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sl-ut · 1 month ago

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i like it better

was gonna wait to post this but i decided to go ahead with it in honour of me graduating with my bachelor’s degree (first gen. university grad!!!) yesterday and starting my new job today!!! i watched thunderbolts* last week and i loved it and i love bob even more.

pairing: robert “bob” reynolds x fem!enhanced!reader

description: every member of the thunderbolts* are struggling with having friends for the first time in… ever, for the most part. the team is shocked to find out that, for some reason, bob is having the easiest time with it. aka, four times the team notices a budding romance, and one time they all realize they’re late to the conclusion.

warnings: SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR THUNDERBOLTS* but not crazy so read at your own risk, reader DOES have a backstory but it’s not detailed in this (i’m considering making this a non-chronological or plot-based series about this pairing i love them smmmm pls lmk if i would be wasting my time or not lol), golden retriever x black cat vibes, slight age gap (r is early-mid 20s, i assume bob is supposed to be late 20s maybe early 30s?), reader has similar powers to wanda–lightly detailed in this fic, swearing, mentions of past addictions and substance use, reader has BEEF w john walker and everyone loves it, READER REFERRED TO BY CODENAME PANDORA

words: 6.4K

date posted: 16/5/25

Despite all of their differences, the Avengers had been able to establish a certain level of respect and friendliness amongst one another–Bucky wasn’t sure of how they had been able to do it. From what he’d heard and experienced, Steve and Tony had butt heads with one another more times than they could count, and that’s saying a lot considering that one of them was a self-proclaimed genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist. Clint seemed to be a wild card, not often around enough to be on anyone’s permanent bad side, while Natasha was notoriously good at playing both sides with every member of the team. Bucky Barnes was certain that he would not have lasted more than a week with that crew before they were tearing each other apart, which was quite evident in the way that the team quite literally tore themselves apart when he came into the picture, but somehow, some way, a group of assassins, super soldiers, and gods were able to find some sort of commonality for the sake of team morale, so why couldn’t he do the same with this team?

He inarguably had more in common with this group than Steve had with the others. He, Yelena, and Alexei were highly trained assassins; he and John both super soldiers who, at one point, worked for the U.S. government; he and Ava were both the results of some lab experiments thanks to SHIELD aka HYDRA and both had a tendency to stick to themselves; he and Bob–well, he wasn’t sure that he had anything in common with Bob aside from the crippling mental illness that accompanied a not entirely consensual superhero lifestyle. However, there was one final member of the team that he had more in common with than any of the rest, and she was the one he found the most difficult to break through to.

The girl had been saved from a HYDRA base not too long after the Battle of Sokovia, where she’d been held hostage and used as a lab experiment for the vast majority of her life. She was only a kid then, barely old enough to have a valid driver's license, but Steve had taken her under his protection just as he had done with Bucky. Her powers had been unstable, a failed attempt to recreate the exact abilities of Wanda Maximoff without the use of the mind stone, but when Steve, Nat, and Bucky had been forced to go on the run, Shuri was able to create some sort of blockers for her mind, to isolate her abilities from use so she no longer had to fear losing control. Now, here he was over five years later, compact onto a superhero team with her, though she no longer the tortured child he had once promised his best friend that he would protect, and he wasn’t entirely certain as to how she had regained her powers, but she had grown to have a steely wall between herself and the other New Avengers, as they had been deemed, especially with him.

On one hand, he could understand that the girl had been traumatized, much like he had, but instead having no fond childhood memories to look back on except for the few months that she had been able to stay at the Avengers Compound with Steve. But on the other hand, he was growing increasingly frustrated with the attitude that she had developed–snarky, bratty, and bold; the teenage phase that she’d been denied of now surfacing during her twenties. She could be unpredictable, either making her presence known through witty comments or ignoring any of their existences, which made it especially stange to Bucky when he began to pick up on certain tendencies she had when it came to Bob.

If Bucky were asked to describe Bob in three words, they would be um, uh, and nice. Bob was the nicest of the group, though that was no great feat when you considered exactly what sort of people had been assembled into the team, but Bucky knew relatively little about him. He was the most dangerous of them all without question, but still for whatever reason had settled into the role as a walking punching bag with little fight. He was awkward, easily embarrassed, an easy target for the others to pick at when he did something wrong. When they had all initially moved into the tower, he was the only one who had made much of an effort to befriend anyone, but he could never seem to hold eye contact with the fiery young woman in fear of taking a verbal lashing, like the others often did, and yet he never did.

In fact, while he made an effort to avoid being in her path, she more often than not diverted it so that he was her final destination. On an empty floor of the tower where she could isolate herself just about anywhere, as she normally would choose to do, she would seek out wherever he was and silently join him in whatever he was doing.

The first time Bucky noticed it, he was returning from the gym. He’d sent a nod in Bob’s direction as he stepped out of the elevator, then halted in his tracks as his gaze shot back to the scene before him; she was curled up on one end of the couch, legs tucked beneath her as her eyes scanned the pages of the novel in her lap, meanwhile Bob had taken up the space at the other end of the couch, sitting so stiff that Bucky wondered if the girl had held him at gunpoint just before Bucky entered the room. She didn’t even spare the super soldier a glance, only turning the page as he sent a questioning look to the shaggy-haired man, whose eyes widened even further in an effort to convey his own uncertainty with her presence.

Bucky moved on, stepping into the kitchen just across the room to find himself something to snack on, making sure to keep a close eye on the girl–he wasn’t sure whether or not he should start planning Bob’s funeral.

Bob finally broke the awkward silence, stunning the man in the kitchen. Bob had relatively stuck to the practice of speaking when spoken to, but Bucky was certain that he’d never seen Bob speak to her since moving into the tower.

“I can put something else on, if you want,” he smiled awkwardly at her, eyes flickering between her and the screen, “I’m not really watching it anyways.”

“Don’t be stupid, Bob,” she said as she glanced up at him, and Bucky was certain he saw the slightest curve of her lips as she met Bob’s gaze, “you’re like halfway through. I like this one, anyway.”

Bucky’s eyes moved to the flatscreen on the wall, across from where they were seated, brow furrowing in confusion as his thoughts tumbled through his lips before he could truly process them, “You told me you hated this movie when I watched it last week.”

Her gaze turned to him, sharpening as she narrowed her eyes, “Maybe I just hate when you watch it.”

Bob’s face flushed red as she turned back to her book without another word, awkwardly sipping on his glass of pop as Bucky frowned. He shook his head at the young woman, having learned to let her words roll off his back rather than letting them fester, snatching the first thing he found in the fridge and fleeing the scene, praying that Bob did not ruin whatever sort of good mood he’d put her in so that this wouldn’t be the last time he saw him.

***

Alexei was the kind of guy that people either loved or hated. He could be loud, obnoxious, sometimes even straight up belligerent, and had possibly the worst ability to read the room that anyone had ever seen. However, he was the most outwardly friendly member of the team, oftentimes being the leading force behind any group activities. He was still a target of the young woman, of course, but rather than taking it as a personal offense, as he mocked Bucky and John for doing, he found some enjoyment in the girl’s taunting. Any time one of her digs was sent his way, she was met with boisterous laughter and usually some sort of unnecessary physical contact.

He understood very little when it came to the lives of young women, but he was a girl dad at heart. She somewhat reminded him of his Natasha when she was a young girl–which made more sense to him when he discovered that she had been taken in by the late Black Widow and her teammates before the blip. He found himself flocking to her more than any of the others–save for Yelena, of course, claiming that he had no interest in training with anyone but the strongest of the New Avengers.

He came to understand the regular routines of the others who lived in the tower, especially when it came to who was going to be in the training facility and when. He liked that she tended to go later in the morning, allowing him to sleep in later than if he were looking to spar with any of the others, usually sauntering in with a loud greeting, jokingly challenging her to a spar that he would inevitably lose. The Red Guardian was a force to be reckoned with, but no amount of serum could fight off this sort of power. Truthfully, he would have hoped to take on Sentry again, but Bob and the others had been very adamant that Sentry was not to be brought back until they found a way for Bob to better control his abilities, and the young woman was the next best thing.

Sparring usually ended with the large Russian knocked on his ass, barely having landed a single swing at his opponent as she stood on the opposite end of the mat, barely a drop of sweat on her brow and the only sign of fatigue having been a result of using her powers. Though, as they returned to the main common area afterwards, Alexei would always announce to the others that he had been bested, but it had been a well-fought match.

“I almost had her,” He grinned as he took a long drink out of the liquor bottle he’d conjured up out of seemingly nowhere, “next time I win, you will see.”

“I’m sure,” the girl droned, turning to where Ava sat at the dining table, “where’s Bob?”

Ava shrugged, raising a brow curiously, “Haven’t seen him. Why?”

“I told him we would go get bagels.”

“I would love to get bagels,” Alexei rose back up to his feet, “I will join.”

“No you won’t,” The girl turned sharply on her heel, “I think you could have better things to do than bother me all day.”

The Guardian, undeterred by her words, chuckled joyously, “Of course, of course. Bring me blueberry.”

As if he had sensed that she had been looking for him, Bob appeared in the doorway of the common area, eyes flickering between Alexei and Ava with a breathy hi before he turned his attention to the woman standing with her arms crossed. His face flushed under her intimidating stare as he began to wring his fingers in front of him nervously.

“Hi,” he breathed.

“Hi,” she echoed back to him, “I was just looking for you.”

If possible, he blushed even more, the pink tint of his cheeks deepening into a burnt shade of red, “Oh, uh, you were?”

Ava tilted her head curiously at his reaction, not entirely sure if Bob was nervous or petrified at her words, though she wouldn’t blame him for either.

“Yeah,” she rolled her eyes, “You still want a bagel or what?”

Relief streaked across his face as he realized why the girl had been looking for him, “Oh, yeah, yeah. Whenever you’re ready.”

She nodded, pushing past his figure in the doorway, “Good, I’m starving. Let me grab my coat.”

The moment she was out of earshot, or so he assumed, Alexei called out to Bob to grab his attention, “Psst, Bob. Bring me bagel. Blueberry.”

Bob smiled awkwardly before he nodded, jumping as the girl appeared beside him once more, now bundled in a soft brown coat, taking his hand in her own as she all but dragged him towards the elevator without another glance to the others. Bob turned quickly to offer a bashful wave to his teammates before they disappeared around the corner.

Ava huffed as they left her sight, “Now what was that about?”

Alexei looked at her with his brow furrowed, crossing his thick arms over his chest, “What? I wanted bagel.”

***

Contrary to Bucky’s belief, the young woman actually did consider some of her teammates to be her friends. While her words were often interpreted as nasty insults that were better left ignored, something that she was more apt to respect was the way that Yelena and Ava were able to give it back to her. It was a respect that they earned from her, and she them, leading to a friendship based on past traumatic experiences and forced proximity. When she wasn’t revelling in her loneliness, she was usually in the company of one of the two older women–or her most recent choice of companion, but even then, it did not mean she had given up her frequent enjoyment of alone time.

Yelena was an early riser, often having slept barely two hours the night before. The three women had spent the last week on an assignment, only returning an hour earlier. The plane made for a rough sleep, though the black eye that Yelena was sporting certainly didn’t help.

She entered the kitchen, finding Ava already seated at the dining table as she dug into a plate heaped with an assortment of breakfast foods. The counter was decorated with a few larger plates piled with eggs, bacon, sausages, and toast served up buffet-style. Behind the counter, Bob was muttering to himself as he messed with the new espresso machine that Bucky had ordered.

“Morning,” the Russian sighed, wasting no time in piling her own plate with food. She’d survived on granola bars and beef jerky for the last week, so a hot, home-cooked breakfast was a vision akin to heaven in her eyes, even if it had been made by Bob–he was getting better, but he was no Gordon Ramsay.

He turned to glance over his shoulder, smiling softly at the sight of the blonde, “Oh, hi Yelena. How was the mission?”

“It was okay, boring. Way too easy,” she eyed him curiously as he turned back to the machine, “I thought you didn’t drink coffee, Bob.”

Ava smirked as she spoke through a mouthful of eggs, “It’s for his girlfriend.”

He whirled around at this, eyes wide as a familiar red flush crept up his neck and crawled across his cheeks. His mouth gaped at the two women, seemingly unable to string together the words to defend himself from their taunting stares.

“She’s not–I’m–We–”

“Oh my god,” Yelena laughed, “I had no idea you had it in you, Bob.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“No, but you want her to be,” Ava added. “You love her.”

“Who loves who?” Alexei appeared in the kitchen as well, eyes lighting up at the sight of the prepared spread of food, clapping Bob on the shoulder before loading up his own plate, “Bob, I could kiss you.”

“No one loves no one,” Bob frowned, stammering over his words, “I mean, we–”

“Bob loves Pandora,” Ava said again to Alexei, who made a noise of approval through his mouthful of food.

“Oh, this?” Alexei asked, “This I already know.”

The other third all turned to him in bewilderment, exclamations of surprise leaving their mouths.

“You knew and didn’t tell me?” Yelena asked, a look of betrayal on her face as she launched a piece of toast at her father.

“He doesn’t know anything,” Bob demanded, looking like he could faint at any moment, “she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Whatever you say, Bob,” Yelena chuckled, finally tucking into her food with the exact excitement of someone who hadn’t eaten a hot meal in a week.

Then came the woman in question, floating in through the kitchen like a spirit with her hair wet from the long, hot bath she’d taken upon their return. The others froze, unsure of whether she had heard what they had been talking about prior to her entry. She wore a pair of black leggings, tucked into a pair of long wool socks beneath her favourite pair of slippers, torso hidden beneath a worn grey sweatshirt–one that Bob was able to recognize all too well.

“Morning,” he beamed at her, her presence seemingly soothing the embarrassment he’d been faced with as a result of their acknowledgment of his feelings for her, “I, uh, I made breakfast. And coffee, how you like it.”

The girl peered up at him before reaching for the mug that he had offered in her direction, taking a slow sip before a small smile crawled onto her lips as she thanked him. The others watched as she turned to put together her own breakfast, but their eyes were all trained on the shaggy-haired man, following his own gaze as he observed her silently, mulling over her wet hair, down the slopes of her cheeks while they glistened in the soft morning light from her hydrating skin care routine. Her shoulders, covered in the heavy sweatshirt that he wasn’t even sure of how or when she had taken it out of his closet.

To Bob, she was always the most gorgeous woman on earth, whether she wore her fitted suit or bundled up to combat the bitter nature of New York City, but he always found her the most beautiful when she was home, dressed comfortably and considerably less guarded, where he got to really know her for more than her own trust issues. When she made herself malleable to love, where she allowed him past her guarded walls. Everything that they’d each experienced in the past, all of the trauma that they’d been forced to endure–it was all out in the open and safe, both learning to rely on one another’s presence to feel fully at ease. The only bit his team members were wrong about was about her being his girlfriend–they’d never gotten quite that far, so they had never even made their feelings clear to one another. He wanted more, but he was happy to take things as slow as she needed.

Ava and Yelena exchanged a glance across the table, flickering between the pair as they joined them at the table, Bob finally picking at his own breakfast as he settled into the seat next to her. He seemed content as they both tucked into their food, silently sharing a few glances as the others finally changed the topic of conversation.

Though none of them were ready to let Bob away with this for much longer.

***

John Walker was inarguably the least liked member of the New Avengers, not that he did very much to help with that. He was rude to his teammates, often quite selfish, and quite possibly the most arrogant man in New York City. For someone who boasted about his achievements in the military and as team captain of his high school football team, you might think that he might put some more effort behind his ability to work as a team. After taking on the role of Captain America, however, John quickly learned that he didn’t tend to play well with others.

When he’d first moved into the tower, he had assumed that, having once already housed the former team of Avengers, there would be ample space for the entire team without encroaching on his personal space. While that was generally true, one thing that John couldn’t help but notice was that, particularly at night, his enhanced hearing often picked up any sounds on his floor, mainly from the neighbouring bedroom, which belonged to Bob. This meant that he was subjected to Bob’s insistent pacing, humming, and occasional snoring when he finally fell asleep, but more recently he had noticed a particular increase in talking. He wasn’t able to make out any words or phrases being said, but the muffled sound of his voice was enough to keep him up at night. He had even brought it up to Bob with a lingering concern of him speaking to Sentry at night, as he’d been known to do before, only to be met with a sputtering, blushing mess, claiming to just be sleeptalking.

One night, though, John had had enough. The talking, the giggling, John could not figure out what the hell Bob could possibly have going on to sound so happy at two in the morning, but he was going to put an end to it.

His fist met the door with force, not caring about whether or not he might be waking up any of the others as he impatiently waited for Bob to answer the door, though his anger quickly dissipated into utter confusion as the door swung open to reveal the one person in the world who he actively avoided interacting with.

“Can I help you, Walker?”

He squinted his eyes at her, taking in her appearance as she stood before him in her pyjamas, hair pushed out of her face by a fluffy leopard print headband and her face coated in some slimy green substance, “Uh, yeah. Where’s Bob?”

The door creaked open a little further to reveal the man in question, appearing at her side with a matching green sludge on his face with his own shaggy brown hair pushed away with a similar fluffy blue headband.

He smiled bashfully at the supersoldier at the door, “Oh, hi John. What’s up?”

Walker’s eyes flickered between the pair, brow furrowed in surprise, “If I cared a little more I might ask the same thing. It’s two a.m., can this not wait?”

The girl narrowed her eyes at him, “It can’t actually.”

Bob’s eyes widened in shock at her defiance, “I mean, we’re almost done–”

“No we’re not,” she interrupted him, “we’ve still got five steps left in our skincare routine.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” John asked, his patience wearing impossibly thin, “Could you two just finish braiding each other’s hair and shut up already?”

“And why don’t you go take a nap on the freeway?”

“Woah–hey,” Bob bit back his own laugh at the girl’s words, wanting to both deescalate the building tension and stay on her good side; altercations between these two usually only ended one way, which was John a beating without the young woman having to so much as lift a finger. “We’re almost done, Walker. Hell, we’d probably be done by now if it weren’t for this conversation.”

John looked at Bob in surprise as the girl let out a sharp laugh, equally shocked at his words. Bob could be quite snarky when he wanted to be, but he was also somewhat of a peacemaker among his teammates; these weren’t the type of people where fighting would result in bad blood and arguments, it could end in the destruction of the building and a funeral or two. But, that didn’t mean he was unable to have his own issues with his teammates, and one thing he was truly tired of was taking so much shit from the man who was Captain America for all of two minutes.

“You heard him, Walker,” she smirked up at him victoriously, “beat it. We’ll keep it down, wouldn’t want you to miss out on your precious beauty sleep. Lord knows you need it.”

The door slammed shut, rattling with the force of it as it narrowly missed the tip of his nose. The trek back down the hall felt fuzzy to John as he pondered the interaction he’d just had with the pair, even as he laid in the darkness of his room.

What was she doing in his room at this hour? Since when are they so close? Was Bob wearing a face mask? Why–

What in God’s name are those noises?

***

Valentina had always been a nuisance to the members of the New Avengers, even long before the team even existed. Sure, her involvement in their lives was what had brought them together and helped form a certain bond between them, and had she not done so then there would not have been anyone there to defend New York City from Sentry–though there also wouldn’t be a Sentry if it weren’t for Valentina either. But now that she wasn’t even truly in control of the New Avengers, she still seemed to be keeping one hand on the wheel at all times.

The personalities of the team didn’t match up very well. Most of them were explosive, manipulative, and deeply traumatized, but one thing that Valentina seemed to put extra importance behind was the idea of team bonding time to promote better unity. In truth, she didn’t really care whether the team got along or not, she just wanted to ensure that they were perceived as unified by the public and by potential threats.

Thus brought the team to be sitting in the living room, arranged in a circle around the wooden coffee table with a deck of cards arrayed across the surface. Nothing brought a group of individuals together like a game of Uno, right? Well, when the individuals were specially trained to conspire and betray one another, perhaps that wasn’t the case.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Bucky groaned as the young woman dropped yet another plus four into the centre pile, “there’s no way you’re not cheating. Where are you getting all of these cards?”

“Magic,” she said, shrugging as she took the last swig from her can of Diet Coke.

The Winter Soldier let out a sharp exhale through his nose before reaching out to pluck four more cards from the quickly dwindling deck. Next to him, Yelena barely paid attention to the game as she tossed her own card down, eyes trained on the man across from her as he shifted nervously under her stare. Bob wasn’t entirely sure of why Yelena and Ava had been so aggressively staring him down all evening, but he had a feeling that it had something to do with his feelings for the younger woman sitting next to him, he was only hoping that they wouldn’t be bold enough to bring it up in front of the rest of the team–especially her.

Pandora pushed herself back onto her haunches, fingers curling around the empty can as she glanced over at him, nodding at his nearly empty glass of water, “Want another?”

A small, bashful smile curved onto his lips, nodding graciously as she grabbed his glass and stood to her full height, turning to head towards the kitchen.

“I could use another beer,” John called after her, shaking his empty bottle in her direction.

“Great, the fridge is full of them whenever you’re ready,” she didn’t even spare him a glance over her shoulder as she turned the corner and disappeared out of sight.

Without missing a beat, Yelena leaned forward. For a moment, Bob thought she was about to reach across the table to peek at the missing girl’s abandoned cards that she had set on the table, so he quickly reached out and pressed his hand against the cards to keep them firmly in their place.

Yelena looked at him in confusion for a moment, which quickly developed into an expression of betrayal, “Bob! You thought I was going to cheat? Who do you think I am?”

His eyes widened as he registered the offense in her voice, quickly moving his hand away, “Oh, sorry. It just, I don’t know, looked like you were.”

“I can’t believe you don’t trust me.”

“You told me not to,” he stared blankly at her.

She scowled at him, but waved it off, “Have you done anything yet?”

“Done what?” John inserts himself.

“None of your business,” Ava scolded him before turning back to Bob, “well?”

A bloom of red pinched at Bob’s cheeks as he shook his head, “N-no I haven’t. There’s nothing to do.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Bucky asked, glancing between the two women and Bob.

Bob watched Bucky nervously as Yelena vaguely described the investigation that she and Ava had taken upon themselves to conduct. Regardless of the current state of their relationship, Bucky had known the girl since she was a teenager, and had promised his “late” best friend that he would watch out for her, so he was still considerably protective over her (though anytime he tried to show any sign of this he would have a near encounter with the nearest and heaviest object she could hurl his way).

Bucky’s eyebrows rose in surprise as he turned his gaze to Bob, “You and her? No way.”

Bob furrowed his brow in concern, “I mean, is–I don’t think it’s that outrageous.”

“I wouldn’t believe it either if I hadn’t been hearing them in his room at all hours of the night,” John chimed in, resting his chin on his closed fist as he portrayed his sudden interest in the topic.

“What?” The others all exclaimed in unison, turning frantically from John to Bob, who’s entire face and neck were now burning.

“We were just doing skincare!”

Yelena barked out a laugh while Bucky furrowed his brow impossibly further, lips curling in confusion.

“Come on now, Bobby,” John grinned condescendingly, “you and I both know that’s not true.”

“It is,” Bob demanded, “look, I don’t know what you want me to say but–”

“What’re you guys talking about?” the girl in question asked as she rounded the corner again, resuming her seat on the floor as she placed two fresh glasses of water on the table, one in front of Bob and one for herself.

The New Avengers all shared an uncertain glance. Sure, they could out Bob right then and there, and the deed would be done. They would become a couple and the team could be spared the next however many weeks before Bob finally explodes from infatuation. Or, of course, they could out him and then have to deal with the aftermath of the young woman not reciprocating his feelings, destroying the strongest relationship that both of them had been able to make since joining the team, and taking away the only calming factor that either of them were able to find to subdue their powers. It was a gamble, and for most of them, it probably wasn’t worth–

“We’re talking about Bob’s love for you, of course!” Alexei roared, joining the conversation for the first time since she’d left–he, of course, had chosen straight vodka for his drink of choice, and while it was nearly impossible for him to get drunk off of it, he’d been able to get his hands on just enough to make him tipsy.

The entire team stared at the large Russian man in disbelief. He’d been half asleep for the last hour, having spent a large majority of the afternoon convincing every member of the team to come spar with him. A cobalt blue shimmer surrounded the young woman for only a second, disappearing just as quickly as it had appeared–a reaction of her shock and slight embarrassment, akin to Bob’s beet red cheeks.

“Dad!” Yelena hissed, “you weren’t supposed to tell her.”

Bob stuttered a slow response, a few jumbled words that truly didn’t make any sense whatsoever. The others sat quietly, soaking in the suddenly chokingly awkward air in the room while Alexei argued to defend himself.

“What?” he asked, then turned back to the girl, “I tell truth, he talks about you all the time.”

She was silent for a moment, narrowed eyes scanning her teammates so closely that they were a little concerned that she was about to snap on them.

“Well, I would hope so. We’ve been together for months.”

“What?” Bucky barked.

Yelena scoffed out a weak, “Since when?”

“You have?” Ava jolted forward in shock, while John choked on his last swig of beer.

“We have?”

She turned to meet the wide, teary eyes of Bob. Her expression softened as she took in his appearance, lips appearing dry from his insistent chewing, the colour of his cheeks softening into a dark pink shade rather than the red that had formed out of embarrassment. She reached across, taking his hand in her own and stroking the back of it with her thumb.

“You didn’t know?” She tilted her head in amusement, “Bob, I’ve been sleeping in your bed every night for months.”

Bucky lurched forward, “Okay, a little less info please, some of us don’t need to know the details.”

She squinted at him, “Cram it, Tin-Tin. I’m not talking to you.”

“I mean,” Bob coughed, lowering his voice to feign some privacy as if he weren’t in a room with highly trained and enhanced individuals, “I never asked–not that I don’t want to–it’s just, I never got to ask you.”

She raised her brows at him, “Yes you did.”

“He did?” John gasped, finding himself much more intrigued by the situation than he ever could have expected.

She ignored him, “Yeah, right after the fourth of July, remember? You told me you liked being with me.”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant–” Bob stammered, blood draining from his face as he noticed the slight recoil of rejection in her body language, her grip on his hand loosening as if she meant to pull away. He tightened his own hold, “I do like being with you, I just didn’t know that’s how you took that. But I would like to. Be with you, I mean.”

A small smile curved onto her lips, and perhaps if she wasn’t sitting in front of an audience, she may have granted him a full grin as she squeezed his hand, “Good. In that case, I’m telling people that I’m the one who asked you.”

Bob nodded, turning to glance at his teammates bashfully, all of whom seemed to be in utter disbelief of what they were witnessing, “Yeah, me too.”

“Ahh, young love,” Alexei sighed, settling into the couch cushions as he slung an arm over Yelena and John’s shoulders on either side of him, “go on, Bob, kiss her.”

“Alright,” Bucky stood up, tossing his cards onto the table, “that’s enough of all the mushy-gushy. I’m going to bed.” he paused hesitantly as he turned to head down the hall, glancing down at the young woman, “I’m happy for you, kid. But let’s keep it PG, yeah?”

She rolled her eyes, “You better hurry up, wouldn’t want the geriatric unit putting out a search party.”

BONUS

This was, without a doubt, the most comfortable Bob had felt since he’d first moved into the tower. Laying in his bed, freshly showered, ceiling fan on, and the woman he hadn’t even known he was dating curled into his side with her head on his chest and wearing clothes entirely from his closet. She wasn’t asleep yet, he knew by the way that her fingertips were slightly twitching against the fabric of his shirt. She liked to fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat; she'd told him many times that she found it soothing and helped her drift off to a slumber that wasn’t entirely plagued by nightmares. In turn, her weight on his chest seemed to help with his anxiety, like a weighted blanket that was suspiciously girlfriend-shaped.

He spoke her name into the darkness of the room, waiting to hear her soft hum of recognition to continue, “I can’t believe we’ve been dating this whole time.”

She let out a quiet giggle, “I can’t believe you didn’t know we were dating this whole time. I literally sleep on top of you every night.”

He let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah, well…”

“And I let you make out with me all the time.”

“I know–wait, you let me? You haven’t been enjoying it?”

She turned her head to stare up at him, chin settling into the groove of his pec comfortably as she smirked at him, “Well I did at the time, when I thought you were making out with your girlfriend, but now that I know you were actually just making out with some random chick?”

“It wasn’t just some random chick,” he argued, “it was some neighbour chick. I’d seen her around.”

She pinched his side through his t-shirt, causing him to squirm underneath her, “Oh really? I guess that means I was just making out with some nerd I’ve seen around then, huh?”

He smirked, glad for the darkness of the room and it’s ability to conceal his blush from her, “I think I like it better when you call me your boyfriend.”

She turned her head again, returning to her original position as her cheek nestled against his chest, lips gently pressing against the white cotton.

“Yeah, I like it better, too.”

#x reader #reader insert #imagines #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds #bob thunderbolts #robert reynolds x reader #robert reynolds #thunderbolts x reader #thunderbolts #thunderbolts*#new avengers

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strawberry-nugget · 22 days ago

Text

To fill the empty spaces | 1

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x reader

Summary: Katsuki has been a single father for five years. After his wife died shorty after giving birth to their son, he's not sure he's ever going to find happiness in mundane things anymore. Cue you, the new, young teacher at his son's kindergarden, who seems to be taking the best care of his little guy.

-Or alternatively, karma is a quirkless bitch that will be biting Katsuki in the ass for his entire life, whether it's in him having a quirkless son, or falling for you, a younger woman, his son's teacher, who lost her quirk as a child before the Overhaul arc.

Tags: MDNI, Dilf!Bakugo, single dad!Bakugo, teacher!reader, slowburn, mutual pining, slice of life, fluff, eventual smut, ten year old age gap, Kirishima is a sunshine.

A/N: be kind to me i wrote this five years ago and never had the guts to post it until now :> this will be a 3 part story so let me know if you want to be tagged in the following parts

There's a strange deception about bliss and felicity in life and it is much like the analogy of the sun shining brighter after a storm, or the beautiful shades of the rainbow that cast over the sky. Happiness is supposed to be earned somehow, through hardships, or at least that's what everyone has always preached about.

How time has supposedly promised to bring you what you want, how the universe makes sure to give you what you're in need of when you need it most. You're expected to survive through the worst storm, pouring rain and eardrum grazing blowing wind and you're told it'll be worth it. So when you see trees get blown onto the ground or when you see crushing waves that are a hundred times bigger than the ones you've seen on normal days crash onto the shore and wipe everything in their wake you shouldn't react.

The sun shining, the warmth of the light grazing kindly over the mountain tops far across your vision should be worth it.

Until, it's not.

Bakugo, at least, doesn't think it's worth it and he doesn't think that you have to walk a mile before you get to rest. Mostly because he doesn't get to rest, and because walking a mile, for him, is the easiest thing in the universe. He's had too much hardship to know there's no payoff other than slamming his body into his couch after a long shift and feeling his chest tighten at the thought that he's managed to save a life.

For him, happiness is something you shouldn't chase or take for granted. 'There's such little time for us in the world' he keeps telling himself and every time he looks at the set of pictures on the tv shelf he knows his words are correct. When once he thought his happiness had found him, he'd put a ring on her and called it a day, had a fancy wedding, threw the biggest party when he topped the hero charts, cried when his son was born; he douched in bliss without knowing it was momentary and he paid the price of stomping over the steep top of the world by falling so hard that his bones could never fully heal.

It's been five years since his wife died, since he's had to take care of his son on his own and he's managed it perfectly so far. Showing up on every play in kindergarten, waking up at five am to make him the cutest bento in his class, clothes crisp and smelling of expensive soap, always present on parent counseling days, always present on days kids were supposed to bring their parents in to talk about their jobs, always one call away from rushing to anything he ever wants.

The phone always rings, without fail, every single day when Kiko's teacher leaves for retirement and a new one gets hired.

You're young, probably just landed your first job with your preschool degree and you feel like a fish out of water running a class on your own. Bakugo knows because he's seen it too many times, with the kids of his friends, has seen it happen to new sidekicks, assistants and despite not having the patience to deal with a rookie teacher who panics about everything, he appreciates the concern about his son.

So every single day, without fail, he picks up the phone (no matter if he's on patrols or doing paperwork) and begrudgingly answers your stuttered questions, “yes Kiko might not want more food but he's too shy to say it”, or “Kiko isn't allergic to the ointment your emergency box has to offer, but I packed the one his dermatologist gave him because it works best for his eczema”, or even “Yes I'm willing to talk about what Kiko keeps drawing this week.”

It's always a topic concerning overall health and attitude issues that a teacher who was called in two months before graduation and hasn't worked with the class for longer can't have knowledge on. And still, with raspy apologies, Bakugo promises to send you a few notes about your queries, because the other parents have already done so, and he's ashamed to be the last in line.

Your voice gets more stern over time, your calls become shorter, so short that all you ever need to ask is who's picking up Kiko today—even though the answer never changes; Kirishima both drops him off and picks him up- and then you hang up.

Today's call, though, catches him off guard, it makes his feet freeze on the ground, his teeth clash as his jaw tightens. You've dropped a bomb from the other side of the phone

"His friend Daichi manifested today and we thought he wouldn't," You say, voice sounding far, crazed, digital. "I think it's high time we discuss that Kiko might be… quirkless." You breathe out after a long pause and for the first time today, you sound apologetic -as you should—like you're begging to say sorry about the situation, like it's your fault his son hasn't manifested a quirk.

With his hand cupping his face, fingernails scratching at the seams of his jaw where just a slight scruff pokes out of his skin, Katsuki sighs. He glances to his right, catching Kirishima's sharp smile.. His face snaps into a serious one when Bakugo says, "I'll be there at three."

Thick fingers trample the screen of his phone pushing the end button a thousand times before he's assured he's hung up, shoving it into his pocket with a hitched groan.He looks over at Kirishima with hurt painted all over his face, feeling the mellow jabbing blooming inside his chest and in return he collects a serious gaze, one more apologetic wave burst that hits him in the stomach. Like a villain on a winter morning.

The thing is, Kirishima is a friend close enough to know when something is wrong and this is a moment where Bakugo knows he won't keep his mouth shut.

And so, the question isn't late, not even a second, it shoots out of his friend's mouth and it corners Bakugo into the nearest wall, his head spins, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Kiko's teacher huh?" Kirishima questions and Bakugo nods and then he makes his note "you look bummed man. Is it that serious or did she ask if Kiko has any allergies again"

It's not like Bakugo doesn't need a little pushover to spill what's in his head, but still, he rasps what's left of a winter cold in his throat, clears his voice before he mutters "She said" his head is in his hands "that he might be quirkless"

Kirishima mouths an oh, silent, his jaw tensing like the blond's had a while ago, but his face doesn't contort in sadness like Bakugo's does, instead, his ears perk, his brows travel up against his forehead.

"Don't worry bro, that doesn't make Kiko any less better than the rest of the kids."

That was quick and truly, Bakugo doesn't know where Kirishima finds all of this positivity. However, he supposes it's written over him like ink on a page, he's meant to see the good in any situation and put it on his plate, split his meal in half and call his glass full even when it's almost empty. Despite being in his early thirties and not being a schoolboy anymore there's always a goofy smile plastered all over his face and Bakugo thinks that maybe, maybe it helps him soothe that emerging ache inside his chest.

Or maybe Kirishima should write a book about how to always see the good out of everything and retire from his career as a pro hero to be a life coach. Because Kiko might be the son of Dynamight, but Bakugo's head is suddenly filled with images he's shoved to the back of his brain.

Kiko is the son of the number two hero, without a quirk in class full of gifted kids, he's expected of so much and there's so little he can give back because he's a child, a shy little child that Katsuki had to bring up on his own. And as Kirishima rambles about important people that are quirkless Bakugo keeps thinking about the times his son falls asleep in his arms and how guilty he feels for being a mean kid to Izuku for being quirkless, how he couldn't handle it well if anyone treated his child like that.

"His teacher is quirkless too" Kirishima says, patting Bakugo's back softly but that raises an eyebrow of the blond's. How exactly does he know that?

Not that it's his place to ask, or rather shoot this -gossipy- question at Kirishima, but there's a curious part of him when it comes to you. Apart from the fact that you sound like you're about to shit your pants every time you're on the phone with him, he's managed to land his eyes on one precious kindergarten picture of Kiko's class with you in the middle. And he can't really see much, not with a naked eye and not with his glasses, you simply have a smile on your face that matches the kids' but still you look proper enough to have landed the job at that prestigious preschool.

So when Kirishima adds a small "she's very cute and very smart" Bakugo gets a bit irked at him. He says it like he's the lead in a drama talking about the qualities of her crush even though she's being treated like shit most of the time.

There's a bursting feeling inside him that makes him shoot a question directly into Kirishima's face. "Are you flirting with my son's teacher?"

"Nope" Kirishima puckers his lips and looks away

Bakugo couldn't really care less about Kirishima's love life, he grunts, but there's this fear that overwhelms him when he thinks about his itty bitty baby son dragging Kirishima into the car while he's flirting away with anyone that stands in his way. There's this throat tightening feeling when he imagines his baby's belly grunting in hunger, a panic when he thinks his shirt is sweaty enough for him to catch a cold, or even worse he waits until he gets home to tell Kirishima that he fell and scraped his knees at school today and Kirishima probably has his thoughts taken over by his flirting when he's promised to take care of Kiko.

Sick sick sick. The thought makes him completely sick. Sick enough to consider working even less to be able to be the one to get Kiko from school every day. Fuck the hero ranks, fuck wanting to be the best.

"... for you"

Kirishima's voice is nothing compared to the worries inside his head, but as a shiny drop of sweat falls over Bakugo's forehead he's forced to ask for a repeating of his words.

"Come again?"

"Just saying man, just saying, she's uh, you'll like her"

Whatever Kirishima suggests, Bakugo knows it's a nuisance, but he promises himself he'll talk to you about his concerns on the matter. You sound like a good teacher, like you worry about Kiko a lot and Bakugo thinks that he can trust you on not allowing his kid to be treated like he treated Izuku.

Kirishima hunches Kiko over his shoulders the moment he walks out of the kindergarten doors.

You can't suppress a giggle when you see the interaction, bent on waving them off with a little back and forth shake of your hand and a smile; in the two months you've been working here, Red Riot shows up almost daily to pick up Kiko, because -as you learn- Dynamight works longer shifts a few weeks before his son's birthday so he can take a few days off.

And when March is about to roll around the corner and you're still unsure of the fact if that's possible, your coworkers that have been here before you keep reminding of you on the daily, that it's only a few days down the line that Kiko's father will be picking him up at twelve every day and then they run off to the break room to talk about how they can't wait to feast their eyes on Dynamight -because he looks so damn good in person. As always you excuse yourself, the subject of Dynamight's attractiveness being something that isn't really your concern to talk about.

Mostly, you have your views on how he's come to treat the daily heroic deeds like an office job, and although you suppose that as a single parent he doesn't have much choice you often compare the bits and pieces of today's Dynamight to the one from tens of years ago, when you watched him on TV debuting as a pro, fresh out of college. You frankly remember tricking your mother so you could zap between channels to simply watch him go, watch him beat villain after villain.

You're sure there's a routine in being a hero for over a decade, what you do and what you don't, how when you're faced with choices to set priorities you take your own paths in life. And that's probably how Dynamight gets to have a week to himself for him and Kiko -you wonder, if Kiko is happy at home with his dad, if that week helps him feel like his father is an ordinary human being, not someone that gives a piece of him to everyone- if there are evenings of quietness where the hero's phone doesn't ring with an emergency.

And would he do it for anyone else?

You've always been fascinated by heroes like him, the sheer amount of courage it takes to be your own person and have a life, live your own heaven or hell and then go about your days trying to make sure the world is safe.

You wonder if Dynamight's yearly one week absence makes any difference to the hero world, but as you look at Kiko writhing over Kirishima's shoulder you're convinced that it doesn't.

There's probably a faded Dynamight poster hung onto the wall of your childhood room that your mother's clinging onto, and there's probably a five year old child in you with bright gleamy eyes like Kiko's watching the UA sports festival, amazed by the blond.

Perhaps there's this fangirl of a child inside you when you call him that's screaming at you for having the guts to put on your big girl voice and talk to him. And sometimes you distinctly remember crying your eyes out the day he got married, so much that your middle school friends kept rubbing that on your face even until graduation.

Still your curious eyes travel back onto Kiko. He's twisting himself over Kirishima's shoulders and a part of your heart drops at how dangerous this looks from afar. But it's impossible for this mountain of a man to drop someone as small as Kiko. And the contagious giggle of the child is finally getting to you- Kiko doesn't usually laugh that much in class, nor does he ever seem as active as he is when Kirishima picks him up.

It makes you wonder, just how his interactions with his father are.

Kiko is a ball of energy at home, sometimes, Dynamight tells you.

Or rather, grunts at you.

He gets to the kindergarten on 3.17pm with a fresh split on his cheek and pouty lips. And he mutters that he is more than sorry for being late, although there's nothing to be sorry for, you tell him, because he is a hero and that's a job he can't clock out the second he wants.

"I'm working on it" He says and red eyes gleam dangerously into yours. You can't shake the feeling that he's angry. At you? At himself? At the villain that delayed him?

"It's really no big deal" You mutter, breath choked inside your chest and you gesture to him to have a seat across from you in the break room.

Your chest aches in a fast heartbeat; this is the same Dynamight that used to look back at you through a piece of shiny magazine paper in your teenage room- his eyes are deeper than carmine, with vermillion specs and copper rings adorning his irises. That's definitely something the poster in your room would never show you; the missing high quality of such fierce eyes, it's almost hard to speak when you look into them.

When you inspect his face from this close, your mind runs back to your coworkers, how they always talk about him and how beautiful he is- for a second you don't blame them, you'd love to gawk over him too, forgetting your words stare into those slant red eyes and get lost into them- but this is your big girl job. Your first serious job, and the faint expression line between Dynamight's brows signifies that your excitement has to be cut short.

He's not here to cater to you healing your inner teenager by looking at a person you were a fan of.

So you cough in your bent elbow to relieve the tension in your neck, your chest, and you arrange the notes in your hand by shaking them onto the table next to you.

"Would you like anything to drink? Water? Tea?" You offer and the hero shakes his head.

"No, I'm good"

You wonder if his wound hurts, or if he's nervous of what you're about to discuss with him- perhaps calling him to simply announce that his child is probably quirkless was a little bold of you, but calling parents to counsel or inquire them about their kids is essential in this school, or so your boss had blabbered endlessly about.

"These are a few notes about Kiko" You mutter quietly and hand him the pack of notes. It's not a pile, nor is it only two pages long. He glances at them with a sigh, tired eyes going over the paper before his fingers, thick and shaky with determination, reach out to take them from your hands, slightly brushing over yours.

And your heart is on fire. Great. Exactly what you need to fix your gaze in how small the paper looks into his hands. We're his hands always this big? Were they this big in your poster? Even if they were, you can't think of it right now, you clear your throat again and eye the notes -not his hands, the notes- and say "you'll have to go over them at home if that's not a bother, it's mostly in class progress and some behavioral issues I've noticed-"

"Behavioral issues? What behavioral issues"

It's his time to paint on panic all over his face, head twitching to your direction instinctively when the word drops from your mouth. You haven't had enough experience with panicked parents, especially being around panicked parents when you're panicked yourself, but there's a skip in your heart beat that urges you to prioritize your work over your thousand aeon old crush on Dynamight. He's nothing but a parent who's looking at you with a query like all others.

"Is there anything wrong with my son?"

You shake your head, lips crushed together, jaw tight "no no," You kindly muster up your voice "He's a quiet one, I think we should work on him being a bit more social"

"He's plenty social with my friends"

"I've noticed" You nod once, thinking about how Kiko behaves towards Kirishima versus how he behaves towards his classmates "but it's important to be able to be a bit compatible with people his age"

Dynamight nods as well, eyebrows quirked and knitted at the same time, his eyes going over the pages of notes he's flipping through. "I understand" He gulps and you read through that look almost instantly

"He's not a problem child, if anything. He's very smart, very witty. Just very shy, very quiet"

There's a stillness of air, a lack of time and space as he drags his eyes across your face once again, papers clutched in his hands, his lips pursed together so tightly there are dents all over his jaw. Unlike him, he notices there aren't scars across your face, skin delicate, looking soft, plump, young. There's a tiredness in your face that can't match his, the level of what's weighing him down is more than you could ever graze in your life and you look young.

Kirishima, stupid shitty hair that he is, infiltrates his mind just now, the inside of his lips tucking under his teeth; you do look cute. He was right. Your clothes look comfortable, baggy but appropriate for work, with colors that would look nice and calming to the kids you're in care of and he suddenly gets why Kiko is so fond of you.

You have your way of saying things. Carefully, tenderly. Like you could break him even by saying that Kiko doesn't know how to count to five. You fear you're going to break him by telling him things he already knows with a timid, shy smile across your face, a very polite voice, bowing again and again. There are no expression lines on your face, not one on your forehead, not nearly enough near your lips.

"As for his quirk. I'd say it's very unlikely that he manifests one but you should give him some more time" You watch as he nods, eyes wide as you open your mouth again, "did his mother have a quirk?"

Bakugo almost hisses, the question caught him off guard, sent his eyes to the corners of his kids and forced a huff out of his mouth. The sorry you utter isn't necessary, he knows and tells you so, but the words he wants to speak gather inside his mouth, hide under his tongue.

"I avoid talking about my late wife" He says and you bite your lip. You should have known. Dynamight's wife died in your late teens, but there wasn't much known to the public about her -maybe the fact that she was in UA with him, or maybe that she quit trying to be a pro at an early age- but her funeral was broadcasted by channels and you remember hungry media, restless reporters violating his personal space for a shot of him and his son. You remember the chaos, the mourning.

Your face drops.

Maybe life didn't go on for him as it did for you. Life wrinkled his eyes and dented his face . You think there's probably been a time he's had a very small baby in his arms, in his mid to late twenties, unsure of what to do, with not as plenty scars in his face -maybe just the one across his nose and the one over his lip- you can't help but stare and assume, perhaps a little rude at that.

But for the record, you never would have thought you would be teaching in the preschool his son attends.

"She was a psychic" Dynamight grunts through his teeth

"Incomparable quirks sometimes cancel eachother" You yelp, quietly, then speed up your words as you add "I'm quirkless too, if that's any comfort, I got shot with a quirk nullifier when I was a kid on my way back home from school"

Whatever Dynamight thinks, he doesn't respond. He looks at you with big, red eyes, face contorted in an apologetic mask, one you've seen on TV after he catches himself swearing on live interviews. You wonder if you're comforting. Any. But you hope there's a part of him that feels like his son can be included somewhere, somehow.

"M sorry" He finally mouths but it doesn't sound forced. It's more constipated when he adds "That must have been before the raid to arrest Overhaul"

"Oh we were taught about him in hero ethics class"

Bakugo curls his brow, curiously. The leap in the generation between his and yours continues to grow, and he's aware now, more than ever. There was never a hero ethics class when he was at school. "Hero ethics?"

"Yeah, and basic quirk anatomy, they're like major subjects you have to take throughout all of your university years"

"I wouldn't know," He sighs, "but I'd like your advice on how to approach Kiko on the quirk thing. How do I say something that doesn't scar him, or hurt him?"

Your breathing gets caught in your throat before you ever come up with a reply. Words are forming in your brain, years of academic knowledge flowing in your neurons as you're trying to figure out the exact answer to this question, the words of endless professors turning your brain into mush. If you could think of a way to feel, you'd feel sorry for using Dynamight as a parent with whom you're challenging your skills.

And in between year four basic quirk anatomy and child psychology for preschool teachers as an extra class you had to attend, you pick out a selection of exquisite words, woven by the wrinkles in your brain, washed over the anxiety in your gut. When you open your mouth, tongue dry and ready to clash with your palette, lips ready to make the first smack, voice almost at the brick of catching space in air, Dynamight's phone rings.

"Oh fuck" He panicks, mouthing a quick apology, bowing his head, squinting his eyes "this is an emergency, I have to take it" He says and you nod. His fingers -you notice they're thick, too thick, the back of his hands rough and chapped so much it makes you gulp- quickly reach to push the button to accept the call and he curses when the touch of his screen seems to act up.

He curses again when it stops ringing, but his hands are quick to make searching motions, waving back and forth in the open space. He's searching for a piece of paper and a pen, anything, and you-smart as ever- give him the lilac paint marker in your hands and, of course your hand. When he clicks his tongue you cringe. You feel stupid, embarrassing, like earth could swallow you whole right now and you wouldn't have a damn thing to protest about.

Still, he scribbles something on the back of your hand and the ticklish sensation of the nib across your skin kicks in instantly. When you read it you gasp, barely, and you hope he doesn't hear over the sound of his phone timing again.

"This shit won't cooperate, help me" With pleading eyes he turns the phone to you, tapping his foot erratically and you pick up the signal; you swipe up the button and he presses it to his ear immediately. You don't realize now, but the way your hands linger onto his for the second time today has made your skin crawl, itch, and it will do so for the rest of the week.

The back of your hand reads, in bright lilac, 'Beetles children playground, Saturday 5pm'

When you enter the indoor playground the smell of plastic surpasses almost any other.

There's something nostalgic about it; how these walls accommodate child after child, how the maintenance of enormous swirly slides is executed by precautions for kids to not scratch their knees, to fall on soft plastic covered mattresses when they jump out of the gigantic machine operating head of a tiger that acts as a slide.

Part of you misses that -the days where you've tried to convince your parents to take you to a place like this to play- but whatever's left of that part of you is smiling, awkwardly, lips pressed together as you spot Dynamight in the labeled 'parents resting place' cafeteria. Part of you misses not caring about how you look, your mannerisms, but still you hug your coat closer to your chest when Dynamight finally notices you, nodding his head. You bow from afar, eyes closed, lips pursed -only then you notice Red Riot sitting across from him on the small wooden table.

The sight of him -despite being a tad intimidating due to his enormous size- eases your nerves. He looks over at you, waving his hand, his grin plastered across his face. You're used to seeing him like this, nice, welcoming, talkative and enthusiastic, so your steps to their table aren't counted. You're assured -somehow in your head because Dynamight snorts too, leisurely- that there's not even a single thing to be worried about.

You study your clothes for any wrinkles a few feet away from the table, ready to curse yourself if there's anything sort of like a wrinkle in your long work skirt, but its loose wooly material has proven to be a savor once again.

Tentatively you smile at the two men when you reach their table, bowing your head and opening your mouth to greet them when Red Riot steals the words out for your mouth.

"Hey teach" He greets, hand still waving at you when you look at him, muttering a small "hello" in response.

Bakugo clears his throat when he notices the way you and Kirishima look at each other, it's not any of his business if you want to stare at each other to the end of the world anyway, but it doesn't have to happen at the parents lounge in a playground. So he's rolling his eyes to the back of his head, gripping his coffee mug tight -too right for it to be normal- in his hand and speaks up "Thank you for meeting me here"

It's so blunt that Kirishima bursts out in laughter while your eyes shoot open, confusion written on your face. Dynamight grows red, piping hot as anger plumishes his face with every choke of laughter Red Riot takes.

"Dude, don't make it sound like that" Kirishima laughs again, eyeing the chair in front of you "I think you scared her, look at her, come on teach, sit down"

"What the fuck. I didn't. Shut your face shitty hair"

"Please excuse him, his vocabulary is so colorful for a children's playground" Kirishima smiles at you when you look at them with a shook expression on your face.

Dynamight's foul language isn't a secret, in fact most of your co workers were and still are intimidated to be in a position to ever reply to any of these tantrums, and if you're honest, you are too. You strive to be professional, to look bigger than you are, more significant. And Kirishima is allowing you to believe that somewhere behind Bakugo's- Dynamight's foul language there's some respect to you, to the roof of the place you're under.

"It's okay" You shake your head and finally make a move towards your chair

You don't really look at Dynamight a lot, but you definitely notice the multicolored plaster that sits across his nose, decorated with dinosaurs of all colors. There's one on the cut on his cheek as well. It's cute, kind of, the way they contrast his eyes and his hair. You dont think youve ever seen him dressed so casually, or in any context that would allow him to rock such bandaids on his face, so it's even more peculiar to see him pull out Kikos green water bottle from his backpack the second he sees him approaching.

“Having fun?” he asks his son and the little blond nods with a huff, out of breath “you're all sweaty, we should change your shirt”

The kid objects and looks at Kirishima for what you guess would be support but he does not utter a word before he downs half of his water bottle. “Daaaad”

“Nope, don't look at Kirishima, he's not going to get you out of this. And say hi to your teacher”

Bakugo moves his head to the side and Kiko peeks with a tilted head at you, smiles and bows slightly before saying “hello miss, thank you for coming to my party” and you smile back at him and bow as well, while muttering a small happy birthday.

There aren't any kids from the kindergarten, only a few other heroes can be spotted on the other tables of the cafeteria and you're guessing it's the ones that are parents already, maybe in their circle superheroes’ kids are all friends with each other. Your train of thought is quickly interrupted by Kiko munching on a piece of toast Bakugo had given him.

“Now you swallow your bite and i-” Bakugo says as he retrieves a clean long sleeved shirt from his backpack, but is cut short before he gets the chance to finish his sentence

“Okay bye daaaad”

“Come back here! Kiko! Kiko!”

“Damn bro chill, it's just a sweaty shirt, he wants to play” Kirishima remarks with a giggle and you follow suit when Bakugo lets out a frustrated huff.

“Parenting isn't easy” you say, and sip on the juice that was served to you a while ago.

“You have kids, teach?” Kirishima asks, intrigued by Bakugos reaction to his question. You miss the way he kicks his blond friend under the table

“Oh no no, I just happen to be around so many parents at work and I've seen how challenging it can be. But I do hope to have kids someday." You reply, feeling a bit embarrassed for admitting your desires to have children to two of the top five heroes in Japan. It's not like you can always have everyday conversations with them and it's a tad uncanny that they feel so free spirited to talk about mundane things like a family with someone like you.

But the way Kirishima nods understandingly, and the way Bakugo rolls his eyes before growling “careful what you're getting yourself into brat” - not in a mocking way at least - makes you feel more comfortable.

“Oh shut up bro, you have a golden child. Never whines, never throws tantrums! You literally have nothing to complaint about”

“Well, a child turns out this well mannered only because of the way they've been brought up” you suggest and you swear there's a mischievous grin that covers Bakugos face momentarily

"Damn right!! But, It's not easy, that's for sure," Bakugo finally speaks up after a moment of silence, "but it's worth it. Seeing Kiko grow up and learn new things every day, it's amazing. He's a good kid, I couldn't imagine my life without him now that I got him" His tone is softer than you're used to hearing from him, and it catches you off guard.

Kirishima, on the other hand, is still grinning from ear to ear, looking like he's enjoying every moment of the charade between you and the blond. "I think you'd make a great mom, teach. You're so patient and kind with the kids at school."

You feel your cheeks warm up at his words, and you take a drink of your juice, hoping to hide your blush. "Thank you, Kirishima. That means a lot coming from you."

Bakugo grumbles something unintelligible under his breath, but you can tell he's not unhappy with the conversation. There's a comfortable silence that falls over the table for a few moments, until Kirishima speaks up again.

"So, teach, we were wondering if you'd like to join us for a little celebration tonight. We were planning on going out to a bar and grabbing some drinks." He winks at you, and you feel your heart skip a beat as your eyes fall all over Bakugo’s whos clenching his jaw. “Bakugo always celebrates Kiko’s birthday like this. Man… he's too happy to have him.”

"I would love to join you guys," you say, smiling, but i can't, i have a uhm-, i-"

"that's fine" Bakugo growls, don't push it shitty hair"

Kirishima smiles a wide grin that covers his face from one ear to another “oh come on! pleaseee”

You're taken aback by how childish Kirishima sounds, but being invited to something like this, with two pro heroes nonetheless feels kind of exciting. So you accept, shyly, there's not much you could do when you flicker your eyes over to Bakugo’s when they look at you like he's expecting you to say yes as well.

Kirishima's smile, despite being inviting at first, is dimmed slightly when Bakugo gruffs in response. Sure, he persists as his eyes plead with him -and you in time. “Come on, it'll be fun. I promise. Please join us teach”

Your gaze is so confused as you stare at him, hesitating to give a positive response. It's just so unbelievable that Dynamight and his best friend are trying to make plans with you.

Kirishima's wide grin falters for a moment at Bakugo's gruff response, but he quickly regained his enthusiasm, his eyes pleading with you.

"Please," Kirishima chimes in, his voice taking on an insufferable pleading tone.

You feel a pang of guilt at the disappointment in Kirishima's eyes—sure there are no prohibitions about spending time with parents outside of work, but you hesitate over actually saying yes to spending time with someone you’ve always admired as your hero.

Despite Bakugo's apparent disinterest, you find yourself unable to resist Kirishima's infectious energy. He's too sweet, always is. Maybe once won’t actually hurt.

Just one drink.

With a hesitant smile, you turn to Bakugo, hoping to convince him to change his mind. "It would be fun," you say, your voice soft but earnest. "I'd really like to join you guys. I think"

Bakugo's gaze flickers to yours, a hint of annoyance flashing in his crimson eyes that’s shot at Kirishima, because he can see your hesitation, before he sighs heavily, as if conceding defeat.

"Fine," he grumbles. "But only for a couple of drinks. We won’t be keeping you for long”

Kirishima lets out a whoop of excitement, his grin widening even further as he claps Bakugo on the back feverishly "Yes! This is gonna be awesome!"

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thewritingfairy · 2 months ago

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↪ 01. A job to pay the bills

inspired by acid-ixx and nikovraskol, rizzanon

PREV. PART trigger warnings: medical + emotional neglect, misgendering (reader isn't out and fem-bodied) m.list series m.list

When you got back to the Wayne manor it was bustling with life. ‘Dick and Jason must be here,’ you thought with a hum, quickly walking towards your room. You didn’t want to see any of them, not when it still broke your heart that they never truly loved you. Not when you decided to finally leave.

You just wish you had faked Bruce’s signature on a full emancipation and not just a medical one. Younger you was still desperate to be noticed, but at least not foolish enough to believe that your father would notice the pain you had been feeling. How could he notice that when he didn’t even notice that you cried yourself to bed every night, how could he notice that when he asked you to forgive Jason for shooting you and didn’t even notice how a small piece of you died that day.

“Stop thinking about the past,” you whisper to yourself as you enter your room, locking the door behind you before you open your laptop. To leave you need a job, and the few legal ways of employment could alert Bruce of your plan to move out. And you knew he wouldn’t allow that, it would harm his image as a ditsy but caring playboy father. An image he even tried to play up around you, but he quickly stopped after realising you didn’t believe his act at all. Your mother had briefed you quite thoroughly about your father if you were to ever meet him.

She would have punched him into the next century for treating you like this.

You open the website; gothamworkingforce and cringe instantly. It was quite empty, and for most you needed a college degree, you are a senior, yes. But you didn’t even know what college course you wanted to follow yet. “I suppose a hostess job would be the easiest,” you mumble, clicking on the application tab. “this one at least doesn’t seem shady or illegal… physical health can come when I’m out of here.”

You sent in an application making sure that it had your mother’s maiden name on it, you sure as hell weren’t going to announce you were a Wayne, not when your ‘siblings’ and ‘honorary siblings’ get kidnapped every 5 business days. You were just praying they wouldn’t ask for parental contact information.

A knock brings you out of your thoughts, it was Alfred. “Dinner’s ready, (name),” he announces through the door, making you cringe. You didn’t want to face your family.

“I’m not hungry,” you lie,picking your skin anxiously. You don’t want to see Jason and Damian, you never forgave them for the scars they brought you. But you would never admit that to Alfred, not when he would defend them in a heartbeat. Ask you to find it in your heart to forgive them, when you already forgave so much. His enabling hurts more then your family’s neglect. “I’m going to bed early, I got a big presentation tomorrow.”

Alfred sighs, and you could practically hear his thoughts through the door. “Tomorrow it’s Saturday,” you wince. “but sleep well, dear...”

‘I really need to learn how to lie better.’ you think as you turn back to your laptop as you sigh in relief. At least this time Alfred didn’t try to guilt you to come out and eat dinner with the family anyways. But then you noticed you had an email, you already had a message back from the lounge you sent a resume. Tomorrow you had a job interview... “fuck yeah!”

Excitement rushes through your body as you pick up your laptop in joy. A step closer to getting a job to pay the bills.

After you get that job (you’re a pretty person, you would use your looks to get this job if needed) you can start making a savings plan. You can start planning your escape.

And you are going to enjoy that escape with all your heart.

NEXT PART

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urdreamydoodles · 4 months ago

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MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

You Protect The Marvel Comics Characters By Punching Someone Who Speaks Badly About Them

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Marc Spector, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa & Elektra Natchios

Peter Parker aka. Spider-Man

- Peter Parker has been insulted more times than he can count. He’s been called a menace, a failure, a joke. He’s used to it, laughs it off even when it cuts deep. But when he hears the sharp crack of your fist connecting with someone’s jaw—when he realizes that you did that for him—his world tilts on its axis.

- “Oh no. Oh no no no.” His first instinct is to grab you, to get you out of there before this turns into something worse. You just punched someone for him. He’s supposed to be the one protecting you, not the other way around. His heart is hammering—part fear, part something softer, warmer.

- He rushes to your side, hands hovering, unsure if he should scold you or kiss you right there in the street. The person you hit is groaning, cradling their face, and Peter is torn between feeling bad for them and wanting to tell them they deserved it. (Because they did. They did.)

- “Okay, that was… something,” he says, eyes darting between you and the stunned crowd. “Not that I don’t appreciate the backup, but—y’know, punching people usually gets me into trouble.” His voice is light, joking, but there’s something else in his gaze—awe, affection, something deeper than words.

- Later, when he’s patching up your knuckles with the gentlest hands, he murmurs, “No one’s ever fought for me like that.” And when he finally meets your gaze, soft and unguarded, you see it—the way he’s looking at you like you’re the most incredible thing in the universe.

Tony Stark aka. Iron Man

- Tony Stark has heard it all. The insults, the backhanded compliments, the jealous jabs from people who will never be him. Normally, he drowns it out with charm and a drink in hand. But then—then—your fist connects with someone’s face, and the world stops.

- For a moment, he just stares. Blinking. Processing. Did you really just punch someone for him? Then, slowly—a slow-spreading, wicked smirk. Because holy hell, that was the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

- “Well, well, well.” He steps forward, slipping an arm around your shoulders like you’re some kind of victorious gladiator. “You sure know how to make a guy feel special.” He’s eating this up, reveling in it, in the way you didn’t hesitate, in the way you stood up for him like it was the easiest thing in the world.

- The guy on the ground groans, and Tony glances down, unimpressed. “Next time, try using words, buddy. Or, y’know, just accept that I’m better than you.” Then he turns back to you, tilting his head. “Not that I’m complaining, but—what was that? You got a thing for defending handsome billionaires, or am I just lucky?”

- Later, when the adrenaline fades, he brushes a knuckle over your bruised hand, voice quieter. “No one ever does that for me.” And it’s not teasing anymore, not deflection—just something real. Something raw. And for once, Tony Stark is at a loss for words.

Steve Rogers aka. Captain America

- Steve Rogers has always fought his own battles. From the alleys of Brooklyn to the battlefields of war, he’s used to standing his ground—used to taking the hits for the people he loves. But this? This is something else entirely.

- One second, he’s turning the other cheek, trying to walk away from the insult. The next, there’s the sharp, unmistakable sound of impact—your fist driving straight into the jaw of the person who dared speak ill of him.

- “Hey—!” His hands are on you immediately, pulling you back before things escalate, before this turns into something worse. But his heart—his heart is a drumbeat against his ribs, because you fought for him. He should tell you it was reckless, that you didn’t have to, but all he can do is stare at you, his throat tight with something he can’t name.

- “That wasn’t necessary,” he says, but there’s no scolding in his voice, only something soft, something incredibly fond. Because no one ever fights for him. Not like that. Not without hesitation.

- Later, when you’re sitting together, nursing your sore hand, he finally murmurs, “Thank you.” And when he looks at you, there’s a warmth in his blue eyes that says more than words ever could—a depth of feeling that leaves you breathless.

Thor aka. God of Thunder

- Thor is used to insults. They roll off his back like rain on a battlefield, drowned out by the thunder in his veins. But when he hears the crack of your fist colliding with flesh— when he realizes you have struck someone in his name— he does not laugh. He is in awe.

- “By the gods!” His voice is both a boom of delight and a whisper of reverence. He steps toward you, eyes shining with something almost worshipful. You are fire, you are fury, you are glorious.

- And then he throws his head back and laughs, loud and full of joy. “A mighty warrior indeed! You honor me, my lady.” He clasps your hand, ignoring the bruises blooming on your knuckles, lifting it as though you have just won a great battle.

- The fool who insulted him scrambles away, but Thor does not spare them a glance. No, his attention is entirely on you. On this magnificent, fearless mortal who would strike in his name. And suddenly, the air around you feels different. Charged. Alive.

- Later, when the revelry has died down, he turns to you, voice softer. “You are… remarkable.” And when he looks at you, it is with the kind of devotion that only gods can give.

Loki aka. God of Mischief

- Loki is no stranger to cruelty. Words have been his weapons, his shields, his burdens. But when someone speaks ill of him— when they dare to drag his name through the dirt—he expects only one thing: to be alone in the aftermath.

- And then you hit them. Hard.

- He blinks. Once. Twice. Shock flickers across his face, unreadable and raw. He watches as you stand, fists clenched, gaze burning with something primal, something protective. And for the first time in centuries, Loki does not know what to say.

- “You—” His voice is different. Lower. There is no mockery, no amusement, only a sharp, jagged edge of something he does not let himself feel. You have fought for him. Him. And the realization shakes him.

- Later, when you’re alone, he traces the bruises on your knuckles with something dangerously close to reverence. “You are a fool,” he whispers, but his fingers linger, his breath unsteady. “A reckless, maddening fool.” And then, softer—so quiet you almost don’t hear it—“And I think I am doomed to love you for it.”

Clint Barton aka. Hawkeye

- Clint Barton is used to being underestimated. People see the bow, the lack of powers, and assume he’s less. They talk about him like he’s a joke, like he doesn’t belong among gods and super-soldiers. He lets it roll off his back—until you don’t.

- The sound of your fist cracking against a jaw cuts through the noise of the bar, and suddenly, the air is electric. You did that for him. Not because he asked, not because you had to—but because someone insulted him, and that was unacceptable to you.

- “Whoa—hey, hey, hold up!” Clint is beside you in an instant, half-laughing, half-terrified. His hands hover near yours, concern flickering in his sharp blue eyes. You’re pissed. It’s kind of the best thing he’s ever seen.

- The guy on the floor is groaning, but Clint isn’t paying attention to them anymore. No, his focus is on you—on your clenched fists, the fire still burning in your gaze. You’re beautiful like this, fierce and unwavering, and he’s absolutely, irreversibly doomed.

- Later, when he’s wrapping your bruised knuckles in an old bandana, he grins, soft and lopsided. “You know, I usually do the whole reckless, getting-into-fights thing. But I gotta say—kinda nice having someone in my corner for once.” And the way he looks at you then? Like you hung the goddamn stars.

Natasha Romanoff aka. Black Widow

- Natasha Romanoff has been called a monster, a traitor, a woman who can never be trusted. She’s lived a life of whispers behind her back, of sideways glances and careful distance. She’s learned to endure it. But she never expected you to lash out in her defense.

- The impact of your punch is sharp, decisive— a clean, perfect strike that she would have been proud of. And yet, it startles her. Not because you hit them, but because you lost control for her.

- “You didn’t have to do that.” Her voice is smooth, but there’s something unreadable in her expression—something unfamiliar. She’s used to people fighting beside her, but no one has ever fought for her. Not like this.

- She grips your wrist before you can throw another punch, thumb grazing the pulse point there. “Look at me,” she murmurs. And when you do, she sees it—the fire in you, the defiance, the unwavering loyalty. And it does something to her, something she can’t quite name.

- Later, in the quiet of a dimly lit room, she traces the bruise on your knuckles with the barest touch. “You’re dangerous,” she murmurs, lips curving slightly. And for the first time in a long time, she thinks—maybe she wants to be protected, too.

Bucky Barnes aka. Winter Soldier

- Bucky Barnes knows what people say about him. A killer. A weapon. A man who should have died decades ago. He doesn’t argue. He knows what he’s done. He doesn’t expect anyone to defend him.

- But then—you do. And not with words. With fists.

- The moment your knuckles connect with skin, he’s there. He’s fast, instinctive, grabbing you by the wrist before you can swing again. His heart is pounding. Not out of fear—but something deeper, something he can’t afford to name.

- “Why did you do that?” His voice is rough, almost accusing. But you don’t waver. You stand your ground, breathing heavy, eyes blazing with defiance. It hits him then—no one has ever done this for him. Not Steve, not anyone.

- Later, he sits beside you in the quiet, his metal fingers ghosting over your bruised knuckles. “You don’t have to fight for me,” he murmurs, voice almost broken. And when you reply—“Then who will?”—he feels something shift in his chest, something old and aching and terrifyingly new.

Matthew Murdock aka. Daredevil

- Matt Murdock hears the insult before it’s even fully formed—the venom in the voice, the disdain dripping from every syllable. He’s heard it before, about his blindness, about his law career, about the devil that lurks beneath the surface. He expects to ignore it.

- What he doesn’t expect is the sharp, sudden sound of your fist connecting with someone’s jaw.

- His head tilts slightly, the ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. He felt you coil before the strike, heard your heartbeat spike. You didn’t hesitate. And God help him, that does something to him.

- “That wasn’t very lawyerly of you.” He steps close, voice low and teasing, but there’s something else there too—something reverent. His fingers brush against yours, light as a whisper, like he’s memorizing the shape of your defiance.

- Later, in the sanctity of his apartment, he takes your injured hand in his own, running careful fingertips over bruised skin. “I don’t need saving,” he murmurs, though the way his breath hitches when you squeeze his hand says otherwise. And when you reply—“Too bad. You’ve got me anyway.”—his world tilts, just a little.

Frank Castle aka. The Punisher

- Frank Castle is a ghost, a monster, a cautionary tale. He’s used to people spitting his name like it’s a curse. He doesn’t care. He’s beyond caring.

- But then you punch someone in the face for speaking ill of him—and everything stops.

- The guy drops like a stone, groaning, and Frank… laughs. It’s not a soft sound. It’s dark, rough, something almost dangerous. He steps forward, crowding into your space, looking down at you like you’re something holy and terrible and his.

- “You got a mean right hook, sweetheart.” His voice is low, amused, but there’s something else there—something molten, something raw. He doesn’t say it, but he’s never had someone do this for him. Never had someone choose him so recklessly, so violently.

- Later, when you’re both alone, he leans against the counter, arms crossed, eyes dark. “You don’t fight my battles.” His voice is a growl, but there’s no real anger behind it. And when you meet his gaze, unyielding, he exhales sharply. Because if anyone in this world deserved someone like you fighting for them—he knows it sure as hell ain’t him. But he wants it anyway.

Marc Spector aka. Moon Knight

- Marc Spector is used to being called insane. A broken mind, a fractured man, a violent, unhinged vigilante. The whispers follow him everywhere, behind his back and to his face. He doesn’t defend himself—because what would be the point?

- But then, you do. And not just with words. With your fists. The impact is sharp, the sound of bone on bone cutting through the murmur of the street like a gunshot. The moment is frozen. And Marc? He stares.

- He should pull you away, should tell you not to waste your breath, should laugh it off like it doesn’t matter. But he can’t. Because no one has ever done this for him. Not for Marc Spector. Not for the man beneath the mask.

- “You really shouldn’t have done that.” His voice is low, but there’s something almost reverent in the way he says it. His gloved fingers graze your bruised knuckles, and the moonlight catches in his dark eyes—like he’s seeing something holy.

- Later, he watches you from across the room, arms crossed, jaw tight. You stood up for him. You fought for him. And now, all he can think about is how much he wants to fight for you.

Johnny Storm aka. Human Torch

- Johnny Storm is used to the attention. The praise, the criticism, the headlines that reduce him to nothing more than a pretty face and a flame. He shrugs it off. Pretends it doesn’t sting.

- But then, he hears your voice—furious, unwavering, like a flame catching oxygen. And before he can turn, you swing. The guy stumbles back, clutching their jaw, and the entire room erupts.

- “Oh. My. God.” Johnny is somehow both horrified and absolutely delighted. He stares at you like you just set the whole world on fire. Because you did. And you did it for him.

- “I didn’t know you had that in you,” he grins, stepping closer. There’s something in his voice—something deep, awed, almost breathless. Because no one has ever burned quite like you.

- Later, when the adrenaline wears off, he’s grinning like an idiot, watching you ice your knuckles. And when you catch him staring, he just shrugs. “What? It’s kinda hot when you punch people for me.”

Reed Richards aka. Mister Fantastic

- Reed Richards has heard every insult in the book. Detached. Cold. Unfeeling. They don’t understand how his mind works, how his thoughts stretch beyond the present moment, beyond normal comprehension. He’s used to it.

- But you? You aren’t. The second someone spits out something vile, dismissive, cruel, your fist is already flying before Reed can even process what’s happening.

- “Oh.” That’s all he says at first, blinking as if recalibrating. He hadn’t expected—this. You. Your anger, your unwavering defense, the fire in your eyes. It’s an equation he hadn’t considered. And now, he can’t stop solving for it.

- “Violence isn’t necessary,” he murmurs, but he’s already taking your hand, stretching his fingers around your bruised knuckles, memorizing the shape of your loyalty.

- Later, he watches you—studying, calculating, analyzing. But for once, the question isn’t why. It’s how he ever lived without you.

Felicia Hardy aka. Black Cat

- Felicia Hardy doesn’t need protecting. She’s spent her life clawing her way out of trouble, slipping through shadows, dodging every snare. She laughs in the face of danger, purrs at the edge of chaos.

- But then—you hit someone. For her. And everything stops.

- She should be amused. Should smirk and tease and call you reckless. But instead—she just stares. Because no one, not once in her life, has ever thrown a punch for her. Not like this.

- “Darling, you really are full of surprises.” She steps close, a slow, predatory movement, her fingers tilting your chin up. There’s something wicked in her smirk—but her eyes? Her eyes are soft.

- Later, she finds herself watching you more than she should. Running a gloved hand over your bruised knuckles, feeling something dangerously close to devotion. And for the first time, Felicia Hardy wonders what it would be like to be caught.

Stephen Strange aka. Doctor Strange

- Stephen Strange is used to arrogance. His own, and the world’s. He’s used to people whispering behind his back, questioning, doubting, scoffing. He doesn’t care. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

- But when someone speaks ill of him in front of you? You react before he does. The crack of your fist against their jaw is startlingly satisfying. And suddenly, the entire universe shifts.

- “You—” He stops himself. Adjusts his cloak. Exhales sharply. He should be chastising you, telling you to hold your temper, to rise above it. But instead, he’s looking at you like you just rewrote the laws of reality.

- “You didn’t have to do that.” His voice is careful, but his fingers are gentle when they brush against your bruised knuckles. He’s spent a lifetime mastering control—so why does it slip when you’re around?

- Later, he finds himself summoning bandages with magic, hands lingering longer than necessary. And when you smirk, teasing—“Was that a thank you, Doctor?”—he only hums, a small, knowing smile playing at his lips. Because maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t mind needing you.

Namor aka. The Sub-Mariner

- Namor is used to disrespect. The surface world dares to look down on him, on Atlantis, on the very ocean that sustains their miserable existence. He tolerates it only because he must. But when someone speaks ill of him in your presence, they are met with something he does not expect—your fist.

- The blow lands sharply, flesh against bone, a declaration of war in its own right. Namor watches, silver eyes narrowing, his body rigid with something unnameable. It is not anger. No, anger is familiar. This? This is something else.

- “You strike for me?” His voice is velvet over steel, laced with the kind of dangerous curiosity that comes before a storm. His people have fought wars in his name. But this? This is different. This is you.

- He moves toward you, slow, deliberate, fingers tilting your chin up. There is no hesitation when he speaks next. “You are worthy of a crown.” And the way he says it—it is not a compliment. It is a fact.

- Later, the sea sings your name. And though he will not say it outright, he watches you differently now—like a king who has found the one thing worth more than his throne.

Johnny Blaze aka. Ghost Rider

- Johnny Blaze has been called many things. Freak. Monster. Hellspawn. He doesn’t care—not anymore. He’s spent too long carrying his curse, dragging his soul behind him like a dying star.

- But then you hit someone. For him. Your knuckles split skin, the sound echoing in the dim light of the bar, and for the first time in a long time, Johnny forgets how to breathe.

- “Shit.” The word is barely a breath. You turn to him, fist still clenched, shoulders tight with fury, and Johnny? Johnny just stares. Because no one, not in his entire damn life, has ever thrown a punch in his name.

- “You really shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters, but there’s something dangerous behind his voice—something that flickers like an ember waiting to catch. He should stop this, should tell you he’s not worth it. But instead, his fingers brush over your bruised knuckles like a prayer.

- Later, he watches you from his bike, the engine growling beneath him, his heart doing the same. And when he finally speaks, voice rough, almost shy, it’s only to say: “Next time, lemme do the hitting.”

Eddie Brock & Venom aka. Venom

- Eddie Brock has heard it all before. Loser. Washed-up. Parasite. He grits his teeth and lets it slide, because what else is new? Venom, on the other hand, is far less patient.

- But before either of them can react—you do. Your fist cracks against the jaw of the one who dared to insult him, and suddenly, everything goes still.

- “Did you just—?” Eddie’s eyes go wide. Venom, however, purrs with delight.

- “They are ours,” the symbiote rumbles, voice sliding through Eddie’s skull like liquid night. “They fight for us.” Eddie wants to argue, to tell Venom to shut up, but he can’t, because he’s too busy watching you, heart pounding, something terrifying and warm curling in his chest.

- Later, he doesn’t bring it up—but Venom does. “We like them,” the voice whispers, thick with amusement. Eddie doesn’t respond. He just glances at you, hands tightening into fists, and thinks: Yeah. We do.

T’Challa aka. Black Panther

- T’Challa has faced enemies greater than words. He has fought battles with his hands, his mind, his heart. He does not concern himself with petty insults.

- But you do. The second you hear someone speak his name with disrespect, your body moves before your mind does. The punch lands with precision, trained and true—a warrior’s strike.

- He should chastise you. Should remind you that his reputation needs no defense. But when he looks at you—fire in your eyes, your breath sharp, your hands still clenched—he feels something stir beneath his ribs.

- “Impressive,” he murmurs, stepping closer. He does not touch you, not yet, but the space between you hums with electricity. He sees you differently now—not just as an ally. As something more.

- Later, as he watches you spar in the Wakandan training grounds, his mind drifts back to that moment. You fought for him. And T’Challa? T’Challa is not used to losing battles—but he is certain he is about to lose this one.

Elektra Natchios aka. Elektra

- Elektra is used to being hated. She does not care. She exists between life and death, between shadow and steel. She does not need protection.

- But then, you hit someone. For her. And Elektra? She does not know what to do with that.

- She watches as the body crumples to the floor, watches as you shake out your fist, anger still radiating from every inch of you. Something slow and dark unfurls in her chest.

- “Foolish,” she murmurs, stepping forward. But her voice is soft. Her fingers graze your wrist, her eyes searching yours for something she refuses to name. “But… admirable.”

- Later, she finds herself lingering near you more than usual, watching, waiting. You fought for her. And Elektra Natchios has spent her entire life surviving—but now, she wonders what it would be like to be worth saving.

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dailymothanon · 5 months ago

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yahh. Like my new design for Soundwave I have made one for Thundercracker (perhaps for my own fan continuity)! I wanted to give him some cowboy things simply cuz he had a southern accent in I think the Unicron Triology, so boots- yes the spurs are lightning bolts— and sort of a vest (the white parts are supposed to be like tassels) cuz seekers when I look at them I see vests kinda… and I mostly chose One and IDW for most things else cuz it’s the easiest for me 😌 I DO have a lot of seeker culture world building in my continuity, but that’s for another time (maybe when I get the trine done). Long story short the three of them come from different seeker tribes(?), Thunders, Royals, and uh. Goths?

TC is great in most temperatures! Generates plenty of heat from all the lightning he absorbs and also therefore is quite resistant towards heat; but Soundwave being a bat… not the greatest in the cold sometimes, this is why he’s always has Ravage and Laserbeak with him, huddling up like how irl bats do!

Also a buncha Soundwave dancing, cuz his wings reminded me of Jarabe Tapatío— and they make great references for him to dance!

#not sure what to call my continuity yet but I’m sure something will come to me #fan continuity #transformers #tf thundercracker #thundercracker #soundwave #tf soundwave #transformers continuity #transformers fan continuity #transformers g1 #transformers one #transformers idw #transformers prime #transformers unicron trilogy #tf fan continuity #mothanon continuity

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jaylaxies · 5 days ago

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YOURS (MAYBE?) | part II

PAIRING: jake x fem!reader x jay

GENRE: enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, smut, fluff, humour, angst, cunnilingus, fingering, choking, blowjob, squirting, multiple orgasms, cum in vag, praises, degradation, double penetration in one hole, threesome, lots of kissing, slight body worship, aftercare, mentions of nicknames, mentions of food, lmk if i missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 17.3k out of 34.2k words!

SYNOPSIs: Your best friend’s wedding was supposed to be the well-earned vacation you’d been dreaming of, the perfect escape and much needed breather. Instead, you’re stuck sharing a room with your ex-rival, and the previously quiet, enigmatic boy from university, both seemingly perfectly poised to turn this trip into a carefully orchestrated plan to woo you. Alternatively: Challengers, but your playground isn’t a tennis court, it is the bedroom which you share with Jay and Jake.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni.

PART ONE: here.

A/N: hihi loves <3 sorry for the delay but here is the final part! a lil birthday treat from me to you guys, i hope you guys will enjoy it! all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

Chapter 9: Which one is the boyfriend?

Waking up to the sunlight was one thing, but waking up to the sound of two deep voices fighting, yeah that was your limit, the worst part being that you were in the middle of this chaos.

Jay was still laying behind you with his arm slung over your waist, meanwhile Jake was in front with his leg tangled with yours, one hand casually resting on your hip.

They hadn’t moved much overnight, but they held you like it was the easiest thing in this world, but their argument? Yeah you’ve had enough.

“Why the fuck did you elbow me?” Jay whispered.

“You’re literally breathing down on her neck as if you’re a vampire,” Jake replied.

“And you? Holding her like a stupid Koala,” Jay retorted, “your Australian roots are showing.”

“Yeah, it’s too fucking early for this bullshit,” you said and they froze.

Jake smiled softly, “you’re awake.”

Jay didn’t bother moving his arm, “good morning, baby.”

God you needed to leave this room stat.

You shifted slightly—and regretted it instantly because it made Jake’s hand slide lower and Jay’s thigh brush your ass. You were just a second away from exploding.

“Off. Both of you, right now,” you snapped.

“Hm—how about no?” Jay mumbled, pulling you closer to him.

Jake yawned, shifting close too, “why, princess? Don’t you wanna wake up with some love, hm?”

You groaned, “I want to wake up alone.”

“Love how you lie so easily, it’s always been your habit, hm?” Jay mumbled.

You shoved the blanket off of your body, finally getting away and up to get ready for the big day. That’s when you saw your reflection in the mirror, disheveled. Your top ridden up, your hair a mess, and warmth creeping up your face. The boys looked at you with lazy grins, shirtless and low sweatpants doing nothing to make you feel better.

You didn’t have an ounce of defence left in you now.

Then came a knock on the door, Winter’s voice waking you up fully, “babe, we’re starting makeup and hair in ten, Karina says you’ll have plenty of time with your boyfriends later so get ready right now.”

“Coming!” you called back, voice cracking from sleep and stress

“So you admit that we are your boyfriends?” Jake smirked and you groaned again.

“Where’s our morning kiss then?” Jay only added, stretching his arms over his head.

“You’re not getting anything,” you gave them a fake smile and they chuckled.

Jake grinned, “that’s not what i felt at 2 a.m.”

Jay walked past, brushing your shoulder, “pretty sure her thigh was making promises, that she’s not keeping right now.”

“Touch me again and I swear to God—”

“Tempting,” said Jake, winking at you.

“Where do you want me?” Jay added.

“Goodbye,” you muttered, shutting the bathroom door close, groaning inside and sliding down the door, clutching your poor heart, “how will I survive another day?” You asked yourself.

It took you ten minutes, your new record time, to take a shower and get into your robe, walking out mindlessly to run straight into Jay’s chest.

You couldn’t catch a break by any means.

“Still mad?” He asked innocently.

“Jail time for you actually,” you mumbled.

Jake stood by the closet, already half dressed in black dress pants and a white shirt he hadn’t buttoned yet. “If you’re done threatening us, princess, we brought you coffee.”

You looked at the cup in his hand, hesitated, then took it. Silently.

Jay raised an eyebrow. “No insults?”

“I’m saving them for the reception.”

“Can’t wait.”

Winter’s voice rang down the hall, “Y/N, the glam squad’s here! Don’t make me come drag you down now!”

You sighed and turned to leave—but not before Jake whispered behind you, “see you at the altar, angel.”

Jay added, “try not to miss us too much.”

You didn’t turn back, just walked out, sipping your coffee like it wasn’t the only thing keeping you from turning around and launching yourself at them again.

It was chaos the second you stepped into the makeup room, hair dryers were roaring, lashes were flying and were over the floor, and Winter was shouting something about lip liner not being the perfect shade, Hyuck was also there eating lipgloss cause he swore it tasted good. Mark was asking the hair stylist to do his hair in a way that makes it look less fried, Karina was pacing in a robe with a clipboard, muttering to herself like she was planning a war (she was).

You barely stepped in before Isa waved a brush at your face, “sit. No talking. You look like you made out with a pillow, geez, Y/N what happened?”

“I did make out with a pillow,” you muttered. “And was groped by two grown men in their sleep.”

“Jealous,” Winter said, fanning herself to dry off the eyeliner.

A few minutes of peace were granted to you then, before the door opened—and chaos followed as the two gremlins walked in.

Jay strolled in first, sharp in an halfway unbuttoned dress shirt and black slacks, sleeves rolled. Jake trailed behind, already halfway done with his tie and holding two coffees like it made him morally superior (it didn’t).

“Oh absolutely not, leave both of you before Y/N runs away again,” Karina said, not even bothering to look up.

“We’re just here for moral support,” Jake said, already by your chair.

Jay leaned in, smirking at your reflection, “you look stressed. Need a morning kiss?”

“You need a fucking muzzle,” you said, fanning your face and letting the makeup artist take over while Jake handed you another coffee, saying that it’s kinky.

“Sedate them please,” Yunjin called out, giving the boys a look.

Then a bridesmaid walked in with your dress after a few minutes of peaceful silence.

“I can help zip her,” offered some sweet, unaware cousin of Jeno, who was free and standing by the sides, getting acquainted with Yeonjun.

“No,” Jake said immediately.

Jay stepped forward, “that’s actually not necessary.”

“She has a boyfriend,” Jake added unhelpfully.

The room turned silent, even the makeup artists were intrigued by this point at the drama unfolding in front of them.

You coughed at the statement, looking at Jake like he was crazy, he himself froze at what came out of his mouth.

“She does?” Jay asked, raising brows.

“Well, yeah—it’s me,” Jake shrugged.

The room exploded into laughter with Isa nearly dropping her curling wand, and Beomgyu falling down as he choked on his croissant.

“I’m actually going to murder you,” you muttered, grabbing your dress.

“Need help with the zipper?” Asked the stylist behind you.

Jay and Jake moved, fully pushing each other to reach you first, and you looked at them with a face of disbelief.

“Okay, so this is kinda funny,” Karina laughed.

You sighed, “fine, you come in, no comments, just shut up and help,” you said, pointing at Jay.

You shut the door behind, getting into the dress first and then trying to do the zip by yourself, however, the luck wasn’t with you because it got stuck, you sighed and opened the door to actually let Jay in now, watching Jake mutter something in disbelief.

Jay stood there, eyes scanning the silk of the dress clinging to your frame. His fingers twitched once—then he stepped closer, one hand brushing your hair off your back.

You turned, holding the top of the dress in place. “Zipper, that’s all,” you breathed out.

He stepped closer, his fingers finding the zipper—warm, almost steady. He started pulling it up, slow and careful. Too slow for it to be normal. His knuckles grazed your spine with every inch. The silk clung tighter to your body, and his breath hitched.

You felt it. You felt him behind you—close, warm, too still, not being able to move. Then he stopped.

You opened your mouth to ask what was wrong, but then you felt the warmth of his lips brushing your skin.

Right at the base of your neck.

You gasped—soft and startled, and let out the tiniest whimper you didn’t mean to make.

That’s when you heard it, his low groan, “Fuck,” he whispered, then, under his breath, “Y/N.”

He kissed you again—deeper this time, lingering, as if he couldn’t control himself, not when you looked like that, not when he had you in his arms.

You reached back instinctively, your hand brushing his at your waist, and it suddenly made you realize what was happening, enough to remember how to speak.

“Jay,” you breathed as a warning.

“I know,” he murmured against your skin. “I just needed a second, god, you really do enjoy fucking me up.”

You turned to face him, dress fully zipped now, breathing shallow, he was still too close, eyes dragging down your figure, lips parted like he was the one gasping now.

He didn’t move still, didn’t bother blinking by any means.

You whispered, “you need to leave, Jay.”

He nodded once, but didn’t go, it was mindless by now, he was in a trance, so you placed your hand on his chest, pushed—firm but gentle.

That snapped him out of it, barely, but it did the work as Jay backed away, quiet and flushed, then slipped out from the door.

You stood alone for a moment, hand pressed to your neck like you could erase the heat before stepping out.

The room went silent.

And, of course, Karina’s mom walked in carrying tea. “So—which one’s the boyfriend?”

Jake didn’t miss a beat, his hand shot up, smile confident. “That’d be me, ma’am.”

“I—wait what?” You gave him a look.

Jay was silent, frozen, still pink at the ears, still not breathing right.

“He zipped her up,” Winter announced, loud and dramatic, pointing at Jay, “including the kiss and everything that happened inside.”

You turned, horrified, almost ready to stutter, “that is not what happened.”

Karina’s mom sipped her tea, “you know what? I like her odds.” With that, she left.

You stood there, dress tight, face hotter than ever, while the girls cackled and Jake just looked like a kicked puppy.

Jay said nothing, he hadn’t looked at you since.

You shook your head, slipping away from the room to grab the necklace from your luggage, opening the jewellery kit to get it out, unhooking the chain, only for Jake to intrude.

“Need help?”

You almost jumped, “god—when did you even get here?”

He smiled, taking the necklace from your hands, “turn around,” he said.

You hesitated, turning around slowly as Jake stepped closer, too close, and you closed your eyes standing in front of the mirror. Your heart was racing from earlier but it seemed like it was about to burst now that Jake was here for his turn.

“Open your eyes, princess,” he whispered close to your ear, and you did, which was a mistake as you found him maintaining eye contact with you through the mirror.

He lifted it around your neck, brushing your skin with the backs of his knuckles, making you shiver under his touch, his hands worked the clasp slowly. Way too slowly.

“You smell like him,” Jake muttered, jaw clenched.

Before you could reply, he slid his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you gently against him, his chest pressed to your back, his lips ghosting near your ear.

“Shh, let me fix it, can’t have my girl wearing someone else’s scent now, can I?”

You locked eyes with him in the mirror, his smile was still there, barely so. But his eyes? They were darker than ever, staring at your mouth, then your collarbone, and lower.

You felt it—the moment he stopped playing with you, his grip tightened just slightly, his breath hitched. He leaned in closer, nose brushing your neck.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he said quietly.

“Then don’t,” you whispered, chest heaving up and down, but you couldn’t move and neither did he move.

You both just stood there, eyes locked in the glass, pressed too close. Then he breathed out, eyes closing for a second before he let go, moving back and smiling softly, “the necklace looks good on you,” he mumbled before leaving.

You sat down on the bed once you were alone, wondering how you would survive this day, head in hands.

Chapter 10: A wedding to remember.

You found Karina right before the ceremony and she looked as if she was gonna cry.

“Deep breaths,” you told her, adjusting her veil. “You’ve got the dress, the man, and the weather gods on your side, you literally won, babe.”

She laughed at you, “why are you calming me down? You’re walking with Jay.”

“Okay, and?”

She grinned sweetly, “oh sweetheart, between him and Jake, you’re actually the one in danger. If one of them doesn’t combust today, I’ll be shocked truly, just don’t make it happen midway our vows.”

Before you could argue, the music started.

Jay stood waiting, suit crisp as ever, eyes already on you, arm extended, “let’s not keep the crowd waiting.”

You took his arm, “be good now.”

“No chance.”

You walked down the aisle together—graceful, composed, pretending your pulse wasn’t skyrocketing. His arm was warm under your hand, his voice low.

“You look beautiful.”

“Don’t start.”

He leaned in further, “still thinking about that room.”

“Shut up, Jay.”

He laughed, voice low, “I felt you shiver when I kissed you, y’know?”

“Jay,” you warned him again.

You reached the altar, finally releasing his arm as you took your spot beside Karina, and that’s when you glanced across the aisle—right into Jake’s eyes. His jaw was tight, hands held too hard in his lap. But his expression? Still that smile, and it was reserved only for you.

You shook your head focusing on the ceremony, tears of joy lining up in your eyes as the couple said their vows, big smiles on their faces even while crying, and you wondered if you’d ever find such love, not knowing that both Jay and Jake had their eyes on you the entire time the couple read their vows.

Everyone screamed of joy once the ceremony was finished, hugs and smiles everywhere with a tinge of glitter in the air.

You barely had time to breathe before the photographer started barking directions, “bridesmaids! Groomsmen! We need the full party—pronto!”

You moved with the crowd, bouquet still clutched in one hand, the satin of your dress glowing with each step as the photographer made you stand next to Karina. Before you could blink, Jake was there—slipping into the space beside you like he’d claimed it hours ago.

“Miss me?” He grinned and you didn’t answer just as Jay slid on the other side, completely ignoring the photographer, who gave up on this chaotic group as Boemgyu squeaked when Jaemin pinched him to stand straight.

“Closer,” he photographer yelled.

Then both Jay and Jake put their arms around your waist and you tried to keep your smile in place, “if either one of you touches me again then i’m leaving,” you muttered.

The camera captured it all, and you ran away the second they signalled that it was okay to go now. You hid with Minjeong the entire time before the reception after changing into your other dresses, the girl only laughed at your poor state, Isa shaking her head, “honestly girl, how did you even get into this mess?”

“Blame our bride who just wanted Y/N to fuck both the boys, but surprise surprise, they’re both in love with her,” sang Yunjin, and you groaned again.

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “I hate you all.”

“No you don’t,” Minjeong grinned. “You just hate how much you like them.”

“I’m going to throw myself into the cake.”

Isa sipped her drink. “At least stand near it first. Lighting’s good there.”

Just then the doors opened and you saw the boys come in, Jay in a black suit with his shirt slightly unbuttoned, and you cursed out loud, meanwhile Jake was rolling up his sleeves, standing near the open bar. Their eyes scanning the whole area to find you.

God.

Then they finally spotted you, smirks on their faces as they approached you.

“Oh good luck.”

“Hope you survive.”

“Get that dick.”

The girls said and you groaned again but couldn’t suppress the small smile threatening the corner of your lips. Your friends were shameless, but you knew they were right to warn you. Tonight would be anything but calm.

Jake reached you first, his arm sliding around your waist, “dance with me,” he said, voice low and playful, eyes daring you not to say no.

And that’s when you noticed the kohl he had applied on his eyes, making it seem deeper, darker, as if he wished for you to get lost in them.

You hesitated, but he didn’t leave any room for argument. He had already started guiding you away from the group, hand gripping at your waist as he led you to the dance floor, weaving you both through the crowd like it was the easiest thing ever.

His grip was confident, eyes locked on yours as the music pulsed. He spun you once, then reeled you back in, your body flush against his, his smirk more calm now, almost like a smile.

“You look so fucking good tonight,” he murmured.

“And that’s a problem because?” You asked.

“Because I don’t wanna share anymore,” he mumbled, lips caressing your cheek.

“You’re crazy, y’know?”

That made him laugh—and not the usual cocky laugh, either, this one was genuine, low and breathy, the kind that made his shoulders shake slightly. “And you’re evil,” he grinned. “I love it.”

You tried to stay annoyed, but he was making it difficult. He danced like he didn’t care who was watching—effortless and playful, tugging you back each time with a wink, a laugh, or some offhand comment that made you bite your lip to stop smiling.

“You know,” he said at one point, guiding you into a slow twirl, “if I drop dead after this dance, just know it was worth it.”

You snorted. “From what?”

“From being this close to you and not doing something profoundly stupid.”

The words hung between you—teasing, but not quite harmless, your breath caught, but before you could answer, the lights flickered. Just once.

Then again—off completely as he spun you around.

Quiet gasps rippled through the room, the music still playing low beneath the sudden chaos. You could feel Jake’s hands steady on your waist, his breath warm and close.

You weren’t sure if it was the darkness, or the heat building between your bodies, but your heart was pounding loud in your ears.

Then, lights switched back on.

And Jake was no longer holding you.

Jay was.

It took your mind a full second to register the shift. The movement had been seamless, almost like a dream—or a magic trick. One moment you were laughing in Jake’s arms, and the next, your chest was pressed against someone firmer, taller, quieter, eyes pretty than ever with a hint of eyeliner gracing them.

“What—how did this happen?” you asked, surprised.

Jay tilted his head slightly, his lips twitching, “timing, baby.”

Jake stood just a few feet away, arms folded across his chest now, brows raised like really? A scoff leaving his lips.

“You cut in during the spin?” You asked, half concerned, half impressed.

Jake was still nearby, just a few steps away, brows raised and arms crossed like he was debating whether or not to shove Jay into the massive speakers.

Jay looked at him, “what? She was laughing with you.”

Jake scoffed, “that’s called having fun, Jay. Surely, you wouldn’t know what it means.”

“She laughed too much, so i’m here to remind her who’s actually good at this.”

You smiled, trying to bite it back, “are you seriously jealous about the fact that he made me laugh?”

He clicked his tongue, “not jealous, just protective.”

“Protective of me laughing with Jake?” You challenged, you were having too much fun with this.

Jay’s eyes didn’t leave yours, “protective of how easy it is for him to make you open up like that. You’re not supposed to laugh that easily with him.”

You tilted your head, voice teasing, “oh wow, so now you get to decide who I laugh around with?”

Jay raised a brow, his lips twitching but failing to suppress the pout on his lips, “of course. It’s in our handbook.”

“Oh really? I must’ve missed that chapter.” You stepped a little closer, matching his energy. “Does it also say how many jokes I’m allowed to react to before you show up all jealous?”

You were glad that you were in the corner and not in the dancing circle because it was turning into a comedy show here.

“I didn’t say don’t laugh. Just—maybe less hysterically. You sounded like you were enjoying too much,” Jay shrugged with faux innocence.

“Can we please stop saying the word laugh? And god forbid I have a good time.”

Jay tilted his head, “with Jake?”

Your grin widened, “that’s what this is about?”

He crossed his arms, still trying to look casual, but the slight pout was enough for you to smile, “he just—he’s not that funny. Not funny.”

“Hm, sounds personal.”

“It is personal,” he muttered before catching himself, “I mean—it’s not. I just think you shouldn’t be looking at someone like that when they’re saying the dumbest shit known to man.”

Wow, Park Jay losing his composure, you would have done anything to see this sight during your uni days, but now that he was pouting in front of you, you laughed freely.

“So now you’re tracking how I look at people?”

“I’m just saying,” Jay replied, a little too fast, “you look like you forgot there were other people in the room.”

You smiled, very slowly, “oh my fucking god. You’re actually jealous.”

He scoffed immediately, but the way he looked away, gripping your waist tighter, yeah that gave it away.

“I’m not jealous,” he grumbled.

You stepped in again, cupping his face with a pout to tease him further, which only made his heart beat faster, “no?”

Jay’s voice dropped lower, eyes on your lips now, “I just don’t like when someone else gets that version of you. The non rivalry, carefree one, the one I couldn’t get up till now.”

Your lips parted, not expecting him to say something so seriously, your hold on his face loosening.

That’s when Jake slid in again, “pouting like a kid won’t get you anywhere, Jay.” He said, offering you the drink he was drinking earlier and you took a sip, now standing between the boys.

“I’m not pouting,” Jay said, voice flat. .

“Could’ve fooled me. I’ve seen toddlers who sulk less than you do, mate, but then again, you’d do anything to get that attention, huh?”

“Oh fuck no, I just don’t like others being close to what’s mine, and I’m not the one putting up an act.”

You raised your brow at him.

“She’s not yours, Jay. You keep saying shit like that, but when are you actually gonna—”

“Don’t,” Jay cut in, sharp, “shut it, Jake. Not in front of her.”

“Oh, because she hasn’t noticed already?” Jake gestured lazily toward you, “she’s not stupid. She knows.”

You stood in the middle, heart beating out of your chest for the nth time today.

“Okay,” you said, grabbing both their collars.

You then tip toed to place a strong kiss on Jake’s jaw, close to his plush lips, his mouth opening in disbelief.

Then you turned to Jay, placing a softer kiss near his pout, who looked dazed again.

You smiled and let them go, looking at Jake as a way to tell him you’re taking his drink, then at Jay with a humorous smile, “you guys need to shut up more often, y’know?” You said before leaving.

“Did she just?”

“Yeah.”

“Fucking hell, she kissed us to shut us up?”

“Mine lasted longer, oh god.”

“You’re crazy,” Jake mumbled.

“I know,” Jay smiled.

Your friends were squealing at the bar, waiting for you to show up and you groaned just looking at their overjoyed faces.

You tried to slip past, but Beomgyu grabbed your arm with a teasing grin, “okay so, where’s my kiss?”

“You’re cute if you think that’s gonna happen,” you mumbled.

“There’s enough competition already,” whistled Heeseung and Jaemin laughed.

“Who’s cheek is softer?” Asked Isa and you groaned.

“No but they’re still bickering,” Winter pointed out, looking at them, actually, judging them hard as if trying to choose the better option for you.

“I love my wedding, hopefully you’ll marry one of those two idiots,” Karina said, and you groaned, hugging her to save yourself from further embarrassment.

“To a wild night, and ahem, kisses,” Yunjin said, raising her glass.

Chapter 11: Seat of my soul.

Universe clearly knew how to test your limits one by one as you found yourself sitting very dearly on the dinner table with the devils on each of your side, Karina mouthing sorry to you as Hyuck sniggered in the background, and you? You were not gonna lose composure anymore, especially after how on edge the boys were ever since the kiss.

You ignored both of them, focusing on your food and whatever Yunjin was saying, sitting across from you, but that didn’t stop them from getting closer, brushing their arms against yours, getting any source of friction they possibly could achieve.

“Ignoring me now, princess?” Jake whispered near your ear.

“I know your attention is on me, baby,” Jay mumbled near your other ear.

The audacity. The sheer audacity of both of them.

Your fork clinked softly against your plate as you clenched it a little tighter, jaw ticking as Jake and Jay closed in on either side, whispering in that same maddening tone that drove you crazy.

Jake’s breath brushed your skin again, low and teasing, “aw, I thought we were past the silent treatment after that little kiss, hm?”

“I liked the part where you almost let me have you this morning,” Jay added, voice just low enough to make your spine straighten. You didn’t move after, just sighed.

Just then Karina’s mom walked to you, checking on all the guests around the grand room.

“So, is Jake still the boyfriend or is Jay finally making moves?” She asked, loving the whole drama. Like mother like daughter.

You froze mid sip of your wine, Jake coughed and tried to hide it, Jay didn’t move at all, staring at you with surprised eyes.

Your lips curved into a grin, “oh auntie, honestly, if you have any spare sons I haven’t met yet, then please let me know.”

She chuckled, “if I did have one, I surely would have married him off to you,” she winked, watching the boys getting uncomfortable by the second at the thought of you with someone else.

And the table erupted into laughter, especially Beomgyu and Hyuck, who were having the time of their lives, with that, Karina’s mom walked away to tend to other relatives.

The second she was out of earshot, Jake leaned in with a little too much casual tension in his voice.

“Spare sons, huh?”

You sipped your wine, not meeting his eyes, “why? I didn’t want to be rude.”

Jay tilted his head slightly, his voice calm but his gaze was anything but. “Interesting way to flirt with imaginary men.”

“I mean, I flirt better in person,” you shrugged.

“You looked a little too comfortable joking about marrying someone else.” Jake chuckled, no humour behind that laugh.

Jay’s jaw tightened for the nth time today, but his smile remained fixed—cool, confident, his fingers brushed your arm under the table, the touch light but deliberate, sending a subtle shock through you.

Before either of them, or you could say anything, your phone buzzed in your hand, breaking the tension. You glanced down—your brother’s name flashing on the screen.

“Excuse me,” you said, glad that your dinner was already finished as you stood up and walked towards the empty balcony.

Jay and Jake looked at each other, stayed in their places for two minutes, twitching to get up and check the matter, Hyuck and Gyu only made it worse.

“Gosh? A secret boyfriend?” Hyuck gasped.

“How could she cheat on me?” Beomgyu replied dramatically.

Jay and Jake snapped to look at each other, again, before nodding together and getting up to follow you outside, making the other two laugh at the incredulous idiocy of them.

“Yes?” You said, picking up the call.

“Wow, no hi hello, how are you?” Your brother replied.

“Fine, hi, what’s happening?” You said in your fake sweetness induced tone.

“Mom asked me to remind you to bring the herbal tea when you come back, that’s all,” he said.

“You could’ve texted me that,” you mumbled, confused.

“I did. You ignored it,” he snorted and you chuckled, “okay, don’t forget it, bye.”

“Nah, you’re forgetting something,” you said.

“Fine,” he groaned, “god—okay, love you, bye.”

“Love you too,” you laughed before cutting the call.

Right then, you heard two men crashing into each other, freezing on the spot right after. Jay’s mouth had parted slightly, eyes dark, brows furrowed in a way that screamed possessive. Jake, meanwhile, looked like someone had just punched him in the solar plexus.

“I’m sorry—what?” Jake almost screamed.

“Who exactly are we saying I love you to?” Jay interrogated, shine gone from his eyes.

“Wow, we’re eavesdropping now?” You asked, taking a sip of your wine.

Jake was the first to lose his composure, stepping close enough that your arm brushed against his chest, “you literally said I love you.”

Jay’s voice came from the other side, “and you said it while smiling.”

“Oh my, you really have a thing for my smile, don’t you?” You teased, “my bad, sir. I’ll run it by you the next time.”

Jake simply ignored the sarcasm, “who was it?”

You tilted your head and hummed as if in deep thought, “why do you wanna know?”

It didn’t take them a second before Jay’s arm was around your waist, bending down so his face was close to your ear, lips curved in a gentle but possessive caress against your lobe.

Jake followed suit as he rested his hand on the dip of your hips, lips inches away from your jaw on the other side, each prodded touch leaving warmth behind on your skin.

“Tell us the truth, princess,” Jake mumbled, shaking with anger.

“Who is it? Don’t test me, baby,” Jay whispered, almost ready to bite your ear gently.

“You’re really doing this right now? It’s actually nothing.” You let out a soft laugh, light and airy, even though your pulse was pounding.

“Is that so?”

“Then say the name.”

“Y’know, I don’t think you guys deserve it,” you shook your head slowly, testing them, also having had enough of their bullshit.

“Don’t push it anymore, princess,” Jake said, lips now caressing your skin.

“You both are crazy,” you whispered, looking at Jake now, “it’s kind of fun if you ask me.”

Jay’s hand slid higher on your waist, gripping you tighter, “do you want us to lose it? I’m not that patient.”

You just chuckled, to which Jake grabbed your chin, nose brushing against yours. Jay’s fingers wrapping around your nape as he breathed hard against your cheek.

“Say it.”

It was hard for you to maintain composure, your legs feeling weak already but somehow, you managed to give them a smile, “it was my brother.”

Both boys moved a step back at the same time, looking at you as if you gave them the worst kind of betrayal with the newfound information.

“Wait—what?”

“You’re kidding.”

They both breathed out together, more than baffled at the whole situation, even more so when they saw you stifling your laugh by drinking another sip of your wine.

“You’re—actually fucking laughing?” Jake ran his hand through his hair, eyes wild, makeup smudged slightly now, “jesus fucking christ, you’re unbelievable.”

Jay looked even worse than how he did when you beat him at the university debate, “you—you just let us believe—”

“I almost kissed you out of jealousy,” Jake confessed.

“I was gonna drag you to the bedroom,” Jay added.

You almost gasped at that, eyes widening at the blatant shamelessness, trying to look away now that the boys were so vulnerable and disheveled in front of you, like they were stripped bare with how easily they let you see how you affected them.

He stepped close to you, chest pressing fully against yours, and wrapped his arms around you in a tight, warm, hug, like he needed to shield you from something or shield himself in you. He pressed his face into your neck, so close to where your clavicle was, voice muffled against your skin. “I can’t believe how close I was to snapping.”

You barely had time to react before Jay was behind you, arms sliding around your waist from behind, his grip solid, as if it would finally ground him. He pressed close to you too, head dropping onto your shoulder, his breath shaky, “I swear, never ever do that again, I didn’t even know I could feel like that.”

You stood frozen in the middle, held tightly between them, your arms at your sides for a breathless moment before you slowly lifted them. one resting on Jake’s back, the other lightly gripping Jay’s arm. Their touch, once a flirtation, now felt like something far more raw, protective, possessive.

Three years of being away didn’t help much now, in fact it only worsened the situation for the two. It was do or die in a way, they didn’t have much time left before they went back home, and the mere thought of them never meeting you again, or going back without confessing, scared them.

They both just sighed into your touch, you felt heat crawl up your neck—not because of embarrassment, but because of what it was. This was their way of saying it, of showing it.

Jake’s hand moved, slow and steady, fingertips brushing the back of your neck like he was tracing a path he wanted to memorize by heart. His breath was hot against your throat, warm and steady, and then—he kissed the space just beneath your jaw. A quiet, reverent press of lips, like a thought he couldn’t hold in anymore.

Your eyelids fluttered shut at the warmth that spread through your body, your head tilting enough to give him more access, unconsciously so.

Behind you, Jay’s arm curled tighter around your waist, pulling you deeper into his chest. His nose tracing the slope of your shoulder, breath shaky, jaw brushing against your skin. He didn’t kiss you, but it felt like he had.

The moment stretched, and you didn’t let it stop, you couldn’t, not when they had fucked with your mind so deeply that you could barely keep up your nonchalant persona up in front of them.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

The door flung open with a bang, and came in Minjeong with a face that was full of horror. “Are you seriously, seriously, doing this on the balcony?”

Jake pulled back like he’d been scalded, eyes narrowing at the interruption, but he said nothing—his silence louder than any curse.

Jay’s arms lingered a second longer, his lips pressing into a tight line before he released you with one final squeeze.

Minjeong gestured to you with a sharp flick of her finger, “you. Come with me. You need cold air before one of the great-aunts asks why you have two men all over you.”

“I’m fine,” you spoke, voice now hoarse for some reason (read: Jay and Jake) but you moved further, not having it in you to look back at the two boys who still had their eyes on your figure.

They didn’t follow you, not yet.

Because they knew you’d be theirs eventually.

Chapter 12: Be like Tashi.

The reception was on its last legs, winding down finally. Half the crowd had either gone to sleep or switched to slippers. One of Karina’s aunts was slow dancing with a toddler. Somewhere in the background, the playlist had looped into a mellow Ed Sheeran ballad for the third time, which the group did not like.

You were at the standing table with the others, heels in your hands, Jay and Jake nowhere to be found, which did worry you but you did respect the silence, knowing it would go away the second you enter your bedroom again.

“What’s with these fuckass songs?” Winter asked, eye twitching at the DJ who looked scared.

“This song.” Started Isa.

“Gnarly,” sang Jaemin and Heeseung, together.

Beomgyu was still eating cake, “well, it is the emotional breakdown hour, like literally look at how Jay and Jake disappeared, to cry, probably.”

“Oh yeah, where’s the angel and devil combo?” Hyuck asked you.

“Who’s who?” You raised your brow.

“Exactly,” he nodded and you chuckled.

Jaemin leaned in from the side, voice low and almost conspiratorial, “what would you do if you walked in on them fighting? Like real fighting. Blood and buttons everywhere.”

“That depends.”

Isa chimed in, “yeah? On what?”

“If shirts are already off,” you gave them a smirk but winced right after because then fighting is a true possibility, especially at this ungodly hour.

Beomgyu wheezed, Winter dropped her head on the table dramatically, Heeseung whistled, and Jeno was a bit concerned about the boys.

“Love this evil side of you, babe,” said Yunjin, far too drunk to actually comprehend the conversation as you stood there, side hugging Karina.

“She’s basically broken them two,” Jaemin added in a whisper, as if it was scandalous.

“I literally don’t understand what even happened, one second I’m okay and the other second I’m being ambushed by them both.” You muttered.

“You mean desired,” Beomgyu said, licking the frosting off his thumb, and you gave him a look.

Winter straightened her back, her cheek still pink from laughing too hard, “no, but seriously. This is exactly like Challengers. You’re Zendaya in the flesh.”

“Yeah, except this isn’t tennis we’re witnessing right now,” you muttered.

“Could be,” Hyuck offered, “the boys have balls I mean—”

That’s when everyone rolled their eyes at his poor attempt at a joke.

“You’re banned,” said Heeseung, looking at Hyuck who was now pouting.

“You’re literally Tashi, you’re in control, babe. They both keep fighting for your attention, and, and, you’re in the same room, same bed, all thanks to me.” Karina said proudly.

“Okay but honestly, can we talk about how insane they looked all night?” Isa cut in, “Jake wouldn’t even let anyone talk to her during dinner. And Jay kept eyeing Jake like he was ready to commit a murder actually.”

“They’ve always been like this, they’re just more shameless now, not trying to hide their real feelings,” Yeonjun muttered.

You shook your head slowly, “I don’t know how we got here, it’s funny if you ask me.”

Beomgyu raised a brow, “uh, you. You got here, I was clearly the better option that you chose to neglect.”

That earned him a smack from Yeonjun, making everyone laugh before you shook your head.

“I should probably check on them.”

“Don’t break the bed, if you do then remember to make it Tashi style, I’m rooting for that,” Minjeong added and you chuckled, bidding everyone goodnight and congratulating the couple once again.

The hallway was quiet, the distant music from the speakers downstairs replaced by a hush that blanketed the villa now that most of the chaos had died down, you went upstairs and into the shared room.

The open balcony doors revealed two familiar silhouettes under the soft glow of the moonlight, merely hidden with a layer of curtains. You slowed when you heard their voices, tensed, and way too familiar by now. Something in the tone made you stop just short of the threshold. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You just didn’t want to interrupt, not yet.

“You seriously can’t be fucking real right now,” Jake’s voice was crisp, “you’ve been picking fights with me all day, in fact, since she got here.”

Jay scoffed. “I’ve been picking fights with you? Me? You’ve been glued to her because you fucking can’t even comprehend the thought of anyone breathing near her.”

“As if you’ve not been provoking me all day, the fuck did you do with her in the changing room, huh? You think I wasn’t paying attention?” Jake challenged.

Jay tilted his head, his smirk slow and dangerous. “Why? Want me to do a replay of it with her in front of you? You’ll listen to it crystal clear now.”

Jake’s jaw clenched, hands fisting at his sides, the cigarette in his fingers now forgotten. “Say it again. I fucking dare you.”

Jay’s voice got deeper, more tense, “she wasn’t complaining,” he said, bending on Jake’s eye level.

Your heart was beating out of your chest, the smell of cigarettes they were inhaling filled the air, now on the ground as they focused on the boiling argument more.

“I swear to God,” Jake breathed, “if you touched her just to get under my skin—”

“You don’t get to talk about touching her like you fucking own her,” Jay shot back, voice rough now. “You’ve been pretending you’re the good guy, but I see right through you, you’ve been obsessed with her like a fucking stalker.”

Jake laughed humourlessly, “and you think you’re better? You think pushing her buttons for years in the name of rivalry and acting like she’s beneath you was some twisted version of affection?”

Jay’s voice cracked on the next line, low and almost bitter. “I didn’t know how else to want her.”

Jake’s brows lifted in disbelief, a scoff leaving his lips, “yeah? Well, I’ve wanted her since uni.”

“Well fuck you. So did I.” Jay seethed out.

The silence was loud, air thick with the newfound confession hanging around, you saw Jay’s shoulders tense just a second before he swung.

You barely had time to push the door open and throw yourself forward.

“Wow,” you said, leaning on the balcony door, making both of them freeze just as Jake’s fist nearly collided with Jay’s jaw and vice versa, “you guys done or should I come back once you’re bloodied and dying?”

Jake turned, flushed and panting, still seething from whatever he thought was about to happen. Jay just dragged a hand down his face, jaw clenched, not meeting your gaze, cursing the timing.

“Seriously,” you continued, tone light but sharp as a knife, “was the cigarette not enough? You had to throw in punches? What? Will that make it any better?”

Jay let out a harsh breath, looking away. “You don’t get it.”

“No,” Jake said bitterly, still glaring at Jay, “she gets it just fine. You just don’t like that she sees through your entire act.”

“What act? The one where he sulks in corners and reads philosophy books upside down because he can’t handle attention?” You scoffed.

Jay’s mouth twitched, but it was not in amusement. “Better than performing for it.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed at this. “You really wanna go there?”

“You already almost threw the first punch,” Jay snapped.

You rolled your eyes. “Jesus, shut it now. You two are unbelievable.”

Jay looked at you then, really looked—eyes dark and glassy, his voice lower now, “you made it like this.”

“You dare have a go on her,” Jake stepped closer again, furious.

“I’m not—not entirely at least,” he sighed.

“You two are unbelievable,” You shook your head slowly, lips parting with something between disbelief and exhaustion, or both.

Jake muttered under his breath, “you don’t deserve her.”

Jay turned to him, “wow, and you think you do?”

And there it was again, the stupidity. You could see it in the way their bodies shifted forward, how their shoulders squared up like they were ready to swing again, over you, like you weren’t even standing there.

And that was it, you’ve had enough.

“Enough,” you snapped, both their heads turning toward you.

Your voice dropped lower. “You want to fight? Be my fucking guest. Beat the shit out of each other, see if that solves it, but stop pretending this is about me when it’s really just about you two and your stupid lil’ competition about who’s more, what, charming enough to get a girl?”

Jay didn’t speak, he knew he had fucked up enough. Jake’s brows furrowed, lips parting like he wanted to argue—but he didn’t. He just looked at you, eyes filled with regret.

You stepped forward slowly, the sound of your bare feet soft against the floor, the look on their faces only making it hard for you to keep your composure in check.

“You two don’t even realize how alike you are,” you muttered, almost to yourself, “both of you constantly pretending you’re so different, when really, you just want the same thing, you want to feel like you matter more than the other.”

You were standing between them now, each of them on edge, silent and watching you like they didn’t know whether to apologize or fall to their knees to do so.

You pointed to the bed with your finger, “go, sit down.”

They hesitated at this, not sure if they were even allowed to be in the same room as you anymore.

You looked at them, rolling your eyes and saying flatly, “hm? Was that not clear?”

Jay rushed and sat down first, Jake followed him a second later, maintaining a distance, both of them on the edge of the mattress, legs slightly apart, shoulders tense, avoiding each other’s gaze. They looked like they hated being there, but not more than they hated the idea of missing whatever you were about to do next.

“God,” you muttered, shaking your head like you couldn’t quite believe it, laughing a little, “you’ve both been so fucking stupid.”

Jay’s head jerked up at that and Jake’s eyes flicked to yours, mouth slightly open seeing you actually look down upon them.

You stopped in front of them, close enough that your knees grazed theirs, close enough to remind them they were at your mercy now—and they wanted it.

You grabbed Jay’s chin, his big, hopeful eyes staring right into yours now, “you made everything a competition so I wouldn’t focus on other.”

Jay opens his mouth to explain, but you’re already speaking again, “but, hey,” you said with a mocking little smile, “you liked me all along? That’s so cute, Jay. Really.” You leaned in, just enough that he could feel the words on his lips. “You think that gives you the right to own me?”

You don’t let Jay give you any weak excuses before turning to Jake, who looked as if he had trouble breathing, breath hitching even further when you grabbed his chin, his eyes resembling that of a yearner, and he leaned into your touch as if it was the most natural thing in this world.

“And you,” you murmured, brushing your thumb along his jaw. “You didn’t stop him, not even once. You let him fuck things up, made space for him to mess up because you thought maybe—what? If I got tired of his rivalry games, I’d eventually land in your lap?”

Jake didn’t answer but his throat worked hard like he was swallowing everything he wasn’t brave enough to say, even after all these years.

“You didn’t say anything,” you whispered, stepping between his knees, “you just watched me stay stuck, while you waited your turn.”

His fingers gripped the edge of the bed like he wanted to touch you, but didn’t dare, not now. You turned your face just slightly, letting your lips touch the curve of his cheek, your breath hot against his skin.

“And now?” you whispered, “now you both think you’ve earned me?”

Then you sat in between them, all three of you on the edge of the bed, breathing hard, but you knew you had to take control of this moment, at least for the upcoming minute, before you’d lose your mind yourself.

So, you looked at Jay, slowly. He felt it before he saw it—his body stiffening as you shifted, as your eyes locked onto his lips, which were red from how much he bit them. You leaned in, agonizingly slow and he tilted his head towards you without even realizing it, lips parting in anticipation.

But you stopped.

Close enough that your nose brushed his, close enough to feel his breath hot against your lips.

You didn’t kiss him.

You let the moment stretch, let him feel what it was like to want something and not get it. Not yet. Then you pulled back—just enough to make him exhale, to make the tension grow tighter inside his chest, and turned your head slowly toward Jake.

Jake was already watching you, completely till, like any movement might scare you away, or himself for that matter. His eyes dropped to your mouth the second you faced him, and you leaned in again. Same rhythm, you stopped just inches away, let your lips hover near his. You could feel his frustration in the way his jaw clenched, in the way his hands pressed into the bed beneath him like he was holding himself back with every muscle in his body (he was).

And then, you returned to your place in the middle, sitting straight, lips untouched and proud.

Their shoulders tensed on either side of you, they didn’t speak, they didn’t dare move an inch. And then, you waited just a beat, just a second, before you turned your head again, towards Jake this time, and slotted your lips completely against his soft, plush ones, the impact hard enough for every single nerve in your body to feel it.

Jake inhaled like you’d knocked the breath out of him, his hands going up, one curling around your waist, the other gripping your thigh as he kissed you back like a man undone, as if he’d been hungry for ages and you were the only elixir to his life.

His mouth moved against yours fast, hungry, almost pathetically so. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, tasting you, deepening it without asking, as if he finally knew he didn’t need to. You could feel the way his chest rose against yours, the low sound that rumbled in his throat like he couldn’t stand being patient anymore.

You almost didn’t notice Jay moving until the mattress shifted again, he was standing, about to walk away from a scene he couldn’t handle witnessing. The heartbreak in his silence was sharp, but he didn’t speak—he just started to turn.

But you weren’t done.

You broke the kiss with Jake, breath catching, and reached out blindly with your hand. Your fingers wrapped around Jay’s wrist and pulled. He turned just enough to look at you, surprised, you stood up faster than ever, and you kissed him.

Jay inhaled sharply, body jolting forward into yours like he’d been shocked, his hands flying to your waist on reflex. Your mouths crashed together like you’d both been waiting for permission you were too proud to ask for. He kissed you with everything he hadn’t said—all the tension, all the years, all the bitter denial turned into molten feelings in an instant.

His lips were hot and rough, and his kiss was nothing like Jake’s. Jake kissed like he wanted to take care of you, he wanted you. Jay kissed like he wanted to ruin you, he had to have you.

You groaned against him, your fingers threading into his hair, tugging just enough to make him growl low in his throat.

And god, you wanted more. You wanted to give him everything he’d been starving for—and take just as much back. His tongue dragged against yours and you met him with all the frustration he used to make you feel, all the obsession, all the nights you couldn’t stop thinking about him even when you hated him.

Jay kissed like he didn’t deserve you, like he was terrified it would be the last time. When you finally pulled away, lips red, pulse racing—you didn’t even hesitate.

You turned and met Jake’s eyes again, breathless, your body shaking between the two of them.

“I’m not choosing.”

And before you could react, before you could even breathe, they had pulled you down on the bed, kissing you—together.

Their mouths collided with yours, one from each side—Jake’s kiss was softer, slower, but no less desperate; Jay’s all fire and urgency, his fingers gripping your jaw like he needed to bury himself in your skin to feel more of you.

Jake’s hands slid up your sides, slipping beneath the fabric of your dress, fingertips skimming over bare skin like he couldn’t believe he was finally allowed to touch you, he kissed the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck—taking his sweet time, savoring every inch like it belonged to him with open mouthed kisses.

Jay wasn’t slow, he kissed lower, down your throat, biting just hard enough to make you gasp—and when he heard it, he did it again, just to make sure you let out those pretty sounds for him, because of him. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he dragged his lips along your collarbone, hot and open, like he was branding you into his territory with every movement.

Their hands met at your hips, each trying to claim space, with neither of them letting go for even a microsecond in fear of this to end.

You whimpered lowly, caught between the tension of two men who had craved your touch since ages.

Jake’s lips brushed your ear, and your spine straightened, his breath sent a shiver down your back, “you feel it too, princess, don’t you?” he whispered, voice so soft it didn’t even feel real. “What we’ve been holding in all this while?”

Jay kissed you again, lower now, mouth against the curve of your throat, his tongue pushed out just to taste you, hand squeezing your hip, firmer now, his thigh plush against yours, closer to yours. Your nerves lit up in sparks where his skin touched yours.

Every fucking inch of you was alive, you could feel it in your stomach, the butterflies inching down and straight into where you needed them the most.

“Still in this fucking dress,” Jay muttered suddenly, voice rough against your skin, kissing down to your shoulder as you gasped, “you wore this all night, didn’t you?”

Jake pulled back just far enough to look at you, gaze locked on the straps over your shoulders, “looked so pretty, so put together, like a prim proper princess,” he murmured, slipping one strap down slowly with his teeth, letting it fall off your shoulder, “you’ve been driving us insane.”

Their hands met again at your waist, both sets of fingers sliding down to the back of the dress, and in an unspoken rhythm, an understanding, they worked it down, tugging, peeling, unraveling you inch by inch.

“Zipped you up in the morning, hm yeah, it’s only fair I zip it down now,” Jay mumbled, doing exactly what he had said, knuckles brushing against your spine as Jake made you sit up, holding your waist.

The dress finally gave in, falling and pooling down around your waist, exposing your bare body to them, the cold breeze caressing your skin as the boys gasped, inhaling sharply at the sight in front of them, especially when you looked so pretty, all ready for them.

Jake’s hand stilled at your side as Jay’s mouth brushed your shoulder, eyes never leaving you.

“Fuck,” Jake said, looked fucked out, “you—god you’re perfect.”

Jay didn’t say anything at first—he just kissed your spine with his roughly bitten lips, a single, lingering press of his roughness between your shoulder blades that sent a shiver down your back. You trembled under their gaze, nerves worked up and raw, you could feel their eyes on every part of you, soaking you in, memorizing you.

It was unbearable and awfully addictive.

The way they looked at you—like they had discovered something sacred and ruined all at once, a gift heaven scent because you didn’t look anything less than a fallen angel to them, innocent eyes staring up, trying not to flutter them shut with the sensation of pure pleasure.

They didn’t say anything, it was silent, too silent for how loud their eyes were, burning their marks into your skin.

“Say something,” you whispered, barely able to speak, even more so when they looked at you like that, “please.”

Jake leaned in, kissing the side of your neck, “you’re going to be the death of me, you’re ruining us.”

Jay bit down lightly on your shoulder, “oh fuck no, we’re going to ruin her first.”

Your thighs pressed together out of instinct. Jake noticed, and so did Jay.

“Did you just try to hide from us?” Jake asked, almost amused, “that’s so fucking cute, like a kitten.”

Jay slid down next to you, thumbs pushing your thighs open again, “no hiding, baby, not from us.”

Jake reached between your legs, pressed his fingers just under your soaked panties, not even touching your clit—just resting there.

“You’re already dripping through these,” he muttered, “so wet and we haven’t even really started.” He leaned in and kissed your lips, slow and deep, then suddenly—he pulled back and spit right onto your mouth. You gasped, shocked at that, but you didn’t pull away. You just opened for him, and he leaned back in to kiss you again, licking it into your mouth like it was a reward.

“I’ve imagined this so many fucking times,” he said under his breath, brushing his nose against yours, “I’ve laid in bed, fists clenched, thinking about this exact moment.” His voice dropped lower, trembling. “You underneath me, so needy, so wet. Saying my name with that pretty voice of yours.”

Jay groaned low from between your thighs now, lifting his head just enough to speak, voice hoarse. “You don’t even know what this is doing to me.”

He kissed your thigh, opening his mouth enough to bite you, hard enough to make your legs twitch. “I hated watching you with him,” he muttered, hands gripping your hips harder now, “with any-fucking-one. You’d smile and I’d want to fucking put you on your knees and wipe it off.”

He kissed higher, his nose brushed the lace still clinging to you, even more so with the wetness pooling down there.

“Do you know how hard it was to pretend I didn’t want this?” he murmured, “to be near you, sitting right next to you, sleeping across from you, and not touch you.”

Jake was still watching your face, still holding your jaw like he wanted to frame you, like your pleasure was the only thing that mattered now, eyes dazed with your beauty, with how aroused he was just by kissing you.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he whispered, like it hurt to say out loud, “look at you, a sweet mess already, and we haven’t even taken these off yet.”

Jay’s voice rasped lower now, “god, I wanna rip them off.”

Jake bit his smile at your eyes going wide, glancing down, “be gentle, she’s a princess after all.”

Jay didn’t listen, he absolutely had zero patience left within him.

You gasped as your panties tore clean down the side without much effort, and Jay tossed the scraps to the floor without a glance. Jake reached for them, still warm and soaked, took a long sniff of the soiled fabric, groaning at the scent of your arousal before he wrapped them around your wrists.

“You’re ours now,” he murmured, possessiveness clear in his tone, “tied up in your own mess, hm?”

Your voice finally cracked out as you breathed harder, bare in front of them “please—”

Jay chuckled, shoving your thighs apart again, “hm? What are you begging for, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t reply, not when you were so overwhelmed with the two men and their scents that now clung to your body.

Jay leaned in again, dragging his tongue up your core without warning. A long, slow lick that ended with a kiss to your clit—soft, almost mocking the way you reacted to him. A moan of his name leaving your lips in a beautiful tune, reverberating the room.

“Is this what you wanted, baby?” he asked, “yeah? Us like this? Because I’ve been thinking about this since fucking uni.”

Jake’s eyes were fixed on your body, his hand moving to your tits, cupping one fully with his veiny hands, thumb flicking your nipple, “you used to sit across from me in class like it wasn’t killing me,” he muttered, “tight little skirts, and that fucking lip gloss you used—fuck.”

Jay hummed, his breath hot against your folds as he couldn’t keep his eyes off of your cunt, “you used to flirt without even realizing. Legs crossed, eyes wide, pretending you weren’t looking when we argued.”

“I was hard half the time I sat near you,” Jake gritted, “thought I was losing my mind.”

Jay’s voice was lower now, rougher, “I used to jerk off in the shower after group study. Every time you’d fight and shove me, touching me so carelessly, I’d go home and fucking lose it.”

You moaned, your back arching, tears pricking behind your eyes from how much it all burned, not just physically, but emotionally. You’d made them wait. You hadn’t known, but they had.

And now?

Now you were bound, naked, and trembling under them as if you belonged there, as if you belonged to them.

Jake leaned down and kissed your lips again, slow and claiming, while Jay bit the inside of your thigh in hopes of leaving marks.

“You’re not getting out of this,” Jake murmured, “we’re so going to wreck you.”

Jay groaned, dragging his tongue through your folds again—slow. “And we’re not going to be gentle at all, baby.”

“You’ll cry,” Jake whispered, “you’ll look so fucking stunning with your makeup ruined, and you’ll thank us for it.”

Jay pushed his tongue flat against your clit and you gasped—body jolting up, wrists straining against the soft fabric of your panties, but just when you thought he’d give you more—he pulled away again.

“No,” he said, voice laced with pure cruelty, that handsome smirk graced his face again, “not yet.”

Jake’s slender fingers replaced his tongue, slipping through your folds but still refusing to enter you. Just circling around, smearing your slick juices everywhere but where you needed it.

You whimpered, thighs shaking, “Jake, please—”

He leaned down, nose brushing yours, almost romantic the way he moved around you, “please what?”

“Touch me.”

Jay chuckled, “fuck, our prim proper princess is breaking.”

Jake nipped your bottom lip, “not yet. We haven’t even started.”

Then—his fingers slapped your cunt. A sharp, wet smack that made your hips jerk again, your breath hitched, and your thighs trembled from the shock of it.

“Say it again,” Jake ordered, “say you want it, tell me you need it.”

“I—I need,” You could barely speak, could barely think, “please, just ruin me.”

Jay groaned, “fuck.”

Jake grunted, “oh, we will.”

And their mouths were on you again.

Jake kissed you like he was claiming you, as he wanted to from so long, tongue slipping between your lips, one hand still wrapped around your throat, the other teasing your nipple until it hardened against his palm. You could feel him groaning into your mouth, grinding his thigh between yours like he was the one losing control (read: he was).

Jay’s tongue was back at your pussy, slow. He licked you like he was angry, like an animal, he was punishing your clit with his mouth, sucking hard before pulling away just long enough to make you choke out a sob, then diving in again.

You cried out, the sound stuttering between Jake’s teeth as he swallowed it down with another kiss, smirking at you.

Jay pulled back slightly, breath hot and ragged against your slick cunt, “god, she’s so fucking wet. Jake, feel her.”

Jake’s hand slid down your body without hesitation, dragging two fingers through your folds, groaning when they came back soaked and glistening. He brought them up to his mouth and sucked—slow and filthy.

“Sweet as fuck, thought about this so much you have no idea, no fucking idea,” he muttered.

You whimpered, bucking your hips helplessly against Jay’s mouth again, but his hands held you down tight.

“Still so greedy,” Jay said, his voice deep with hunger, “you’re trembling, baby. Gonna cry now, hm?”

Jake brushed the back of his knuckles across your cheek, his tone softening but no less dominant, “you look like you’re gonna fall apart. That’s how bad you want it, huh?”

You nodded, unable to speak, barely breathing, your body burning wherever they touched you, still fully clothed as you lay in front of them with nothing on.

Jake leaned in, “good, because we’re not stopping.”

Jay dragged his tongue in slow, torturous circles around your clit, going down, then back up, his fingers dug into your thighs to keep them from clamping shut with the sensation.

You gasped again, a sound so high and wrecked it barely sounded like you, no one’s ever made you feel like this.

“Look at her,” Jake murmured, “eyes already glassy. Legs shaking, you’re like a doll, princess.”

“She’s close,” Jay chuckled, “already? That needy, huh?”

“No,” Jake shook his head, “she doesn’t get to cum yet.”

Jay immediately pulled back, lips wet, chin slick, eyes wild with need and your hips chased him instinctively, but he just laughed low and cruel.

“Aw, did you actually think we’d let you finish?”

You whimpered, you whimpered hands, still bound in your ruined panties, pulled at the restraint.

“You’re not coming,” Jake whispered, licking into your mouth again, he was a fucking dog the way he licked you all over, “not until you’re crying for it.”

Jay’s thumb slid over your clit once, making your whole body jolt, and you bit back another whimper.

“I want her begging,” he said, “properly, on her knees, that pretty face covered in spit and tears, wanted to do that since uni.”

Jake smirked, “we’ll get her there.”

And still, they didn’t stop touching you. Jake’s mouth returned to your throat, sucking, biting down just enough to make your eyes roll back in pure ecstasy. Jay’s lips caressed the inside of your thigh sweetly, as if apologizing in advance for the stuff he was about to do to you—but his eyes? They were anything but sorry.

They were starving and you were already wrecked with one look from him.

Jay’s lips were swollen now, glistening with your slick. He sat back up on his heels between your legs, panting slightly, his hands resting on your thighs like they belonged there—like he owned them.

Jake hovered above you, one knee pressing between your legs, the other hand trailing across the expanse of your ribs, grazing under your breast as he watched you try to pull your knees together again.

“You don’t even know how pretty you look like this,” Jake said, voice lower now, heavier with his deep breathing, “completely spread, soaked, crying, and still begging like a little kitten.”

“I’m—” you tried to speak, but the words stuck in your throat. All you could do was shake your head, helplessly, breath hitching.

“Don’t you dare shake your head at me, baby,” Jake murmured, brushing a tear off your cheek with his thumb, “you’ve been teasing us for years.”

Jay leaned down again, kissing your hip. “Years,” he echoed, lips soft but voice hard. “In that little white dress at graduation, every fucking party, every pool day, every time you got close to us, teased us during this trip, the kisses, the fucking touches, you knew what you were doing, right, kitten?”

His teeth grazed the inside of your thigh and you gasped, the sting making your knees twitch again.

“We should’ve taken you apart back then,” Jake groaned.

Jay pulled your legs farther apart and pressed a single, rough kiss right above your clit. You whimpered, again, and Jake licked your neck as if following some rhythm, his fingers stroking the side of your tit while your tied hands trembled above your head.

“You’re going to give us everything now,” Jake whispered.

“I am—” you gasped.

“Not yet, but you will,” Jay said, biting lower now, marking you all over without thinking twice, “you think this is about making you feel good? No, sweetheart. This is about us breaking that little control you used to hold over us, the one you’ve been using the past few days.”

Jake pressed two fingers into your mouth. “Open.”

You obeyed after hesitation, tongue curling around them, lips closing, eyes wide as you looked up at him like a broken doll already.

Jake groaned, “fucking hell, look at her, taking it so well for me.”

Jay kissed your clit again, softer this time, almost tender like he let his feelings take over, but his hands still held your thighs apart with firm, bruising grips.

“Keep those pretty legs open,” he said darkly, “if you try to close them, I’ll tie them up too.”

You whimpered around Jake’s fingers, tongue working instinctively, your hips twitching every time Jay’s lips brushed you but didn’t stay.

Jake leaned closer, “you want us to ruin you, don’t you, baby?”

You tried to nod, mouth full of his fingers. He slid his fingers deeper into your mouth, holding your jaw, smiling when your throat flexed as you swallowed around them.

Jay’s tongue licked a slow circle around your clit again, and you nearly choked on Jake’s fingers, gasping, legs trembling violently now.

Jake pulled back, eyes dark with hunger, “you’re so close, aren’t you?”

“Please,” you whispered, finally able to speak, voice completely wrecked. “I need it, I can’t—”

Jake slapped your thigh, not too hard, but hard enough to make you freeze midway your speech.

“You don’t cum until we say,” he growled.

Jay kissed up your waist, finally letting you rest—just for a second. His fingers traced the curve of your ass, obsessed.

“She’s so fucking good for us,” he muttered.

Jake’s mouth returned to your ear, “you’ve never been touched like this, have you? Not properly, not like actual two fucking men do for their girl.”

You shook your head, their girl, you were ruined for anyone else and they hadn’t even fucked you yet.

“No one’s ever made you beg, huh, kitten?”

You shook again, your eyes filling with tears again at the tension, the ache, the heat between your legs that still had no release.

“Say it.”

“No one’s ever—ever made me feel like this.”

Jay bit your waist, “fucking knew it.”

Jake kissed the corner of your lips. “You’re going to remember this for the rest of your fucking life.”

They shifted, Jake moving down your body, his tongue tracing the valley between your breasts, his fingers still gripping your wrists. Jay leaned in and kissed your temple before kissing your neck again, slow.

Then Jake reached your thighs, and he spit again—right onto your clit.

You cried out.

Jay held your legs open, and Jake rubbed the wetness in slow circles, never enough pressure, “still not coming, darling.”

You sobbed, tears cascading down the curve of your cheek with how frustrated and turned on you were.

Jay leaned in and licked them right off of your cheek, “god, you cry so pretty,” he mumbled against your skin, savouring the salty taste of your frustration.

“So wet, so close, hm? Still not allowed to cum,” Jake said, dazed.

They were destroying you, but you grabbed Jay’s shirt, looking at him with innocent eyes, trying your best to get something out of the two men, Jake only scoffed against your thigh, smiling right after.

“Yeah, baby?” Jay asked, leaning closer, pressing another kiss onto your lips, and you sighed sweetly, trying your best to unbutton his shirt with your tied up wrists, barely giving you space to move, your fingers fumble with each button.

“You that desperate to see me, sweetheart?” he whispered, brushing his nose against yours. “Is that why you’re still trying, even when we’ve got you all tied up and shaking?”

Jake kissed your upper thigh with a chuckle, dangerously close to your clit, which felt more sensitive each passing serving, “she’s always been a greedy lil kitty,” he muttered, biting down marks over where Jay left his own ones, “always trying to be in control, even now.”

“Ah—” you looked at them with angry tears, not willing to beg for the release, so you did something that you knew would get them riled up, “will you just talk or actually fucking d—do something about it,” you mumbled, groaning midway as Jake licked you up.

Jake didn’t bother replying, not when you were such a brat, instead, he just moaned into your folds as he finally, finally dragged his tongue up your slit and latched onto your clit with precision, as if he’d been practising to do so.

You gasped, your back arching in the process to get yourself even closer to Jake, legs trembling with need.

“There she is,” Jay murmured, voice low as he watched Jake devour you, “all those bratty lil’ comments until someone shoves their tongue down there, huh?”

For an answer, he only got a broken moan from you as Jake devoured your essence as if he was a man starved, tongue flattening against you, nose brushing your clit, dipping into your folds as he licked you up and down, your hips jerking up in the process in an insatiable need.

Jay leaned closer, brushing a knuckle against your cheek, “this what you needed? After all that attitude? After years of acting like you weren’t just dying for one of us to ruin you the second you stepped into the villa?”

“You’re delusional,” you whispered, breathless, sprawled like a princess and Jay chuckled, untying your wrists now.

“Am I really?” Jay smirked, “because I remember that one night, senior year, academic week. You walked out of the library with your hair a mess, that navy hoodie falling off your shoulder, and I swear to fucking god—” He grabbed your chin, “I almost dragged you back inside just to shut you up.”

The second your hands were free, you grabbed his belt, making Jay shake his head with a smirk, “fucking knew it.”

The two only moved back, making you whine, as they undressed themselves in the dim room, the barely there golden lights only accentuating their figures. You had gone completely silent, eyes flicking from one man to the other, especially when their arms flexed with each movement, faint abs on display.

Then their veiny hands moved to their belts, making you gulp.

Jake slid his leather belt from the loops with a sharp snap that made your thighs clench, his eyes on you as he did so. Jay was slower, watching you with patience as he unbuckled the belt and let it fall to the floor, then stepped out of his pants without taking his eyes off your face.

A low whine left your lips yet again the second you saw them—their hardened cocks, thick and veiny, waiting to ruin you by all means, already dripping with precum on the tip.

You were quiet now, so quiet.

It was as if your body understood something your mind hadn’t comprehended yet, it simply couldn’t.

Jake was the first to move—kneeling on the bed again, sliding up behind you. His hands dragged over your waist, fingers splayed across your stomach as he pulled you flush into his chest.

“You stopped talking, princess,” he murmured into your ear, lips brushing your skin, “not bratty anymore? Need my cock inside your sweet cunt, hm?”

Jay came around the front, “maybe she’s just finally realized what she’s about to get.” He said, fingers wrapped around his cock, so close to your lips, which parted with anticipation, or the lack of breath, even more so when you felt Jake’s cock prodding your soaked folds from behind you.

“You said you wanted us to do something about it,” Jay whispered, “now we’re going to see if you can fucking take it.”

Jake shifted behind you, nudging your legs wider with his knees as one hand reached down to properly guide himself between your thighs. He wasn’t teasing anymore, he was shaking, from self control, from need, as if he’d push into you without any hesitation now.

His cock slid between your folds, dragging through the slick mess, he groaned low, deep, grounding himself with one hand gripping on your hip.

“She’s soaked,” he muttered, “so fucking ready.”

Jay knelt in front of you now, one hand curling under your chin to lift your face.

“You’re gonna let me fuck that mouth while he fills you from behind,” he said, thumb stroking your swollen bottom lip, “you gonna take both of us, princess?”

You nodded, dazed, but Jay just chuckled. “No, baby. Go on, say it.”

“I want both of you, p—please,” you managed to breath out.

Jake slid into you in one slow, relentless thrust, and you cried out loud with your body jolting forward at the impact, the stretch, the need and desperation clear with his thrust.

Jay groaned like that did something to him, like your voice alone was enough to fuel him. He moved forward, pressing the tip of his cock against your lips.

“Then open up, baby,” he groaned, “and let us take over, yeah?”

You did, as Jake pistoned deep again, grunting as your walls clenched around him, so inviting, so desperate. He was thicker than you had imagined—stretching you open inch by inch. His hands resting around your hips, holding you still as he began to fuck you hard from behind.

Jay slid into your mouth at the same time, his fingers in your hair, guiding your head as you sucked him down with a whimper.

“Fuck, look at her,” Jake panted behind you, “letting out the prettiest sounds and both her holes are full.”

Jay moaned above you, hips snapping forward. “She’s dripping around your cock while her mouth’s choking on mine, such a sweet lil’ slut for us.”

You couldn’t speak, not with Jay’s cock pushing deep into your throat, but the moans vibrating from your chest told them everything, how his words made you even crazier if that was possible, and you were scared of how loud the moans and the noise of skin slapping were, what if someone would hear?

Your hands clenched around the sheets, your body shaking between them, and they fucked you like they were in competition, like your pleasure was a war they were both determined to win.

Jake bent forward, breath warm on your skin, “let go, baby,” he whispered, “we’re not stopping ‘til we hear you scream.” He said, accent stronger than ever.

Jay groaned as your lips tightened, your throat flexing around him, trying to adjust to his length, “you’re close, aren’t you?” he gritted, “you’re gonna cum with both of us inside you, huh?”

You whimpered, trying to nod as every nerve in your body lit up, stretched between them, full and desperate, a deep sensation in the bottom of your abdomen only indicating what was to come.

“Then do it,” Jay ordered, voice almost breaking, “show us how ruined you are, how desperate and needy you are.”

Jake’s hand slipped between your legs, rubbing your clit in fast, firm circles.

And that’s all it took.

Your eyes rolled back, eyelids fluttering shut with how close you were, practically screaming round Jay’s cock, your whole body trembling violently as Jake fucked you through it, groaning as you clenched hard around him.

“Go on, princess.”

“Such a good girl.”

“Our little slut.”

“Doing so well, hm?”

Their voices blended into one with their praises molded into degradation and you felt yourself losing your mind as the orgasm washed you over, you needed a stronger word than ecstasy for what you felt, the room was almost like mist with the essence of all of yours need, your hunger, which wasn’t satiated yet.

Jay pulled out just in time to hear your full scream echoing in the room—and he too came with a choked groan across your lips, spilling hot and messy down your chin as you gasped for breath.

Jake slammed in one more time, moaning, and then you felt him cum inside you, deep and twitching, heat flooding your cunt with his release.

They didn’t move, didn’t breathe, just held you between them completely undone, experiencing euphoric sensations all over.

“You okay?” Jay asked, resting his forehead on yours, as you tried to nod.

“Sure, princess?” Jake caressed your spine, sliding his cock out as you suddenly felt empty, “you know we’re not done, right?”

“W—what?” Your eyes widened, “but you already—”

Jay’s palm smoothed over your thigh as he shifted over you. “You didn’t think we were just gonna stop after one, did you?”

Jake’s laugh was soft, almost wicked, “that was just the first course, baby.”

Jay kissed your temple, slow and reverent, even as his cock hardened again beneath you, “we told you we’d ruin you, you want us both, hm? Then take it like a good lil’ doll you are.”

You gasped as Jake kissed your neck, head falling back into his touch.

“There she is, that’s my girl,” he murmured against your pulse, “so responsive, even when you’re shaking.”

You were trembling now, thighs still slick with Jake’s cum, and yet your hips shifted instinctively as if your craving towards them was endless, it’s the greed they talked about, the lust you couldn’t control.

Jay helped you lift, just slightly, guiding you up on shaky knees. He lay beneath you now, flat on his back, his cock glistening against his abdomen. You were straddling him again, facing him, but your legs were weaker, spreading wider as you looked down at him.

Jay’s hands cupped your ass, “you want more, sweetheart?” he asked, tone warm but heavy, “then be a good girl and take me again.”

He helped you sink down on his cock, which was even thicker than that of Jake, your walls clenching around him uncontrollably, another raw moan leaving your lips.

Jay hissed, eyes screwed shut for a moment, as he feels what he’s wanted for years, you. “So fucking tight, you’re still so—fuck, wet.”

Jake was behind you now, kneeling between Jay’s spread legs, his hands slid up your sides, then curved around your waist as he pressed a kiss behind your ear.

“Now breathe, princess,” he whispered, “and don’t let go of him, yeah?”

You didn’t understand at first, only focusing on his breathy voice and plush lips, alongside Jay’s cock that had you stuffed to the brim, you didn’t understand it, not until you felt the blunt head of Jake’s cock pressing against your entrance—against the spot already filled by Jay.

Your body froze, tingling with fear? Anticipation? Filth? You weren’t sure anymore, “oh my fucking god—”

“Relax,” Jay said, voice low, thumbs circling on your clit, “you’re okay, darling, we’ve got you.”

Jake didn’t rush, he kissed the sweet spot on your neck again, then dragged his tongue over the bruise he’d left, before he started to press his cock in.

Beside Jay, in the same hole.

You cried out, your forehead falling to Jay’s neck as the burn of the stretch came instantly, his necklace pressing into the skin of your chest, leaving a mark, an imprint.

“F—fuck wait, I—”

“Shhh,” Jake whispered, one hand stroking your tits, the other bracing your hip, “you can do it. Let me in, baby, you’re my princess, aren’t you?”

Jay didn’t move, letting you adjust, eyes fixated on you, and how you bit his clavicle like a kitten trying to adjust to the pain, slowly realizing that it’s pleasure instead. His hands gripped your thighs now, holding you steady as Jake inched in alongside him.

Tears started streaming down your face yet again, “please,” you mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

“Please? Want us to breed your little cunt? Fuck you dumb till you can’t walk? Can’t speak?” Jay groaned, snapping his hips up harshly as you held onto him tighter, nails digging into his skin.

Jake almost growled low in your ear, a sound more animal than man, “look at you, fucking crying because it feels too good. You were made for this, weren’t you, baby? For us?”

You couldn’t answer, the stretch was unbearable, so tight, so full, but their words made it worse, made it better. Made you wetter, somehow, your body betraying you in the most delicious way possible, Jay was still buried to the hilt underneath you, warm and thick, and Jake was inching in behind him, slow but relentless, like he knew the second he bottomed out, you’d lose every last piece of your mind.

Jake kissed the back of your neck again, softer this time, “just a little more, take it, princess. Let me all the way in. Let us ruin you.”

But then, he was in, bottoming out fully, two cocks snug inside your cunt as if they were made for it, the imprint of bulge clear on your lower abdomen, pressed against Jay at the moment.

“Jay—Jake,” you cried out, and they only thrusted in harder, their cocks dragging against each other as they were buried tight, the friction almost obscene, as if straight out of a smutty little novel.

“Fucking look at her,” Jake grunted, hand around your throat, gripping you firm enough to make you feel it, “crying while getting fucked like a whore, huh? You love this, don’t you? Love being our perfect little fucktoy?”

“She’s so tight,” Jay hissed, his teeth clenching as he thrust up again, hips jerking, “like her pretty cunt was made to be split open like this, just for us, huh, princess?”

You gasped, which almost came out like a broken plea, when they moved again, hips snapping in a brutal rhythm that knocked the breath out of you. Your whole body jolted forward at the intensity, pinned between their bodies, unable to move, to breathe.

“You hear that?” Jake’s hand slid down, smacking your clit harshly before rubbing fast, filthy circles on it, his rings cold against your skin, “that wet fucking sound? That’s you, princess. Dripping all over our cocks. Can’t even take us without making a fucking mess.”

Jay’s hand found your face, fingers gripping your jaw, forcing your eyes open. “You better be looking at me when you cum. Let me see what my perfect slut looks like when she falls apart for us.”

Your breath hitched yet again, and you weren’t sure if you were breathing anymore because that’s what it felt like, like you were cracking down the middle from being stuffed so full. The lewd drag of their cocks inside you, pushing against each other, made every nerve ending scream.

Jake leaned closer, lips brushing your ear, his voice sultry, “you feel how deep we are, baby? Look—” his hand flattened over your belly, pressing down just above your cunt, and you saw it, the bulge visible and twitching with every thrust. “That’s us. We’re in so fucking deep.”

Your head dropped back, a sweet cry leaving your mouth as you chanted their names like a bloody mantra that was gonna keep you alive.

“Shit—she’s doing it again,” Jay grunted, sweat forming at his temples as he snapped his hips up harder, sharper, “squeezing so tight as if she wants to be split apart.”

“Say it,” Jake ordered, thumb brushing your lower lip before slipping inside, making you suck around it while your eyes rolled back, his other hand pinching your nipple harshly, “tell us what you are.”

You choked around his thumb, words slurred and broken, “Yours. I’m—fuck—I’m your whore, your toy—please, please—”

They didn’t stop, they didn’t care about the wedding, the guests, the door being unlocked and just shut. They only cared about having you, listening to your pretty moans, ruining you in the way they’ve been dreaming about.

It’s almost surreal, the two possessive men who wanted you all to themselves were now sharing you, just so they could touch you, feel you, and take you in a way no one else will ever be able to.

“Good girl,” Jay mumbled.

“Pretty slut,” Jake rasped out.

You were overstimulated by now, gasping, moaning, screaming their names, and they loved every second of it, giving you eargasm with how they groaned your name under their breath too, pushing into you deeper by each thrust, reaching the good spots you didn’t even know existed.

Your body didn’t know where to focus—on Jay’s mouth kissing you through your moans, or Jake’s tongue trailing a shiver down your spine, on Jay’s fingers rubbing fast, brutal circles over your abused clit, or Jake’s teeth biting down on the slope of your shoulder, marking you like he wanted everyone to know who you belong to.

Jay’s head fell back on the pillow with a deep groan, his voice breaking. “You’re fucking pulsing—fuck, you’re squeezing us.”

Jake gritted out, “I can feel you inside her, fuck—she’s gonna cum again.”

You screamed, the knot in your stomach tighter than ever, no words were spoken, just the sound of you falling apart on their cocks as your orgasm crashed over you, your cunt seizing around them, milking them both as your body shivered, vision going dark as they filled you up with their warmth, cum oozing out of your cunt.

And before you knew it, you were squirting all over their lengths, giving them exactly what they needed, unholy pleasure. Then it was silent for a few seconds as you laid down on Jay’s chest, exhausted.

“Holy fuck—” Jay let out.

Your cunt squeezed them tighter, you had no control over yourself now, and they looked at you, mesmerized, as you let out your juices in slow pulses.

“She’s—Jesus fucking christ, baby, you’re—” Jake marvelled, holding your waist as he slid out to observe your swollen pussy, dripping all over Jay’s thighs now.

You moaned weakly, barely able to speak, face buried in the crook of Jay’s neck, “I—I can’t stop,” you whispered, breath shaking, “fucking hell, I can’t—”

Jay exhaled against your ear, the sound heavy with disbelief and pure arousal. Then, slowly, he shifted around.

“Let me see her,” Jake murmured, eyes solely on you.

Jay nodded once and slid out, making you gasp at the emptiness as your swollen, soaked cunt clenched around nothing now, and then Jay was easing you onto your back.

Jake sat beside you, breath hitched, while Jay stayed kneeling between your legs, both of them staring down like they couldn’t quite believe what they’d done.

You were a vision of pure, sacred destruction with your slick thighs, cunt glistening, flushed and twitching with every aftershock. Their cum poured slowly from your abused hole in thick trails, pooling beneath you.

“Good lord,” Jay muttered under his breath.

Jake just stared, jaw clenched, “she’s dripping everywhere, fuck.”

Jay reached out, almost without thinking, and spread your folds open with two fingers, watching more of their release slide out of you beautifully.

You whimpered, breath hitching, every nerve lit and tingling with how sensitive you were now. You tried to close your legs, shy with their predatory gaze, but they didn’t let you.

Jake’s hand moved to your thigh, “no, let us see you, princess.”

Jay leaned down, dragging his gaze from your fluttering cunt to your ruined expression. “You’re still clenching,” he murmured, almost in awe.

“She can’t stop,” Jake added, brushing hair from your damp face, “poor baby, body’s gone dumb for us, hm? Look at you, kitten.”

You stared up at them, eyes glassy, lips parted, unable to form a single word, mind hazy, but they didn’t need one.

Your body was saying everything.

Jay’s fingers slid back inside you like nothing had changed, like you weren’t already trembling and soaked with their cum and your tears. Your back arched yet again, a sob escaped your lips as you choked out, “I—I can’t, not again, please!”

Jake leaned over you, breath brushing your cheek as his veiny hand trailed between your thighs, “yeah?” he chuckled, “then why are you still dripping, baby?”

You whimpered, thighs twitching, but there was escape for you—Jay’s hand held your hip down, and Jake’s thumb was already pressing circles into your swollen clit as you moaned.

“You say you can’t,” Jay muttered, eyes locked on where you clenched around him, “but your body’s still begging.”

Jake laughed, “she doesn’t know what she needs.”

Jay smirked, knowing that they weren’t gonna stop, not tonight, as he continued saying in his deep, attractive voice.

“Oh, she doesn’t, hm? Then it’s a good thing we do.”

Chapter 13: The end or the beginning?

You lost the count of the amount of orgasms your body oh so beautifully provided Jay and Jake with, and now? You were catching your breath as the boys now sat down beside you, just clad in their loose basketball shorts, hair messier than ever, and lazy smirks still plastered on their faces.

“You okay? Breathing, hm?” Jake asked, mindlessly brushing his knuckles against the expanse of your thigh.

“God, barely,” you huffed out.

“Y’know, you look so pretty like this,” Jay smirked, “all ruined for us.”

“Oh my—don’t even start,” you mumbled, too exhausted to actually do something about it.

But despite their teasing, they were gentle with you now, and you dare didn’t look them in the eye, which was pooling with the essence of love.

Jake pressed his plush lips to your clavicle, “you’re glowing, princess.”

“Oh, she’s wrecked,” Jay said, not hiding how proud he was.

“Stop talking, both of you,” you muttered, hiding your face with the fluffed up pillow.

Jake chuckled for a second before asking, “can you move?”

“Ah, absolutely not,” you groaned.

“Yeah, exactly,” Jay smirked, “alight, it’s bath time now, so.” He dragged, brows raised.

“Huh? What bath time?” You were lost, peeking out from under the pillow.

Jay was already headed towards the bathroom, finally with a mission to make use of the massive bathtub which no one had used up until now, “you really think we won’t take care of you before you sleep, hm?”

Jake was quick to push his arms under your legs and back, scooping you in his hold as you yelped, holding his nape for balance, your cheek pressed into his shoulder while he cooed at your adorable antics, “you’ll thank us later.”

“You’re too pleased with yourself,” you let out, a pout forming at your lips.

“And you love it,” Jake retorted, grinning handsomely.

The tub was nearly full in no time, the water steaming gently as Jay knelt beside it, testing the temperature with a look of pure precision, “perfect timing, hop in, love.”

Jake set you down into the water with all the care in the world, guiding you between his legs as he slid in behind you. The warmth rushed over your skin and made you sigh in bliss, your whole body drooping in relief, his arms draping around your waist lazily.

Jay was quick to grab a washcloth, easing your nerves with how gently he cleaned you, as if he knew the exact massage points, where he lingered to sooth your pain, making you sigh yet again in Jake’s embrace, even more so when Jay caressed your ribs, the expanse of your skin, even the curve of your thigh.

“There we go,” Jay murmured as you whimpered lightly, more from tenderness than pain now, “easy there, baby. You’ve done enough tonight.”

“You were perfect,” Jake whispered, his touch on your knuckles was loving, and you weren’t entirely sure if the warmth you were feeling now was due to the temperature of the water.

Jay was observant, eyes trailing to capture every single drop of water on you, and how you still managed to look beautiful, effortlessly so, even after the swell job they did, ruining you in bed.

“Still shy after everything we just did?” He teased, rinsing the cloth in the water before sliding it along your shoulder, the act more intimate than everything you did prior.

“She’s our sweet girl,” Jake said quietly, nuzzling into your neck in the manner that faintly reminded you of a puppy, “glowing so pretty after we’ve had our way with her.”

“I hate you both,” you mumbled, voice muffled where your cheek was tucked into Jake’s chest again.

“Yeah? We love you too,” both boys managed to let out at the same time.

You didn’t reply, just bathed in the warmth and the little feeling of giddiness bubbling through you. The boys didn’t mind, not when you closed your eyes and almost drifted off to sleep right there. It was easy for them to caress your cheek, waking you up enough for them to dry you off, helping you back to the bed.

You faintly remember them arguing over who’s t-shirt and shorts you’ll be wearing, but they had a truce when Jay put his shirt over you, and Jake slid his shorts up your legs. It was blurry as they made you drink water, treating you like royalty, especially when you were caught in the middle of the two men who held you close, whispering praises in a quiet murmur.

“I can’t believe you’re real,” Jake whispered, eyes pooling with emotions even he couldn’t decipher.

“She’s real,” Jay said, pressing his lips against your cheek, “and sore.”

“Shut up,” you shifted, your lips twitching, which made the two laugh.

Their touches were endless, luring you into the dreamland as the room was now filled with the scent of your strawberry body wash, and soon, both the boys were nestled close to your neck, breathing you in as they slept, probably the best sleep they’ve ever had.

You weren’t sure what stirred you awake a few hours later—maybe the sunrise blending softly into the room, maybe your own heartbeat, which was finally at peace now, which rocketed yet again, observing the two lovesick men clinging onto your frame like they physically need you to stay sane, even in their dreams.

You stayed like that for a few minutes, deeply observing Jay’s long eyelashes, a pout on his lips as he slept, and the heart shaped birthmark which you had kissed last night. He looked beautiful. Then you turned to stare at Jake, his hair looked bouncier than ever, slight freckles gracing his cheekbones, and lips that mumbled something incoherent even in sleep.

It was a pretty place to be in, between two stunning men who were pining over you like the world would end if they didn’t have you, and you clicked your tongue. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to have them chase you, right?

Carefully, you slipped from between them, biting back a laugh as Jake groaned in protest, blindly petting the empty space your body had left. You paused, watching as both of them shifted slightly, their foreheads nearly touching now. Like magnets, drawn to each other, reminding you of the first day you saw them cuddling.

You walked quietly across the room, grabbed the hotel notepad from the desk, and scribbled something before rushing to the bathroom, getting ready for the flight that was about to take you home today, as Karina knew, and so did the others—but not these two.

And maybe, you just wanted them to actually show if they want you, which goes beyond chasing you in a villa, in a room you shared. So, with two soft pecks on each of their cheeks, you dragged your luggage out, leaving them behind.

It was only when the afternoon rolled in an hour later, the two stirred in their sleep.

Jake woke with a sharp inhale, arm stretching across the mattress in a daze, searching for you unconsciously. His hand met nothing but cool sheets, no trace of you.

“Y/N?” he mumbled, still groggy, voice thick, and plush lips dry. He blinked at the space beside him—empty, pillows still in their place.

Jay moved beside him, groaning, “what—?”

“She’s not here—she’s not,” Jake sat up fast now, the fog of sleep yanked from his mind in a split second.

Jay rubbed at his eyes, still slow, until he glanced over and saw the empty space where you’d been, “wait. What do you mean not here?”

Jake was already climbing out of bed in search of you, “She’s not in the bathroom either.”

“Maybe she went downstairs,” Jay said, but even as he said it, his voice faltered with concern, “or—fuck, check the patio. Maybe she—went for a walk?”

They moved like a spark had been lit under them, crashing through the hallway barefoot and disoriented, not caring about being shirtless, again, not caring about anything but you, especially after the night.

“Y/N?” Jake’s voice echoed off the walls.

Jay flung open the guest room doors, startling Winter and Yunjin out of their sleep, who had slept after saying bye to you just a few minutes back.

“Is she with you?” he demanded.

Winter sat up, eyes wide, “what? No—she left for the airport, didn’t she?”

“What?” Jake breathed out, a look of horror clear on his face.

“She said goodbye a while back,” Yunjin added, rubbing her eyes. “Didn’t she tell you guys?”

“No,” Jay snapped, spinning around, “she didn’t.”

Jake ran a hand through his hair, panic growing like a storm, with his heartbeat rising, “she wouldn’t just leave. She wouldn’t—she didn’t even say goodbye.”

They tore through the villa. Kitchen? Empty. Garden paths? Silent. The pool deck? Absolutely trace of you. Your toothbrush was gone, your suitcases? Gone. And they both? Absolutely batshit crazy. They didn’t want it to end, not so fast.

Jay ended up back in the room, chest tight, hands planted on the edge of the mattress like it could bring him some sort of support.

Then he saw it.

A single folded slip of paper, placed neatly in the center of the pillow where your head had been.

“Jake.”

Jake ran in, still breathless, “what?”

Jay didn’t speak, just held out the note with a clenched jaw and Jake unfolded it with shaky fingers, his pulse roaring in his ears as his eyes scanned your handwriting, and there it was.

The final line, in your usual messy scrawl.

They read it, and Jay exhaled, but it didn’t calm him. Jake scanned through, both looking up at each other with blank faces.

And then, their own lips twitched, smirking as they rushed to get their own belongings packed, shoving clothes into their bags, grabbing whatever clothes they found first, focused like men on a big mission, looking for flight tickets on a whim, a girl to chase, as your note laid proud on the bed, saying:

Catch me if you can before I change my mind. — Yours (maybe?)

THANK YOU FOR READING!

THIS FIC WAS POSTED IN TWO PARTS AS TUMBLR DOES NOT ALLOW POSTS WITH MORE THAN A 1000 BLOCKS!

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