeong to stay in with you and have a classic horror movie marathon while eating takeout and pausing to hand out (peanut-free) candy to trick-or-treaters.

Though, you’re sure you still would’ve spent the better half of the night obsessively tapping through Heeseung’s Instagram stories or trying to spot him in the background of someone else’s. It was a lose-lose situation no matter what, and you find yourself wondering if there’s an end to this unhealthy cycle.

Despite being so young when it happened, you’re sure your parents’ divorce obstructed your view of love and how a healthy adult relationship should work. Your father went on to have short-lived relationships with younger women who were using him for his money, while your mother remained single and chose to criticize her ex-husband’s current lifestyle choices. They couldn’t even co-parent in peace, always making petty comments to the other during drop-offs and pick-ups, finding any and every little thing to start arguing about.

One time in particular, after spending the weekend at your father’s house, your mother slapped him in a Dairy Queen parking lot upon realizing his new girlfriend had taken you and your sister to get your ears pierced. You didn’t actually see the slap happen, but it was loud enough to echo through the empty parking lot and hard enough to leave a red mark on his face.

The memory has tears forming in your eyes for the umpteenth time tonight, but before any of them have the chance to trickle down, the garage door swings open.

You turn, and Park Sunghoon (dressed as a police officer) is staring back at you with a confused look on his face. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before pointing in the direction of the party. “Uh, Jake said this was the bathroom.”

Shaking your head, you offer him a small smile. “No, the bathroom’s upstairs but it’s being used. If you really have to go, I’m pretty sure that door leads to the backyard.” You nod your head in the direction of the other door, and Sunghoon picks up on what you’re implying.

He thanks you before jogging over to the exit, setting his cup down on a metal dog crate before turning the knob and pushing open the door.

Sunghoon stands far enough out of frame that you only see a portion of his backside, and once the sound of him pissing on the grass hits your ears, you wonder why he didn’t bother to close the door in the first place.

Men.

He clears his throat awkwardly, “So, you s–”

You cut him off. “Let’s just wait until you’re done, please.”

Sunghoon nods, mumbling, “Right, right.”

He finishes up a few seconds later, zipping his pants back up and properly adjusting himself before returning to the garage, closing the door behind him and picking his drink back up in the process. “So, I’m guessing you’re…upset because of Heeseung?”

You let out a sad chuckle that sounds more like a sob. “Lucky guess. He’s just so fucking confusing, I can’t take it.”

“You’ll be alright,” Sunghoon responds, slipping his phone from his pants pocket and unlocking it. “Heeseung’s a douchebag.”

This catches you off guard, and you’re laughing before you even realize it. “Isn’t he your friend?”

Sunghoon shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at his phone as he scrolls. “Not really. We don’t talk much if it isn’t related to hockey or school.”

A beat of silence passes, then you ask, “When Heeseung and I were together, did he mention anything about cheating on me? Or talking to other girls?”

Sunghoon glances up at you for a split second, taking in how sad and hopeful you look before returning his gaze to the weather app he’d been using to distract himself.

He wasn’t sure if Heeseung went as far as physically cheating on you, but he was definitely talking to other girls behind your back; proudly showing the hockey team countless nudes and vulgar photos they would send him, some of them coming from your own friends. 

Sunghoon can’t tell you this, you’re upset enough as it is.

“I wouldn’t know, I always tuned him out whenever he talked.”

Though he’s not sure what answer you were hoping for, Sunghoon can tell you’re a little disappointed by his response. Truthfully, he didn’t feel like getting involved in anyone else’s drama. If you wanted clarity from Heeseung, you should’ve gone straight to the source.

“Sorry,” you apologize, feeling slightly embarrassed that you probably made things awkward, “have you seen Minjeong?”

Your attempt to change the subject seems to work, because Sunghoon scoffs loudly at your question and shoves his phone back in his pocket. “Have I seen the girl that just spent ten minutes yelling at me? Yeah, we may have crossed paths.” He says sarcastically, shaking his head before taking a sip of his drink.

“Yell at you? For what?”

“She fuckin’…I guess before we broke up she said I should dress up as a cop for Halloween and I must’ve said no, and now she’s saying I only dressed up like this,” he gestures towards himself, “to spite her. Fuckin’ insanity.”

“Well, did you?” You can’t help but ask, Minjeong would always go on for hours about how spiteful of a person Sunghoon was.

He shrugs, mindlessly tracing the rim of the red solo cup with his pointer finger, “Maybe, but this is all that was left in my size at the party store.”

You’re surprised Sunghoon makes you laugh as much as he does, and maybe that’s a bad thing since it’s making you enjoy talking to him. Though he technically isn’t your enemy, he’s definitely not a person you should enjoy having a conversation with. It’s not appropriate, he’s the ex boyfriend of your best friend; all your ties to him were cut the moment Minjeong broke up with him.

You should tell him to leave, that you’re really upset over Heeseung and prefer to be alone, but you don’t. Instead, you keep the conversation going, laughing every joke he makes and completely forgetting why you were upset to begin with.

Halfway through telling Sunghoon about the horrid drink Minjeong had prepared for you, your legs grow numb from having been sat on for so long. You untuck them from underneath your body, not thinking much of it as you continue on with the story, legs dangling against the cold washing machine.

Sunghoon takes notice, though, his eyes quickly darting down to the space between your legs and the white fabric that’s suddenly visible to him due to the short length of your skirt. You miss it the first time he does it, but the second and third time are hard to ignore, especially now that he doesn’t seem to mind being caught.

You really should cross your legs or call him out on his staring. Or maybe even get up and leave entirely.

To no one’s surprise you don’t do either of those things and opt to keep your panties visible enough for Sunghoon to see while you continue to talk his ear off about his ex-girlfriend. There’s something unspoken happening between the two of you, and it’s exciting yet confusing since this is the longest conversation you’ve had with him in the two years you’ve known each other. 

The strangest part of it all is that you’re just now realizing how attractive Sunghoon is, Sure, he’d always been a good looking guy, but you’d always seen him as Minjeong’s property and never paid much attention to his face out of respect for her.

But Minjeong no longer has a claim on him, and now you really notice the perfectly placed moles that graced the side of his nose and under his eye. He really was a sight to behold, you often find yourself stumbling over your words as you speak to him, becoming flustered over the intensity of the eye contact he’d been making with you.

“…my throat is still burning and it’s been, like, twenty minutes.” You say with a laugh, watching as Sunghoon finishes off his own drink.

He sets the empty cup down, licking the remaining alcohol on his lips before smacking them, “Yeah, I wouldn’t trust her in a kitchen. I’m not that good either, though. There was this one time I had to make brownies for our hockey team’s bake sale and they turned out awful. It’s like, half of them were watery and the other half were burnt. So weird.”

“That doesn’t even sound possible.”

“I’m serious! Hold on, I probably have a picture.” 

It takes Sunghoon approximately forty-five seconds of scrolling through his Snapchat memories to find a photo of those godforsaken brownies, and sure enough, they really are a watery, burnt mess. Not that you can even focus on the picture to begin with now that he’s sitting next to you on the washing machine, and you’re finally able to see him up close.

Sunghoon’s words go in one ear and out the other, because now you’re close enough to smell the cologne he’s dabbed on the back of his neck, and notice the metal handcuffs hooked in his belt loop, and it makes it hard to focus on anything else. Especially his uninteresting story about those stupid fucking brownies.

When Sunghoon locks his phone, you take it as a sign that he’s finished with his story and let out another laugh, “Not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he jokes, slightly slurring his words. 

Maybe it’s the fact that his voice sounds deeper than usual, or that he’s staring right at you with half lidded eyes, or that he's started playing with the handcuffs on his waist, but Sunghoon looks dangerously attractive right now. 

You gulp, looking down at your lap, “Well, at least one of us had a nice drink.”

Sunghoon nods, running his fingernails along your plastic raincoat, “Wanna taste mine?” He asks, eyes darting down to your lips for a split second.

If there was ever a time to get up and leave, it should’ve been now. The rational part of your brain is telling you to push Sunghoon away and return to the party and forget this encounter with him ever happened. But you can’t move, and if you’re being honest, you don’t even want to.

You’re stuck in place, heart beating out of your chest as Sunghoon leans in closer to you. You feel dizzy in the best way possible, and a part of you feels sick for enjoying the moment as much as you do. 

His breath fans your cheek, and the faint scent of alcohol on it should’ve been enough to remind you that you shouldn’t be in this situation with him. Still, you don’t move.

Right before Sunghoon has the chance to kiss you, the door swings open and you jolt away from each other out of shock, clutching your chest as you watch Jake jog into the garage.

“You guys seen my vape?” he asks, a little out of breath.

“I…no, Jake. Why would it be in the garage?” Sunghoon asks, hopping down from the washing machine. He offers a hand to help you down and you ignore it, finally starting to come back to your senses.

“Dude, I don’t fucking know! It was just in my pocket and now it’s gone, it could be anywhere. Help me look!”

Spending your night in a garage helping Jake look for a strawberry-flavored vape doesn’t sound ideal in the slightest; now is the perfect time to leave.

Heading in the direction of the party, you pause when Sunghoon calls out your name, a slight shakiness to his voice. “Keep an eye out for me, yeah?”

Another beat of silence passes, then you nod and say, “Yeah.”

In your defense, there’s nothing to feel guilty over. All you did was have a conversation with Sunghoon, and keeping an eye out for him doesn’t necessarily mean anything else will happen, right?

You try not to think too much about it as you exit the garage, holding in a laugh when Sunghoon says something along the lines of, “You’re a grown ass man, Jake.”

What Minjeong lacks in cooking, she makes up for in dancing.

While you wouldn’t consider yourself to be on her level of dancing, you’d say you’re good enough to keep up with her at a crowded party. If swaying to the music, holding hands, and grinding on each other counts as dancing, that is.

“You’re too stiff; loosen up, babe,” she comments, fingers interlocked with yours.

“Sorry,” you reply, slightly frustrated since you don’t feel like dancing in the first place. “What were you saying?”

“Oh, yeah!” Minjeong turns to face you, moving your arms to drape them around her shoulders. “Then he said I was being crazy, and that he only got the costume because it was all that was left in his size, as if I believe that.”

“Sorry that happened,” you say, and it comes out more sarcastic than you had intended it to. 

Minjeong takes notice of this, raising a brow at you before slipping her arms under your raincoat and pulling you closer to her. “You okay?”

The two of you are pressed so close up against each other that it almost feels romantic, and you’re sure if there was another drink in your system you’d probably lean in and kiss her. 

You nod. “Just thinking about Heeseung.”

Fake offended, Minjeong’s jaw drops. “You’re dancing with the hottest girl at this party, and all you can think about is your ex? I’m hurt, YN.”

Truth be told, her ex was the one you were thinking about, certainly not your own.

Not a whole lot of time has passed since you left Sunghoon in the garage, but you make sure to keep your promise of keeping an eye out for him upon returning to the party. You’re certain that on the outside you probably look panicked and frantic, eyes darting all over the place for any sign of Sunghoon.

“Well,” Minjeong starts, tugging on your tie. “Since you’re thinking about your ex, it’s only fair that I think of mine; and there he is.”

You stop yourself from excitedly shouting, “Where?!” and watch as Minjeong subtly nods towards the staircase.

Sure enough, Sunghoon is leaning against the banister, eyes zeroing in on you with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“He’s been watching me for, like, ten minutes. Probably wants to see if you and I will make out, fucking pervert,” she says, rolling her eyes.

Minjeong has it wrong, Sunghoon has been watching you for the past ten minutes. Ever since he finished helping Jake find that stupid vape, he’s had his sights set on you and you only.

That other part was probably true, though.

You swallow the lump in your throat and say, “Such a pervert.” It comes out a tad more robotic than you were going for, but you tried your best. 

Once Sunghoon is sure that Minjeong is distracted, he mouths, “Bathroom,” before immediately turning around and jogging up the steps.

Fuck, are you really about to do this? 

Your eyes dart from Minjeong to the staircase, and you can’t believe you’re even considering going upstairs to meet her ex. Everything about this predicament is sick and twisted and perfectly on brand for Halloween. 

But, somehow, it’s not sick enough to stop you.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna get some air; I’m feeling kinda dizzy,” you lie, hoping it’s believable enough.

Minjeong stops dancing immediately, a look of genuine concern on her face. “Here, I’ll come with you.”

“No, no. You keep having fun, I’ll be back soon. Make another drink for me, okay? I’m sure I’ll need it,” you assure her with a smile, taking her hands into yours.

“Fine, I’ll be here. But the only drink I’m making for you is a Ginger Ale.”

Thank God.

After giving Minjeong a kiss on the cheek (feeling guilty as ever), you slip past her and head towards the direction of the backyard. Once Minjeong is fully out of sight, you switch paths and sprint up the staircase, bumping into and angering a few people along the way. 

You keep your head down once you reach the second floor, speed walking to the end of the hallway and avoiding eye contact with everyone you walk by until you reach the bathroom.

The door is closed and locked, of course, and that’s when it dawns on you that this could be one big, elaborate prank from Sunghoon. You could open the door and be met with a camera in your face with Sunghoon recording, laughing maniacally before mentioning something about telling Minjeong everything and that he stayed loyal to her the entire time.

Unfortunately for you, even that possibility doesn’t scare you away from knocking on the door and saying, “It’s me, YN.”

The knob twists before the door is pushed open, barely enough room to slide in discreetly, but you manage anyway.

Using your body weight to press the door shut, Sunghoon reaches behind you to make sure it’s locked. “You really came.”

You hate that he sounds shocked, as if he had some faith that you wouldn’t risk your friendship with Minjeong for a few minutes with him, of all people. He’s not even your type.

“Don’t make a big deal out of this.”

Sunghoon scoffs as if you’ve said the most obvious thing in the world. “Trust me, I won’t.”

You don’t have time to overthink the meaning of his words because before you can even realize it, Sunghoon is pushing you further up against the door, and he’s kissing you, finally kissing you.

This kiss is everything but soft, and it knocks the wind out of you. Sunghoon’s hand cups your jaw, tilting your head sideways to allow himself further into your mouth. It’s wet and sloppy, you’re certain that dancing with Minjeong was far more romantic than this. You kiss back anyway, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and grabbing a fistful of his hair, shivers running down your spine when he groans into your mouth. Without breaking the kiss, Sunghoon reaches down to slip the raincoat off of you, pressing your body closer against him to ease it off. 

He pulls away slowly, his blown-out eyes focused on the string of saliva that connects your mouths to one another. “Fuck,” he groans at the sight, moving his mouth to kiss along your jaw.

You let out a moan when you feel his tongue slide against a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, tilting your head back against the door. Sunghoon takes notice of this, focusing his attention on that same spot, sucking on it hard enough to leave a mark before teasingly scraping his canines along the area.

Quickly, your fingers move to unbutton your shirt, suddenly feeling warm all over. You’re only halfway done when there’s a sudden banging on the other side of the door, startling you enough to halt your movements.

“Ignore it,” Sunghoon mutters against your neck. “They’ll go away.”

They don’t go away, they actually start to bang louder and harder once a few seconds pass.

Sunghoon lets out a frustrated sigh, lifting his head away from you, “Occupied!”

“Sunghoon?” You hear Minjeong’s voice on the other side of the door, causing you and Sunghoon both to freeze.

“M-Minjeong?” He stutters.

“I have to piss,” Minjeong whines, messing with the doorknob. “Hurry up!”

Sunghoon must sense your panic and the fact that you feel like bursting into loud sobs, because he places his hand over your mouth before mouthing for you to stay quiet.

Minjeong doesn’t let up on trying to open the door, and you’re sure that with just enough force, she could probably get it open.

“I’m using it! Can’t you just go outside?”

“I’m a fucking girl, Sunghoon. Just hurry up and finish.”

“Just…just hold on a second, Minnie.”

Minnie? Fuck is that about?

Sunghoon pulls you away from the door, keeping his voice and movements as low as possible. “You’re gonna have to hide in the bathtub, just lay down flat and wait for her to leave.”

“What?! What if she sees me?!” You whisper, silently praying Minjeong can’t hear you over the music.

“She won’t, okay? I’ll pull the shower curtain back. It’s the only option we have right now unless you want to jump out the window.”

You shake your head. “There has to be a better idea.”

On the other side of the door, Minjeong begins to grow impatient, anxiously tapping her foot against the floor. She’s had three full drinks and is on the verge of busting the bathroom door down if Sunghoon doesn’t open it soon. She focuses her gaze downward, raising a brow at a piece of plastic that’s been slightly pushed under the crack of the door. What is it? A shower curtain? It can’t be, why would the shower curtain be on the floor? It looks more like…

“Fuck! The cops!” A drunk voice yells before the entire house panics, sirens and flashing blue and red lights fill the house.

Inside the bathroom, Sunghoon had still been trying to convince you to lay down in the bathtub when even more panic sets in.

Minjeong bangs on the door one last time. “Sunghoon, the cops are here, you need to leave! Fuck, I gotta find YN!” She yells before taking off down the hall.

Police officers are raiding the house, and all Minjeong can focus on is finding you and making sure you're okay, while you were seconds away from hooking up with her ex. What a fucking nightmare.

“We gotta jump out the window,” Sunghoon says, hurrying over to the other side of the bathroom and forcing the window open.

“What?! Why?!”

“People are doing fucking illegal drugs at this party, YN, and now the fucking cops are here. My dad works for the city and if-” He pauses to grunt, struggling to get the window all the way open. “-news spreads that his son was at a house party that was full of people doing fucking cocaine his career will be fucking over. Fuck!”

This doesn’t explain why you have to jump out of the window with him, but you narrow it down to the possibility of Sunghoon just wanting to be around you for a little longer. And as pathetic as it sounds, you find yourself smiling at the possibility.

Sunghoon finally gets the window fully open, quickly hiking one leg over. “It’s not that far of a jump, we’ll be fine. I’ll go first then let you know when to jump.”

“You’ll catch me?” you ask, buttoning your shirt back up. Now that the raincoat is gone, you probably resemble a perverted schoolgirl costume.

Sunghoon sighs. “Yes, YN, I am going to catch you. Just be ready to run, my car’s down the street.”

He doesn’t give you any time to protest before hiking his other leg out the window and jumping down; you watch in horror as he lands face down. If it weren’t for your current predicament, you’re sure you would’ve gotten the ick.

It takes Sunghoon a few seconds to get back up, brushing himself off before standing, “Come on! Hurry!”

Despite your hesitancy, you follow Sunghoon’s action and hike a leg out of the window, staring down at him. “Are you sure about this?!”

“If you want me to catch you, you better jump now!”

Halloween fucking sucks.

You swear to yourself as you hike your other leg out of the window, saying a quick prayer as you brace yourself to jump.

Sunghoon doesn’t exactly catch you, but he does brace your fall, which is good enough for you. 

He groans in pain from the impact as you stand and dust yourself off, reaching a hand down to help him up. “Sorry!”

Sunghoon stands, feeling a tad bit dizzy and lightheaded. “Just follow me.”

It isn’t too late to turn around and find Minjeong and just leave with her. In fact, it’d be the morally correct thing to do in this situation. Not that you seem to care for morals.

You make a mental note to send Minjeong a text later as you run after Sunghoon.

Sunghoon is not that great of a driver, but this doesn't surprise you.

He's still somewhat tipsy, occasionally swerving along the empty back roads.

What makes it worse is that Minjeong has been calling and texting you nonstop, your phone practically burning a hole in your pocket as you ignore her relentless attempts.

Sunghoon is trying his hardest to stay focused on the road, but your phone ringing every few minutes was really starting to irritate him. "Just fucking answer her," he says, shaking his head.

"And say what? That I'm with you?"

Sunghoon isn't too pleased with your sarcasm and rolls his eyes, "Obviously not, YN; just do something to make her stop panicking."

That's way easier said than done, especially considering that you can barely even think about Minjeong without wanting to burst into tears. The guilt has already started to set in, and it has you questioning yourself and your morals.

You can't talk to Minjeong; it's too risky, but you can call your sister and ask her to cover for you.

Slipping your phone from your pocket, you force your eyes to unfocus and ignore the string of missed calls and messages from Minjeong, dialing your sister's phone number with trembling hands.

As always, Yuna answers on the fourth ring, sighing loudly into the phone before greeting you with a monotonous, "Hello?"

"Hey, um, I need you to help me with something," you keep your voice low, not wanting Sunghoon to hear your conversation despite being right next to him.

Yuna sighs again, "With what, YN?"

"The party I was at got raided by the cops, and we all ran, so if Minjeong calls you, I need you to tell her I'm with you," you say, your eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets when Sunghoon makes a sudden sharp turn.

"Sorry," he mutters under his breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

You hate that even now, you find him cute.

"Well, where are you?" Yuna asks, snapping you back to reality.

"I… it's not important, just please do me this favor."

Your sister scoffs, "You expect me to lie for you, and you can't even tell me the full story?"

"The full story isn't important, Yuna."

"Clearly, it is if you're asking me to lie to your best friend."

"Just tell her," Sunghoon groans, sounding slightly annoyed, "but make sure she doesn't tell anyone else."

Yuna doesn't have many friends, and the few she does have wouldn't even care about your drama, so it's not like she'd have anyone to share your business with. You hesitate anyway because of the principle of the situation, how just ten minutes ago you were unbuttoning your shirt for your best friend's ex. Maybe you're starting to come back to your senses because replaying the scene in your head has you cringing from embarrassment.

You lean your head against the window and squeeze your eyes shut, "I'm with Sunghoon."

The line goes silent for a few seconds, and you're worried you may have lost service from driving in such a rural area until Yuna sighs for a third time, "The pretty ones are never that bright."

"I swear it isn't like that," you plead, "just, please, help me out."

"And what will I get out of this?"

Of course, she wants something, classic younger sibling bullshit.

"Well, what do you want?"

"I don't know…a normal older sister?"

"Yuna, I don't have time for this, will you help me or not?"

Bickering with Yuna was starting to give you a headache; you were seconds away from hanging up and coming up with a new plan entirely.

"After tonight, don't involve me in this anymore; I have my own shit to deal with."

You hold back a laugh at that as if Yuna does anything other than stay home and talk to the same two people. "I won't, I swear. I'll text you when I'm close to being home; let me know if Minjeong reaches out to you."

"Whatever, just get home safe and don't do anything else stupid," Yuna says through a yawn before immediately hanging up, not giving you the chance to say goodbye.

As much as you loved your sister, the two of you weren't exactly close. The divide started sometime during high school; your interests and friend groups never really aligned and only led you to stray further away from each other.

You being fairly well-known within your high school didn't help much, either. Countless random students would approach Yuna on the daily, asking if you were seeing anyone, begging her for your number, or even giving her small gifts and treats to pass along to you. 

What annoyed her the most was that they never called her by her name, in their eyes, she was always known as "YN's sister", and nothing more than that.

You're sure Yuna doesn't hate you because of it, but it certainly didn't make her very fond of you.

"What'd she say?" Sunghoon asks, interrupting your thoughts.

"She agreed to cover for me tonight," you respond, gazing out the window, "pretty sure she's pissed, though."

"She'll get over it," Sunghoon taps the navigation system on his dashboard, "type in your address."

Despite making you jump out of a bathroom window, Sunghoon technically doesn't owe you anything. He never claimed he'd bring you back to his place to finish what you started; you quite literally only jumped because he told you to, under the pretense that maybe — just maybe — he'd want to hook up with you. 

Clearly, that wasn't happening, at least not tonight. Having to jump out the window and then proceed to drive while tipsy must've knocked some sense into him, making him realize he'd been making way too many questionable choices all in one night. 

You let out a disappointed sigh, hesitantly reaching out to type your home address into the car's GPS. The system buffers for a few seconds as it calculates the quickest route to your home before displaying an estimated travel time of thirty-eight minutes.

"Forty fucking minutes?!" Sunghoon shouts, causing you to jump. 

He sighs, cursing under his breath before reaching forward and ending the navigation route. You sit up further in the seat, ready to ask Sunghoon what he's plotting before he starts typing "7/11".

You raise a brow at this, "Why're we going there?"

Sunghoon gestures towards the navigation system as if the answer is obvious, "Your house is forty minutes away, and I'm still kinda tipsy; I'm gonna need to pull over and get something other than alcohol in my system if I'm gonna be driving for that long." There's a slight slur to his words that had you weary about him driving, so pulling over to recharge isn't a bad idea.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Sunghoon managed to safely drive the two of you to the nearest 7/11, opting to pay seventeen dollars to park in a parking garage down the street instead of the shop's personal lot.

"This neighborhood isn't that safe; I don't want anyone breaking into my car," he claims, taking up two spots as he parks in the most secluded corner possible.

The neighborhood is fairly safe; he was just being dramatic.

The walk down the street is quick and slightly awkward, with you and Sunghoon stumbling every few steps yet refusing to hold onto the other for stability.

The two of you go your separate ways upon entering the shop, Sunghoon headed straight towards the snack aisle while you make your way to the slurpee machines. The difference in your priorities was humorous, with him wanting to focus on building up energy and you wanting nothing more than a quick sugar fix.

Blue raspberry isn't necessarily your go-to flavor, but it's the only flavor on the Slurpee machine that's currently working, so you fill your plastic cup to the brim before absentmindedly reaching for a straw.

Sunghoon is still prancing around the store by the time you've finished making your drink, and despite not being that hungry, you decide to kill time by strolling through the snack aisles.

The Snickers bars and Reese's Cups look tempting as always, but you refrain, sighing as you look over the selection of peanut-contaminated candy.

"Don't even bother," Sunghoon says from behind you, causing you to gasp in shock. 

He pauses for a moment, staring at the array of snacks before grabbing a pack of Skittles and walking off.

The thought of Sunghoon being aware of your peanut allergy is as comforting as it is strange. You can't imagine this is something Minjeong randomly decided to tell him, and even if that is the case, why would he bother retaining that information? It's not like the two of you are friends.

Whatever, you're probably thinking about it too much.

After deciding on a package of powdered mini donuts and Haribo gummy bears, you proceed to the checkout counter and set your items down, looking over your shoulder at Sunghoon, who was selecting the last of his items.

The man behind the counter smiles at you, typing his employee ID number into the cash register, "How's your night going?"

"Horrible," you say, making the clerk laugh even though you weren't joking.

"Sorry to hear that," he responds, scanning your items, "your total came out to…$6.12. Oh, hello, officer."

Despite not having done anything wrong, you nearly panic before remembering Sunghoon's unfortunate costume choice.

He nods at the man, setting his own items down on the counter, "Add these too. You guys take Apple Pay?" He asks, unlocking his phone.

"Oh, you don't have to pay for mine," you say, a nervous tremble in your voice.

Sunghoon shrugs, "No big deal."

Except it is a big deal. Sunghoon behaving like a boyfriend gentleman by paying for your items only made you like him even more, which is the exact opposite of what you need right now.

You sigh, taking a literal and metaphorical step back as Sunghoon taps his phone on the card reader. 

"A cop and a schoolgirl, huh? These couple's costumes are starting to make less and less sense," the employee comments, eyes darting between you and Sunghoon. 

"We're not a couple," Sunghoon responds, a little too quickly for your liking, but whatever.

The employee apologizes, embarrassed about his implications as he bags your items and wishes the two of you a safe trip home.

On the way back to Sunghoon's car, it dawns on you that Minjeong has stopped trying to get ahold of you, which is slightly worrisome considering that she's a person who wouldn't give up that easily. 

Sunghoon climbs into the backseat this time, mumbling something about needing to rest and stretch out before driving you home. He sets the bag down on the center console, grabbing a few of his items before propping himself up against the door.

You do the same, retrieving your own items from the bag before slumping into your seat. 

When you finally unlock your phone, a new voice memo from Yuna is waiting for you. Hesitantly, you hold your phone against your ear and hit play.

Yuna lets out a loud sigh, "So, you and Minjeong must have some sort of, like,  telepathic connection because she called me as soon as I hung up on you. Anyways, I told her our cousin was also at the party and was able to, uh, give you a ride home once the cops came. Oh, and I told her your phone died and that you'd call her, um,  later or in the morning. I'm not sure if she believed it, but she calmed down.

And, by the way, I meant it when I said I don't want to be involved in whatever this is after tonight. So, for everyone's sake, if something serious is going on, do not tell me about it. Get home safe."

You're not entirely sure if you deserve a sister like Yuna, who'd go against her own morals just to cover for you, but you're grateful you have her.

you [11:54 pm] : *you liked a voice memo*

you [11:54 pm] : thanks so much

you [11:55 pm] : i promise i wont involve u anymore. if minnie calls again u can just ignore it and lmk please

yuna [11:56 pm] : oh and she told me to let you know that she's safe. tho im sure that's not your biggest concern :/

Harsh but true.

You set your phone on your lap and tear open your pack of donuts, wiping away the powdered sugar that falls onto your blouse. Much like the blue raspberry slurpee, mini powdered donuts weren't exactly your go-to snack, but your options were limited, and you weren't in the mood to roam around the store any longer.

Suddenly, Sunghoon groans from the backseat and sits up, "Phone died."

Leaning over the center console, he plugs his phone into the car charger right underneath his navigation system, resting it on the dashboard before returning to his seat. 

The car falls silent, and as much as you want to start a conversation, you're not sure where to begin. There's so much you want to ask, but you refrain, biting down on your tongue so hard you're surprised the taste of blood doesn't fill your mouth.

Sunghoon leans forward again, this time resting his cheek on the side of your seat, "What'd you get?" he asks, staring down at your lap.

You turn your head to look at him, holding up the half-eaten pack of donuts for him to see.

"Can I have one?" he asks, already holding his hand out before you could even say yes.

You hand him one regardless, watching the powder fall from the pastry as he pops it into his mouth.

Your curiosity gets the best of you, and you find yourself narrowing your eyes at him as you ask, "Sunghoon, can I ask you something?"

He nods, gesturing towards the remaining donuts in a way that tells you he wants more. You hand him the remaining three, nodding back when he mumbles "Thanks" under his breath.

"How did you know that I'm allergic to peanuts?"

Sunghoon pauses, brows furrowing in utter confusion as he looks up at you, "What do you mean?"

"Earlier in the store, I was looking at the peanut candy, and you told me not to bother. I'm assuming you must've known I'm allergic, right?" You ask, fully turning around in your seat to face him.

"Um…yeah. I know."

"Okay…how?"

"I mean, was it supposed to be a secret or something?"

"What? No, of course not. Allergies are probably the one thing that shouldn't be kept secret," you respond, "I'm just curious about how you know. I don't think I've ever told you, and I can't imagine Minjeong randomly deciding to tell you."

Sunghoon awkwardly scratches the back of his neck as he avoids looking at you. It takes the tips of his ears turning pink for you to realize that he's embarrassed, which only confuses you even further.

Sunghoon shrugs, staring down at the snack you've just given him, "Whenever all of us would hang out, and there was, like, food involved, I just noticed you'd pay so much attention to the ingredients of whatever it was you were eating. At first, I thought it was a calorie thing, but you never really asked about the calories, only the ingredients."

"But, how'd you know it was peanuts specifically?" you ask, feeling embarrassed about how curious you were over something as silly as a peanut allergy.

"Remember the hockey team bake sale? The one I made those terrible brownies for?" He asks, continuing when you nod, "You were there, and I remember how excited you were to try the cookies that Jake made, but right before you bought one, you asked him if there were peanuts in them. That's when I knew."

You can't remember the last time someone had paid this much attention to you, and it's dangerous, considering how easily impressed you are by the smallest things. Sunghoon was by no means a friend of yours; you hardly knew anything about each other and often kept your interactions rather short, so his being able to pick up on your peanut allergy just by watching you was … different. Maybe even nice.

You don't even realize you've been staring at him until he stops chewing and stares back, unblinking.

You look away, retrieving your Slurpee from the cup holder and taking a long sip as Sunghoon watches.

"Can I ask you something now?" he asks.

You don't respond, side-eyeing him as you continue to sip your drink.

Sunghoon smirks, amused by your sudden silence, "Why'd you meet me in the bathroom?"

You pull the straw away from your lips, voice barely above a whisper as you respond, "To see what you wanted."

He nods, taking the cup from your hands, "You knew what I wanted," he says, pausing to take a sip of your drink, "and you still came; why?"

When you don't respond, Sunghoon lets out a loud sigh and sets your cup back down in its holder, "It's okay, YN."

"It isn't."

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. I guess we'll never know, huh?"

This is a test of your morals, and Sunghoon knows this. Every decision you've made tonight has led you to this exact moment. There's still enough time to redeem yourself and make an excuse for your actions. You could easily lie and say that making out with Sunghoon was just a result of being tipsy and vulnerable. But now, with the two of you in his car, sobering up and coming back down to your senses, you won't be able to use those same excuses.

Realistically speaking, what are the chances of your ex's finding out? Heeseung probably wouldn't care, but Minjeong was an entirely different story.

In your defense, they've been officially broken up for three weeks and three days, so you wouldn't technically be hooking up with her boyfriend. Right?

Sunghoon must've sensed the gears turning in your head because, after a few seconds of staring at each other in silence, he leaned over the center console and pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss is softer this time, nothing like how it was in the bathroom as if he's trying to coax you in and convince you it's okay, that you're doing nothing wrong.

You find yourself slipping under his spell, eyes finally fluttering shut as he gently swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. The faint taste of alcohol is still on his tongue, but he does taste much sweeter now, like the blue raspberry slurpee he'd just had. A part of you wonders if he'd done that on purpose as if tasting better would make you enjoy kissing him like this.

He pulls away, scooting farther back into his seat, "C'mere, climb over."

You do as you're told, slipping off your shoes with Sunghoon guiding you right onto his lap as you climb into the backseat. You can't help but squirm on his lap, and he can still sense a slight hesitancy in your actions, the way you shiver when he touches you, how you initially pulled back when he tried to kiss you again.

"You're nervous," he comments, eye flickering across your face.

You shrug, holding onto his shoulders for support, "I can't help it."

Beneath you, Sunghoon reaches down to unclip the handcuffs from his belt loop, "You're making it hard to focus."

"The fuck am I supposed to do, then?!" You didn't mean to shout, but your patience was starting to run thin. You felt guilty enough as it is, and Sunghoon reminding you of how nervous you are certainly didn't make it any better.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, undoing the handcuffs before grabbing your left hand. He tightens the cuff around your wrist, "Just trust me," he says simply. He sits up further in his seat, grabbing your cuffed wrist as he pulls down on the car's grab handle. He slips the empty cuff through the slot before gesturing for you to give him your free hand.

Fuck.

"Sunghoon…"

"Just trust me," he doesn't wait for a response, grabbing your wrist and bringing it up towards the empty cuff. It locks around your wrist with a click, causing him to smile in satisfaction. 

You're sure that with just the right amount of force, you could easily snap the handcuffs in half, but it's the thought that counts. With your arms and hands restricted towards the ceiling, all you can do is stare down at Sunghooon and await his next movement, his very calculated movement.

He presses his cold lips against your neck, simultaneously using his hands to slowly unbutton your blouse. The mark he'd left on your neck earlier was as prominent as ever, and it pleased him to know you were okay with him marking you up like this. He swipes his tongue against the sensitive spot, hardening in his pants when you squirm on top of him. 

His nails trace along the bare skin of your waist once he's finished unbuttoning your blouse, your bralette — that was a few sizes too small — fully on display for him. He's practically salivating at the site, his tongue sliding across his canines, completely in awe of your breasts spilling out of the flimsy, white material.

Sunghoon can't unclasp and slide off your bra, or else it'd be awkwardly hanging in the air, and trying to slip it through the handcuffs would take too much effort. Instead, he apologizes under his breath before his hands reach the front of your bra.

"Wait, Sunghoon—!"

Without warning, he stretches the fabric until it finally rips, seemingly pleased with himself if the cocky smirk is anything to go by. "Relax," he says, "I'll buy you a new one."

You don't have time to scold him because before you can even process what's happening, Sunghoon's tongue is swirling around your nipple. You swear at the sudden contact, arching your back and pressing your chest further into his face. It's almost embarrassing how such a simple act already had your head spinning.

His hands trail downward until they reach the hem of your skirt, slowly pushing it upwards until it's bunched around your waist. He traces the tip of his finger across your clothes cunt, pleased with how wet you've already gotten without having done much.

Your hips buck up into his hands on instinct, desperate for the friction, borderline craving it.

Sunghoon releases your perked bud in his mouth, looking up at you as he asks, "You want me to stop?"

"No, please don't." You beg.

"So this is okay then, right?"

If your wrists weren't handcuffed to the grab handle, you're sure you would've reached down and choked him for all the teasing. "Yes, Sunghoon, it's okay! Just hurry up and do something!"

Sunghoon shakes his head at you, mumbling, "So impatient." as he moves to lie flat on his back.

You stare down at him, confused, when he doesn't immediately start undoing his pants but instead positions his head right between your thighs.

It's funny, Minjeong claimed Sunghoon wasn't really into giving head and only gave it to her a handful of times during the course of their relationship, claiming he preferred to save it for special occasions.

But yet, here he is, willingly pushing your thighs further apart before pressing his lips against your clothed cunt.

The action sends shivers down your spine, and the handcuffs around your wrist suddenly feel tighter. He presses his tongue flat against you, groaning at the taste of your slick that's soaked through your panties. You grind down on him instinctively, your body trembling with anticipation as you squeeze your eyes shut.

"Fuck." You whisper, tugging at the handcuffs in frustration.

The sound of the metal clinking makes Sunghoon chuckle, pressing a final kiss against your damped underwear before mumbling, "Cute."

He makes quick work of sliding your underwear off your legs, tossing them to the 

front seat with a grunt as you wait for him to continue. Sunghoon settles himself between your thighs again, groaning in annoyance as you hover over him. "Stop fucking hovering," he demands, attempting to pull you down directly onto his face, "it's fine."

It's too intimate; you've never even sat on Heeseung's face before, and you're sure this isn't something he's done with Minjeong.

"But, I don't wanna cru- fuck!"

Sunghoon dismisses your worries, forcing you down onto his face and instantly wrapping his lips around your clit. You barely have any time to process that this is completely new territory for you, being this intimate with a man, sitting right on his face while he drags his tongue along your cunt; gathering your wetness and dragging it up towards your clit before wrapping his lips around it once more.

You let out an embarrassingly loud moan at that, leaning your head against the cold window as your face heats up. This only encourages Sunghoon even further, and his confidence grows, feeling bold enough to tease the tip of his tongue into your hole.

You jolt up at this, biting back a moan and wishing you could reach down and grab a fistful of his hair and properly ride his face. He licks another stripe up your folds, gripping your thighs and holding your body in place when you try to squirm away. 

"Stop trying to run from me," he groans into your pussy, the vibrations from his voice sending a shiver across your body. 

He presses his face further into your cunt, moaning at how much wetter you've gotten since he's started. For a man who apparently wasn't one to eat a girl out, he sure did seem desperate and eager to have you come on his face. In fact, it almost seemed as if he was doing it for his own pleasure rather than yours, which only turns you on even more.

After a few more slides of his tongue, you finally feel your orgasm approaching, your thighs tensing around Sunghoon's head.

"I know you're close," he whispers, placing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses on your inner thighs, "go ahead, use me. I know you want to."

He's practically begging at this point, big, wet eyes staring up at you in pure adoration as he sucks your clit back into his mouth. That's your breaking point, the knot in your stomach finally untying itself as your orgasm washes over you.

You let out a moan so loud that your throat hurts shortly afterward, your wrists going limp in the handcuffs as you ride out your high.

Sunghoon doesn't let up until you're practically shaking from overstimulation, your body naturally twitching and squirming away from his greedy mouth as he cleans you up. He pulls away finally, his mouth and chin completely coated with your slick as he leaves a trail of kisses on your bare thighs.

You can't help but stare down at him in awe; he looks completely dazed as if he's running off, nothing but pure desperation and lust for you. You.

"Sunghoon," you say, trying to get his attention, "I…do you keep condoms in here?"

He flutters his eyes open, shaking his head, "No, but 7/11's just down the street. I can go-"

You interrupt him with a shake of your head, "I don't wanna wait; we don't need one."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm on the pill. Just, please, fuck me already."

It's music to his ears, really.

Sunghoon slides himself back up the seat, reaching up to release you from the handcuffs. You groan at this, having gotten used to them and quite frankly enjoyed the temporary feeling of restriction.

"You liked the cuffs?" Sunghoon questions, dropping your wrists from the grab bar.

"Yeah," you admit, "I liked it more than I thought I would."

He nods at this, and you realize now that one of the cuffs is still clasped around your wrist. Sunghoon also notices this and smirks as an idea forms in his head. "Turn around."

You comply with no further questions, groaning when he suddenly pushes your body down into the seat. He brings your arms behind your back, handcuffing you once more as he lets out a sigh of pleasure. "I knew you'd like it."

Sunghoon pushes your skirt back up, straddling himself around your things after pulling his pants and boxers far enough to allow his cock to spring free. He steadies himself with a hand on your shoulder, using the other to teasingly drag his fully-hardened cock across your slick folds.

Sunghoon shivers at this, cursing at the sight as he repeats his movements. He knows he won't last much longer; he was practically seconds away from coming in his boxers just from eating you out, so he really should quit with the teasing for his own sake.

Minjeong had never allowed him to fuck her without a condom, so this type of intimacy was new and overwhelmingly good.

He finally pushes himself into you, his tip alone causing you to bite down on the leather of his seat. You already felt so full, and he wasn't even halfway inside yet.

"Ah fuck," he groans, "you're so tight, you're so…fuck." He can barely even form a sentence, biting down on his bottom lip as he further inches himself inside of you.

You're not doing any better, feeling as if you're already seconds away from your second orgasm when he's hardly even done anything. It takes a minute before he's fully inside of you, pausing before he leans down and asks, "Can I move?"

"Please, I need you to."

Sunghoon nods at this, pressing a kiss against your ear before sitting himself back up. He angles your hips off the seat but presses your chest further into it, giving you (and himself) the perfect arch to comfortably slide in and out.

The first few thrusts are slow, as expected, but just enough to get you used to his size. Even this was all too much for Sunghoon; he was already dangerously close to his orgasm.

He didn't intend on speeding up his thrusts already, but he really can't help it. Everything about this feels too good. The way your walls perfectly wrap around him, and the way you're moaning and cursing for him to keep going are overwhelmingly good.

"Fuck." He moans, squeezing his eyes shut as he presses you down further into the backseat. He pulls his cock all the way out before pushing himself back in, which you seem to enjoy. He does it a few more times, mostly to humor himself since it's something he assumed you would've been annoyed by.

"Sunghoon," you pant, "I'm close."

"Already?" He asks, pushing your hips downwards until you're lying flat on your stomach.

He tries to come off as cocky and frustrated, but he really is grateful you're already so close to your orgasm, seeing that he felt like he could burst at any given second.

You nod, "Please, keep going."

He doesn't respond, opting to remain silent as you pull his cock out of you before ramming it back in at a pace much harder and faster than before. His thrusts are sloppy and borderline desperate, the sound of skin slapping and grunts filling the air shortly afterward.

The two of you could hardly keep your eyes open, too lost in the pleasure of your approaching orgasms.

Your's hits first, and Sunghoon's follows shortly after, practically filling you up to the brim with his cum. You've never felt so full and warm, heat spreading through your entire body as you slowly calm down and regulate hour breathing.

Sunghoon doesn't feel like moving, but he does anyway, slipping himself out of you with a wince, watching his cum drip out of you and onto the seat of the car. He curses at the sight, stopping himself from leaning forward and eating it out of you.

He undoes both of the handcuffs this time, helping you sit up as you avoid eye contact with each other. "Hold on," he says, re-adjusting his pants and boxers, "I should have a towel or something in the trunk."

Sunghoon steps out of the car, returning a minute later with a towel in hand. He leans down, prepared to clean you up, until you stop him, "It's okay, I got it."

He shakes his head, "I can do it for you."

"It's fine," you say, buttoning up your shirt, "I'd prefer to do it myself, actually."

Sunghoon finally gives in, handing you the towel before leaning over the center console and retrieving your panties from the passenger seat. He waits patiently for you to finish up, instructing you to just drop the towel on the floor as he hands you your underwear.

"Hey, have you…do you think you've sobered up yet?" He asks, watching as you slip your panties back on.

"Yeah, why?"

"Before I met you in the bathroom, I took a few bites of an edible, and I think it's starting to kick in. I think you should drive."

You sigh, mostly because this was not at all what you'd been hoping he'd say. "Drive where? To your place? Then where would I go?"

"I can pay for your Uber home."

"Sunghoon, it's past midnight, and I'm a girl; taking an Uber this late is too dangerous."

"Then drive back to your place; I'll sleep in the car and drive off in the morning."

You groan, "No, Minjeong might visit me in the morning. What'll she think when she sees your car in my driveway?"

"Dammit, YN, then just spend the night at my place. You can take my bed, and I'll sleep on the couch; just please drive us somewhere, for fuck's sake."

Bickering with Sunghoon somehow doesn't annoy you; in fact, it feels almost domestic. Going back and forth like a real couple.

"Fine." You say, climbing into the driver's seat.

Sunghoon's phone falls off the dashboard in the process, now charged at twenty-eight percent, and apparently, a missed text from Minjeong that was sent a few minutes ago.

The jealousy that fills your chest is downright abnormal; Minjeong is your best friend; there's no real reason for you to feel jealous of her in the first place. 

In fact, you shouldn't feel any sort of guilt at all; it's not like they're still together. They've been broken up for three weeks and three days. 

Three weeks. And Three days.

[giuliannna]

THAT'S ALL YOU, BABY

hamzah's too busy to help you out.

"god.." you hear grumbling coming from the corner of your room, where your boyfriend's sat at his desk. "fuckin'.. stupid shit.."

you sit up, your gaze landing on hamzah's face, illuminated by the bright white glow of his computer screen. the clack of keys is loud in the quiet atmosphere of the dark bedroom, and if you squint, you're able to make out the thumbnails of numerous video clips on his screen.

you've been waiting for him to come to bed for hours - you were restless, and you began to toss and turn as he deals with editing a new video, one that he was hell-bent on finishing tonight.

hamzah hears the rustling of the comforter, his head whirling around to see you staring over at him. "shit.." he murmurs. "sorry, baby. i'm almost done, i promise."

"s'fine," you mumble, flinging the sheets to the side, dragging yourself out of bed and walking over to where he's slumped in his desk chair. "what's taking so long?"

"martin," he sighs, sliding his glasses off the bridge of his nose, setting them down before rubbing his temples. "he was supposed to help me out with this, but he's not responding."

"oh," you mutter, peering over his shoulder at the monitor. "you want company?" i ask, my voice low in his ear.

he peers at you, tilting his head back. "sure," he says, somewhat hesitantly, like he's reading your mind - seeing right through you, knowing that you want something.

you grab the armrest of his chair, swiveling it toward you. his eyes meet yours with an accusatory look underneath his dark lashes as you stand over him.

"what?" you ask innocently, a scoff escaping your lips as you slowly place yourself on top of his thigh, your legs folded up on either side of his leg. your body fits against his like a puzzle piece in the cushioned desk chair.

you can sense that he's already onto you, he just knows you that well.

"what're you doin'?" he whispers, resting his hands on top of your thighs, his middle finger tracing small circles against your skin.

"nothin'." you respond simply, reaching behind you to grab his glasses off the desk and slide them back onto his face, quickly kissing him on the cheek. "keep working."

"mm." he hums, obviously not believing you. he turns the chair back toward his desk anyway, scooting in and reaching around your body to keep clicking around the editing program.

you keep still for a few minutes, letting him edit while you cling to him. as you rest your head on his shoulder, you grow more impatient with each passing moment. the close proximity you placed on your bodies only weakens your grasp on your self control.

the truth is - you and hamzah haven't had sex in two weeks. his work stole away entirely too much time, he was constantly filming and working on projects, especially with the upcoming christmas series that he had planned for his channel. you had a job of your own, too, which was an entirely different story.

you two also have been hosting people at your apartment for the holidays. your friends - as well as his - have constantly been visiting and using your home as a place to crash for the night.

between all of this, you didn’t get much time alone with your boyfriend. your schedules just didn’t align, and when they did, you only made plans that involved other people.

point being, you had some pent up feelings, naturally.

suddenly, a groan in your ear sends a cold shiver down your spine, snapping you out of your spaced out mind. you now feel a bruising grip on each side of your waist.

your hips come to a still.

“mph, stop.. doin’ that..” hamzah growls, shifting his leg underneath you, holding you tightly to stop your subconscious grinding.

“shit,” you whisper, your body tensing. “i.. i didn’t even realize..”

hamzah keeps silent for a moment, breathing heavily.

eventually you feel his arm slightly flex as he lifts his hand away from his keyboard, his fingers sliding up your back and threading into your hair.

he tugs on the roots, picking your head up off his shoulder with a little bit of force, making you gasp. “look at me,” he rasps, sounding weak.

you peer down at him nervously, seeing his dark eyes scrutinizing you.

he tightens his hold on your hair as he speaks, “i’m busy.” he states. “but if you’re really that fucking desperate, then you can deal with it yourself.”

your stomach floods with heat at his words.

“what?” you whisper.

“you heard me,” he mutters darkly. “you wanna get off? go ahead, that’s all you, baby.”

“like.. you mean..” your eyes flick down to his thigh, where you’re straddling him.

“mhm, use it.” he says, letting go of your hair, his hand instead cradling your face. brushing his thumb against your bottom lip, he smirks. “do the work by yourself for once.”

you almost wanted to roll your eyes - sure, you could be a bit of a pillow princess sometimes, but that was because hamzah never necessarily wants you to put in an excessive amount of effort during your activities.

he always tells you to ‘just relax’ and ‘let him take care of you’ - so you just sit back and allow him do what he does so well.

he gets off on giving you pleasure. simple as that.

but this time, when he refuses to give you any of that attentiveness, you’re feeling so desperate that you’re actually going to have to listen to what he's telling you.

it’s no use protesting his ask, you know you’re going to give in.

you just can’t help yourself when it comes to him.

“are you serious?” you ask quietly, just to confirm.

“hundred percent,” he replies, dropping his hand from your face, pressing a kiss to your neck as his fingers trail down the sides of your body. “what, d’you think you can’t handle it?”

“no,” you answer immediately. “no.. i can do it.”

“that’s my girl,” he whispers, squeezing your thighs before he reaches around you once more, going back to his work, seemingly without a second thought.

you take this as a sign for permission to do whatever you wanted - whatever you needed. even if he didn’t have the time to pay attention, hamzah still wants you to feel good, no matter how much of a careless exterior he displays.

starting slow, you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face into the crook of his shoulder as you start rocking your hips slowly against his thigh, the friction of fabric hitting your clit in the most perfect way possible.

but gradually, you get desperate. soft whimpers and moans slip past your lips, your body setting a quicker pace as you ride hamzah’s leg.

it was a little embarrassing, slowly becoming a mess on top of him while he sits and does work, only murmuring a few lazy words of endearment here and there.

your breathing becomes shallow as your arousal builds, your fingers quickly making their way down to tug your sleep shorts and panties to the side, needing to feel more.

your slick soaks the fabric of his sweatpants, fingers digging into his shoulders with frustration as the pace of your hips becomes delayed and erratic.

a low moan rumbles in your throat, your skin burning hot with the frustration of basically knocking yourself out over the pursuit of your own satisfaction - thinking hamzah's not paying attention, but he is.

with each little noise and movement you've made, his work continuously seems to be less and less important to him.

“why’re you slowing down, huh?” he rasps, noticing your vexation.

you can only whine in response, not necessarily wanting to admit that you were getting tired.

“poor thing,” he smirks. “just need me to do everything for you, don’t you?” he teases, taking hold of your waist.

“please,” you sigh sensually, directly into his ear, feeling him slightly shiver underneath you.

it doesn’t take much convincing for him to help you out. you know he wants to, anyways.

he can’t resist you just as much as you can’t resist him.

he keeps his grip steady on you while starting to press your hips down, slightly lifting his leg up into your core - and the immediate increase of pressure has you squirming.

he starts aiding in the guidance of your movements, rocking you back and forth as your body basically melts into him.

“fuckin’ needy girl..” he groans, his jaw clenched. “had to use my thigh to fuck yourself. so desperate.”

all the stimulation on your clit is enough to have you trembling with an building orgasm already, and hamzah can feel it.

“you're close already?” he growls, yanking on your hair again to get your eyes fixated on him.

he relishes in seeing the angelic expression on your face. your parted lips and the blush dusting your cheeks - just the mere sight of you makes him want to give you the world.

his work completely forgotten, he becomes dead set on making you cum on his thigh. “c’mon baby,” he urges, picking up the speed at which he’s rolling your hips. “finish what you started.”

"hamzah.." you cry out in exasperation, your head lolling back. "fuck.. fuck, feels so good."

"i know, angel, i know.." he coos, staring up at you in complete awe as you writhe on top of him. "you're doing so good.. making a mess like this."

you're to the point of no return - your lower stomach feels like it's twisted into a knot. "m'gonna.. oh, shit, hamzah!" you moan, high-pitched and whiny.

"uh-huh, that's it," he groans, hands slipping underneath your shirt, cold fingertips meeting your warm skin as you unravel underneath his touch. "fuckin' dirty, finishing on me so fast."

dizzy with lust, your orgasm courses through you in lengthy waves, practically making you see stars. your head falls forward, your damp forehead pressing against hamzah's, your mind blissfully dropping into pure relaxation.

"oh, my good girl.." hamzah's faint voice penetrates your clouded mind. he brings you down from your high, his thumbs brushing across your tensed abdomen. "so perfect."

your body twitches slightly as you melt against him, breathing in short gasps, trying to piece yourself back together.

"still working..?" you murmur the question teasingly, peeking up at him. you lazily slide your hand up his chest and across his face, your index finger pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose where they'd begun to slip down.

he chuckles, the rumbling in his chest vibrating against you. "no, baby. you're so distracting, y'know that? how would i be able to focus after this?" he says, sliding an arm underneath you and scooping you up. "let's go to bed."

————————————————————

a/n: please message me with anything you want me to write !! i wanna try and start writing more so if there's anything you want to see i'm open to all ideas

xo giulia

[kitten4sannie]

middle of the night

pairing: boyfriend! san x fem! reader

genre: pure smut

summary: these days, san can never seem to get a good night’s rest, that is, until he’s able to completely unload himself inside his pretty little girlfriend. good thing you‘re laying right next to him.

w.c: 2.1k

warnings: mean dom! san, subby painslut! reader, both of these mfs are nymphos, somno that turns into full blown sex (they have an established agreement and there is strict consent involved), san’s got a big curved cock as per usual, pet names/name calling, praise/degradation, manhandling, tit play, spit, finger sucking, pussy slapping, marking, possessiveness, spanking, vaginal/anal sex also known as the two for one special <3 (psa: never switch from ass to pussy irl btw), rough altered missionary/doggy/back to missionary, san puts reader in a headlock (muahahahah), creampies, squirting, breeding kink, bulge kink, dumbification, brief oral, san eats his own cum out of reader, this is really filthy btw i should be locked up :3c

a/n: i literally can’t stop writing bc of the horneee that is constantly brought upon me against my will 😞 it’s all san’s fault </3 also i realized i’ve only written one fic about somno like two thousand years ago even tho it’s in my top ten kinks so i gotta fix that <3 *screams* i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed coming up with it~

song recs: angel by massive attack - beware by deftones (GRRRRRRRR BARK BARK)

San couldn’t seem to stop tossing and turning in bed, forcing his eyes shut and waiting for one side of his pillow to grow far too hot for comfort, before letting out a frustrated groan and rolling onto his other side, his cheek squished against the feathered pillow. Squinting at the glowing analog clock on the bedside table across from him, San blinked a few times, his eyes getting used to the darkness inside the room. It was already nearing dawn and he still hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. There had to be some kind of solution.

It was then that you shifted besides him, emitting a soft moan and rolling onto your back, your loose tank top lowered just enough so that one of your tits had popped out of it, creating another obstacle for San to overcome, one that wouldn’t let him fall asleep until he confronted it.

“Fuck,” San whispered to himself, pushing the covers down far enough to confirm his growing problem. With half-closed, tired eyes, your boyfriend watched his cock repeatedly throb upwards against his loose black sweatpants, as if it was begging him to do something, and quick.

Hs thought back to a conversation you had earlier that week, one you brought up after he had just got done fucking you all over the house in every position imaginable. Like many of your sex marathons, it was initiated because of something simple — you being bent over the washing machine to fill it up with a load of detergent, which, of course, led to San filling you up with his own load in every possible area of your house, including the back patio when you tried to water your poor succulents.

“Sannie, you might as well fuck me when I’m asleep too, at this point,” you giggled, running your fingers through San’s soaked hair, admiring the way he looked in between your legs, with his mouth and tongue exploring your leaking, cum-filled cunt.

“You mean that, angel? My dumb slut wants me to fuck her even dumber in her sleep?” he asked in between licks, humming softly as he continued to languidly clean you up after the destruction he caused to your used hole. It was his favorite pastime, besides rearranging your insides and painting them white with his seed, of course.

Moaning at his mean words, you tugged on his hair, rubbing your soaked pussy in his face like you always did. “Yes, I mean it, baby. Now, shut up and clean up your mess.”

Before San knew it, he was hovering over you, your thighs wide open and resting against his own, your loose, nonexistent sleep shorts tossed to the side so that he could eagerly rub his slick cock along your plush folds, his thick, calloused fingers exploring every inch of your heated skin, groping at your soft thighs, your hips and waist, eventually getting distracted by your tits, rolling your tank top up over them until they spilled out into his greedy hands. He squeezed and rolled them around, bringing his drooling mouth down to your chest to drag his hot tongue up and over your tits until they shined with his spit, pinching your puffy nipples in between his teeth until you whined out in your sleep, feeling your arousal leak out onto his pulsing cock when he finally pushed inside.

“Mmn, my angel is such a good little cocksleeve, so fucking wet for me even in her sleep,” San sighed lovingly to himself, sucking one of your tits into his mouth, spitting on it for good measure, before exchanging it for the other, moaning around your soft flesh, his eyes never leaving your pretty flushed face, even though you weren’t even awake to look down at him.

Unable to hold himself back, he began to buck his hips wildly into you like he always ended up doing when your tight, warm cunt sucked him in the way it did, the headboard beginning to bang loudly against the wall behind it. Grunting, San licked up from your spit-laced chest to your neck, sucking and biting into it, leaving his mark on you. “My baby, my sweet girl, you’re mine, all mine, even when you’re dreaming,” he whispered against your slick skin, slowly pulling back when he heard the breathy gasps you were letting out turn into full-blown moans.

“S-sannieee, I’m so full,” you voiced in a sleepy tone, reaching up to rub your tired eyes, studying your boyfriend’s rosy cheeks and lips, the way his drenched hair stuck to his forehead, a few drops of sweat landing on your face, unable to look away from his intensely dark, lust-filled gaze. “Is my pussy making Sannie go crazy?”

A low growl erupted from San’s throat, a vein starting to grow taut against his skin, now that he was pounding into you with abandon, reaching up underneath your thighs to forcibly fold you in half like you were nothing but a doll for him to use. “Your slutty cunt always drives me crazy, princess, so be good and take responsibility, hm?”

Barely able to breath now that you were akin to origami, your brain grew delightfully fuzzy from the lack of oxygen, encouraging the hazy, half-asleep state you were still in and the oversized cock that was being driven relentlessly into your cervix to work in tandem until pleasure overtook your body to the point of orgasm. “Fuck, Sannie, baby, fffuuck, I’m cumming…!”

“Oh, my dirty girl, creaming yourself so soon?” San mused with his lips quirked into a shit-eating grin, his dimples and canine teeth on display. Just as your eyes begin to disappear underneath your fluttering eyelids, San suddenly grabbed you by the chin, reaching down in between your sweaty bodies to smack his hand down roughly against your spasming cunt. “Look at me when you’re squirting on my cock, baby. You know better.”

“S-sannie, it’s so, oh my god–” you cried out, opening your mouth to moan and instead feeling his thumb slide over your tongue, your lips closing around it. You continued to suck on his thumb as he fucked you through your first mind melting orgasm of the night, biting into it when he smacked your cunt again with his free hand.

“Owww, bad girl.” San watched you lick and suck on his thumb with a lecherous smile plastered on his red, sweaty face, rubbing his other thumb roughly into your puffy clit, rolling it in circles until he felt your thighs trembling nonstop against his moving body, suddenly stopping his movements to sheath himself fully inside you, groaning heavily as he flooded your pulsing cunt with his hot load. “Mm, you feel that, princess? I’m pumping all my cum into this slutty womb of yours, so I can get you nice and knocked up for me…You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Just as he pulled his thumb out of your drooling mouth, you clasped your hands onto his cheeks, looking up at him hearts in your teary eyes, and begging, “Yes, Sannie, I like it, love it so much. Can I have more?”

And there it was. You might’ve been the love of his life and his beautiful angel of a girlfriend, but you were still his personal breeding bitch at the end of the day — and in the middle of this hazy, sleepless night.

“Oh, yeah?” San hummed, slowly pulling out of you and running his fingers through his wet hair, just for it to fall back into his half-lidded eyes, watching as his cum began to flood out of your gaped, fluttering hole. He wanted nothing more than to eat it out of you, his mouth watering at the thought of tasting the warm saltiness mixed with your sweet squirt on his lips, but he still had to pursue his mission of pleasing his baby. “My little slut still hasn’t had enough?”

“No, Sannieee, I need your cock in my other breeding hole. Please?” you whined softly, pouting up at him, hoping you’d get your way now that you were fired up and desperate for him to fill and own as many of your holes as he could before the both of you fell victim to drowsiness.

San closed his eyes to ground himself for a second, not even fully prepared for the filth that you exuded, despite being quite the pervert himself. When he opened his eyes back up, he looked down, his curved cock now painfully stiff and twitching upwards into his heaving abdomen, somewhat winded from how hard he had been fucking you just a moment ago. “Head down, ass up, little slut. Don’t make me ask twice.”

And just like that, you were lying with your head pressed into bed, drooling heavily from both ends, getting saliva onto the arousal stained mattress, your sopping wet cunt pushing out all of San’s load and causing it to drip down your inner thighs, your weak, bruised knees wobbling beneath you, your ass being relentlessly pounded into by your ravenous boyfriend. “Gonna cum, gonna cum–”

Your warning was cut off by a sharp gasp, just as San’s hand collided with the side of your reddened ass, his fingers grabbing into the soft, sensitive flesh until you whimpered pathetically. “You’re such a filthy slut, aren’t you?” he growled between gritted teeth, smacking the other side of your ass and making you cry out before you could answer him properly. He suddenly pulled out of your ass and forced himself back into your cunt, stuffing you completely full, hunching over you so that he could put you in a headlock, loose enough so that you remained conscious, but tight enough so that you could feel deliciously dizzy. “You’re my filthy slut. All mine to fuck raw, to ruin, to breed. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whispered hoarsely, opening your mouth up to accept his tongue inside when he closed in on you, feeling breathless once he manipulated your body until you were back underneath him, your legs near your head, his cock so deep inside your cunt that the tip of it created a prominent bulge inside your stomach, one that San was already palming as he began to shudder, his lips, teeth and tongue attacking your neck again to leave more marks, darker ones that you would have to put concealer over before you went to work the following morning. “That’s it, that’s it, cum inside me, San, please, make me yours!”

“You’ve been mine since the beginning, angel, but I’ll make you mine again, and again, and again,” San exhaled onto your lips, wrapping his arms protectively around you, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his tip just about kissing the entrance of your cervix, your bodies so entangled together, neither of you knew where the other began. You gazed into each other’s hazy eyes, moaning into each other’s open mouths, as another seemingly endless flood of thick, hot cum claimed your womb. “I love you so fucking much, it hurts.”

“I love you too, San,” you sighed back, caressing his heated face, your fingers slipping into his hair just as he began to lower himself down, shuddering at the sensation of his lips and teeth making their mark on your chest, abdomen, hips, then gasping when he made his way to your center, his hot tongue slipping inside your pulsing cunt.

Like every time before, San ate his warm load out of you like a starved man, his nose nudging your sensitive clit as he moved his head in an up and down motion, coaxing more of the saltiness onto his tongue, reaching up to rapidly rub your clit just because he could, pleased with the way you began to cry and shake, your warm squirt pouring down his throat. He swallowed it all down with a low, pleased groan, dragging his tongue up and over your used, puffy cunt to collect the last few drops of nectar, before he finally felt tired enough to collapse down onto the bed next to you.

With the last ounce of his strength, he pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then to your lips, letting you taste your combined essence. “Bedtime?” San whispered, cradling and rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs, looking at you with a fondness that bordered obsession. He chuckled softly, giving you a dimpled smile. “I promise I won’t wake you up again.”

“You won’t wake me up, but you still might fuck me in my sleep? Huh, nympho?” you teased jokingly, cradling his face back, so close that you breathed in the same air, your eyes never leaving his, despite how heavy your eyelids began to feel. “I need my sleep, you know.”

San was in a similar state, starting to drift off, his hands leaving your face so that he could wrap them protectively around you. “Sorry, baby. I’ll try to be quieter next time,” he murmured, letting out a soft giggle, pressing a kiss to your lips just as his eyes began to close. “Just don’t be mad at me when you wake up with my cock still inside you…”

Leaving a kiss on his nose, your eyes started to close as well, completely relaxing into your boyfriend’s warm embrace. “I’ll be mad if it’s not still inside me.”

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ｐｌｅａｓｅ ｍｅ ♡

♡ Pairing: drug dealer!wooyoung x good girl!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/smut/playful enemies to lovers

♡ Summary: If there's one thing you've learned from having a criminal as a step brother it's this: Never, under any circumstance, get involved with a guy like him. It's messy, it's risky, and it almost always ends in tears. It's the #1 reason you've pushed Wooyoung away for so long but sadly for you he's sickeningly handsome and painfully persistent. A combination that was bound to break you down and today's the day.

♡ Word Count: 3.7k

♡ Warnings: san's your step brother (only mentioned), wooyoung's a criminal but a cute one, heavily tattooed woo, he low key/high key worships reader's body, kissing, oral sex (f receiving, reader's first time actually), fingering, a lil handjob, scratching, unprotected sex, a lil rough sex, cock riding, choking, creampie, pet names (baby, princess).

♡ A/N: Hello, my darlings. For whatever reason (he's super fucking hot) I've had a thing for Wooyoung lately. I'm also such a sucker for a criminal/mafia/etc boy who's super soft for reader and that's how we ended up here. As always, if you end up reading this I hope you have fun with it my loves. xoxo

The perfect sunny day. You’ve been waiting months for the weather to break and finally you’ve been blessed with one. Refusing to waste it, you’ve been relaxing by the pool all day. Occasionally you’ll take a dip, letting the cool sparkling blue waters wash over you, but mostly you’ve been right where you are now. Spread out on a lounge chair, your earphones blaring your favorite song as the sun sprinkles its rays across your soft skin. 

This is the most peace you’ve had in a long time and the preciousness of it isn’t lost on you. At any second your stepbrother and his “business associates” could charge through the front door, bringing chaos and bloodshed with them, but you try not to think about it. For now this sprawling villa is all yours and nothing can take that from you. Well, almost nothing. 

“What are you doing out here, kid?” Wooyoung asks, staring down at you through a pair of dark tinted sunglasses. 

With your eyes closed, you hum along to the music, blissfully unaware of his existence. Wooyoung takes a long look at you, his gaze scanning you from head to toe. In all the years he’s worked for your stepbrother not once has he missed an opportunity to observe your beauty and this is the opportunity of a lifetime to say the least. He prides himself as being a man who bows to no one but he’d get down on his knees just to beg for one nibble at that plush figure of yours. 

Pushing his glasses back to the top of his head, he leans in closer to that pretty face and shouts, “You should really be more aware of your surroundings!”

His breath skims your cheek and you open your eyes only to see the shadow of a man, his features obscured by the sun. “Aah, shit!” you scream, scrambling out of the chair and nearly falling as you do. 

Wooyoung cackles, reaching out to you in a half hearted attempt to offer some comfort. “It’s okay! It’s me!”

You snatch your earbuds out, your eyes adjusting to the brightness as you begin to make out who it is in front of you. “Woo?” you squint, “You son of a bitch! What’s wrong with you?” 

“Wait, I’m sorry!” he apologizes but you’re already raining slaps down upon him. Using the duffle bag in his hand, he holds it up, blocking a few of your hits. 

You maneuver around it, landing a half dozen more hits before you tire yourself out. “You don’t sneak up on people like that! You almost gave me a heart attack!” 

“I said I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to scare you, honestly. Come here, let’s make up” Woo opens his arms, approaching you for a hug and, as always, you shove him away. The rejection doesn’t even sting anymore, he just takes it as a part of your charm.

Eyeing the hefty bag in his hand, you fold your arms across your chest, eager to get him out of your hair. “Tell me what you want. Quickly.” 

“Well, I have this delivery…”

You throw a hand over his mouth, refusing to hear another word. The less you know the better. “San’s not here so you can go. Thank you. Goodbye.” 

With that you ease back down into your chair, ready to carry on with your day like this never happened, but Wooyoung’s not giving up so easily. Part of you knew he wouldn’t. 

Wooyoung scoffs, his tongue poking his cheek, “You know I can’t do that. Today’s the drop off date and I don’t miss my dates, not for anyone. Not even you, princess. So here…”

He holds the bag out to you and you shoo it away. The only thing worse than knowing what’s in that thing is having your fingerprints all over it. “Fine, I’ll show you where to leave it but get that thing away from me and don’t call me ‘princess’, got it?” 

You get up with a huff, pushing past him and storming towards the house. Wooyoung takes his time, lingering behind for as long as he can, too stunned by this perfect view of you from behind to move.

“So…” he says when he's finally caught up to you, “How’s work?”

“Fine” you snap, navigating the halls with little care for if he can keep up. 

“You still best friends with that girl, uh, Charlotte?”

“Scarlet and yeah, still friends.”

“How about your little boyfriend?” 

His mocking tone makes you roll your eyes and you throw back a sharp look at him as you turn down a hall lined with sleek, black doors. “Broke up.”

Wooyoung pouts, hand over his heart, “Ouch, sorry to hear that.” 

He may be offering his condolences but that slick grin on his face says otherwise. Wooyoung’s been trying to get with you for as long as you can remember. You’re far from oblivious to it and for his part Wooyoung’s been far from subtle about it. Being mean to him has done nothing to discourage it but you continue to try, hoping that one day he’ll get the message and back off. It’s not that you don’t like him. The truth is the exact opposite. The crush that Wooyoung has on you is mutual. So mutual that just the sight of him has your stomach in knots. 

With those gorgeous features and that silky dark hair, he’s your every fantasy come true but he’s also trouble. You’ve seen what falling for a guy like that can do to a girl and you refuse to spend your days crying while he rots in a prison cell somewhere. You just weren’t built for it but sometimes when you’re alone and his eyes are on you the way they are now, his gaze hotter than the sun itself, you contemplate letting your inner desires cave to your better judgement. 

Refocusing on the task at hand, you push the thought away. “You can put it in here” you say, opening the door to the guest bedroom. 

Wooyoung steps inside, waiting for you to join him, “You scared to come in or something?” 

“No, I just don’t need to. Closet’s over there.” 

“I’m kinda blind without my glasses. Help me out?”

There’s that smile again, the one that has you melting beneath that cold exterior. Giving in, you walk over to the closet, sliding it open for him. 

“Here.” 

Wooyoung tosses the bag inside and when he does you swipe his glasses away, inspecting them. “I know these aren’t prescription by the way.” 

He just shrugs, snatching them back, “Yeah but they’re cool, aren’t they?” Stepping closer to you, he slips the glasses onto your face, beaming at how adorable you look. “They look cooler on you though.” 

A tingly feeling comes over you at the realization that you’re wearing something of his. It’s such a silly, schoolgirl thing but it’s nice and you can’t keep yourself from enjoying it. You crack a smile, a rare occurrence, and Wooyoung’s face lights up at this new achievement. 

“Oh my god, did you just smile at me?” he teases, tattooed fingers extending to brush along your arm. 

You grab his wrist before he can, staring him down behind the pitch black lenses. “I don’t know what you’re talking about” you deny, forcing the cursed smile way, “You must be, I don’t know…seeing things.” 

Wooyoung laughs, inching closer to you until you’re pressed against the doorway, a thin layer of clothes the only thing separating your barely clothed body from his. Taking the glasses off of you, he shoves them in his back pocket, making sure your eyes are visible when he asks this. “How long are we gonna do this?” 

“How long are we gonna do what?” you ask, your pulse racing at his closeness to you. He’s even more attractive up close, not a solitary flaw in sight, and the dark shift in his demeanor only makes you swoon harder. 

Twisting his arm free of your grip, he laces his fingers between yours, his thumb drawing light circles on the back of your hand. “Go back and forth like we don’t both want the same thing.”

It’d be typical of you to pull away and it crosses your mind that you should but for some reason you can’t. Chewing at your inner lip, you try to avert your eyes elsewhere, “And what exactly is it that you think I want?” 

Wooyoung tucks a finger under your chin, tilting your face closer to his. Your lips are dangerously close to touching. One wrong or right move—depending on how you look at it—and they’ll meet. 

“Me” he whispers and your body tenses, giving away just how correct he is. 

“I…I’ve never said that” you stutter, flustered by him for the first time. You feel naked, your secret laid bare. How could he know? 

“Then say it now. Say you don’t want me and I’ll stop” he says, brushing your lips with his. 

His tongue peeks out, teasing the seam of your lips and they part for him instantly, granting him easy access to the warmth of your mouth. That’s it. Years of fighting this blown to bits by a simple kiss. Only it’s not simple at all. The motion of his tongue is like a whirlwind, sweeping you up in him and nothing has ever felt so right. 

Your hands float up to cradle his face, your touch more precious to him than anything in the world. He didn’t know you’d surrender. For all he knew you could’ve kicked him in the balls and showed him the door. But it was worth the risk to put to rest what felt like an eternity of pining. He needed to know and now that he does there’s no turning back. He couldn’t if he wanted to.

The kiss grows deeper with every motion of your lips. Time itself seems to stand still as you fall deeper into each other, a thin haze falling over your minds at the heaven of this indulgence. Slipping a hand along the curve of your hip, he reaches back to grab a handful of your ass, groaning at how deliciously soft it is. 

“San says guys like you are no good for me” you say, the aching between your thighs betraying the very concept of that. 

His fingers find the strings of your bikini bottom, tugging at the carefully tied bows little by little until the fabric falls away. “Let me show you how good I can be for you, princess.”

You bite down on his lip just hard enough to make him pay for calling you that again. Wooyoung grins, kissing his way down your body. He takes care to press his mouth against every inch of you. Your collarbone, your breasts, your stomach. By the time he’s down on his knees, his tongue dragging along the meat of your thigh, your body’s vibrating from the sensation of being devoured so fully. But there’s still more of you to taste and Wooyoung’s drooling at the sight of it. 

He glances up at you eagerly, tapping his left shoulder and you know exactly what he’s asking. You drape your leg over his shoulder, your thigh pressed right up against his cheek. Wooyoung’s always known you to be this bold, confident girl but a sudden shyness washes over you and he can’t even lie, it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. 

“Don’t tell me no one’s ever…”

You bury your face in your hands, shielding yourself from the truth of his statement. It’s not like you haven’t been with guys before but they were all too focused on themselves to give you the special attention you so intensely longed for. Now, with Wooyoung’s face hovering close enough for his breath to tickle your clit, you can barely keep yourself together. 

Wooyoung strokes your entrance, swirling his fingertips in the juices dripping from you. “That’s a shame. She’s so pretty” he groans, curling his tongue against your clit.

You tremble at the contact, walls clenching as his digits press into you, scissoring you open. Moans spill into your palms, the feeling of him licking between your folds too perfect for you to keep quiet. 

He reaches up to grab your arm, tearing your hands away from your face. “We’re all alone, princess. Let me hear you.”

Slurping harshly at your pussy, his fingers sink in deeper, your cushy walls swallowing them hungrily. The silver watch on his wrist clicks with every rotation, matching the rhythm of him pounding your core. He purses his lips around your bud, alternating the amount of pressure he applies to make sure you can’t possibly predict what’s next. 

Your body tingles from head to toe, pleasure creeping into parts of you that you didn’t even know it could reach. The room’s just quiet enough to hear your arousal swishing around on his tongue, the space between his fingers squelching as you leak down his hand. You’ve never been this wet before and that knowledge only makes you wetter. A part of you has always known that Wooyoung could give you exactly what you needed. It seems criminal to have denied yourself of it for this long. 

“Woo, aah, baby…” you gasp, hands clamping down on his shoulders when he hits your sweet spot. 

He leans back, lips glistening with your essence. “Did you just call me ‘baby’?” he asks, lightly petting your spot to keep your walls quivering, “Sounds so cute coming from you.”

Wooyoung picks up speed, moisture splashing on your thighs as his fingers dip in and out of your core. Your nails dig into his shirt, hips rocking to match his movements. The pressure building is so intense it makes you dizzy. Your brain’s so scrambled that you have to remind yourself to breathe. You arch with that next desperate gasp for air and he takes advantage of this new angle, sneaking a third finger into you. 

“Say it again” he begs, still lapping at your clit, “Be a sweet little princess and say it for me.”

“Baby…” you whine as your glossy eyes meet his, “My baby.”

Wooyoung’s been hard for you since he saw you by the pool and it’s only gotten worse with your arousal coating his tongue but the sound of your voice—floaty and satisfied—calling him yours does something special to him. Something that has every bit of blood in his body rushing to his cock, the throbbing of it against his zipper borderline unbearable. 

A switch flips on in your brain reminding you that, your current position aside, he’s the one wrapped around your finger and there’s something incredibly hot about that. He’s a man that’s committed crimes you’d never dare ask about. He’s been to prison more than once, made men twice his size wish they were never born, and all his heart desires is for you to want him. You might not know what it feels like to wield the power he has outside of this room but, if it’s anything like what you’re feeling right now, it’s no wonder he can’t let it go. 

Summoning all of your inner strength, you thread your fingers in his hair, tilting his head away from you. “Take your clothes off” you demand, sliding your leg down from his shoulder. You do your best to put on a strong front but your legs are turning to jello and it’s only a matter of time before they give out. 

Wooyoung rises to his feet, staring back at you defiantly. You think for a fleeting moment that he might not listen. Maybe your bossy act was over when you opened your legs. But your fears are quieted with two simple words. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

You can’t take your eyes off of him as he strips down, slowly revealing a toned body mapped with tattoos and a cock you can’t resist wanting inside of you. “Like what you see?” he asks, pretending not to notice you blushing. 

It’s distracting how pretty the head of his cock is, pearls of precum decorating the swollen tip. “I’ve seen better” you lie, prying your attention away from it. 

Wooyoung takes your hand, wrapping it around his length to let you feel it pulse. “Have you?” he teases, noticing how you mindlessly trace each vein, admiring the slight curve of his cock as you stroke it. 

You shake your head, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, “Can I ride it? For…research purposes.”

“Research purposes? Is that it?” he laughs, guiding you over to the bed. 

Pulling you down onto him, he captures you in another sugary kiss, untying your top to let your bare breast rest in his palm. You straddle his lap, your pussy gliding down his length as he toys with your nipple, the bud pebbling with every pinch. He grabs your ass, lifting you up until his tip is pressed right up against your entrance. When he lets go your body slams down onto him, the thickness spreading you so wide that you scream between his lips. 

“You said you wanted a ride” he whispers, raising his hips to meet yours, “Take it.”

Tiny spots of color litter your vision, a flash of heat catching you off guard as you do what you can to adjust to the stretch. Your lashes flutter away the moisture forming in the corners of your eyes as you sit up in his lap, hands splayed out on his chest feeling it rise and fall with every uneven breath.

“Ah, fuck, princess…” he hisses when your full weight settles onto him and he bottoms out, his tip kissing your cervix. 

Your pussy hugs him tightly, hips rotating to feel him in every way you can. Feeling him in your hand is nothing compared to having him between your walls. You cling to him, picking up on all the finer details. It’s as if your body wants to remember it. Commit it to memory so that the ecstasy of this fullness never fades away, even after he slips out of you. Not that he has any intention to. He’d stay here forever if he could, enveloped by walls as smooth as velvet, his senses overwhelming him like its his first time. 

“Anyone ever tell you how cute you are?” he asks, gently massaging your thighs. 

You pout, knees pressing into the mattress as you lift up a few inches, pausing your movements. “Just cute?” 

Wooyoung grabs you by the hips, slamming you back down, and the force of his thrust almost makes you fold over. “Cute. Beautiful. Gorgeous…” he hums, palms tracing your figure, “You’re everything I could ever ask for and I knew from the day I met you that I’d do anything to have you.”

“Even get on my nerves?” you tease, intentionally flexing your walls around him. 

A whimper escapes him, the shock on his face beyond amusing to you. “Now that was cute” you giggle, repeating your actions but this time he holds back, refusing to give you the satisfaction. 

Lacing his fingers around your neck, he gives it a light squeeze that warns he can go harder. “Don’t threaten me. Do it” you dare, scratching red marks down his chest.

Wooyoung doesn’t hesitate, tightening his hold on your neck with a controlled strength that makes you feel safe and in danger all at the same time. His free hand finds your clit, his thumb toying with your bud as you ride him faster.

The deprivation of air leaves you lightheaded, heightening the feeling of everything else and you find yourself zoning out. There is no room, no bed, no house. Only the two of you pushing each other further towards the edge. Wooyoung can tell when you’re right there, the stuttering of your hips giving away how close you are to falling apart. 

“You gonna cum for me princess?” he coos, thrusting into you. 

You bounce in his lap—a mindless, helpless, whining mess—and his brain’s eating itself alive trying to decide where to look. At all those pretty faces you make? At the way your body jiggles from the impact? At the place where your bodies meet to make all of those delectable sounds? His eyes dart back and forth, indecisive and needy. He wants to take in all of you but there’s not enough time for it. His stomach muscles are tightening, that familiar tension clawing at his insides. 

He flicks your clit faster, maintaining his hold on your throat until you arch one last time, a moan ripping from your throat even in the absence of air. He turns you loose, the air rushing back into your lungs as your high takes you under wave by devastating wave. You collapse onto his chest and Wooyoung holds you close, too hypnotized by the feeling of you soaking his length to brace himself for how quickly he comes undone. He erupts deep within you, spraying your walls in thick layers of warmth that only make you crave more. 

It’d be the lie of the century to say that sex wasn’t something you’ve always wanted from each other but that was never just it. You wanted what came after too. The closeness of having your bodies intertwined, basking in the afterglow with his arms around you. The softness of his lips pressed to your forehead as he whispers the sweetest things to you. 

“You know you’re mine now, don’t you?” he asks, lovingly petting your hair. 

“Oh, really? Who says?” 

He leans down to kiss you and any shred of resistance melts away. You are his. You should’ve been all along. Somewhere in the back of your mind your worries linger. What if he gets into trouble he can’t get himself out of? What if you lose him one day? But, as he stares at you with stars in his eyes, you can’t imagine the alternative of not having him at all.

[purplecoffee13]

Miss Possessive*

Summary: “You’ve been dating the ice hockey team captain for a while now, and while you’ve gotten used to his popularity, you can’t keep yourself from getting jealous at all the attention he’s getting at his house party…”

Tropes: ice hockey player!harry x medical student!y/n

Wc: 5k

Warnings: SMUT, possessiveness (surprise surprise), chok!ng, dirty talk, exh!bitionism (if you squint), overst!mulation and some angst and then some fluff at the end😊

A/N: hi y’all! I got two things to say!

1. I wrote this one-shot based off the song miss possessive by Tate McRae and this tiktok I saw of the hottest things guys can say in bed, and I incorporated all of them😈. Screenshot of the tiktok below:

LMAO, anyways…

2. I’m thinking of making more parts to this, like how they met and stuff, so let me know if that’s something you’d like!

Okay happy reading!!!

Oh here’s my general masterlist

Harry has been your boyfriend for almost two months now. It's so nerve wracking, but also the most fun you think you've ever had.

God... to think you found him such a pain in the ads when you first met him. The version of yourself that you were five months ago would be straight up laughing at you if she'd see you now. But then again, that version doesn't know what you know now.

Life works in miraculous ways. If Harry hadn't been one of the athletes you'd been paired up with for your assignment, you probably would've never talked to him. And if his physical exam results hadn't forced you to check up on him afterwards, you probably would've never ended up dating him.

So, despite the result being a bit negative, the positive thing is that you had to talk to him one more time, otherwise you would've never fallen in love the way you have now.

You also never would've been at a house party off campus organized by the ice hockey team.

You'd never been before, but Harry really wanted you to experience it at least once. Besides, it was his last year playing for this team, and as captain he had to be present for team bonding activities.

It wasn't like you didn't like to party, you just ran in different crowds before. It just so happened to be that you didn't attend the same parties as the student athletes. You usually found yourself more with the IT and Engineering people, who seemed to have a very strong opinion on the people who were more athletically inclined. You never shared that same opinion, not liking judgment all too much. Besides, any analyzing of athletes on your part usually involved a lot of gawking and not a lot of talking. You couldn't help it, you've always liked muscles.

Lucky for you, Harry is not short of them. Something you have found other people also tend to notice.

You're not entirely sure if it's your insecurities or the result of being an only child, but you've never particularly liked sharing what's yours. Harry had a blast with that fact when he found out, stating it was 'hot as fuck' that you were so possessive of him. While that's all fun and games, it's a little less nice when your boyfriend happens to look like he was shaped by a skilled group of greek gods.

It's why you were hesitant about this party tonight. Harry warned you that there's always puck bunnies at their parties, mostly because the single guys like to invite them.

The other day, you kind of had an argument about your possessiveness when you glared down a girl from his class that he had to do an assignment with. He ended up having to switch partners because the girl suddenly didn't want to work with him anymore. He got mad at you, telling you that you needed to get it in your head that he was yours, and that he didn't want anyone else.

You felt incredibly guilty, more towards him than to towards the girl, which was something you would unpack in therapy a week from now. You apologized and he forgave you immediately, because Harry hates to fight. But it does make you feel a bit queasy about tonight, because if there's going to be girls staring at him all night, you'll have to put a damper on your temper, which might be impossible if you've consumed alcohol. It always gets worse after a few drinks.

Doing some final touch ups in front of Harry's bathroom mirror, you give yourself a silent pep-talk. You won't do anything, unless they actively flirt with him. That'll give you enough grounds to play the jealous girlfriend card without it resulting in a huge fight.

The first hour of the party goes by pretty fast, and you've done surprisingly well so far. About five girls have walked up to Harry and struck up a conversation with him—not acting doesn't mean not observing—but he's handled it perfectly so far. You've talked about boundaries in the months that you've been dating, and he respects every single one of them.

You have to admit that you're a bit bummed out that you don't know many people here. Sure, you know Harry's teammates, but they're busy with other friends or people they're trying to hook up with. You're not going to be the annoying girlfriend and bother them while they're trying to get laid.

To be honest, you kind of miss Harry, despite the fact that he's in the same house. Then again, you knew he was going to know a lot of people here. You decide you'll find him and stick by his side as soon as you finish your drink.

You're still assuring yourself you're going to be fine tonight when a blonde girl with bright blue eyes appears from behind Harry and grabs onto his arm. You lean towards Connor, Harry's teammate, who's sitting next to you on the couch.

"Who's that?" You ask. Connor looks over at the pair and lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Sydney." He answers. "Why doesn't she ever talk to me..."

You look at the boy next to you who is now slumped in his seat and staring over at the blonde girl with the tiny figure with wide eyes, and suddenly your stomach turns.

"Hey." Dan, Harry's other teammate suddenly appears in front of you. "You okay?"

You don't answer, your eyes traveling to Harry who— isn't there anymore. Seeing red, you down your drink in one go. Dan is about to say something, but you push him to the side and walk towards the spot where your boyfriend was five seconds ago. Frantically looking around, you feel some sort of relief when you spot your boyfriend, but it quickly burns to rage when you see he's still talking to that girl.

Your blood is close to boiling as you march over to where Harry and that girl are talking. He doesn't seem to notice you nearing, and your organs twist when you see him chuckle at whatever the girl in front of him said. You can see she's reaching for his arm, stepping closer to him. You're next to him in a millisecond.

"Hi." You say, announcing your presence to your boyfriend as if he didn't already feel it two seconds before. The girl has retracted her arm by now, which is good because if she didn't you would've cut it off with the nearest kitchen knife.

Harry senses your mood, because he immediately wraps his arm around your waist to calm you down.

"Hey babe."

"You two having fun?" You quirk up an eyebrow, crossing your arms, not even glancing at the girl once. You swear you see a hint of a smirk on Harry's face before it fades away.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom." The girl announces, clearly sensing an awkward situation on the horizon.

"Bye!" You chirp, still not taking your eyes off your boyfriend. He doesn't seem all too pleased with you, but you don't care because it's not like you can't say the same thing for him.

"What are you doing?" Harry asks once the girl has left the kitchen. He looks genuinely confused and somehow it pisses you off even more.

"I don't know, what are you doing?"

"Are you jealous or something?" He asks, taking a sip of his coke and bacardi. You let your eyes wander down his body, his gaze suddenly feeling quite heavy.

"She was hitting on you."

"We hadn't even started a conversation!" He responds.

"Well— she was trying to hit on you." You huff, because it's true. You know body language and you know girls, and you guess it's fine she couldn't have known that Harry isn't single, but that didn't mean you wouldn't just let her find that out herself.

Harry scoffs, and you're quick to look up at him. Your brow creases as you watch him shake his head in what appears to be disbelief.

"You know you don't have to do all of that." He says, and you can tell he's irritated. You try to control your breathing, trying not to let it waver from the turbulence you're feeling in your body. "Thought we agreed to talk about it."

That sends you over the edge for some reason. Partly, you know he's right. There is nothing for you to worry about. But for him to say it in this way, at this moment? It's so hypocritical.

"Talk? How? I thought I was going to have fun at a party with my boyfriend, but you've ditched me from the moment we stepped into this party." You bite back, and you can tell he didn't expect it, nor does he agree with what you're saying.

"What are you talking about? I told you I would probably run into a lot of people tonight."

"Yeah but you could've at least taken me along with you, couldn't you?" You frown at him. Harry stays silent, but when you try to slide past him to walk away, he grips your arm and stops you in your tracks.

"So, this is about you not getting enough attention?" He growls so lowly that it's almost a whisper, his eyes checking his surroundings to see if no one can tell that you're fighting. It rubs you the wrong way that he's annoyed with you right now, so you decide to get your claws out.

"Oh don't worry about me getting attention." You say slowly before shaking loose of his arm and walking back to the couch.

"Hey." Dan greets you when you appear again, standing up and gesturing for you to sit on the couch again. You thank him and sit down, letting out a sigh.

"What happened? Are you okay?" He asks again, and this time you answer.

"I'm fine." You brush it off because you don't want him to know the content of you and Harry's disagreements. You're a private person, and it's none of his business anyway.

"Is it because of Sydney?" Dan questions anyway. You look up at the guy next to you, a frown on your face. He shakes his head, throwing his hands up. "No, I'm just saying— if it is about her, I get it. Not the first relationship she's tried to fuck up."

Your eyes go wide, and your throat clamps up. Was your gut feeling right?

No.

You slowly shake your head, ridding yourself of that intrusive thought because just thinking it felt unfair and wrong. Harry would never do that to you, nor did he ever give you a reason to.

"That's a shitty thing of you to say." You say, getting up from your seat and heading for the stairs. This party suddenly has a bitter taste to it, and it's frustrating that you have yourself to blame for that.

You quickly do your business, but you stay in the bathroom unnecessarily long, fixing some of your make-up and your hair as a way to stall going back downstairs. After ten minutes of procrastinating you figure you've officially been here too long and it's time to get back to the party. You swing the door open and enter Harry's room.

You shriek when you see your boyfriend sitting on his bed. With your hand clutched to your chest, you let out a deep breath.

"Jesus fuck! You scared me. I didn't see—"

But Harry's already charging towards you, and before you can finish your sentence he's got you with your back against the bathroom door and his hand wrapped around your neck. You're stunned to silence.

"Is this what you wanted?" Harry asks, tightening his grip. Your mouth is going dry, and your heart rate picks up even more when you see his dark, lust-filled eyes. To the untrained eye you would think he was possessed by some feral animal, but you knew this is how Harry gets, and it's especially how you like him to get; unapologetically rough.

A slight smirk grows on Harry's face when you don't answer his question, just bucking your hips forward instead.

"What happened to all that attitude, sweet girl?" He asks as he strokes your neck with his thumb. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel his free hand roaming down your stomach and towards your inner thighs. When his fingers suddenly stop tracing, your eyes shoot back open again. He acts surprised, his brows a bit raised and his eyes slightly widened, but you know he's enjoying the hell out of this.

You whine incoherently, easily giving into to the role he wants you to play. You have no problem doing it, especially knowing what's going to follow when he gets like this.

"Hm?" He hums innocently, his hand traveling to your ass and squeezing it before he pushes your heat against his crotch. "Use your words."

You gasp at the contact with his body. Even after being together for a year, you're still so hungry for his touch every time. In fact, it feels like it's only magnified since you've been in a relationship. "Please..."

"Please what? Tell me what you want." He tuts you, his hand loosening on your neck and sliding over your chest a bit.

"Please touch me." You say in hushed tone, pushing yourself against him again. You can feel he's hard as well, but he's actually composed. You never understand how he doesn't fall apart in these kinds of situations, his self control is astonishing.

"Where?"

"W— what?" You breathe out. Why is he making this so unnecessarily hard?

"Take my hand where you want it." He demands, although the way he brings it might lead one to think it's a suggestion. Then again, you know your boyfriend; it's an order.

So, you do as he says and lead his hand from your ass to your pussy, pressing his finger against your clit. It's all Harry needs, the gentle direction, before he goes to work with his fingers. He rubs them over your panties, soaking them with each movement. You let out an impatient whine, the friction bringing so much stimulation and still it’s not enough. Harry laughs.

"So wet for me baby. Is this what I've been neglecting all night?" He asks sweetly, pulling down your panties until they fall to your ankles. The sounds of your drenched pussy filling the room is almost embarrassing, would it not be so fucking hot.

"Yes..." you say stubbornly, biting your lip to prevent yourself from moaning too loudly, which miserably fails when he slides one of his long fingers into you. "Oh..!"

"Could've just said you wanted me to take care of this." He goes on, a certain nonchalance to his tone that makes you go weak in the knees. His tone makes it seem like he isn't currently bringing his girlfriend dangerously close to an orgasm in a minimum amount of time. "Didn't have to run t'my teammates, now did you?"

You shake your head at his question when he slips in another finger. You've gotten used to the size of his fingers, but the harsh way he's thrusting them into you right now does somewhat hurt. He is punishing you by going rougher than usual, and the sole thought of that makes the pain melt away.

"Think I deserve an apology for that, don't you?" He says, slowing down his movements on purpose to get you riled up. He knows you want to come.

"I deserve an apology too." You say breathlessly, standing your ground despite the weak position he has you in. Harry raises a brow.

"Well I'm making it up to you now, aren't I?"

You're about to respond to that when Harry silences you by increasing the speed with which his fingers drive into you. Your jaw is slack as you feel the bubble in your lower stomach growing, especially as the heel of his palm continuously slaps against your clit. Your eyes are closed, so you don't notice Harry leaning in until you feel his hot breath fan against your ear.

"Apologize, and I'll let you come." He says, not slowing himself down in any way whatsoever. But you know your traitorous body by now, and you know how it always waits for Harry's permission to explode. It's as if he's in possession of a red button, and only when he presses it, it goes off.

"S—sorry..." you say, but it's barely comprehensible. You're beginning to fall apart.

"What was that, baby?" Harry's condescending tone matches his wicked grin as he waits for you to articulate yourself better.

"I'm sorry!" You sputter out, that explosion feeling awfully close by now. You throw your head back, holding onto the door knob for a bit of support.

"For?" He goes the extra mile, and you could kill him would you not be on the brink of death right now yourself.

"F—for being jealous." You cry out, your other hand quickly grabbing onto Harry's arm before your knees can buckle. He is quick to wrap his free arm around your waist to keep you upright.

"Good girl." He breathes out, his fingers soaked as they pound into you. You finally begin to explode. "You can come now. There you go, nothing to be jealous of. I'll always make you come baby... no one else."

Your cries are downright pathetic as you come around Harry's fingers, and as you ride out your release, you realize your mind is all foggy. You can't really comprehend Harry leading you to his bed and laying you down on it. The only thing you know is that he hasn't stopped moving his fingers.

"Harry..!" You croak out before you cut yourself off with a loud moan the moment that his tongue starts to suck at your clit. You begin to squirm, trying to get away from the sensitivity, but your boyfriend won't let you.

"N—no...oh!" It's hard to get a word out with him working on you so roughly. The sounds of his mouth and his fingers are extremely vulgar and equally the most arousing thing you've ever heard. "Harry I'm too— no!"

Your boyfriend keeps his pace despite your attempts to make him stop. You gasp when he takes his tongue off your clit for a split second. You look down at him, his chin glistening in your arousal.

"Beg for it." He commands, and attaches his tongue to your clit again.

Like a mindless fool, something switches inside you, and despite the uncomfortable sensitivity of your pussy, you find yourself begging for it, for him.

"Please, please, make me come!" You shout, and Harry really takes your begging to heart, because he adds even more pressure to your clit. And just like that, you explode again.

Despite having your eyes shut, you swear you're seeing the light as you convulse around your boyfriend's fingers. You can't control anything. The volume of your moans, the way your body spasms, or the amount of liquid that releases from your pussy.

Your cheeks are flushed and your ears are ringing by the time you open your eyes again. You look at Harry with tired shock in your eyes, but he just looks amazed.

"Fuck, I've never made you squirt before." He says, eyes flicking from you to the mess you made under him. He looks incredibly proud, which nicely compensates for the sheer embarrassment that has washed over your body.

He leans over you, whispering for you to look at him. You obey him sheepishly. The hint of a smile on his face is gentle now, and as soft as the thumb that sweep the lingering tear from your cheeks. He places a kiss on your nose, telling you you did good without saying anything at all.

"D'you need a minute baby?" He asks sweetly, but you're sure he must know you well enough by now to know what your answer is to that. You immediately shake your head. He smiles, fully this time. "No? You're ready to take me already?"

You nod frantically, and Harry chuckles as he unbuckles his pants and pulls out his cock. The sole sight of him makes your cunt ache to be filled up, and you find yourself moving towards him to hurry up the process.

"Aw, look how needy you are... already squirming and I haven't even been inside you yet." He tilts his head like the mean guy he is. You frown at your sadistic boyfriend, not saying anything. Instead, you buck your hips and hope your glistening pussy will speak for you.

It does, because Harry is quick to line up his cock with your entrance. However, instead of just entering you, he drags his tip over your slick folds, wetting his tip even more. You move your hips a couple of times, hoping it'll make his cock slide in by accident or something, but you have no luck.

"Harry!" You whine. "Please..."

The smirk on his face has turned evil once again as he drags his tip from your clit to your entrance.

"Poor baby..." He says in the most condescending tone that you clench around nothing. You swear you could come solely from that specific tone of his voice. "You getting frustrated?"

"Yes." You're swift to answer. "Please, I need it so bad..."

"Oh yeah?" He teases, pushing into you, but just the tip. You gasp at the crumbs you're getting, moaning in agreement.

"Yes! Please, more Harry, give me more." You try to convince him. He is painfully hard right now, so you know he's bound to give in sooner or later. It appears to be sooner, because with a moan, he pushes himself entirely into you.

You lose your breath as he fills you up all the way, getting more and more knocked out of you as he starts to set a pace. You can do nothing but cry out as he drives himself into your tight cunt, the sound of his groans making you even wetter.

He leans back a bit, observing you from above as he fucks you. Your tits are nearly bouncing out of your bra from all the movement, and your mouth doesn't do anything other than let out desperate moans as you let your boyfriend wreck your pussy. He relishes the sight.

"Taking it so well, baby." He breathes, pressing down on your lower stomach. "Can you feel that? Can you feel me?"

"Y—yeah! Oh my god..." Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the added pressure. Harry curses under his breath.

"God, if you could see yourself... You look so pretty for me right now." He mutters, his thrusts slowing slightly. You're lost in your pleasure, but you immediately notice when Harry's pulled out. Your head snaps towards him, confused as he pulls at your arm.

He doesn't say anything, just leads you to the bathroom. You're still a bit lost as to what is happening when he places your hands on the counter and forces you to bend over. You know what you're in for by the time he stands behind you.

"Watch yourself." He demands before pushing right back into and continuing the speedy pace he had before. Your strangled moans are hardly louder than the sound of skin slapping that echoes the bathroom. You do as he says, observing how your body moves in reaction to his actions.

A quiet gasp escapes your throat when Harry leans forward and tugs down the top of your bandeau dress, along with your strapless bra, causing your tits to recoil more heavily while he slams into you. Your knuckles go white from how hard you're holding onto the sink.

"F—fuck! I'm close!" You tell him, like he couldn't tell already by the way you're pathetically clenching around his cock.

"I know baby." He shushes your cries, but not slowing down in the slightest. In fact, his finger finds your clit, and when he starts to rub it, you realize just how sensitive you are.

"O—oh..! Wait, I don't know if I can—" You sob out, your head falling forward. You shut your eyes tightly, your orgasm starting to feel so incredibly big that you don't know if you can handle it.

"You can take it baby, c'mon..." He encourages you, and it takes everything in you to lift your head to look at him through the mirror. You don't want to miss his face when you come.

It's then that there's a knock on Harry's bedroom door.

"Fuck off!" Harry shouts, vigorously ramming into you like the interruption fueled him to stay focused.

You would've been thrown off by the door opening if you hadn't been so close to coming. That doesn't mean you're not slightly thrown off by the girl from earlier locking eyes with you through the mirror. You look back at Harry, who frowns and slams the bathroom door shut.

"I said fuck off!" He shouts angrily before his voice goes softer. "Come for me, baby."

That's all you need to climax around him for the third time tonight. The whole ordeal is too hot not to come like crazy around him, and your orgasm fuels his as he stills inside you with a loud groan.

"Fuck... So. Fucking. Good." He says, each word accompanied with a thrust as he spills his cum inside you.

Both of your breathing is still heavy as Harry collapses next to you. You lay there in silence for a couple of seconds, staring at the ceiling.

You slowly get up and enter the bathroom to pee and just clean yourself off a bit in general. Harry doesn’t come in, you think he doesn’t know if you would like that. You did just have a fight, and that girl barging into Harry’s room unprompted did kind of prove your point that she was trying to flirt with him.

When you walk back into the room, Harry is fully dressed again, sitting on the edge of the bed like he was when you came out of the bathroom the first time. The air is thick with unresolved tension. You take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widen at the identical words that are coming out of Harry’s mouth. You didn’t expect him to say that at all.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone so much.” Harry says, standing up and walking over to you. “I got caught up in talking to everyone and I saw you sitting with the guys so I foolishly figured you were having a good time.”

“Harry—”

“No, wait. I swear, at every person I talked to I thought, after this one I’m gonna go to Y/N, and then I kept getting interrupted. But intending to do something and then not doing it is just bullshit. I didn’t mean to be a bullshit boyfriend, I’m sorry.” He adds before you can try to intercept him. You sigh, a weak smile slowly appearing on your face.

“I love you.”

Somehow it’s the only thing your mind manages to come up with. You haven’t told each other that yet, so your ears immediately go red. Harry looks shocked, you can tell, but his eyes are beaming and in a matter of seconds he is smiling from ear to ear.

“And I’m sorry.” You continue. “I trust you, I swear, I do. I just saw the way she was looking at you and I mean— I get it, but it also made me sick because I feel I look at you like that. And if she can look at you that way, then maybe— I don’t know… my point is I’m sorry.”

“Maybe she can what?” Harry asks, suddenly frowning. When you don’t immediately answer, he grabs your face, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes go a little misty.

“Nothing, I’m being overdramatic.” You try to wave it off, but Harry doesn’t let you. His single raised eyebrow tells you to spill it, and so, naturally you do.

You sigh. “If she can look at you like I do, then she might be able to love you like I do, maybe even better.”

“No one can love me like you do.” Harry answers, determined. Your brows crease.

“How do you know that?” Your voice is trembling, and by the way Harry winces, you know you’ve just cracked a piece of his heart.

“You want to know why I’m sure no one can love me like you do?”

You nod, wondering how he can be so certain about this, about you.

“Because I’m letting you love me like no one else can.” He says it like it’s a fact. “I know there’s this narrative that love is this uncontrollable force, but it’s not, not for me. I let you love me, because I wanted you to. You let me in too, didn’t you? Because I love you.”

“Yes.” You croak.

“Right, I need you to understand that I didn’t fall in love with you. I walked into this with my eyes wide open, and I didn’t even fucking blink once. I still haven’t, and I’m pretty sure I never will.” He tells you, and you swallow, your throat burning from his heavy words. “I choose you, this, us, every day, and it’s the easiest and most natural decision I’ve ever made and will ever make.”

You smile at him, a tear rolling down your face.

“And no random girl at a party or whoever the fuck else can come between that, because I don’t want them to.”

You let out a small sob, and even though it’s a happy cry, it still weighs a ton on your chest. Harry pulls you into an embrace.

“Don’t keep those thoughts from me. I understand your anger way better now that I know this.” He tells you, rubbing your back. “I promise I’ll be more considerate of it.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve such an emotionally mature boyfriend.” You say, your words a bit muffled because your face is buried in his neck. Harry chuckles. You pull out of the hug.

“But I also need to figure out a way to prevent those thoughts from occurring, because I know they’re not true.” You say, sniffing a laugh. “I mean, I knew it when I thought it tonight as well. I was so mad it even popped up, but I guess what Dan said just kind of pushed me over the edge—”

“What Dan said?” Harry interrupts you. “What did he say?”

You bite your lip, afraid you might have said too much. “Just— that I was right to be jealous because it wouldn’t be the first relationship that girl has ‘ruined’.”

Harry’s jaw is clenched, and his eyes travel to the door. “I’m gonna have a word with him.”

You grab Harry’s arm, but he keeps heading for the door.

“Harry— stop!” You push the door shut when he opens it. He turns to you, and when you see the look on his face, you realize what’s happening.

“…Are you jealous?” You question carefully, and when he breathes out through his nose and looks away instead of answering you straight away, it’s only more confirmation that he is. “Oh my god… you’re jealous!”

“He’s been after you since that fucking assignment. I already reminded him you’re mine once, I have no problem reminding him again.”

The corner of your mouth lifts, and you cross your arms. “What happened to choosing to love each other? Don’t you trust that I’m choosing you— wait, what do you mean you already reminded him once?”

Harry rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t respond.

“When?” You urge.

“Couple months ago.”

You think back on a couple months ago, trying to figure out if anything was off, and then, suddenly you remember.

“You gave him that black eye?” You gasp, and he nods in confirmation. “Oh my god, he said it was from a game!”

Harry shrugs. “It was during practice.”

“That’s why you got benched?” You finally put the pieces together. “You little liar!”

There is not one ounce of regret on Harry’s face as he takes your small slaps to his chest. You’re not mad, in fact you’re amused. You’re so getting a free pass from now on.

“So what? You’re gonna beat him up because you want him to know I belong to you?” You tilt your head, and Harry winces, probably realizing how old-dated that sounds. You smirk.

“That’s so fucking hot.” You confess in a whisper. That catches Harry’s attention. You back up towards the bed, and he follows you like a puppy.

“D’you think you could put that on hold, though, and remind me who I belong to first?” You ask, sitting down and leaning back on the bed. The sight of Harry being so primal about you has fired your whole body up again for a round two, despite the three orgasms you’ve had already. Harry grins.

“You know I’ll never say no to you…”

[fushitoru]

chapter 3: the manor a bridgerton!au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, heir to a dukedom mr. satoru gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ you and gojo have just uncovered your mothers' matchmaking scheme: a plan that sends you both to his extravagant countryside manor in kent, arriving a week earlier than the rest of the ton. the question remains—can you endure gojo's insufferable nature during this secluded stay? (8.3k)

prev. the aftermath | next. the game

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n krnfeknfkejrn i was so tired writing this chapter but used it to procrastinate on the reports and papers i have to write for internship/reports (wtf is quantum physics anyways). ty as always to @/sinn-clair for being the best beta reader <33333

Dear readers, 

Apparently, last week, there was an altercation in Lady Itadori’s drawing room involving Lord Gojo, Miss Itadori, and a dog. The dog was the victor. 

Furthermore, If one is to trust the betting books, then Lord Gojo shall be witness to wedding bells before the year is through.

As much as it pains This Author to agree with the betting books (they are written by men, and thus inherently flawed), This Author must concur in the prediction.

Duchess Gojo will soon have her daughter-in-law. But who she will be⸺ah, Gentle Reader, that is still anyone’s guess. 

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Mary Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication of the Rights of Woman⸺a work I have long heard whispers about but never fully encountered until now. Her words, as bold as they are revolutionary, have struck a chord deep within me. She speaks of the education and independence of women, of our capacity for reason and our right to be regarded as more than mere adornments to the lives of men. Her arguments are so meticulously crafted, so unwavering in their conviction, that they have compelled me to reflect on my own circumstances.

I confess, there is something intoxicating about the notion that women might be more than what society has so neatly confined us to be. Is it truly so outlandish to consider that we, too, possess minds capable of great thought and spirits yearning for freedom?

I cannot help but wonder if there will ever come a time when these two worlds might reconcile⸺the status quo and that of what the book articulates. When women might be both respected and fre

Before you could finish writing in your diary, you suddenly heard frantic footsteps down the hallway, leading closer and closer to your door. Nobara bursts into the room, and you look up at her in confusion and, partially, dread. Nobara wouldn’t be bursting into your room unless there was someone who absolutely couldn’t see what you were doing in your past time.

Before she could catch her breath, she wheezed out, “Your mother.”

You quickly hopped into action with practiced and routine movements. Lunging for the floorboard that had hollow space beneath it, you moved it so you could place the book and your diary underneath and quickly hide evidence of you reading scandalous and radical works.

Just in time, it seemed, as your mother walked into your room to see you on your bed.

She squinted her eyes in suspicion. “What were you doing?”

You averted her gaze. “Nothing, just daydreaming, Mama.”

Usually, she would prod further into the matter, but it seemed as if she was too excited for that. Clapping her hands, she exclaimed, “I have just got an exclusive invitation for you! One that could secure you a very good match.”

You gave her a quizzical look as she walked closer, sitting at the foot of your bed with an expression of barely contained glee. “We shall be visiting the Gojo estate in Kent!”

At the mention of his name, your left eye twitched, though your mother remained oblivious. “Indeed, Mama? As is every other lady in London, I presume.”

“No, no,” she replied, waving your quip away with a dismissive hand. “We are to arrive at the Gojo estate before the house party.”

Your heart sank, dread pooling in your stomach. Oh, no, no, no, no. A sudden pressure gripped your chest, and you found yourself clutching at the bodice of your dress as if to steady your racing heart. “Before the house party, Mama?” Your voice, despite your best efforts, came out higher-pitched than usual, though you tried to maintain a semblance of composure. “Whatever for?”

“To secure an advantage, of course!” she replied with a bright smile, as though the matter were the simplest thing in the world. “The Gojo family has extended a personal invitation for us to stay with them for a few days prior to the event. It is plain to see⸺he is quite taken with you. Even that dreadful Lady Whistledown has noted as much.” She smiled indulgently, reaching out to gently smooth a stray lock of your hair. “It is your natural grace and charm, my dear, that has made you the season’s diamond.”

As your mother continued to speak, the twisting in your stomach began to intensify, morphing from nausea into something sharper, something more akin to anger. You kept nodding, trying to maintain a slightly pained smile, but the thought of spending time at the Gojo manor, in such close quarters with him, became increasingly unbearable. The memories of your recent encounters⸺his biting remarks, his mocking gaze⸺were still fresh in your mind, and the idea that you were being pushed toward an engagement with him made your skin crawl. But you knew better than to express your true feelings to your mother.

“That is… unexpected,” you managed to say, choosing your words carefully. “Are you certain this is a good idea, Mama? Perhaps we might appear too eager and ward off other potential suitors, lest they mistake me as claimed by Gojo?”

“Nonsense!” she replied with a dismissive laugh. “If all goes well, you’ll be announcing your engagement at the house party itself!”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You could hardly breathe as the full weight of what she was saying sank in. An engagement. To Gojo.

You almost felt faint, but as the initial shock wore off, it was replaced by a simmering anger. How dare he? How dare Gojo make a game of this, toying with you as if your future was nothing more than a sport to him? And how could your mother not see that she was playing right into his hands?

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure, but the anger was bubbling up, threatening to spill over. “But, Mama, what if he does not wish to marry? What if he simply enjoys… toying with people?”

Your mother’s expression softened as she reached out to pat your hand, oblivious to the storm brewing inside you. “My dear, you are overthinking this. Men like Lord Gojo may seem playful and insouciant, but they are ultimately driven by duty. A man in his position knows the importance of finding a suitable wife, and you⸺my darling⸺are just the woman for the role. You are intelligent, accomplished, and beautiful. He would be a fool not to see that.”

Each word only fueled the fire of your anger. Duty? Suitable wife? You bit your lip, feeling the weight of her expectations press down on you like a suffocating blanket. But beneath that weight was a growing resolve, a refusal to be treated like a pawn in some grand game of power and prestige. Gojo might enjoy playing with others' lives, but you would not be his plaything.

You gave her a pained smile. “If you say so, Mama…” you replied, the anger now evident in the tightness of your voice.

“Of course, I do!” she declared, rising from the bed with a self-satisfied smile. “Now, we must begin preparations immediately. There is much to be done before we depart.”

As your mother closed the door, you stormed over to the floorboard, whipped open your diary and prepped your quill to furiously write: 

Lord Gojo is a most intolerable wretch. Though his outward appearance might deceive many, there is an endless well of impurities within his character.

Indeed, God truly blesses the wrong soldiers with features such as his. However, I take pride in being one of His strongest for I possess the fortitude to resist the temptation of ending Gojo’s miserable existence myself.

Were Sukuna here, I daresay he would assist me in disposing of the body with great enthusiasm.

While the Gojo dinner table was stocked with the finest of meals⸺that deserving of a wealthy dukedom, of course⸺Satoru found himself eyeing one dish of all⸺the scones.

Observing his mother and father, who were engrossed in deep conversation, he realized he could make the move. As discreetly as he could, he stocked his plate with many of the treats. The cook, bless his soul, knew how to make scones exactly right: soft, yet hard around the edges that have Satoru drooling when he takes a bite in to get a burst of flavor. He discreetly tucked a few sweets into his pocket for tonight’s work session on some Gojo business, thinking himself subtle.

Satoru could continue writing endless love poems in his head towards his chef’s scones, But Lady Gojo, ever watchful, noticed his little scheme. She arched an eyebrow, her tone teasing as she remarked, "Satoru, darling, it astonishes me that you remain so fit with such a fondness for sweets."

Without missing a beat, Gojo flashed his usual charming smile and responded, “Perhaps it is because I am kept on my toes constantly by you, Mother.” His parents shared a laugh at this, clearly amused by his playful banter.

The Gojo dining fell into a comfortable lull once again, sounds of forks and knives scratching against porcelain plates. The silence was better, Satoru believed. Because he knew he was not going to be pleased at what his father had to say to him next, judged based on the thoughtful look he adopted while staring at Gojo. 

“And how fares the season, Satoru? Have you made any progress?”

Satoru wanted to groan so bad, but instead, he straightened in his seat, the smile on his face now simply a facade. “I am confident all will proceed as expected, Father,” he replied, though his tone lacked its usual certainty.

Duke Gojo narrowed his eyes slightly, sensing something amiss. “Are you sure about that?” he probed. “You know very well, Satoru, that your inheritance of the title is contingent upon securing a wife and producing an heir. This is not a matter to be taken lightly.”

The weight of his father’s words hung in the air, pressing down on Gojo with the full force of expectation.  Would it be eccentric if I decided to scream to the heavens right now?

Before Gojo could even formulate a response, his mother, ever the one to steer the conversation, interjected with a delighted exclamation. “Oh, it’s all handled, my dear! Did you not hear? The diamond of the season is arriving a week early to our manor in the countryside!”

All thoughts of screaming himself mute vanished as his mother’s words piqued his interest. Now, this was interesting. You? Spending time with him, under his roof, with no escape? The idea alone was enough to spark a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Satoru almost started cackling maniacally at the thought of pestering you until you broke that oh-so-perfect and uptight demeanor of yours, until you were reduced to exactly what you were: an unruly and highly emotional know-it-all.

One could say Satoru was very bitter about the losses he had bore for that horse race.

As a self-assured smirk started to creep up Satoru’s face, Duke Gojo blinked, surprised by the news. “A week early? That’s quite unusual,” he remarked, turning his gaze back to his son.

Satoru offered a sweet smile. “Yes, unusual indeed.” He knew his parents were well aware of the marital implications of such an arrangement, and he could feel their eyes on him, gauging his reaction.

But Duchess Gojo, satisfied with her announcement, continued with a gleeful smile. “I daresay, it’s all coming together perfectly. Even matchmakers could not have planned it better.”

Indeed, Mother! The prospect grew more delightful with each passing second, and the corners of his mouth curled into a sly grin. You were in for quite the week, and he would relish every moment of ruining your composure.

Yuji leaned in closer, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied your face. “Sister, did you perhaps neglect the chamber pot today?” he asked, his tone teasing but his gaze serious. “Your expression is quite telling.”

 The carriage, though spacious, felt suffocating with the tension hanging in the air. Your mother sat by the window, her eyes sparkling with what could only be described as gleeful scheming regarding your imminent week at the Gojo manor. You, on the other hand, simmered with barely contained fury, with a pinch of nausea, your thoughts consumed with how you would confront Gojo at the ball you were all headed to. Yuji’s scrutiny only added to your irritation, his amused yet concerned face a stark contrast to your stormy mood. Across from you, Choso couldn’t suppress a snicker at Yuji’s comment, clearly enjoying the exchange.

You snapped, unable to contain your frustration any longer. “Yuji, if you do not cease your incessant prying, I shall see to it that you regret ever opening your mouth!”

Yuji flinched, visibly startled by your outburst. His confidence wavered as he stammered, “I⸺I meant no harm, sister.” He quickly extended his elbow to you, his movements almost robotic in their sudden politeness. “Please, allow me to escort you inside.”

You ignored the offer, your focus already elsewhere. The moment the carriage came to a stop, you heaved yourself off, stepping into the entrance. Grand revelry was before you; many suitors and young ladies were present, necks glittering with diamonds and hands adorned with gloves. Roving your gaze around, you saw him.

The world around you seemed to blur as your gaze locked onto Gojo, everything else fading into the background. A sleazy and handsome grin on his face, definitely talking about some useless nonsense. 

Like a bull seeing red, you marched forward with determined fury, your sights set solely on him. He stood there, the picture of nonchalance, completely unaware of the storm heading his way. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your anger propelling you forward with each step. Yuji and Choso exchanged confused glances as they lingered by the entrance, unsure of what had just transpired.

As you closed the distance, Gojo finally noticed you, his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. But there was no time for his usual banter; you were ready to confront him head-on, no matter the consequences.

“What have you done?” you roared, striding towards Gojo. His head turned slowly, an amused and condescending smile creeping across his face. “I know this is⸺”

“Miss Itadori,” a voice hissed, dripping with offense. You turned to see Miss Yuki glaring at you. “Lord Gojo and I were in the midst of a very private conversation.”

You blinked, realizing that in your anger, you had entirely overlooked Miss Yuki’s presence. Though inwardly rolling your eyes, you knew it was best to maintain decorum. You curtsied in apology. “My sincerest apologies, Miss Yuki. I shall leave you both to continue your conversation.”

As you stepped back, giving them respectable space, Miss Yuki side-eyed you with a sharp “hmph!” before turning back to Gojo with a flirtatious smile.

“So, my lord,” Yuki began, her tone coy, “what type of woman would be to your liking?”

Gojo scratched his chin, feigning deep thought as he prepared his response. “Well, Miss Yuki, I would imagine she must be intelligent, accomplished, and⸺” He paused dramatically, taking her hand and kissing the back of it with a slow, deliberate drawl, “⸺and beautiful.”

You suppressed a sigh. Does he never tire of that tiresome gesture? It’s grown exceedingly dull.

Yuki’s pleased grin widened. “And what level of intellect do you find satisfactory, my lord?”

“Well,” Gojo mused, “I would prefer a lady well-versed in calculations. I often find myself making errors in my ledgers late at night, and a wife who could assist would be most valuable. Moreover, I would enjoy engaging in debates on scientific matters.”

Is he seeking a wife or an accountant?

The unusual nature of his request clearly left Yuki taken aback. She blinked, her smile tightening. “Indeed, Lord Gojo, these are rather...uncommon expectations for a wife.” Yuki then hesitated, glancing around as though searching for an escape. “Well, my lord, as intriguing as this conversation has been, I fear I must take my leave. My mother has been awaiting my return, and I would not wish to keep her waiting.”

She curtsied with a strained smile, clearly eager to extricate herself from the awkward situation Gojo’s peculiar standards had created. Without waiting for a reply, she swiftly turned and made her exit, leaving you alone to confront Gojo, who now had an amused look on his face, as if he had purposefully answered that way to ward Miss Yuki off.

You pointed your finger at him, wagging it accusingly as you hissed, “Gojo, I know this was one of your ploys.”

He let out an exaggerated groan, and he dropped all flirtatious pretenses he had adopted when conversing with the other lady. “Ah, yes. Please, by all means, heap more blame upon me for things entirely beyond my control. I derive immense pleasure from being the target of your needless and misdirected fury.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

With a strained smile, he sighed. “It seems our mothers have taken it upon themselves to orchestrate this entire charade.”

Your hands flew up in exasperation. “I cannot believe this! I would sooner perish than marry you, and heaven help me if I were ever to bear your children!”

“Spare me the theatrics,” Gojo replied, shaking his head as if amused by your outburst. He inclined his head slightly, gesturing toward something in the distance. “We are being observed.”

You followed his gaze and saw, across the dance floor, both of your mothers trying—albeit poorly—to appear inconspicuous as they exchanged furtive glances and whispered behind their fans.

You huffed in frustration, turning back to Gojo. “This is absurd.”

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in closer. “But would it be so terrible to bear my children?” he murmured, his tone teasing yet somehow serious.

Your pulse quickened at his words, but you refused to let it show. You straightened your posture, meeting his gaze with as much poise as you could muster. “I can’t think of far worse fates, my lord,” you replied, a touch of sarcasm lacing your words.

Gojo’s smile widened, clearly undeterred. His hand brushed lightly against your arm, the touch fleeting but enough to send a shiver down your spine.. You felt a slight tremor of awareness course through you, and despite your best efforts, a hint of warmth crept into your cheeks.

He leaned in even closer, his voice a low murmur. “You seem flustered, Miss Itadori,” he said, his breath warm against your skin. “I must admit, the idea of a future with you is… intriguing.”

Flustered and at a loss of witty remarks, you stammered, struggling to find your voice. “I⸺I hardly think that⸺”

Gojo’s smile widened, clearly enjoying your reaction. He gently took your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His eyes had this sultry expression to them, one that you didn’t need to ponder more than one second to know had no good intentions. 

With that, he released your hand, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding and your cheeks aflame.

Gojo ⸺ 1, You ⸺ 1. 

Choso crossed his arms, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Mother, why are we departing a week earlier than the rest of the ton?”

The carriage rocked gently, the luggage rattling with the motion. You slumped in your seat, weary from the long hours of travel, your thoughts drifting to the comfort of a soft, fluffy bed. Your mother, noticing the beads of sweat forming on your brow, handed you a handkerchief before turning to respond to Choso. “Well, my dear, your sister has caught the eye of Lord Gojo, and his mother has personally invited us to arrive early so that we may become better acquainted.”

Your eldest brother frowned, while Yuji stared vacantly out the carriage window, enraptured by the sheep present on the farm you were passing. “But why should we do so?” Choso pressed, his tone firm. “It is not as though Sister is lacking in suitors. Why should we entertain Lord Gojo’s interest above all others?”

Even in your heat-induced lightheadedness, your attention was drawn to Choso’s defense of you. A flicker of hope ignited in your chest; as the viscount, Choso held considerable authority over your mother, and he could potentially influence the matrimonial decisions made on your behalf.

“Lord Gojo is the most eligible bachelor of the season,” your mother insisted. “We would be foolish not to seize such an opportunity.”

Choso retorted quickly, “And Sister is the most eligible lady of the season. She is the diamond. If Lord Gojo’s eligibility rests on his title, would we not do better to pursue a match with Duke Nanami?”

You silently cheered Choso on, hoping he might sway your mother’s mind away from the ridiculous notion of a match between you and Gojo.

But your mother was not easily deterred. “I am quite set on Lord Gojo, Choso,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “Your sister seems to have formed a rapport with him, and this is about more than just titles. We must also consider her inclinations.”

Both your mother and Choso turned their expectant gazes upon you, awaiting your response. Flustered and unwilling to directly oppose your mother, you swallowed nervously and nodded. “Whatever you think best, Mother.”

The remainder of the ride was marked by the satisfied smile on Lady Itadori’s face and the glowers⸺yet paired with concerned glances⸺from Choso.

The slowing of the carriage and its turn onto a smooth pathway roused you from the gentle lull of travel. You blinked your eyes open and glanced outside. A magnificent flower bed greeted you, a sea of blues ranging from the palest sky hues to deep indigo. But what truly stole your breath was the manor itself⸺more a castle than a mere country home. Its grandiose structure rivaled Buckingham Palace in regality, with elegant blue spires and stately beige stone walls that seemed to stretch towards the heavens.

The carriage came to a complete halt at the base of a grand staircase, where Duchess Gojo stood waiting, surrounded by footmen and maids all dressed in coordinated baby blue livery. As the carriage door was opened, you, your mother, Choso, and Yuji stepped out into the warm afternoon air.

“Lady Itadori!” Duchess Gojo descended the stairs gracefully, her arms extended in greeting. Your mother met her with an equally warm embrace.

“Your Grace,” your mother replied fondly, her face lighting up with familiarity. The duchess then turned her gaze towards you, her smile gracious and welcoming.

“And this must be our diamond,” Duchess Gojo said warmly, her eyes twinkling.

You offered her a polite smile and curtsied. “Miss Itadori, Your Grace. I am deeply honored by your hospitality.”

She waved off your formality with a flick of her hand. “The pleasure is entirely ours, my dear. We are delighted to have you with us, and I do hope that you and my son will find ample time to get better acquainted before the house party.”

You returned her smile, though unease stirred within you. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Choso and Yuji introduced themselves with the same practiced politeness, and after the formalities were concluded, the duchess clapped her hands together. “Come now, let us take tea. You must be quite fatigued from your journey. I shall have the staff see to your rooms so you may rest after.” She directed the servants to unload the luggage from the carriages and then motioned for you all to follow her into the manor. “To the drawing room!”

As you crossed the threshold into the manor, you were struck by the sheer opulence surrounding you. The high ceilings were adorned with intricate gold and blue detailing, and the walls were lined with endless portraits of the Gojo family. Your gaze was momentarily drawn to a portrait of Lord Gojo himself. The artist had rendered his eyes in a cold, oceanic blue—quite unlike the electric blue intensity they held in person. The painting failed to capture the vitality, and perhaps the insufferable smugness, that characterized his gaze.

You quickly looked away before anyone could notice your lingering stare, hurrying to catch up with your family as you reached a grand set of double doors. Footmen stood at attention as Duchess Gojo led you into a drawing room, elegantly appointed with plush furnishings and laden with trays of sweets.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” the duchess urged, gesturing towards the seating. She and your mother settled at a small table near the door, while you and your siblings gravitated toward the couches in the center of the room, where a tempting array of desserts awaited. As you sat down, maids swiftly arranged teacups and began pouring the tea. Yuji and Choso took seats across from you, their expressions reflecting varying degrees of interest—or lack thereof—in the proceedings.

“So, Miss Itadori,” You looked across the room to look at the duchess, who was leaning further to grab at her teacup and take a sip. “How do you find this season?”

���I find the suitors of this season very pleasing and kind, Your Grace,” you sat up fully, placing the scone you were eating down to fully face the duchess. “It has been a very extravagant season; I hope to continue my search to find a suitable match for myself.” Duchess Gojo nodded. “An admirable pursuit, of course. Is a love match what you are searching for?”

Her question hung in the air, and in that instant, you felt the weight of every gaze in the room fall upon you. The most searing of them all, though, was your mother's. You could feel it like a prickling heat against your skin, a silent reminder of the expectations that had been laid out before you long ago.

A love match. The words echoed in your mind, each syllable twisting into a knot of uncertainty. The very idea of love seemed foreign to you—elusive, abstract, something that belonged in novels rather than in the practical world of arranged marriages and alliances. Love was not what you had been taught to seek. No, your upbringing had been grounded in duty, decorum, and the quiet understanding that marriage was a contract, a union of convenience rather than passion.

But how could you say that aloud? How could you tell the duchess—tell anyone—that your dreams did not include the fiery passion of a love match, but rather the comfort of a peaceful arrangement? Your throat tightened, and the words that had once seemed so simple lodged themselves in the back of your mouth, refusing to emerge.

Your mother’s eyes bore into you, filled with unspoken expectations. You knew what she wanted to hear: that you were pursuing love, that you were open to it, that you were the ideal picture of a hopeful young lady seeking her romantic equal. But that wasn’t your truth. Your truth was more complicated, filled with desires for stability, understanding, and a life unburdened by the chaos that love so often seemed to bring.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the beat almost deafening in the sudden silence of the room. What were you supposed to say? How could you balance the delicate line between honesty and propriety?

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, you swallowed hard, the dryness in your throat making it nearly impossible to find your voice. The tension swirled within you, an unrelenting force that made you wish you could simply disappear. What if they could see through you? What if, with one wrong word, they uncovered the truth of what you really wanted—a marriage that was practical, peaceful, and devoid of the complications that came with love?

But that wasn’t something you could admit. Not here. Not now.

You forced a polite smile, hoping it hid the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind.

Before the weight of the room could settle further, the heavy double doors swung open with a soft yet deliberate creak. Every head turned in unison, and the air seemed to shift as your savior, Satoru Gojo made his entrance.

His attire was impeccable—a finely tailored waistcoat of deep blue, embroidered with silver thread that caught the light just so, paired with polished boots that gleamed as if they had never touched the ground. Yet, despite the formal attire, there was an air of disarming casualness about him, a kind of effortless elegance that made the room's grandeur seem almost insignificant by comparison.

His damp hair, still tousled from what must have been a recent bath, added an edge to his otherwise polished appearance. Droplets of water shimmered at the tips of his white locks, catching the light as he ran a hand through them. The scent of his cologne, rich and intoxicating, seemed to announce his arrival to you even before he spoke.

He strolled in with an air of ease. “It seems that our guests are finally here!” He moved with an easy grace, crossing the room in a few long strides, bowing slightly to the duchess and your mother before turning his attention to you. His gaze lingered on you for just a moment longer than necessary, a playful glint in his eyes as if he could sense the internal battle you had been fighting mere seconds ago.

“Miss Itadori,” he greeted you with a smile that could have melted the iciest of hearts, “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.”

Your mother’s eyes lit up at the sight of him. “Ah, Satoru! Come, sit with us.” She motioned to the spot next to you with enthusiasm. “Why don’t you and Miss Itadori sit together?”

Choso’s sharp gaze followed him with a hint of suspicion, but he made no objection as Gojo accepted the invitation, seating himself beside you with an infuriatingly confident smile. Yuji and Choso remained on the opposite couch, observing the scene with varying degrees of curiosity and caution.

“Well then,” Gojo began, grabbing an obscene amount of scones to heap on his plate, “I was just at the 

archery range earlier today. Quite the exhilarating sport. I find it sharpens the mind as much as the aim.”

Yuji, ever the admirer of feats of physical skill, leaned forward with interest. “Archery, my lord? That sounds remarkable! I must admit, I’ve always found it to be one of the noblest of pursuits.”

Gojo leaned back into the couch, resting one arm casually behind you on the backrest, his posture the very picture of relaxed confidence. He smiled at Yuji’s enthusiasm and continued, “Archery has long been a favored pastime of mine. It requires precision, patience, and an understanding of balance—qualities I find both necessary and rewarding. I've dedicated many years to perfecting my skill with the bow.”

He paused, allowing a slight, reflective smile to touch his lips. “In fact, just last month, I competed in the annual tournament at Her Majesty’s estate and managed to hit the bullseye in every round. Some of the other competitors remarked that it was almost unnatural, but I assure you, it is merely the result of countless hours spent at the range.”

Yuji’s eyes widened with admiration. “Every round? That’s incredible, Lord Gojo! Your dedication must be unparalleled.”

Gojo shrugged with mock humility, though his eyes glinted with pride. “It’s all in the discipline, really. Once you understand the rhythm of the draw and the release, it becomes second nature. Of course, the challenge is in maintaining that focus while under pressure. But I’ve found that to be the most exhilarating part—especially when the crowd is watching.”

Yuji nodded fervently, clearly enthralled. “I would love to see you in action, my lord! Perhaps you could give me a few pointers one day.”

Gojo chuckled, his gaze shifting to you for a moment before returning to Yuji. “Ah, I’m sure you’d take it quite well, Yuji. Perhaps we could all visit the range together during your stay here.”

 The nonchalant arrogance in his voice, paired with the image of him lording his skill over others, irritated you. You couldn’t resist a small quip, your tone light. “Oh, indeed, Lord Gojo. Your accomplishments are so profound that I fear I might believe you are telling tales. Of course, I wonder with all this focus on archery, do you leave any time for pursuits that require a bit more… finesse?”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as they met yours, his gaze sharp with understanding. Yet, rather than take offense, he allowed a playful smirk to curl on his lips, his voice laced with teasing intent. “Ah, Miss Itadori, archery indeed requires finesse, I assure you. But perhaps you’d care to test that claim yourself? I’d be more than happy to provide a demonstration.”

As he leaned in closer, you found yourself all too aware of his presence. The scent of his cologne, a warm and intoxicating blend of vanilla and tobacco, filled the air between you, making it difficult to maintain your composure. His face hovered just near enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke.

“In fact,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone, “I’d wager that with a little practice, you might find yourself hitting the mark with more than just words.”

His proximity made your heart skip a beat, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. Despite your resolve to remain composed, the effect of his closeness and the quiet intensity in his voice left you momentarily at a loss for words.

Choso, sitting across from you, gave Gojo a sharp look. Meanwhile, Yuji was practically beaming at the prospect of an archery lesson from the lord himself.

You inhaled sharply, trying to steady yourself. “Perhaps,” you replied, your voice more controlled than you expected, though there was still a slight quiver in it. “But I’ve found that words can be just as powerful, if not more so.”

Gojo smirked, his gaze lingering on your face as if savoring the moment. The challenge in his eyes was unmistakable, and you could feel the weight of it, pressing against your own resolve. But you wouldn’t allow him to see just how much he affected you—at least, not yet. 

Despite the warmth in your cheeks and the flutter in your chest, you held his gaze, meeting his playful intensity with your own determined calm.

However, your mother’s voice broke through the spell. “Oh, Your Grace, might we have a tour of the manor sometime?”

Duchess Gojo, clearly delighted to show off her home, nodded eagerly. “Of course! There is a pavilion overlooking our garden where we can play pall-mall, and the library is quite extensive.” Your interest piqued at the mention of the library, and you made yourself a mental note to explore where it was.

Then she turned her gaze towards you, her expression growing more conspiratorial. “And as for Miss Itadori, Satoru has promised to give her a personal tour of the grounds tomorrow after she takes rest today.”

You stiffened at the suggestion, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Gojo lean in slightly, his mischievous grin widening as he whispered, “I’ll be sure to make it… thorough.”

You couldn’t sleep.

Restless thoughts kept you tossing and turning, denying you any hope of finding solace in slumber. The events of the day had left you drained, and after the conversation in the drawing room, you had collapsed into the plush, inviting bed. Sleep had claimed you almost instantly. But now, in the dark silence of the night, you awoke with a start, your mind refusing to quiet. No matter how you tried, you couldn’t escape the whirlwind of thoughts that stirred within you.

The prospect of the coming days loomed over you, a storm of anxiety brewing. Spending time with Gojo, of all people? Your mother’s insistent push for this potential marriage was unbearable. How could you possibly tell her that you despised the man? The mere thought of being bound to him in matrimony was a nightmare⸺marriage itself was daunting enough, but to an arrogant, loquacious, and insufferably self-assured man like him? It would be nothing short of Hell on earth.

With a frustrated sigh, you rose from bed and rubbed your face, trying to dispel the fog of sleeplessness. Perhaps a visit to the manor’s library⸺the one mentioned during tea⸺would offer some distraction. Grabbing a lantern, you slipped out of your room, treading softly down the stairs and into the main hallway. You moved with the caution of a thief; your mother would surely not approve of your nocturnal wanderings. Her voice echoed in your mind, sharp and reprimanding: “Good things never happen in the dead of night!”

As you opened the library’s grand doors, a soothing fragrance enveloped you⸺the scent of aged paper mingled with a hint of vanilla, a fragrance unique to this room. But what truly took your breath away was the sheer size of the library.

Bookshelves lined the walls, rising two stories high, creating a space that could easily have served as a grand ballroom. Cozy nooks beckoned you to sit, while further exploration revealed tables and armchairs tucked away behind towering shelves. It was a bibliophile’s paradise.

Your eyes roved over the multitude of volumes: ancient ledgers, personal family records, scholarly works on politics, astronomy, and the sciences. Though you did not often indulge in scientific pursuits, you found them fascinating whenever the opportunity arose. One book in particular caught your eye:

Observations on the Planet Venus.

Drawn to the back of the library, you found a large window offering a stunning view of the garden and pavilion, bathed in starlight. You couldn’t resist the allure of the table beside it, where you settled in and began to read.

“The planet Venus is an object that has long engaged my particular attention. A series of observations upon it, which I began in April, 1777, has been continued down to the present time…”

Time slipped away as you became engrossed in the text, the lantern’s light flickering softly as you pored over the meticulous observations and calculations. Your hands were soon stained with ink, evidence of the notes you had been feverishly jotting down on scraps of parchment you had found in a supply cabinet. A good hour or two had passed before you finally leaned back, stretching your tired muscles. You rested your head on your arms, intending to close your eyes for just a moment. Soon, you found that your sleepy brain forced you to reflect and muse upon your life, as a mind often does at three.

What a pity it was that you couldn’t bear the thought of marrying Gojo. If only he were different, you might have lived in this manor, with its perfect library, forever. You could imagine it: waking in the mornings in your fluffy bed, sharing the latest discoveries in astronomy and medicine with your handsome husband…

Truly, what a pity. Your sleep-deprived mind began to conjure an image of this imagined husband—tall, nearly Gojo’s height, with kind eyes and lips that would kiss you gently awake each morning (unlike Gojo’s snark). You envisioned banter over breakfast, late-night rendezvous in the library, and tender embraces in bed…

Before you could delve deeper into your fantasy, the sound of footsteps jolted you back to reality. The tread was deliberate, too similar to your mother’s for comfort, and panic flared within you. Your mind, already muddled with exhaustion, conjured the worst possible scenario—your mother finding you here, in the library where you had no business being at this hour.

Memories of her discovering forbidden books in your childhood flashed before your eyes, and your breath quickened in fear. Rising as quietly as you could, you pressed your hands over your mouth to stifle any sound, creeping toward a bookshelf to hide. But the footsteps drew closer, relentless in their pursuit. You felt like prey, cornered and desperate.

Getting out of your chair as quietly as you could, you squeezed your eyes shut and put both of your hands over your mouth so you didn’t start making audible gasps that would let the person know where you were immediately. Softly⸺but panickedly⸺walking towards a bookshelf, you hid as you traced the footsteps getting closer and closer to you. You tried to walk away from the sound, but it seemed like the person was listening intently for your movements. You couldn’t help but think you were like prey, cornered and desperate.

However, it was all for naught; your heart sank as you realized you had ended up in an alley of bookshelves that were up against the wall, essentially creating a dead end for you. The steps got closer and closer, and you drew yourself closer and closer to the wall. Your eyes was still shut, but you could hear the steps around the corner, coming closer and closer. 

The footsteps were merely a few feet away from you, and in a moment of sheer panic, you blurted out, “I am sorry, Mother⸺”

“Excuse me,” came a voice that was decidedly not your mother’s. Your eyes flew open to find none other than Gojo, his blue eyes alight with offense. “Do I resemble your mother in any way?”

You blinked, struggling to process the sight before you. He was holding a quill, ink, and a stack of notebooks that resembled the ledgers you had seen earlier, along with a plate of scones that looked absurdly sugary.

“I—” you stammered, taking a sharp breath to compose yourself and paused, looking at Gojo⸺who was shooting you a petulant frown⸺take a big bite of his scone. “Your tread was uncannily similar.”

He paused, chewing on a scone with a sulky expression, while you averted your gaze in embarrassment.

When he finished chewing, he cleared his throat. “You must possess rather poor hearing to mistake a man of my stature for a lady.”

You shrugged, still flustered. “Perhaps you have an unusually light step.”

An awkward silence settled between you as Gojo took another loud bite of his scone. You hastened to break it. “It is quite late; I must take my leave. Good night, my lord.”

You bowed your head slightly and moved to leave, but before you could slip past him, he blocked your path, suspicion narrowing his gaze. “What business do you have in the Gojo library at this hour?”

“Nothing of import,” you squeaked.

At the not-very-innocuous tone in your voice, his eyes narrowed further. “Your tone suggests otherwise.” He leaned in, his gaze sweeping over you with exaggerated scrutiny. Noticing the ink stains on your hands, he quipped, “Were you tampering with important records?”

Your heart raced, knowing that he wouldn’t be entirely wrong to suspect you⸺what else would a lady be doing in a library at this hour? It was a no-win situation: confess to reading a book and risk your mother’s wrath, or be accused of something far more serious.

It was best to come clean. “I was merely reading a book,” you confessed. “I can show you precisely where I sat and what I was doing.”

Gojo’s expression softened, but he quickly continued his theatrical suspicion and hmmphed. “Of course. I must be certain that no mischief has been afoot.”

You led him back to the table where you had been reading. He sat across from you, depositing his supplies onto the table with a flourish and leaned back, crossing his arms. Ever the investigator, he watched as you retrieved the book. It bore no resemblance to the Gojo ledgers, which had the telltale blue cover and Gojo insignia, which consisted of six eyes. 

Upon seeing this, he nodded in acknowledgment. “You are exonerated.”

At that, you sighed and clutched your chest. For a moment, you contemplated pleading with Gojo to keep your late library visit secret from your mother but you shot the idea down for two reasons. First, you would never lower yourself to plead with Gojo, and second, Gojo⸺ever the insufferable man⸺would definitely make sure to mention it to your mother and further exacerbate the issue. 

As he began arranging his ink bottles and quills, preparing to work on his ledgers, you took a moment to observe him. He was dressed in casual attire, loose-fitting trousers and a white shirt with several buttons undone, revealing a hint of his chest. Slut.

It took you a moment to realize that he was settling in at your table. You frowned. “I beg your pardon, but this is my spot.”

Gojo looked up from his work, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “My dear, this is my library. Thus, it is my spot.”

You opened your mouth to retort, then closed it in frustration. He was right, after all. The entire manor was his. Your silence seemed to amuse him, as he returned to his ledgers with a smug smile.

Now, you didn’t really know what to do⸺should you go back to your room, or should you stay and continue reading the book? In your indecision, you continued to flip through the pages of the book, particularly because you wanted to finish the conclusion section before going to bed. But you soon felt his gaze upon you, the sound of his quill slowing down.

You didn’t look up. “Might I suggest you cease staring at me? It is quite improper.” “What? Why would I do so? To watch you peruse a tedious romance novel?”

“This is a book on the state of the art of astronomy.” 

“Indeed? I confess, I am surprised.”

Your irritation flared and you whipped your head up to glare at Gojo. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

“I was under the impression that young ladies’ interests lie solely in matters of the heart.”

“So, in addition to gossiping, you are also prone to narrow-minded assumptions?”

Gojo scoffed. “Narrow-minded? It is a simple observation. Both men and women often indulge in fanciful notions of love.”

You scoffed. “Ah, so you hold yourself above other men. What are you, God?”

Gojo ignored your remark. “Those who read such frivolities are seldom engaged in serious thought or the appreciation of true art.”

“Romance allows one to experience love and joy. Does the prospect of happiness through art truly horrify you?” You stood, glaring at him. “Unlike you, my lord, ladies such as myself cannot frequent dubious establishments such as brothels to seek out lovers. Our reputations and futures are at stake.” Gojo began to respond, but you cut him off. “To deny women the solace of love is cruel. It is our only refuge in a world that forces us into unwanted marriages!”

When you were done ranting to Gojo, you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in. Truly, this man could bother you like no other; only your siblings have caused this much heat on your face due to anger. The only sounds in the library was your rushed breathing, from anger.

Gojo scoffed. “You truly think too much.”

You offered a sharp scoff. "And you, far too little. Even Sukuna Jr. possesses more emotional intelligence than you."

"Do not compare me to that wretched creature," Gojo retorted.

You gasped in disbelief. "How dare you speak of Kuna in such a manner!"

"Then perhaps you should keep him from fouling the air around me!" he snapped.

A sly smile crept across your lips. "He merely knows whom to guard me against."

At reference of That Night, Gojo sighs exhaustedly. “Do you find trouble with the judgments I made that night? None of that was meant for you.”

“Are you quite serious?” You were in disbelief. Does he truly feel no remorse? Frustrated, you ran a hand over your face. “Your words may not have been intended for me, but they were no less cutting. I cannot abide such arrogance, my lord.”

Gojo leaned back, crossing his arms with an air of indifference. “Arrogance or simply honesty? I merely spoke the truth as I see it.”

“Your so-called truth is nothing more than disdain wrapped in wit,” you snapped, feeling your temper rise again. “You speak as though your opinions are infallible, as if you alone have the right to pass judgment on others.”

“I only say what others are too afraid to voice,” he retorted, his tone cool. “If that makes me arrogant, then so be it. But I will not apologize for it.”

“Of course not,” you said bitterly. “An apology would require some measure of humility, and that is something you clearly lack.”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, his voice growing more clipped. “I fail to see why my opinions should trouble you so much. Perhaps you are simply too sensitive.”

Your anger flared at his dismissive tone. “Or perhaps you are too blind to see the harm your words cause. You claim to be honest, but what you truly are is cruel.”

“Cruel?” Gojo’s voice was sharp now, his composure slipping. “For speaking the truth? For refusing to coddle those who cannot handle it?”

“For refusing to consider the feelings of others!” you countered, your voice rising in frustration. “Not everything is a game or a joke, my lord. Your words have consequences, whether you acknowledge them or not.”

A tense silence fell between you, each of you locked in a stubborn glare, neither willing to yield. Finally, you shook your head, the weight of your frustration pressing down on you. “I cannot do this,” you muttered, turning away. “You are utterly impossible.”

You began to walk away, but Gojo’s voice cut through the silence. “Running away so soon?” There was a hint of something in his tone⸺something almost like disappointment⸺but you dismissed it.

You paused, glancing back at him with a hardened expression. “There is no point in continuing this conversation. You refuse to see reason, and I refuse to waste any more of my time on you.”

Without waiting for a reply, you turned on your heel and left the library, your heart pounding with irritation and anger. As the door closed behind you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of heaviness in your chest. 

prev. the aftermath | next. the game

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n gojo the type to hit ur g spot every ti---WHAT WHO SAID THAT?

anyways yes we r getting (sort of) freaky in the next chapter (gojo busts in his pants seeing reader's ankles /j)

gojo when reader thought he was her mama

also tysm for all the asks, and comments, and love you guys have shown me. super motivating that you guys are enjoying the story and propels me to write more <3

comment, reblog, and send in an ask to let me know ur thots :3 memes are also appreciated <3

TAGLIST

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@byhuenii @geniejunn @a-girl-with-thoughts @dazedin2d @chuuqxs

@megumiivs @anthastudios @arranacosmist @arishaxml @jingyuun

@undercooked-chaos-noodle @jaegersity @camzzn @bluelai @1sweetheart1

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@soobssedwithyourex @manyno @samkysnks @stefnarda @bbqsauceonmytitties2

[thegingerwriter]

I would literally die for avengerz tower, fluffy Bob smut pls and ty. Like the team go out on a mission (not realising that reader/ Bob are together) and they have the whole tower to themselves!! Like anywhere they like to be together!! Maybe even the group couch!! Or the shared kitchen!! Or their games room!! The possibilities are endless 💞💞

A supposed 3-4 hours

Summary: Basically what the ask says lol I really liked it. Bob Reynolds x Fem!reader.

Warnings/content: Some smut! Very fluffy, very sweet. Some dom/sub undertones if you squint.

Word Count: 1.3k Little story. Support me on my Ko-fi so I can write more!

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"How long will you guys be gone?"

Yelena looked up at you as she picked up her bag off the ground next to the kitchen counter you were sat on.

"Uhh...Buck, what do you think?" Yelena said as Bucky walked into the room, and she threw her bag at him which he easily caught with his vibranium arm.

Buck thought for a moment. "3-4 hours give or take? We'll pick up Ava and Walker on the way back. Alexei...No idea when he'll be back up."

Your heart fluttered with hope at the idea they would be out for a big chunk of the day. You looked over at Bob, reading on the couch and gave him a slight smile. "Well, hopefully I don't disturb Bob's reading. But I doubt he'll even notice I'm the only one here, he's been stuck in that book for days" You joke, and nearly laugh as Bob sits up, clearly a little offended.

"Excuse me, I am not deaf and also I have not been 'stuck in my book for days'. It's been like...1." Bob says, sending a smile back as he defends himself.

"At least 2." Bucky says matter-oh-factly, heading towards the door with Yelena in tow. "Alright you two- we're out. Don't cause any trouble, don't burn the tower down."

You decide to sell it just a little harder as you call at them right as they enter the elevator. "You sure you don't need our help with this one?"

"We know the people involved, we got it. Enjoy the break." Bucky replies, and Yelena sends you a wink right as the doors close.

A beat. Silence. The elevator makes a soft humming sound as the others descend down to the bottom of the tower and you make brave the storm, choosing to look over at Bob.

He's so red. You waste no time, barreling towards him on the couch, tackling him in an instant as he yelps, tossing his book on the floor before it accidentally gets bent.

“Woah-Jesus.” Bob has barely enough time to get the words before you tackle him on the couch, forcing the book out of his hands and tossing it gently on the floor next to you. You pause on top of him, his face red and his body heating up beneath you.

He sucks in a breathe. “Uh-hi…sweetie.” Bob’s voice cracks a little and you give him a smile.

“Hi Bob.”

“Can I um…can I help you?”

“I think you can.”

You pull him up by the collar of his shirt, and he finally takes the hint, his body pressing up against yours as he cups your face and crashes his lips against yours desperately. You run your fingers through his hair- the length longer now but still somehow knotless and silky.

You let out a quiet moan, trying to repress it. The two of you are desperate for each other, kissing and grabbing at hair and whatever skin is available. It’s not like you two haven’t done anything lately. But the desperation around the excitement of being alone in the tower was great.

Just two nights ago, Bob had been fingering you through your 3rd orgasm of the evening, his other hand free for you to suck on his fingers in a desperate attempt to keep you quiet at 2am.

You bring yourself back to the present as you let Bob tilt your face up so he can slip his tongue in your mouth. It’s warm against yours and you let out a quiet moan at the action. You whine softly as he pulls away from you to look at your face.

“Why are you being quiet?” Bob asks plainly. Your heart flutters as you try to find an answer.

“Um,” You swallow, steadying your voice. “Force of habit I guess. We’re not properly alone often.”

Bob looks you up and down, his hands sliding up under our shirt and you shiver, sucking in a breathe and waiting. But he stops right before his hands can glaze over your nipples.

You go to speak, but stop yourself and Bob tries not to smile.

“Yes?” Bob asks, feigning innocence as you hold back a whine.

“Bob…” Your voice is barely above a whisper. His fingers just brush delicately over the hardened tips before pulling back again.

“I can’t hear you sweetheart. I want to hear you.” His voice is low but more audible than yours and words send heat right to you core.

“Robert.”

“Yes sweetie?”

“Please.”

He takes pity on you, his fingers finally pinching the sensitive flesh , pulling you towards him as you fall into little him ravish your mouth again. You kiss him back, breaking the kiss only for a moment to tear his shirt off and throw it carelessly behind you.

You continue to whine quietly, and Bob finally has enough, breaking the kiss and gently pushing a hand into your hair before closing his fingers and gripping it harshly, pulling your head to the side so he can kiss the spot right below your ear.

“What did I say?” His voice sends shivers absolutely everywhere as he whispers directly into your ear and you try not to squirm, the firmness not new but still surprising.

“I-I can’t help it-.” You stutter, and Bob grips your hair harder and you finally let out a moan, echoing into the empty tower.

“I want to hear you.” Bob says again, continuing to kiss down your neck. He pulls away, grabbing the bottom of your shirt and giving you a look that says he’s asking for permission. After a quick nod, your shirt is off and on the floor next to his.

“Fuck-“ You whine loudly as he grips your nipples again, the cool air hitting them and making you squirm in his lap.

“That’s my girl.”

Bob makes quick work to flip you over on the couch, the air rushing out of as you hit the soft surface with surprising strength and force, his arms staying at your sides. You try to calm your beating heart, but the way he’s looking at you- like he wants to eat you- it’s too much.

“Pants. Now.” You demand, and Bob laughs, his hands reaching for your waistband, undoing the buttons slowly.

But it’s not him undoing the buttons on your jeans that makes you freeze. It’s what you hear that makes both of you freeze.

“Dude, we all hang OUT ON THAT COUCH!” You immediately recognise Bucky’s voice.

You look past Bob’s shoulder, seeing Bucky, Yelena, Walker and Ava. Ava has her hands over her eyes, and your face heats up so much you think you might actually combust.

“OFF!” You yell, pushing Bob a little too harshly off of you, but he’s already on it, tumbling onto the floor and throwing you your shirt as he scrambles for his as well.

“Oh this is so funny.” Yelena says, the biggest smile on her face. “Wait till I tell Alexei.”

“Fuck…” Walker says, reaching into his back pocket, pulling out a wallet and a $10 note, dropping it into Ava’s open hand, the other still over her eyes.

“I-what are you guys even doing here!?” You shirt is on, and you try to desperately smooth out your hair as well but it’s really no use.  

“Turns out they were already on their way back, and we don’t have to go anymore.” Yelena shrugs.

You look at Bob, standing there with his shirt too big hanging off of his body, scrunching his arms around his body to keep himself from being perceived. You reach out and grab his hand and he relaxes slightly.

“They were gonna find out eventually.” You try to comfort him, and he gives a smile back.

“Wish it wasn’t like tha-.” Bob starts but is cut off by the elevator dinging and a loud voice with a Russian accent cutting him off.

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!”

[trivia-yandere]

a favor (1 ½)

your life gets even more complicated when your secret with professor kim is found out by two classmates.

word count: 4.390

warning: dub-con, coercion, dirty talk, blackmail, alcohol intake, substance intake/smoking, degradation, semi-public sex, oral sex (f/m), fingering, jackson wang party bc we need to bring those back, oral sex, threesome, unprotected sex, deep throating/face-fucking, tit fucking, cum swallowing, cumshot/facials,

part one

Your hips sway along to the deafening music. Alcohol flows through your body and you’re feeling more than content. The flickering colorful lights are an added boost to your serotonin and at the moment, you didn’t care about anything else.

You’ve managed to fix your grade - even if Professor Kim got your failing grade up to a C, stating in the email he sent that you’ve improved greatly and there’s still room for more improvement. You had an idea what “more improvement” meant, but showing your father the new grade you had assured him that you were doing better.

You’re unsure how you feel about Professor Kim now. After the class ended, you and he continued with his game. You’ve completely ruined the panties he had given you, soaking them entirely with your arousal and cum while Jin had coated you in his own cum. It was a long, shameful walk of shame you’ve had back to your own home. Jin had kept your panties for himself and instead had you leave with the ones he’s given you, the vibrations not stopping until you were home and had taken them off.

You’ve realized you lost your friend nearly an hour into the party. You were also out of a drink and now you were making your way back towards the kitchen. It’s always quieter there - and more drinks were held in there than out where you were currently. You’re positive your friend had found whatever boy she was entertaining this week to spite her ex-boyfriend.

You pass a familiar face on the way to the kitchen, your mind now recalling just where you’ve seen him from. A cloud of smoke hits you as you swing the kitchen door open and your eyes squint. You wave a hand in front of your face as you walk deeper into said kitchen, door swinging close behind you. The music is muffled now.

Your heels click as you go towards the island where mountains of alcohol are displayed. There’s mixed drinks, as well, and you’re positive you would be inebriated if you sipped as little as a drop of it. 

“Y/N.”

The voice speaking your name has you more alert. Your eyes turn towards the sound and instantly you hum.

“Jungkook.” you murmur. You knew Jungkook from a few classes, but you saw him more at parties. He’s always in the corner, however, dancing to himself with a drink. This time, however, he’s holding a joint between his fingers.

“Haven’t seen you at the last party.”

You decide on pouring yourself a shot. You and Jungkook weren’t friends and you and he barely talked. You two, however, share glances every now and then. You can acknowledge that Jeon Jungkook was an attractive man who was worthy of several glances.

“I was busy.” you shrug your shoulders. Busy getting your grade up that is.

“We missed you.”

The other voice is deeper and instantly, you’re off guard. You hadn’t noticed him upon entering, that Jungkook wasn’t alone in the kitchen. 

Kim Taehyung is on the opposite side of you. He’s holding a red cup in his hands, dark eyes watching you as he leans against the island.

You take the shot in one go, the harsh liquor burning your throat.

“Is that so?” you ask. Taehyung was another man you’ve shared more than a few glances with, but you and he rarely spoke. Mainly because he was once involved with a friend and that went against girl-code.

“Of course. You’re at every party.” Taehyung chuckles. He shakes his amber colored-hair out of his eyes as he laughs. “What were you busy doing?”

This is the most you’ve talked to either of them. You turn away to pour another shot, finding that Jungkook had made himself on the opposite side of you on the island. He holds out the joint for you to take. 

“Peer pressure?” Jungkook asks, raising a pierced brow.

You glance at the joint, a trail of dancing smoke flowing in the air. Your eyes trail to his tattooed fingers, up his arm until you reach his eyes.

“You can say no.” Jungkook snickers, his rosy lips curling into an amused smirk. His lip is pierced, as well, you note.

Your hand works for you, grasping the joint. You bring it to your lips and hit it, not knowing that you’d regret doing so. Whatever strain this was is strong and something you hadn’t had before, but you had gone under, in their words, “peer pressure”. 

The next 15 minutes happened in a blink of an eye, you and Jungkook continuing to smoke while you and Taehyung took shots. You had forgotten about the party just outside the door completely, and it doesn’t cross your mind why no one has entered at all.

Your mind is swirling and too caught up in the way you’re in the corner of the kitchen, Taehyung’s large hands roaming up your smooth skin. You’re wearing a skirt and it gives him easy access to run his fingertips towards your clothed clit.

“Did you come here alone?” Taehyung ponders. “I haven’t seen your friends around.”

“They’re probably getting fucked by now. That’s what girls like them do.” Jungkook chuckles. He’s close to, on the other side of you. Their cologne dances off one another and it hits your senses.

“Where are you trying to go?” Taehyung asks, pushing you back against the corner slightly when you attempt to step away. His hand works its way  to cup your thigh. “We just want to have fun.”

Your eyes blink a few times at both Jungkook and Taehyung. 

“I don’t.” you murmur.

“Why not?” Jungkook asks. He’s just as touchy, his hand sliding up your other thigh and then towards your ass. He grips it in his hand harshly, receiving a gasp from you. “We know you like to have fun, Y/N.”

Your eyebrows knit together. “What the fuck-”

“All that fun you were having with Professor Kim?” Taehyung chimes in. His hands are working, tapping along your clothed clit. “We want the same fun.”

Your eyes widen and you stiffen.

Your heartbeat quickens.

“What?” you whisper, voice nimble. “I-I don’t know-”

“Don’t try to lie to us, baby.” Taehyung chuckles.

“We know. It’ll be our secret, okay?” Jungkook presses his lips against your cheek. “We won’t tell anyone what you did for Professor Kim. He’ll keep his job and you’ll keep your dignity.” he laughs. “Daddy’s money on school won’t go to waste.”

Your heart doesn’t calm down. Your mind is racing - how did they know? If they knew, who else did? Was it obvious? It couldn’t have been. You and Professor Kim’s situation was short lived. He had given you what you wanted and now he had no use for you; yet.

“Your pussy’s wet, Y/N. You’re excited.” Taehyung grunts, his fingers rubbing at your clit. Your body was doing what it naturally would in this situation, but your mind is far from relaxed. 

“Your ass is amazing.” Jungkook breaths, giving it another squeeze. “What did you let Professor Kim do to you?”

Your mouth is snap shut, your eyes brimming with tears. Your silence causes Jungkook to look at you. 

“Why do you look like that, Y/N? Don’t be so upset, baby.” Jungkook coos, kissing your cheek until he gets to your lips. “Just be good to us, and we’ll be good to you, okay?”

Jungkook’s free hand goes underneath your shirt to cup at your breast. This top didn’t call for a bra and he has full access to it. 

“We’ll make you feel good, Y/N. Promise.” Taehyung mutters, You were soaked and he was far too excited to see how wet you could get when they truly had you where they wanted you. 

It’s overwhelming dealing with one, but two was too much to handle. Taehyung’s fingers had pushed aside your panties. Your glistening cunt had caused him to chuckle before his fingers dive through.

Jungkook had lifted up your shirt to release your breast. His fingers twist and tug at your nipples, enjoying the reaction you gave him.

“I knew you would let us.” Jungkook says, lowering himself to your nipple. He captures it in his mouth and begins to twirl the bud with his tongue.

Your head falls back, a silent whimper escaping your lips. You were too exposed here - there was a party just behind the door. The music is booming through from the outside and you can hear a few muffled chattering and laughter.

This is all still far too surreal right now. Jungkook’s hand grips at your breast while he sucks on your chest, lightly moaning. The action causes Taehyung to do the same, leaning his head down to capture your nipple into his mouth.

“Wait-”

Taehyung’s long fingers begin to inch their way inside of your pussy. You’re tight, prompting him to believe you haven’t been fucked properly in a while. He slides three of his fingers inside and begins to pump, his tongue sliding around your hardened nipple.

You swallow back a moan.

Jungkook releases your nipple from his mouth with a soft pop. His eyes glances down at Taehyung's pumping fingers and he snickers a bit. “You’re so wet, baby.” he says.

“And tight.” Taehyung says against your other nipple.

Jungkook’s hand ungrips your nipples. His eyes turn towards you as his hands slide down your stomach and right between your legs. His fingers capture your clit and he rubs circles onto it. You bite your lip, legs quivering. This was all too much to handle - Taehyung’s already pumping fingers in you and now Jungkook is focusing on your clit. Your stomach is churning and you really didn’t want to cum right here in the middle of a kitchen - not with a party right outside the door.

“We can’t do this h-here!” you protest, your voice low to mask the whine that comes. You hated the way your body responds to their actions.

Your cheeks warm when both of their attention turns to you. 

“Someone can walk in…” you trail off.  Your attempts to remain calm aren’t swaying them - your legs are shaking and your eyes keep fluttering. You were enjoying this - just not the idea of being caught.

“How about you cum here,” Taehyung begins, popping a nipple from his mouth. “and then we can take it somewhere private.”

Jungkook falls to his knees. His dark eyes have a mischievous glint to them. His hands hold onto your legs tightly in his grasp before he opens his mouth and pokes out his tongue. He watches your reaction as he licks between your folds, Taehyung’s pumping fingers just inches away.

Your head draws back, your teeth sinking onto your lips. Jungkook doesn’t attempt to tease you in the slightest - he and Taehyung have you right where you need to be. Instead, he proceeds to suckle right onto your clit. His head bounces from side to side, his grip on your skin only tightening. 

“I think you’re liking this more than you let on.” Taehyung murmurs in your ear, breath tickling your skin. 

Your mind is continuing to swirl in how fast everything is. You had to be far from tipsy now - not including the weed Jungkook has given you. In such a short amount of puffs, you were stuck in such a vulnerable position.

“You’re leaking all over my hand, Y/N. You like the idea of two cocks fucking you?”

There’s teeth sinking into your soft flesh, You let out a soft cry.

Jungkook continues to lap his tongue against your clit, not moving from the position. He witnesses the way your back arches, mouth falling open with such pleasure that’s nearly unimaginable. Taehyung’s free hand - so large against you - grasp your breath while his lips are trailing such invasive kisses against the skin of your neck.

Your whimpers are pleading with them to stop - that you didn’t want this here; or at all. But neither man moved. Not until your thighs are trembling with overstimulation and the pressuring you’re holding is released.

Jungkook backs up a bit as you cum, new arousal seeping out of you and drenching the floor entirely. He licks his lips, hungry eyes watching the way your pussy glistens -  and he can’t wait to feel it for himself. 

Just mere seconds after Taehyung and Jungkook put your clothing back where they belong - because you were far too overwhelmed to do it yourself - the kitchen door swings open. The music blares through for a few moments before it closes and heels click against the floor. She doesn’t notice the three of you in the corner as she looks for a drink.

But when the woman turns around and spots the three of you, her eyes focus on you.

“You okay?” she asks. You don’t know her and she doesn’t know you, but with the way you’re leaning against the corner with a dazed look in your eye while two men hover over you doesn’t sit right with her.

“She’s fine.” Taehyung calls, wrapping a hand around your waist. “We were just leaving.”

The woman glances between the three of you. 

“She’s drunk.”

“Who isn’t?” Jungkook scoffs. “We all are.”

“I think I’ll be taking her home.”

“You don’t know her.” Jungkook fires back, glancing at Taehyung then you. “Y/N, do you know her?”

“Of course she does.” the woman hisses. She, unlike Jungkook, Taehyung and yourself, is sober and had just joined the party. She doesn’t know you from a can of paint, but if she decided to ignore the way these two men are staring at you like their next meal, it wouldn’t sit right with her. “Y/N, we’re leaving.”

Taehyung allows you to be pulled away from him. He decides that going against it would make him look bad. So he shrugs his shoulders. “Fine.” he says, even if the veins on his neck pulse in great disdain. “Y/N, I’ll see you around. Maybe in Professor Kim’s class.”

Jungkook licks his lips, your taste still on him. His eyes are glaring daggers at you and the unknown woman. “What’s your name?” he asks her.

“Fuck off.” she rolls her eyes, wrapping an arm around you and taking you out of the kitchen.

Jungkook slowly turns his head towards Taehyung, raising a brow. 

“She can’t escape us forever.” Taehyung shrugs. “Whose party are we even at?”

“Jackson’s.” Jungkook answers.

“Then, we’ll have to find Jackson and get that camera footage.” Taehyung motions to the camera high up in the ceiling, nearly undetectable. 

Jungkook’s eyes slightly widened. “Then what?” he murmurs. 

Taehyung snickers. “We do what we do best.”

What Taehyung and Jungkook did best was release said video - blurring out each of your faces. It was a warning shot, you note.

That night once the girl, who later told you her name was Bella, had taken you out of that party, your worries only diminished slightly. She had taken you outside for fresh air and snagged you a water bottle along the way.

“Did you really know those two?” she asked you, concerned in her voice. “The way they were looking at you…”

You nod your head. But your hand trembles when you take a sip of water and it gives her another reason to not leave you at this party entirely. “Let me take you home.” she said. 

That night, you had gone to bed without showering, your body exhausted. When you woke up, your phone was nearly dead.

Your notifications were wild. You were in a massive group chat that you hadn’t been into before and it took you nearly three minutes to find the start of it.

When you had, your body ran cold at the black and white video of you, Taehyung and Jungkook, altered to blur your faces. Your heart pounded as you read the countless messages of people asking who the girl was - if she was a good fuck or not.

Your phone dies before you have the chance to process it, the reflection of your frightened face staring back at you.

You take a deep breath. Your trembling hands had put your phone on the charger and went up to go to the bathroom. Upon entering and looking at yourself in the mirror, you could only stare at your reflection. 

You looked a mess, eyes a bit wide and startled. Your hair was completely ruined out of its style, the way you slept and woke up could be possibly to blame.

A hot shower would’ve had all your worries fall down the drain, but it didn’t. It couldn’t. 

If anyone was coherent that night, they’d know that it was you in that video. That it was the same shirt and skirt you wore that was pushed up to allow two men to do as they pleased with you.

That would ruin your reputation and then word would get out. Your father would hear and slowly, his reputation, as well. You were a legacy here - and though you aren’t saying your family are saints. But none of them were exposed to this degree.

Your phone rings as soon as you are out of the shower. It was charged enough to finally turn on.

A towel wrapped around your body, you looked at the number displayed on it. You didn’t have the number saved to your phone, but your spirit has an idea of who it could be.

“Hello?” your voice is lost of any energy.

“Hello sunshine.”

Jungkook’s voice is cheery on the other side. You take a deep breath, your hand squeezing your phone to your ear.

“You’ve been avoiding us.” Jungkook then says, his cheery tone gone and replaced to one darker. 

“I haven’t!” you exclaim. “M-My phone was dead and…”

“You know we could’ve exposed you, right? Show everyone how much of a fucking whore you were for me and Tae?” Jungkook spats, shushing you entirely. “What do you think your father would’ve thought if we sent the video to him and all his colleagues? That this is what you’re doing in college instead of being studious.”

Your heart pounds outside your chest at the position you were caught in. Jungkook and Taehyung knew too much about you, and now they had physical proof. Your life could be ruined if you didn’t do what they said - or do what they wanted. 

“What did you tell that girl last night?” Jungkook questions. 

The girl from the night before flashes in your mind. Her kindness was unmatched as you hadn’t known who she was in the slightest.

“Nothing.” you say truthfully.

Jungkook is silent on the other end for a moment, as if thinking. “Are you sure?” he questions. “You didn’t make yourself the victim?”

You’re positive you know what Jungkook is speaking of without him coming out directly and saying it.

“No. I didn’t tell her anything.” your voice is pleading with him to believe you.

“Okay.” Jungkook speaks finally. “You owe us, Y/N. For keeping this secret for you.”

You swallow. You close your eyes for a few seconds.

“I know.” you reply. “Are you two busy now?”

There’s a chuckle on the other end. You can imagine Jungkook now, a smug look on his handsome face and a smirk on his rosy lips. 

“You can come over if you’d like.” 

You open your eyes, staring directly ahead. The only end to all of this was to do exactly what they wanted. A deep voice in your mind tells you that this wasn’t the end. That even if you did what they told you to, that this video was still out there and at any moment, they could expose you.

Think positive, you tell yourself.

In under an hour, all the positivity was out the door as soon as Jungkook and Taehyung walked through it.

“You’re such a little whore, Y/N.” Taehyung’s fingers are gripping your chin between his hands.

Jungkook is directly behind you, both of his hands bruising your waist as his hips snap forward.  His hips are punishing and seemingly full of hate as he pounds into you. Your thighs are forced apart to take him whole and bare.

“You pretended to be so shy last night as if you didn’t want us.” Taehyung continues. His cock is mere inches from your face and dare you say your mouth salivated to have it in your mouth - maybe it was the lust flowing through you with how well Jungkook was fucking you.

“But here you are allowing Kook to fuck you. But not only that,” Taehyung’s tip brushes along your lips. “you’re drooling to suck my cock, aren’t you?”

Taehyung watches you - your fucked out expression is entirely beautiful to him. The sound of Jungkook’s hips snapping back and forth with the squelching sound of your pussy; it all comes together perfectly. 

You whimper, nodding your head.

It all happened too fast when they arrived. You were nervous, sure, but the events led to this. Your ass in the air while Jungkook fucks you with no mercy. His cock springing in and out of you with such speed that you were nervous you’d cum before it was all over - and still had to deal with Taehyung. 

Taehyung shoves his cock into your mouth without much warning, hissing at just how salivated your mouth was to have him. His grip on your chin is replaced by your hair.

Jungkook’s eyes dance around, unsure of where he wants to land. Your ass bounces against his groin so beautifully, your pussy clenching around him. But now witnessing the way your head bobs up and down as you suckle onto Taehyung’s cock sends him into an even more aggressive state.

You cry out, mouth falling open a bit when Jungkook’s cock dives even deeper into your pussy. You aren’t permitted to stop, however, as now Taehyung just takes control. He thrusts into your mouth entirely, the tip of his cock reaching your throat. You gag, and Taehyung feels it and the only thing he could do was moan.

“You look pretty with a cock in your mouth, Y/N.” Taehyung groans. Drool trickles down the corner of your mouth to your jaw.

There it goes again, your pussy squeezing around Jungkook. He groans, one hand roaming up your side to capture a bouncing breast, 

“Such a good girl you are, Y/N.” Jungkook pants - you were a sucker for praise, he thinks, as each time anyone gave it you’d squeeze around him. “You like being fucked like this, huh?”

Your voice does a strangled moan of confirmation as Taehyung thrusts his cock in and out of you. 

The sight alone had to be demeaning. Having Jungkook fuck you so disrespectfully, completely milking your walls while Taehyung has full access to your mouth. It’s an act you never thought you’d be in, but as the seconds roll on you find that slowly, you’re uncaring about how much you’d come to regret this. As of right now, your body was more than welcoming of the cock in your mouth and pussy.

“She’s so wet.” Jungkook gasps, a mere moment of disbelief on his face before he composes himself. You’re messily leaking all over him and yourself, your tight pussy only squeezing him more and more. “Is this how you fucked Professor Kim, Y/N?”

You aren’t meant to respond, of course - not while Taehyung plunges his cock in your throat. You had to look a complete mess - watery eyes, drool dripping down your chin. But to them, there wasn’t an even more beautiful sight than witnessing you be completely used.

“You’re such the perfect little whore.” Taehyung coos, your nose lightly pressing against his groin with how deep his cock slides into you. Your eyes were growing wetter, inhaling through your nose the best way you could.

Jungkook is groaning and grunting behind you, thrust powerful yet sloppy and he has every intention of cumming - either on you or in you. He didn’t really care where.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Jungkook pants.

“Me, too.” Taehyung tightens his grip.

Jungkook glances up, an idea forming in his mind. With a few more pumps, Jungkook pulls up. “Turn her around,” he demands, a hand wrapped around his cock.

Taehyung is surprised, but he does as Jungkook is told. He assists in turning you around, your back against the bed and Jungkook on top of you, Taehyung behind you. 

“Imma fuck her tits,” Jungkook states, both hands engulfing your breast and placing his wet cock between them. “you fuck her mouth.”

Taehyung is more than willing, his eyes marveling at how slutty you appear in this new position.

Jungkook’s eyes flutter a bit, but he watches the way his cock thrust between your breast, his thumbs playing with your perky nipples. You’re gagging against Taehyung’s cock.

“I’m going to cum all over you, Y/N. Cover you in cum just how you want.”

“Fuck, I think she likes that.” Taehyung chuckles darkly, a hand pressed against your cheek as his cock plummets in and out of your mouth.” I’ll cum all over your face, baby, you’d want that? You’re such a little whore that I know you  do.”

You’re far too fucked out to care. Your thighs are still shaking from the way Jungkook was fucking you before.

Warm cum squirts all over your breast, some hitting your neck and at the sight, Taehyung pulls his cock from your salivating mouth and cums right on your face. His eyes are dark as he watches the way you whimper, covered in their seed.

You don’t move for 20 minutes, far too exhausted to do anything. Jungkook, however, is kind enough to clean the cum from your body with a rag he found in your bathroom. He doused it with warm water prior to cleaning you. 

Taehyung settles himself behind you, while Jungkook is lying facing you. Neither of them go to move, both far exhausted just like you are - even if they know they’re overstaying their welcome. Taehyung’s arm is lazily around your waist while Jungkook’s is over your torso.

The feeling of unease never truly subsides from your body, but you’re far too exhausted to worry about it now.

part two - 04/13/25

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