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opalesense · 3 years

Note

um um hiii! im like literally in l o v e with ur writing, especially the diluc and kaeya stories (im such a simp omg) and was wondering if you could do some more diluc x reader x kaeya nsfw—

ofc you can ignore this but ty if you consider it!! stay hydrated and safe ily <3

over the counter

diluc x f!reader x kaeya (NSFW)

6.5k words • ~40 min. read

summary: after a tense night at the tavern, kaeya accidentally forgets his belongings and comes back to see you and diluc having an intimate moment – or maybe it wasn’t an accident...

warnings: slight degradation, a lot of jealousy!! drama!!

notes: reader is in a relationship with diluc beforehand just to switch things up a little from my last fic! also this fic favors diluc a lot more so diluc simps come get your juice ;D thanks for waiting anon ily too <3 i’m so sorry this took so long T_T

SPENDING WEEKEND NIGHTS AT THE TAVERN was not uncommon for you. In fact, whether you were in the mood to drink or not, one of the main reasons you frequently visited the bar was to keep Diluc company, who greatly appreciated the effort you put into making sure he didn’t feel alone while he worked. Evenings with the two of you were often spent idly chatting while he served drinks, which surely kept his spirits up throughout the longer and busier nights. Customers usually commented about how Diluc always seemed to have a grin on his face when you were around, unlike some other nights where his deadpan expression often intimidated the people of Mondstadt and subsequently intimidated the customers themselves.

That didn’t stop business from booming, of course. As long as the alcohol was good and quickly served, customers couldn’t care less about how intimidating Diluc could be. Neither would they care about how he would sneak some free drinks to your seat across the bar if you asked for it, or how he would shyly rest his hand on top of yours if the night was slow and no one was paying attention.

In the end, on weekend nights when you were sitting in your favorite seat at the bar that was conveniently never taken no matter how busy the night was (or maybe not so convenient, since Diluc always made sure to secretly reserve it when the weekend rolled around), people knew never to bother the two of you. After all, on nights when Diluc was happy, he gave spectacular service to bargoers, who decidedly took advantage of this hospitality and thus visited Angels Share more often knowing the atmosphere was better if you were there.

But of course, as soon as a certain blue haired customer walked into the establishment to take his long awaited night off of the week, Diluc couldn’t help but shake his head at you and sarcastically remark, “Well, here comes trouble...”

“What, are you not happy to see me, brother?” After placing his belongings down, Kaeya took his seat next to you and shot you a friendly grin to briefly acknowledge your presence. “I’ve been coming here after work almost every night for so long – have you finally gotten tired of me already?”

Diluc rolled his eyes and began making a Death After Noon for his brother, already knowing the specific bittersweet flavor he likes without Kaeya needing to ask. “Come to think of it, it’s about time I take off that family discount of yours, I’ve been too nice to you these past months.”

Kaeya crossed his arms as he leaned forward on the counter with a scoff. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I need financial compensation for the headache that you induce whenever you’re in the same vicinity as me,” Diluc joked as he finished making the drink then set it in front of Kaeya, who took the glass with a pout and turned to face you.

“You hear this guy? Financial compensation... as if he needs it, being the richest jerk in all of Mondstadt to date.”

“Watch your tone, idiot,” Diluc snapped back as he turned to serve another awaiting customer.

There was no doubt that the two seemed to get along quite well as of late. At first it was almost as if they were both trying to impress you by showing you that they could be nice to each other as per your request, but as time passed, competition turned into a slow realization of having genuine concern for each other, and the brothers have been on the road to reconciliation ever since. Even when Diluc ended up being the one to completely sweep you off your feet and steal your heart, Kaeya never showed any opposition and even encouraged your relationship. “Despite everything, you truly deserve her, ‘Luc,” you overheard him reassure Diluc months ago after admitting defeat in their competition.

There was no doubt that you loved Diluc more than anything. He provided you with everything you could ever ask for, from emotional support and material things to overwhelming satisfaction in the bedroom. But at the back of your mind, especially on slightly tipsy nights such as this one, lies a certain lingering thought about that certain blue haired brother. Was it so bad to fantasize about being pressed between the two? Was it so bad to imagine the feeling of being fondled and manhandled by both of them at the same time? Was it so bad to be at least curious about being shared between the two?

You took a sip of your free drink as you stared blankly at the dents on the wooden counter.

Maybe it is bad, you thought.

After all, if Diluc mentioned that he wanted a threesome with someone else, you wouldn’t exactly be ecstatic about it.

That’s why you would never mention these fantasies to either of them, despite trusting them both with all of your secrets after being close with them for so long. You were scared of how Diluc would react to your curiosity. You were scared he would get the wrong impression and that your relationship would come tumbling down as a consequence of your little fantasy.

Maybe it is bad.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Kaeya snapping his fingers in front of your face. His head was tilted to the side as if he were trying to meet your downturned gaze. “Hey. Did I lose you? What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“I was just lost in thought,” you ignored the subtle compliment and averted your eyes from the counter to look at Kaeya’s face, the shadows of the dimly lit tavern casting on him at the perfect angle to show off his features. You had to admit he was handsome - hell, all of Mondstadt surely thought so too. You glanced around nervously looking for Diluc to see a glimpse of his fiery hair heading up the stairs to the second floor, presumably to serve a table. He was understaffed today, you remember him saying.

“What were we talking about again?” you asked Kaeya, a little dazed and confused, overwhelmed by the reality of the moment. The clinking of glasses throughout the tavern, the bard playing the lyre in the corner, and the large group of rowdy men at a nearby table flooded your senses, leaving you a bit dizzy with no help at all from the alcohol. He simply laughed, gazing down as he swirled his own drink in his glass then met your eyes once more.

“I was asking how you and Diluc have been,” his sharp stare contrasted with his soft grin as the currently sober man turned his stool to completely face you. There was intention in his eyes, but you couldn’t exactly pinpoint what those intentions were. “I know he doesn’t like to catch up with small talk so I don’t like to bother asking him about what’s new.”

With the heel of your boot you decided to turn your stool to face him as well. Your knees were less than an inch away from touching his, which made you internally flustered given the fantasy you were just thinking about. You tried your best to keep your eyes on his face, ignoring his exposed skin just under his neck. He tilted his head back and took a sip of his drink then continued. “Besides, I enjoy talking to you more than him anyway.”

You could see right through him in this moment. Or at least, you thought you could. Maybe you were overthinking it, but you swore you could see his sapphire eyes slowly trail from your eyes down your body all the way to your grazing knees then dart back up again.

Maybe it was bad. Maybe it was the lighting.

“We’ve been doing good,” you nodded, studying his face more. “He’s been a lot happier recently since the two of you have been getting along more. Don’t tell him I told you that, though,” you leaned in slightly with a wink.

Kaeya let out a low chuckle at that and looked down at his glass again, taking a moment to form his next words. With a nod, he let out a sigh of relief. “That’s great. You’ve been looking a lot happier too, I can tell.”

“Oh? How exactly can you tell? We haven’t seen each other in a while,” you crossed your legs, feeling defensive, which accidentally brushed his in the process. You quietly apologized and he slightly lifted his hand up to excuse you.

“Oh, it’s nothing too crazy. It’s just the glow in your face and the pep in your step when I see you on the streets while I’m out patrolling. Seems like Diluc’s got one happy girl,” he tilted his head back for another sip, and for a moment, you saw his genial smile drop as he set his glass back down on the counter. But as quickly as he let go of his façade , he quickly masked his intentions again with a chuckle.

He seemed a little jealous, you thought. But before you could fully form a thought around that idea, Diluc came back with a tray in hand, empty glasses and mugs balancing on top of his palm. He carefully placed each of them into the sink and got to work on washing then drying them.

“How have you been, Kaeya?” he said with his back turned towards you both, “You weren’t flirting with my [Y/N] while I was gone, were you?”

“How could I do such a thing?” Kaeya huffed, seemingly offended. “Put some more faith in me, brother.”

Diluc turned around with a glass in hand, drying it with a rag and initially focusing his attention on Kaeya. You watched as the two stared at each other across the bar for a few moments, the air suddenly getting thicker as they both emanated a strange seriousness, almost as if they were arguing telepathically. Diluc’s intense stare burned into Kaeya’s cold expression, his arms tensing up so much that you thought he was going to break the glass in his hands. It was a little scary to witness how quickly the mood could change in only a few minutes, and feeling a little uncomfortable, you decided to stand up and make your way to the second floor balcony for some fresh air, away from the loud atmosphere of the main room and even further away from whatever random feud the brothers sparked up tonight.

The crisp air was meditative. It was soothing to stand on the balcony, leaning over the rail and staring into the night sky, letting your mind wander. Your days were often bustling with work and interacting with people so it was very rare to have a moment like this to yourself. At first, you figured it would be best to go back downstairs – after all, it had been a week since you’ve talked to Kaeya and it would be nice to catch up with your friend. But you weren’t sure why the mood was suddenly so tense, especially since nothing had really happened and as much as you knew how Diluc was protective over you, you felt like he was overreacting.

As you took slow sips of your drink, savoring the taste and gazing upon the night life of Mondstadt below, seconds turned into minutes, then minutes turned into an hours, and soon the moon had settled into the midnight sky and the tavern was nearing its closing time. You hadn’t realized that so much time had passed until Kaeya, who was usually the last customer to leave the tavern, whistled towards you from below as he was walking home, waving to get your attention then finally turning away and bidding farewell.

“Darling,” you heard a familiar voice behind you as you were waving back to Kaeya, “Did I do something to upset you?”

You turned to see a clearly apologetic Diluc standing in the balcony doorway, his arms crossed and hair messily thrown up into a ponytail. “Why didn’t you come back inside? We were waiting for you,” he quietly asked as he slowly approached you.

He placed his hands on your waist and pressed his forehead against yours while rubbing small circles into your sides with his thumbs. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips which he gladly returned with several more gentle kisses across your face, humming slowly and patiently waiting for your response.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Diluc. I really just needed some fresh air. I’ve felt a little overwhelmed all night and didn’t notice how much time passed,” you muttered.

You were telling half the truth.

You didn’t want to admit that you thought Diluc was being a little overdramatic, and you certainly didn’t want to tell him that you were overwhelmed with the thought of being touched by him and his brother at the same time. Some things are better left unsaid.

Maybe that was bad. Maybe white lies were okay, only for now.

He pressed one last kiss to your forehead before nodding as he processed your words. “Let’s get you warmed up back inside, you must have been freezing out here.”

“I didn’t think this is what you meant by getting warmed up,” you softly giggled in between passionate kisses as his bare, warm hands traveled up your top to eventually pull the entire damned thing off. He tossed it off to the side mindlessly before unbuttoning his own uniform top and letting it drape next to yours over the bar stool it landed on.

“I’ve had a long night,” he trailed the kisses down to your neck, gently biting enough to only leave subtle marks and murmuring against your skin. He lifted you up onto the counter to get better leverage over you, slowly spreading your legs apart then continuing the kisses down your collarbone. “And you look so beautiful tonight, I can’t help myself.”

“Just make it quick, okay?” you nervously looked at the window behind him which allowed the moonlight to illuminate the already darkened bar but also allowed anyone who felt like peering in to clearly see the two of you getting touchy in the tavern. You let him press up against you regardless, feeling his bulge grind against your clothed hips desperately. “What if someone sees?” you whispered, teasing him with the idea of getting interrupted and caught, which you knew annoyed him to the core.

“Good,” he paused for a moment to look up at you, his hungry eyes burning into your memory. “Let them see that you’re clearly mine.”

Your heart throbbed at this sudden possessiveness and with a naughty smirk, you decided to give up the innocent act. With a few swift movements, the rest of your clothes were ripped off until you were half naked, the only remaining bit of modesty you had being the underwear that clinged to your skin until Diluc eventually pulled that off too, exposing you fully to him.

“So beautiful,” he sighed as he kneeled down in front of you, pulling your hips towards him then pinning your knees to the counter as he lowered his head to your aroused cunt. “And all mine.”

You couldn’t help but let out quiet, staggered breaths as he immediately wrapped his lips around your clit, gently sucking and nibbling on the sensitive nub as his eyes remained glued to yours. “All y-yours,” you reaffirmed, which made him hum in appreciation.

He had never considered fucking you in the tavern before, especially since he rarely had the establishment all to himself for a shift, but just this once, he was happy he was understaffed tonight. All the frustrations he had endured this evening, from the annoying table on the main floor to bickering with Kaeya about things that didn’t seem to matter anymore led to this very moment where he hungrily licked your wet folds, burying himself into the sound of your hesitant moans and feeling himself harden by the second.

“P-Please fuck me already,” you breathlessly begged, “Please, Diluc, hurry…”

“Cum for me first,” his low voice muttered into your aching cunt, making your legs quiver, “Show me how much you really want it.”

The whine that escaped your throat was suddenly replaced with a gasp as Diluc pushed two fingers into you, immediately setting a quick pace and pressing into your sweet spot. “Cum for me, darling,” he let go of the grip on your leg to stand up and hover over your torso, leaning closer to your face and snaking his free hand up your back. “Be a good girl and cum on my fingers.”

“D-Diluc…!” you whimpered with a pout, which earned a hum of disapproval from him.

“Master Diluc,” he sternly reminded you, shifting his fingers into you quicker, causing your brain to malfunction as you began to tighten around him.

“M-Master…! I’m…!”

“Go on,” he ran his fingers through your scalp and grabbed a handful of hair, leaning down to kiss you and muffle your moans of pleasure as you finally reached your climax, gushing around his fingers and trembling at his touch. You whimpered in his mouth, muscles slightly spasming still as you started to calm down from your high and feel his fingers slowly pull out of you. While keeping his grip on your hair, he let go of the kiss and stuck out his tongue against his fingers, licking your fluids in front of you and smiling in satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he said as he revelled in his favorite taste. You watched as he lapped up all the fluids, the mixture of cum and saliva glimmering on his fingers under the light of the moon through the window.

Speaking of which, you weren’t sure if it was the way you were slightly tipsy or perhaps the heat of the moment deceiving you, but through Diluc’s messy locks and shiny fiingers, you swore you saw a glimpse of a familiar shade of blue through the window. It was unmoving, sure, but it was there nonetheless, and it wasn’t there the last time you looked through the glass.

Maybe it was bad.

Maybe it was Kaeya.

Horror sunk into your chest for a fleeting moment, but you blamed it on the alcohol, and the way you were thinking about Kaeya and Diluc so much within the past few hours. Besides, all the thoughts you were having about the strange color in the window were replaced by the way Diluc unbuttoned his pants with one hand, the other still intertwined in your hair, then freed his cock and let it rest on your stomach as he slowly laid you down across the counter. He pulled you towards him once more so your head could rest on the wood, his hair-tangled hand acting as a cushion while his elbow took its place beside you so he completely caged you in. “Be quiet for me, okay? We don’t want to wake all of Mondstadt this late at night…”

“I’ll be good,” you promised him, letting your hands travel down to feel his length resting on your skin. It had some weight to it as you lifted it, and as if you two were mentally in perfect sync, he pulled his hips back to let you position the tip at your entrance.

Excitement boiled in your stomach as he slowly inched his hips forward, pushing his cock into you little by little, stretching your walls apart by the seams. Your mouth went agape with the sheer stretch alone and fighting the urge to moan had never been more difficult. Instead, the only sounds that filled the silent room was Diluc’s heavy breath as he closed his eyes from the way you wrapped around him so well, the gentle gasps and whimpers from you as he bottomed out and nearly hit your cervix, then the sudden rhythmic slapping of skin as he began to pound into you with no warning.

Your eyes rolled back into your head at the rush of pleasure that came with the rolling of his hips into yours. It was so difficult to keep quiet, so hard not to at least whimper and give tiny moans here and there as he fucked you silly on that bar counter, but he couldn’t care less since he told you to be quiet and expected you to follow suit. You knew that. He instead opted to gently wrap his hand on your throat without applying pressure – simply as a warning.

You couldn’t control your orgasm even if you wanted to. The way he stared into your eyes so desperately while his cock kissed your cervix repeatedly made you lose control so easily, and he took advantage of the way you tightened around him by fucking into you harder. Faster. Deeper.

“You’re so fucking good, darling,” his hazy eyes glanced down to your lips with the intent to lean down for a kiss. “You’re–“

A loud knock on the door startled the two of you enough for Diluc to stop his thrusts and look up towards the source of the noise, a few red strands of hair draping over your face and tickling your cheek. He stared intensely at the door, pushing into you again at snail speed as he waited for an indicator of who was the culprit of the noise.

Another knock sent a jolt up your spine – or maybe it was the way Diluc snapped his hips into you once then slowly pulled back to drag out the pleasure. With a frustrated huff, he decided to tighten the pressure around your neck and pound into you at the relentless speed he set before, quietly shushing you when you initially gasped in surprise.

After one more knock, Diluc lost his patience. It was his greatest pet peeve of interruption becoming a reality. “We’re closed!” his voice boomed loudly so the person on the other side of the door would surely hear him, startling you at the sudden break of silence. Clearly frustrated, he pounded into you faster, chasing his pleasure, knowing that he would need to deal with whoever was bothering the two of you this late at night and wanting to quickly reach his release before then.

“It’s me,” both of your eyes widened at the familiar voice, “I forgot my stuff at my seat, could you let me in real quick?”

Diluc turned his gaze down past your head to see that, as a matter of fact, Kaeya’s belongings were still at his seat from earlier. His eyebrow twitched as he quickly pulled himself off of you, leaving you quietly gasping for air and clenching around nothing.

“Get under the counter,” he whispered so quietly that you just barely heard him, “Don’t move a muscle.”

Following his command, you made you way under the counter, nestling your naked body next to a cabinet of liquor as you watched Diluc button his pants and loosely put his shirt back on, buttoning it while he walked around the bar towards the door. At that point, all you could do was listen to a set of keys jingle as he unlocked the tavern door and a gust of cold air rushed through the entrance, strong enough that you shivered behind the counter and hugged your knees to retain warmth.

“Get your things then get out,” Diluc bluntly greeted Kaeya, who chuckled in response.

“Aw, why the sudden hostility again?” you heard slow footsteps approach the bar, sending your heart racing with anxiety, “And why the disheveled appearance? Oh, let me guess–“

“Get your things. Then get out,” Diluc said more sternly. You could recognize that tone from anywhere. He was furious.

“But let me guess first! Judging by the way the tavern is still a mess, I know you weren’t cleaning up the place just now. And by the way your clothes are so messily put together even though they were so neat and tidy earlier, as well as the sweat on your forehead… Oh, don’t tell me I interrupted something intimate, dear brother!”

You didn’t need to see him to know that Diluc’s jaw was tensed, unable to form a response out of pure annoyance and frustration. And still, Kaeya pressed his buttons.

“You were fucking her real good,” he teased after waiting for a response and getting nothing from Diluc, ”I could hear it from outside the door.”

“I fucking hate you,” was all Diluc could say in response. He didn’t actually mean it, you knew this, but he was beyond irritated.

Kaeya shuffled to grab his belongings by his seat and turned to face the door. But as if he weren’t being petty enough, he reached into his bag for something and suddenly tossed it behind him – his house keys, which landed behind the bar right next to your feet. Your eyes widened at this. You swore you stopped breathing even if you didn’t mean to.

“I think I might have left something behind the counter too, mind if I check?”

The silence that followed was unbearable, even if it only lasted a few seconds. All of the sudden, your heart began to pound out of your chest, not only because of sheer fear and anxiety, but also because of the possibility that Kaeya would see you so vulnerable behind that counter, naked and hugging your knees, waiting for someone to hold you and ‘warm you up.’ Maybe he already did see you through that window. Maybe it wasn’t just your mind playing tricks on you.

“Okay, I’m sorry, Diluc, maybe I’ve gone too far–“

“No,” Diluc interrupted him, “Go ahead. Go get your keys.”

What?

“Seriously?” Kaeya scoffed in disbelief.

What are you doing, Diluc?

“Go on.”

What’s happening?

“‘Luc, I know she’s there, I’m just messing with you–“

“No, Kaeya,” Diluc turned to close the tavern door and lock it, “I know you’ve been eyeing her since the very beginning, even before I came along. I’m not even mad, I just feel sorry for you. I feel sorry that I took away someone you wanted so badly and that you haven’t been able to move on since.”

Diluc took a few steps towards the speechless brother and lowered his voice, still maintaining the same intensity and dragging out his words. “So why don’t you go behind the counter and get your fucking keys? While you’re there, you might as well fuck my girlfriend with me too, since you want her attention so badly.”

The room froze in time, only for a moment. Thoughts began to flood your mind – why would Diluc say that, especially since he was usually very protective over you? Should you refuse to let Kaeya see you, or let it happen? After all, it’s not like you weren’t at least a little bit curious how this situation would unfold...

While you sat in the corner naked and trembling, you held back your breath and listened to Kaeya’s footsteps slowly drag across the wooden floor, the creaking getting closer and closer until he was in your peripheral vision. “Diluc,” he immediately turned away once he saw you sitting there, exposed and cold, then let out a disgruntled sigh.

“Come now, Kaeya,” Diluc stepped in front of him to enter the bar and suddenly grab your arm, lifting you up with no hesitation and making you gasp in embarassment. He pinned your arms behind your back and turned to make you face Kaeya, whose eyes were glued to the opposite wall out of a little bit of respect. “How about we make this a competition, since you seem to love competing so much?”

“Diluc,” you whimpered as you tried to struggle out of his grasp with no success, which you didn’t complain about because a part of you wanted to unravel this situation even further. “Please…”

“Please what, darling?” he muttered into your ear from behind, “Oh, don’t tell me you’ve been pining for him too.”

“N-No, of course not,” you whined, “I just…”

Maybe it was bad.

Maybe it was bad, but you were going to do it anyway.

You pressed yourself against his hips, gently grinding on his erection and letting out small whimpers. Just like Diluc, you hated being interrupted and couldn’t exactly think straight. All of this petty arguing didn’t matter to you, especially since you wanted them both from the beginning either way. In an attempt to admit your secret without explicitly saying it, you mustered up the courage to mutter, “Please, both of you, stop fighting and just… fuck me…”

Diluc tightened his grip around you with a grin, letting out a low scoff. “Slut. I knew you were a slut,” your eyes widened and stomach burned in excitement at the sudden degrading nickname he called you, “I bet you’ve been thinking about something like this for a while, haven’t you?”

You sheepishly nodded as he slowly pushed you back onto the counter, this time laying you on your stomach and bending you over. “I won’t deny that I’ve been thinking about the same thing lately,” he started to unbutton his top again as you raised an eyebrow at this new information. He huffed with annoyance as he unbuttoned his pants and turned his head to the dumbfounded brother across the bar. “Kaeya, either grab your keys and go or stay here and keep her mouth occupied. I’ll let you decide – just make it quick and quit standing there.”

With your head dangling off the counter, you watched as Kaeya slowly turned around to face the two of you, studying the scene for a moment before letting out a deep sigh. As if he finally made a decision, he put down his belongings again, took off his vest, and made his way across the counter, his hips only a foot away from your face. Meanwhile, Diluc had already freed his cock once more, keeping one hand on your restricted arms and using the other to prod your entrance with his tip. The excitement was overwhelming, coursing through your veins as you watched Kaeya slowly unbutton his pants as well with a bit of reluctance.

“Please hurry, Kaeya,” you softly begged, hoping to encourage him to quit holding back since it was obvious he was being overly shy, “Please, I want this so bad…”

“I’m sure you do, darling,” he adopted the pet name from Diluc, “But I like seeing you so needy for me when I’m moving slow like this.”

Letting out an impatient growl, Diluc grabbed onto your hips as he sheathed his cock with your cunt all at once, making you mewl and sigh at the feeling of being full again. He began rolling his hips deeply just as he did before he was so rudely interrupted, never failing to maintain his quick rhythm and making your brain short circuit.

With his slender fingers, Kaeya held your chin in his hand, lifting your face up to look at his and grinning once he saw how your mind was lost as you burned with pleasure. He stared at your flushed cheeks and panting mouth, comparing it to the usual calm and composed demeanor you always seemed to have. He smirked, rubbing a small circle into your chin with his thumb. “So this pretty, helpless face is what Diluc gets to see every single day? I’m very jealous, brother.”

That comment only made Diluc pound into you harder, his weight shifting into his arm to pin you down further. “Cry about it,” he mocked.

Ignoring the comment, Kaeya only pressed his lips together in a pout to tease you, slowly taking out his cock which made your mind boggle at the sheer size of it. He was just as deliciously large as Diluc was, and as he began to stroke it in front of your face, secretly admiring the sight of you being fucked senseless by his brother, you couldn’t help but feel like you were melting in the presence of such dominating forces hovering over you. Without second thought, you left your mouth agape, letting your tongue stick out in a wordless way of telling him you wanted to take him, to satiate your hungry desires that you hid for quite some time now.

“Eager, are we?” Kaeya didn’t seem to ever shut up his teasing, “I was just going to stand here and enjoy the show, but if you really want it that badly…”

One hand on your chin turned into one thumb in your mouth, which you received gratefully nonetheless. He let you suckle sweetly on his finger, cooing at how pathetic you looked drooling all over it when he hadn’t done anything yet. All the while Diluc let go of your folded arms and instead used both hands to firmly grip your ass and pound into you deeper, the sound of slapping skin filling up the room along with his shaky breaths now and then.

A whimper escaped your throat as you looked up at Kaeya’s face, He didn’t need to hear you say the words to know that you were quietly begging for a taste of him by looking at him so innocently, and as such, your wish was his command. He took a step forward to nestle the head of his cock into your mouth, his thumb still on your tongue to make you open up wider and let you salivate over the taste of his skin until he slowly began pushing himself deeper, watching your gag reflex just to find out you were taking him in quite nicely. His heart was aching with jealousy that Diluc was so lucky to have you all to himself, but nonetheless, once he fully bottomed out inside of your throat that he had to remove his finger to fit properly, he saw this as an opportunity to enjoy himself and sighed in pleasurable relief.

Kaeya’s hands found their place on both sides of your head as he slowly fucked your throat, wanting to relish in the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him, holding back coughs and tears. It was a painfully delightful contrast to the way Diluc was relentlessly abusing your aching hole from the other side of the counter, letting out his pent up frustrations of the night in the form of deep thrusts and shameless pants. Kaeya couldn’t help but leave quiet moans here and there as well while he slowly pushed himself in and out of your mouth, filling your throat up with his entire length just to pull back with a sigh then do it again.

Eventually, Kaeya became more comfortable with picking up the pace, watching as Diluc’s slammed his hips into yours and yearning for a similar feeling. His hands traveled through your scalp, tangling through your hair messily as he leaned in to fuck into your mouth with more intent. You hummed sweetly as Kaeya finally stopped holding back, giving into the pleasure and matching Diluc’s rough pace. The feeling of the two of them ignoring their feud and instead taking out their frustrations on you made your insides twist and knot together knowing that after so long, your fantasies have come to light – or rather, they came to this dimly lit tavern in the middle of the night.

Diluc was the first to release himself in you, filling your drenched cunt with his seed and controlling his staggering breaths as he fucked you slowly to calm down from his high. It made you needy to hear his low groans in their fullest volume, but you knew that that had to be saved for different circumstances. His fingers that dug into your skin so intensely gently lifted off of you has he wiped the slight sweat off his forehead and simultaneously looked up to watch Kaeya fucking your throat. If he hadn’t been so exhausted from work tonight, he would’ve secretly loved to invite Kaeya for another round, knowing how tightly your cunt wrapped around him the second Kaeya started touching you.

Shortly after, Kaeya finally reached his own release too, letting your nose nestle in his trimmed blue hair as he dumped his cum into your throat unceremoniously. His chest slowly rose and fell with each deep breath he took, trying to control himself as he felt you attempt to swallow his seed while he was still inside you. The feeling drove him crazy and craving for more, but as he averted his gaze from you to look at Diluc on the other side, a wave of regret and jealousy washed over him knowing that this was probably going to leave him off on bad terms with his brother – again.

But much to his dismay, as he slowly pulled out of you, Diluc only laughed. He laughed wholeheartedly as he gently caressed your waist, soothing you while you gasped for air. Kaeya stood there confused on the sudden lightheartedness in the air, tucking himself back into his pants and getting ready to leave as soon as possible, slightly ashamed for indulging in such an impulsive moment of vulnerability for you and Diluc.

“Not so fast,” Diluc spoke the first words after the long period of silence once Kaeya started to pick up his belongings, “You’re forgetting your keys.”

With the help of Diluc, you slowly lifted yourself up to lay on your back, keeping your legs spread and incoherently mewling for more. Diluc only grinned at this, shushing you with a gentle look and caressing your thigh as he briefly saw his cum pooling on the counter. Kaeya nervously glanced at you before entering the bar and walking towards his keys next to Diluc’s foot, grabbing them, then standing back up with an averted gaze. The poor boy was so nervous, but you had to admit he tasted so good.

Diluc placed a reaffirming hand on Kaeya’s shoulder, making Kaeya lift his head and look into his eyes. The two shared a moment of eye contact, communicating a shared sense of apology to each other. Maybe it was bad at first, but regardless of how much they seemed to be at each others throats, they always seemed to make amends in the end.

“Okay, get out,” Diluc bluntly said, which followed with hurried footsteps towards the door and a quick, “Alright, alright, I’m leaving!” from Kaeya. The exchange made you laugh, but once Kaeya was finally gone and Diluc had locked the door behind him, you were beginning to get antsy.

“So,” Diluc trailed his eyes up and down your trembling body still splayed out on the counter, “would you, by chance, ever be interested in doing that again? Just the three of us?”

“I want to so badly,” you breathlessly admitted, replaying the past half hour in your head and letting the memory brand into your mind. “Please, Master?”

He thought about it for a moment then grinned.

“I’ll think about it. As long as you know you belong to me in the end, maybe another round with him wouldn’t be so bad.”

#diluc #diluc x reader #diluc smut #kaeya #kaeya x reader #kaeya smut #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #mine #bang #requested

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ajokeformur-ray · 3 years

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~ Angry cuddles with Patrick Verona ~

Summary: Pat’s mad at you. But he also wants his cuddles. What occurs when his need overcomes his anger is too cute and it leads to the both of you melting into the mattress together. (SFW)

Something my darling @loveletterstoledger said to me today sparked this little ficlet. This idea was entirely her own and I wanted to write something about it so please send her some love directly if you enjoy this; she deserves it!💜💗🌸💙 (I hope you enjoy this, my love!!!! I haven’t written for Pat for a while so I might be a bit rusty!)💛🥰💕

TW; (minor) argument between Y/N and Pat, miscommunication (this is the basis of the argument), tension (momentary). If I’ve missed anything then please let me know!

Word count: 1, 038.

“Pat, would you just listen to m - “ Your voice rises slightly with frustration and with some kind of urgency for Pat to do as you ask him to, which is simply to listen because he’s labouring under a misunderstanding and you want to correct it, but his dark brown eyes seem to look through you.

Pat’s beyond the point of listening to you and so angry is he that he’s unable to be his best self for you as he scoffs and leaves the room, his dark curls flying about his face like the strands are electrical currents, so palpable are his emotions in this moment. He storms from the room and his steel toe caps thunder through the house until finally does your bedroom door slam shut so hard that the walls in the living room, where you stand, shake.

You sigh in defeat, a thick lump of unshed tears in your throat and a prickly heat behind your eyes and nostrils spreads. You wrinkle your nose - you won’t cry. You’re not going to follow him, so knowing are you that when Pat removes himself from a situation, it’s because he’s keeping venom from leaving his tongue; what’s said is said. Even in the worst of moods, Pat wouldn’t want to do you unnecessary harm, and so he silences himself before there’s even a risk of that happening.

You grab your phone as you sit on the sofa and give yourself a small break from the monotony of your daily routine. If you know Pat as well as you’re sure that you do, then he’ll be back within twenty minutes. With a small smile and a lot of anxiety, you force yourself to focus on mindlessly scrolling your socials (the irony doesn’t escape you).

Just as you get into the rhythm of scrolling without thought and refreshing your feeds every few seconds, cycling are you through the apps on your phone, Pat comes storming into the room and grabs your hand, pulling you up to standing. He seems to be a live wire, his skin almost crawling with energy. His dark curls fly around him as his hand tightly grips yours and without looking back does he walk with you to the bedroom.

Pat ignores all of your questions and all of your protests; half way to the room do you cease this and simply allow Pat to do as he will; so stubborn is he that he will always get his way. Truthfully would you allow nothing less than this, for there is nothing he could ask which you could ever refuse and the same is equally true in the reverse. You live for each other.

Finally do the both of you reach the bedroom and Pat uses his spare hand to slam the door shut behind you; you are barely in the room for there is a strong gust of wind against your head and you step closer into Pat, not wanting to get your clothes stuck in the door.

“Pat, what - “ One last attempt to see what Pat was after, but before you could finish your sentence, he grunted and threw himself down on the bed, the look in his eyes making his needs obvious.

You tried to not laugh but you couldn’t help it. “Ohhh ~ ,” You exhaled and made a sound of knowing at the same time. “You want your angry cuddles.” You bit down on your lip to prevent from laughing too much but you had always found it funny when Pat got angry. He just stomped around, made some noise and then demanded for cuddles like he was a belligerent cat. He didn’t like being angry and so he usually calmed down pretty quickly. You came forward and Pat lunged forward and wrapped his arms around you, tugging you down with him onto the bed.

Pat grunts angrily and crushes you to his chest, his breaths deep and long as he forces himself to calm down, as he gets himself reacquainted with what it means to hold you in his arms and to be safe in what the both of you share. He presses a tender yet somehow aggressive kiss to your forehead and rests his chin, the angles of which are sharp, against the crown of your head, and takes another deep breath before he makes another angry noise and rolls so that you’re pressed against the mattress and Pat is hovered over you.

You let him tug you this way and that, used are you to Pat’s angry cuddles. As far as healthy ways of dealing with anger goes, Pat has one of the healthier methods you’ve ever seen. He always lets himself vent his emotions and always will he apologise for negative ones as and when he expresses them to you, even and especially when they’re not actually directed at you. Normally are the both of you efficient at communicating with one another but for some reason today did you just bump heads and so was nothing solved.

He leans forward and presses his forehead against yours, the fire in his eyes slowly beginning to simmer into a gentle flame. For some reason is there a tugging in your gut and and you begin to speak, your voice just above a whisper as you tell Pat what you had been trying to say before the tension had deafened Pat’s ears to your words only moments ago. He listens to you, inclining his head as he presses kisses to your cheeks, lips, the pulse point on your neck. He hums and makes noises of sympathy and of compassion, so large is his heart, and you know that all is well between you again when his hands slide up, up your body and grip your face. His fingers splay behind your ears and he kisses you so soundly that you quite forget what you were just about to say, and perhaps that had been Pat’s plan all along.

He lives in the moment and dwells not on the past, for it is gone and all he has is right now with you. You’re everything to him, just as he is everything to you.

Patrick Verona @itsthejoker @royaleclownx @arianatheangelworld @scaredclowncat @hotpacino @call-me-harley-quinn @mountainjiwish @bao-styles

#patrick verona #patrick verona x reader #heath ledger #10tihay #10 things i hate about you #patrick verona imagine #10 things i hate about you x reader

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marvus-xoloto · 2 years

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Marvus Pale Headcanons

I'm going to do my best to keep these organized, but ngl I have so many thots abt marv. Head empty, heart..... full :) So... Let's start broad and narrow it down?

Marvus to me reads as somebody who has a hard time differentiating his feelings between concupiscent and conciliatory. He's got enough of an emotional IQ to understand when a relationship isn't working for him or is entering unhealthy territory, so black romance tends to be a little easier for him to navigate than red romance.

Within red romance, Marvus's experience with intimacy is sexual. I mean, the man exudes sexuality and he's kind of the face of sexual desire on alternia just in general. When people get to know him, it's usually flirtatious, implicitly sexy, and invasive.

So with all of that in mind, when I think of Marvus and red romance, I do think he struggles with: a. differentiating sexual intimacy vs non sexual intimacy b. opening up and letting go of his persona completely and c. commitment in general.

For these reasons, I do think he's prone towards gravitating towards an all in one red quadrant; I would say rails with pails, but I really think he'd struggle to keep his feelings all sorted. Marvus is not exactly the kind of person who likes to keep things in boxes, anyway. Not only is it easier for him to navigate intimacy- sexual or not- when there is no boundary, I think Marvus dislikes the idea of romantic boundaries at all with people he has feelings for in general. Quadrant vacillation isn't his thing for these same reasons.

Okay, so with all of that out of the way, let's get onto the specifically pale romantic fluff 😎💕

Marvus's favorite way to be touched is firmly; some people like to escape reality a lil bit when they're getting pale and jiggy with it- and sometimes Marvus does, too- but he generally prefers to be grounded. He's a very intelligent person and he likes to think and strategize his way through problems rather than let them sit and stew.

So with paps, he likes the standard shoosh-pap, but he also likes (and I wrote this in my fic, read it love it reblog it praise me for it etc) when his moirail goes thumb to cheekbone, fingertips to spine. He has sharp angles to his face and he enjoys when his moirail traces them. He also understands intimacy very well this way: he loves feeling your hands around his throat, and the trust between you two in that moment.

He's a very thoughtful person, and his love languages are both quality time and gift giving. He learns all sorts of minutiae about your hobbies, and always picks up small little things that make him think of you. He's also really good at reading people; I've spoken about this before so I won't go in depth here, but he's very good at talking you out of your bad mood.

I argue that Marvus, while he doesn't like feeling idolized in his quadrants, does like to feel special and praised in redrom specifically. Celebrating his albums, or working on songs together, or even just showing up at his studio make him feel like you care, and let's him feel connected to you.

Marvus does like his secrets, and there are times where you dig and you dig and you dig and you still can't unearth them. It takes a while for him to trust that you won't run to the press with it.

He can be a little hot and cold at the beginning. Because Marvus is out on tour a lot, or on interviews, or just generally got damn busy, he sort of like. Lives out of his limo and party bus a lot. In his mind, this isn't exactly the environment for a deep romantic bond and it's a very difficult environment for trust to grow. But he does crave that closeness and unconditional love from another! And honestly, his space is his biggest blessing: he needs a lot of distance in all of his relationships in order to not feel smothered. He likes to feel as if he desperately misses someone and he plays up the pining soo much lol. He wants your attention.

Yeah that's all I got right now! I feel a little unfocused, but if y'all want me to go deeper or clarify on anything specific, just ask! (Please ask me abt marvus my blorbo love of my fucked up mind. I'm begging.. Asks are also open for other characters <3).

#Marvus #Marvus xoloto

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meowniee · 3 years

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Lee Taeyong - One Shot

Pairing: Female Reader (photographer) x Lee Taeyong (idol)

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 4,2k

Synopsis: Who would have thought that doing a photo shoot with NCT would lead you to stay after your working hours in a room alone with Taeyong...

You were already asleep when you got a call from your boss. One of the photographers who would be working tomorrow had gotten sick and he needed you to go to work in her place. You had been hired a few months ago, but you hadn't worked on any major projects yet, even though your experience in the field is impeccable. He asked you to arrive early tomorrow at the film set and your colleague would explain all the work. You were so excited, it would be your first opportunity to show your talent, whatever job it was.

You could barely sleep and ended up waking up earlier than you needed to. You chose a comfortable outfit, pants and shirt, ate your favorite breakfast, did some very basic makeup, highlighting your cute lips, and went out to the photo set. The day was beautiful with a very blue sky and a shining sun. It was almost 10 am when you arrived at the luxurious hotel where the photos would be. At the entrance, your colleague was waiting for you with an iced coffee in each hand. You greeted each other quickly, thanking her for the coffee, and headed into the hotel, picking up your credentials at the lobby. On the way to the main hall, she explained to you that they would have a big crew today because they were going to photograph a famous K-pop group, NCT127. Each photographer would be responsible for one of them during the individual photos, and the photos would be taken in a hotel room according to the aesthetic that each one wanted. She told you that you would be responsible for Taeyong, the leader of the group. You were shocked. You were just replacing the sick photographer and were you responsible for none other than the GROUP LEADER? “Don't worry, he's an experienced idol. He'll help you with whatever you need. He's also a sweetheart, rest assured”, she said, patting your arm. You sighed in relief. You need to do your best today to take your best pictures. You knew Taeyong and how perfect he was in the photos. His features were sharp and his gaze was deep, the best set for a good model.

It didn't take long for all the photographers and directors to arrive, preparing their cameras, lights and scenery, reviewing the positions and space around them. The beats of their music echoed faintly through the hall. You heard rumbles coming from the entrance to the hall and turned to see what was going on. The boys had arrived along with their security guards and managers. They were mostly in sweats and comfortable clothes, clearly without the luxurious outfits prepared for the photos. Some messy hair, sleepy eyes and yawns accompanied their expression, but that didn't stop you from noticing how beautiful they were. Extremely beautiful. They were talking to each other, sipping their coffee, laughing and settling down next to the staff members. The blonde one, Taeyong, stood in front of them, ceasing their conversation. They greeted all of the staff, bowing and smiling. The director took the lead and made the general introductions. "We will have a team responsible for each member to optimize the work today. Please direct each member to their workstation to begin preparations". He called one name at a time, redirecting the boys to their teams. The makeup artists and hairdressers started to work, preparing their looks according to the references they had received. You stood a little away from him, a little embarrassed, holding your camera. You didn't want to take pictures of him without makeup, respecting his personal space, so you waited until the stylists had finished. He was perfect now, with his hair straight and his makeup done. Soft pink lips emphasized the shape. He was fiddling with his cell phone, waiting for the moment to go change. You approached slowly. “Hi Mr. Lee… I’m Y/n. I am your photographer today”, you introduced yourself, bending a little and unable to look at him. “Hey! Nice to meet you.”. You raised your eyes a little to see him. He was smiling and waving his hand. “I didn't know you. Are you new here?”, he asked. “Yes… Hm… I'm replacing a colleague who couldn't come”, you answered, squeezing your camera in your hands. “If you have any questions or need help, just ask me, okay?”, he smiled and got up to go dress up. You breathed a sigh of relief. You were very nervous and hadn't even realized you weren't breathing properly. He seemed very kind and that made you more relieved.

The group photos were quick. The boys were very professional, they knew exactly what to do, where to look and how to position their bodies. They were very comfortable with the production, playing games with each other but not disturbing each other's work. Everyone's attention was focused on them, always going to fix some hair that was out of place, or some slightly smudged makeup. Words of encouragement from the photographers only made them more excited. You were always watching Taeyong. You needed to learn how he looked at the camera, what angles he preferred and how he liked to pose for pictures. He was the one who looked most comfortable among them all. He wore burgundy pants and a shiny leather jacket, no shirt. Sometimes your eyes locked, making your whole body heat up, and eventually you would shyly look away.

Everyone had lunch at the hotel restaurant and then went to the individual sets. All lights and equipment were mounted. The rooms weren't very big, but the staff was downsized now so you wouldn't have a problem with that. The room had a bed by the window, a sofa across the room, and a rug with wave patterns. The pale colors contrasted with Taeyong's clothes.

Individual photos took longer. Taeyong always stopped to look at the result in the notebook, giving suggestions for light, for angles, praising your photos. You were getting more and more comfortable with him, laughing at the jokes and daring to get closer. “It's almost 7 PM, we should start wrapping up”, you said. He looked at you. “I really want to try some other poses and angles. Y/n, can you stay up a little later?” he asked and you nodded quickly. It was your most important job so far and you would make the most of it. “We won't need the production. You all can go. These photos will be for my personal project. Thank you so much for your hard work today”. He said, turning to the rest of the staff. They thanked and bowed, starting to pack their things and leave the room. You were very happy that he asked you to take more photos for his personal project. So he liked your work, right? You were enjoying working with him too. The conversation and exchange of ideas flowed easily. You quickly understood what he wanted and could reproduce it with your clicks. You had good chemistry together. “I'm going to go down and get my stuff from downstairs and from there we can start, ok?”, you said, opening the door and heading for the elevator. You were very excited... and a little nervous about being alone in a room with him. Quickly grabbing your extra lights and lenses, you went back to the hotel room, thinking of all the angles that could be made there. You knocked on the door before entering. Taeyong had his notebook open, sitting on the couch. The room was cozier now that all the lights were out and there wasn't a lot of equipment in the corners. “I ordered drinks and some snacks for us. We can relax a little while I explain to you what I thought for these photos.”, he said as you put your things down by the couch, sitting on the bed in front of him. “Oh thank you! So… Tell me a little about your project, please”, you asked him. His eyes were shining as he told you about his new album that he produced himself. He was thinking about taking photos to promote digitally. A sexier concept as his songs were very intimate. You really liked everything. He had a very artistic mind and he spoke in a very emotional way.

The snacks arrived and you thanked them, you were starving. At some point you sat next to him on the couch while he showed you pictures he liked, so you could follow the concept. You both finished eating and you got up, “How do you want to start? Maybe on the couch?”, he nodded, crossing his legs and leaning on the sofa, his tiger look appearing again. His duality was incredible. Super cute and adorable off camera, but extremely irresistible on them. His poses were great and you always praised him between them, cheering him on. He lay on his back on the couch, letting his arm fall over the edge, looking directly at you through the camera lens. This was the best photo of the night, for sure. He sat, legs closed, back laying on the couch. If you were your camera right now, you would be melted by his gaze. “Can you take one up close?”, he asked. You positioned yourself very close to his legs, leaning forward to get as close as possible, trying to balance. “You can put your legs around mine. That’s okay”. You did as he said, timidly opening your legs and getting closer to him, his legs between yours. He lay a little more on the couch, flirting with the lenses. Or with you? You didn't know anymore at that point. You tried to get a little closer, but you lost your balance, falling forward. He quickly put his hands around your waist, holding you, making you sit in his lap. “Are you ok?”, he asked. You were so embarrassed, your cheeks were burning. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Thank you”, you whispered. You didn't try to get up and he didn't move either. His hands still gripping your waist, holding you in place. “Maybe a photo this close will be good”, he murmured, lightly squeezing his hands on you. You quickly raised the camera. You thanked you for not having to look him in the eye, but being able to see him through the lens was a really amazing view. You clicked several times, trying to capture the most of the moment. You tightened your thighs around him, getting closer. His hands gently moved down your legs as his gaze traveled over your entire body. He bit his lower lip when you whispered a compliment, letting his head fall back, panting softly. He was enjoying the whole moment, just like you. You took his chin between your fingers and pushed it up, making him face the camera. Your thumb lightly scraping the bitten lip as he opened it slightly. Lowering the camera, you glared into his eyes, pushing your finger slowly between his lips, testing the waters. You let a low moan escape as he ran his tongue over your finger, circling slowly and then closing his lips around it.

Taeyong was so sexy already totally drunk with pleasure underneath you, with labored breathing and huge pupils dilated by arousal. You could almost feel him melt under your touch, giving himself completely. Was this really happening? Or did you hit your head in the elevator and this is all just your mind's creation? The questioning passed quickly when you felt a sharp bite on your finger, pulling you back to reality. Yes, he was there, deliciously sucking your finger like it was the tastiest candy he'd ever had. Putting the camera to one side entirely, you looked deep into his eyes, lifting your head with a defiant look as your fingers tightened inside his mouth, forcing him to open it. He took a deep breath before suddenly grabbing you around the waist and pulling you close to his chest, causing you to lose your balance and fall onto his chest completely, bracing both your hands on the couch behind him. You felt him pushing his hips up against yours just before your lips met. His lips were colder than yours, giving you goosebumps. Quickly devouring each other, the kiss became extremely hot as your tongues twisted against each other, tasting the sweet needy taste. You slipped your hand from his chest, past his neck, into his blonde hair, tangling your fingers in, pressing your mouths even closer, deepening the kiss. A purr resonated through his chest, leaving you extremely excited. He was so responsive to your actions, melting at any gesture, especially when you showed dominance over him.

You let your head fall back, leaving your neck free, guiding Taeyong to kiss you there. Despite the strength of your hand in his hair, he took his time kissing your jaw until he reached the base of your neck, biting and licking near your collarbone. His hands moved up from your hips, working their way under your shirt, reaching the base of your breasts. His hands weren't big, but they hugged your ribs as best they could. Running his hands down your back until he reached your shoulders, he pressed you down, against your prominent volume growing inside his pants, kissing the valley between your breasts through your shirt. You can do nothing but sigh. You grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it up, letting Taeyong sink between your breasts, kissing them through the lace of your bra as his deft hands opened it from behind. He pulled back for a moment as he slipped the straps over your shoulder, letting the bra fall between you, quickly tossing it to the side. Admiring your bare breasts, he cupped them both in his hands, massaging them gently, playing with your nipples between his fingers, lightly squeezing, earning a moan from you. Looking deep into your eyes, he brought his pink lips near to your nipple, pressing the tip of his tongue around it before capturing it with his mouth. The other one was being pinched and twirled between his fingers. You could feel your arousal making you wet, pooling in the fabric of your panties. You pressed your hips against his, trying to feel him hard against your clothed core.

You were startled when he quickly flipped you over with your back to the couch, sitting you down and pulling your hips closer to the edge. He found the waistband of your pants and pulled it with his fingers along with your panties, leaving you totally naked. His eyes ran all over your body, burning through every part they passed. Spreading your legs, he positioned in the middle as he sought your lips for another hot kiss. He was still fully dressed and it made you a little embarrassed to be undressed. You took advantage of the fact that he was close and started to open the buttons on his leather coat as he sucked your tongue and left bites on your lips. He helped you finish taking off his coat, throwing it somewhere in the room. He took a moment for you to look at him between your legs, standing up, and appreciate his gorgeous torso, now exposed since he wasn't wearing any shirt. He knelt gracefully between your legs, still looking into your eyes, and placed his hands on the inner part of your thigh, forcing you to spread your legs even further so that he could fit his broad shoulders between them. He brought his lips too close to your wet folds, but he didn't touch, just laid there, breathing hot, making you feel how close he was from your core. You grabbed his hair and forced his head against you, which he gladly accepted, flattening his tongue on your cunt. It didn't take long before he was devouring you hungrily, licking up all of your liquid, sucking on your clit and twisting his tongue around it. It felt great and you moaned his name under your breath, trying not to yell at all the neighbors to hear. You felt your orgasm approaching and began to roll your hips, rubbing yourself against his tongue. You couldn't help when your back arched and the wave of heat spilled over your whole body. He didn't stop sucking on your clit, prolonging the sensation of pleasure as your body writhed with each movement. When the sensation started to get painful from overstimulation, he slipped two fingers inside your wet interior, starting to move them curved, reaching the most sensitive point. You were about to ask him to stop when you felt another orgasm coming. His fingers worked fast in and out of your pussy, rubbing your g-spot with precision, while his mouth kissed your super sensitive clit. You felt an incredible pressure taking hold of your uterus, as if your bladder were suddenly too full. You tried to close your legs, but he held you tight, looking you in the eyes, daring you to stay there. You were hit by a high-speed train when your second orgasm came too quickly compared to the previous one. “Fuck…”, you yelled as you heard the louder and wet noises spreading through the room as Taeyong guided you through your moment of ecstasy. When you managed to open your eyes, he was looking at you with a proud smile on his lips. “God…that was really hot…”, he said, bringing his soaked fingers to his mouth, sucking each one until there was no juices left. You looked at your legs and saw that they were much wetter than usual. It's been a long time since you last had a squirt. And you were sure this wasn't the first time he's done this with a woman.

You saw his other hand rubbing the volume down his pants. He made you feel so good and now you wanted to return the favor. “Get up”, you asked, signaling with your finger. He immediately got up. Small dark stains covered the front of his burgundy pants, hit by your juices. Both of his hands were clasped behind his back, puffing out his chest and taking a deep breath, waiting for you. You reached for the button on his pants, undoing it slowly as you teased him with your gaze. You slid the zipper down at a slow pace, anticipating your touch on his cock. He was wearing black boxers, which fit perfectly against his body, showing the design of his hard member constrained by the fabric. You dropped his pants on his feet. Taking a firm grip on his ass and squeezing, you brought your lips close to his still-covered volume, sliding your lips over his length. You earned a sigh of appreciation. He didn't tease you, so you wouldn't tease him either. You grabbed the waistband of his boxers and pulled it down, freeing his hard cock. He was wet with pre-cum, glistening in the bedroom light, inviting your mouth to suck it. You took it in your hand, being careful not to put too much pressure, and brought the tip to your lips, giving light kisses around it as you looked at him. His eyes sparkling with anticipation when you stuck your tongue out, gently circling, collecting the pre-cum to taste it. He was so sweet you almost couldn't believe it. You put his whole head in your mouth and increased the pressure on your hand, making him moan louder than before. Sliding down to the end of its length and back, feeling it hit the back of your throat, you started to suck it, your other hand mimicking your movements, but to the opposite side. When your head twisted to the right as you swallowed his length, your hand met twisting to the left. He was moaning hard from pleasure, making you feel proud of your perfect blowjob. You were determined to make him come in your mouth, so you took his balls with your free hand, gently massaging them back and forth as you deepthroated his entire length. You were about to go back when you felt his hand pressing your head further, keeping his cock in your hot throat. You couldn't fight the gag reflex, but he pulled back your head, freeing your throat so you could breathe.

Your lips were all wet with saliva, as was his dick. He pulled your head, making you look at him. "Please… I don't want to come yet…", he begged between sighs. You stood up, hugging his defined waist, quickly spinning him around, causing him to lose his balance and land on the couch. You sat on his lap, positioning your needy pussy on top of his hard cock. Resting your hands on his chest, you started grinding his entire length with your wet folds. He took hold of your hips and helped guide the movement, rolling his eyes back at the wonderful feeling it was like to have you slide past him. “Do you have a condom?”, you asked. He was a little bewildered with pleasure and looked a little startled by the question. “Y-yes…”, he replied, quickly reaching into his wallet and pulling one out. You barely waited for him to finish putting on as you positioned yourself with your entrance to the head of his cock, taking advantage that he was holding it up.

You slid painfully slowly across his length, watching his gaze fixed on where he disappeared inside you. You both moaned low as you reached the end, waiting until your tight walls got used to his size. He cupped both of your breasts, taking one of them in his mouth and kissing it as if it were your lips. You started to roll your hips with his dick deep inside you. “Fuck…”, you both whispered. You couldn't keep it that way for long, so you got up until it almost came out of you, and sank down again. You kept the rhythm steady, enjoying the pleasure inside you. Your brain still didn't seem to process the fact that you were fucking none other than Taeyong. He was really perfect, like he came out of an anime. And he was enjoying being there with you… it made you even more turned out. He started to move his hips too, slamming against you harder, pushing even deeper. You couldn't hold back a shriek of pleasure as it hit so deep you could have sworn you'd feel pain there tomorrow. He kept it deep and strong, the thrusts getting more and more sloppy while the two of you were a moaning mess. Both bodies tense feeling the orgasm approaching, labored breathing filling the room with gasps of air. Grabbing the hair at the back of his head and forcing him away from your sensitive nipple, you captured his lips with yours, still tasting your own juice on his tongue. You could feel your walls tightening and his cock throbbing. You stopped bouncing on him, just focusing on kissing his mouth, but he held your hips in the air, giving him room to move under you, pushing his cock deeper and faster with harder and harder. You dropped your head at the base of his neck, moaning not so low his name as he nibbled and sucked on your neck, increasing your pleasure even further. “Fuck, Taeyong… I’m so close… Please, don’t stop”, you begged this time, holding tight his body against yours. Your words made him fuck you even faster, moaning in a low tone countless curses in your ear. Your orgasm erupted as he licked and bit your earlobe, giving you shivers all over your body, followed by the tingling sensation. Your walls squeezed his cock hard inside you, sucking him in with your pussy. He couldn’t hold it any longer and he's bursted all of his cum into the condom, deep inside you. He didn't stop moving in and out until you were both almost starting to feel pain from overstimulation.

You lay there cuddled together as your bodies rested, restoring your breathing rhythm and heartbeat. This all still didn't feel real. You just had the best sex of your life with… him. You were awakened from your thoughts by his voice in your ear. “Can we take a shower together?”, he asked, his voice so soft he didn't sound like the same person from a few minutes ago. “Only if you wash my hair for me…”, you joked. “Okay, I can do that”, he smiled. He helped you to your feet and went to the bathroom and started getting ready for the shower. “I'll order us something to eat if you don't mind. I'm hungry and I believe you are too”. You nodded as you wrapped yourself in the robe that was in the bedroom. He was being so adorable and caring. In fact, you wouldn't expect him to just send you away after having melted under your touch so easily. He was a gentleman and he was making you feel special right now.

The shower was fun and he let you do various hairstyles with the shampoo bubbles in his hair. Also the timing was perfect. As soon as you guys got out of the shower and wrapped yourself in your hotel robes, the food he ordered arrived in your room. Both of you ate while he told stories about behind the scenes in the clips and funny situations with other members of the group. He was so easy to talk to and give you pleasure that you could easily fall in love...

#taeyong smut #taeyong #lee taeyong #lee taeyong smut #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct fanfic

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okaywa · 4 years

Text

*Kiss Me Sweetly

Tendou x f!reader

Angst with a happy ending, excessive fluff, friends to lovers, smut, dry humping

4.4k words

The demon of Shiratorizawa had crimson hair and eyes to match. He was tall, composed of long limbs and sharp angles. His eyes were perpetually half-lidded and droopy with dark bags. He had a crooked smile made up of pointed teeth and a silver tongue that frequently got him in trouble with the school staff and students alike.

He wasn’t actually a demon, a nickname branded to him by cruel children in elementary school. He wasn’t a monster either, despite popular belief. Although he had learned to embraced his title as the Guess Monster, even learned to love the respect that came with it from his opponents. In the end, however, Tendou Satori was just tired. Tired of the people at this school, tired of the nicknames that stalked him though the halls, and tired of you.

You, who never stooped to your peers level with half-brained insults and nicknames. You, who had smiled and said hello every time you saw him since elementary. You, who encouraged him to pursue volleyball, the only thing he felt powerful doing. You, who sat through his seemingly endless chatter with an interested smile. You, you, you and your kind smiles, soft words, and gentle curves.

It wasn’t until high school that you started sitting with him at lunch. Eventually lunch transitioned into getting coffee every Monday after school. Then the coffee hangouts progressed to going to your house and reading the latest manga he was interested in every Friday.

Each moment with you was a breath held in anticipation for the other shoe to finally drop. When were you just going to get it all over with and stop acting like you cared about him? Enough of the pity, please. No more shared lunches. Stop giving him your notes when he fell asleep in class. He was exhausted for you.

Sometimes he let himself believe you. That you actually cared for him and enjoyed being around him. He convinced himself that your laughter was genuine when he teased you and made sardonic jokes about the world. He could go months relishing in your friendship before remembering it wasn’t real.

Being around him certainly didn’t benefit you. He had heard plenty of the rumors and he know you did as well.

I heard that he’s so controlling she’s too scared to actually leave him.

We aren’t even together, he thought viciously.

Well, I heard that she only puts up with him because she feels bad. Seriously, who actually wants to hang around that freak .

He wanted to scream that he knew. He knew you pitied him. He wanted you to leave but you never got the goddamn hint. You stuck by his side all through high school and now it was the last day and you were still here. Sitting next to him, sharing his earbuds. You could’ve walked home ages ago, but you were adamant about waiting at the train station until he got picked up.

“You can stop now,” he said, setting you free.

“Hm?” You looked up from your phone. “Oh, do you want to play your music?”

“No, you can leave,” he snapped. “No one is looking at you anymore; no one cares. You don’t have to be here with me.”

“Tendu-chan, I don’t understand,” your pretty lips were turned down in a frown.

“I don’t need you,” he lied. “You don’t have to be here to make me feel better. It’s over, we move on now and we forget about it.”

“What are you talking about?” Your voice was soft, confused.

“I don’t need your pity,” he said, finally getting the words off his chest after all these years. “I know you only stuck around because you felt bad for me. But I don’t need it anymore, high school is over. I don’t need you to hang out with me because you feel bad.”

His eyes were closed, and he relished in the peace of finally, finally spitting it out.

“Is that what you think?”

His eyes snapped open. You were angry? You should be happy. Happy you finally have an excuse to get away. A clear exit.

“Fuck you, Tendou,” you stood up, throwing his headphones at his chest. “That’s what you really think of me? That I just pity you? You think I’m so shallow that I hung around you to make myself feel better? Is that what you think?”

You stopped, sucking in a steadying breath while he stared up at you in shock. Yes, that’s exactly what he had thought.

“I-”

“No,” you cut him off swiftly. “You’ve said enough. I’m leaving. You can talk to me when you get your head out of your ass.”

Tendou watched you walk away until you disappeared around a corner. He had been wrong? But he almost always guessed right… right?

Had he really been so consumed by his self-loathing that he had misread the intentions of the one person who cared the most for him?

“Oh,” he let his head fall back against the bench and stared at the bright sky until his eyes watered.

Not many had witnessed it, but the demon of Shiratorizawa was indeed just a person. A person with emotions, as disguised as they may be. He hid behind this personality he’d crafted. The carefree, loud, perpetually cheerful demeanor that protected him from his peers and their wicked words. It had never protected him from you though. You saw through it as if it were glass, just a window to his misery.

“Oh,” he said again, standing up slowly. “I see now.”

He boarded the train and rested his forehead against the window, watching dark storm clouds creep over the city with the silence of a cat stalking its prey.

How fitting, for it to rain, he thought as the first drops splattered against the window.

—-

After three sharp knocks on your door, Tendou stepped back and held his peace offering close to his chest. He knew you were home because your rust bucket of a Toyota was parked in the driveway. His fingers tapped the plastic bag impatiently and it was nearly impossible to ignore the way his heart jumped when the door cracked open slowly.

“Ah, I see you’ve managed to pull your head free. Was it difficult?” You asked flatly, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed.

“Immensely, took Wakatoshi three bottles of lube,” he said earnestly.

You cracked a small smile, eyes flitting to the plastic bag in his arms. You raised an eyebrow as a silent question.

“Can I come in?” He asked. “It’s awfully cold out here, you don’t want me to catch a cold now, eh Y/n-chan?”

“Maybe I do,” you said, stepping aside to let him in.

“How cruel of you!” Tendou gasped, pressing a hand to his chest in feigned offense.

He stepped into your entrance way and you were quickly reminded just how tall he was. His lankiness only made him look taller as he loomed over you, eyebrows drawn together in determination. You stared back, suddenly nervous in the presence of your friend.

“I’m sorry for misjudging you,” he said, intense red eyes still locked on yours. “It was wrong and unfair of me to make such harsh assumptions.”

You weren’t used to him being this serious. He was always intense but the two combined were overwhelming.

“Let’s sit down and eat whatever you’ve brought,” you said, stepping around him to walk to the kitchen. “Then we can talk, yeah?”

He followed so close he accidentally kicked your heels a few times and you could still feel the heat of his gaze on the back of your neck. He set the bag on the table and unpacked the to-go containers.

“It’s from that place you really like,” he said. “By the school.”

“Oh, thank you, Tendou.” You accepted the chopsticks he held out.

Tendou gasped dramatically. “Such formalities, Y/n-chan!”

“Tendu-chan, then,” you corrected yourself.

“Much better,” he said praisingly.

He sat down across from you, eating only a few pieces of chicken before setting his utensils aside. He didn’t say anything, even as you ate your fill. It was clear he was antsy, fingers tapping a staccato beat against the table.

When you finally slid your plate to the side he scooted forward, resting his face in his palms expectantly.

“I forgive you,” you said simply.

Tendou’s signature manic grin took over his entire face and his long fingers tapped a rapid beat on the table in his excitement. Oh, how he had missed you during the two weeks he spent giving you space. He had never realized how much he enjoyed your presence until it abruptly disappeared. Tendou’d also had a few other revelations during the separation.

He said your name softly, so at odds with his typically loud demeanor. He was his most authentic self in your presence, he had come to realize. You looked up from packing up the remaining food and tilted your head.

“We are still friends, right?” He asked with a tinge of nervousness.

“Were we ever?” You countered, not angrily.

“Yes,” Tendou answered quickly, reaching out to grab your hand. “Of course, it was my mistake to ever think otherwise.”

You looked down at his hand on yours and ran a finger over the wrappings he kept on his two fingers. He watched you keenly, fingers twitching at your delicate touch.

“My, my,” he said with a sly grin. “What is little Y/n thinking about?”

You shot him a bland look, dropping his hand pointedly. “You’re disgusting.”

Just like that any tension between the two of you vanished with his boisterous laugh. He wiggled his wrapped fingers in your face enticingly until you smacked them away.

“I brought the latest chapter Shonen Jump,” he said animatedly, reaching into his bag. “I thought we could read it together.”

It was a Friday, after all.

“Sure, let me put this food up,” you said.

Tendou grinned eagerly, bouncing to his feet while you brought the food to the fridge; already talking a mile a minute about a different manga he had just finished. You couldn’t stop the smile that worked its way onto your face, you loved his aimless rambling. Where you more reserved, Tendou was outgoing and could fill any gaps in the conversation you left behind. It worked well for the two of you.

While watching Tendou chatter away you wondered if you had been too harsh at the train station. Clearly there was an underlying insecurity that convinced him you didn’t care about him. Was it his history of bullying? Before you had really gotten to know Tendou, it was hard to imagine him as anything but carefree and untouchable. You knew he would tell you eventually. Perhaps today, perhaps tomorrow. Over the past few years you had found the best way to get Tendou to open up was to say nothing at all, his rambling always ended up on touchy topics anyways.

Tendou held out an earbud for you once you sat down on the couch beside him. You placed it in your ear and smiled when you recognized the playlist the two of you had put together. The only time Tendou could stay quiet longer than five minutes was when he was reading. You settled into the familiar routine, sitting close to him while he angled the pages towards you so you could both read. Tendou was such a fast reader you were forced to learn to speed read as well in order to keep up with him. Now, you were perfectly synchronized.

Today, however, he couldn’t stop glancing over at you. Ugh, he suddenly so acutely aware of everything you did. Every time you shifted to see a panel or readjusted the earbud he felt his heart pickup and he was too aware of every movement he made. His limbs felt too long and awkward, his face felt too warm, and oh my god did he brush his teeth this morning?

Tendou swallowed nervously, for once relieved for the chapter to finally end so he could put some space between your bodies. He stood up abruptly, wincing when the earbud was ripped out of his ear.

“Ow,” you held your ear. “Is something wrong, Tendu-chan?”

“Of course not, dearest Y/N,” he put on his widest grin, bowing down and extending his hand. Fuck, your nickname for him was not helping his nerves. “I was just wondering if you would like to accompany me to the bathroom.”

“Ew, what is wrong with you?” You smacked his hand away.

“Well, you did ask,” he chirped cheerfully before prancing down the hall.

You sighed, replacing the earbud while settling into a more comfortable position. After several minutes you realized Tendou had yet to return. Frowning, you stood up and went to the bathroom to find the door still closed.

“Tendu-chan?” You knocked softly. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, Y/N,” Tendou popped his head out from your bedroom. “I was looking at your photo wall.”

You raised your eyebrows, following him inside. “Yeah? I have quite a few.”

It had been a hobby of yours to have at least three pictures of each of yours friends on your wall since elementary school. Since you started hanging out with Tendou at the beginning of high school, his section had amassed a great deal of photos.

“I forget you’ve never been in here,” you smiled, watching Tendou closely.

You had never seen such an open expression on his face before. His eyes flicked over the photos of him taped to your wall quickly, as if he couldn’t decide which to focus on.

“I didn’t realize,” he said softly.

“Hm?”

He tilted his head back, sliding his eyes to look at you. “I didn’t realize I still had a safe place, a paradise.”

“You’ll always be welcome here, Satori,” you reached out and squeezed his bicep. “I promise.”

“I feel so blind, Y/N,” he closed his eyes, head still tipped back as he took in a slow, study breath. “I thought I had lost everything when volleyball ended. My friends, my passion…”

Crimson eyes locked on your own, the intensity of them so startling you sucked in a sharp breath.

“But I still have you,” Tendou said, slowly turning his body to face yours. “Right?”

“Of course,” you answered.

“Good,” he nodded. “Good.”

His head turned back towards your wall of photos, fingers reaching out to snag at the bottom of one. You looked closer and saw it was a picture of the two of you at one of his games. You had jumped onto his back to hug him and your friend had barely managed to get the shot. The blurry grins on your faces were bright and excited.

“Can I?” He asked, tugging lightly on the corner.

“Take it, I can print a new one.” You said.

He peeled it off carefully and flashed a grin at you.

“Thank you,” he reached out, placing his hand on the top of your head, ruffling your hair messily.

You knocked his hand away and brushed your hair back into place with a huff. Tendou laughed loudly, sprawling backwards onto your bed with a thump. He looked at the picture once more before sliding it into his pocket. He folded his hands behind his head and looked up at you with his signature sleepy smirk.

“Make yourself comfortable, I guess,” you said.

“Aw, you’re so considerate,” Tendou crooned, stretching his arms out until his shirt road up to reveal his toned stomach.

You glanced down at the exposed skin and blushed, looking away quickly. Tendou noticed, of course, and couldn’t stop the mischievous smirk on his face as he reached out and grabbed your hand.

“Tendou-“

“Oh, hush,” he chastised lightly. “I’m just getting you to sit. This is your bed, after all.”

You sat down on the edge, watching as he pulled your hand to his chest. He examined your fingers faintly before weaving his fingers with yours. When your fingers spasmed nervously he gripped them tighter.

“I had a lot of time to think,” he sighed, eyes still fixated on your joined hands, before elaborating. “While we were apart.”

You stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue with bated breath.

“I like you, Y/N,” his eyes seemed to bore straight into your soul.

“Tendu-chan-“ You started to pull your fingers away.

One second you were sitting at the edge of the bed and the next you were pinned beneath Tendou’s body. His breath tickled your lips and his hands kept your arms above your head by the wrists.

“Please, let me say this,” he pleaded, eyes switching between yours and your lips.

“You made high school bearable for me,” he said, pushing up until he was knelt between your legs instead of having you pinned. His hands rested on either side of your ribs. “I didn’t appreciate you enough at the time but-“

His fingers clenched in the sheets. “I do now, I appreciate you so much. Everyone else thought I was a monster, demon, whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore but when it did you were the only one who made it all easier. Does that make sense?”

“What about Ushijima? Your teammates?”

Tendou chuckled, letting his head droop between his shoulders. “Of course them, silly Y/N. They didn’t really have a choice, hm? I was on the team, you don’t really get to pick who’s there. You went out of your way to befriend me, to make sure I was okay before you even knew me.”

You looked up at him, ignoring his little sniffle and the way he rubbed his nose against his sleeve subtly. You sat up slowly while Tendou watched you closely with his head tilted.

“You’re my best friend, you know that right?” You asked softly.

He nodded.

“You will always be welcome in my home and I promise I will always want you around. You’re right, whatever those people used to say about you doesn’t matter. They were needlessly cruel and I wish I could’ve stopped them from hurting you,” you reached up, cupping his cheek gently. “You’re important, Tendu-chan. You’re caring, funny, and genuine. I love hearing about your favorite anime and your coolest blocks. I really do.”

“Ohhh, is little Y/N crying for me?” He cooed, using his sleeve to wipe away the tears gathering on your lashes. “Sweet thing.”

“I’m serious,” you said, letting him wipe your cheeks.

“I know,” he squinted at you. “Will you let me try something?”

From the way his crimson eyes kept flickering down to your lips, you could easily guess what he wanted to try. You nodded mutely, breath catching excitedly as his face drew closer.

The first touch of his lips felt like a static shock. Your eyes fluttered close as he pushed a little closer, experimentally moving his lips against yours. He let out a low groan into your mouth, pushing forward until you were laying down again. The hands that had been by your sides now moved to tangle in your hair and cup your face while his hips settled comfortably between your thighs.

The first brush of his tongue across your bottom lip sent fire licking up your spine which eventually settled as a fluttering warmth in your stomach. Your hands came up to grab his arms, nails leaving shallow crescents on the pale skin of his biceps through his shirt. Parting with a nip to your bottom lip, Tendou licked his lips as he looked down at you.

The sight of your flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips sent a thrill of exhilaration through his chest.

“Well?” He asked, a cocky grin smeared across his lips.

It was like you were seeing Tendou in a brand new light. Before he was just your friend. You always knew he was good-looking but now, you were supremely aware of his shapely lips, cut jaw, and broad shoulders. His hips between yours was as intoxicating as the elated look on his face.

“Stop looking so smug,” you huffed, pulling him down to your lips again.

Laughing softly, Tendou happily obliged you in another sensuous kiss that left you dizzy and breathless. He swallowed your gasp when he experimentally rolled his hips into yours.

He pulled back, eyes lidded with a dazed smile, and tilted his head. “Is that okay?”

You nodded eagerly, leaning up to capture him in another kiss. With a sly smirk he pulled out of your reach, head tilted expectantly.

“Yes, Tendou, now please get back to it,” you snapped, secretly appreciative of his need for clear consent.

“There we go,” he murmured, stooping back down with a thorough roll of his hips.

A groan was shared between both of your open mouths as his hips fell into a steady rhythm, slowly undulating against you. Sighing out his name, you let your head fall back while Tendou trailed kisses across your jaw and down to your throat.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re so perfect,” he murmured breathlessly, leaving wet, open-mouth kisses down the column of your throat. “Feel so good, hah-“

His clothed erection lined up perfectly with your core, sending searing electricity flickering through your stomach. Your hands went from gripping his arms to tangling in his hair, tugging lightly at the crimson strands.

“Haah-ah,” you moaned at a particularly accurate thrust that had his entire length dragging along your clit. “Satori, please.”

“Oh, fuck,” Tendou sighed into your ear, pushing aside your hair so he could hide his face in the warmth of your neck. “You’re so hot, gonna make me cum in my pants. Keep making those pretty noises for me, sweet thing.”

You nodded along eagerly, pulling his head away from your neck so your could attach your lips again. Steady thrusts began to lose their rhythm as both of you got closer to completion. Tendou let out a throaty groan, wrapping his lean arms around you tightly so he could rub his hard-on against your core with more force.

“Satori, ah!” You cried out at the stimulation.

He clashed his mouth against yours messily, teeth clicking while he gasped against your lips.

“M’ close,” he clenched his eyes shut.

“Me too, me too,” you whined, hips writhing up against his desperately. “Satori!” Tendou practically growled at that, mouth claiming yours assertively. You shouted his name again while your orgasm wracked through your body, leaving you sensitive and tingly as Tendou chased his own release. He came with a low moan into your mouth, hips rolling gently through the aftershocks.

When he finally slowed to a stop he went completely slack on top you. Tendou mouthed gently at your neck, fingers petting your hair as you both caught your breath. You released his hair and unclenched your stiff fingers a few times before wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

Curious hands slowly pushed beneath your shirt, tenderly exploring your body while Tendou continued to leave lazy, open-mouthed kisses on your neck. His handsiness didn’t bother you since you were also busy tracing the muscles of his back.

You whined when he landed another quick kiss before pushing off of you.

“I gotta clean up,” he said, darting down to kiss you again.

That reminded you of the uncomfortable dampness in your own pants so you got up as well. You found a pair of sweatpants that he could fit into from your brother and set them by the bathroom door for him. By the time you came back from changing he was already lounging in your bed again, your brother’s sweatpants an inch or two too short above his ankles.

Tendou’s expression brightened when you walked in, his eyes wide to match his grin as you climbed in to lay next to him. He was quick to wrap his arms around you again.

“Well?” He asked.

“Hmm?” You responded, face pressed against his shoulder.

“What are we now?” He leaned back so he could see your face.

You stretched languidly, tossing a leg over his hips and an arm over his chest before responding.

“What do you want this to be?”

“I want you to be mine,” he answered honestly.

“Then I’m yours,” you said simply, kissing the hinge of his jaw.

“My girlfriend,” he said adoringly, twisting to his side so you were facing each other.

You laughed softly, letting him cup your cheeks so he could pull you into an unhurried kiss. His tongue pressed past your lips to sweep along your teeth and slide hotly against yours.

“I’m pretty great at apologies, huh?” He boasted.

“Oh, shut up,” you groaned, pushing him away by his forehead.

Tendou let you shove his face away with a quiet giggle before brushing your hand away so he could attack your neck with more kisses.

“You better not be leaving marks,” you threatened halfheartedly, too caught up in the addicting sensation of his lips on your body to be serious.

Tendou eyed a particularly red spot, pressing a light kiss to it. “Of course not, baby.”

“That didn’t sound too convincing.”

“Well… it might fade,” Tendou circled the spot with his finger. “I kinda like it.”

“Satori!”

“Whaaat?” He crooned. “It lets everyone know you’re mine.”

“Ugh, you creep,” you murmured, accepting a soft kiss.

Tendou giggled cheerfully, squeezing you closer to him affectionately. He left a flurry of kisses across your cheeks and nose, sighing happily.

“I love this,” his hands roved over your body. “Getting to touch and kiss you as much as I want.”

“Mm, me too.”

Tendou’s lean body was beautiful, so was his blush when you informed him of this. He groaned and hid his face in the crook your neck.

“I’m serious!” You insisted, pulling his face from your neck so you could look at him.

“I know you are, thank you,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes.

“Aww, are you embarrassed?”

Tendou scoffed. “Tch, of course not. I’m a catch, a total babe.”

Laughing, you let him bite playfully at the hinge of your jaw for a moment before shoving him away so he couldn’t leave another mark. Tendou settled down and was happy to let you brush your fingers through his hair until it lost it’s shape and started to fall over his forehead.

“Mmm, sleepy,” he sighed, practically purring as you massaged his scalp.

“Go to sleep then.”

He hummed, twisting his body until he was on his stomach with half of his body draped over yours. You smiled warmly, of course Tendou was a clingy sleeper.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu writing #tendou satori #tendou x reader #haikyuu smut #tendou smut #tendou x you #friends to lovers #haikyuu angst #tendou headcanon #tendou fluff #tendou imagine #Shiratorizawa #happy ending #masterlist #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you

6K notes · View notes

thefriskypanda · 3 years

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Heyyyyy i head that ur new to Tumblr nice to meet you and I hope u enjoy the experience love❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

I was wondering if I could get Zoro with a fem crewmate who have to hide from marines and Zoro pulls them into small tight space. When zoro looks down at reader he could see her breast being pressed up against his chest and he can't control him self.

I hope this makes sense if not I can send it again

Now have a good day or night 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Gaaaaaaaaaah~ I really enjoyed writing this one, I may have gotten a bit carried away, hehe

warnings: again, this contains a female reader, kissing. The following is under the cut: a bit of nipple play, fingering, and sex in a small space.

ko-fi ♥

Enjoy!

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

Today started off like it usually would when the ship docked on an island. Part of the crew was in charge of gathering supplies, another was in charge of watching over the ship. You, on the other hand, had one of the most important tasks: looking after Zoro so he doesn’t get lost in case you needed to run.

The first few times he absolutely hated it, feeling that he was being treated like a child. But after spending most of the time in land with you and realising that you were genuinely worried about his well being, he warmed up to you and accepted your company whenever he was wandering around.

You two were talking inside a blacksmith shop about whether you should choose a single sword or a double handed one to defend yourself better, just in case you were left alone at any point. In any case, he promised to train you himself, not only to make sure you learnt how to fight properly, but it also served as an excuse to spend more time together.

When you finally decided and walked out of the shop, weapon in its case resting on your back, you heard a faint yell in the distance.

“The Strawhats are around here, search for them!”

The voice came exactly from the nearest path to the port, leaving you with no other choice than to grab Zoro’s hand and run in the opposite direction. He simply stared at you with an almost invisible blush on his face, not questioning your lead. Until he felt a presence coming from the front. With no other choice, he pulled you into an alleyway that came into view. Unfortunately, there was no way out, a simple door in front of you was your only option. Your companion grabbed your forearm, “Come here” he said quickly and pulled the door open, pushing you inside.

Your back met with a few wooden boxes that were neatly arranged in piles while Zoro closed the door behind him. He put his hand on the crate behind you and closed his eye, trying to listen if the Marines had followed you.

There were voices right outside your hiding spot, prompting you to hold your breath and tightly close your eyes. The swordsman noticed your body going stiff against him, looking down with the intention of asking if you were okay, but he realized just how close the two of you were.

Your body was brushing his own, he could easily feel the warmth radiating from you, and even if he wanted to, he couldn’t ignore the fact that your breasts were pressed against his chest. The softness of your mounds felt good against his hard muscles, enough to make his legs tremble.

A gentle “are you okay, Zoro?” broke his haze, bringing his eyes up to look at your own, stopping briefly at your lips. He sneaked his arm around your waist, pressing you two even more. You felt something poking at your center. “Wha- wait... ” you couldn’t form proper sentences, blood rushed to your cheeks at the realisation of what it was.

When you were about to question him about his strange behaviour, he grabbed your hair with his other hand and sealed your lips in a passionate kiss, pushing your body against the hard wooden crate, your forgotten sword digging into your back. You gently put your arms on his shoulders, gripping on his clothes, overwhelmed by the sensual way his lips were moving. A bunch of emotions exploded, neither of you wanted to let go, not wanting for this moment to end.

The silence of the small storage room was filled with gasps and moans as his mouth explored your neck with intense adoration, sucking and licking wherever he could while his hands roughly squeezed your hips, grinding against them, trying to get some friction.

Low grunts rumbled in his throat at the pleasing sensation, but it wasn’t enough. Your sultry voice caught his attention, making him stop his movements, thinking about a solution for the new problem at hand.

“Hmmm, no. This won’t do” He said as he grabbed your hips with one arm. You shot him a questioning glance as he easily lifted your legs from the ground and pressed you even more against the hard surface. “Z-zoro!” you gasped. “What are you doing now?”. His free hand grabbed the hem of your shirt, tugging it down gently. “I can’t go back to the ship like this, wanna help me?” His eye was fixed on your face, all his movements stopped. Soon you realized that he was asking you permission to touch you. He didn’t want to hurt you when he got to the main act.

You brought your lips together, giving him a short, deep kiss while you wrapped your legs around his middle. A simple “Do as you wish” made Zoro immediately bring your left breast out of its confinement. Lifting your body a bit further up, he leaned down and started planting butterfly kisses from your mouth, all the way down your neck, chest, and stopped at your hardening nipple, giving it a few tentative licks before engulfing his mouth around it, alternating between swirling his tongue and sucking. The sensation made you feel an increasing tingle on your lower stomach, not noticing that his hand was traveling through your side, tenderly caressing your body, before opening your shorts and sliding them along with your panties through only one of your legs, letting the dangle on the other one.

He gently caressed your clit, drawing a sharp breath out of your lungs. His movements were controlled at first, but he easily lost his patience, driving him to let go of your nipple to watch your expression as he fastened his pace, inserting his middle and ring finger at the same time, curling them up at the right angle. It all felt so amazing, that your orgasm crashed down on your body, juices spilling on the floor under you while you tried to muffle your moans by biting your lower lip.

“The best part is yet to come” Zoro whispered in your ear, giving it a soft bite before grabbing his throbbing member and positioning it at your entrance. He slowly pushed in, engrossed at how deliciously hot and wet your pussy felt. You decided to bite his shoulder as he started to rock his hips into you, desperately trying to hide the lewd noises that resonated in your throat.

You could feel the rumble in his chest as he groaned, too lost into you to think of anything else than how good you felt, completely wrapped around him, as you also thought of him.

He immediately pulled out as his own orgasm arrived, cumming on your stomach, a few droplets joined your juices on the floor.

For a short moment, you could only hear your agitated respiration, but his husky voice broke the silence. “I think we are ready to go now. Can’t feel those marines with my haki anymore.”

He let you stand on your own, allowing you to balance yourself on him as you awkwardly put your shorts back on.

You felt a relief as a fresh wave of air entered the small room when he opened the door to peek outside, just to be sure that it was completely safe to go out. Before heading out, he turned back to you and kissed you once again. “We’re not done, but we better head back to the ship”.

Sudden heat crept its way to your face at his words, but with a smile, you nodded and grabbed his hand to lead him. “Sure, I could use some ‘training’ with you”.

Later at the Thousand Sunny, everyone wondered why you two were so eager to go to the Crow’s Nest, but innocently dismissed it when they saw your new weapon, oblivious at your intertwined hands.

#roronoa zoro x reader #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #zoro smut #roronoa zoro x reader smut #zoro x reader smut

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jaehyunfirstlove · 3 years

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Hi, can i request for Jaehyun’s smut? Jaehyun as yn’s bodyguard who happened already have girlfriend.

Pairing: bodyguard!jaehyun x f.reader

Genre: a bit of angst, smut (18+ only)

Warnings: infidelity, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: this is the second bodyguard request i got, and i was considering connecting it to the first one but finally decided not to. anyways, hope you like it anon!

He was forbidden, and maybe that’s why you wanted him so badly. Forbidden, not only because he worked for your family, but also because he was taken.

But it didn’t make you want him less, in fact, it made you want him more. Not to mention that he was gorgeous, with looks that were known to stop women in their tracks, whispers amongst the household staff that you were already screwing him, so who were you to deny the truth to their rumors?

He was oh so respectable though, never an errant hand, not a hair out of place or a tie askew. He was all manners and formalities and ‘Miss this’ and ‘Miss that’, no deviation from the professionalism that your father had hired him for.

He didn’t even entertain calls or texts from his girlfriend during work hours, but you knew he’d get them, seeing his watch flash or hearing his phone buzz. His strict and steely demeanor was perfect for his job as a bodyguard, but you were dying to know what lay under that facade.

One night you decided to find out, calling him to say you were going out. He met you in the garage, ready to drive you as was customary. He stood by the car, hands clasped in front of him, looking as handsome as ever in his black suit. His hair was pushed back, just the way you liked it, with only a few strands falling onto his forehead.

“Jaehyun,” you nodded to him, getting into the back seat. He nodded back to you before he got into the driver’s side and pulled out of the garage.

You instructed him to drive, giving him directions here and there, until you reached your destination; an outlook outside the city, popular amongst anyone looking for an illicit tryst.

Jaehyun parked the car and waited for further instruction, not bothering to turn to you or ask. You leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “Please join me in the back seat.”

He didn’t flinch or question your instruction, just joined you as instructed, sliding into the seat with you and closing the door behind him. You studied his face, the sharpness of his jaw, the smooth lines of his milky skin. He didn’t meet your gaze yet, his face just turning to you when you heard his phone buzz. As usual, he didn’t pay any attention to it.

“Your girlfriend?” you asked, and he just nodded.

“Does she know you’re with me?” you asked, your tone matter-of-fact, and he nodded again.

Deciding to test the waters, you reached out and placed a hand on his knee. He didn’t recoil, didn’t really react, and this emboldened you. “Does she know… what we’re doing?”

He paused, and for the first time you saw a crack in the façade. He was almost hesitant to speak, but when he finally did, it was just to say a simple ‘no’.

“Would you tell her,” you continued, your hand moving up his thigh, “if we did anything we shouldn’t?”

“Like what, Miss L/N?” he asked. His voice was steady, but you could see a glint of something in his eye.

“Like, maybe if I went further than here,” you’d stopped your hand, so close to the bulge that was forming in his pants.

“I don’t need to disclose anything I do at work,” he responded, voice still steady, but a smirk was forming on his lips. You moved your hand then, cupping his impressive bulge, and the façade all but fell away. His eyes grew dark, and before you knew what was happening he had you on your back, pinning you to the seat with the weight of his body. All breath left you when he started to attack your throat, licking and sucking on your skin.

“Is this what you wanted, Miss L/N?” his breath was hot against your neck, your hand still cupping his bulge so you squeezed. He hissed, his hands getting even rougher on you.

“Yes, Jaehyun,” you moaned, loving the way he was manhandling you, “but please call me Y/N.”

“Yes, miss Y/N,” he responded smoothly, hands roaming over your curves.

“No, just Y/N…” you were trying to correct him, trying to make everything more intimate than it was, not wanting him to think it was part of his duty to fuck you, but his touch was rendering you mindless, pleasure taking over all the rational parts of your brain.

“Y/N,” he finally murmured, your name so beautiful on his tongue that it made your heart stutter. He kissed down your chest, the low neckline of your shirt allowing him ample access to your cleavage, his hands going under the hem to relieve you of your bra. Once your breasts were bared to him he attacked the nipples hungrily, sucking each one into his mouth and releasing them with a popping sound, the feeling making you gasp out loud.

“Do you want more?” he asked, when you were panting, your hair mussed and makeup smudged, looking fucked out already and all he did was kiss you and suck on your nipples.

“Mm,” you nodded, biting your lip as he started to remove your pants and underwear. He put an arm under each knee and yanked you towards him, leaning down to eat you out.

Your back arched off the seat, hands clawing at the leather as he licked voraciously, the sounds he was making loud and obscene in the confines of the backseat. You were a whimpering, whining, moaning mess, his tongue pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you. He seemed to have infinite stamina, still going until you had to weakly push at his head when you’d had too much. Somewhere in the back of your head you were extremely jealous of his girlfriend, who could enjoy this whenever she wanted, and not secretly, in the backseat of a car at some shady lookout point.

“I don’t have a condom, miss- Y/N,” he said in his usual level tone. You knew this should have stopped you, but you wanted him too badly.

“I trust you,” you shrugged, “I’m clean, and I’ve had an IUD for years.”

He paused for only a second, most likely going through the same thought process you had gone through, and also coming to the same conclusion. You reached over and undid his pants for him, pulling the waistband of his boxers down and freeing his cock. You couldn’t help but lick your lips at the sight of it, a beautiful cock for a beautiful man.

“Come here and fuck me, Jaehyun,” you commanded, and he nodded, a dark look in his eyes as he leaned over you

“Can I kiss you, miss Y/N?” he asked, but his face was so close to yours he might as well have been. You just answered by capturing his bottom lip lightly with your teeth, then sucking on it, making him groan into your mouth and slide into you at the same time.

You’d often wondered what he would feel like inside you, when you would masturbate in the shower you would think of his cock and how it must feel, but nothing prepared you for the real thing. He was rock hard, and he filled you so full you thought you would burst, but that wasn’t all. You already knew his stamina was off the charts, but it was the way he would snap his hips, or angle your hips a certain way so he could hit you exactly where he wanted, exactly in that spot that made you scream his name.

“You like it?” he groaned as he pounded into you, “you like my cock?”

“Yes, Jaehyun,” you moaned, barely able to speak with the way his thrusts took your breath away. He brought your knees up to your chest and pounded even harder, the car filled with the sounds of your moans as you reached your high, your legs shaking and pussy clenching. Jaehyun went even harder after you came, chasing his own high, the sexiest grunts emanating from his throat as he railed you.

“Can I come inside you?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble against your chest.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” you almost screamed, feeling another orgasm hit you. He came then, his hands squeezing your ass to bring you even closer to him, to get even deeper inside you, spilling his cum until you were full with it, until it was leaking down your thighs and onto the leather seats.

You breathed heavily against each other for a while, until he finally pulled himself off of you. A part of you hated it, a part of you wanted him to hold you a while longer, a part of you wanted him to spend the night, to wake up in his arms. A part of you just wanted him. You stared out the window at the stars, feeling jealous of his girlfriend again, as he dressed quietly. When he was done he stayed where he was, presumably waiting for your next command.

“Thank you, Jaehyun,” you said coldly, trying to mask the emotion in your voice. “We can go now.”

He hesitated, and for a moment the professional demeanor wavered. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

You looked at him, at the soft look in his eyes, and you wanted so much for him just to take you in his arms again. But his phone buzzed at that moment, and you knew exactly who it was.

“Take the call, Jaehyun,” you said quietly, “I’m okay.”

---

Thanks for 1.4k :)

#jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun smut #nct imagines #nct smut

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furiosophie · 3 years

Text

random things I enjoyed about oh the things we left behind

bc I’m feeling questionable about my own writing rn and am attempting to hype myself up:

Din exclusively thinks of Luke as “Skywalker” and “the Jedi” in chapter one and only gradually switches to calling him “Luke” over the course of the fic, which is reflective of his emotional journey. The first time he thinks of him as “Luke” is just after he gets hurt in chapter two and at the end of the fic he has progressed to only ever thinking of him as “Luke” and doesn’t even use “the Jedi” anymore.

The twin sun motive changes slightly after chapter three - it starts as “setting” twin suns and after they share their moment in front of the farm switches to “rising”, again reflective of their journey.

Din also assumes that the twin suns have always been Luke’s refuge, when in reality Luke only started to think of the twin suns as a synonym for the warmth he felt off Din on Gideon's cruiser.

When Luke saves Din and the Foundlings from the battle droid in chapter two he’s described as having “engine grease splattered over his cheekbones like the lifeless blood of his victims.” - when Din realizes he’s in love with him in chapter five Luke is described as having his “hair tousled and cheeks dotted with black spots of grease.” (and then we have Din going “And looking back, Din isn’t sure why this is what makes it click, but somehow it is.“ lmao)

The way death feels to Luke in the Force is the same way one might feel a heart attack.

In general a lot of the ways I wrote Luke experiencing the Force and his struggles with finding balance and control are reminiscent of how I personally experienced being autisitc through deep burnout and especially the line “It doesn’t matter, not when he is acutely aware that, after all he’s become, his mind will never fully be his own again.“ was very important to me, as well as Luke actively choosing life in the end, rather than just “giving in” to something the people around him want him to do.

The same goes for Ben, I borrowed a lot of his behavior from how I acted as a child, and the thought of the Force as a form of Neurodiversity is just something that’s very soothing to me.

It’s a bit of a dark one but I’m very fond of this paragraph “The energy rolling off Luke is sharp and searing, something ruthless in how efficiently he cuts through anything that dares to stand in his way, droids and troopers alike. Murderous, Solo had called it, and Din thinks he can see it now, can understand some of Solo’s concern, but there is another part of him, the one raised at war, that thinks he doesn't mind this angle of Luke much at all.“ bc as much as he’s soft Din is still a rather a morally grey character and I just like the thought that one of the reasons they vibe with each other is that their dark corners fit just as much as their bright ones.

I also very much enjoyed Din as an unreliable narrator who’s view of things and especially Luke was often clouded by his own inability to grasp or process his own emotion and I’m very fond of the head fake in chapter seven where Luke’s POV makes it clear that Luke has pretty much been in love with or at least very fond of him from the get go.

The chapter titles are all kinda related to ships and the sea.

The first sentence in the fic “You know who that was, right?” mirrors the first sentence in Luke’s POV chapter “You know who that is, right?" and Din’s thought of “He thinks of the Jedi often” is also mirrored in Luke’s POV.

#wow ok this got longer than I thought and I have more lol #but this is starting to feel like I'm tooting my own horn and haha no bye #long post #but hey this is like my version of a self reblog I guess #dinluke #oh the things we left behind #I wonder if anyone has caught some of theses #the mirror in the POV switch very likely but I'd be curious about the 'Skywalker' and 'Luke' thing #also curious if the Force resonated with any other neurodiverse ppl out there I know a lot of us here are haha #anyway I should probably have been writing instead of typing this out lmao #let's see if this helps or makes it more uncomfortable #I feel like I'm coming too close to being perceived haha

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snackhobi · 4 years

Text

pairing: jungkook x reader / word count: 7.4k / genre: pacific rim au with brief smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: there are no secrets in the drift. if jungkook were to see the mess inside your head and heart, laid utterly bare, he’d turn away from you.

warnings: sexually explicit content (briefly), unprotected sex (please be safe when you have sex) / reference to injuries but nothing graphic, giant robots powered by love punching big alien monsters

a/n: this is a birthday gift for the amazing @yeojaa. happy birthday, erin. this is completely self serving and is stuffed full with inside references that I hope you’ll enjoy. I wrote this in two days and it kicked my ass because I did so much reading and researching that turned out to not even come up in the story 👁👄👁 you know when I said I was studying? I lied. I was writing HAHAHAH ily I hope you like it hhhh (this is unbeta’ed so please forgive any mistakes it’s 1:30am as I’m scheduling this) (also summaries are so hard, I’m sorry)

Jeon Jungkook really is the perfect posterboy for a Jaeger pilot.

Broad across the shoulders and trim at the waist, all sharp punches and hard muscle, resilient and tough, with a face that’s the perfect balance of angles and softness; the cut of his jaw easing up and into his pretty mouth, the line of his brows subdued by his warm eyes—he’s a Goddamn vision, raw masculinity overlaid on rich veins of boyishness, glittering stratum that sparkle and shine even under the harsh lights of the Shatterdome.

He pouts when he thinks and his hair hangs a little in his big, big eyes and he has dimples that appear when he grins, teeth poking out onto his pretty pink lips, like someone took a rabbit and turned it into a man and packed on pounds of muscle alongside. Undeniably powerful and strong, but youthful and sweet, too.

Alongside Kim Taehyung—arresting and beautiful and somehow affable and approachable, all at the same time—they’re exactly what South Korea needs right now, propelling the country’s new look for their renewed assault against the kaiju. They’re the lucky new Rangers who’ve claimed ownership of the only Mark-5 that their homeland has produced, Bulletproof Striker, a fucking gorgeous Jaeger bristling with the latest and greatest technology that the world has produced.

But that doesn’t mean they’re the best that South Korea has to offer.

Cypher Zero is smaller, lighter, older, but she’s fierce. Just like her pilots. You and Yoongi might not be the burning beacons of hope that Jungkook and Taehyung are, polished and buffed to a squeaky shine, but you don’t need to be. You’re vicious and victorious and show no signs of stopping. The kaiju kills painted on your Mark-4’s shoulder are evidence enough of that, notches for each monster taken down, spray painted in one tiny corner of the huge swathe of burnished metal plating, the red edges of her midnight skin.

Bulletproof Striker is almost untouched, deployed just once since her recent launch, flawless exterior so at odds with Cypher Zero’s battered facade. Cypher’s beautiful, of course, but bears the history of your skirmishes, inside and out: scuffed paintwork, dented metal, rust dripping down from the ladder rungs dotted across her, melting into the obsidian of her hull.

Jungkook and Taehyung move in a way that’s practiced, disciplined motions of combat that their Jaeger echoes in turn. Her mechanical movements reflect those of the men inside her head, skilled and superb. Stunning. But you and Yoongi? You fight dirty, violent and rough; messy bar room brawls; shattered glass and clawing hands in beer soaked backrooms, tinged sulphur yellow under dirty lightbulbs; two kids who fought against a world that was against them.

(Two damaged people coming together in the Drift to make something even stronger than the sum of your parts.)

(Two damaged people who survived the rough hands of the Jaeger Academy, trying to take them, push them, shape them, break them.)

(Life isn’t kind. You’d learned that young, surrounded in the splintered remnants of your childhood home, the facade of family and happiness already gone, long long long ago, leaving you aching and lonely and cold. The prospect of fighting thousands of tons of alien hatred, lifting out of the depths of the uncaring, dark sea? At least you can see the kaiju coming. Broken households and loneliness? A little harder to lay your hands on.)

(But out of everything you lost, you’d gained one thing—Min Yoongi, another quiet, damaged thing, but with the biggest depths of warmth and love underneath that hard surface; your best friend, your brother-in-arms, growing alongside you, with you. Damaged kids turned bitter teenagers turned razor-edged adults, outcasts in solitude, but together. Not alone.)

(The deeper the bond, the better you fight. Falling into the Drift with Yoongi had been easy, years of tangled connection bleeding into the images that flashed across your brain. The same memories from different angles, overlaid with different emotions, undercurrents eddying under the surface that caught both of you and swept you up in its flow; the same mind, bridged by hundreds of tons of metal and technology and firepower underneath you, linked together in the silence of the Drift.)

There’s reverence, in the way these two new pilots look at you both, reverence and awe and respect alike: older Rangers, more experienced, history written across the worn edges of your Drivesuits, the paint flaking away from your battle armour, scuffs and scrapes on the once unblemished veneer; knowledge etched into the feline slant of Yoongi’s eyes, the turn of your shoulders and hips.

You know Jungkook’s track record. You know of the endless months of assessment and sparring and psych evals and Drift tests and simulation drops that every successful Ranger has to go through, and Jungkook had trumped them all, stood atop them like a conqueror surveying his hard-won lands—gifted, talented, some even said God-touched. And yet for all this indomitable talent and skill, there’s still humility at his core, a willingness to defer with respect.

That deference is obvious whenever he sees you. Jungkook’s dark eyes will touch your own, for a moment, dark and deep and bright—and then his gaze will skitter away, cockiness and bravado dissolving into something submissive, yielding. (Shy.) You’ve watched him orbit you, the younger ranger caught in your gravity, always nearby—the Shatterdome is only so big, for its magnitude and sprawling corridors—but never broaching that final gap, that little step, into Cypher Zero’s space, Yoongi’s space, your space. Keeping himself at arm’s length.

South Korea’s golden boy, less afraid of the Kaiju than he is of his sunbaenim.

Jungkook and Taehyung are both beautiful. But you and Yoongi are less so, unapproachable in ways that the younger pilots aren’t, private and prickly, like grasping a patch of stinging nettles with bare hands, stinging and burning.

As if Jungkook isn’t terrifying and gorgeous in his own ways. As if he doesn’t shine brighter than the sun himself. Taehyung moves through the world with a thoughtless, charismatic ease that Jungkook doesn’t share—but he’s still magnetic, bold and brilliant, monstrously skilled at everything he puts his mind to, training again and again and again to get it right, get it right, get it right.

To get it perfect.

But there’s no level of perfectionism that can surmount the twisted, unpredictable nature of the kaiju belched forth from the breach. No matter how good you are, how strong or fast, how smart or seasoned, sometimes you still get caught in that hurricane, even in a Jaeger.

It doesn’t matter how many engines are packed into each muscle strand. It doesn’t matter how fast the pistons and levers and gears shift and move. It doesn’t matter that the pilots in her cockpit are impeccable and incredible. Under the cloak of deepest night and pouring rain, blanketed in darkness and water from the heavens above and the sea below, movement is impossible to track—and when Steelbrute rises from the waves, no one sees the kaiju coming.

Bulletproof Striker takes the hit. Jungkook and Taehyung fight back but they’re blindsided and overwhelmed, and their Jaeger falls to her knees in the churn of the Pacific Ocean, salt water crashing over her in choppy waves as Steelbrute’s merciless maw gapes wide open.

Cypher Zero is 250ft tall and weighs 1410 tons. You and Yoongi are tiny specks of organic matter in a fearsome behemoth of titanium and tungsten and graphene and circuitry, commanders of a weapon that’s the same size as a skyscraper—and yet you wouldn’t think that for how fast you move. Zero hesitation. No verbal communication. Cypher’s legs cut through endless waves and gain momentum with each crashing step that slams into the seafloor before you leap forward in a flurry of motion and Drift powered fury.

Your motions in the Conn-Pod are ragged and incensed, your arms and legs moving in sync with Yoongi, with Cypher Zero, a snarl ripping out of your co-pilot’s usually quiet mouth as the kaiju lurches underneath you. The world narrows down to this: throwing yourself into the fray, jagged knuckles edged with plasma pummelled into Steelbrute’s skin in a scuffle that’s vicious, aggressive, until Bulletproof Striker regains her footing.

The sun is rising, grey and cold on the horizon when Steelbrute finally sinks into the sea, toxic blood flooding the water with neon blue. When you step out of the cockpit, Yoongi’s fringe is matted with sweat, and you can feel all the places the circuitry suit sticks to your skin—piloting a Jaeger is mentally and physically exhausting, every muscle and organ and bone working overtime for endless hours as you fight tooth and nail. Without the helmets in the way, there’s nothing stopping you bumping your foreheads together, heedless of the sweat slicked there; Yoongi’s hand rests at the back of your head, a familiar cradle.

“All good,” you say. Yoongi lets out a quiet bark of a laugh, rough and exhausted.

“I want a nap,” he says, like he always does, even if you’re a long way away from that, still fully suited and due to speak to the Marshalls. There are so, so many things separating you from the bliss of sleep.

One thing that’s not part of the normal routine, though, is the other pilots catching you, demanding your recognition, respectful (Taehyung) but insistent (Jungkook). You know that Yoongi doesn’t like attention or hero-worship, but there’s nothing except gratitude, here, bent heads and words of thanks. You’d saved their lives, after all. Saved their Jaeger from being torn apart, pain screaming through their own bodies of flesh and bone, connected to their metal monster. Of course they’re grateful.

You dismiss it with a hard cut of your hand.

“It’s nothing,” you say.

You’re speaking the words you know are in Yoongi’s head—years of friendship and shared Drifts leaving his thought processes wide open to you—although you know you’re sharper than he is, harsher than he is, even, for all that he looks like the cold one from the outside. Long lashes and silken hair don’t translate to something soft and feminine and pretty, and you’re all ragged edges and rough parts, bleeding into the delivery of your words. Yoongi rounds the words in his mouth and places them into the world with a rumble of quiet strength that belies his past, but you? Your tongue is cutting and terse and drips with distrust, even when you don’t mean it to, staring at these two boys, Jungkook’s eyes so brown and large when he stares back at you.

The truth is that you care about humanity, of course. You care about humanity and you care about the millions of people in the cities that line the coasts and further inland, and you care about your fellow pilots, skilled but soft-hearted as they are. You’re stronger. You have to be. That’s what Yoongi is, that’s what you are: fighters. You fight dirty because you fight to win, not to protect yourselves. You’ll fight and you’ll die for this, for them, even if there’s no friendship there. Not yet. You’re still too distant, for all that you’d thrown yourself in the line of fire to rip the kaiju from the younger Rangers.

And when Jungkook levels a look at you, there’s a flicker of something. A spark. All the glittering of his warm eyes comes together like the cascading sparks of molten fire that fall when metal is cut through— his eyes score through you, down down down, right to your core, underneath all the armour you’ve laid about yourself throughout your life. Your heart stutters. You’ve been watching Jeon Jungkook, and he’s all cocky Ranger bravado, or innocent brown eyes and shy, curving smiles, and yet.

And yet. You know he sees this soft part of you, somehow. Past the thorns and sharp leaves, past the hard husk, into the rich, bursting sweetness inside, oozing red gems of pomegranate that yield so easily to the fingers and mouth.

(He’s temerarious and modest and wickedly perceptive too, it seems.)

“That was our kill,” he says suddenly. Taehyung—the voice piece of the two, the one who’s been smiling and speaking, easy and slow—goes still at his side.

“What?” Yoongi’s eyes pierce through him, but Jungkook keeps his focus on you.

“Steelbrute. Our kill. It was a hit from our rockets that took him out,” Jungkook says, eyes still glinting with that sparkling shine. Slicing through you with an explosion of light. “Not your blades.”

Silence steals over you, for a breath. It’s never truly silent in the Shatterdome, an iron fortress that never sleeps, but for a second, there’s quiet. It wraps around you. Tight. Almost deafening.

But then you break that silence.

You laugh.

You laugh at the cheeky grin that pulls at Jungkook’s lips, the boyish lift to his face. You laugh at his shamelessness, the sudden 180 from his earlier fear. You laugh at the way he’s diluted this astonishing, formidable thing—humanity coming together to destroy alien predators that threaten the planet—into a competition.

“You’re a menace, Jeon Jungkook,” you say.

Stinging nettles you might be, but if you’re grabbed hard and fast by confident hands, you don’t wound. Jeon Jungkook defers to respect, avoids confrontation, bows his head and quiets his mouth, but he knows, now, that he can do this. That he can push you like this, and you’ll let him, sway against it, let yourself be pushed.

Yoongi slides you a glance out the corner of his eyes, a light touch, a tacit agreement to an unspoken question.

“You can have it. Steelbrute’s yours.” There’s the smallest curl to your lips as you speak for you both. There’s something weirdly easy and familiar to this, to this interaction, even if you’ve barely exchanged words before now, giving this triumph to the other pilots hand over fist.

(Giving it to Jungkook on a platter.)

You can see the flare of triumph in Jungkook’s eyes. You know it’s not for the notch of their first kill, one they can add to their Jaeger. It’s for something far harder to achieve, something far more ephemeral: digging down and past your cool veneer and lifting out a smile, spreading it across your lips like warm butter, liquid gold.

And he keeps making you smile.

Jeon Jungkook, you find, is a force of nature, relentless, an ocean. Sometimes he’s soft, loving waves of glittering blue that crash on pearly white beaches, playful and bright. Sometimes, he’s intense, the crashing waves of a storm tossed sea, powerful and unstoppable. Always, he’s striking, even when he’s not trying—even more so because of it, moving without thought or uncertainty, a silence settling over your thoughts whenever you see him like this. See him in this raw state, so unafraid where before he’d curbed his tongue and bent his head in front of you. Now, he’s just himself, without filter.

Taehyung is there too, of course. Both pilots join your small, fiercely private circle, not just a path from you to Yoongi any more. They become intertwining lines, a pattern that’s drawn between the four of you, pilots, friends. And you learn, that for all that you’d thought that Taehyung was the dominant one outside of their Jaeger, social and extroverted and unabashed, Jungkook isn’t quiet. Not when he’s comfortable.

(Not, now, when he’s with you.)

He’s a myriad of things, endlessly deep, so different from you, from Yoongi, but—the truth of it settles inside you, your joints, the marrow of your bones, the blood that pulses forth from your heart each time it beats in your chest, liquid life running through you.

Drift compatibility.

Not that it matters. You already have a partner. You’re never going to open yourself up to anyone that isn’t Yoongi, who’s seen every part of you already. There’d been no fear about letting Yoongi see inside your brain, your heart, the raw, bleeding parts of you—because he’d already known them. Just like you’d known his. Yoongi stands to your right, inside the Conn-Pod and out, a driving force, even in his silence.

But Jungkook is softer, sweeter, for all his raw power and skill, respect engraved into his every motion, even when he’s teasing and making you laugh. Even when he ignores the social guidelines that he should follow, does follow for others, everyone except you.

And you don’t mind. You don’t bite out insults at him when he slides into the quiet hollow you’ve scraped out, a small space with just enough room for the people you keep in your heart. You’re still barbed and spiked, warding away unwanted attention, but for Jungkook, the claws retract.

You’re still you, of course. Jungkook calls you mean, says that you bully him, even as he’s flopped across your bunk, eating your rations, shovelling coveted popcorn into his mouth. He might pout and sigh and cry oppression, but you’re soft on him and he knows it. That quiet hollow in your heart is a little larger, now, a little louder. Jungkook is brazen in his claim of this space, spreading each of his limbs wide as he fits himself into every part of it. He doesn’t know every piece of your past, and you don’t plan to let him see all the messy parts bundled in your chest, but. But he’s still there.

And you let him stay. You make a home for him inside you and let him take the key. He might tilt his head and goad you, might pretend there’s a genuine challenge in the set of his jaw, but you know it’s all tempered with admiration, veneration. Friendship.

(And where he clearly respects you, you admire him in turn. You’re reminded of your differences every second he moves and breathes and just exists in front of you, but you don’t have to be similar to someone to realise just how incredible they are.)

(But though you’re different, there are similarities. You’re not a mirrored image, a reflection, like you are with Yoongi. Instead, you’re a line drawn between two separate places, an isohel, sun lighting up your world for the same sweep of the clock even for how far apart you are. Sharing that same, tenuous thing, for all your contrasting parts.)

(This thing that’s growing, held in your hands. This soft, gentle thing, shimmering, frail, unfurling slowly but undeniably. Tinged with happiness, disbelief. Disbelief that you’ve found this, that you can see Jungkook across the echoing cavern of the Shatterdome’s main hall, so far in the distance, barely visible at the foot of his Jaeger—and something will settle in your chest. Featherlight, iridescent. Something comforting.)

When you fight the kaiju, now, it’s with a deeper reserve of desperation. Taehyung and Jungkook aren’t just fellow pilots, dongsaeng that you’re obliged to look after: they’re your friends, something more than that too, part of the rare handful of people in the world who understand, this overwhelming pressure to fight and win and protect the things you love. The people you love. They understand what it’s like to step into someone else’s head, to be connected to that person on a level that’s unfathomable, anchored in a depth of love that’s endless. You’re their aegis, now, their shield.

(Jungkook’s shield.)

Maybe that’s what’s to blame. Maybe that’s why you’re so sloppy, this time. Maybe that’s why you throw yourselves in the way of the blow that was meant for Bulletproof Striker. Maybe that’s why Ojousan shreds Cypher Zero’s chest apart, her head, why Yoongi is almost ripped from you, his fear and pain screaming through your neural connection. You feel everything he feels and more beside, your heart hammering in your throat as you scream, Jaeger’s arm swinging up and around in tandem with your own motions as you try to rip the kaiju away, anything to protect Yoongi, so scared of losing him, always always always, scared of being left alone.

But you’re not alone.

Bulletproof Striker lifts up like an avenging angel. Her horns roar a challenge, an echoing battle cry as the younger pilots move in. Heavier and stronger, keeping her balance even in the turbulence of a fight, she takes the hits, gives back her own, sends the kaiju down into the crashing waves, waits for it to rise. But the monster is crafty and quick and even as you’re lifting your left arm—Yoongi’s hurt, so hurt, you know this, feel this, but he moves with you to ready the plasma cannon buried in the mechanics of your Jaeger’s hand, even if he’s keening with pain—you watch as the other pilots, too, fall victim to the clawed tail of the kaiju, screeching through layers of alloys and across their Conn-Pod.

Terror strikes through every part of you and morphs into hate. You hate the kaiju, hate your own weakness, hate the pain that’s been saved from being written into your own body while Yoongi screams and sobs even though he still fights. Your motions are anguished and desperate as you battle to overcome this beast that’s almost taken away everything that matters to you—and Cypher Zero, Yoongi, as damaged and hurt as they are, come through. (Like they always do, for you, always.)

And somehow, despite everything, for all the self-hatred and pain and fear, you pull through. You pull through. Damaged and hurt but alive.

Barely.

Barely alive.

(One hand gives, the other takes away.)

It takes hours for them to pick Yoongi’s Drivesuit from his body, crumpled around him from Ojousan’s claws, cutting into the soft flesh of his body, body ruined further by the fighting he’d been forced into despite his injuries; so many of Taehyung’s bones are shattered, and when you finally see him awake and with his eyes open, there are burst blood vessels that cast red across the usually warm expression, his friendly eyes.

You should be grateful that they’re alive. You should be on your hands and knees, weeping, benedictions dripping from your graceless mouth as you thank whatever merciless God above decided to turn their gaze on you and grant you this leniency. So many pilots have died and will continue to die, you know this, but somehow your partners are still alive.

And you are grateful. You are. But there’s bitterness on your tongue, twisted across your palate, sour and acrid and filling you with its taste. You’d been foolish and reckless and you’d almost lost the things you cared about most, even if you’d destroyed the kaiju, torn it apart and left its fluorescent indigo blood to corrode the ocean.

That’s what’s important, isn’t it. Saving humanity. One person, two people, four people—you’re the tiniest cogs in a whirring engine of billions. Unimportant. Just a spinning part that keeps the machine going.

When you’re not with Yoongi or Taehyung, an unmoving presence from their hospital beds, a hovering gargoyle carved from stone, you’re with Jungkook. Always, always, always. Somehow you’d both escaped without the injuries inflicted on your partners—you’d manage to break your little finger, and Jungkook had a black eye and a twisted ankle, and the both of you had mottles of bruises cast across your skin, pulled muscles, an ache carved into your bones, but that was it. That was it. It was almost laughable, how unscathed you are.

You hate it.

(It should have been you.)

Your legs—unbroken, unharmed—hang over steel scaffolding, motionless as you watch the tiny specks of people scuttling across the catwalks that criss-cross Cypher Zero’s body. You can see under her skin, damage peeling back all the layers of metal that should be holding her together. Endless showers of sparks fall and scatter as she’s stitched back together. Your beautiful girl is so damaged, so disfigured.

(You’d caught Yoongi as he’d fallen from the harness, listened to the horrible noises that had torn out of his lips as he’d dripped blood and pain over your shaking hands.)

The bland food you’d scraped off your dinner tray settles fitfully in your stomach, still one second, nausea bubbling up your throat the next.

It’s one of the rare times you’ve been alone, since… since everything. You’ve been taking comfort in Jungkook’s presence, unwavering and understated, needing someone there when staring at Yoongi’s battered face proved too much. Even with his own upheaval Jungkook’s been there, at your side, always close. Eyes locked on you and taking everything in, the tired set to your face, the expression that tugs down your lips, and still, he stays.

But he’d disappeared after you’d eaten, a peculiar look on his face—you know him well enough now to recognise that look, that it means he’s got something in his head, some plan he means to unfold. It’s the first time you’ve seen it since Taehyung had been pulled out of the Conn-Pod. It’s some semblance of normality, an expression of something other than pale-faced dread and bone-shivering guilt.

(You feel it too, that survivor’s guilt. Taehyung and Yoongi will recover but it’ll take time and so much suffering and you wish you could take that from them, heft that burden onto your own shoulders.)

(You know Jungkook feels the same.)

(You see it written in the tense lines of his body. Hear it unspoken in the words he shares with you. The bruises on his skin melt from red to purple to blue to yellow, but even if his body heals, his brain and heart bear the scars of helplessness.)

Jungkook reappears, finds you at the heavy steel door that leads into your room, rusted and worn but silent as it swings open in front of you. His eyes are wide and he’s breathless, like he’s been running, chest heaving as he sucks in air through his parted lips, a flash of teeth and tongue as he smiles.

Despite everything, you smile back. Helpless for that smile, always, happier now for the sight of it, for how little you’ve seen it. You want to see that smile every day. You don’t want him to worry for anything. You want him to feel the same way you do, when you see him: that quiet, maybe selfish thought that things are okay.

Maybe he does. (His eyes are so warm.) He presses something into your hands, something soft and round like a well-practised secret, and then he’s gone. You can tell by the gait of his stride that he’s going back to Taehyung, giving you a moment of lonely reprieve to wash the grime and dirt off your useless body before you follow in his footsteps, stationed at Yoongi’s side.

The door swings shut behind you.

You lift your hand.

It’s an orange.

It’s a small, overripe thing, hard nub of the stem falling away from the skin with only the lightest brush of your fingers. You stare at the fruit, its brightness cutting through the muted sepia tones of your surroundings, a point of colour in an otherwise dull room.

You haven’t seen an orange in months. Rationing is tough on everyone, even Jaeger pilots. You’d mentioned in passing, so long ago, an old habit of yours. Before something else floated above it, more important and interesting, you’d made a fleeting statement that had flitted across the surface of the conversation: you liked eating oranges in the shower. Liked that nice, cool citrus sweetness in your mouth while the rest of your body was caught in the fall of warm water.

It’s such a small, tiny thing. Just the briefest lament—there are more important things than the fact you can’t have shower oranges any more, after all—and you’d forgotten you’d even mentioned it.

But Jungkook hadn’t.

It’s almost syrupy sweet, this orange. You savour each slice, pressing them between your teeth, feeling the rush of juice burst forth through the pith and skin, and it’s so good you could cry.

You do cry.

Your mouth is full of orange and your eyes are full of tears and your head is full of—of—something, something so all encompassing that it overwhelms you, water cascading down the aching planes of your body as you crumple inwards. Jungkook had protected you with the overwhelming power of Bulletproof Striker, and he’s protecting you now, soft and considerate and kind, vulnerable and human. Stripped of tons of metal and technology, Jungkook wears his beating heart on his sleeve and is none the weaker for it.

This seemingly small thing means so much, so so so much. You understand him, and he understands you too, knows that this gesture is indicative of support and care and nurturing, a tiny fragment of peace he can offer you in the tumult of everything out of your control.

A tiny fragment of peace that’s part of a greater whole, all the things that Jungkook gives to you.

When the Marshalls gather you and tell you the plan going forwards, you’re unsurprised.

It makes sense, of course. Four pilots down to two still leaves a pair, and Bulletproof Striker is nearly functional even if Cypher Zero will stay out of commission while she’s rebuilt. Simple maths. One Jaeger, two pilots. You and Jungkook.

You’re scared.

You know you’re Drift compatible. Every fight in the Kwoon Combat Room is evidence enough of that. A dialogue, each challenge is meant to be a dialogue to show physical compatibility, and it is: there’s perfect sync in how you each move to strike, even if your motions are so different, muscles burning and breaths coming faster each time you attack, parry, strike, block. It’s not about winning or losing. It’s a conversation, one that you and Jungkook fall into without thought.

And he would be the perfect partner. That much isn’t in doubt. Loyal and open and strong, honourable and brave and kind—and you know him, have grown to learn so much about this golden boy, this bright, brilliant boy. He’s fucking indomitable and anyone would be lucky to find themselves in the same Jaeger as Jeon Jungkook.

But there are no secrets in the Drift.

To let someone in, you have to trust them. And you do, you do trust Jungkook, probably far more than makes sense, some unspoken thing between you burning like a wildfire. But while you trust him, confident in his strength and his heart, you trust yourself less.

You’ll be flayed open, naked and defenceless. He’ll see right to the core of you, every dirty corner of your crumpled soul, every shameful part of your foundations, uneven brickwork layered into your shaky temperament; strong one second, weak the next. He’ll see that you’re hard inside, too, biting and acidic right down to your shrivelled heart. This nascent thing that you’ve been building with Jungkook, been keeping safe in the cradle of your careful hands, will sputter out and die.

“Baby.”

Yoongi’s voice is comforting, a familiar rumble that rolls through your ears as you rest your head in his lap.

“And I mean that you’re literally being a baby,” he continues, and you curl your lip back from your teeth in a small snarl, menacing.

Yoongi just continues to thread his hands through your hair.

You’ve Drifted with Yoongi often and long enough to know how every thread of thought unspools in that skull of his. You know he has every confidence in the unshakeable pillar of your soul. He’s a brother to you, a connection that thrums deep in your veins even without the intimacy of the Drift, and the love you hold for him is undying and true.

But whatever you have with Jungkook is so timorous in the face of that.

“It’s different.” Yoongi looks down at the twist of your face. You know his thoughts and he knows yours too, your face and heart an open book to him. “But different isn’t bad.”

You keep your mouth shut, keep the words swallowed down in your throat, shoved down to the pit of your stomach. Keep it secret. Keep it safe.

“Baby,” he says again, softer, lower. This time, you know it’s an endearment.

At the end of the day, no matter what fear grips cold and endless at your insides, you’ll do it. You’ll Drift with Jungkook. You’ll throw everything you have into the pyre, watch it burn and turn to ash, if it means you can keep everyone safe. To save Yoongi, Taehyung, Jungkook—you’ll open yourself up to the mortifying ordeal of opening up, laying yourself bare. You have to.

It’s chaotic, anyway. The day that your practice Drift is scheduled is the day the next kaiju rises out of the breach, that dreaded rift between our world and theirs, because why would you be allowed to breathe, even for a second?

It’s a scramble into the cockpit. There’s no time for trial runs or test Drifts. You fly or you fall. Everyone’s in a state of orderly upheaval as you’re suited up and left to stride forwards into a Conn-Pod that isn’t yours, in a Jaeger that isn’t yours.

(Left to stride forwards to stand next to someone who isn’t yours.)

Your Drivesuit is grey. Jungkook’s is white. There’s a subtle hologramatic sheen laid across the planes of his armour, leaving him a multicoloured vision that shines out under the flicker of the cockpit’s endless tiny buttons and lights. Your own suit is a matte, gunmetal with accents of burning scarlet, far more battered and worn. Dark and wild in the face of Jungkook’s radiance. He’s the perfect answer to the kaiju invasion. You, though, feel like an interloper in a space that wasn’t designed for you, this circle room that’s been home to Jungkook and his true, real partner.

But he’s looking at you like there’s no one else he’d rather have by his side.

He doesn’t care that everything about this moment just cements how he’s too good for you in every conceivable way, elevated above you. Doesn’t care that you’re just a temporary stop gap. There’s trepidation, of course, skittering nerves that dance across his face for this first Drift, surrounded by all the commotion that’s swallowing the world up outside the cockpit. But there’s also that fire in his eyes, one you’ve learned to expect: Jungkook is a wildfire and will surmount any obstacle in a blaze of white-hot light.

And he wants you along for the ride.

(Burns bright for it.)

“You ready?” He asks, and the tiny tremor in his words takes you off guard even as it soothes a balm over the rash of apprehension that prickles across your skin.

(Because he’s nervous, too.)

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you answer, truly.

His eyes crinkle into a smile, crescents of happiness as his lip peels back from his teeth. It should be jarring, seeing his sweet bunny smile in the pit of a Jaeger, so at odds with the military polycarbonate that girds his body with protection, the masculine edges of his face—but it’s not. The world is just a backdrop to Jeon Jungkook, dropping away as you fall into his eyes, twinkling stars of brightness and warmth that hold you safe, even now.

Peace and contentment steals over you. You’re almost shocked by it, the way your own face softens into a smile, the rising beat of your heart. Every ragged messy edge in you is smoothed over by Jungkook’s presence and you glow for him.

When the Conn-Pod drops, there’s the familiar weightlessness, the sway of your body in the harness as you fall. Anticipation roils through you as Bulletproof Striker’s head locks into place, whirring mechanisms securing you to nearly 2000 tons of metal, so much heavier than your own Jaeger. You’ve taken Jungkook’s usual place and he’s taken Taehyung’s, the right hemisphere, the dominant pilot, familiar with this machine in a way you’re not.

Not yet, at least.

“We’ve got this.”

Jungkook’s voice cuts through the noise, the AI talking at you, a narration of events you’ve long grown used to. You turn your head to look at him. He’s already looking at you, intent and sincere. Like always.

“Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, we have.”

There’s no point being afraid. In a few seconds, Jungkook will be in your head, washing over every part of you—and you’ll be in his, pressing your ethereal touch into every facet that comes together to make Jeon Jungkook who he is.

Seconds pass. There’s a little hitch in his breath, a stiffness to his limbs, and he shuts his eyes. You breathe in deep, deep, deep, sucking in a harsh breath into your greedy lungs—

—the timer hits zero—

—and then the Drift slams into you all at once, all encompassing and consuming, threading your minds together.

(Drifting with Yoongi is easy, the familiarity of coming home after so much time away.)

(But this?)

(This is throwing yourself into a cold lake on a hot summer’s day, bracing and refreshing and breath-stealing all at once, shocking life into every one of your limbs, so sharp and fast you’re scared you might drown before you breach the surface, water holding onto you and not letting you go. This is driving reckless and fast down empty roads, watching the world pass you in a blur, laughing in delight at the pleasure of it all. This is scaling a cliffside with nothing but your own hands and determination, digging your fingers into the unyielding rock, pulling yourself up-up-up, never letting yourself fall.)

(This is having Jungkook beside you. This is having Jungkook diving into the lake with all the grace of an Olympian before he rises to the surface, tosses his hair carelessly out of his face, and spits a mouthful of water at you with laughter in his eyes. This is having Jungkook behind the driver’s wheel, shifting gears without thought, looking away from the road to watch the way your hair dances in the wind. This is having Jungkook climbing beside you, waiting for you at the top, holding a hand out to pull you up and over so you can sprawl out beside him, exhausted and exuberant at the top of this mountain, basking in the sun with Jungkook just a hair’s breadth away from you.)

(He takes one look at you. He takes one look at all the dark of your memories, the cascading mess of your insides, the hidden things that are open to him in the Drift, cut open and peeled back for his gaze—and he doesn’t look away.)

(He sees everything, past skin and muscle and bone and nerves, even deeper, right into your heart—)

(—all the torrents that eddy the deep waters of your soul—)

(—and he doesn’t look away.)

(He doesn’t look away.)

(Can’t look away.)

(Doesn’t want to.)

(Never wants to.)

(Jeon Jungkook takes one look at you, your whole being, and he knows you.)

(And he doesn’t want you any less.)

It’s just a second, a flicker, a breath, this first connection in this Drift, falling into each other. But it’s also a lifetime, two lifetimes, four lifetimes; your memories, Jungkook’s memories, Yoongi’s memories in yours, Taehyung’s memories in Jungkook’s. Layers and layers and years and years piled over one another, a tumbling sprawl—but it’s easy. It’s easy, so easy, Jungkook seeing you, you seeing him, everything he is, everything you are, everything you are to each other, with each other, for each other. The important things. The things you need to know to navigate this together, in sync even before now, reading each other to a level neither had even realised.

And when you’ve killed the kaiju. When you’ve walked Bulletproof Striker back to shore, brought her back to the Shatterdome, back home, it doesn’t end. You lift out of the Drift, step out of your Drivesuits, as different as they are (as different as you are), and it doesn’t end.

Jungkook’s eyes linger, as heavy as a physical touch, and even as congratulations for a successful drop are bandied about you, he doesn’t leave your side. He keeps his hand against yours—not intertwined, but brushing, the curl of his fingers against your own. Touching. You’re not the protector here. He’s protecting you, in a way that doesn’t leave you feeling inferior or weak. You feel soft and warm and small and safe, pulled inexorably towards him, supported, buoyed up, and you don’t feel selfish for it.

Because he wants this.

He wants to be your comfort and your support.

He doesn’t want it to end.

(You don’t want it to end.)

And when you finally break away from those crowds, released from the shackles of responsibility and expectation—when you’re finally left alone, the two of you with each other, there’s no hesitation when you come together.

He lays you out beneath him and has you sobbing, back arching into the pleasure he draws out of your body, playing you like a maestro. Because he knows you, after all. He knows exactly how to trail his lips across your skin, your neck and stomach and thighs, painting marks across your body like it’s his personal canvas. He knows exactly how to have you twisting underneath him, how to pull those pretty sounds from your lips, fucking you with his fingers and his tongue until you’re a shaking mess. He kisses you sweet, merciless, letting you claw at his skin as you beg for more, more more more, wanting it, needing it, wanting him, needing him.

And you know he’ll give it to you. He’ll give himself to you, give you everything you ask for. You know how he wants to see you fall apart and you know how to move your body to have him gritting his teeth and staring in awe. You know how desperate he is to worship you, to show you his adoration and reverence, and you open up for him, unfurl like a flower, dripping nectar. When he finally presses into you, hot and long and thick, it’s so good you could cry. You draw him in-in-in, into your body and arms and heart, pressing your lips to the sweat at his brow, the taste of skin and salt and Jungkook bursting across your tongue.

There’s no Drift here, no curl of memories and unspoken thoughts between you. It’s physical and human, the crash of your bodies against each other, skin on skin, the thrust of his cock pressing into the dripping folds of your cunt. It’s the other half of that connection, the final piece, this thing you have with Jungkook, this perfect balance you have with him. It sears itself across your body and into your soul: it’s pleasure and passion and devotion carved into each touch of your lips and fingers, each roll of your hips, each time Jungkook makes you cum, gasping for him.

When he’s finally come apart inside you, spilling into your willing heat as you shake beneath him, arms and legs wrapped around his body as you pull him as close as you can, unwilling to let go—it still doesn’t end. You’re so wrapped up in Jungkook, in his arms, his heart, and you know he won’t let you go, either. He presses his lips against yours, chases those kisses, quiet and chaste to open-mouthed and dirty as the mood takes you, and then Jungkook rolls over you again, a spark in his eyes as he decides he’s still hungry for you.

You know, now, that all that time ago, when you carved that space for him into your chest, he’d done the same for you. He’d laid his heart at your feet and waited there, kneeling, for you to accept it, patient and willing. Staring at you with all the deep love you never thought you deserved, never thought you’d receive. But here he is. Here he is, love burning in his dark brown eyes. Eyes that have seen all the damaged, aching parts of you and love you anyway.

“I’m yours.”

Jungkook shines so bright at your words, a supernova of joy. His smile is so wide and his gaze is so soft, for you, for you, for you.

“Everything I am is for you,” he murmurs, letting the words curl into the air, settle across your skin, sink deep inside your chest. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel this touch of him inside you, wrapped around your heart.

And when you lift your hands, he comes so easily. He presses his cheek into the curve of your fingers, lets you hold him, lets you cup those lovely cheeks in your palms.

“I love you,” he says.

Right now, in this instant, there’s nothing but him. No kaiju, no Jaegers, no crumbling world, nothing. There’s only him, and you, together.

“I love you too,” you reply—and when you smile, gentle and tender, Jungkook falls in love all over again.

Burns bright for you.

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kanonsarchivedblog · 3 years

Text

Might Be Onto Somethin' (Kiss Me More)

Word Count: 2142 Rating: E Character(s): Mitsuri Kanroji Ships: None; Mentions of Rengoku Kyōjurō, Iguro Obanai, Sanemi Shinazugawa Genre: Smut Author's Notes: I... Have no excuse other than the fact that Mitsuri is cute and she deserves so much love. And many partners. Give her all of the partners please. She has so much love to give- This can also be read over on my ao3! ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ The perks of having your own portion of the compound meant the peace and quiet that came with it. It was nice to be able to just relax, to not have to worry about being walked in on. A nice soak in the hot spring had been well earned! A trim to the ends of her hair to get rid of any split ends and to keep the long layers still looking good, and then a bit of skin care! Mitsuri was even able to paint her nails! And her toe nails!

Evening was falling, the sounds of laughter coming from her siblings filling the air as she closed the shoji. Dinner was already done; they would all be retiring to their own spaces soon enough. Summer was in full swing, the heat of the day melting away, though that didn’t mean it still wasn’t warm- too warm to wear proper clothes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d stripped out of her dinner kimono so quickly; she took a moment to simply stand in the nude, enjoying the slight cool breeze that drifted through the room from an open window.

Open window. Naked. Oh, no!

A squeak escaped her as she grabbed hold of a light cotton yukata, slipping it on to cover herself, cheeks growing rosy in embarrassment. What if someone had come by? And seen her? That would have been so awkward! What if it had been Tomioka-san? OR Shinobu-san? Oh, she wouldn’t have been able to look them in the eye! Or even Uzui-san!

… Or Rengoku-kun.

Or… Or Iguro-san…

Swallowing roughly, Kanroji turned on her heel and marched herself to her bedroom, chastising herself for even considering those thoughts. That- that wasn’t ladylike! Was it? No- yes? A groan slipped free as she flopped onto her futon, face pressed into the blankets. It wasn’t… Wrong to feel lust. She knew this. It also wasn’t wrong to feel love! And it… Wasn’t a bad thing to be attracted to people- to people she knew well! There wasn’t anything bad with that at all!

Kyōjurō had been her friend for years- they’d known each other long before they became Hashira. He’d been her teacher, even! And she’d watched as he grew- as they both grew! Cheeks tinting with an emotion she couldn’t quite place, she rolled over onto her back, staring up at her ceiling. Her window was open in here, too; from there, she could see down the hill to where the Rengoku compound sat.

Her gaze drifted to the window, watching as clouds began to drift across the night sky, the stars peeking out from behind clouds occasionally. It wasn’t a bad thing to… Want. Everyone wanted something, someone- it was natural. Her thighs clenched, an unconscious movement that drew a soft gasp out. Her eyes slid shut, the battle beginning to wane in her mind. This was okay. It was! Especially with… How good it would feel, oh- oh, it would feel good.

“This is okay,” she decided, speaking softly to the empty bedroom. Pushing herself up, she glanced around- as if making sure she was truly alone. Which was silly- of course she was alone! She would have heard if someone came in. A giddy smile curled her lips as she settled back down against her pillows, nimble fingers quickly undoing the tie that held the yukata together, allowing for the fabric to shift.

Her eyes slid shut as she drew in a slow, nervous breath. It wasn’t as if she never touched herself- she did, more often than she really wanted to admit. The tint in her cheeks darkened as she squeezed her thighs together again, creating a gentle sort of pressure that had a sigh slipping free. A hand raised- not her own, not in her mind, no, this hand was much larger than her own, somehow still so soft despite wielding a wicked blade- and came to peel away the yukata, baring her naked form to the room. She was proud of her physique- she was soft, her tummy softer than her fellow Hashira, but beneath that layer of softness was muscle she’d always had, would always have. She liked it- liked having soft hips, a soft tummy, soft thighs.

Iguro-san liked her thighs. He’d complimented her on them a few days ago- when they’d all been granted time off to have their blades sharpened. It had been an idle comment in a conversation with Shinobu-san, who had brought up the idea of a lighter fabric for their summer uniforms. They’d all agreed- it would be nice not to smother in the heavy, dark fabric. Tengen had mentioned how it was smart to have a uniform like her own- a skirt, which did mean she was able to cool off faster than her companions.

The conversation had drifted, which let Obanai murmur close to her ear that he enjoyed her uniform quite a bit- after all, it allowed him to see her beautiful thighs. It had made her blush, had made her squeeze her thighs together and hide a smile.

“Iguro-san,” she sighed out, hand drifting lower, nails ghosting against the skin of a thigh before digging in in a way that gave both pain and pleasure- something she was certain he would enjoy. Something he would do. “Please…”

He wasn’t the only one who looked- she would never admit it aloud, but she caught Kyōjurō looking at her chest a few times, his gaze soft, lids heavy before he caught himself and looked away, cheeks rosy. She thought it was cute! She was more than aware of her bust- it caused her problems at times, especially if she couldn’t bind the proper way before a mission. But oh…

A hand cupped her left breast, fingers squeezing the soft flesh. She pictured the hand to be larger, much larger and warmer, massaging and squeezing, pinching at her nipples just so, drawing out a soft squeal because oh, that’s sensitive! “Kyo-” she whined, head turning to the side, thighs parting as the hand shifted to the other, giving it the same treatment. “Sensitive,” she whispered, though she didn’t hear her own voice- the rasp of another, of a tongue drifting across her nipple, of silver hair and wild eyes.

The hand on her thigh slipped upward, dragging sharp nails along the inside of her thigh. It sent a shock through her system, her legs jolting with the pleasure it drew forth. “Iguro-san!” She gasped, and for a moment, she swore she heard a chuckle- his chuckle, but it only made her hand settle over herself, adrenaline and lust mingling in her veins. Her toes curled as she slipped her middle finger between her folds, surprised to find herself already wet. Then again-

She had been excited for days now, hadn’t had time to handle this.

Oh, but the finger pressing against a bundle of nerves drew her from her thoughts quickly, a moan drifting into the open air of the bedroom at the relief that brief touch gave. Her eyes opened, blinking in the darkness of her bedroom, the images dispelling for a moment.

Toy. She needed something. She needed to be filled- to feel full. It wasn’t as if she could just… Go get the real thing! No, instead she rolled over, grabbing an ornate box that looked as if it should hold jewelry, and tugged it closer. It was inconspicuous; no one would ever think of what it would hold. The toy itself was a good replica of the real thing, thicker near the base, thinner towards the top with a flared head. The material used was soft so as to not cause discomfort- perfect for her, considering how sensitive she could be sometimes. And tonight was certainly one of those times.

Rolling back onto her bed, she took hold of another pillow and slid it down, settling it beneath her rear. Eyes closing once more, images flooded back to the forefront of her mind. The toy pressed to her lips, and if she thought hard enough, she could imagine it having heat along with the weight it held. Her lips parted, the toy slipping in, her tongue curling around the head before she forced her jaw to relax. She’d never admit it out loud, but she’d trained herself with this toy, her throat relaxing. Fingers of another hand drifted low, gathering the slickness that had formed between her lower lips before slipping inside, drawing out a whine around the toy. Her brows furrowed as she tried to time the thrusts with the toy in her mouth, brushing against that one spot every now and then.

In her mind, it wasn’t her fingers in her, or a toy in her mouth- no, the fingers belonged to a man with golden and ruby hair who pressed kisses to her thighs as he opened her up and tore her apart, as he coaxed her closer and closer to the edge with his delicate touches. In her mouth sat the cock of the Snake Pillar, thrusting slowly, deeply, fucking her face.

Too close, too close- she pulled her fingers free and slipped the toy from her mouth with a whine, head falling back. Not yet, she didn’t want to stop yet. Licking her lips, she readjusted, bringing the toy down to settle between her lips, rocking slowly, the head nudging against her clit with each rock until she couldn’t handle it, slipping the toy inside slowly, a hiss slipping free at the stretch. It wasn’t painful, not in the least- no, it felt good, wonderfully so. She whined, nose scrunching up as it bottomed out. She took a moment to adjust, shifting her hips to get a more comfortable angle.

A hand settled at her breasts once more, groping, teasing as she began to move her hand. “Oh,” she whispered, brows furrowing, “yes- yes, like that! I like that, please, yes,” she began to babble as the toy sped up- no, not a toy. Obanai was between her thighs, Kyōjurō behind her, holding her, his hands on her chest as Obanai used her. “Harder, harder, harder- please, I’ve been a good girl!” She whined, lost to her fantasy. “Obanai- Obanai, please.”

'Only good girls get to cum. Are you sure you've been good?' The phantom image asked, voice gruff- Oh. Oh, that would be Sanemi.

“I have!” She squealed, hips rising as the toy began to hit that one spot dead center. “I have, I’ve been good! ‘Nemi, ‘Nemi!” She whined, body moving with the force she used. “Kyo- Oba- oh, there, there, there, don’t stop!”

'We won't stop,' Kyo’s voice whispered in her ear as his fingers played with her nipple, twisting, pinching, massaging. 'Not until you're sobbing and making a mess for us.'

“Fuck me!” She pleaded, something so vulgar that, had she not been in such a worked up state, would have embarrassed her. “Please! I’m a good girl! I’m your good girl! Fuck me, please, God- Obanai, you feel so good! So good in me, so good, yes, yes, 𝘺𝘦𝘴!”

'Gonna be a good girl and cum for me?' Obanai asked, panting. 'Cum on my cock like a good girl, Mitsuri?'

“Yes, yes- Obanai, Ob-” She clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her scream as she tumbled over the edge, legs twitching, chest heaving as she kept fucking herself. “Harder, harder, please-” she begged, working herself higher and higher up before her hand stopped, body stilling. Tears spilled free, trailing down her cheeks as she removed her hand from her mouth, panting harshly. Wet- very… Wet? Blinking to clear her vision, Mitsuri shifted her hips.

Oh.

Oh!

“Oh, no- that’s- that’s new, oh dear, oh no,” she whispered, pulling the toy free so that she could sit up and gawk at the wet… Puddle. That was a puddle. “OH-” She squeaked, cheeks red as strawberries as she realized what she’d done. She couldn’t stand to clean off her bed- not yet, anyway. She’d clean the blankets and sheets tomorrow, but that poor pillow… “At least you were already ready to be tossed,” she murmured, a giggle bubbling up.

She settled back down on a clean portion of her bed, body relaxing. Sanemi? Kyo? And Obanai? Oh, my! She covered her face with her hands and let out a soft squeal. How would she look them in the eye tomorrow! She shifted, staring at the window- were her eyes playing tricks on her? Brows furrowing, she rose to her feet and stepped closer, poking her head out. No one was there.

Huh.

She could have sworn she’d seen golden and ruby hair. Strange.

Perhaps it was wishful thinking. Shrugging, she turned back to the mess she now had to clean up. Or…

“Or I could… Have some more fun?”

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #mitsuri kanroji #rengoku kyoujurou #sanemi shinaguzawa #iguro obanai #demon slayer smut #kny imagines #m's scribbles #not safe m&ms

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

Text

and then I don’t feel so bad

thanks again to @thecomfortofoldstorries for coming through when I whined at her about needing ideas

also shout-out to my older sister for being the coolest and getting this song stuck in my head today (happy birthday, sis. wish we’d been raised together)

---

Geralt holds the package tightly with both hands and glares down at it with icy anxiety building at the center of his chest. The cloak he’d special ordered two weeks ago is wrapped in brown paper, tied closed with a length of dark blue woolen string. The Witcher, who has faced countless monsters and angry villagers and vengeful nobles alike, takes a deep breath in through his nose and shudders at the thought of his next self-chosen contract: giving Jaskier a Solstice present. He hopes the cloak is good enough. He hopes that he chose a fashionable color, one that Jaskier will enjoy wearing no matter where he chooses to go this winter. Geralt hopes that the heavy wool he’d painstakingly decided on is the right kind of material for Jaskier’s tastes. He hopes… he hopes that everything he’s about to say and do goes well and that he doesn’t fuck this all up.

“Jaskier,” he calls, keeping his tone light as he knocks on the door of their shared room. “Are you decent?”

“Never!” Jaskier laughs from within. Geralt hears a series of quick, light-soled footsteps crossing the floor before the door is flung open to reveal Jaskier in all his evening glory. The bard is, as usual, painfully correct. He’s not very decent at all; his hair is a mess of brown waves that tumble down to cover his smooth, pale forehead. The apples of his cheeks are flushed fuchsia with a combination of wine and the high of a good show. His frilly white shirt is unlaced at the throat and loosened all the way down to reveal the sharp angles of his collarbones. Geralt gulps air like a man near to drowning and pushes his way inside. Has it gotten hotter, all of a sudden? Jaskier’s eyebrows furrow with worry and he closes the door behind his Witcher. “What’s got you even quieter than usual? Are you sick? Injured? Cursed?”

“Witchers can’t get sick,” Geralt answers, almost automatically. Jaskier rolls his eyes.

“Your version of sick, then?”

Geralt doesn’t know what his version of sick means so he ignores the comment entirely. Instead he shoves the package in his hands towards the bard and huffs. “I got something for you. I thought you might like to wear it to keep you warm, especially since I wanted… I was wondering if you’d like…”

Geralt growls and spins on his heel, running one shaking hand through his hair as if that might calm him down. It doesn’t.

“Fuck! Why can’t I be like you? Why can’t I just… say all the things I’m thinking? I’m no good with words, Jaskier.”

“I actually don’t say most of the things I think,” Jaskier shrugs. He bites the inside of his lip to keep from talking any more and ruining the moment. This is clearly something the Witcher needs to do on his own, whatever it is. He smiles softly and holds the paper-wrapped lump against his chest. “But I’m happy to wait for as long as you need, dear heart. Figuring out the right thing to say is hard.”

Geralt’s heart is pounding in his chest. Each beat rings out like one of Roach’s shoes against unforgiving cobblestone. He can practically see the sparks flying from it, igniting something in his chest that flares and wavers like a candle flame in the high breeze. He wants to protect the wavering warmth with every ounce of strength he has.

“I… I got you this,” he gestures towards the gift Jaskier has yet to open, “Because it’s cold at Kaer Morhen. The pass is treacherous, difficult for a human who isn’t prepared, so I wanted you to- I mean if you wanted to come with me, I would-”

His fumbling proposal is interrupted by a dull thwump as the package Jaskier was just holding suddenly hits the wooden floorboards. When Geralt looks up, terrified of the incoming rejection, he’s met with two watery blue eyes. Every one of his worst fears is being actualized in front of him and there’s nothing he can do to stop it now.

“Fuck. Shit, I- I’m sorry for asking. I didn’t know if you would eve-”

Geralt is interrupted again, this time by Jaskier throwing his arms around the Witcher’s shoulders and starting to sob. Geralt panics and instinctively reaches to pull Jaskier closer against his chest. He tucks the bard’s face against the side of his neck and cups the back of his neck with one broad palm; his fingers scratch up the base of Jaskier’s scalp and into his soft, tousled locks. With his other arm Geralt holds the bard tightly around the waist, rubbing small circles into the meat of his hip as he waits for Jaskier’s breathing to return to normal.

“Do you not want to come with me to the keep?” he asks, voice low and gravelly but somehow smaller and more frightened than Jaskier has ever heard it sound before. His heart cracks wide open and his love for his grumpy White Wolf comes spilling out like water from a burst dam.

“Of course I want to come to Kaer Morhen,” Jaskier chuckles wetly. Sadly. “I just never thought… I thought you didn’t want me there.”

Geralt considers the words for a moment. He really hasn’t been the most welcoming friend, all things considered. He can understand why Jaskier feels a bit lost and a bit confused. Overwhelmed, his brain supplies. Jaskier is overwhelmed.

He slowly releases Jaskier and steps away.

“Here,” he grins, kneeling and offering the package back up to the bard, who accepts it slowly. Now those bright blue eyes are shining with a different emotion, and Geralt envies the mages who can read other peoples’ minds. “Open it.”

Jaskier slowly unties the blue string and pulls two or three layers of plain brown paper aside to reveal a cardinal-red woolen cloak. A cloak that Geralt has bought for him. The hood and the hem are just the right size and shape for the season. The shade of red Geralt has chosen really brings out the pink undertones of Jaskier’s skin and the darker flecks of blue in his eyes. Jaskier knows that this cloak’s design is haute couture and probably cost the Witcher a great deal of coin. “Oh… Oh, my sweet, darling Geralt.”

Hearing his name said like that, with such affection and gentle reverence, throws the Witcher into another frenzy of emotion. He can barely stand it. His fists clench at his sides. It takes Herculean effort not to sweep the bard off his feet and spin him through the air, peppering him with excited, happy kisses. Jaskier is coming to Kaer Morhen with him! Jaskier is coming home with him!

“Geralt?”

“Jaskier,” the Witcher whispers, taking one slow step and closing the distance between them. The bard does not flinch. He does not move away. He does not step back. “Jaskier, if you don’t mind, I’d like to kiss you very badly.”

“Of course,” the bard breathes, his hand floating up to rest against the warm, stubbled skin of Geralt’s cheek, “I’ve been waiting so long…”

When their lips finally meet, time stops. There is only the warmth of their skin where it’s touching and the soft, gentle desperation of two people trying to prove, for once and for all, that they love each other. When they pause for air Jaskier pulls away a fraction. “Let’s go sit by the fire and chat, shall we?”

“Hmm.”

Geralt settles himself before the fire and pulls Jaskier down onto his lap, arranging him until they’re both comfortable. “Will your family mind my coming with you?”

“They’re expecting you. Actually, they demanded your presence this year. Lambert actually threatened me with bodily harm.”

“Did they, now?”

“Aye. Eskel said he’d find you and bring you back himself if I was too cowardly to buck up like a real Witcher and tell you that I-”

He cut himself off with a blush.

“That you what?”

“That I love you.”

“Well that’s good news,” Jaskier giggles, “And quite the relief considering I’ve been head over heels in love with you for years, now. A decade at least!”

“Y-you…?”

“Me, indeed.”

“I’m glad we’ll all get to hear your wonderful stories this winter,” Geralt nuzzles down against the side of his neck and sends Jaskier into another fit of giggles. “And songs.”

“Do you like it when I sing?”

“I like it best when you make up little songs as we travel,” Geralt admits. “They’re sweet... and I feel like- like they’re just for me.”

Jaskier lights up brighter than a well-cast Igni and settles himself into the Witcher’s tender embrace entirely. He begins to hum to himself and then slowly, in a way that always leaves Geralt impressed and entranced, words begin to form into verse:

“Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, Big grumpy Witchers that have me quite smitten, Brown paper packages tied up with strings; These are a few of my favorite things.”

Geralt presses a kiss to Jaskier’s temple and hides his blush in the bard’s warm neck.

“Hair soft as silk that went white in the Trials, Arms that can hold me and heft me for miles, Eyes of warm amber I search for in Spring, These are a few of my favorite things.”

The Witcher swears he can’t fall any more in love. It has to be impossible; but then Jaskier’s voice gets even softer and the words are sung so close to his ear that it makes him shiver.

“When the wolf bites, When the bee stings, When I'm feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things, And then I don't feel so bad!”

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kalee60 · 3 years

Note

Kalee. Kal. Hi. Hello.

So I recently got a Tiktok because all the kids these days are doing it and my sister keeps sending me videos 🤦🏼‍♀️🙄 I know.

Anyways

There’s apparently this challenge.

Kalee.

It’s a kiss your best friend challenge.

And all I can think is:

Steve and Bucky.

It could be canon verse. It could be an au.

But like imagine. If you haven’t seen the videos it’s super cute but also cringy because like what if it doesn’t go over well, it would be awkwardddd! They basically just film themselves hangout with their best friend and then try to kiss them and see if they’ve secretly been pining too.

Imagine.

Claire - my gorgeous pocket rocket from the Big Apple 🍎

This ask (that you sent eons ago) could not just be answered with a simple - 'omg, yes - I know right - it's the perfect Stucky scenario - someone should write it'... Because well - I guess somehow it turned out that I could write a little something...

I hope you enjoy this, because without your cheerleading, your throwing of pom poms and generally screaming at me in comments and on here - well writing wouldn't be half as much fun.

So for you Claire - enjoy this little story of two boys, a kiss in the making and a TikTok account 😘

~*~*~*~*~

Nerves rode Bucky as he placed his phone down into the perfect position; camera at the ready, not pressing record yet - but waiting for the signal. Steve was doing the exact same with his phone, only from a slightly different angle, setting it up for their parkour trick - something they were going to post to TikTok later. But although Steve was under the impression he was about to perform a flip off Bucky’s shoulders to grab hold of a tree branch then scale the fifteen foot wall beside it - Bucky had other ideas.

He’d seen a new TikTok challenge that week, it was plastered all over the platform and filled his suggested videos, and since the first time he’d watched one, then devoured another fifty straight away, he’d secretly wanted to do it. Wanted to throw all caution to the wind and seize the moment.

Today was that day.

Bucky Barnes was going to kiss Stevie Rogers right on the lips. His best friend since middle school, the boy, now man that he’d secretly loved for over a decade - and although Bucky could have thought of a million different ways to show Steve how he felt - he’d just never had the courage. At least if the video bombed, he could still put it up as a laugh and hopefully Steve would see the joke and it wouldn’t ruin their friendship - hopefully.

So Bucky waited for Steve to finish fiddling with his phone and camera positioning, which was taking him longer than usual to set up, trying to not let the butterflies in his gut take over.

Steve finally looked up, face flushed red like he’d already performed the stunt and Bucky was struck dumb, staring at how beautiful Steve was in the afternoon sunlight. He became lost in the way the shadows from the trees created patterns across Steve’s tightly toned body, the slight wind whispering to Bucky to take his chance, to not mess it up. And Steve stood before him like a golden god, nervously splaying his fingers, cracking his knuckles while staring back at Bucky with an unreadable expression on his face. Was he worried about their trick?

“You okay, Pal?” Bucky asked, his voice faltering with the knowledge he was about to change everything - or nothing.

Steve nodded, eyes wide and bright, darting over Bucky’s face, and Bucky took a moment to bask at being in Steve’s full attention.

“Yep,” Steve popped the ‘p’ and ran a hand through his hair, blonde strands sticking up comically, but Bucky didn’t laugh, he’d never seen someone as breathtaking as Steve did in that moment.

Steve was Bucky’s true north, a steady and unrelenting force at his side - but it went both ways. They’d been through family deaths, relationship fallouts, fights and everything in between, but the one thing that was always unbroken - was they were in it together. No matter what life threw at them, Steve and Bucky were as solid as rock. Unshakable.

And Bucky was probably about to screw it all up.

They closed in on each other, coming to a standstill until only a foot separated them; Steve’s huge blue eyes darted quickly between Bucky’s; there was something different about the look, intense, and Bucky wondered if his own nerves were obvious and Steve was suddenly unsure about the acrobatic feat they were attempting.

“You still want to do this? Haven’t changed your mind?” Bucky asked to make sure, and was surprised when Steve licked his lips and shook his head emphatically.

“No, I’m sure - more sure than I’ve ever been about anything.”

Bucky smiled, Steve being dramatic about their parkour tricks was not unusual, but the way Steve’s cheek twitched and how his foot tapped on the ground was not normal behaviour. And Bucky couldn’t help but start to worry that his idea to surprise-kiss Steve wasn’t the greatest one, wasn’t something he should be trying, as it seemed Steve was janky - wound up.

“Alright, Stevie. If you’re sure.”

Resolve filled Steve’s features as they both turned on their cameras, and once set up, Steve took an almost hesitant step forward.

Bucky held his breath.

It was the moment of truth.

They’d practised the trick so many times, had to start toe to toe for it to work, Steve pushing off Bucky to sprint to the wall, running vertically up the side of it, to twist around and jump off Bucky’s shoulders and flip onto the tree branch, shoving off it then using his momentum to run up the rest of the wall. Finally gripping the lip and climbing over it.

They’d gone over it at least thirty times.

No injuries as of yet.

But this time, just as Steve pressed forward, Bucky yanked him in - at the exact same time as Steve flew forward, completely catching Bucky off guard as he was heading in the wrong direction than expected, he was moving towards Bucky instead of pushing away - and their heads slammed together with a loud thud.

And instead of taking the defeat of the moment graciously, Bucky was in too deep, had waited too long, had it all planned out - and so as Steve rubbed his forehead looking as mortified at what had transpired as Bucky, Bucky once again leant forward. Only to find Steve pitching towards him too, and for the second time in less than three seconds their skulls cracked against the other.

“- holy shit, Barnes. Are you going to let me kiss you or not?”

“- Steve you fucking menace, I’m trying to kiss you!”

The silence was deafening as their words mingled together and wide ocean blue eyes met stormy silt infused grey-blue ones in shock.

“- what did you…?”

“- did you just...?”

Once again talking at the same time, they both trailed off, and the words started to sink into Bucky’s fried brain. Steve was trying to kiss him. Him.

Slack jawed, he could only stare at Steve whose expression mimicked his own, clearly having come to the same realisation about Bucky. He managed to swallow the obscenely thick lump in his throat and with a small tremor in his hand, reached up to place it on Steve’s forehead where a red mark was forming - rubbing the spot gently with his thumb. Steve’s eyes softened and his shoulders relaxed.

With the last tendrils of fear slipping away, Bucky trailed his fingers down the side of Steve’s face before reaching behind his head, gripping the base of Steve’s neck. Then stopped.

Steve’s breathing laboured, coming in sharp and Bucky tightened his grip, loving the way Steve’s eyes fluttered half shut before they opened again, trying not to lose contact with Bucky’s.

Steve was stunning, so responsive and Bucky licked his lips, loving how Steve’s attention snagged on his mouth immediately.

“Can I?” Bucky husked, and Steve nodded jerkily when Bucky’s fingers played with the silky strands of Steve’s hair as he leant in.

The first meeting of their lips lacked the pain of slammed heads and teeth - but it was perfect in every way. Steve’s lips were plush, soft and pliant under Buckys as Bucky took control of the kiss, pressing forward into Steve’s heat. Bucky’s other hand came up to cup Steve’s face tenderly, unable to express how it felt to be kissing his lifelong friend after so many years of yearning for it, Bucky almost at the point where he thought it could never happen. The fact Steve kissed him back - enthusiastically, made his heart thump louder and harder until it was all he could hear in his mind.

After a moment, Bucky pulled away, resting his forehead on Steve’s, mindful of the tender place they’d cracked heads minutes earlier, and couldn’t stop the rasped laugh that escaped.

“You laughing at the way I kiss, Barnes?” Steve sassed with a smile in his voice.

Bucky chuckled, “no, not at all.” He paused a second to gather his thoughts, “I just can’t believe I set this up to kiss you on camera for TikTok, so damn nervous the whole time you’d freak out and punch me - and you were doing the exact same thing.”

Steve grinned and pulled away enough so that he could stare into Bucky’s eyes, the emotion shining from his beautifully clear expression stole the breath from Bucky’s lungs.

“How long?” Steve asked with a whisper. And Bucky wanted to lie, to tell him it wasn’t long, that he’d only just realised if only to stop himself looking too much like a sap.

He didn’t lie.

“The day you punched Deon Franklin when he asked me for a tongue kiss while calling me those terrible names.”

Steve’s stunned look spoke volumes, “Bucky. We were sixteen.”

“And…?” Bucky winced at Steve’s incredulous tone.

Suddenly Steve laughed hysterically, and Bucky started to back up, but before he got too far, Steve grabbed his biceps stopping him in his tracks. “Oh no you dont. You do know why I punched him right?”

“Because he was a dick?”

“Well apart from that.” Steve said wryly and took a deep breath, letting Bucky go. “It’s because he upset you. And I was desperate for your attention - wanted that kiss he so crudely demanded as a joke.”

“What…” Bucky stammered out, “You wanted me back then too?”

Steve smiled indulgently at him. “You didn’t think I stuck around just for your personality did you?”

Bucky roared with laughter, elated at the turn of events and grabbed Steve, slamming their mouths together, and soon the kiss morphed from chaste and exploratory to something meaner, something heavier. Pushing Steve up against the tree, the small noise from Steve’s throat as the bark dug into his skin set something feral off in Bucky and he kissed deeper, shoving his tongue further until both of them struggled for air.

A loud beeping infiltrated Bucky’s hearing and he reluctantly pulled away, adoring the slack jawed and glazed look in Steve’s eyes way too much. Wanting Steve to look up at him with that exact same expression but with a lot less clothing and a lot more privacy in place.

“Want to do the trick still?” Bucky questioned as he walked over and grabbed his phone to stop the alert that he was running out of video. When Steve didn’t answer he looked back over his shoulder and almost dropped his phone.

Steve was leaning limp against the tree, clearly half hard and staring after Bucky like he’d just gifted him the world. When in actual fact, it was Steve who’d done that for him.

Bucky stalked back over, gripping Steve’s chin, kissing him soundly one more time, and Steve immediately went pliant under his touch, oh boy, they were going to have so much fun.

“How about instead, we go back to mine and see what other tricks we can come up with?”

Steve’s breathing came in faster and harder and a broken ‘yes’ worked its way out of his throat, Bucky catching the word in his mouth as he kissed Steve again.

Bucky smirked as he pulled away, helping Steve stand upright.

“But, only on the condition that we tape it.” Steve said in a voice deep and rich, and Bucky was suddenly on the back foot when Steve smiled deliciously at him, eyes full of dirty promises.

Dry mouthed and vibrating from anticipation, Bucky followed Steve to his car, walking in a slight daze at what had transpired in only twenty minutes.

And all Bucky was certain of, was that although his TikTok kiss hadn’t gone to plan - everything else would fall into place.

Just the way it was meant to.

#Claire - this is all your fault - look what you made me do!!#stucky #Steve x Bucky #friends to lovers #tiktok challenge drabble/fic #mutual pining #mywriting #something silly #Claire i love you ❤️#i have the most amazing friends who inspire me to write this fluffy crap 🥰#kalee answers

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foilfreak · 3 years

Text

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 3

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(Link to ao3 version in comments below)

“Going off the information I have listed here, it appears as though you’ll be receiving subject N-45, today. She’s a healthy 22 year old female. Her short, but muscular body weighs 95lbs with a childish height of 4’10” tall. She possesses primarily Romanian and Filipino ancestry, with some Dutch or Finnish or... whatever, thrown in there as well. And according to the various items we found on her person when she was first brought in, she’s apparently a graduate student at the University of Bucharest, or, at least she was, before she drove her car into a tree while driving up the mountain and was recovered by Heisenberg” Miranda explains robotically, reading aloud from a piece of paper held inside a thick manila envelope. “Of the 4 remaining test subjects, N-45 is easily the most violent and difficult one to work with, having to be either anesthetized or restrained every time I wanted to so much as take her vitals or stabilize her condition. When given smaller doses of sedatives she-”

For the first time in his entire life, Salvatore completely ignores whatever unimportant nonsense Mother Miranda is going on about, continuing to take in and analyze the strikingly unique appearance of the young woman before him.

Upon first inspection, N-45 appeared to resemble that of a normal woman in just about every way possible. Her hair was scruffy and very short, barely long enough to reach her eyes, and a deep black color that looked so soft and luxurious that Salvatore ached to run his fingers through it. Her face was slightly round, giving the young woman a very youthful appearance, with her sharp jawline and prominent cheekbones being some of the only things keeping Salvatore from mistaking her for a child. And lastly, her... figure, if Salvatore had to put such an embarrassing idea into words, was similar to that of Mother Miranda, only shorter, more compact even. It reminded the hooded man of those small packets of candy Duke occasionally gifted him that said “fun sized” on the label, in reference to them being much smaller than the standard sized candy bars and yet somehow being… better, despite technically giving you less candy.

She was already perfect as she was, but it was not just N-45’s beautiful human features that pulled Salvatore in and refused to let him escape the stupefaction he’d been placed under, but also her mutations.

A soft royal blue coated her from head to toe, giving way only to a large patch of solid white located on her chest and stomach. Her skin catches the light in a way that reveals areas of tiny overlapping scales, glimmering like stars in the midnight sky, or freshly polished armor, perhaps, along the bony ridges and tender curves of her figure.

Small white dots distributed like paint splatters across the colored sections of her flesh give a similar visual effect as freckles, starting from her hairline and extending all the way down to the very tips of her toes. These galaxies of white were invisible only on the white patch along the front of her torso, as well as on the lighter blue hue taken on by both the palms and webbings of her hands and feet.

Long Fin-like extensions grew along both her forearms and lower back. The former extended outward and inward like a windshield wiper, likely used to decrease water resistance. The latter, however, perhaps used to increase fine motor maneuverability while swimming at greater speeds or in tighter spaces, grew straight downwards from her lower back in an overlapping fan configuration that marginally covered her rear end, though not by very much. The fins looked like a soft, delicate material that was probably very flexible but very durable, if Salvatore had to guess just from looking.

And to top everything off, N-45 even appeared to even have gills, 2 different sets by the looks of it. The first set of 3 breathing slits was located horizontally along both sides of her neck, while the second set could be found on both sides of her torso, following the downward angle of her ribs but stopping just underneath her soft, plump-looking breasts.

Salvatore feels a sudden wave of heat cascade over his body and he turns his face away in shameful embarrassment as he suddenly realizes that N-45, much like every test subject undergoing cadou treatment, was still very, very nude at the present moment.

“I can’t make any promises regarding her disposition, but physically speaking, she’s ready to be released to you whenever you’d like. I’ll have some of the villagers transport and release her into the reservoir later this week” Mother Miranda says, pressing a button to close the pod now that Salvatore was no longer staring at her.

“W-wait just a m-moment” Salvatore calls out, prompting Mother Miranda to halt the closing of the pod.

“Yes? What is it?” The woman asks curtly, clearly not wanting to stand here and watch Salvatore any longer than she has to.

Wringing his hands together nervously, Salvatore meekly asks, “C-could… could y-you wake h-her up… s-so that I can s-speak with her… j-just for a m-moment?”

Mother Miranda remains silent for a moment, blank face staring directly at Salvatore as she contemplates what to do.

“No, Moreau,” she says finally. “I’ve had a very busy day today and I'm quite tired. N-45 is a menace that I struggle to deal with even on my best days. The last thing I need is something going wrong and her getting out and causing all sorts of chaos.”

Salvatore’s shoulders slump in disappointment, but he makes no further attempts to argue.

Mother Miranda rolls her eyes at the incredibly childish display, walking over to place a gentle hand on Salvatore’s head. “Would it make you feel better if I agreed to have N-45 be the first of the subjects to be dropped off? It’ll be more difficult than my original plan, but I suppose it was a bit unfair that you were the only one who didn’t get to “pick” their gift.”

“Yes, M-Mother Miranda… I-I’d like th-that very… very m-much” Salvatore says, leaning into the touch as Mother Miranda begins guiding him back toward the hallway leading to the exit door.

It wasn’t until after Miranda had exited the lab and begun walking down the long hallway toward the exit that Salvatore dared cast another glance back at the pod that contained N-45, wistfully thinking of how amazing her hand had felt in his, and how much he wanted to speak to her.

Just as the disfigured man was about to turn back and follow Miranda out of the laboratory, a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, prompting Salvatore to tense and snap toward the 4 pods, frantically trying to figure out what it was he saw. A few seconds of stillness pass before Salvatore sees movement again, not freely moving about the room like he originally expected, but from within one of the 4 pods, his pod to be exact.

His curiosity momentarily outweighing his nerves, Salvatore slowly approaches the metal capsule, trying to get a look through the small pane of glass that allows visual access into the holding pod.

Another flash of movement has Salvatore flinching, jumping back as though he’d been advanced upon. After several seconds of stillness, however, the hooded man regains his confidence and once again inches his way toward the capsule, moving his head up and down to try and get one more glimpse at N-45 before he has to leave. One last look before she lays eyes upon his vile and disgusting body for the first time, screaming and calling him a monster as she runs away, leaving him alone and without anyone to call his own. Just like always.

“ Hello ?”

Salvatore froze dead in his tracks, his heart pounding and his lungs refusing to take in air, as a soft, muffled, questioning voice reaches the deformed man’s ears, followed by two golden orbs with narrow black slits running vertically through the center, that slowly peek into view from the bottom of the glass window. Salvatore’s eyes widen in shock as he quickly realizes that the orbs of gold are not, in fact, just spheres of color, but rather a pair of eyes, staring intently at him from inside the pod.

“Uuuuuh… u-u-uuum… I-i… I w-was just…” the disfigured man stuttered as he struggled to move his body, seemingly paralyzed by the bewitching gaze currently locked onto him, looking at him with an intensity that makes Salvatore wonder if this is what it feels like to be a cell put under a microscope.

It isn’t until Salvatore notices the golden orbs moving and shifting from one corner of the window pane to the other that the hooded man realizes, to his immediate horror, that he might not be the only one trying to get a better look at the figure located on the other side of the pod door. Panic and fear immediately fill Salvatore from deep within, growing strong enough to allow him to finally overcome his temporary paralysis and skitter away from view. Pulling his hood even further over his petrifyingly grotesque face in shame of himself, Salvatore flees the laboratory as quickly as his hobbled limp would allow.

His heart pounds to the beat of the soft, but desperate pleas of protest coming from N-45’s pod in response to Salvatore’s rapidly retreating form, yet the hooded man cannot bring himself to believe what he hears as true. Perhaps believing that the siren-like voice he hears echoing off the metal laboratory walls to be nothing more than a trick of his sick and lonely mind, Salvatore does not stop, nor does he turn back around until he’s met up with Mother Miranda at the exit to the surface, lungs burning and legs aching from running for so far and long.

“Oh, there you are, Moreau,” Mother Miranda says suddenly, stopping just before they are about to exit the laboratory. “I’m glad you chose this time to finally catch up, because I just realized a second ago that I’d forgotten to give you N-45’s previous name. You can name her something else if you’d prefer, of course, but I offered the information to your siblings so I suppose I should offer it to you as well. Would you still like to know N-45’s name, or would you rather abandon her given name for one of your own choosing?”

After a few seconds of silent contemplation, Salvatore lifts his head, “I… I-i would like to k-know… her n-name… please...” the mutant man says softly.

Mother Miranda briefly raises a questioning eyebrow at Salvatore’s nervous body language, but ultimately rolls her eyes and shrugs her shoulders, all but tossing the Manila envelope containing N-45’s information at the hooded man before disappearing out the large metal door.

“If you’re going to read that now, feel free, but return to the meeting room once you're done. And be sure to lock the door to my laboratory behind you” Miranda commands, her voice having grown echoey due to how far away she now was.

“Yes, M-Mother” Salvatore calls after her as he scrambles to catch the thrown file and prevent any loose papers from falling out. Once he’s got a solid handle on the thick envelope, he opens it, casting a quick glance back in the direction of the pod room, where Nadine and the other 3 gifts were being held for the time being.

Returning to the file, Salvatore frantically flips through every page, trying to find the one that held N-45’s personal background information.

After several minutes of desperate flipping back and forth, Salvatore finally focuses on one particular piece of paper that looked to have been in the file for the longest. Pulling out the particular page he’d found, the disfigured man drops the rest of the folder onto the ground and begins rapidly skimming through the information printed on the page, his hungry eyes refusing to stop until they finally zeroed in on the information he’d been looking for.

Project: E.V.A. Resurrection

Subject: N-45

Parasite Administered: Cadou (Series- N; Strain- 45)

Family Name: Bogdan

Given Name: Nadine

“N… Nadine” Salvatore said slowly, feeling slightly lightheaded and out of breath as each individual letter of the young woman’s name rolled off his tongue like Camembert cheese; smooth, creamy, decedent, and likely to keep him up all night with an upset stomach and a racing heartbeat.

Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine.

The name quickly became a broken loop played over and over and over again inside Salvatore’s head, his mind unable, or rather unwilling, to think of anything else as he read, reread, and then re-reread Nadine’s name at least 100 times, before finally setting the piece of paper down.

“Nadine...” Salvatore breathes the name once again, his voice carrying a wistful tone. “E-even your n-name is wonderful...”

An already beautiful woman, made even more perfect through the power of science and Mother Miranda’s grace, only for all that potential to end up wasted in the hands of a desperately lonely and horrifically mangled fish mutant, who was more likely to accidentally dissolve her in stomach acid than woo her like some kind of aquatic Prince Charming.

“Y-ya right... e-e-even with a-another mutant… I’m s-still so disgusting a-an… and horrifying in comparison… n-not even my o-own kind can b-bring thems-themselves to love me f-for who I a-am… not th-that there’s much of m-me that’s worth l-loving to begin w-with” Moreau laments to himself, wondering if it was even worth holding out hope that things with Nadine could go his way. As if one look at his monstrous form wouldn’t be enough to ruin everything Salvatore already has an agonizingly low chance of ever having with that magnificent specimen of a woman.

Even with Nadine’s own external mutations making it clear that she was no longer fully human, her form had still retained such a beautifully strong, yet womanly shape to it, and her face still looked so young and innocent despite everything that she’s been through. Someone as beautiful as her was far too good and pure to be tainted by his filthy hands.

‘Maybe I should just kill her when the villagers arrive with her at the gate? At least then... I could say I put her out of her misery before she had to experience it for herself…’ Salvatore sulks mentally.

However, despite the self degrading thoughts running through his mind, the memory of the curious look Nadine’s shockingly bright and mesmerizing golden eyes held when trying to look at Salvatore through the pod window made the hooded man shiver, having never been looked upon in such an innocently curious manner before. Most people who got that close to Salvatore didn’t even need to see his face in order to start screaming and running away in terror. However, if the deformed man allowed himself a brief moment to believe that it was indeed her who’d been calling him to come back and show himself, then from the tone and rushed quality of her voice, it would seem as though Nadine was unsatisfied with the fact that she hadn’t seen all of Salvatore’s face and body, not terrified.

How strange...

How very strange indeed…

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