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tonycries · 11 months ago

Text

Long Overdue!

Synopsis. Just cóckwarming? Funny, you’ll see who breaks first - him or your poor pússy.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, cóckwarming, creampíes, puníshments, REALLY NÉEDY BOYS, breéding, MAJOR overstím, slight exhíbitionism (Toji’s), spítting, they bég, pússy-slappíng, cúmplay, absolutely ruíning Ryomen Sukuna, marathon séx, chokíng, jealousy (Toji’s side), mean Geto, spànking, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k (sowwy)

A/N. I would say have a lovely week but then I remembered that leaks are coming out so…<3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 47 min.

“B-but, doll…” Toji’s groaning in that raggedly sweet tone, voice cracking ever-so-slightly when your plush walls gift him with another unabashed squeeze. Still unmoving. Torturous. “You’re actin’ like I can’t feel the way that needy pussy of yours is just cryin’ f’me.”

It hasn’t even been an hour, and oh god - Toji had absolutely no idea how he was going to make it out of this alive. No clue as to how he was going to break out of these extra heavy-duty handcuffs customized for him. To fuck up into your heavenly cunt the way you deserved.

The way he deserved.

“Sh-shut up.” you scoff, looking down at where you had him pinned down messily on the silken sheets. “Before I put a muzzle on you, too, after that stunt you pulled-”

“Anything.” he’s cutting you off. Syrupy mind just a bit too hazy with the feeling of his weepy tip kissing up against your g-spot and being able to do nothing about it. “Anything oh anything- muzzle me, tie me up- ngh fuckin’ call that loser coworker of yours and make me apologize for all I care. Just needa-”

Toji’s breath hitches when he squirms pathetically underneath you, biceps bulging when he pulls at those fuzzy pink restraints tied to the bedposts.

“Jus- want you to- fuckin’-” You’re squealing when you feel his thick, muscled thighs flex to plant his feet flat on the plush mattress, toned pelvis rippling. Body bowing up, up, up- “-move!”

It’s barely even a half-thrust, a grind - nothing in comparison to those long, thorough drags of Toji’s cock that you were used to. But the feeling of your every corner being stretched out so full after staying still for so long has you huffing and puffing in a way that has his swollen cock growing even girthier.

“It’s been ngh-” you reach blearily for the phone at your bedside table to look at the time. “-47 minutes! Y-you don’t get to act this way, y’know. Not after you were so rude to my coworker when meeting him earlier.” But it comes out more breathless than you intended.

Toji quirks a proud brow, cockiness seeping into his words now that he had you exactly where he wanted after so long. “No, I wasn’t.”

You’re babbling needily when your boyfriend’s reaching up to kiss at your bruised lips. Soft and licking at the seam of your petty complaints. “You told him to ‘fuck off’ right to his face, Toji! N’ after he was just being nice.”

“Just nice”, his ass. Toji saw the way he looked at you - and he didn’t like it, not one bit.

So in response, all you’re getting is another buck of his hips like such an animal. Once. Twice. Body curling up into yours to stuff your snug channel full. He’s waiting just until you keen and arch back for more before halting so agonizingly still, letting his painfully hard cock mold your plush walls.

You have to take a moment to collect yourself at the sensation of his prominent veins rubbing up against those hidden sweet spots only Toji could reach. To stop yourself from fucking back desperately.

“Dontcha think I’ve hah- already learned my lesson now, c’mon. Look-” Greedy eyes locking down at where you straddled him, your pretty pussy lips spread obscenely around his thick shaft. So so angry, covered in a mouthwateringly glossy sheen of your sweet sweet juices. “-bet she wants to be fucked like the slut she is.”

The force of his sharp pelvis has you tumbling face-first first into his chiseled pecs, just enough that Toji’s latching his bullying mouth onto one of your hardened nipples. Smug scar grazing against your sensitive areola, “Besides, is it really my fault?” Another ram, another crash against your ravaged g-spot, pumping in and out like he was addicted to the soft tug of your clingy walls back - now past just cockwarming. Way past. “Please, s’my right to be jealous, doll.” you watch his lewd smirk turn into something grittier. Something that definitely didn’t bode well for your poor cunt. Muffling out, “Sick bastards gotta know when to stay away from my woman.”

Before you’re opening your mouth to retort - or maybe threaten him with tying his legs up, too, so he’s left with only another 40 minutes of cockwarming - a sharp ring of your phone cuts through that heady, hypnotic air.

Toji only has to angle his head towards the flashing screen on the forgotten phone still dangling limply from your hand, and then his eyes are lighting up with such dangerous delight. “Answer it.”

“Wh-what?” you sputter. “Who is-”

Your coworker.

“Answer it.”

It’s the slow, sultry push and pull of Toji’s hips that have now got you in such a cockdrunk daze, a soft ah! ah! ah! leaving you with every rhythmic grind. He’s using the handcuffs as leverage to arch his hips off the bed, inching you closer and closer to puff out a feverishly sweet kiss onto your forehead. Whispering gently, “Answer it f’me, doll.”

And no sooner is the soft pad of your shaky thumb swiping across the screen, that tinny voice of your coworkers blaring through the speakers that-

“Hello?”

SNAP!

The handcuffs are hitting the hardwood floors before realization hits you - and in all of three seconds, Toji’s hulking frame is set free. Two rough palms sliding to your hips and just slamming you down the entire length of his throbbing cock. Burying so deep inside your heavenly cunt that you could feel the scratch of his public hair against your clit, Toi’s heavy balls twitching against your ass. And his voice - low and rumbling with need when he’s pulling your whole body weight up, up, up to kiss at his leaky, pink tip. And down. Again. And again and again and-

“Let’s show this fucker how sorry I really am, huh?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - As long as you want, darling.

“Are you sure, my love?” Nanami whispers in your ear in a low, satiny purr. The hot water from that candlelit bubble bath he’d lit sloshing around just a bit when two large, rugged hands of his come down to massage your shoulders gently. “S’been a long day.”

And, really, it has. A long day of overly picky clients and an even pickier manager - a long day that your lovely husband was slowly crumbling away bit by bit. Chest rumbling behind yours, legs intertwined with yours in the water, thick cock stuffed deep in your cunt.

You’re slowly nudged back into reality when he’s planting a lazy, heated trail of open-mouthed kisses down your shoulder. “If you want to sit in silence we can do that, too, darling.”

“No, s’okay, Ken.” It’s all you can do to manage out a hazy shake of your head, looking up from where your back was pulled flushed against his hard, sculpted front. Grinding the curve of your ass back to drag against his abs, skin-on-skin. “Want you.”

Fuck, that has him twitching like a man starved inside you. And the stretch, oh - it made your toes curl in depravity, head spinning at just how much your gummy walls were being molded to the exact shape and size of him. Memorizing every little curve and pattern of lewd throbs along your pussy.

A low rumbling sound in the back of his throat, heavy balls so so ready and squeezing painfully at your obscene words.

“But- you know if I go rough on you-”

You kiss his sharp jaw, licking languidly along the long column of his milky throat. Drinking in his heady, masculine scent to murmur, “And I want you now.”

And, well, how could Nanami Kento ever deny his pretty lil’ wife?

Which is why, in all of three seconds, the man himself had you reaching across the bathtub on all fours. Knees weak and shaking like a newborn fawn where he held you up easily by your hips, swollen cock still angry and splitting your poor cunt apart from behind.

“Whatever my love wants-” you hear Nanami breathe out shakily, moving from the first time since he carried you inside the bathroom to reel every long fucking inch of his girthy cock out, out, out from your sloppy hole. And if you angled your head back just right you could catch that messy glisten of your slick down his shaft. All the way until his fat tip was smearing all over your glossy folds. Waiting. Greedy. “-she will get.”

And his words were so sincere - solid, thorough, just like the dizzying thrust he was gifting your poor cunt with. Stretching that first rim of muscle so wide, feeding your pussy every inch he could give.

“O-oh-” you moan brokenly, your thighs already shaky with the stimulation of having Nanami squeeze his fat shaft down in bullying thrusts just to fit his mean cock inside. “Oh my god, Ken s’already so much-”

“M’not even halfway in.” he’s hushing away your pretty cries with a line of kisses down your arched spine, finally settling to crash his lips against yours. Bare chest rippling with muscle, “You can take it. You’re my good girl, right? Gonna take my cock until you forget all about that hngh- bad day of yours?‘

It’s like clockwork the way you’re nodding so dazedly, not even sure what you even agreed to until Nanami’s pushing in proud, powerful rams of his hips. Tip so hefty, leaking so much precum down your cervix - down the corners of your sopping slit.

“You’re so big-” you whine, ass stinging with the harsh smacks into his front. Screwing your glassy eyes shut, “S’too much, ngh-”

“Hey hey, now.” your husband tuts against your ear, the damp metal of his ring cold when he swipes softly at your cheek - refusing, for even a moment, to take off that evidence of his pure devotion to you. “Keep those gorgeous eyes of yours open, my love. Just look-.”

Coaxing those cockdrunk eyes of yours open exactly the way he always did, Nanami only smiles when your kiss-bitten lips drop into a shocked oh!

Because fuck, it didn’t matter how many times you took him - Nanami was always so massive. So unapologetically obvious when he was inside you. Your puffy folds spread shamefully, that bulging divot of his fat head peeking out, showing you in real time exactly how harshly he was crashing against your g-spot. Bruising. Sloppy.

Over and over and-

“Takin’ me so hah- well.” You mewl at the never-ending gush of praises, every lingering thrust of Nanami’s hips increasing in pace. “Wish you could feel- how wet you are.” He’s sliding a palm down your water-slicked skin, cupping the mess made of your cunt. “-how tight. How-” Body convulsing when you feel Nanami’s wedding ring so chilly against the heated part of your clit. Being rubbed into it over and over when he’s rolling the pad of his thumb in slow, sleazy circles. “-perfect. How perfect you are f’me.”

“K-Ken-” you’re whining, and Nanami already knows what you’re about to say - of course, he does. Immediately pinning your two arms behind your back with one of his much bigger ones, holding you upright to fuck into your dripping cunt harsher. More calculated. “M’close- m’close m’so-”

“So cum f’me.” he hisses, letting your fingers dance up to tug and graze his undercut all you pleased. “Cum f’me like a good girl.”

You don’t even realize it when you do - too caught up with every crashing kiss against your bruised g-spot. Every spike of white-hot pleasure when Nanami’s massive cock massages your walls so right. Fucking you over and over through your high.

Until all you can do is scream out his name, until all you can do is kneel there and take it while he’s absolutely ravaging your cunt - no thoughts of whatever bad day at work on your mind now, only filled with Nanami and the need for more, more, more-

Until you’re turning to hum deviously, “Your turn.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - HOURS

Times like this, Geto Suguru loved to tease you, loved to push the limits and see exactly what would make that pretty lil’ mind of yours tick.

Times like now - when he had you laying so peacefully on top of him, your lolling head moving gently up and down with his heavy breathing, his legs dangling off the other end of the couch, eyes firmly trained on the shitty action movie playing on-screen.

It would be almost wholesome, if it wasn’t for-

“Sugu…”

Ah, there it was.

“Yes, gorgeous?” Geto tries to hold back that dark glint in his voice. A smirk curling the edges of his strained words when you clench your clingy walls around him as a sort of punishment, shifting desperately. “Don’t like the movie?”

You’re hissing out through firmly clenched teeth, tugging on his skin-tight shirt to get your beloved boyfriend’s attention - but, alas, it doesn’t work. “The movie’s not the problem-” And lo and behold, you’re fucking your trembly hips back so deep against where he’d buried himself inside you about half an hour ago. Ass shifting on top of his heavy balls, clit throbbing on top of those neat tufts of black, your familiar movements trying to get him to massage his fat, weepy veins against your sweet spots again. “-it’s your fuckin’-”

“Ah ah, language, my girl.” he’s whispering, still not sparing your cockdrunk self a glance. Despite the way his achy head nudges in desperation against the bullseye of your g-spot in a way he knows will have you keening. Leaky divot meeting your bundle of nerves making you go insane after cockwarming him for so long. “S’jus’ getting to the best part.”

Fuck, you didn’t care - didn’t even remember the name of the movie you two were watching at this point.

But what you did remember was the way this exact scenario played out last time - when Geto decided to really pull out and continue with the movie marathon as if nothing happened. Just the memory has your needy pussy twinging in annoyance, trying even harder to suck him up depravedly.

And yet, all you can manage out is a few grumbles about “getting him back soon” and forcing your eyes back on the screen. Only gives occasional nudges and grinds down to nestle him cozier against your plush walls.

And you succeed.

That is, almost.

Until it gets to that erotic scene. A hazy blinking up at Geto told you he already knew this would be in the movie, high cheekbones flushed, watching your every single reaction from the corner of his dark, dewy eyes.

You’re teetering precariously on top of him when his achy dick twitches even harder in interest. Your slick coming down in hot oozes that soak his entire bottom half. Glistening in the light of the tv and helping you slide your sloppy pussy across his fat length.

“Suguru…”

Full name? Damn, he was in some trouble.

But, like the absolute bully he is, Geto only lets out a low whistle. A large, soft palm coming down to knead at the fat of your ass, stretching and pulling to help you hump your pussy even deeper. “Some awful actin’, huh?” he grunts, eyes still locked on the movie. Hips stuttering up as if unconsciously - primally, “Bet we could do a whole lot better.”

But, two can play that game.

“We could.” you whine syrupy and pitched higher than normal with lust. “Such a hngh- shame, though, right?” And at his surprised look of confusion, you’re plowing on smugly, “Because you’re on a sex ban for the next month.”

The reaction is immediate - pained eyes snapping onto yours, his pretty pink lips dropping into a shocked oh! and Geto’s spouting out unabashed, “Awww, c’mon, gorgeous don’t be like that. Wasn’t serious, wasn’t—” Panic veiling his actions when you bluff moving to get off. Yet, he plays right into your hands, heavy fingers sitting you back down on his cock to meet in a shallow thrust, molding at your elastic walls. Claiming, “-as if I’d ever deny you, gorgeous.”

And you can’t get another word out before he’s steadily using all those hours at the gym to his advantage to bounce you along his lap in a steady fucking. Slamming right up to where your pussy lips smashed into his hip bone.

“You’re so weak, Sugu–”

Hell, so what if he was the one that broke first?

Oh, he can’t deny though, the way just how needy you were - how you were pouting up at him with those sultry, beautiful eyes of yours to “just fuck me right” - has him throbbing achingly inside your heavenly walls. Stretching out that gummy channel to its limits, until you could feel every ridge and curve along his massive length.

“Mhm, m’weak.” Geto rasps, arms tightening around your waist to hover your entire body up. “But- only for you- ngh, only for-” And he’s barely even stuttering his hypnotic cadence before spreading his legs firmer, moving his quick, bullying thrusts enlarging your filthy hole. Geto’s abs burning, thighs straining. “-you n’ this pretty cunt, y’know.” Like a - very overdue - little apology for toying with you so much, one of his deft hands dip down to roll and tweak your puffy clit between two slender fingers. Promising. Faster. Flashing a look in your eyes that told you he was about to make it so you couldn’t walk for a week, at least. “So you better not think of hah- something stupid like a sex ban.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 13 min.

Choso couldn’t tear his greedy gaze away, couldn’t stop aching for more and more of that delicious stretch of your gummy walls around him. Feeling so lecherous with every beat of silence spent devouring the pretty sight of you.

The way you were splayed out like such a slut for him on your once-fresh satin sheets, bent into such a mean mating press he didn’t think himself capable of. Laying your boneless body out in that obscene pool of cum and slick, only spreading farther and farther with each twitch of his poor, overstimulated balls.

“Ch-Cho!” your honeyed, broken gasp him blinking back those big fat tears of sensitivity. And fuck he swears he could feel that lewd slosh of his seed coating against your gummy walls in a sticky sheen. “Cho, why are you- ngh! Getting hard again? It’s only been about ten minutes-”

That has him looking down in surprise, ravaged raw lips falling into a fucked-out oh! at that sight of your puffy folds being spread further and further with the way all the blood in his body was rushing to his achy cock. Bulging. Slobbering down your slit to coat him all glistening and ready to slide in again.

“One more. Had enough of waitin’ around.” Choso rasps, words slurring out so quiet that you almost think you imagined it. “O-one more time, baby–”

He’s leaving no room for you to answer - for you to even think, to breathe before giving your sopping wet cunt an experimental thrust. Dewy eyes falling half-lidded and dangerous when he watches the way his cum gushes down your thighs in warm dredges at the simple gesture.

“I thought-” your nails rake down his toned back to leave red, angry lines of pleasure. “I thought you said we were jus’ gonna hah- cockwarm right now, Cho? To make sure it takes?”

And it was true, he wanted to make sure you don’t waste a drop of his seed, to have you painted white with him for as long as he possibly could - well, maybe partially out of your boyfriend’s own perverted desire. But, really, what’s the harm in a little self-indulgence?

“Please! Please I know I know, baby.” he’s pleading. Ignoring the ringing in his ears, the dizziness in his vision to kiss the glossy pout of your candied lips so soothingly - missing, a few times with how utterly wrecked you had him. “But you can hngh- take one more, right? Just one more, f’me? Please?”

One more - he’s whispering out that little manta over and over with each gifting, filthy crash against your g-spot. Fat tip so soaked with all the mess of your juices that it slides a thorough line right across your bruised cervix. That makes you keen, it makes you cry, it makes you just arch your back off the mattress to push you even deeper down Choso’s swollen cock.

You mewl when he’s licking a long, languid stripe up the sultry teartracks down your cheeks, “Yes, but- but Cho you should rest-”

As if that would stop him - not when every shred of his sanity is dancing away from him to the smooth staccato of his rolling hips.

Choso hisses when his bruised lips are crashing against yours, entire body jolting because the sheer stimulation after only this long since cumming is driving him insane. Too much.

You buck your hips wildly when he’s angling his toned pelvis just right to smack that divot on his thick head onto your already-raw sensitive spots. Convulsing uncontrollably to let out a few wispy globs of cum that fill you up from the bottom of your pussy - an orgasm you don’t think Choso even realizes. “F-fuck- did you just-”

The pool grows even wider.

“Yes- no.” he gasps, before immediately reeling his hips back and forth again like a man starved. “Maybe. But one more- just one more, baby. Please.” Your sloppy make out is now tinged with the salty taste of tears - both yours and his. Because with each slow, cautious drag of his cock marking your elastic walls, a fresh wave of sensitivity hits him. “Please- wanna cum. Need to cum. Please please please one more- please.”

He didn’t know who he was begging at this point - you or him. Holding such a vice-like grip on the easy curve of your hips to keep you from running away while he fucks you into the mattress for the nth time tonight.

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck can feel you in so deep.” you murmur hazily, bringing a hand up to draw an invisible line around the middle of your stomach. “Can feel you right in here-”

“Oh yeah? That so?” he’s smirking uncharacteristically. “Soon ‘nough m’gonna have you hngh filled all the way up until-” He drags a thick, lazy index finger of his right up the sensitive bud of your clit. Up, up, up to wrap a large palm at your throat, “-here.”

And you can’t help but think he looks so pretty - so absolutely wrecked with his dark hair untied, sticking in stray strands to his forehead. Flushed to the absolute roots from the apples of his cheekbones, his droopy eyes. Biceps bulging out attractively when he squeezes around your racing pulse.

Somehow, you manage to choke out, “Do it then.”

That’s all it takes for your poor, absolutely ruined boyfriend to cum. Cumming and cumming so hard it was like he couldn’t stop - didn’t want to stop.

Greedy gaze falling shut so sensually when your gummy walls squeeze the soul out of him, drinking up every single rope after rope of his hot seed. Sticky, oozing globs that thin out into nothing but blanks - and he’s still fucking your heavenly cunt through his high.

Still in the throes of his orgasm when he whispers, “Baby- my baby, are we really sure it took?” Fingers squeezing tighter around your gasping throat, “Maybe we should try one more time.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Honestly? 1 hour 26 min.

“Hngh-” you’re hiccuping, the front of your drenched panties leaving a lewd smear of glossy slick all over Sukuna’s abs. Dragging out his name in such a honeyed, needy whine, “Sukuna—”

With a growl, he’s gripping a fistful of your ass, holding your squirming hips so flush against his toned pelvis that he could feel every minute quiver of your puffy pussy lips. Every new bead of your sweet sweet juices slobbering down his front and onto the sobbing cock stuffed still inside your gripping cunt, “What, woman?”

You’re gifting him with a pouty kiss, the kind he’d never admit makes his painfully tight balls squeeze in depravity, “Don’t hafta be so mean.”

“M’not.” he grumbles, and yet gifts the mound of your cunt with a sharp smack! of his large palm. Soothing over the burning brand, “S’jus’ that someone decided to- hngh-” Muscled pecs rumbling with the memory from just a few hours ago, “-make me miss my morning meeting by being such a slut, hm? Just crying to ‘feel, tha’s enough.’”

That work meeting was long done now, having finished about half an hour ago from what he could spy from that clock across your bedroom. Doesn’t matter, as CEO he could miss all the fucking meetings he wanted - having a softer spot for you than anyone, anything.

But that didn’t mean he’d stop teasing you - toying with you until you were begging for twice as long as that meeting was supposed to last.

“So, really-” his voice cuts through those needy little grinds of your hips. Mindless, slow - trying not to draw attention to yourself as you rocked yourself slowly up and down Sukuna’s fat hilt. Caught red-handed, it’s all you can do to squeal when he’s digging those long, black nails into your heated skin, holding you so agonizingly still. “-m’jus’ doing exactly what you asked, brat.”

The way you kick and wrangle your legs have him leering even wider, “What? Heh, got a problem with that?”

“Yes!” you’re keening, tightening your legs around his waist until you could feel the balls of your feet digging into the tiny dimples at the back of his spine. “Wan’ed you to ngh- fuck me- not- not-”

His tip is swiping across every inch of your sweet spot, pressing in so hard but doing nothing about it. Teasing you with such feral twitches against your tight channel, “You jus’ wanted me inside you n’ this cockwarming s’all you’re gonna get.”

“Please?”

This earns you another rough slap on your bulging pussy, the pads of Sukuna’s five fingers branding onto your stretched-out swollen folds. Lingering a bit too long around your neglected clit. Assessing.

And, suddenly, you know it means that smug façade of his is crumbling bit by bit - right along with his sanity. Gruffing out a ragged, “I said-”

And then you squeeze - oh, you’re clamping down your snug walls in such a way that has Sukuna cutting himself off with a throaty moan. The greedy gaze of his darkened red eyes flying open, head thrown back when his hips traitorously buck into you.

“Fuck- fuck, you little minx.” he spits into the soft kiss you’re planting on his lips. Glaring at you despite the way his weepy tip coats your cunt in an appreciative glossy sheen, “You think you’re sooo fuckin’ slick, huh? You think you hah- won this? M’still not movin’, woman.”

Batting your lashes up so deceivingly innocently, “I have no idea what you mean, Kuna–”

Shit, the syrupy sweet sound of that sinful nickname sends wracking shudders all down Sukuna’s hulking body. Biting his lower lip to hold back a raspy moan, “Don’t.”

You’re only pressing your bare chest against his even closer, draping yourself all over like a second skin. Blowing a feverish puff of hot air down his steadily reddening ears, “I have no-” Pressing a chaste peck right at his cheek, his forehead. “-idea-” On the edge of his pink locks - exactly where you knew he loved but would never ever tell you. “-what you mean-” Before finishing off with the final blow, to thumb open his angry mouth. Eyeing in amusement at how easily he’s letting his tongue loll out already - pussydrunk and all ready for you to spit a steady glob of saliva once. Twice. Wiping off those intentional splatters at the corner of those pretty pink lips, “-Kuna.”

“You’re gonna fuckin’ regret this.”

As if to prove his point, Sukuna is immediately pulling out - taking only a split second to flip you over to press your back against his broad chest. The bed creaks in protest as he sheaths himself inside your gooey cunt in one, harsh thrust.

All of it - making sure you swallow every thick inch by fucking inch of that same cock you’ve been begging for all morning. He doesn’t waste a second before spreading his knees to smack those sharp hip bones against yours again. Doesn’t even wait for you to adjust.

“You’re such a slut when you- hah- beg f’me, y’know that. Don’t know why you bother with that good girl act but-” Slap! For a moment, you wonder whether he smacked you - only to realize it’s the sheer power of his thrusts. Unforgiving, long drags in and out to fill you up in places you didn’t even know existed, bruising your flesh. “-at least I ngh- get to bring out the nasty bitch in you.”

Fucking you so relentles now. Your brain’s too fuzzy to even call him out on his little insult, managing out only choked up, “F-fuck you’re so- s’too good- Kuna.”

Those moans have him drunk, one set of thick fingers reeling you in by your pretty throat. So thankful he chose this position, because now he gets to fully let the ecstasy take over his face. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, face tinted a delicate pink, so fucking hot where he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

“J-just shut up and take it, brat.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - 2 min. (and 15 seconds!)

“F-fuck-” he breathes out unsteadily. Blue eyes falling shut as he throws his head back in pleasure, and his lips have that freshly-kissed look to them when he’s groaning. “Fuuuck, m’sorry m’sorry. You’re gonna be the hngh- fuckin’ death of me, sweetheart.”

Now, the great Gojo Satoru already had an inkling about this fact by the time you’d caught him rifling through that batch of chocolates you’d been saving up for a week. Brows furrowed, foot tapping in anger. Whoopsies.

And he already knew it’d be true when you’d shoved him down on the nearby couch and scolded him in that stern, sexy voice of yours that went straight to his aching dick. Toying with your glistening pussy while you straddled his toned lap, telling him to dare not move “or else.”

And fuck, he swear he saw the gates of heaven open up right then and there when you actually took him.

But shit, now, Gojo didn’t consider himself a weak man - far from it, actually, he was the strongest and he knew it. And yet he’s never felt so utterly fucking helpless with his throbbing cock enveloped deep in your cunt where he couldn’t see, freshly leaky, angry tip hitting down that familiar path to your g-spot. But staying there.

Unmoving.

So fucking agonizing that even you’re noticing the twitch of Gojo’s fingers on the plush of your hips, the way his jaw is clenching so tight. Raising an amused brow, “Toru?”

“Y-yes?” he yelps, voice a few octaves higher than normal. Jolting - and the movement is enough to cause a slight shift inside your dripping wet pussy. Tremors running down his spine at that sinful little taste of what he’s been craving so badly.

“Toru, you’re already such a mess.” you manage to giggle, purposefully grinding down in smooth gyrations that have his fat head drawing wet circles over and over around your sweet spots. “N’ I just put it in.”

“No!” Gojo’s whining hotly, big fat tears of sheer need pricking at his eyes. “No no no s’been more than long enough-” Gliding two large, pale hands to smooth over the globes of your ass, groping you to shove even more of his angry inches into your swallowing pussy. Ragged breaths coming out in gusts, “-please. Please.”

His words are breaking so sluttily at the end, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his pale throat when he’s lifting his impatient hips off of the couch - once. Twice. Desperately searching for some friction.

“Satoru, if you can’t handle cockwarming for more than two minutes…”

“Please!” And he looks so pretty begging like this, gasping out wet pleas into your open mouth. “I’ve hah- l-learned my lesson, my girl. Don’t hold out on me now.” Powerful hips stuttering up like he was hesitant on pissing you off any more. “Said m’sorry- see?”

You whirling to look down at where Gojo was lolling his head down in such a pussydrunk way, only to be met with the lewd sight of your snug cunt being split apart by his massive cock. Glossy lips spread, bulging - struggling with the effort to accommodate his girthy, pulsing shaft. The stretch.

The sight is something that makes you squeeze your clingy walls to take the shape of him - so tight that Gojo swears he could feel his breath being cut off.

He hisses, words coming out so pained. Eyes half-lidded in wonderment at the way that tiny hole of yours gets stretched so obscenely around his thick hilt. “Ohh, fuck yeah. Thought you’d like that- yeah- yeah, just like that.” And you’re barely getting the chance to brace yourself before his hips are bucking up wildly. Like he was out of control - like he didn’t even know what he was doing right now. “S-sorry, said m’sorry. Fuck, m’sorry- sooo fuckin– sorry.”

Every breathy apology is punctuated by a heavy thrust, now fully forgetting that little punishment of his. IMean now. Pushing past that feeble resistance to fuck you all the way till you could feel that upwards curve of his dick branding against your cervix, your lungs. Over and over and-

“Hngh- ah, Toru!” you’re squealing when he dances a long hand down to rub over your pretty clit. Soft palms wet with a gloss of your slick with each tight circle. Again. And again and again and- “Y-you’re still not forgiven, y’know.”

It wasn’t very convincing - not when your greedy hips are limply bucking down to try and meet his rough cadence.

“I know.” he grits. “I know I know- fuck, I know.” Spitting straight into your sagging open mouth, he’s swiping at the lewd mess, “N’ I’ll buy ya more- buy ya the hngh- whole fuckin’ ch-chocolate store if you want.” Heavy balls smacking against your ass, pushing in powerful rams of his tip into your g-spot. Rambling drunkenly to himself now, “Just wanna- wanna-” Tears of sensitivity are streaming down his face now, as wet as the mess he was making of your poor pussy. And it takes only a few anticipated, purposeful thrusts before- “-cum.”

You barely have the time to even register those thick, hot globs f cum being stuffed into the very bottom of your pussy. Filling you up with Gojo’s sin when he’s throwing his head back to moan, hips bucking up, up, up to paint your deep core white.

“No no no no- no-” he’s babbling, still shooting up sticky streams of seed inside you. Fingers so erratic on your cunt now, Back arching up off the cushions to ram into you like some little ragdoll, from the very tip of his goading cock. “You have to cum- need you to cum, sweetheart.”

You’re just milking him, clinging onto him so tight it’s hard to crash his ruddied, sobbing tip even harder into your g-spot.

It’s almost like he’s forcing it out of you, wrenching out a hazy orgasm where you’re seeing stars behind your eyes. A loud whine of your boyfriend’s name leaving your swollen lips when he’s fucking you through peak after peak-

“Is this a good time to tell ya I ate those leftovers you were savin’ up, too, or do I hafta beg for forgiveness again?”

“...”

A/N. Listen, I know that Sukuna would be a TYRANT CEO but it’s for the aesthetic ok.

Plagiarism not authorized.

16K notes · View notes

gumii-bearr · 5 months ago

Text

❝ i'm already yours ❞

summary: megumi learns to be honest with you and tell you what he wants.

featuring... megumi fushiguro

content warning: MDNI (18+), afab!reader, angst, fluff, some rude guy (ino slander im SORRY), mentions of alcohol, mentions of megumi's ex, fighting, megumi still being emotionally stunted but hes learning, ozawa x itadori mentions, maki x yuta mentions, nobara is a menace, megumi being such a cute lil baby, swearing, smutttt, fingering, mirror sex, missionary, p in v sex, loss of virginity, belly bulge, unprotected sex (dont do that!), pulling-out method, subspace a bit, squirting, aftercare!!

word count: 9.3k

author's note: oh BABY, this one GOOOOOD

chapter one

Megumi Fushiguro is starting to really like you.

Like, more than just ‘like-like’, as you so eloquently put it those few months ago while lying naked in his bed. Megumi’s heart races at the sight of you. Granted, that has always been the case but he’s starting to think about you all the time.

You still sleep in your separate rooms, though you’ll occasionally sneak into his room in the late hours of the night holding your pillow and softly chanting ‘sleepover’. And Megumi’s heart just swells, moving aside in his tiny single bed to make room for you to curl into his side, your leg thrown over his waist and your hand clutching his shirt.

You are his first thought every morning.

Whether you’re still sleeping beside him, cooking breakfast, doing your makeup in your room or already at work or college; you are all he thinks about. Most of the time he thinks about good things, but sometimes he thinks about the not-so-good things.

Like if you’re getting tired of him.

Or if you think he’s too possessive or too clingy or too needy or too much–

“I’m home!” you exclaim from the front door. You have your hands full holding take-out bags, your apron still tied around your waist (Megumi pictures you walking around in public still wearing the brown-coloured apron with the little bear on it and your name tag still pinned to your shirt because you always forget to take it off).

Megumi is quick to appear in the hallway, effortlessly lifting the bags from your hands as you attempt to kick your shoes off, hopping on one foot and cursing like a sailor when they don’t cooperate.

“Hi,” Megumi greets, voice soft and a little tired.

He always waits up for you, even when you have a midnight closing shift and he’s been awake since five in the morning. When he knows you’re finishing late, he makes sure to text you at exactly 12:16, a minute after your shift actually ends. He likes to make sure you’re okay, even if he won’t admit it.

“Hi, Gumi,” you beam, a wide smile on your face as you press up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. You giggle when his face flushes slightly and he averts his gaze to avoid you catching him blushing. But you think it’s so unbelievably cute.

“How ws’ work?” He asks, dropping the take-out bags on the counter in the kitchen.

“Boring,” you whine, dropping your car keys (Megumi’s car keys) in the bowl by the door and shrugging off your jacket. “Some guy had me re-make his coffee, like, five times at 11:55! How rude.” You mumble the last part with a scowl on your face.

“Mm, you should have just pretended to remake it,” Megumi mutters, unpacking the take-out from the plastic bags and grabbing some plates for the two of you.

“Oh, I did,” you reply with a cheeky grin, “after the fourth try, I just shook it and gave it back to him… It seemed to work ‘cus he said it was perfect.”

Megumi gives an amused smile, “that’s my girl.”

You smile sweetly at the nickname, padding over to Megumi and wiggling your hands through his arms to wrap your hands around his waist, pressing your front to his broad back.

“I missed you, Gumi,” you nuzzle into his warmth just between his shoulder blades.

“Missed you too,” Megumi says after a beat, lifting a hand to squeeze your arm still wrapped around his waist.

Megumi seems tired, though his voice is laced with something else a little sadder and you know when Megumi gets like that it’s because he’s thinking. And you’ve been so busy with work and the rapidly approaching final exams, that you haven’t been home as much as you want to.

“What’s wrong?” You ask quietly, twisting yourself around Megumi to peer up at his tired face.

“M’fine,” Megumi replies after a short pause.

You frown, “...what’re you thinking about then?”

Megumi hates how you know him. After the catastrophe that was his confession to you, you’ve been more sensitive to and observant of Megumi’s changes in behaviour. You can now so easily tell the difference between Megumi’s genuine exhaustion and when his thoughts start to spiral into insecurity and anxiousness.

“Just stuff.” Ah, Megumi Fushiguro, a man of many words.

“You wanna tell me about it?” You don’t ever push. Sometimes Megumi does want to talk about it, other times he just wants to curl up on the couch with you to distract himself. It worries you no matter what though.

Megumi knows he should talk about it with you. He’s been trying really hard to tell you about things that are bothering him since when he used to talk about it with his ex, she would rattle off insults about him being too clingy or too nervous or too paranoid.

But you’re different.

You pay attention to him, holding his hand so gently and letting him get the words out on his own, no matter how long it takes or how much he stumbles over his thoughts.

It took him about forty minutes to ask you if you’d be his girlfriend.

“And I… I think that–” Megumi cuts himself off, running a hand through his messy hair and avoiding eye contact with you by staring at the ceiling then the floor.

Your hand holding his is making him even more nervous. Your thumb strokes over his knuckles, your knee touching his as the two of you sit on the couch, the movie you were watching long forgotten.

“Do you… Is it okay with you if we, uh. Fuck… We’re dating, right?”

You chuckle softly, “yeah, we’re dating,” you ponder for a moment. “You’ve been taking me on dates, right?”

Megumi gives an amused huff, “that’s what they were intended as.”

“Okay, then I’m confident in saying that yes, we’re dating,” you giggle.

Megumi always over-thinks the plans he makes. Wondering if you will like the picnic he planned (with the help of Nobara and Yuko who were sending him far too many pinterest screenshots at 3am), wondering if you’d like the restaurant he picked (you’re determined to try almost everything on the menu and claim he’ll have to roll you home), and wondering if you still like him.

He knows it’s irrational. You are always so excited to see him at the end of every day, always so excited to tell him about your day and ask about his even if he spent the whole day at home.

“Will you… Would you want me to be your boyfriend?” Fuck. He asked it wrong. “Wait, I meant will you be my girlfriend?”

The smile that spills across your face is so happy and so bright and you crash tackle him onto the couch, squealing in delight and pressing kisses to his face as Megumi just chuckles (mostly with relief). “I would love to be your girlfriend!”

“Really?”

“Of course! …It was so worth the forty-five minutes of stammering–”

“Hey!”

“M’just thinking about you,” Megumi finally forces out, a nervous pit forming in his stomach as his eyes flicker around the room, unable to meet your gaze.

“Good things, I hope,” you reply, slipping your hands into Megumi’s and playing with his warm fingers. You know deep down he’s feeling anxious and worried about things regarding you and your relationship, you know none of it is malicious because that’s just the way Megumi is; always thinking.

Megumi shrugs, “js’ worried about me being… too paranoid and stuff.”

Your expression softens and you reach a hand up to cup Megumi’s jaw, gently forcing his head to tilt down and his gaze to meet yours. Your eyes flicker between his and you smile softly, “you’re not too paranoid, Megumi. You’re a good person and you worry about doing and saying the right thing.”

Megumi chews on the inside of his cheek, “...you sure?”

“Always,” you beam. “You never have to worry about me… ‘cus I like-like you,” you giggle quietly.

Megumi’s lips tug into a smile, “I like-like you too.”

You press up on your tiptoes, hands snaking around Megumi’s neck to toy with the shorter baby hairs at his nape. His eyes glance down to your lips, still tinted pinkish with the strawberry-flavoured lipgloss you love so much.

You smile before leaning up to press a slow peck to his lips, revelling in the way Megumi gently pulls you closer by your waist, hands so big yet so gentle as they hold you close to his body. You taste like strawberries, some of your lipgloss smearing onto Megumi’s lips.

You chuckle lightly, lifting your thumb to rub the gloss off his lips, “Ozawa asked if we wanted to hang out Saturday night too.”

Megumi moves some of your hair out of your face, “doing what?”

“Mm, bowling and arcade games? Maybe some drinks? I thought it would be nice to hang out with them since we haven’t in a while,” you shrug.

Megumi hums, “if you want to.”

You smile softly, “only if you want to.”

“I never want to.”

“Yeah, I know,” you chuckle. Megumi isn’t exactly social, he would prefer to stay cooped up in the apartment with you, both of you lounging around in your pyjamas and watching movies or playing video games (a.k.a. Megumi playing CoD while you play Animal Crossing).

Megumi watches your expression falter a little and his heart squeezes, “but I’ll go.”

Your face lights up, “really?”

“Mhm,” he hums, “I’ll win you a plushie in the claw machine.”

“A Hello Kitty one?”

“Sure.”

“Yay!”

—

You practically sprint toward Yuko when you see her. She’s sitting at a bar table next to Yuji, his hand resting on her thigh, but she promptly swats his hand away and leaps off the barstool to tackle you in a crushing hug.

“Eee! Y/N, I’ve missed you!” Yuko sways you from side to side, able to bear hug you with how much taller she is than you (and with her chunky heels on). “I haven’t seen you in, like, so long.”

“I saw you three days ago,” you giggle against her shoulder.

“Yeah, but that was work, it doesn’t count,” she tuts, pulling away from you and giving you a disapproving look.

“Right, of course,” you roll your eyes playfully.

Yuko peers behind you at your bored-looking boyfriend who stands a few feet away from you with his hands stuffed in his pockets and your adorable pink kitty bag slung over his shoulder, “hi, Fushiguro… cute purse.”

Megumi sticks his hand up in a half-assed wave, “m’trying something different,” he jokes with a bored expression. Anyone who didn’t know Megumi would think he was being dead serious with how his jokes tend to come across.

Yuko chuckles, “come on, we’ve been waiting for you guys forever.” Yuko tugs on your hand and you reach your own hand out for Megumi, who catches you easily with his long strides and laces his fingers with yours.

“Heeey!” Yuji drawls, “what took you dorks so long?”

“Traffic, you know,” you shrug.

That’s a lie; Megumi was too busy laying you down on the dining room table so he could stick his head under your skirt and eat you out because you looked so damn cute in your pretty outfit.

“Sure,” Yuji gives a Megumi a shit-eating grin, to which Megumi rolls his eyes and moves to pull a chair out for you at the table.

“You want a drink?” Megumi asks, peering down at you as he helps you into your chair.

“Mmm, surprise me,” you smile, pressing a kiss to Megumi’s cheek and inwardly beaming at how his cheeks dust a little pink at your affection, especially in front of his friends.

“Sure,” Megumi ruffles your hair, but not enough to ruin it because he knows you spent a lot of time making it look pretty in the bathroom mirror. Megumi promptly disappears into the huge crowd forming around the bar (given it’s a Saturday night, you’re not exactly surprised).

“You two are so cute,” Yuko nudges your shoulder playfully.

You smile, “he’s cute.”

Nobara makes gagging sounds from across the table, “boo, get a room.”

Maki elbows her, “you’re just jealous ‘cus you don’t have a boyfriend,” she says cooly, taking a sip of her martini.

“Rude,” Nobara retorts, dramatically rubbing her shoulder.

“S’okay, Nobara, we’ll fine you a boyfriend,” Yuko chuckles.

“Ew, no thanks,” Nobara scoffs, “men are gross.”

“That’s not very nice,” Yuji whines, his voice muffled from the mouthful of burger shoved in his face.

Nobara raises her brows and points at him, “see?”

Yuko chuckles and picks up a napkin, gently wiping the sauce and crumbs from Yuji’s cheek. He just sits there with a little smile on his face (if he was a dog his tail would be wagging happily, let’s be honest).

You chat with everyone for a while, finally meeting Maki’s boyfriend Yuta and his friend Inumaki (who doesn’t talk much from what you’ve gathered). But as soon as the boys leave to grab more drinks from the bar (they noticed Megumi was at the front of the line and decided to hijack his spot), Nobara and Yuko lean in toward you while Maki rolls her eyes.

“So…” Nobara drawls, scooting her chair closer to yours.

You look at your friends, the tips of your ears feeling hot from the sudden attention. “What?” You huff out a nervous laugh.

“You and Fushiguro done the ol’...” Nobara wiggles her brows childishly to emphasise her point.

You roll your eyes playfully, “that’s none of your business.”

“So that’s a no,” Maki chimes in matter-of-factly.

You’ve only met Maki a handful of times but you like her. She’s quiet and intimidating but she always offers sound advice as opposed to Nobara who lives for disrupting your peace.

But no, you and Megumi haven’t had sex yet. You’ve come close a few times but Megumi is quick to hold back, instead kissing down your tits and your tummy to eat you out or slipping his fingers into your panties to get you off.

It’s not that you don’t want to have sex. You absolutely do. You don’t want anyone other than Megumi to be the one to take your virginity.

But Megumi avoids it and he always seems to be battling some kind of inner turmoil when you hint at him having sex with you. Whether you ask if he’s got a condom or you reach for the waistband of his pants– he’s quick to redirect you and you want to ask him, you really do, but it makes you wonder if he’s unhappy with you or maybe he simply doesn’t want to have sex with you.

You try not to be insecure about it because Megumi loves being between your legs, he loves touching you behind closed doors and worshipping you with kisses and lovebites. And he loves it even more when you’re on your knees in front of him, his hands wrapped around your hair and pulling into a makeshift ponytail so you can take him into your mouth uninterrupted (you’re getting pretty good at it, you think).

But it still makes feel insecure.

“You should do it whenever you’re ready,” Yuko smiles warmly, her hand holding yours. You love your best friend to pieces, always the voice of reason in these situations.

But the thing is; you are ready. It’s Megumi who holds back.

“Yeah, I know,” you sigh, squeezing Yuko’s hand gently.

“I got you this… thing,” Megumi suddenly appears behind you, placing down a fizzy sweet-looking pink drink topped with edible glitter and a little umbrella. “The bartender said it was popular.”

You smile in delight, “oh it’s so pretty! Thank you, Gumi,” You turn in your chair and plant a hard kiss to the underside of Megumi’s jaw.

“‘Welcome,” Megumi replies, nursing his own drink (which looks exceptionally normal compared to yours).

Megumi pulls a chair around to sit beside you, basically forcing Nobara to move over (who attempts to put up a fight but Megumi simply moves her himself). You rest your head on Megumi’s shoulder and he goes a little stiff at the simple form of affection.

Megumi isn’t big on PDA, he prefers to show you how much he cares for you in the privacy of your apartment or when he’s confident that the two of you are alone. But you like showing him off, holding his hand, peppering his face with kisses, hugging him from behind as you wait in line at the grocery store. You’re a little snuggle bug and Megumi is slowly, slowly, getting used to it.

“You gonna win me a Hello Kitty plushie, right?” you tease, wrapping your hands around Megumi’s muscular arm.

“Even if it takes me five tries,” he replies with an amused smile.

It takes him more than ten.

“This shit is a scam,” Megumi grunts, giving an annoyed kick to the neon purple machine filled with soft pastel plushies.

You stand beside him laughing into your hand, “s’okay, Gumi–”

“I’ve spent like forty dollars,” he huffs, “on one machine.”

“Come on, we should play something else,” you tug on his arm, “I already have about four of every sanrio plushie anyway,” you shrug.

Megumi’s jaw clenches and he sighs in frustration, eventually giving in to your protests and letting you tug him off the claw machine to play some other game. The arcade is huge, there are plenty of other games to spend forty dollars on instead of a goofy claw machine.

“We should play space invaders– oh! Or DDR!” you beam.

“I don’t have the coordination for DDR… or the energy,” Megumi grumbles.

You giggle, “right, let’s play space invaders.”

Megumi trails behind you the whole evening, playing games with you and absolutely refusing to let you pay for any of them. You always pull some coins out or your card and he promptly swats your hand away or wraps his strong arm around your middle, pinning your arms to your sides and lifting you away from the machine so he can pay.

You appreciate him doing this with you considering he doesn’t like being social all that much (all his friends think it’s crazy you managed to get him to come along tonight). But really, you know Megumi isn’t doing it because he wants to, he’s doing it because you want to and it makes your heart swell and your body want to melt into a puddle of happiness.

“Oh, boo, this is a scam,” you mutter to yourself as you attempt to win yourself a My Melody plushie in a new claw machine. Megumi was dragged off by Yuji to play some shooting game with Yuta and Inumaki and you snuck off to play another claw machine (and pay without him knowing). You saw that the plushie looked loose and you were sure you could win it if you nudged the claw just right.

You gave up after three tries and grabbed your bag to rejoin your boyfriend and his friends on the other side of the arcade. You spot your pretty boyfriend quickly, giggling as you hear him bickering with Yuji over not shooting straight.

“Uh, hey,” a voice appears beside you.

“Hm?” You peer to the side and notice a taller guy wearing a beanie looking at you, he’s holding a plushie out toward you.

“I saw you trying to win that pink bunny thing…” he holds out the My Melody plushie you were attempting to win.

“Oh,” you beam, “that’s really sweet!”

He laughs softly, “that’s okay… I’m Ino.”

“I’m Y/N–”

You suddenly feel a looming presence behind you. You peer up at Megumi, his eyes harsh and narrowed toward this guy talking to you.

“Uh, hi?” Ino forces out.

“Can I help you?” Megumi deadpans, his jaw slightly clenched in annoyance.

Ino barely offers him a glance, “I was just giving this pretty girl the plushie thing she was trying to win–”

“She doesn’t want it,” Megumi forces his lips into a condiscending smile.

Ino looks between the two of you before clearing his throat, “boyfriend, huh?”

“Mhm,” Megumi hums, his hand snaking around your waist and grabbing at your hip.

“Right,” Ino nods, “sorry, man.” He doesn’t seem sorry with how he mockingly laughs at Megumi’s protectiveness of you.

“Whatever,” Megumi huffs.

Ino promptly disappears, handing the plushie off to some other drunk girl on his way out. You chew on the inside of your lip before turning to Megumi, “Gumi–”

“What?” Megumi spits, a little harsher than he meant it.

You press your lips together, “nevermind,” you sigh, forcing his arm off you and leaving to join Yuji, Yuko and the others, Megumi trudging behind with his hands in his pockets and feeling his mood rapidly plummeting into a mix of annoyance and insecurity.

Megumi’s jaw is tight with tension and he feels like shit because he didn’t watch his tone when he talked to you. He gets protective of you and perhaps a little jealous. And he knows it’s stupid being annoyed and upset over not being able to win you a fucking plushie from a children’s arcade game, but he promised you and this guy managed to do it in one try and actively sought you out to give it to you.

“You two okay?” Yuko asks curiously, almost startling Megumi as he stands at yet another claw machine.

Yuko saw the way your mood immediately changed after your interaction with that guy, instantly becoming a little sad and not as bubbly and talkative as your little group moved around to play more games.

Sure Megumi wasn’t always super affectionate toward you in public, but he wasn’t even staying near you or holding your hand anymore.

“Fine,” Megumi retorts, eyes still glued to the pink plushie he’s trying to win you.

“...Did she upset you?”

“No.”

“Did you upset her?”

“I don’t know,” Megumi shrugs.

Yuko sighs, “maybe you should talk to her.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Yuko lets out an amused laugh, “Fushiguro, she always wants to talk to you.”

Megumi feels a pang in his chest at that, feeling bad that he didn’t even attempt to drag you off to the bathroom or outside so he could talk to you. He’s still trying to get better at the talking, he was just fucking embarrassed.

The machine suddenly chimes, a little song playing as a plushie falls in behind the collection door.

“Hey, you won,” Yuko beams.

Megumi bends down, pulling the plushie out of the machine and scoffing; it wasn’t the My Melody plushie he as aiming for.

Yuko laughs, plucking the bored-looking penguin plushie from his hand and holding it up, “I see the resemblance.”

“Who even is this?” Megumi takes it back, squeezing the soft toy in his large hands,

“It’s Badtz Maru,” Yuko replies, “looks a bit like you.”

“Mm,” Megumi makes a noise of annoyance.

Yuko nudges his shoulder, “she might like it even more,” she sings softly.

Megumi walks around the arcade looking for you, peering around corners and looking through the claw machine section in search of you. He can’t find you. He spots Itadori, Inumaki, Yuta and Maki but can’t find you anywhere. He asks Yuko and Nobara and they shake their heads with a shrug.

How did no one know where you were?

“Where’d she go?” Nobara looks around for you.

“I’ll call her,” Yuko offers.

“S’okay, I’ll call her,” Megumi replies, pressing on your contact and holding his phone to his ear. The call rings before your voice message comes through. Megumi grunts in annoyance. He starts to worry as he texts you a few times, asking where you are. You don’t respond in the record speed you normally do and he shoves his phone back into his pocket.

He walks around the arcade a few more times, then he finally spots you.

He relaxes a little at the sight of you, but it’s short lived when he spots that fucking guy again. He’s leaning against the wall, basically trapping you in a corner as you attempt to curl away from him, your back flush against the wall.

“U-Uh, I should get back to my friends,” you laugh nervously, your hands wrapping tightly around the strap of your purse.

“Lemme walk you t’them then,” he offers.

You look around anxiously, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Uh, no thanks, I can go myself–” Ino suddenly puts a hand on your upper arm.

Megumi surges forward, slightly blinded by anger and annoyance as he pushes the guy away from you, forcing some space between you. Ino stumbles back, clearly intoxicated with how he struggles to catch himself, his hands flailing around to catch himself against the wall.

“She said back off,” Megumi spits, forcing himself in front of you protectively.

“I ws’ just talking to her,” Ino slurs back.

“And she doesn’t want to talk to you,” Megumi retorts, forcing him onto his feet and half-pushing him away. “So fuck off.”

Ino scoffs, “whatever, bro. Was just tryna be nice.” Megumi rolls his eyes at the shitty excuse, jaw clenched angrilly until the guy finally leaves, stumbling off back to the bar.

Megumi suddenly hears you sniffle and his expression instantly softens, shoulders relaxing as he spins around to look at you. You have your back pressed against the wall, your face a little flushed with embarrassment. Your hands are pressed to your face, hiding yourself from him.

“Baby?” Megumi coos, reaching a gentle hand out to pull your hands away from your pretty face.

“M’sorry,” you mumble, your bottom lip quivering as your eyes gloss over with tears.

Megumi’s heart sinks and he sighs, pulling you to his chest to crush you in a hug, a hand stroking the back of your hair. You press your face into his chest, staying there for a moment and melting into his warmth.

“M’sorry I was mean,” he says against your hair.

“You weren’t mean,” you mumble, “I was being dumb.”

“You’re not dumb, Y/N. You thought he was doing a nice thing for you,” Megumi replies. He pauses for a moment before deciding to admit his thoughts to you, “...I was js’ jealous.”

You pull away from him, a bit of your makeup staining the fabric of his black shirt. “Why were you jealous?”

You never thought Megumi could be jealous. He always seems so laidback and bored that you assumed everything was water off a duck’s back to him. But you were obviously sorely mistaken.

“M’always jealous when it’s you,” Megumi shrugs, eyes glancing away as he admits it to you, his face dusted a light pink.

You grin cutely, “you like-like me,” you poke his chest.

“Shut up,” Megumi mumbles, earning a soft laugh from you. He suddenly remembers the Badtz Maru plushie in his other hand. He lifts it up toward you, “I won this for you.”

You pout, “really?”

“Mhm,” Megumi nods, handing it to you.

You squish the softness in your hands before giggling, “looks like you.”

“I don’t see it,” he grumbles.

“He could be your son!”

“It’s a plushie, Y/N.”

Megumi has a winning streak after the two of you make up, winning you a bag of sweets, a pair of earbuds in that impossible to win string-cutting game, and wins you a Hello Kitty plushie that is almost half the size of you.

You carry it around with a big smile plastered across your face and earning jealous glances from other people who have obviously been trying to win the massive toy. You walk around with it under your arm, your other hand in Megumi’s.

“You guys ready to go?” Yuji asks, “‘cus I am officially broke.”

Yuko giggles, “okay, lets go, baby.”

Yuji plants a kiss on Yuko’s nose, then another on her cheek, then another on her forehead before peppering kisses in a circle around her face, his hands resting on her hips as she giggles.

You smile softly at them, your hand unintentionally squeezing Megumi’s.

“Yuck, get a room!” Nobara gags.

Megumi watches you smile at your friends, resting your head against his shoulder. He feels his heart thumping in his chest, suddenly feeling the urge to show you the same affection. He doesn’t like PDA, he thinks its gross and people should just save it for the privacy of their home. But he can see how people like it, being able to show off their partner in public so people know they belong to them and no one else.

You feel Megumi’s eyes on you and you peer up at him, “you okay, Gumi?”

He suddenly presses a soft kiss to your lips, his hand coming up to cup your jaw, thumb stroking over your cheekbone. You smile against his lips and he pulls away, planting another kiss to your cheek then your hair.

You grin at him when he pulls away from you, “what was that for?”

Megumi shrugs, “I just wanted to.”

You point your finger at him, “who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

Megumi rolls his eyes, “oh, ha-ha.”

—

You sigh with relief once you kick your heels off at the door, your shoes landing haphazardly in the corner as you lug your new plushies down the hall. Megumi follows you, dropping his keys in the bowl on the side table in the hallway.

You and Megumi have made up, but Megumi still has something on his mind. He knows exactly what it is but he feels weird bringing it up again since you’ve already worked it out.

But you can tell there’s something on his mind.

You drop your plushies in your room, putting your Badtz Marui plush on your bed so you can sleep next to it (it can be your Megumi stand-in when he’s busy or away). Megumi is sitting on the couch when you come out of your room, he’s scrolling on his phone absentmindedly, jaw tight with tension.

You pad over to him, gently pulling his head back to rest on the back of the couch. You peer over him, your hands gently resting on his shoulders.

“You okay, Gumi?” You ask, lifting your hands to stroke your thumbs across his jaw.

“M’fine,” he replies.

You frown, “don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Not tell me,” you sigh. “I can tell when you’re sad or you’re thinking about stuff, I want you to be able to talk to me.”

“I really am fine, Y/N,” he huffs, pullin away from your hands and getting up off the couch.

“I’m not your ex, Megumi,” you stare at the back of his head.

Megumi visibly stiffens, “...I know that.”

“Do you?” You ask without thinking, “because I really care about you n’ I’ve been trying to be patient and understanding but I–” you cut yourself off, sighing sadly.

Megumi turns to look at you, his teeth gnawing on the inside of his cheek like he always does when he’s nervous. “I know you’re not her, Y/N. You’ve never made me feel the way she has.”

Your shoulders relax and you glance away. You still get insecure about Megumi having an ex, mostly because she’s got to see parts of him you haven’t yet, but in the same breath, she was awful to him and is part of the reason he’s wound so tight and struggles to talk.

You don’t even think when it falls from your mouth, “why don’t you want to have sex with me?”

Megumi’s eyes widen and he feels his heart in his throat. He stiffens, unable to form anything other than– “W-What?”

You sigh, “I know it’s stupid. I just… I wanna have sex… with you. And it just seems like you don’t want to… with me.”

Megumi’s heart aches painfully. Of course he wants to have sex with you. He wants to every day like some kind of maniac, but you’re too good for him (at least that’s what he thinks). And it’s important to him that your first time is perfect and special and Megumi can be a fucking wreck a lot of the time, unable to communicate simple things with you, unable to convey his feelings in a way that’s coherent and not total gibberish.

He can’t shake the fear of him being too needy and paranoid toward you. You’re so special to him and he fears losing you. Fears that one wrong move will send you packing or make you hate him.

“I…” Megumi squeezes his hands into fists, trying to release the tension inside his chest. “Y/N, I do want to.”

You peer up at him, eyes glossed over, “...I’ve beent trying to like… hint at it but you–”

“I’m scared,” Megumi sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I mean… I’m not scared, m’just worried.”

Your brows furrow, “worried?”

“I want it to be special for you,” Megumi admits, “I’m just always thinking that I’m not special enough for you.”

Your heart cracks and you feel like crying and wrapping Megumi up and crushing him in a bear hug and covering him in kisses. Because how could he not think he’s special enough for you?

“Gumi,” you sigh out his nickname and he wipes his eyes. You pout, padding around the couch to press your body against him, wrapping your arms around his waist in a tight hug.

He hugs you back, chin resting on your head gently.

“You’re perfect for me, Gumi,” you murmur. “There’s no one else I trust more in the world than you.”

Megumi squeezes you a little tighter, “I’m not good at talking.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, “I know.”

“I want to be better at it, ‘cus you’re my priority now,” he says, heart beating rapidly in his chest at his confession. “And I’m worried that I’m too paranoid or needy… I don’t want to– I can’t lose you.” You pull away from him a fraction, a tear slipping down your cheek. Megumi catches it, “don’t cry. Please.”

You sniffle, “I don’t want to lose you either, Megumi.” You wrap your arms around his neck, his strong arms still wrapped around the small of your back. “But you need to talk to me, even if you think it’s stupid… Because I tell you stupid stuff all the time and you still listen.”

Megumi chuckles softly, “yeah, I know.”

You cup his cheek, beaming as he leans into your touch, “offer yourself a little kindness, Gumi. You’re too hard on yourself.”

He knows you’re right, you’re always right.

He nods, “I’m gonna try,” he sighs.

“You’re already doing good,” you praise, “I’m still going to be here no matter what.”

“Promise?”

You grin, “I promise.” You hook your pinky with his.

“Then I have something else I need to tell you,” he forces out.

You frown, “okay…”

“I didn’t like that that guy grabbed you,” Megumi huffs, “it made me really fucking mad.”

You chuckle softly, “you handled it, though.”

“But still,” Megumi’s jaw clenches. “Asshole.”

“You don’t like that some other guy touched me?”

“I wanted him dead right then and there,” Megumi’s arms squeeze around you a little tighter.

“Mm, that’s pretty hot,” you giggle.

“...Hot?” Megumi seems confused.

You shrug, “yeah… I like that my boyfriend wants me all to himself.”

Megumi pauses, any words that he could possibly think of getting caught in his throat. Your giggles die in your chest as Megumi’s steely eyes bore into you, an intensity settling in the air.

“Gumi?”

Megumi’s eyes flicker down to your lips, “m’gonna kiss you.”

You grin, “I’d never be opposed to that,” you whisper.

Megumi’s lips are on yours in an instant, his big hands resting on your hips and pulling you against him. One of his hands rests on the back of your neck, tilting your head to the side to deepen the kiss. He forces a whine from your lips when his tongue swipes across your glossed lips. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, slowly backing you up against the wall and knocking some poor unsuspecting vase onto the floor.

It smashes on the ground and you yelp in surprise, “G-Gumi–”

“We’ll fucking clean it later,” he grunts, forcing your jaw to tilt upward so he can kiss you again. Your hands squeeze the fabric of his shirt, your tits pressing against his chest as he grinds his hard-on against your thigh.

The two of you awkwardly crash through your apartment before you finally get to your bedroom door, giggling at how eager Megumi is to get you onto your bed. Your bed is a little bigger than his and always makes it easier for cuddle sessions and Megumi always looks so cute with his dark hair and dark clothes in your pretty pink, white and pastel room.

Your hands tug at the hem of his shirt, pushing the fabric up his abdomen and chest. Megumi helps you, finally pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it across the room. His lips connect with yours again, forcing you back until the back of your thighs hit the mattress. Megumi lets go of you, letting you fall back.

You giggle, scooting yourself up your bed and eyeing your strikingly hot boyfriend with his pretty abs out and staring down at you like he wants to devour you. Megumi just stares at you, his eyes raking over your pretty spread thighs, peeking at your lacy pink panties under your skirt, almost salivating at how pretty your tits look almost spilling out of your top– his eyes meet yours, your pretty eyes wide with lust and just pure adoration.

You are his favourite person.

“I love you.”

You pause, lips parting slightly as Megumi’s words finally sink in. You press up on your elbows, eyes widening, “what did you say?”

Megumi presses his lips together, wondering if he should back track. But no, he needs to be honest with you and himself, he owes it to you and to himself. “I said I love you.”

“You love me?” you pause, your bottom lip sticking out in a pout.

Megumi crawls onto the bed, body hovering over yours and his hands pinned on other side of your head as he just looks at you, taking in every part of you. “You told me I should be honest.”

You beam, “Megumi–”

“Don’t say anything,” he says softly, “js’ let it stay out there for a minute.”

You close your mouth, a smile tugging at your lips. Megumi grins at you, the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen, before he leans his head down, pressing his lips to yours. It’s slow and so loving, he’s gentle with you as one hand comes up to cradle your face.

He pulls away after a minute and you smile, “I love you too.”

Megumi pauses before he lets out an amused laugh, “yeah?”

“Yeah,” you giggle.

“Say it again,” he teases.

“I love you,” you whisper, holding his face in your hands. Megumi leans down, pressing a wet kiss to your neck. You tilt your head up to give him more access as his teeth gently nip at your skin.

“Again.”

“I love you, Gumi,” you whine out as he sucks on a particularly sensitive part of your neck, leaving a angry red mark on your skin.

Megumi’s hand slips under your top, pushing it up your tummy and over your tits. You help him pull your top over your head, leaving you in your skirt and your pretty pink lacy bra that makes your boobs sit like pretty soft pillows against your chest.

“S’beautiful,” Megumi mutters, trailing kisses down your neck and down between your tits, his hand snaking under your body to unclasp your bra.

No matter how many times Megumi sees you naked, you still get nervous under how intense yet adoring his gaze is. You feel your heart hammer in your chest as Megumi toys with your hardened nipples, his eyes occasionally flickering up to your face to catch your gaze.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whine.

Megumi chuckles, “like what? Like I love you?”

“Like you want to devour me,” you correct with an amused laugh.

“Mm, no promises,” he smiles, pressing a peck to your lips.

Megumi’s large veiny hand squeezes your soft breast, kneading the flesh in his hand while flicks his tongue over your hardened nipple, leaving hot wet kisses all over the pretty mound of skin. Your hand tangles in his hair, forcing his mouth down further. He gives a gentle bite to your skin, forcing a pretty whimper from your lips.

Megumi kisses down your tummy, one hand still squeezing your breast while the other trails up your thigh and underneath your skirt. You feel your skin prickle at the feeling of his gentle fingers trailing across your soft skin, his lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down your body.

You tug on Megumi’s wrist, forcing him back up your body, “what is it, baby?” He asks breathlessly.

You press a peck to his lips, “I wan’ you to touch me,” you murmur against his slightly chapped lips.

“Oh yeah?” Megumi asks, his tone a little teasing.

“Mhm,” you nod quickly.

Megumi chuckles, trailing his hands up the inside of your thigh and pressing his fingers against the damp patch forming on your panties, “mm, someone’s excited,” he teases.

“Shut up,” you mutter, forcing his lips back onto yours.

Megumi rubs against your clothed clit, feeling his cock twitch in his boxers at the sounds you were making because of him. The smell of your arousal lingers in the air of your room as Megumi forces your legs to spread open a little more, finally slipping his hand down your panties to feel your slick pussy against his fingers.

“S’wet, princess,” he murmurs against your cheek.

“All f’you,” you whine as Megumi nudges your clit with the tip of his middle finger.

Megumi pulls his hand from your panties, forcing you to whimper at the loss of contact but he quickly slips his fingers into the sides of your panties, pulling the soaked fabric down your legs and tossing them onto the floor.

Megumi manhandles you into his lap, laying his upper body against your headboard and forcing you to sit between his legs with your back to his chest.

“W-What are we doing?”

Megumi gently holds your jaw, forcing you to look at the mirror across the room in front of your bed, the same mirror you take your cute little outfit of the day photos in every day. You suddenly feel embarrassed seeing yourself so vulnerable. Your legs are spread, one knee hooked over Megumi’s muscular forearm while the other is propped up, forcing your soaked pussy lips open.

“Look how pretty you are,” Megumi mutters against your ear, his large hand squeezing at your tits.

“Gumi, this is embarrassing,” you whine.

Megumi presses a kiss to your cheek, “just watch.”

You press your mouth closed as Megumi trails his fingers down your tummy, dragging two of his fingers down your glistening slit. You throw your head against his shoulder as he nudges your neglected clit, fingertips circling the little bundle of nerves agonisingly slowly.

“F-Faster, Gumi, please,” you moan, your hands squeezing Megumi’s strong thighs.

“Shh,” Megumi coos, “be patient, baby.”

Megumi slips his fingers down your slit, pressing his middle finger against your sopping hole. Your thighs instinctively spread apart further and Megumi slowly slips his finger inside you, his long finger dragging against your gummy walls.

You whine, hand gripping his wrist as he starts to curl his finger inside you, pressing against that spongy spot inside you, “m-more.”

Megumi chuckles at your desperation, pressing a second finger into you. You whine at the burning stretch, subconsciously grinding your hips down on his fingers, your ass unknowingly grinding on his hard-on in his boxers.

“Look at you,” Megumi mutters against your ear.

Your eyes flicker up to your reflection. Your skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, your baby hairs are stuck to your forehead and Megumi’s eyes are glued to your cunt, watching his thick fingers disappear inside you. You whine, pussy clenching down on his fingers as he fucks them into you.

Megumi presses against the spongey spot inside you, the ball of his palm rubbing against your clit and making you fucking dizzy. You feel your tummy start to burn, your nails scraping against Megumi’s clothed thighs as your hips grind and roll against his hand.

“G-Gumi, m’gonna cum,” you whimper.

“S’okay, baby,” Megumi coos, “cum f’me.”

“N-No,” you force out, your hand wrapping around his strong wrist in an attempt to stop him from forcing an orgasm out of you.

“No?” Megumi slows his movements, the lewd squelching sounds in your room silencing as he gently pulls his fingers from your sopping pussy. “What’s wrong?”

You pant, whimpering as the burn in your tummy fades and you feel so fucking pent up. Megumi’s face is laced with concern as he turns you on your side in his lap. You give him a tired smile, “please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please,” you whine, “I need your cock, Gumi.”

Megumi grunts, “fuck, baby.”

“Please,” you beg, “please, I’ll be s’good.”

Megumi cups your face, pressing his lips hard against yours. Your swollen lips move against his, your hand tangling in his messy hair. Megumi pulls away from you slightly, pressing his arousal-soaked fingers against your tongue. You whine when you taste yourself on his fingers, your tummy jumping with excitement as you suck his fingers clean.

“Such a good girl,” Megumi praises, kissing your forehead.

Megumi forces you onto your back, your body bouncing against the soft mattress slightly. Megumi rests his thighs on either side of your hips, tugging your legs over his hips. You’ve never had your pussy this close to his cock and your mind is reeling with excitement.

Your shaky hands reach for the waistband of his pants but Megumi quickly forces your hands above your head, pinning your wrists together, “you said you’d behave.”

“Mm, you can’t blame me for being excited,” you whine pathetically.

Megumi only chuckles at how damn cute you are before he forces his pants down his hips, kicking them off across the room, leaving him in just his boxers. There’s a wet patch forming on his boxers and your mouth salivates at the idea of him finally fucking you with his big cock that you’ve had in your mouth many times before.

“S’big,” you compliment, wrists wriggling against his large hand still pinning them above your head.

“You sure about this?”

There’s a sudden intense seriousness in the air. You peer up at Megumi and he looks nervous, his teeth nipping at the inside of his bottom lip. He lets go of your wrists and you reach up to cup his face, forcing his steely eyes to meet yours, “Megumi Fushiguro,” you call softly.

“Mm?”

“I love you,” you sigh. “There’s no one I want more to take my virginity than you.”

Megumi lets out a shaky breath, “...you sure?”

“Never been more sure of anything in my life,” you grin.

“Because I really want you to be mine.”

“I’m already yours, Megumi.”

Megumi lets out a huff of a laugh, leaning down to pepper kisses across your forehead and down your nose to your lips, forcing a soft giggle from your chest.

Megumi reaches down slowly, pulling his boxers down his hips until his cock springs free, the angry red tip leaking with precum. You peer down at his pretty cock, eyeing the vein you trace with your tongue every time you suck him off, noting how heavy it is as it struggles to hold itself up.

Megumi sighs, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock and pumping a few times, his eyes never leaving yours. You cup his face, forcing him to kiss you one more time before he sits up, scooting his hips closer to yours.

He eyes you one more time, looking for any sign of regret or hesitation. You don’t offer any, eyes wide and almost sparkling with anticipation. Megumi holds his cock and lets it slap against your tummy, the tip almost reaching your belly button.

Your brows furrow and you wonder what he’s doing. Then it sort of dawns on you.

He’s sizing you up.

“M’gonna be right here,” Megumi presses the tip of his finger to the spot just below your belly button. His eyes meet yours and all you can do is meekly nod, your heart slamming against your chest. You knew Megumi was big but now that he’s fucking sizing you up and showing you where he’s gonna be inside you, you’re starting to get a little nervous.

But fuck you want him inside you.

You buck your hips up and Megumi chuckles, “s’eager.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” you grumble playfully. Megumi smiles, scooting your hips up and leaning over to quickly kiss your forehead one more time.

“You tell me if it gets too much,” Megumi says seriously. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You smile, “you won’t hurt me.”

Megumi nods slowly before gently gripping the head of his cock, rubbing the precum-covered tip against your swollen clit. Your hands grip the sheets and you bite your lip to keep the whines at bay. Megumi breathes heavily as he dips his tip down to your soaked hole, your arousal slipping out of you and dripping down your ass.

“Look at me,” Megumi orders softly.

You open your eyes, not realising you’d pressed them closed.

“Please,” Megumi sighs, “I wanna watch your face when I put it in.”

God, this fucking guy is gonna be the death of you.

He presses the tip into your cunt, groaning softly at your tightness as your pussy swallows his tip eagerly. Your thighs instinctively spread open to accommodate his size. He presses into you slowly, letting your tight cunt stretch around him to get used to his size.

“G-Gumi–” you whine out.

“Y-You okay, baby? What’s wrong?” Megumi stills his movements.

You pant slightly, chest heaving, “feels s’good.”

Megumi sighs a little in relief, hand coming up to cup your jaw as he presses his thick cock into you. He’s over halfway when you let out another whimper, your thighs shaking slightly with the stretch.

“Still okay?”

“Mhm, almost in?” you ask.

“Just over halfway.”

“Halfway?!” you force out.

Megumi chuckles before pressing his fingertip to the space between your pretty pussy lips and your belly button. “M’about here.”

“Holy fuck,” you pant. “So fucking big.”

“Don’t flatter me,” he chuckles. “It’ll go straight to my head,” he jokes.

“Mm, s’true.”

Megumi laces his fingers with yours on the sheets, his steely blue eyes staying glued to your face as he pushes the rest of the way in, your soaked pussy sucking him in. Once he finally bottoms out, you let out a shaky sigh at the fullness.

“F-Feel okay?” Megumi’s voice shakes, feeling like he’s gonna cum like a damn teenager with how tight you are around him.

“Mm,” you screw your eyes shut, “you can m-move.”

“You sure?”

“Uh huh,” you nod slowly.

Megumi leans down, lifting your arms and forcing them to wrap around his neck. He plants a kiss to your lips before pulling out– you whine– then he pushes himself back in. Your arms wrap around his neck, forcing Megumi’s head to rest against your shoulder as he pulls almost alllll the way out before plunging back into your tight heat.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Megumi groans, his hips snapping against yours as you hook your ankles together behind him, your thighs squeezing his waist. “S’good, princess.”

You moan and whine against his neck, feeling like he’s rearranging your fucking guts with how big his cock is and how hard he’s fucking you. It almost seems like Megumi needed this more than you with how his hips snap hungrily against yours.

You tip your head back, mouth falling open as he forces moan after moan from your pretty swollen lips. Megumi reaches a hand down between your bodies, rubbing his thumb over your neglected clit, forcing you closer and closer to orgasm.

His cock drags against your gummy walls, slick pooling around the base of his cock and soaking the sheets below as your nails drag against Megumi’s strong back, leaving angry red marks in their wake.

Megumi hisses at the feeling, groaning into your hair as he snaps his hips into yours a little faster, thumb still rubbing your clit, your room is filled with lewd squelching sounds, your pussy so wet and tight around him.

You feel the white-hot pleasure of your orgasm approaching, your belly burning as you arch your back off the bed, letting go of Megumi’s shoulders to grip the sheets.

Megumi suddenly sits up on his knees, lifting your hips in his strong hands, creating a new angle that makes you scream out in pleasure. His tip fucks against your cervix, surely leaving a bruise. You feel him in your tummy, his sheer size forming a bulge in your tummy.

“F-Fuck, look at you,” Megumi groans, eyeing the bulge in your tummy.

You toss your head from side to side, your toes curling as Megumi reaches for your hand, forcing you to press down on the bulge in your tummy, his hand over yours.

Then you just cum. There’s no warning as you gush around him, your vision going stark white as you spray your orgasm across Megumi’s pelvis, his thighs, your own thighs and all over the sheets.

“Fuck, did you just squirt?”

You don’t say anything, you can’t. You’re mumbling incoherent noises as Megumi fucks you through your high, his hips snapping harder and harder against yours as he chases his own orgasm. You’re both covered in a thin sheen of sweat and Megumi feels his orgasm fast approaching.

He pulls out of you with a quiet pop, quickly jerking himself off, your arousal making his cock slippery as he cums across your tummy. Hot ropes of cum paint your abdomen and tummy, Megumi panting as he squeezes the base of his cock.

“Mm, you’re fucking perfect, sweet girl,” Megumi praises, panting as he comes down from his high.

“Mm, Gumi,” you whine, voice quiet.

Megumi gently lowers you onto the bed, crawling up your body to cup your face, “are you okay? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head, “mm-mm, felt s’good.”

Megumi sighs with relief, “we gotta get you up, you have to pee and I gotta clean up–” he peers down at the utter mess you’ve made of the sheets, “–somehow.”

“Sleepover?” You beam.

Megumi chuckles, “sleepover.”

Megumi carries you to the bathroom, running you a warm bath. The two of you share a bath together, Megumi gently washing you hair for you while you make him a bubble crown. You’re obviously sore with how you limp down the hallway to Megumi’s room, clutching your pillow under your arm.

You rest your head against Megumi’s chest, his fingers gently smoothing over your wet hair and tracing down your bare arm.

“Any regrets?” He asks curiously.

“Mm, no,” you reply with a smile. “You made me squirt my first time having sex… I think you have to marry me,” you giggle.

Megumi chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “mm, maybe one day.”

You giggle, sitting up to press a kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweet girl,” Megumi pauses, “what is that?”

“What’s what?”

“That,” Megumi points to the bored-looking penguin plush he got you. It’s pressed to your chest right between your boobs.

“Oh, you mean your son?”

“Y/N,” he groans. “Get that thing out.”

“I will not!”

“I’ll throw it out the window while you’re sleeping.”

You gasp, “don’t do that to your son!”

“It’s not my son!”

author's note: HEHEHEHEHEHEH

taglist: @starpachinko @2ukika @sukunabish @somethinglikero @wannabewolf @milliex01x @princessa143 @hrithi11 @katsukita69 @slayzzz @arcanefeelings @shirabu-k @izzzzzzig @zah2890 @evergumi @aerareads @flashilyquinn @raedollsstuff @happylildeath @anormieee @l1v1ngzomb1e @kimkimoruo @sunnyf4lls @saekolust @kalulakunundrum @xastoriaaurax @feliaeae @sleepyxzn @raya4643 @kaidostwin

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borathae · 7 months ago

Text

Bonded

“You didn’t think that having Jungkook save you from an abusive arranged marriage by marking you would mean that you would have to marry him instead. Yet here you are. Bonded to him for life, with his father threatening to ban you if you fuck it up and with your marriage night one step away. It wouldn’t be that scary if you weren’t aware that his family doesn’t bond with omegas.”

Pairing: Alpha!Jungkook x f. omega!Reader

Genre: Werewolves!AU, forced marriage!AU, childhood best friends to lovers!AU, marriage night!AU, Angst, Romance, SMUT

Warnings: Hard Dom!Jungkook, happy sub!Reader, size & strength kink, he is a lot taller than her, angst & misunderstandings in the beginning, poor woman gets threatened left and right at her own bonding party, please protect her, Kook is hurt by her at first but the problem gets solved hihi, her brother is a dick tbfh, insanely protective!Jungkook, whipped Alpha in loveeee, lots of kisses and touches, he is really soft with her & just a lil nervous, he is so lethal tbfh no wonder she gets turned on by him so easily bahaha, kissing & biting of her scent spots, the spots are on her neck and her tits and her inner thighs, he accidentally stimulates them long enough that she goes into heat, which makes him go into his ruts <3, this is a really passionate bonding night for sureeee, intense and hungry nipple sucking, her poor omega tits swell and produce sweet liquid (not milk just idk omega liquid lmaloaooa listen I made this up as I was going and it's hot), Jungkook eats it upppp, sooooo much slick, lots of drool and tears hihih, rough penetrative sex with his big alpha cock, knotting, lots of orgasms for both, breeding with his hot cum mhmh, listen he fucks her roughly while he is knotted which means she repeatedly gets penetrated by his knot, she likes it cause she is so into him, stimulation of her cervix which feels really good for an omega, she is in heaven with him fr, he never felt as good before as well, sex in missionary then in mating press and then just tangled up in a mess of limbs, praise, hand holding, he calls her "baby" & "my love" & "princess", the cuddliest and safest and giggliest aftercare, they're not aware of it yet but they're true mates <3, oh yeah! they break the bed

Wordcount: 15.8k

a/n: YOU HOES (affectionately) ASKED FOR IT AND THIS HOE (me, derogatory) LISTENED!!! I FUCKING LISTENED!!! AND I AGREED!! We need more Alpha!Kook in our life and on this blog. This is the hottest smut ever like (tmi but) i need to jerk it afterwards, which rarely happens with my smut HFAHDSFH i need him to be my alpha husband and rearrange my guts daily tbfh 😔 have fun besties, i hope this is a worthy enough sequel to the first part 😩💛 ps: for all you omegaverse veterans, i'm still a newbie to this AU and this story is MY interpretation of the AU hehe any rule changes are done intentional to my comfort levels <3

If you knew that agreeing to Jungkook’s plan would mean This, perhaps you never would have agreed. Perhaps if the night hadn’t been so stormy and you so hopeless, you wouldn’t have said yes.

But you did and now you are here. In front of the entire pack, in a long dress as your pack’s priest is talking about eternal faithfulness. You knew that being marked by an alpha would mean that you had to be with him, but didn’t think it would mean This.

Your family is in the audience. First row, next to Jungkook’s family. Your brother stares at you with a look you can’t quite make out. You still can’t really stand his face. Jungkook’s father seems displeased and you don’t blame him. The little stunt you pulled made alpha Urquard furious and it was Jungkook’s father who had to take care of it. He wanted to trade another omega at first, but Jungkook stopped him before that could happen. You didn’t get to see Jungkook for two whole days after this incident and when he came back, his upper lip was chipped and he didn’t want to talk about what happened.

“Urquard’s not gonna bother our pack again. That’s all you need to know”, he told you tiredly while you tried to nurse his lip. “And there’s something else. It’s about us”, he then continued.

“About us? What about us?”

“If we wanna keep living here, we have to do something.”

“What do we have to do?”

“And with this kiss, I may pronounce you husband and wife”, the priest says and howls. The rest of the pack follows. Everyone, except Jungkook’s father who is staring holes into you darkly. It is custom for werewolves to howl for a newly bonded couple. It is meant to bring luck and happiness into the marriage. Having the pack alpha refuse this ritual is not a good sign.

You gulp down the heavy lump in your throat, shifting your nervous eyes to Jungkook. He seems nervous too, clasping your clammy hands. He closes the distance. Thankfully the howls are loud enough to mask your voices.

“He isn’t-”

“I know. Ignore him. He’s a stubborn idiot.” Jungkook cups your cheek. “Can I kiss you?”

You hesitate, feeling dizzy from lack of oxygen in your lungs. His father isn’t howling. What if Jungkook doesn’t want this bond either? If you knew that your night with him would end in marriage, maybe you wouldn’t have said yes to him. He wants to kiss you, doesn’t he? His eyes are studying your lips. You want to kiss him too, but it is so scary to go for it. What if he doesn’t want this bond? You hesitate and hesitate. As a matter of fact, you hesitate long enough for the howls to die down.

Heavy, thick silence follows. The pack stares. The priest stares. Jungkook’s father stares. Jungkook himself stares.

“Hey uhm, this is the part where you kiss me”, he whispers.

“I know”, you whisper back.

The priest clears his throat. Jungkook licks his lips nervously, still waiting for your consent. Someone in the audience coughs.

If you knew that agreeing to Jungkook’s plan would lead to having to bond with him, perhaps you never would have agreed. He promised you that you would just have to pretend, that you wouldn’t have to be with him if you didn’t want to and yet here you are. You are now officially his mate. Well, not until you kissed him. You really want to kiss him, but it’s so scary.

“You have to kiss for the bond to be sealed”, the priest whispers as well.

You glance at the audience. Your family seems nervous. Jungkook’s father seems hopeful but also very angry. You look at Jungkook, whose eyes have darkened slightly.

“It seems that the bond is invali-”, the priest tries to announce loudly, but before he can finish his sentence, Jungkook silences him by pulling you into the kiss.

You gasp, eyes wide open and body frozen. His big hand is on the back of your head, keeping you close. The priest sees it as a sign and begins the howling again. It fills the wedding house, almost sounding like melodies of joy. But you feel sick to the stomach. You are mated for life. Jungkook made sure of it and you made sure of how your marriage will be because you hesitated. You can see it in his eyes once he pulls back and they are as cold as ice. Holy fuck, you messed up.

The iciness of his stare continues long into the festivities. It is the duty of the newly bonded couple to open the dance floor with a dance. You and Jungkook have to wait behind a curtain to be called to the floor. You arrive a little later than him because your mother wanted to talk to you before that. Something about being a good mate to him. You didn’t really listen because she pissed you off.

Jungkook sends you an icy glare, tonguing his cheek.

“You”, you stomp to him. Your mother made you angry enough that you feel the need to take it out on him.

He watches you with a cocked up brow. You shove at his chest. He doesn’t budge, but stares with widened eyes.

“How dare you force the kiss onto me like this. You took away my choice”, you hiss.

“Tch.”

“Don’t tch me. You said that it was my choice. You forced me.”

He tenses his jaw, looking anywhere but you. You shove him again with no chance of moving him.

“Did you hear me?”

“I don’t know if you already forgot the five prior conversations we had, but if we didn’t bond today, my dad would have banished us both. I made sure that this wouldn’t happen”, he answers you snappishly.

“This still doesn’t give you the right to kiss me like this”, you throw back, shoving at his chest.

He doesn’t budge, taking your hands to stop you from shoving him again. His grip is strong and possessive, but doesn’t hurt.

“The priest was gonna renounce our bond. I had to act fast”, he hisses.

“Yeah well, I didn’t want to be forced into it.”

“I know that by now”, Jungkook spits and swipes your hands away, turning a cold shoulder to you. He crosses his arms in front of his chest so tightly it looks as if he is trying to hug himself.

“I want an apology for it”, you insist.

“I’m sorry.”

You falter for a moment, not having expected it.

“I’m sorry, okay? Just. Drop it now, please.”

“Drop it? Excuse me?”

Jungkook turns his head away.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

No eye contact.

“Jungkook?”

“I’m done talking to you”, he grumbles.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you hurt me.”

You gawk at him, holding your breath. He turns to you, meeting your eyes with such urgency it feels as if he is trying to drown you in the connection.

“All this talk about not wanting me to hold back. You told me not to stop telling you that you’re mine. Was it just empty talk?” he asks.

His heartbroken scent makes you feel heavy in your chest.

“What? I, I don’t- what?” you stutter.

“Did it ever mean something to you?”

“Kook, I-”

“Don’t call me that”, he hisses and steps closer. The thing is, however, that you don’t feel the instinctive need to step back. He doesn’t feel dangerous to you. Not because he isn’t scary, because he definitely is, but because you know for a fact that he wouldn’t hurt you. “Don’t call me that after what you did today.”

You gulp. He puts his hand over his heart, eyes showing how hurt he feels. His voice quivers as he speaks.

“You made me have my first knot ever. You, you made me feel so good that I bit you. You had your first knotting orgasm through me. I was fucking alive inside you”, he say and puts his other hand on your stomach where you once allowed him to feel himself in you.

You gasp and tense at the touch, putting your hand over his’. His touch seeps into you, reminding you how it was to carry his warmth inside you. Everything inside you wants him within the first touch. The connection is so intense that you draw closer to him instinctively.

“I thought that it meant something to you too. So why did you hesitate?” he stresses, eyes racing between yours.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Jungkook pulls his hand away from your stomach. “Wow, okay.”

“Kook, please.”

“Forget it. Let’s just get it over with”, he hisses and a second later, the curtains open and you have to pretend to be a happy couple.

He takes your hand, leading you to the dance floor while howls and claps cheer you on. He positions you and him in the middle of the dance floor, looking down at you with a tightened face.

The music starts. So does the dance.

Jungkook leads it, you follow. He holds you so close. He looks so deeply into your eyes. To anyone else it must seem as if he can’t get enough of his wife, but you are close enough to him that you know his true feelings. He wants this stupid dance to end as quickly as possible.

You can’t bear to look up at him any longer, lowering your eyes.

“Don’t. Look up.”

You obey instinctively.

“You’ve already fucked up the kiss, don’t fuck up the dance as well.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s already a little too late for that, isn’t it?” he says and leans you back as part of the dance. For just a second you see the world upside down before he lifts you again, holding you against his chest as he twirls over the dance floor with you. It makes your dress dance with you and blurs the world around you. He furrows his brows.

“Did it ever mean anything to you?” he asks.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes or no? It’s a simple answer.”

“I was desperate and I-”

“Wow.”

“I, I just meant that I don’t know if it meant what it meant to you.”

“Stop talking, seriously.”

You gulp. Jungkook looks away.

“You have to look at me”, you whisper panickedly.

“Don’t worry, the dance is already fucked”, Jungkook says and coincidentally enough, the music switches just this moment. The rest of the pack fills the dance floor, but you barely notice them.

Jungkook steps back and leaves you in the middle of the dance floor. Your chest feels tight. You didn’t want it to come to this. Of course it meant something to you, but he cornered you right now and you tend to say the wrong things under pressure. You didn’t want to give him a dishonest answer, but didn’t have the full answer ready yet. Oh god, this isn’t what you wanted to happen.

Sudden fear fills you. You know instantly that his father is next to you. You force yourself to look at him, holding your breath.

“Ruin this bond, you and your family can look for a new pack. Understood?”

You nod your head fearfully.

“Speak up!”

“Yes! Understood!”

“That’s better. Fucking, bratty omega. Just because my son can’t keep his dick in his pants. I’ll teach him how to discipline you, be sure of that”, he says with a deadly glare and turns his back to you, leaving you in the middle of the dance floor.

You bite back tears.

Alcohol. You need to forget this night. Yes, that’s the solution.

Werewolf bonding parties aren’t that different from human wedding parties. There is good music, delicious food, lots of dancing and even more laughter. There is also, of course, the occasional friendly fighting between two wolves, which may seem scary to a human but is perfectly normal to your species. There is even a saying that if a bonding party doesn’t have friendly fighting, the bond will not last. A part of you had hoped that your party would be such a party just so it wouldn’t be you who ruins the marriage and therefore has to carry the alpha’s wrath. But your wish wasn’t granted the moment you watched Yoongi and Hoseok start a friendly wrestling march next to the margaritas bar.

Speaking of margaritas, you are drunk on them by now. Way too drunk, barely able to stand on two feet.

“Fuck, I need air”, you get out and turn to leave. You run your eyes over the crowd. Your family is by their table, your brother follows you with his eyes. You must be way too drunk because for a second it felt as if he was hunting you with them. You break contact, spotting Jungkook next. He is talking to one of the betas, Seokjin. He also seems terribly drunk. You look away quickly, stumbling past him on your way outside. He follows you with his eyes as you do, but you are too drunk to notice.

The night is cold. A welcome change to the stuffy air inside. Tonight is a new moon. You look up at the moonless sky. Weddings under a new moon mean that they will last long. That’s what the legends say. The new life together starts with the new cycle of the moon. First the fighting, now this. Your marriage seriously wants to last, doesn’t it?

You stumble to a quiet corner, resting against the wall. The music is blurred behind a veil of alcohol and the thick walls of the venue.

The thing is, it’s not that you had to bond with Jungkook which upsets you so much. It is the fact that it had to happen under such circumstances. You are sure that if he didn’t have to mark you in order to save your life, he would have never even thought about taking you as a mate. You know how his family thinks. A wolf with the alpha gen should mate with another wolf with the alpha gen. Bonding with an omega isn’t a thing in Jungkook’s family. And this is what scares you. You are an omega in a family of alphas and his father seems to fucking hate it. What if Jungkook hates it too? He talked about keeping you safe and not wanting to let you go, but he probably didn’t think that he would have to mate with you. He was probably high on his afterglow and talked without thinking.

“Urgh”, you let out, grinding your fangs.

But then, why was he so upset that you hesitated? Was it because he wanted to own you as quickly as possible? But he smelled heartbroken. Someone who is merely upset about not owning you wouldn’t smell like this. This is confusing you so much.

“Who knew that you would be married before me.”

You turn your head to your brother. You must be really drunk because his eyes still seem so different.

“It’s crazy to imagine that you came back and got bonded”, he says.

“Only because you fucked up and I almost had to die for it. Otherwise, Jungkook would have never had to step in and I would have never had to bond with him”, you throw back.

Your brother studies you with furrowed brows.

“Look, I said that I’m sorry and I am. It was an accident. I thought that she was a deer.”

“Tch, sure. I know you were into her. I watched you sneak away sometimes to see her. You got jealous and decided to kill her because you couldn’t bear the thought that she was to be with someone else. Admit it”, you challenge him because you know that it was bullshit. Your brother would never kill someone out of jealousy.

Something changes in your brother’s face, however. Your brother disappears, the face of an ice cold killer stares back at you. The face of a killer who killed before and who would do it again. He steps closer and you instinctively step back. Fear and the desire to flee overcomes you. It is difficult however when he has you cornered. It is a dark corner and there are no people around.

“What, what are you doing? You, you are scary”, you stutter.

“You know, you were never supposed to come back.”

“What?”

“If I were you, I’d be careful with your words from now on”, he warns, dragging the back of his hand down your face, “are we understood, sister?”

You whimper instinctively, avoiding his eyes. His touch feels like sandpaper on your skin. He comes closer. You are so scared.

“Are we under-”, he stumbles back as a strong hand tugs him away from you. It is so rough in fact that he squeaks against his will.

“Do we have a problem here?” Jungkook growls, stepping between you and your brother. He is huffing his air, torso stretching the fabric of his suit because his protectiveness is making his body grow. Your brother tries to take a step closer, but instantly stops with just one deep growl of Jungkook.

Your brother looks at you for a brief moment. The person you once knew is gone from his eyes.

“I was already leaving”, he presses out and turns his back to leave. He knows better than to pick a fight with Jungkook. He gets as far as one step before the latter pulls him back.

He tries to fight him in reaction, but gives up quickly when Jungkook renders him useless with a strong grip on his chin. His claws dimple his skin, threatening to break through. He is towering over your brother by now.

“You are the one who is going to start picking his words carefully from now on. She is under my protection now. Is that clear?”

“Is this supposed to scare me?”

“Don’t test me.” Jungkook hisses, shaking him by his chin. “I’ll let you go tonight because you’re her brother and I don’t wanna break her heart, but you threaten her again and you’re dead. Are we understood?” he snarls his words, eyes dangerously golden and sharp fangs on full display.

“Yes”, your brother croaks out.

“Speak up!” Jungkook barks, shaking him.

“Yes! I’m sorry, yes!”

“Good. Now leave, you’re ruining my wife’s mood”, Jungkook growls and pushes him away.

The man, who was once your brother, stumbles back and runs off with his tail tucked between his legs.

Jungkook stares him down until he truly left and only then, he turns to you. He puts his hands on your upper arms, touching you so gently one might never know how roughly he handled your brother seconds ago. His features are clouded over with worry. His body is smaller again and his muscles shrunk back to their relaxed size.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” he asks, studying you worriedly.

You shake your head, gasping for air in small, helpless breaths.

“Hey, sshhh you’re okay now. You’re okay”, he says, hugging you against his chest. One hand is on your back, the other on the back of your head. The calming scent of him engulfs you, masking your own frightened scent.

“People need to stop threatening me tonight”, you get out, sobbing into him.

“You’re okay, baby. You’re okay”, he keeps repeating the words, placing little kisses all over the crown of your head.

The fight of earlier feels far away to both of you. Especially to him.

It wasn’t long after you stumbled past him, that he followed you outside. At first he followed you with the intent of confronting you again, but then he saw that you were talking to your brother and he stayed back. Because of his heightened senses, he heard everything of your conversation with him. He also smelled your fear even before hearing your whimper and it drove up his desire to protect you to such levels that he has to tremble now that he finally holds you safe and sound.

“You’re okay. I’m here now. I’m here.”

You tilt your head up, meeting his eyes.

“This wasn’t my brother anymore.”

“I know, I’m sorry”, he says, wiping your tears.

“He murdered her. Kook, he is a murderer.”

“I heard everything. I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

“He looked at me as if he wanted to kill me too.”

“I wouldn’t have let him. He’d have been dead if he tried.”

“Kook”, you get out and hide away in his chest.

You smell so sad and heartbroken and scared. Jungkook feels parts of his body cramp from how much he trembles. He wants to protect you more than he already does. It is driving him insane that he can’t do more for you.

“Jungkook, I wanna go home but I don’t…” Your sad scent reaches its peak as tears roll down your cheeks. “I don’t even know where that is anymore”, you press out and sob.

“Hey no, don’t cry. I’ll take you home”, Jungkook says and puts his arm around you to lead you away from the venue. You let your head fall against him, crying loudly because everything is just a lot for you.

“Do we have to tell anyone? Can we just leave? What if they ask questions? I don’t know what to do anymore, I don’t-”

“Hey, everything is gonna be okay. We’re the bridal couple, they’ll just have to accept the fact that we left early.”

You nod your head in understanding. You are so glad that he took control right now. You would have been lost and overwhelmed without him.

You walk home side by side. It happens for comfort reasons that, after a while, you and he stop hugging so close. You are in nothing but your dress and he is in nothing but his suit. The streets are empty and quiet because the entire pack is currently at your wedding party.

You already walked long enough that you managed to calm down from the initial shock. It is an unspoken truth between you and him that you don’t want to talk about what happened. This means, however, that your walk is silent and that feels really awkward.

The town you grew up in hasn’t changed much ever since you were a child. The same trees still grow along the same streets, except that they are a lot taller these days. The same houses are still home to the same people and bonding nights are still held in the town’s sports hall.

Said sports hall is still close to the playground and the way home still leads through it.

You and Jungkook slow down as you walk down a metaphorical memory lane. You scraped your knee on the slide when you were eight and he had to blow on it to make it better. Jungkook sprained his ankle jumping off the swing when he was nine and you had to hold his hand as his mother rubbed it better again. Under the weeping willow, you and your friends played the silly little dares and you had your first kiss with him.

You look away from the tree, meeting Jungkook’s eyes. He looked at it as well. You turn your head away, feeling your throat tighten in panic. Jungkook feels his heart twist in reaction. The better voice in him says not to dwell on it, the love drunk idiot in him tells him to fight for it. He wins in the end.

“Wanna sit on the swings?” he suggests.

“And do what?”

“I don’t know. Swing? Sober up a little?”

You contemplate for a second, nodding your head in the end.

You weren’t even aware of how much you needed to sit until you are on the swing, stretching out your legs. You hate heels. They’re the worst shoes ever invented. You swing back and forth slowly, Jungkook does the same. This is still the same swing set you and he played on twenty years ago. The chains still leave this weird metallic smell on your hands and the rusty hinges seem to creak even more these days. You look up at the sky. The stars are so clear without the moon hiding them in her shine. You know this view all too well. In your left vision there are some branches of a maple tree and in the right a electrical pole is peaking at you. The view is familiar to you because twenty years ago, you and Jungkook sat at the same swing in the same order like you do today.

You dare to glance at him. He is looking at the sky, unaware of your eyes on him. His face is relaxed, his lips slightly parted in awe of the vast universe. His eyes are the darkest brown right now, reflecting the stars. The street lights behind him illuminate the edges of his silhouette, glimmering in parts of his dark hair as well. He is so beautiful when he thinks that no one is looking.

To think that you subconsciously chose the same swing even after all these years. He broke your heart like this fifteen years ago and now you are back, bonded. Your heart feels heavy. You shouldn’t have hesitated. You don’t know how Jungkook feels about this bond, but you get a feeling that you shouldn’t have hesitated.

A gust of wind sweeps through the playground and makes you shiver. Your teeth clatter and you wrap your arms around yourself to rub your freezing skin. He looks at you, studying you.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“It’s fine. I just wasn’t planning on being outside for so long. I only wanted to catch some air for a bit. I’m kinda drunk.”

Jungkook stands up from his swing.

You watch him, confused.

He shrugs off his suit jacket and closes the distance to put it over your shoulders. It is warmed up from him, instantly stilling your shivers. It also smells like him, making you just a little droopy. He hovers his hands over your shoulders because he doesn’t know if you want his touch, talking in a soft voice.

“Is this better?”

“Yeah, thanks”, you whisper, feeling your heart race.

“Good. Keep it. I’m too hot anyway”, he says and leaves your side to sit down next to you.

He swings back and forth gently, watching some leaves dance on the ground as the wind carries them. Now is the perfect opportunity to talk, but he feels mute. He doesn’t want to fuck it up. Or perhaps he just doesn’t want to get hurt again.

He dances his eyes over the playground, reminiscing on all the memories he shares with you here. You and he could have been so right and then his father fucked him up. Jungkook forces down the heavy lump in his throat.

“What’s wrong?”

He looks at you with widened eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m an omega. I can smell when people around me are upset.”

“Ah. I don’t know. I guess, just thinking of old stuff”, he says and rubs the side of his neck.

“Yeah. Lots of memories here”, you say and sigh.

Jungkook sees it as his cue to ask you what he had planned to ask you before he witnessed you with your brother instead.

“Why did you hesitate?”

You almost fall off the swing in shock. Jungkook takes your hand, providing you with support. He feels vast of air when you instinctively squeeze him back and intertwine your fingers deeper. There they are again. Those mixed signals. You say one thing, but do the other. You do another thing, but say the complete opposite. Jungkook can barely take the confusion anymore, repeating his question again.

“I get it that you were nervous, but it looked like you didn’t want to kiss me at all. Why?”

“I just…”, you pull your hand back, swinging gently to soothe yourself.

Jungkook swings as well, looking at you.

“All of this is a lot for me. I went from a normal woman to a sex slave by a snatch to an omega marked, to a wife in the span of two weeks. This is a lot to work through.”

“Yeah, when you put it like this, it really is.”

“I didn’t think that our little stunt in the shed would lead to this.”

“Yeah honestly, neither did I. I thought that they would want us to date for a little and that’s it.”

“Yeah”, you agree and glance at him. “I’m scared that you are only doing this because your dad forced you. That’s why I hesitated. I saw the way he looked at me.”

“Don’t think about him. He is old and unhappy. He didn’t force me. Not when I…I dreamt of having you as my wife ever since I’ve known you.”

“What?”

You stop swinging. Jungkook stops as well, turning with the swing to face you.

“I think that’s why I kissed you. The priest wanted to announce that it’s invalid and I panicked and went in. I just needed to know that this wouldn’t be lost forever.”

“Oh my god, you dreamed of bonding with me?” you press out, eyes full of emotions.

“Ever since I’ve known you. Well, you know, ever since I knew what bonding meant. I always wanted it to be with you.”

“Kook…”

He rests his head against the metal chain, reaching his hands out for you. You turn with your swing and take his hands, feeling your pulse in your neck because of how high he raises it. His thumbs draw hearts on your skin, his eyes are so soft.

“Yeah, I guess it’s out there now”, he says, laughing softly.

“It is”, you whisper and squeeze his hands.

Jungkook squeezes them right back, smiling with his eyes before it washes over his lips as well.

“I can’t believe you’re telling me this on the same swing set you best friend broke up with me when we were twelve.”

He laughs, lifting his brows for it. It’s such a cute laugh, making you laugh with him.

“Correction, where I was forced to best friend break up with you ‘cause my dad is a control freak.”

“Right. I’m sorry that your dad sucks.”

"Yeah, I guess I got used to it. He’s my dad, that’s how he is.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Thanks.” Jungkook says and lets go of your hands to twirl back to the front. He takes a deep breath and stands up.

“Where are you going?”

“If I remember correctly, you always loved the swing the most.”

“I did, but what’s that got to do with anything?”

He walks behind you and puts his hands on the chain of the swing.

“Hold on tight.”

“Huh? Oh!”

He pushes you, making you swing back and forth. You squeal, having to laugh afterwards. Jungkook snickers with you, pushing you a second time to make you swing higher. Your shared laughter dances through the playground and in this short moment in life’s series of moments, you and he feel like kids again. There are no responsibilities lingering in the back of your heads, no fears of the future, no stresses of past days nor dreams ruined by reality. You and he are twelve again, using the swings after a long day of playing adventurers in the forests. The stars shine brighter and the wind doesn’t feel that cold anymore. You are alive again, flying to the very stars with each push Jungkook gives you.

“Not too high please, I’ll get scared”, you squeal, feeling tears of laughter run down your cheeks.

“Don’t worry, I won’t push you too high. I never did, remember?”

You and he talk as he continues to push you on the swing.

“If I remember correctly, you sometimes pushed me way too high because you were a gremlin like that.”

“A gremlin? Wow, okay”, he laughs and pushes you extra hard as playful revenge.

“Hey! No, it’s too high!” you squeak, laughing way too much.

Jungkook does it again.

“Kook please! I’m gonna fall, ah!”

And it happens. Your drunk ass falls off the swing. You squeal, preparing for impact which never comes. Instead he catches you in his strong arms, looking down at you with protective, caring eyes.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

“Yeah, thanks”, you whisper, watching his lips move. You giggle, dropping your head on his shoulder, “fuck, I’m too clumsy for this.”

“Hah, yeah.”

Jungkook noticed that you looked at his lips. For just a second, he wanted to kiss you. In the end, he didn’t. He won’t ever kiss you again without your consent.

He sets you down gently, holding both your hands against his chest. You look up at him, feeling a little robbed of air. His eyes race between yours as if he trying to build connection between your souls with just one look.

“I promise to be a good husband to you. No harm shall ever come to you through my hands and if I should ever break this promise, it is your right to strike me down. You have my body as protection and my heart to find a home in, ___. You always have and you always will.”

“You keep saying that. Does it mean..?”

“It does. It means that I love you and that I’ll do anything to make you happy.” He exhales shakily. “I know that you don’t feel the same and I’m sorry again that I kissed you. Please, can you forgive-”

You put your finger on his lips, silencing him. He whimpers a little because of it.

“Can I say something now? Please?”

“Of course”, he says and steps back, fumbling with his own hands nervously.

“I’m not mad at you anymore that you kissed me. I, I was planning to kiss you, I was. I just, I saw your dad and he wasn’t howling and then I thought that we’re only in this situation because you had to save me. And I panicked and I was scared that we’d regret it and yeah.”

He nods his head in understanding, lowering his eyes sadly. You take his hand.

“It meant something to me too.”

He meets your emotional eyes, feeling emotional himself.

“It meant something to me, maybe not the same as it did to you but it did mean something to me. I wanted to tell you this, but didn’t know how. I get nervous when I’m cornered and I forget my words and then say dumb stuff.”

“I get it. I’m sorry that I cornered you. I guess I have the tendency to be pushy when I’m nervous. I shouldn’t have cornered you, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah well, I should have said something. I liked what we did in the shed and it meant something to me.” You put his hand on your stomach. “You were alive inside me and it was the best feeling I ever experienced.”

Jungkook sighs your name, instinctively drawing closer to you.

“But we also barely know each other as adults. What if we realize that we’re not right as mates once we get to know each other?”

“I don’t think that will happen. I’m still the same than I was before, just older.”

“You’re an alpha these days.”

“I am and I’ll use this status to provide for you and to keep you safe. I promise.”

“Really?” you whisper, looking up at him with those same puppy eyes you had in the shed.

Jungkook feels weak in the knees. Those eyes are lethal to him.

“Yes, really. All I want is someone to provide for, someone to care for and protect. And for that someone to be you. I just. I wanna keep you safe, ___”, he says.

“Oh”, you let out and exhales shakily.

“Mhm, yeah”, he breathes and brushes the back of his fingers down your temple.

“But”, you begin.

“Yes?”

“But not too much. I don’t want you to get hurt”, you say and trace his upper lip. The cut healed by now, but the memory of how it looked is still in your mind. Jungkook chases your touch, closing his fingers around your wrists. He holds you tenderly, tracing the spots most sensitive with his thumbs.

“Alright, not too much”, he whispers, smiling softly.

You share silence, looking at the other. Jungkook is the one to break it.

“We’ll get to know each other again and it’s gonna be nice. I want to make this work”, he whispers.

“I wanna make it work too. Not for the sake of my safety or anything, but because I wanna love you too.”

“You do?”

You nod your head.

Jungkook exhales shakily, closing the distance for a kiss. He stops just a breath away.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

You give him your answer by erasing the remaining distance, connecting your lips with his’. His knees buckle, his arms instantly fall around you to hold you close. The world around you seems non-existent as your lips are lost in the kind of kiss a bonded couple should exchange. It is epic. Jungkook feels so alive. He knows that if he tried hard enough, he could touch the stars.

You feel the same. This kiss is your reminder that whatever you and he have is out of your control. It is a bond made by fate, formed under a new moon. This is how you felt in the shed when he was alive inside you.

Those feelings are heightened because of the alcohol, forcing you closer to him. Which makes him lose control for just a second, ending in you pressed up against the swing set post and with his hand on your lower back.

It knocks out a soft moan from you. Jungkook answers it in a deep purr, sliding his right hand to your cheek to tilt your head higher. He sucks on your lower lip, ending it with a gentle bite.

The effect is instant for you. Slick begins to gather between your legs, your head gets droopy and everything inside you screams at you to give yourself to him.

Breathing shakily, you break the kiss. He stays close, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes and parted lips.

“Oh my god”, you whisper, tracing your own lips. They’re tingling from what he did.

“Yeah. Right?” he agrees, scrunching his nose and stubbing your temple with his forehead in a gesture of adoration. “Who’d have known that we’d kiss like this here”, he says, gazing at you.

Your eyes soften in submission. Jungkook feels drawn to you beyond repair.

“Keep looking at me with those eyes and we won’t reach home tonight”, he rasps, touching your waist as he basically undresses you with his eyes. “I’d take you right here and now. Make you feel so good that you see new constellations.”

Drunk you cannot handle talk like this, breaking into giddy giggles and hiding away in his chest.

“Are you laughing at me?” he gasps.

“No, oh god no. It’s just, nobody ever talked to me like this before”, you explain yourself between giggles, nuzzling closer.

Jungkook chuckles, rubbing your back.

“Get used to it. I realised that I’m kinda outta control when it comes to you. Maybe it’s the alpha gen.”

“Maybe”, you look up at him with pretty puppy eyes, arms wrapped around his waist and chin resting against his chest.

He stubs your nose with his own, hands groping your butt possessively.

“Stop looking at me.”

“It’s hard. When you touch me, I also lose control. I think it’s the omega gen.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you’re just a lightweight.”

“Hah! So you’re saying I’m just drunk?”

“Basically, yeah.”

You snicker, Jungkook grins.

“Come on, let’s go home before I actually do something indecent to you.”

You gladly let him hold your hand now that his kiss triggered your affectionate instincts, following him in happy steps.

Your walk home ends at Jungkook’s house. Two stories high and with a big garden surrounding it, it was one of the more luxurious houses in town.

“This is where we’ll live?”

“If you want to. I figured, you know, given how you still live with your parents and I’m living alone, we could use my place. It’s totally fine if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Yes? Great then we can get your stuff in the coming days. But for now, let me do this right”, he says and swoops you off your feet.

“Ah”, you let out, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. “What are you doing?”

“Carrying you over the threshold. Why?”

“Nothing, it’s so”, you stop talking to giggle instead, nuzzling your nose against his cheek. “It’s so cheesy.”

Jungkook chuckles, heart racing in his chest. He kicks the door closed behind him and does a twirl in the middle of his hallway.

“Wait! I’m too drunk for this! Eeek”, you squeak, hiding away in his neck. “Please stop, I’m too dizzy.”

Luckily for you, Jungkook listens. He stops and sets you down, holding you close as you sway.

“This wasn’t funny. Oh god, I’m dizzy”, you laugh, dropping your forehead against his chest. He rests his cheek against your head, talking in a chuckle.

“See? Told you. Total lightweight.”

“I’m not a lightweight. You’re just a gremlin”, you say and shove at his chest. He laughs, holding your hands.

“You’re adorable. Come, dance with me”, he says, placing your left hand on his neck and holding the other.

“Dance? Right now?”

“Yeah. Just you and I. We’ll do it right this time.”

“But I’m dizzy.” You step on his foot, making him groan. “And I have two left feet when drunk. Sorry, are you okay?”

“I’m okay. I’m more than okay”, he says, smiling at you as your bodies move to silent melodies.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, baby. Just look at me”, he whispers, right hand on your lower back. It is so warm.

You look up at him. The pull is magnetic and fucking electric. You are so attracted to him. He has you feeling drunker than any amount of alcohol ever could. You are so fuzzy inside because of all the laughing you have been doing.

“You have the most beautiful eyes ever”, Jungkook whispers, raising your pulse with it.

“Kook, I”, you begin, eyes flitting to his lips. Merely seeing the shape of them is enough to reignite the flames in your stomach. Dancing becomes a little harder now that you are so excited.

“What’s the matter?” he whispers.

“It’s embarrassing”, you confess with a heated face.

“Tell me.”

“No, it’s so stupid. I don’t even wanna do it but it just happens.”

He guides his touch from your lower back to your waist. Gentle and loving but insanely possessive at the same time. “I promise I won’t laugh.”

You hesitate.

“Promise.”

“I’m, uh, there is slick.”

Jungkook draws closer, making you chase his kiss.

“Shit. There is?”

“Yeah”, you whimper.

He lowers his eyes, making you taste the idea of his kiss. It makes you so desperate for him.

“Is this normal for you or….”

You shake your head, “it never happened before. Not like this. Or that easily. I don’t know, I’m sorry, I can’t stop it.”

“Holy fuck. Baby.”

“It’s so stupid.”

“No, it’s not. Just kiss me.”

You kiss him. At least you try to because before your lips can touch, you step on his toes again. Vigorously.

“Ouch, hey”, he gasps, flinching back.

“Sorry! Oh my god, sorry. Are you okay?"

“Ah fuck”, he laughs, “yeah, I’m okay. You’re a terrible dancer.”

“Hey”, you pout.

He chuckles and pecks your cheek.

“I want to show you one thing before we make it official”, he says.

“Show me, please.”

“Follow me. You can leave your shoes by the door.”

Jungkook’s home is somehow exactly how you imagined it to be. It is neat and tidy, but doesn’t really have a lot of character. The rooms are spacious with little furniture filling them. The furniture is modern and there are barely any decorations present. It is the house of someone who doesn’t feel at home in it. The desire to make it cozy and homey for him becomes stronger and stronger within you. There are already a million ideas swarming your head.

“You’re quiet. Do you not like it here?” Jungkook asks you.

“No, it’s not that. I’m thinking.”

"About what?”

“It’s gonna sound silly.”

“Tell me.”

“I already have so many ideas on how to make it cozier here. Sorry, I know it’s your house and everything.”

Jungkook steps close and cradles your face, making you look up at him.

“And it’s your home. Make it as cozy as you want to”, he speaks softly, eyes warm and caring.

“Really?”

He nods, kissing your forehead.

“This place never felt like a home to me anyway. It can use the caring touch of an omega.”

You can’t explain how he makes you feel because you never experienced it before. The best way to describe it is cozy and safe. You want to curl up close to him and be yourself with him. This is how he makes you feel. As if you are allowed to be your truest You.

“Speaking of cozy omegas, we’re here.”

“Here where?”

“My surprise for you. I worked hard on it these past few days.”

He opens the door for you, allowing you view of one of the coziest rooms you have ever seen. It is filled with soft surfaces to lie on. A bed, a big sofa, some bean bags, a window bench. Curtains frame the window and the bed. The floor is covered in soft rugs. There are pillows to sink into on every surface and he installed fairy lights on the wall and the bed frame.

“What’s this?” you gasp.

“It’s your nest.”

You look at him. He is clearly nervous, smelling of it as well.

“I’m still new to the entire omega heat thing. I know that they’re a thing, obviously, and I know that you like to get cozy for them. I looked up nest inspirations online. It told me that you like lots of pillows and blankets and that I should make it cozy and warm. You can totally change everything in this room, of course.” He touches the side of his neck. “I just thought that I’d try to make it comfortable for you. At least maybe? I don’t know, I just wanna make it nice for you.”

Your lower lip trembles.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna make you cry. Is it that bad? I’m sorry, I suck at interior design.”

You shake your head and fall around his neck, “thank you.”

Jungkook closes his arms around you, nuzzling his nose into your neck. You smell of happiness right now.

“Does this mean you like it?” he asks.

“I love it so much. I never had a nest before. I’m so happy.”

“You are?”

“Yes, so much.”

You step back, giving him a smile. Jungkook retorts it. You giggle and turn so you can hurry through the room.

Jungkook watches you, enjoying the droopy feelings in his chest. The longer you are in the room and the more details you spot, the stronger your scent of happiness gets. It almost fills up the entire room by now, making him feel so warm and complete. He feels at home in his house for the very first time.

“This is so cozy, oh my god. So soft, wow. I love this colour, holy moly. Wow. So cozy. Wow”, you gush and gasp as you inspect everything and anything.

You end up dropping into one of the beanbags, nuzzling into it as deep as possible while you purr in contentment.

Jungkook feels his knees buckle. He got you to purr. Holy fuck, he was seriously placed on this earth to treat you right.

He closes the distance between you and him, kneeling down in front of you. He comes closer, putting his weight on his elbow which he rests on the beanbag above your head. He leans down to kiss your cheek.

You stop your nuzzling, gasping quietly as his sudden closeness surprises you. You look up and can’t look away again.

“You’re the most beautiful bride I have ever seen”, he whispers, cradling your cheek with his other hand.

“Oh”, you let out, feeling dizzy.

“No wonder I had to kiss you.” He furrows his brows. “I know I shouldn’t have done this and I’m sorry.”

“I’m not angry anymore. You built me a nest”, you tear up, “Jungkook, please give me my bonding night. I want to be with you.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“So sure, please. I can’t take it anymore.” You shiver. “I keep producing slick and I’m so cold without you and, and I wanna feel that good again. Like we did in the shed. I, I wanna feel like this again. Please.”

Jungkook closes his fist on the beanbag, trying to keep himself at bay. His instincts threaten to kick in when you beg like this.

“Do you want it here?”

“Yes, please.”

“And you know what I’ll do to you? What might happen again?”

You deepen the lethalness of your puppy eyes, taking his hand to put it over your stomach. You whisper your words, turning him into puddy.

“I want to feel alive again. Together with you.”

“Holy fuck, ___”, Jungkook croaks and goes in for a kiss. He growls and stops himself. “I need you to say that you understand. Please, don’t make me do it without hearing it first.”

“Yes, Kook. I know what you’ll do to me. I need you to, please.”

“Thank you. Oh my god baby, I wanna treat you so right”, he croaks out and finally falls into the kiss. “I’ll never ever force myself onto you again. Never. Fucking never. Holy fuck, baby”, he babbles between kisses, turning you into a weak, turned on mess. “Wanna treat you so right. My baby. Mine.”

His touch is everywhere at the same time, unable to decide where to find its home. It feels so good. Each spot he touches, tingles and heats up. Whenever he changes spots, it leaves behind shivers and goosebumps before the entire process repeats itself again.

You want to keep kissing him, but soon have to stop because of his touch. You have to gasp for air, you would suffocate otherwise.

Jungkook, barely holding onto the threat of humanity by now, doesn’t see any problem in being denied your lips. He kisses a path to your neck hungrily. Your aroused smell becomes stronger and stronger the closer he gets to your scent glands. He knows how good it feels when someone kisses his scent spots and he wonders if it is the same for you.

He kisses the spot on your left side, forcing you to arch your back and gasp loudly. You instinctively grasp his back.

“Do you like this?” he rasps his words, nibbling on the sensitive spot. You smell so good. Jungkook has never felt such an obsession with another’s scent before. He needs it all over his body, melted with his skin so everyone can smell who his heart belongs to. He can’t stop kissing you, picking up more and more of your scent.

“Does this feel good?” he asks again because you were too busy gasping the first time.

“Ye-yeah”, you gasp out, staring at the ceiling in shock. Your fingers twitch and tremble on his back, claws threatening to come out and slice open his shirt.

What is happening to you? You were kissed on your neck before, but this feels different. This feels lethal, fateful, like it is changing the way you view pleasure. You have never felt so electric before and so close to losing control.

“You smell so good, I can’t get enough.”

“Wow, oh god, wow…”

Jungkook stays on your left side until he can smell your arousal on his lips. Only then, does he kiss a sloppy path to your right side. He moans when he witnesses you roll your head to the side willingly and he moans again when he goes in to worship your hard working scent spot. And it is working hard. Fucking hell, you smell like pure sex and arousal. Jungkook huffs it up hungrily, biting and licking at the delicious spot.

All while you stare and gasp and lose control over yourself. The bites feel so good. You want to squirm and moan. Your head is fuzzy, your body so weakened. What is happening? What the fuck is happening to you? You can’t stop producing more slick. You are so hot. Seriously, so fucking hot. Oh god, you can’t think anymore. Anything you can think is how much you need him to fuck you.

“Seriously, fuck”, Jungkook comes up for air, mouthing at your cheek drunkenly, “you smell so good. I feel high.”

“I wanna be naked”, you croak out, arching your back. You don’t have many thoughts except desire and sex. Being naked is all you crave right now. If you’re naked, Jungkook can potentially bite more parts of you. This is the logic of your fuzzy mind and it is driving you crazy that it isn’t your reality yet.

“Sit up then and let me open your dress.”

You obey gladly, almost dry heaving in desire. Jungkook reaches behind you and opens your dress. He wanted to pull it off slowly to make the moment romantic, but you shrug it off quickly for him.

He meets your eyes. They are golden and clouded in desire.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks.

“Why not?”

“I never saw you naked before.”

“Oh.” A little clarity returns to your eyes. “Right.”

He can smell hints of coyness in your scent. And a little bit of nervousness.

“Wrap your arms around me.”

You obey his order and like this, Jungkook is able to lift you out of your dress and carry you to bed. He lays you down carefully, straddling your lap without sitting down.

You are below him in nothing but your underwear, feeling small and fragile, but so safe.

“Do you wanna take it slower?” he suggests.

“No, just nervous that’s all.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. We can slow down whenever you need to.”

“Okay”, you whisper and make puppy eyes at him, “can you, uhm, can you bite me more?”

“Yes. Wow this is…hah. Of course”, he lets out, “first, let me match you.”

He is getting undressed. First his tie, then he opens his buttons. His shirt leaves him first, next his belt and last his slacks. He stays in his briefs, heavy cock straining the fabric as much as he soaks it.

Now sharing in your state of undress, he leans down, taking your hands to pin them gently. He kisses you, blurring your thoughts into one big mess of arousal and safety. His thumbs caress your hands as he kisses you. Your scent is on his face, forcing even more slick to run out of you. Any sort of nervousness you felt is getting wiped out with each new kiss you share. He tastes so goddamn good. His lips are soft and the piercings on them are so exciting to feel.

The kiss breaks when air is sparse. Jungkook stays close to paint paths of worship down your body. He bites the softest spots and sucks marks of ownership on the firmer spots. And you are in heaven, wishing for him to never stop. Such heavenly feelings are unfamiliar to you. You had people mark you before, but it didn’t feel like this. With Jungkook, you need him to continue. You need to know that every single inch of you is marked by him in one way or the other. Whether it be a bite mark, a kiss spot or his scent, you need it on your body and each time he gives it to you, you leak more slick. It is out of your control, unfamiliar and amazing. So amazing.

Jungkook is lingering over your sternum right now, hot breath tickling your skin. His strong hands are holding you under your armpits, reminding you that you were owned by the safest lover.

“I know it’s difficult for you, but please stop me if I go too fast. I can’t stop myself once I let go, so I need you to yell it at me.”

“Please. Don’t stop. Please, you feel so good”, you sigh, writhing.

“Wow, I….fuck, I want you”, he rasps, having to kiss every inch of you. “I want you. I want you so bad.”

“Ah…please…don’t stop…”

Jungkook reaches your breasts. They are swollen and plumb from arousal. They aren’t always like this. When you are feeling normal, they also look and feel normal. They are how breasts are supposed to be, sagging from gravity and soft when lying down. Not right now. They stay in place. They are a little bigger, plumber and hot to the touch. They also smell like your arousal. Even through the fabric of your bra. It is so much sweeter and richer than it was on your neck. Jungkook moans like a druggy having found his drug, going in for a taste with an open mouth and way too much tongue.

“Ah”, you whimper, following it up with a submissive mewl. You are losing control again and it feels so good. Why does everything he does feel so good? It is as if you are a virgin being touched for the very first time, which is insane because you definitely aren’t.

“Your skin’s so soft and warm. I can’t get enough of you”, he mumbles between his hungry kisses, turning you into puddy. You lost sense of how much more you can still take before you burst.

His masculine, possessive hands hold your breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh desperately. His spit soaks the fabric of your bra, leaving behind spots of coldness whenever he moves on to a new spot.

It happens again. You experience sensations you have never felt before. People played with your tits before, you played with them as well but it never felt like this. It never felt so otherworldly. They are so swollen. You can’t breathe because there is so much pressure building up behind your nipples. You throw your hand over your mouth to muffle the overwhelmed sob, twisting the sheets with your other hand. It hurts. The pressure really hurts not to be taken care of.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to hear your panicked whimper because he doesn’t slow down in his feast.

“Your scent, I’m so high. It’s insane, holy fuck, so good…”

It gets too much for you. The pressure hurts so much. You’re scared. What is happening to you?

Jungkook squeezes your breasts and bites down gently. The pressure bursts. You wail, arching your back as warmth trickles out of your nipples, soaking your bra.

The sweet scent of it hits his nose instantly. He tenses up and shudders, cock threatening to burst through his briefs.

“What the-”

Jungkook’s instincts tell him to rip your bra off and lick up the sweet scent, but he forces himself to be stronger than them. It is you who lies below him in such a vulnerable state. If he took advantage of that, he would never forgive himself.

“Jungkook, help me. Please. I’m scared”, you beg him in a quivering voice.

“Try to focus on me. Focus baby, right here”, he tells you, cradling your cheeks.

Your eyes search aimlessly for a moment, but soon find their home in his gaze.

“Koo”, you whimper, grabbing his wrists, “I’m scared. What is happening to me?”

“I don’t know. It never happened to me before. My instincts tell me to clean it for you, but I don’t know if you want this.”

“Please, it hurts. Just make it stop, please.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, please”, you sob.

“Sit up.”

You barely manage to obey. Jungkook supports you, using his other hand to open your bra and tug it off of you. He throws it to the side, helping you lie down again.

Your breasts, normally victims to gravity, stay plumb and perky as you lie down. It is yet another proof that whatever he is doing to you is working beyond comprehension.

“Holy fuck, ___, your tits”, Jungkook gets out, gawking at them in total awe. They are seriously so swollen, your nipples are so hard and they seem to keep leaking pearlescent liquid. “You’re so beautiful, but holy fuck they’re so swollen. Baby, wow.,”

“I don’t know what’s happening. They’re so… so…there’s so much pressure.”

“I can’t. Oh god.”

If only you and he knew that this is happening to you because he stimulated your scent glands. If only you knew that simulation of said glands only works this well with your true mate. You could have a hundred other men play with your tits the same way Jungkook did, but your body would never fall into such helplessness with any of them. Only he will get you to such levels of pleasure. Because it is only his mouth which is destined to taste your sweet pleasure.

You and he are unaware of this fact however, because this is still new to both of you.

“What, what do you need me to do?” He stutters, salivating.

“I don’t know. Your instincts, I don’t- ah.”

“Right.” His eyes glow golden. “My instincts”, he growls and gives in to the voices. “Stay still, I’ll take care of it.”

He picks up your tits and squeezes them together so your nipples are close to each other. He lowers his dripping mouth to them, taking in your right first but with the intention that your left will follow very soon.

His instincts tell him to stimulate your nipples with soft bites first until they are throbbing and then change to sucking them. He listens to his instincts, getting you to moan so loudly that his cock throbs painfully.

“Is this working, baby?” he asks, drooling all over your sweet nipples.

“Oh god, yeah”, you croak, arching your back. You twist the sheets, curling your toes. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, Koo thank you…”

“Fuuuck baby, so hot”, he drags out his words until it turns into a growl instead, loving you oh so right.

He bites and bites, licks whenever you sob and bites some more, all while his strong fingers knead your plumpness. And then it happens. You arch your back and wail up as his stimulation finally forces your breasts to tighten and throb. Liquid shoots into his mouth and down his throat. It is the sweetest taste he ever had on his tongue, intoxicating him beyond saving. Jungkook’s eyes roll back, he thinks that for a second he blacks out before he comes back to be totally guided by his instincts.

He gurgles and moans, sucking the sweet nectar from your right nipple while his fingers play with your left just to keep it ready for him. It is a messy business and whenever he changes sides, he has to lick up the mess he made before he can suck on your nipple. It is not a terrible fate. On the contrary, it’s heaven. For both. Jungkook has never felt this high before while you love his tongue on your body. He is so hot and soft, giving you the perfect contrast to the sharp bites his fangs give you.

“Kook oh god, Kook ah! Ah! A-ah!”

You spill tears, grabbing your own face to muffle yourself and make sense of what is happening to you. This is life altering. You are in a constant state of genuine orgasmic bliss and it doesn’t want to die down. You can literally feel how Jungkook sucks the liquid out of you, relieving you of the painful pressure as he does it. It helps so much, while at the same time making everything worse.

He might help you with the nectar of your breasts, but your body still keeps producing slick. And it is getting dangerously full inside you. Your panties feel like imprisonment to your cunt.

You twist a bundle of his hair, sobbing in ecstasy and desperation.

“Koo, I’m scared, it’s so good”, you sob, trembling.

Your touch motivates him. He is starving for you even though he is currently feasting on you. He seemed to have sucked you dry. No matter how much he bites and sucks, your nipples stay dry. The starvation remains. He needs more of you.

“More, give me more please”, he orders, growling his words between vigorous sucks.

“I, I can’t. Ah, Kook ah.”

“Fuck, I can’t stop. You’re so sweet.”

He can’t take a break, he needs more of you. He lets your scent guide him. It gets stronger and stronger, the closer he comes to your cunt. Don’t be mistaken however, it is not your pussy which calls him, but your inner thighs. Your scent glands to be more specific. Working overtime to produce your arousing smell and begging for attention. They are the most sensitive of your scent spots, but you don’t know that yet. You had men kiss you there before, but none of them were Jungkook. None were your mate.

Jungkook shoves your legs open and buries his face in your right thigh with a growl. His fingers dimple your softness, his fangs tickle your skin. Not long and he bites you.

Your entire body reacts to it. You tense and flinch as if he shocked you, letting out a howl of surprise. Your empty cunt aches, craving nothing more than him.

Jungkook lifts his head, eyes droopy and drugged and lips still glossy from your tits.

“Is like a drug. You is like a drug”, he lulls his words and drops his face back in your thigh. Your left one for a change. He kisses and licks it, grabbing your waist possessively. He holds you with such strength that he even manages to bring it in a little, forcing you to burn in a fire you were never in before.

“I fucking want you, fucking need you, fuck can’t get enough.”

“I’m so hot, I-I’m so hot.”

“So hot, so fucking soft. Fuck, your smell drives me insane.”

“Oh god, Kook. I’m so hot.”

The thing about omegas and heats is that it isn’t as common as one might think. Before an omega has reached maturity, heats obviously aren’t a thing. Afterwards, they are manageable when living with other family members. They feel more as if you were bad mooded and grumpy. You managed to sleep them off whenever they happened.

Burning in this unfamiliar fire as Jungkook repeatedly bites your sensitive scent spots makes you realize that perhaps you have never truly experienced a real heat before. Maybe it slumbers in an omega until they are with their true mate. Maybe the grumpy days are just nature’s way of saving the omega of embarrassing moments in front of family.

You can’t explain why you know, but this is it. This is the real deal. Jungkook stimulated your sensitive glands for long enough that he forces you to go into heat. It feels different from anything you have ever experienced, it even feels different from the thing you thought to be your heat when he was with you in the shed. You were wrong back then, this is it. This is the real thing.

And it scares you so much that you beg for him. He comes up when hearing your distraught, cradling your face. He is clearly far away, seeming changed as well. The only thing having forced him away from you is his stronger instinct of keeping you safe. His dark hair is a mess, his eyes are foggy.

“What’s the matter, baby?” he lulls his words.

“I’m, I’m in heat.”

“What? It can happen like this?”

“When you bit my scent spots, it made me…oh god, please make it stop please.”

“What, uhm, what do you need?”

“You. Please fuck me. I beg you.”

“Holy fuck, I-” Jungkook stops himself, growling deeply and twisting the pillow above your head, “something’s wrong with me. I’m losing control over myself.”

“Koo”, you croak, touching his chest. He is burning up, muscles swollen and tense. His heart races like crazy, unnaturally fast at that.

“What is happening to me?” he stresses.

“I don’t know.”

If only you and he knew that his accidental efforts of forcing you into heat, forced him into his ruts with you. If only you knew that these are the effects of being with your true mate. If only you knew that the only remedy is sex. But you don’t know and so you and he are fated to stumble through the unknown, still doing the right things because your instincts are stronger than anything else. It is as if your bodies do the talking without you and him having to speak their language yet. It is most certain that you will be fluent in it one day.

“I want to rip your panties off.”

"Please do.”

Jungkook gives in and does as he wants. He rips your panties off, throwing the thin piece of fabric over his shoulder. He rips off his own briefs next, discarding the fabric. His heavy, thick cock slaps your stomach. He is so big and swollen by now that he can barely stand up despite his hardened nature. His slick pools in your navel and smears all over your skin.

“Holy fuck, urgh fuck”, he drops his head in your neck, “it hurt so much to keep it in.”

“Kook, you’re so heavy.”

“I know, I’m so hard that I can’t keep it standing. I…” He lifts his head, cradling your cheek. “Say you want me.”

“I want you.”

Jungkook shifts his hips so his cock probes at your entrance. You whimper and open your legs widely, putting them around his meaty thighs.

“Just the tip”, he whispers.

“What? No”, you get out and pout.

Jungkook chuckles, cradling your cheek.

“You know, like last time.”

“Oh”, a giggle shakes you and makes your face glow.

He chuckles, soaking up the moment of honest happiness like a dried up sponge would water. Each time he hears your laugh, he falls more in love with you.

“Just the tip when it didn’t mean anything and we shouldn’t have done it.”

Your giggle changes into a sigh of his name. You gaze into his eyes, building soul consuming connection.

“Right?”

“Right.”

Jungkook allows his tip to fill you. Just enough to let you feel that he was finally there with you. You whimper, spilling tears of relief.

Jungkook wipes them, spilling his own tears. He loves you. This is it. The moment it is official that you are mates. And it happens exactly how he always dreamed it would. You under him, looking so vulnerable and safe as he can gaze into your eyes and see your face change in pleasure.

“This means everything to me”, he croaks out and buries himself inside you to the base. “Ah.” He twists the pillow.

“Oh god. Ah.”

“Too deep? Hurts?”

“No, it’s perfect. I feel, ah, I feel whole.”

Jungkook moans your name, eyes filling with emotion.

You touch his messy hair, scratching him behind his ear. Jungkook shivers, eyes threatening to roll back. You are stimulating one of his scent spots, forcing him deeper into his ruts.

“Okay. If you. Fuck. This is my scent spot. It feels. Ahm. I, I have to fuck you”, he struggles with his words, cock throbbing inside you as if it had his own pulse.

Throb. Throb. Throb.

He fills you with more of his slick each time he twitches. It tingles whenever he does.

“Please don’t hold back. Fuck me like you need to, please”, you whimper, shaking in agony. You tickle his scent spot especially good and it’s over for him.

Jungkook’s fingers slip from control. He can’t hold back anymore. He knows that you can take it.

He pulls out only to slam into you again in a deep, passionate rhythm. In and out. In and out. It is endless and harsh and feels so fucking good.

Your eyes instantly roll back and stay there. Your fingers dimple the nape of his neck as you clutch him for dear life. Jungkook himself can’t keep his eyes focused, gazing at you through a veil of blurriness.

“Is this good for you?” he gets out through gritted teeth.

“Good”, you wail, writhing in ecstasy.

“Fuck, I’m fucking high on you.”

He thought that he knew the feeling of your cunt but this is different. This actually forces him to listen to nothing but his instincts. He thought that he was out of control in the shed, but he wasn’t. This is it. You are so hot around him, so soft and you are filled with slick to the very brim. It is Jungkook’s task to fuck it out of you in heavy, strong thrusts, making a mess of your bodies and the sheets in the process. He isn’t aware of it yet but this gives you so much relief. You were bursting inside and now it is finally leaving you. There is no muscle in your body which isn’t currently puddy. Everything you exist for right now is to be fucked by him. There is no other sensation to you than that of his thick cock reshaping your insides.

“Baby, this is a lot. Holy fuck, this is argh”, Jungkook gets out, scrunching his face in anger. He wants to go deeper, but he can’t. It pisses him off, makes him want to break shit. He knows it’s this stupid position. Fucking good for nothing. Who thinks of something that unfavourable? (Jungkook will think back to this moment once he is clear in his head and wonder why he hated missionary so much.) But he hates it right now. He can’t even see himself inside you, his base is barely inside.

“More, I need more”, he growls and pulls out.

“No please, please it hurts please”, you instantly beg.

“Patient, I’m rearranging you.”

Jungkook takes your legs and guides them into a better position. You let him reshape you. This is what your body currently exists for and wants. It needs someone as strong and dominant as Jungkook to bend it to his will. Each second where he handles you feels like heaven.

He puts your legs over his shoulders.

“Hands.”

You obey, giving them to him. He puts them on your own thighs, squeezing them against the back of them.

“Hold them for me there. I want you to feel yourself shake.”

“Yes”, you whimper.

“Good omega. What a perfect thing you are”, he lulls and slides his hands to your ankles. He picks them off his shoulders and lifts them up. Like this, he opens you for him. Your butt is lifted off the sheets, your cunt instantly gushes out masses of slick.

“I can’t keep it in”, you confess.

“It’s good, baby. You don’t have to. Relax”, Jungkook assures you in a hungry whisper, eyes a deep gold and mesmerised by you. He moves his hips close and buries his heavy cock back in you.

You mewl, curling your toes. Slick drips onto the sheets as it makes space for his girthy length, you feel whole again.

“There we go, fuck”, Jungkook growls and bottoms out. He stays there for nothing but a second before he pulls out again to pick up a punishing rhythm.

It feels so good that your eyes roll back and you resort to moaning and wailing for him. Jungkook moans with you each time he is deep inside you. This finally scratches the itch. This is finally as deep as he can go. He can finally see himself inside you. Finally he can see how his thick cock reshapes your swollen cunt. He is so big and you take him so easily, moving and trembling around him as he repeatedly pounds you stupid. If you keep this up, he might get pussy drunk.

“I can’t take this. You’re so pretty. Is it good for you?”

“Yes. More, please.”

“You’re so perfect. Holy fuck”, he growls and throws your legs over his shoulders to hold your hips instead and pull you onto his cock each time he thrusts into you. You are tighter like this, jerking off his fat cock.

Your voice pitches and rises in volume. You were never fucked like this before. Your needs were never ever getting satisfied like this before. It is changing you and Jungkook makes it even better by taking your clit between his fingers to massage her. She is so swollen and big that he can jerk her off just a little, making you howl. Your hands drop from your thighs just so you can rip the sheets in your attempt to twist them.

You can’t take it. He makes you climax. It is so intense and fulfilling that your sensitive breasts leak again. You howl his name as it happens.

The scent of your sweet breasts and your pretty face sets off Jungkook.

“I have to. It happens”, he gets out and throws his head back. He moans loudly, falling victim to his orgasm. His toes curl for it, his tones stomach flinches.

And because you are currently in heat, existing for nothing but him, his seed sets you off again. It brings you back into this uncontrollable, intense state of bliss you experienced for the first time in the shed. It should be familiar to you by now, but it is not.

You cry and sob, knowing that you won’t be able to stop orgasming for as long as your body needs to.

Jungkook knots instantly, cursing so graphically that he is surprised himself.

“Baby, I can’t stop. I can’t, I’m sorry”, he chants panickedly, unable to stop his hips from rutting into you. It forces his knot to keep leaving you and then popping back inside. The stimulation is unlike anything he has ever felt before, making his toes cramp from curling them so harshly and his hips become even more violent.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it feels so good. Stop me, I can’t stop it”, he apologises because you cry so much. He wants to stop hurting you but he can’t. His hips rut against his will.

“Don’t stop please. It feels so good”, you release him of his guilt, clenching down on him as he drills his knot back into you.

“What? You’re in no pain?”

“No pain. Oh god Koo, I’m cumming again…Ah!” You have to wail, squirting around his thick knot as he buries it inside you over and over again.

“Ah! This is the best sex I ever had, oh god”, Jungkook moans, arching his back.

The knot fucking burns so deep in such a good way. You are so empty without him, the breach is so intense and once he is inside again everything is well. Your pussy sounds so wet, squelching around his knot sinfully. This is seriously the best sex he ever had.

“It’s so good, I’m so high”, he growls, following your orgasm with his own. It is so unbearable to keep moving but his hips have a mind of their own. They keep rutting and fucking even through Jungkook’s shakes. “I can’t stop this. Holy fuck, urggghh.“

If you knew that your little stunt in the shed would lead to having your guts knot fucked by none other than Jeon Jungkook, you would have agreed to this bond sooner. Yup, we have reached the point of total acceptance of your situation. Fuck that his father didn’t howl. Fuck that you only married Jungkook because you were forced to. Fuck that this wasn’t meant to happen. This right now is everything which counts. It is making this entire situation right. It was meant to happen.

“Jungkook, I can’t stop”, you sob, grabbing for him helplessly.

“I know. I can’t either”, he gets out, holding your hands and pinning them above your head. Like this he is lying himself down on you, folding your willing body in half and burying his knotted cock so deep inside you that you feel him against your cervix. In your state, lost in heat and his seed, it is the highest level of pleasure he can give you. And you thank him with loud cries and your claws digging into his hands against their will.

His own claws come out to play. He angles his hands so they wouldn’t hurt you. Like this, your hands are under his’, shaking and twitching as he brings you over one edge after the other.

“I can’t stop. Jungkook please help me”, you wail.

“You’re safe. I’m here. Baby, I’m here”, he soothes you and shakes as he manages to bury his knot in you again. You are getting tighter and tighter and his knot more and more sensitive. “Urgh, baby you’re making me- ah!”

He loses control, pumping your belly full of his hot cum. Now that he is pressed against your cervix, his seed pushes its way right past it, giving you the feeling of being alive you so dearly craved. Of course it sets you off again, of course you cry as if you never had an orgasm before and experience it for the first time. Of course it sets him off again. Of course all of this is happening. It was meant to happen. Of course it was.

And as you cry and sob in relief and bliss, Jungkook can barely stop his claws from hurting you. He grew in size and strength. Your small, fragile body is in danger of being crushed under him.

He does what he needs to do. Jungkook grips the headboard, growling like a rabid animal. You are so stretched out, so lose around his knot. And so wet. He can’t stop fucking you with his creamy knot. It feels so good to have you struggle for a second but then take him happily. It feels even better because you moan with such ecstasy each time he drills it back into you.

Jungkook growls and grips the headboard tighter. And tighter. And tighter with each heavy thrust. With each of your moans. Tighter and tighter until suddenly it cracks loudly, breaking into two right under his hand. The bed gives up, forcing you to sink a good ten centimetres.

“What?” You squeak out, looking around you disoriented.

“Doesn’t matter. Look at me”, he dismisses it, cradling your cheek tenderly. One might never know that seconds ago he broke the bed with the same hand. “Look at me, only look at me.”

You look at him and fall back into the pleasure, having to orgasm instantly at the sight of him.

You wail for him, watching with blurry eyes as he orgasms as well.

His seed hits you in the deepest parts of you. He fucked you so sensitive that you can feel his thick vein pump it out of him. His knot trembles as it happens, bringing you to your blissed limits.

“Again.”

“Me too. If you- I- me too.”

His hips freeze as he is deep inside you. Your walls tighten and force his knot to stay inside you. He can’t move. It is happening to you as his seed drugs you, his knot does the rest. You can’t stop climaxing. It is finally happening.

Jungkook whimpers helplessly, dropping your legs and collapsing into you. Your limbs close around him, his own do the same with you. He is on top of you, but gravity forces him to fall to his side and take you with him. You are stuck together, shaking and flinching as your bodies are trapped in the most addicting state of being. You orgasm which sets him off, which sets you off and so on. You should know the drill, but it doesn’t get easier to bear. You drool and sob and moan, holding each other so close that you almost melt together.

Jungkook cries out as an especially strong high hits him, writhing helplessly which ends in your position changed. He is on his back, you serve as his warmest blanket. He hugs you so strongly, knotted cock shaking inside your tight walls. You drool all over his strong chest, feeling far away because you are so close to his scent glands. He smells like sex and ecstasy but also like safety.

It feels more intense than last time. This kind of knotting orgasm isn’t just sexual, it is also emotional. You want to be close and you are and it is ecstasy. There is enlightenment that what is happening to you only happens because you are with your true mate and this enlightenment makes the orgasms only this much more intense.

The sun is starting to rise once you and he finally come down. You are fucked raw and sore by now, crying into the crook of his neck.

“Holy fuck baby, urgh. I can’t do it again. I’m cramping”, he says, “sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m sore. Kook please I’m scared.”

“Don’t be, I’m here. Baby, my love. I can’t believe we did that”, he instantly falls into a love drunk, sappy state. He hugs you so tightly, feeling up your knotted pussy gently to soothe her.

“I don’t wanna be on top, please”, you beg, shivering.

“You’re safe, princess. I’m here”, Jungkook says and changes positions for you. Somehow in a mixture of his strength and your refusal to give up his knot, you and he end up in flipped positions. He is still inside you, keeping you bred and warm. All while he gives you warmth through his body, adoring you right with kisses all over your face and neck.

“I’m so proud. I’m so fucking proud. Holy fuck, I feel high. You did do well. Oh my pretty princess. My baby love”, he whispers between his loving kisses, hands caressing your sweaty, sore skin gently.

This is instinct as much as it is his heart’s desire. He wants to soothe you, adore you, bring you down gently after lifting you so fucking high. He isn’t aware of how important this is to you. You feel so vulnerable and emotionally sensitive. It would be the same thing if someone decided to start open heart surgery on your aware self. This is how vulnerable you feel and it is Jungkook who makes it okay. It is Jungkook who calms you down and reminds you that you are allowed to be sensitive because he is there to protect you.

“I can’t comprehend this. I feel high. Wow baby, wow. How do you feel?” he babbles.

“Vulnerable.”

“Oh baby, I know. I’m here. Your Kook is here”, he assures you, nuzzling his nose against your scent spot. He hopes that if he nuzzles it long enough, he can spread some of his relaxing scent on you.

It works. Of course it does because your bodies need no instructions to communicate. It is natural and right and makes you and him feel fuzzy.

You sigh. Jungkook smells the relief against your neck. He kisses a path to your face. Your glassy eyes await him, eagerly building connection once they can.

“Thank you”, you whisper.

“No, I have to thank you. This was the best bonding night ever.”

“No, thank you”, you insist, spilling tears

Jungkook wipes them, knowing that you want to tell him something.

“For what, princess?”

“For, for making me feel like this. I, I was never in heat like this. I didn’t know that I could and it makes me feel really vulnerable. But you’re so gentle with me and it’s so nice.”

His eyes soften. He whispers your name adoringly and kisses your forehead.

“I feel the same. This was my first rut ever. I didn’t think that it would be so intense.”

“Kook, I’m scared. I don’t know what this means.”

“Don’t be scared, I’m here.” He kisses your nose, stubbing you with his own afterwards. “We can ask someone about it, but all I know for now is that I don’t wanna fucking stop having you close.”

“Yeah, me too.”

He kisses your lips, making your heart race and feel at home. He breaks the kiss gently, giving you the fondest and warmest smile ever.

“I’m so proud of you. You did so well, my princess baby.”

“Oh wow”, you get out, having to giggle.

Jungkook giggles with you, smiling as he steals a cheeky kiss. Afterwards he sits up. He is still connected with you by your middles, making you gasp and shiver.

“Sorry, I shifted. Are you okay?”

“Yes, oh god. What is happening to me? I feel so comfortable.”

Jungkook smiles, caressing your sides. He can’t stop looking at you. Your breasts are normal again, natural victims to gravity and so soft. They are still messy and wet from what happened before but nothing new leaves you. Your belly is bloated from his seed and covered in a layer of sweat. No wonder you sweat so much, you were burning up. Jungkook dances his palms over your bloated stomach, furrowing his brows in emotion.

“So alive”, he whispers.

“So alive”, you sigh, placing your hand over his’.

“___”, he says and meets yours eyes.

“Yes?”

“You’re so fucking beautiful. I didn’t get to say it as we were doing it because I was dumb in pleasure, but you are so beautiful.”

“You think so?”

“I do. I can’t believe that you’re real and, and that you allow me to see you naked. I just”, he exhales shakily. “I’m just so happy”, he chokes out, throwing his hand over his eyes to hide his tears.

“Kook, don’t cry”, you gasp and pull him down to you. He falls to his elbows, allowing you to hold his hands above your head.

He is pouting and sniffling. You give him a smile.

“Don’t cry.”

“They’re happy tears. We’re bonded, I’m so happy”, he says and smiles through his pretty tears.

Your smile grows, you squeeze his hands. He was right when he said that you and he will get to know each and that it will be nice. You can feel it. You are right for each other. You are so right.

You put your legs around him and push him deeper again.

“Oh”, he gasps, squeezing your hands, “wo-oah this felt really intense”, his voice quivers as he speaks.

“It does”, you agree, rolling your hips up.

Jungkook gasps, “what are you doing?”

“I want more of you.”

“Really? Baby, you’re sore. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Please. Be gentle. Please make love to me, Kook baby.”

Jungkook spills tears, whimpering your name. This is everything he ever wanted. He pulls out of your sensitive warmth to thrust into you.

Crack!

You and he scream in shock as the bed finally gives up completely and comes crashing down onto the ground. Jungkook keeps you safe with his arms around you and your head cradled against his chest.

You and he share a moment of shocked and disoriented silence before you break it.

“Oh my god”, you let out, breaking into loud, honest cackles. Jungkook looks at you, having to break into laughter as well.

“Did we just get cock blocked by the bed?”

“I think so. It might be my fault. I kinda broke it when I fucked you with my knot. Sorry.”

“Oh god, Kook.”

You laugh oh so loudly, throwing your head back for it.

Jungkook has to almost squeak as he laughs with you, heart bursting in his chest.

“This is so funny. Oh my god.”

“Yeah, it’s hilarious”, he agrees and goes in for a surprise kiss.

Your laugh cuts off, a gasp replaces it. Your eyes fall closed and your hands bury themselves in his soft hair. This kiss is emotional and it is deep. It has meaning. It is happy and filled with love. Jungkook lets you experience it to its fullest, ending it with a stub of his nose and a smile.

“I promise to fix it. I’ll add steel in the frame.”

“So you think we’ll break it again otherwise?”

“Yeah.” He laughs breathily, nodding his head. “If this is how it feels to be with you during stimulation induced heat, imagine how it will be once it’s your natural heat.”

You gulp, gazing at him dreamily. The rising sun shines on his face, making his skin glow golden.

“Koo, I think you need to heat proof this entire room”, you whisper, making him chuckle and nod his head.

“I will. I’ll make it safe and cozy. Shit baby, I can’t stop saying it. You’re so beautiful. The sun is shining on you and you’re so beautiful.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, looking at him shyly

“You’re beautiful too”, you whisper, making him blush.

“Wow, thanks”, he mumbles, scrunching his nose. He does a little shift to be closer to you. The bed croaks and punishes him for it by making the headboard drop. He catches it before it can fall on top of you

“Piece of shit bed.”

“Oh god”, you laugh “I think we need to take care of this mess first and then continue.”

“Yeah shit, I think you’re right. The bed’s out to get us.”

You laugh and snicker, kicking your feet happily. He chuckles and shoves the headboard to the side.

“Come on, let’s take a shower”, he says and picks you up.

You nuzzle into him, feeling beyond safe.

“Do you have snacks too? I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.”

“Of course. You know what? First fact about me? I’m actually a really great cook.”

“You are?”

“Mhm, I’m also a total foodie. So if you wanna bribe me into snuggles, get me food and I’ll be the cuddliest boy ever.”

You snicker. It makes your heart flutter when he talks cute with you.

“Do you like food?” he asks.

“Yeah, I like food. It’s comfort.”

“Yeah, right. Do you like cooking together?”

“I never did it before.”

Jungkook holds you closer.

“Then I know what we’ll do. Shower and cook and I get to give you kisses. And later when you’re not sore anymore, I’ll make that gentle love to you. If you want me to.”

“Yeah, I want you to. This sounds so nice. Koo?”

“Yes, love?”

“It’s gonna be so easy for me to fall in love with you.”

“Wow, you. Urgh, you drive me crazy you”, he gets out through gritted teeth and presses you against the next best wall to attack your face and neck with tingling kisses.

You squeal his name, having to laugh in giddiness. It will not be the last time that you laugh because of him.

5K notes · View notes

batsandbirdbrains · 17 days ago

Text

I want a season 1 yj fic where no one on the team knows who Batman and Robin are behind the masks. Wally is friends with Robin, but he only knows him as Robin, and he’s never seen him without the mask or without his sunglasses.

And Dick thinks they’re all friends. Sure, they don’t know his name or half of his life, but they know him. He thinks of them as some of his best friends. He doesn’t actually have a whole lot of friends. He has Barbara, but she doesn’t know about Robin. And he has Bette, but she’s his cousin, so she doesn’t really count.

So when he walks into the lounge area in Mount Justice one day and hears most of the team talking shit about Dick Grayson, who was just shown on TV with Bruce Wayne because there was a big charity gala last night, he’s trying so hard not to get upset. Because they’re making fun of him. They’re talking shit about him. They don’t even know Dick Grayson, but they’re saying such mean things about him.

“I’ve seen him around school, he’s such a snob,” Artemis complains. “His hair is always gelled so obnoxiously and his uniform is always perfect, and,” she snorts, “he’s captain of the mathletes. What a dork.”

Alfred insists on his uniform always being perfectly ironed and his shirt being tucked in. He gets the longest lectures whenever he gets a detention or a pink slip for his uniform being out of line.

And Bruce has been doing Dick’s hair before school since Dick started going to school. He’d been so nervous the first time, because he was eight and he’d been homeschooled in the circus and he’d never been to a real school before, so Bruce did Dick’s hair just like his, and it made him feel so much better. Dick does his own hair mostly now that he’s older, but he mostly sticks with how Bruce first showed him. It’s easy. It’s a classic style. It makes him feel a little less nervous.

And who cares if he’s captain of the mathletes? Bruce insists it will look good on college applications. You can never start preparing too early. Plus, Gotham Academy is full of nerds, it’s far from the dorkiest club on campus. He’s mostly only on the team because his math teacher insisted.

He’s lingering in the hallway, just before the doorway to the lounge, leaning against the wall as he listens in on their conversation.

“He’s obviously a publicity stunt,” Wally snorts, and Dick can hear him stuffing chips in his mouth. “Was Bruce Wayne getting bad press when he first adopted him or something? I always thought it was weird he just plucked a kid from out of nowhere.”

“I thought he was from the circus?” Conner asks, but he actually sounds confused, curious.

The question only makes Wally and Artemis laugh louder, and even M’gann is giggling now. Dick feels like his heart just dropped into his stomach.

“The whole thing is so weird,” Artemis laughs. “Bruce Wayne takes him out like he’s some sort of little accessory, it’s so weird.”

“They are a pretty weird pair, aren’t they?” Wally laughs.

“I mean, the kid seems like a pain in the ass,” Artemis says, and Dick can just tell from the way she says it that she’s smirking. “I don’t know if I’d feel that bad if their whole father-son schtick was all for the camera. Brucie probably treats him like a toy he can just put back on the shelf when he’s done playing with him. He’s probably nothing but a charity case.”

Dick can hear someone pushing Artemis into the side of the couch, but he can tell they’re still all laughing and joking around. Dick feels like his breath is caught in his throat.

“That’s a horrible thing to say,” Conner says.

“Oh, come on, Conner,” Artemis huffs. “I’m only kidding.”

“It’s not something to kid about,” Conner says. “He’s a real person. They’re both real people. You know nothing about them.”

“I know that he struts around school like he owns the place!”

“Does he really?” M’gann gasps.

He can hear Artemis, Wally, and M’gann all continuing to gossip together, to laugh about his photos that Artemis is pulling up on her phone. He can hear Conner mutter something about them being childish, and then get up towards the kitchen area.

The hand on his shoulder startles him, and he’s so mad at himself for not hearing Kaldur walking up behind him.

“Robin, is everything alright?” Kaldur asks, and his voice is so gentle, so concerned.

“M’fine,” Dick chokes out. “M’just, I - I’m gonna go, actually. Can’t stay for training today.”

“Are you not feeling well?”

“Just…feeling a little sick. I’ll be fine.”

Conner has since walked into the hallway too, and he’s looking at Dick all concerned now too. But Dick feels like everything is too hot and he can’t breathe right and he’s suddenly so upset, and he can’t stay here anymore knowing that half of his friends are sitting just a few feet away, making fun of him.

Dick rushes back home, and he finds Bruce sitting in his office going over some WE paperwork. Bruce is surprised he’s home so soon, but holds onto Dick tightly when he falls into his lap.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce asks, squeezing Dick tight. “Did something happen at training? Are you hurt?”

“People are mean,” Dick mumbles into Bruce’s shoulder. “They were watching something about the gala from last night. Didn’t wanna stick around.”

“Oh, Dickie,” Bruce sighs, because this isn’t exactly the first time Dick has heard people he thinks are his friends talking about him behind his back, even if this is the first time it’s people who don’t realize they know him talking about him.

“They called me a publicity stunt,” Dick says, pressing himself closer to Bruce. “And a charity case.”

“You aren’t either of those things,” Bruce says, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “You’re my son, no matter what anyone else says.”

“I know.”

Bruce sighs again, resting his cheek on top of Dick’s head. They’re both quiet for a moment, Bruce swiveling side to side in the chair a bit.

“I know it’s difficult,” Bruce tells him. “But how about I put these papers away, and we go watch a movie before Alfred has dinner ready?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Or we can go down to the cave and we can train a bit, if you’d rather do that?”

“I kinda wanna hit something,” Dick mumbles. “But can we watch a movie after dinner?”

“We’ll do whatever you want, chum.”

Dick continues to cling to Bruce while he straightens up his desk, but he hops up and rushes over to the clock to go down to the cave. Black Canary eventually calls the cave to ask Batman if Robin is alright, because she missed him at training and no one could tell her why he left, but he just tells her that Robin wanted to train with him today.

Later that night after dinner, Dick is cuddled up next to Bruce in his favorite family room, a movie playing in the background, and Dick falls asleep like that. Bruce doesn’t disturb him. They both end up falling asleep on the couch, and Bruce decides to take the next day off and to keep Dick home from school so they can spend the day together.

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #robin #batman #young justice #I love bad dad Bruce but sometimes sweet fluffy dad Bruce is so so good #also why do I always make Artemis a bully? lmao it’s just so easy #fic ideas

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hyunniesamericano · 28 days ago

Text

Just the tip

Pairing: Bang Chan × fem! Reader

Genre : smut (drabble)

Synopsis: after purposely making Chan jealous, you’re left to fall apart on just the tip—taunted, overstimulated, and utterly ruined by his slow, punishing control.

Your thighs ache from how long he’s kept you open, how long he’s kept himself just out of reach.

Chan’s barely touched you tonight. Barely kissed you. Barely even looked at you when he first came in ...just a tight jaw and that calm, dangerous silence that made your stomach twist. You thought maybe he’d let it go. Thought maybe he wouldn’t say anything.

But now? Now he’s between your legs, cock in hand, and you're wrecked...from his fingers, his mouth, and his patience that’s clearly not kindness.

“You thought you were being cute, didn’t you?” His voice is low, rough, words dragging like honey over broken ice. “Acting like I wouldn’t notice.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your throat’s tight, eyes glassy, lips swollen from all the whining. You’re already so sensitive, twitching under his every touch but it’s not enough. Not even close.

And he knows it.

He drags the thick head of his cock through your soaked folds, up over your clit and back down to your entrance. Every pass makes your hips jump, your fingers curl in the sheets.

“You want me to fuck you now?” he asks, smirking as you whimper and nod. “After the little stunt you pulled?”

“I'm sorry,” you whisper, but it sounds more like begging. “I need you, Channie, please.”

“You will get me, sweetheart,” he hums, lining himself up with lazy precision. “I told you I’d fuck you. Didn’t say how much.”

And before you can speak again he pushes in.

Just the tip.

The stretch is immediate—hot, unbearable but it’s barely anything. You clench around him, already needy, but before your body can even adjust, he stops.

Your eyes flutter open. “Wha… why’d you stop?”

Chan leans over you, his smirk lazy, dangerous. “That’s all you get.”

Your lips part in shock, a soft whimper escaping. “N-no, Channie—please—”

He draws back slowly, then pushes in again with the same shallow depth just enough to make your body twitch, your thighs shake.

“You think you get to act like that,” he murmurs, his tone smooth but sharp, “and I’ll still let you feel all of me?”

You don’t respond ...you can’t too consumed by the way he’s moving, maddening and precise, just the tip brushing your walls in those short thrusts.

His voice drops, darker now. “Batting your lashes at someone else. Laughing like I wasn’t there.”

Your face burns. “I didn’t—”

“You did.” His hips press forward, just a little deeper but not enough. Never enough. “And now look at you. Spread out for me. Crying for my cock.”

You whimper as his thumb finds your clit—barely touches it, just grazes it and your whole body jolts.

“Sensitive already?” he taunts. “And I haven’t even given you a real stroke yet.”

His pace stays slow. Shallow. Rhythmic. It’s torture your body clenching desperately, needing more but he gives you nothing. Just that thick, teasing pressure and his words in your ear.

“Is my tip not enough for you now, huh?” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin. “After the little show you put on?”

You gasp, fingers clawing at the sheets. “Please, Channie… I need all of you.”

He chuckles, low and dark, thrusting just deep enough to make your toes curl then pulling back out to the tip again.

“No,” he growls. “This is all you get. For being such a reckless little thing.”

Your back arches. The build-up is unbearable now, that slow grind of frustration and overstimulation coiling deep in your gut. You try to shift your hips to get more but he holds you down.

“Don’t even try,” he warns. “You’re not getting a single inch more.”

He starts moving just a little faster, the wet slide of him inside you obscene, his tip hitting the same sweet spot over and over.

Your thighs tremble. Your breaths turn ragged.

“Gonna cum from just this?” he taunts, low and satisfied. “From barely anything? That desperate for me?”

You’re nodding before you even realize it, vision swimming.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You are. You’re gonna cum like this. Look at you.”

The coil inside you finally snaps—hot, sharp, overwhelming.

You cry out, falling apart on just the tip, your cunt fluttering around him as your orgasm rolls through, too strong to hold back.

Chan doesn’t stop.“Shit—” he grits, his thrusts faltering as your tight walls milk him. “Gonna—fuck—”

He presses forward, still just barely inside, and you feel it...his cock twitching as he cums with a low moan, warm pulses spilling right at your entrance.

But even then, he’s not done.

He pulls out, slow and deliberate, and you whimper at the sudden emptiness. Then his fingers slide down collecting the mess he left and drag it through your soaked folds, over your swollen clit.

You jolt. “Channie—!”

“Mm,” he hums. “Didn’t think my tip would break you.”

You can barely move, still twitching, but he leans in, voice a whisper against your jaw.

“Next time you want my attention,” he murmurs, rubbing lazy circles through the cum slicked over your clit, “just ask. No more games.”

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realcube · 9 days ago

Text

— GOONER! FANBOY! KENMA

tws & tags ;; nsfw. mdni. camgirl! reader. filming. objectification. vaginal. oral (f! receiving). praise. light impact play. light daddy kink. body worship. squirting — hcs into long fic (wc: 5.6k) part one.

GOONER! FANBOY! KENMA who keeps track of your viewership and subscriber trends more than you do.

FANBOY! KENMA who is, hence, the first to notice your uneasy sub count and lower-than-usual engagement. of course, being a famous streamer himself, he is familiar with slow periods and realises that current trends aren't a direct reflection of the quality of your content. he's certain that due to how sweet you are, and how successful your account is overall, your views will pick up in no time.

FANBOY! KENMA who is surprised and disappointed when your views, in fact, do not pick up.

FANBOY! KENMA who figures that — although it's nice that there's less trolls and spammers in your livestreams now, and that he doesn't have to bid against thousands of other fans for a private show anymore — the suspended growth of your channel cannot be a good thing. firstly, he doesn't enjoy imagining a sweet, gentle girl like you struggle financially, or struggle in any sense of the word. secondly, if your explicit content creation doesn't continue to provide a steady and decent stream of income, you'll probably abandon it, similar to how you stopped making gaming content. and of course, that would be kenma's worst nightmare.

FANBOY! KENMA who is this close to transferring someone's yearly salary straight into your bank account, just so he can implore you to keep making porn. but he unfortunately realises not only is that solution unsustainable, but it's also on a level of absolutely pathetic that he has yet to reach.

FANBOY! KENMA who is more concerned about your channel than he is his own. even if his gaming content were to suddenly lose motion, he'd still have his stocks and company investments to fall back on — but what do you have? shamefully, it keeps him up at night thinking that he soon might never see your gorgeous pussy plastered over his monitors again. or hear those cute moans as you mewl his (user)name over and over during one of your private shows.

FANBOY! KENMA who doesn't have to fret for long. on your main account, you send a text post to all your fans, admitting that your channel has been struggling recently. however, you weren't ready to give up so easily; you figured that in order for your account to blow up, you need to pull some sort of viral publicity stunt. something adjacent to sleeping with 100 men in one day, but unforunately you don't have the endurance for that. instead, you're looking for a popular, non-erotic youtuber to make content with.

FANBOY! KENMA is left aghast. not only at the vulgarity of your proposal, but also at how shockingly clever it was. by poaching a youtuber who doesn't already make nsfw content, you'll not only bring in their audience to your channel, but also a large portion of individuals who will want to see the content purely due to the curiousity and shock-factor alone. it was certainly the perfect scheme for a viral moment. the only glaring issue with your plan lied in the fact that there probably wasn't many popular youtubers who are willing to sacrifice their entire reputation, dignity and future sponsorships for a quick buck.

FANBOY! KENMA who is more than happy to end his youtube career for a quick fuck. especially from you.

FANBOY! KENMA who hesitantly messages you through his verified account, enquiring about the possiblity of a collab. he pays attention to the way he types and makes an effort to stray from his usual typing quirks, lest you recognise the way the types from the hours of private shows you've spent together. and the hundreds of comments he's left under your nude pics from his gooner account.

FANBOY! KENMA whose heart jumps in his chest when he receives a message back from you, which reads that you're delighted to get this oppertunity to work with him and you're happy to discuss setting up a date to meet in-person.

FANBOY! KENMA whose cock stiffens at the mere thought of finally seeing you in real life. getting feel those cute tits, and admire your gorgeous face up close. it makes him light-headed to think he might get to taste that tight cunt he's spent so many late nights drooling over. in fact, he struggles to even picture you in three dimensions — you're just so gorgeous with the most perfect tits, a small part of him suspected you must be some sort of hyper-realistic v-tuber.

but no, you're real. you're a real person and soon he's going to meet you in real life and feel the inside of that pretty hole that he's been obsessing over for years.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Main Street Flats. Room 605. It's on the sixth floor but the elevator is broken right now </3 see you soon!

his heart is pounding in his ears as he gently knocks on your door. despite streaming for audience of over twenty thousand viewers on a weekly basis, this is the most nervous he's felt since highschool. his stomach churned and pulsed, as he gripped onto the hem of his hoodie and prayed he wouldn't throw-up.

the worst part was his original fears would only spawn new ones; in the beginning, his biggest worries pertained to his desirability — what if you think he's too ugly and grimy to have sex with? — and his identity — what if you somehow recognise him from his gooner account and figure out he's perverted loser? it was an endless spiral of anxiety that halted when your apartment door swung open.

"oh, hi! you're here early." you sing, noticing him visibly stiffen at the sudden introduction. famous youtuber and twitch streamer , applepi : this guy was a big name in a the gaming sphere at the moment. admittedly, you didn't watch a lot of his content, but his influence and fame was undeniable. you revised for this meeting by binge watching his past livestreams, so you weren't going in totally blind — overall, he seemed like a sweet guy and the perfect candidate for your publicity stunt.

plus, he was so cute. his hair is long for a guy, and slightly bleach damaged, but it suited him somehow. his features were appealing to look at too ; piercing eyes that are almost feline. though they are currently widened to match his awkwardly startled expression.

or at least, that's what you thought. really, although you did surprise him a bit at first, the reason he was still stood staring at you in prolonged silence, was simply because he was soaking up your ethereal presence. he couldn't believe you were real and standing right afore him.

and you were exactly like your account promised. no editing or filters. that pretty face with those glossy lips that tempt in-person just as much as they do online. your perfectly shaped body was currently clad in a baggy pair of shorts and a low-cut tank top which exposed the bold curve of your tits and that salacious cleavage which was already starting to drive him crazy. was it bad that he already wanted to start sucking on those pretty tits? was he perverted for wanting to rip those shorts right off to see if your pussy was as cute and tight as it is online?

fuck, he's not even been here for a minute yet and already getting hard.

"uh— hello? kenma. you there?" you ask with a curious tilt of your head, since he seemed too stunned to respond.

snapped out of his trance, he hurriedly stammers out a reply, "uh, yeah— hi."

"hi," you repeat with a kind smile, "kenma. that's your name, right?"

"yeah." he mumbles, his cock throbbing upon hearing you say his real name in that melodic voice. he was so used to hearing you mewl and moan, it was kinda weird hearing you talk normally.

"why don't you come in?" you offer, stepping out of the way and softly gesturing for him to enter. he does so, timidly shuffling inside and examining your flat while you shut the door behind him.

he could help but gawk at his surroundings , having finally step foot in your home — it was like a place of mystery and myth. having seen snapshots of your flat in the background of your posts and videos, it was as though he was finally putting together the strangest puzzle. what he never sussed out earlier though, is that you live in a studio. still, he recognises the various parts from content. there, to his immeidate right, was your kitchen area, and the familiar countertop you are bent over in many up-skirt pics. in front of him, there is the large window which you frequently pose nude in front of , which would leave him seething at the thought of any pervvy window-cleaners catching a glimpse of you. against the adjacent wall, was your infamous desk with your pc setup on it, surely the one you would use to broadcast your rauchy livestreams. it felt terribly meta seeing the device in-person, along with your leathery gaming chair, which is shockingly prisitne, yet he seen first-hand how much squirt that thing has been covered with. finally , although he couldn't view it well from where he was standing, a few feet behind your desk was your bed. the main attraction.

"sorry, i don't have a living room or anything, but feel free to sit down here." you scramble to pull out one of the bar stools by your kitchen counter, and it grates against the wooden flooring, causing kenma to wince, "would you like me to get you a beverage? maybe a tea or something?"

cautiously, he sits down on the stool and his eyes follow your figure as you move round the counter into the kitchen to prepare yourself a drink, "water, please."

after removing two wine glasses from your cabinet, you fill each one with water from your filter, "yeah, i'm not feeling tea right now either. and coffee probably isn't advisable." you snicker to yourself, and kenma smirks.

he mutters his thanks as you hand him a glass, and you remain on the opposite side of the counter as you converse, "so, i was thinking we could shoot a video today?" you say, shockingly casual, then take a lengthy sip of your water, "is that okay with you, or do you just want to stick with photos?"

"a video is fine." kenma croaks, attempting to not choke on his water.

"great. my bed is just round there. i've set up some lights and a tripod too, so we should be good to go. oh, and clean sheets." you explain, trying your best to project confidence and praying that he doesn't pick up on how inexperienced you are — especially as you are meant to be the 'expert'. but your insistent lack of eye-contact and stammering might've given you away. "heh, i should admit, i've never done anything like this before."

kenma raises an eyebrow, "hm? i thought this is your job."

"sorta. what i mean is that i usually make, erm— solo content. i'm not used to working with others. not like this anyway." you idly fidget with the stem of your glass, beginning to ramble from sheer panic, "i mean, sometimes my friends might help me take pics. y'know, posing or getting the right lighting. but they don't feature in any, it's mostly just me. well, except for that one time, but yeah."

kenma was forced to sit there and grip onto the stem of his glassware and pretend like he didn't know exactly what you were talking about. (for your birthday, you released exclusive content, wherein fans could buy you stuff off your amazon wishlist and receive special photos in return. most of them were of you in your birthday suit, but a couple of the more candid ones showed you dancing in the club with your friends.)

"i'm new to this as well. but we'll work it out together." he reassures, in his silky voice that already has you rubbing your thighs together with anticipation.

"alright. i guess i'm done with my drink. do you want to just, erm, get started?" you inquire through gritted teeth, and he answers your question by simply getting up and following you to your bed.

before you plop yourself down at the end of the bed, and he perches beside you, the camera is first turned on and the lights are adjusted to suit. "i hope they are not too bright?" you ask, as you notice he sublty winces at the harsh illumination.

"it's fine." he shrugs.

"okay, i find this setting works well for me when i'm on my own. but let me know if you wanna change it."

well, kenma thinks to himself, if this is the lighting that makes you look like an otherwordly, divine spirit in all of your videos, then he must be able to put some faith in it.

"also, remember, the key to a good porno is lots of foreplay. think you can do that?" you challenge, and without hesitation, kenma nods.

"great, in that case, should we just start?" you suggest, toying with your own fingers, "don't worry about messing up or getting it right the first time. i rarely get the right footage in one take, it usually takes me three or four rounds before i get the perfect shot."

fuck, there's no way. as soon as the words exit your word, there's a horny pang that ruptures through kenma's mind, almost causing him to shudder. all the times he's seen you squirt at your desk , or orgasm uncontrollably on your bed, that's been the third or fourth take? to think, how swollen and sore your poor little clit must've been from all that stimulation, just to get the perfect shot for your viewers. you were too heavenly. and what he would do to give that sweet clit a kiss.

"kenma? hello?" you call out, as he appears to be lost in a daze once again.

"uh, hi." he jumps back to reality with a firm blink, "thanks. i'm down to reshoot as many times as we need." which is true, he's been working on his stamina and going on runs specifically for this purpose.

"that's great. but are you sure that you want to do this today? you seem a bit distracted."

he shakes his head slightly, "i'm fine."

"if you say so." you sigh, as you sit up and throw one of your legs over kenma's lap so you are straddling him, "the cameras are rolling, so let's go. don't hold back on me." you purr, arching your back into him and tugging him up by his hoodie's drawstrings into a deep kiss, which he is quick to reciprocate.

it's as though he was having some sort of out-of-body experience, like his mind just couldn't comprehend that you — the woman he's been fanning over and masterbating to for years — was finally on top of him. and he didn't need to empty his bank account for it to happen.

despite the surreal feeling, he tried his best to ground himself by slipping a hand under your shorts and squeezing a handful of your ass, reminding him that you were real and he could touch you. in fact, your lips even vibrated against his own as you mewl over the rough groping. he was more randy than you initially assumed, but that's not to say you didn't enjoy it.

as your lips weaved together in a sensual rhythm, his hand becomes increasingly eager and is able to locate your pantie-clad pussy under your loose shorts. his fingertips poked at and explored your soft folds, and he could feel the wet patch in the fabric where it was drooling for him. the camera would only show his hand stuffed between your thighs, but you knew how his slender fingers were toying with your supple cunt.

similarly, as you got lost in the kiss, his fingers drew towards your clit like a magnet to metal, even through the damp fabric of your panties. it was odd but also kinda a turn-on how familiar he was with female anatomy — you figured he must get a lot of action, or something like that. little did you know, he didn't know the first thing about women's biology , he was only able to find your clit so easily due to the fact he's seen so many of your livestreams that an image of your pussy is basically seared onto his prefrontal cortex. so, considering how much time he's spent watching you abuse that little nub with your vibrator, it would be shameful if he didn't couldn't locate your clit in under a second.

your lips were still dancing against his in a sloppy kiss and your arms were wrapped around his shoulders and your soft tits were pressed against his chest and was it just his imagination of could he feel those cute nipples poking him through your tank top? while you whined into his mouth, his hand adventured under your shorts and rubbed that spongy spot between your folds and you were so wet it was seeping through your panties and sticking to his fingers and when he moved to slap your cunt , he could feel the dip where that tight hole was and how the fabric clung to it and— and fuck, he needs to tear this shit off you.

you try to put on a performance for the viewers — make a little show out of tugging your shorts of for the video that was hopefully going to be viewed by thousands , if not millions of horny gamers. but kenma prevented you from doing so.

"hurry up." his fingers, which were previously digging into the supple flesh of your thighs, move to keenly tug at your waistband. although you were making good progess sensually pulling your shorts down as you sway your hips for the camera, kenma is far to impatient and you stumble as he rushes them all the way down your legs and carelessly tosses them aside.

he grabs a fistful of your newly exposed ass cheek and kneads it in his hand, pulling you back in and deepening the kiss once again. "you're so pretty like this.." he rumbles against your mouth, and you can't help but smile. "better than i imagined." maybe he shouldn't have said that, especially as he's trying to pretend like he's not a fanboy that's been routinely pleasuring himself to you for the last year.. but it's the heat of the moment, and it's so true. he could've never conceptualised how angelic you'd feel, how sweet you'd taste and how deliciously lewd you'd smell.

you're so soft and malleable and light, it's like if he held you too firmly you'd shatter, but if he loosened his grip you might dissipate into thin air. and he couldn't let that happen.

a low whimper is strung from his throat as you lightly grind hips down against his throbbing erection. the noise he made caused him to cringe a little, hence his hand instinctually gripped your ass harder, and it didn't help when you giggled quietly while littering kisses over his jawline and neck. no, that only made him even more self-conscious, and in a fit of frustration, he smacks your ass with all the strength he has in his arm. then, he does it again.

you squeal slightly and strighten up, clinging to his shoulder and looking down at his blank face with a pout. his hands massages the warm area upon which he delivered his merciless strike, squeezing at your raw skin. "sorry.." he says timidly, though the lustful and greedy glint at his eye suggests that he might not be so apologetic.

still, you howl with your back turned to the camera, "ow, kenma!" and he genuinely feels guilty for a split second, until you lean in and whisper into his ear, quiet enough so the microphone wouldn't pick up on it, "do it harder next time, please."

kenma's eyes widen, and the insenity of his erection has suddenly shifted from mild to unbearable. thankfully, you are there to lead the way, and you push him back so he is laying on the bed, and you crawl on top of him, pecking all across his neck while he desperately works on unzipping his fly. usually, he taking his clothes off in front of a camera and professional lightening would've caused him a decent amount of mental turmoil, but fortunately due to the extreme discomfort between his legs, he was able to bypass that phase and skip straight to the part where he is trying to shove his cock into your snug little cunt. the cocksleeve of his dreams.

but of course, you are there to interupt him by grabbing his dick with your cute hands and whispering, "remember what i said about foreplay." kenma presses his lips into a fine line, almost tearing up while attempting not to come undone right there in your hand.

you let go and shuffle forward so you're straddling his lower torso, and your pantie-clad pussy is sat on his lower abdomen. you take the hem of your fitted tank top and pull it up over your head, and out fall your gorgeous tits. just the right size and it's like your pebbled nipples were staring right at him, begging to be sucked and toyed with, calling out desperately for attention, crying out just like how they did online during your private livestreams together. except the only difference is this time, kenma can actually reach out and pinch those adorable nubs with his own fing—

"kenma!" you yelp, feeling the hot cum that was leaking down his shaft touch your lower back. fuck, he came. despite his effort to bite it back, upon seeing your perfect tits, his seed naturally came spilling out too, drooling down the length of his cock and staining his thighs and the part of your back and ass that had been situated near him.

"mph, sorry. you're too hot.." he groaned, in a low enough tone that the microphone probably couldn't have picked it up. you furrow your brows and look down at him with a disatisfied pout; though you can feign anger all you want, doesn't change the fact you were secretly endeared by how easily he came for you. he's like putty if your hands. not that this kind of treatment from men is foreign to you — you entertain gooner fanboys all day, it's kinda your job — but kenma wasn't one of them. no, he's a famous livestreamer and millionaire stock-trader, who most women would be delighted to have sex with but he's still so down bad for you.

but you're only a niche camgirl; he'd probably never even heard of you before you reached out to him about a collab.

your chest heaved as you were momentarily fixated on the feeling of his hot cum splattered on your back, running down your skin in drops, over the rotund globe of your ass and back down on to his lower stomach where you were sat. meanwhile, his narrow eyes explored your perfect figure some more. your pretty tits, the tempting dip of your waist, your erect nipples, your panties which clung to the outline of your damp cunt: of course, he's seen it all before online, but this was different. and so much better.

his hands traced your silhouette, sliding up and down the sensual curves of your body and cupping those perky tits. the words left him without considersation, "can i taste?" he croaked.

"of course." you hummed politely in response. however, you were lost in thoughts of your own, and were not paying attention to the way he was lecherously gazing at your tits. hence, you assumed he was referring to something else. and this misunderstanding only manifests when you shuffle forward, pull your panties aside and sit on his face.

but kenma doesn't protest. not only because he's suffocating in your pussy and can hardly speak, but also because he prefers it this way. he relished the oppertunity and grips your thighs, pressing them further down against his mouth.

his lips work against your folds, feverishly, lapping at your sopping labia and sucking on it — savouring at prisitine juices you have to offer. his eyes screw shut as he loses himself in your wet cunt, thrusting his tongue into your hole eagerly and devouring you like a depraved, starving man. and fucking loves it too, and this time he can't even bring himself to hide it; you can tell by the way he moans into your pussy and whispers all sorts of nasty shit under his breath about how your tight hole is going to rip his tongue off, or how you long he's been dreaming about eating you out.

and those are only the things you manage to hear over the obscene, wet noises his mouth is making against your cunt. you're not sure if it's from the sloppy make-out session he has with your folds, or if it is from his tongue repeatedly drilling into your sopping hole, but something is emitting a squealching sounds which you pray the microphone will detect.

"hah— mmh, t' much.." you whine, your fingers winding into his darkened roots as your squirm against his face, "you're so good, kenma."

"not done.." he grits, squeezing the meat of your thighs and burying himself deeper into your fluttering hole, "'m not done tasting you."

"but i'm close!" you blurt out, legs tensing around his head as a burning heat swirls within your abdomen.

"do it." he groaned, hips rutting into thin air as his tongue furiously pierces into your desperate pussy. "finish on my face.. please, baby, cum on me." at first it was a harsh demand, but the more your sweet pussy filled his senses, it became a plea.

soon, your first orgasm wracked through your shivering body, causing your walls to constrict around kenma's tongue, but that didn't stop him from him from kissing your hole as you climaxed. once you were finished though — your body relaxed and your pornographic shrieks fade into heavy breathing — when you move to pull yourself off his face, his hands grip onto your thighs and hold you in place. his lips then begin to move again as he reestablishes a rhythm to continue eating you out.

his enthusiasm, although cute, was lost on you as you keep trying to pull yourself off his face, to no avail. he whines, words muffled by his mouth locked to your pussy, "nggh, please, princess. 'm not done. let me go again. you're so tasty." his fingers cling to your supple flesh, unable to let you go.

you squirm against his face from the ticklish vibrations of his voice against your clit. yours hands grasp meekly onto his longish blond locks, idly massaging his scalp, "mm, but we need to keep going, honey. for the.." your breath hitches, and you mouth the final word, "film."

"fuck the video.." he groans, pressuring your cunt down against his mouth as he starts gnawing at your insides once again. his lips peppered sloppy kisses at your puckered entrance, then his tongue wormed through your restrictive walls and lapped at gummy spot within you, causing back to arch and an utterly pornographic moan to be yanked from you.

instictually, your hips began to rut against his face as your body revels in the feral way he eats out your pussy. "so good, baby.. can't get enough of you, please don't ever make me leave." he murmurs, stamina fueled by a lust-induced trance.

"think you c— ngh— kenma!" you open your mouth to tease him but your abruptly cut off by a string of moans and sobs that your body is no longer able to suppress. from the way his tongue laps at your puffy folds and his nose prods at your delicate clit, there's a growing desire in the pit of your stomach which is becoming increasingly difficult to hide.

"you like that ? feel good?"

originally you'd been trying to stay collected as this was only just the foreplay, but he was doing something to you, and you just couldn't contain yourself any longer. there you were on your bed riding his face and jutting your hips against him, craving friction and selfishly chasing your high without a care in the word for the man suffocating between your legs.

his whole arms were locked around your legs to keep you in place and his eyes were squeezed shut as he delved into your hole, pushing into you repeatedly while you called for to him. "kenma! please!" you pleaded to the ceiling. " 'm right there , please."

"anything for you. just cum for me, kitten. let it all out. finish on my face again." his tongue was too far up your hole and he was too immersed in your needy, juicy cunt to give a fuck about the cringy pet name. that's what he's always called you in his head — his cute little kitten, with innocent eyes and a hidden fierceness — even when he was just a fan , pumping his cock to your digital pussy on his screen. but now it was real , as real as your arousal smearing his chin and dripping down his throat.

and as real as the squirt gushing from your pussy as you climaxed, drenching his face and neck. his tongue was freed from your spasming hole but he continued to suck on and nibble at your pulsing clit, massaging your ass to coax you through your high.

it was euphoric, your pent-up stress releasing as a wave of bliss coarsed through your body. your muted screamed bounced off the wall as you revelled in the sensation, without a drop of care for your neighbours or those who might overhear.

as your coming down, the orgasmic dizziness begins to fade and your seneses sharpen, which is when you become conscious of a hot fluid dripping down your back. your brows furrow, and you try to reach your hand back to touch it but unfortunately your arms don't bend that far. that's when you hear a murmur of a dishevelled kenma from between your legs, mouth still brushed up against your clit, "erm, sorry. again."

you turn around to see that he came a second time, and now his cum has spurted all up his chest and some must've also splattered across your back, again.

all you can do is titter in response, shuffling off his face and kneeling on the bed beside him, "don't worry about it.." taking his slender hand in your own, you guide it towards your hips as you twist around and bend over on the bed, bracing yourself with your elbows with your ass in the air. "c'mon. 'm ready to take you." still riding your depleting high, you look back at him with your bottom lip captured betwen your teeth and a wanton glint in your eyes. "wanna hurry up and give it to me, daddy?"

even though a part of him reckoned you were playing it up for the camera, he couldn't help but relish at how needy you are. who knew fucking yourself stupid with a dildo and toying with your clit all day while livestreaming wasn't enough for your greedy little pussy? still desperate to get stuffed by him; a guy you hardly knew. god, it drove him crazy to think about.

he swiftly sat up and aligned himself with your entrance, smearing the head of his cock over your glistening folds and lubricating himself with your arousal. he couldn't believe this. his breath hitched at the sight , along with the realisation that he was about to enter the same sweet cunt that he's been dreaming about for ages. he salivates at the notion, wondering whether your walls would squeeze his dick just like he imagined.

there was only one way to find out. wasting no time, the distance between his hips and yours narrow as he buries himself into your creamy hole. his eyes screw shut and he clenches a fistful of your ass, experiecing an overwhelming level of satisfaction as your walls grip onto his length. "nngh, i knew this pussy was made for me.." he grumbles, torso going slack as he leans forward, body laying against yours, with his cheek pressed against the back of your neck — without an ounce of concern for the cum on your back which was now surely staining his chest further.

"mhm, n' you fill me up so good." you mewl, squirming back against him and appreciating the inches of stimulation it brings you. you're given some time to adjust to his impressive length, stretching your stubborn walls to fit him inside you while he remained stagnant, body caving into yours as he savoured the moment.

" n' you're so fucking tight too.. you're like a dream come true." he droned in his usual monotone voice, "don't think i can ever pull out of you. this is where i belong. deep inside you." talk about pussy-drunk; this is the most talkative you've seen him so far.

it took one or two more agitated squirms before he figured out you were attempting to covertly ask for more. as much as he was enjoying himself cuddling into your back while balls-deep in your cunt, he straightening his posture and slowly begins to rock his hips into you. starting a reasonable and moderate pace, and working his way up until he was hurriedly slamming his cock into your pussy over and over.

a staggered cry emitted from your mouth with every harsh slap of his hips against yours ass, along with the cruel pierce of his length against yoru cervix. your whole body was rocked by his brutal force, and your tits swung in such an overt way — easily identifiable by a potential viewer.

"hah— yes, ke— kenma! right— there—" the breathy words stumbled out of you, accompanied by a high-pitched whine of pleasure. "no— no one's ever— mph, fucked me like this!"

"you're taking it so well, kitten." meanwhile, kenma's focus was zeroed in on your ass, watching it bounce against him as he pounded into your sopping hole repeatedly. the juices seeped out of you — an unholy mixture of precum, your wetness and his saliva — and culminated in a ring at the base of his cock.

your gummy walls swallowed him whole and took him so nicely. hugging every inch of his unloved cock and showing him the affection he deserved. so tight, and so good for him. it almost made him feel bad for mercilessly drilling into you. "just like that. stay just like that, pretty girl." he heaved, as his fingers idly trail up your thighs until they reach your folds, wherein he begins to rub and pinch at your clit.

it was all just so much. his expert fingers; his fat cock; his warm body against yours. plus, you were still sensitive from your previous two orgasms. the rigid knot was building up within you so quickly. your body was tensing and he could sense you were close from the way your walls clung to his unforgiving dick. "please, ke— enma. i'm so close, i'm so fucking close."

"shh. i know, baby. n' i'm going to take care of you. so just relax." his voice his shaky yet so calming and remorseful; in stark contrast to the way his dick keeping ploughing into you, relentlessly bullying your poor cervix and your aching little hole. this was serious, as reflected by the severe glint in his eyes; this means a lot more to him just some stupid video. he's a man on a mission.

his length ravaged your insides yet it was stroking all the right places, just as his hands caressed your thighs and ass. "such a good girl. can't believe this pussy's all mine."

with that, you tossed your head back and let pure bliss encapsulate your trembling body. your arms gave out from underneath you but the overwhelming pleasure coarsing through you distracted from the discomfort of your face hitting the mattress. despite how your cunt clamped down on him, kenma attempted to still fuck you through your high, but all he managed was a few feeble thrusts and a single stroke of your clit before he came undone inside you.

your moans bounced off the walls and filled the room. it was hard to cope with the conjestive feeling of his hot seed permeating your insides, but you were given time to lay down and recover. and soon, kenma's twitching body collapsed on top of you and joined you.

his dick was still buried in your stuffed pussy , and he was a bit heavy on top of you, but you were far too worn out to utter a complaint about it. instead, you just laid there and tried to catch your breath, flinching occasionally.

until you eventually spoke up, "that was a good demo. i think we've still got a lot of practising to do though, before we're ready to shoot the real thing."

"sure." he replied plainly.

there was a beat of silence between you, in which you could hear kenma still puffing for air. to lighten the mood, you ask, "by the way, what's with the nickname? 'kitten' ; i've never heard that one before."

"oh, do you not like it?"

"no, i don't mind it." you say defensively, "well, maybe you shouldn't use it during the final take, but it's not that bad. certainly new. never been called that before, which is pretty crazy considering guys online have called me plenty of unique nicknames: pumpkin, sugarplum, even honey muffin — but not kitten."

"hm, i think it just reminded me of you." he explains flatly, "but now that i think about it, i guess 'bunny' might've suited you more."

"hm, how come?"

"cos of your halloween costume. remember?"

"oh, yeah!" you giggle at the memory; the year you went as a bunny was certainly a wild one. gosh, it must've been ages ago now.. you think to yourself. and suddenly, your heart rate begins to increase as a realisation comes crashing down on you:

"huh, it's strange you know that, though. considering the only people who know about that costume are my friends, and the fifteen people who bought the pictures off my account."

shit.

#kenma smut #haikyuu smut #kenma x reader #kenma x you #kenma x y/n #haikyuu time skip #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you

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houseofaegon · 2 months ago

Text

Don't Let Go ✩ Bob Reynolds

Pairings: Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolt!Reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. rough sex, emotional sex, public sex, mental health themes (trauma, guilt, PTSD), depictions of breakdowns, emotional, angst, praise kink, possessiveness, aftermath of violence, unprotected p in v, guilt, self-loathing, established trauma bond.

Summary: The mission was supposed to be clean. Routine. But nothing is simple when the Sentry is involved, when Bob loses control, and the Void takes over. And when he does, you're the only one who can pull him back.

Word Count: 4658

Author's Note: don't even ask me if I'm okay cause the answer is no. I'm destroyed. completely destroyed and emotionally wrecked. i am ruined. bob reynolds ruins me. if you finished this and also felt like your heart's been pulled out and kissed back to life, welcome to the club. my inbox is open if you want to send me your therapy bill—just know I’m probably gonna have to come with you cause what the fuck. i love you bobby you're everything to me!!! if you want to be added to my taglist just comment below!! <333 feel free to cry with me in the comments and scream in the reblogs. i need to go outside and touch some grass, reconnect with nature and breathe cause my heart is destroyed after this one. i literally can't stop writing for bob what the hell!! bucky is jealous cause bob's taking up space in my mind that used to belong to bucky. lewis pullman you babygirlllllllllllll

masterlist.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The mission was supposed to be simple. In and out. Detain the targets, secure the entire facility, and minimize civilian casualties. Standard Thunderbolts cleanup. You'd done this dance before—storm in, assert dominance, extract data and bodies. Easy.

But you knew the moment Bucky said, "Bob's on this one," everything in your chest went cold.

The tower was quiet, too quiet, until it wasn't. Until the entire place was filled with hurried footsteps, shouts bouncing off the walls, and orders being thrown like grenades, gear bags being slammed open, weapons loaded with sharp clicks, and comms lighting up with rapid-fire intel. The whole floor shifted into emergency mode.

You'd barely finished gearing up when Yelena grabbed your arm and dragged you toward the elevator, her expression tight, mouth set in that grim, no-bullshit line that only ever meant bad news.

"Valentina wants all of us on-site," she muttered, pressing the call button with enough force to crack the panel. "Right now. Facility breach. Something about biotech. Hostages."

"Since when do we scramble before briefing?" you asked, yanking the zipper of your new tactical suit closed, holster strap still half-loose dangling on your hip. "Do we even have a plan?"

Yelena didn't answer. She didn't have to.

When the elevator doors opened, Bucky was already inside, pacing back and forth. His jaw clenched, comms piece buzzing with chatter. He looked up when he saw you—but he didn’t smile. Didn’t nod.

Jeez, so much for a good morning.

"Let me guess," you said, stepping into the elevator next to him. "Valentina's stunt?"

"She pulled Bob in last minute," Bucky said, his voice laced with frustration. "Didn't even care to fucking tell me. I found out when I saw his name on the team feed. Walker's there with him, Ava too."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you froze. "She put him first? With Walker?"

“She wants to see if he's still 'field-capable.'" Bucky's voice dripped sarcasm. "Her exact words. She thinks this is some kind of game. Like we're testing out a new drone, not a man who nearly blacked out half of a city six months ago."

“Is she out of her fucking mind?” you hissed. “Bob’s not—he’s not ready. He shouldn't be anywhere near this.”

“No shit,” Yelena muttered from the other side, crossing her arms. “And we’re the ones who’ll have to clean up if he loses it again.”

You exhaled slowly, trying to damp down the rolling anger in your chest. Not at Bob—of course not, this wasn't his fault. You were mad at Valentina and her fucking need to push him to the edge. "Great," you muttered, rubbing your face with a hand. "Let's all just hold hands and pray he doesn't crack."

The VTOL sliced through the clouds like a blade, engines humming low and tense. Rain battered the sides in sharp bursts.

You sat strapped between Yelena and Alexei, your harness tight across your chest, heart beating even tighter beneath it. Across from you, Bucky was locked in, jaw clenched, staring out the side window with a look that could shatter the glass any moment. When he finally looked away from the window, he fixed his gaze directly on you.

"I need you to be ready," he said, voice low and rasped. "In case Void—" He paused, breathing raggedly. "In case Bob snaps."

You blinked. "Bucky—"

"If it happens," he cut you off, "if he breaks... don't wait for an order. Do not hesitate. You hit him with everything you've got."

Your mouth opened, but no words came out.

Because you hesitated.

Not because you didn't understand the danger. Not because you didn't know what Bob was capable of when the Void took hold. You'd seen it. Firsthand. The devastation. The aftermath. The look in his eyes—those dark, endless eyes—when he realized what he’d done.

But you'd also seen something else. You'd also seen the other side of him. The guilt

You'd been there the last time. When the Void clawed its way up his throat like poison, he dropped to his knees, shaking, burning with power, guilt, and fear. You were the only one who could get through to him. The only one who could touch him without him recoiling like he might shatter.

You'd whispered his name and watched his fist unclench slowly. You'd put your hand on his chest and feel his heartbeat slow. You'd seen how the black storm slowly evaporated, leaving a broken man sobbing against your chest.

That night was the worst for Bob.

You remember it vividly—his body trembling against yours, eyes wide and hollow after the Void had finally disappeared. He hadn't said a word. Just sank to the ground, hands fisting in his hair, like he was trying to hold his skull together.

You’d dropped down beside him, pulled him close, felt the heat radiating off his skin like a fever breaking. And when he finally clung to you—arms wrapped around your waist, face buried in your shoulder—it wasn’t just desperation. It was terror. Like if he let go, he’d fall into some pit that never ended.

He cried.

God, he cried so hard.

And you didn’t say anything. You didn’t try to soothe it away. You just held him. Let him shake. Let him break.

That night, you stayed with him.

He pulled you into bed like he didn’t even realize he was doing it—just moved toward your body like it was instinct, like your presence was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world. His fingers curled in your shirt, his face buried in your chest, breath hiccuping between exhausted sobs.

You thought he’d fall asleep eventually.

He didn’t. Not right away.

He kept whispering, voice barely audible: “Don’t leave. Please. Just… don’t leave.”

And how could you?

You didn’t.

So you stayed.

And when he finally passed out—curled around you like a second skin, little soft snores slipping past parted lips—you just watched him. His face was peaceful for once. Almost boyish. His lashes fluttered when he dreamed, but he didn’t cry out. Not with you there.

You tried to slip out once.

Just to stretch. To breathe. But the second your body shifted away, his arms tightened like a vice, dragging you back in, even in his sleep. Like his subconscious couldn’t bear the thought of you disappearing.

From that night on, it became… a thing.

Every time he had a nightmare. Every time the Void started to whisper again. Every time he needed quiet but didn’t know how to ask for it—he came to you.

He never knocked loud. Just a soft tap on your door, barely audible. You’d open it to find him standing there, shoulders hunched, hair messy, eyes big and guilty and so shy. Like he hated himself for needing you but couldn’t help it.

“Can I…?” he’d start to ask, voice barely above a whisper.

And you’d always let him in.

Always.

God, you loved it. Loved being the one person he came to. The one place he felt safe. The way he melted into you the second the door shut. The way he’d sleep tangled in your arms, legs hooked with yours like he needed as many points of contact as possible to stay grounded.

You never told anyone.

You never wanted to ruin it.

It was quiet. Sacred. Yours.

And now, strapped into this VTOL, Bucky’s words still echoing in your ears—“Don’t hesitate. Hit him with everything you’ve got”—all you could think about was how peaceful he looked in your bed. How tightly he held you. How terrified he was of being alone.

Because what if you could reach him again?

What if hitting him wasn’t the answer? What if all he needed was someone to see him before he disappeared completely?

Bucky must’ve seen the flicker in your expression, because his voice dropped lower.

“I know you’re close to him. I know he listens to you more than anyone else. But if that stops—if he doesn’t hear you this time... don’t let him take you down with him.”

He’ll hear me, you thought, jaw clenched.

He has to.

Yelena’s hand reached over, slow and steady, her fingers brushing against yours before curling around them. Her grip was warm, firm—anchoring. You turned slightly, meeting her eyes.

She gave you a small, quiet smile. The kind that didn’t promise everything would be okay, just that you wouldn’t be alone when it wasn’t.

“It’ll be alright,” she whispered. "We'll be right behind you."

You squeezed her hand back, once.

"Visuals confirm contact inside the facility," the pilot’s voice crackled through the comms. "We’ve got movement near the lab sector. Hostiles engaged. Sentry’s already on-site."

You looked up sharply. "Already?"

He wasn’t supposed to engage alone.

Bucky swore under his breath, ripping the earpiece out and jamming it back in. "Why the fuck didn’t you wait for us—"

Ava spoke through the comms, her voice shivering. “He didn’t wait. I told him to stand down, and he just… went in.”

Then the ground came into view through the viewport—flames licking up from the roof of the biotech facility, smoke pluming into the sky, the perimeter in total disarray.

"Doors open in twenty seconds," the pilot called.

You shivered. You could feel it. That humming tension in your bones, the kind that only came right before everything went to hell.

He's already slipping.

"Get ready," Bucky barked, snapping his rifle into place as he stood. "Move fast, eyes sharp. We don't know how bad it is yet."

Yelena stood up, nodding once, checking her gear. You followed closely behind.

“Hostiles are still active inside,” came another voice—Walker’s, sharp and panicked over comms. “But it’s—fuck, it’s a massacre down here. I don’t know what the hell he’s doing. I can't see him. He’s not fucking responding.”

Your heart clenched.

“Bob,” you whispered, barely audible.

Then: a boom.

A section of the lower level erupted in a plume of golden-white light, fire tearing up through the concrete as the building shook from the force of it. A pulse of energy rippled outward, flattening a chunk of the south wall like paper.

The VTOL lurched slightly from the shockwave.

“Doors opening!” the pilot shouted. “Deploy, deploy—go, go!”

The ramp dropped—and the storm hit you in the face.

Rain. Smoke. Sirens. And somewhere beneath it all, a familiar hum.

You ran.

Boots pounding against the rooftop, leaping the last few feet to the access hatch. Bucky and Yelena flanked you, weapons drawn, slicing through the chaos with practiced precision.

You barely had time to adjust before Bucky grabbed your arm, spinning you toward him. His face was grim, soaked, eyes blazing.

“Go!” he shouted over the roar. “You need to find him!”

“What about—?”

“We’ll handle the rest!” he cut in, already moving, already aiming down the chaos below. “If anyone can reach him before he turns this whole goddamn place to ash—it’s you. Yelena will be right behind you. Walker and Ava are already inside. Go!”

Your breath hitched.

Then you nodded, once, sharp and sure.

And you ran—straight into the smoke, straight into the fire.

Straight toward him.

The inside of the facility was a warzone. Emergency lights flickered through thick smoke. Sparks rained from broken ceiling panels. The walls were scorched, the tile beneath your boots cracked and slick with blood and water. You passed fallen bodies—some hostiles, some just gone, disintegrated into scorched outlines and ash.

He’d been here.

You ran faster. Your breath became shorter. Your fingers twitched at your sides.

And then you saw him.

Floating.

Just inches off the ground, his body trembling with power barely held in check. His suit was torn, soaked, blood-slick. His hair clung to his forehead in damp curls. His hands hung at his sides, fingers curled in like claws.

He hand't noticed you yet. He was talking to himself, low and frantic, like he didn't even realize sound was coming out of his mouth.

“I didn’t mean to—I tried, I tried, they didn’t listen—I told them not to run—why did they run—”

Your heart clenched. You took a breath, steady and slow. Lifted your hands, palms open, non-threatening. Stepped forward, one careful step at a time.

"Bob," you whispered.

His head jerked up like a struck animal. His eyes were pitch black. Not just his pupils. Everything. You could see the Void slowly taking over control of his entire body. Crawling across his skin in veins of shadow, threading through him like poison, claiming more and more by the second. There was nothing human in his face.

Then he saw you.

You took another step forward, heart hammering against your ribs.

"Bob," you said again, softer now.

His lips parted. The black in his eyes shimmered, like something beneath it was trying to break through, trying to remember.

You took another step.

"I'm here," you said, voice steady despite the tremble in your hands. "It's me."

"GET DOWN!" a voice screamed behind you.

You barely turned in time to see the soldier—young, shaken, finger already tightening on the trigger of his rifle, aimed straight at Bob.

“No!” you shouted, throwing a hand out. “Don’t—don’t shoot him!”

But it was too late.

You whipped back toward Bob—and his hand was already rising. Not fast. Slow. Deliberate.

Eyes locked on the soldier, face blank and unreadable, voice low and distant.

“Mine.”

“Bob!” you screamed, adrenaline tearing through your veins like lightning. You rushed toward him, arm outstretched. “STOP! STOP!”

A pulse of black energy burst from his palm. It didn’t make a sound. It didn’t explode. It just erased. The soldier was there—and then he wasn’t.

No scream. No blood. Just a curling wisp of smoke, and a blackened shadow scorched into the tile where he’d stood. Like reality itself had been scrubbed clean.

Your breath caught. Your body froze.

The soldier was gone. Just like that. And Bob? He didn't move. Didn't even flinch. Just stood there, hand still raised, void energy curling around his fingers like it wanted more.

You moved before you even realized it.

You ran.

“BOB!” you screamed, voice hoarse with panic.

You slammed into him, hands flying up to grab his face—rough, desperate, grounding. Your fingers dug into his jaw, into his cheeks, trying to feel him, shake him loose from the darkness overtaking his body.

“Bob! Look at me!” you yelled, tears already slipping down your face. “Fuck—look at me, please!"

His head twitched in your grip, eyes still black, but they widened. Like he didn’t know how you got so close. Like he didn’t even recognize his own name.

“You promised,” you choked out, forehead pressed against his. “You promised you wouldn’t let this happen again. You said I could help you. You let me in. Bob, please, I know you can hear me. Let me in. Let me help you."

And then—

He blinked.

Once.

Twice.

The black void in his eyes gone, replaced by fear. Replaced by gut-wrenching guilt.

And suddenly his hands were on you—gripping your arms, trembling hard. Holding you like you were the only thing keeping him from flying apart.

“I didn’t mean to,” he rasped, voice splintering in his throat. “I just… he—he pointed that gun at you. I—”

His knees buckled.

You caught him.

“I didn’t mean to,” he rasped again, clinging like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “I didn’t—fuck, I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady, fingers stroking through his hair, down his back. “I know, it’s okay. You’re okay—I got you. I'm right here."

You could feel it under your hands—the tension building again. The static crawling across his skin. He was shaking harder now, like he was trying to hold himself together with bare hands and sheer will, and it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

“I told them,” he growled, voice rising, wild and hoarse. “I told them not to send me. I told them—I told them!”

“Bob,” you tried again, your hands cradling his face, trying to ground him. “Stop—just breathe, okay? Look at me. Just look at me. It’s over. You’re okay. I’m here.”

“Bob—”

“Holy shit,” someone gasped.

You turned. Too fast. The team stood there. Yelena’s eyes were wide. Ava’s mouth hung open. Alexei looked stunned. Bucky was frozen mid-step.

And Walker? Walker’s gaze went straight to the scorched mark on the floor, and his lip curled.

“What the fuck did he do?”

That was it.

You snapped.

“You were supposed to look out for him!” you roared, your voice echoing down the hall like a whipcrack. “You knew he wasn’t ready! You knew, and you left him in there anyway—what the fuck were you thinking?!”

“Don’t yell at me because your little pet project finally snapped—”

You stepped toward him so fast Yelena actually reached out to stop you.

“Say that again, Walker.” you dared, low and deadly. “Say it. Fucking say it again.”

“Guys—” Ava started.

“Oh my god,” Yelena whispered behind you.

And that’s when you realized—Bob wasn’t in your arms anymore.

You turned, panic already in your throat. He was standing a few feet away, eyes locked on the floor, fists clenched. His shoulders were shaking, his jaw tight, like he was about to split open.

The way they were all looking at him. Like he was a monster.

And he saw it. He saw everything.

“No, no, wait—” you started.

But he was already moving. He shoved past you, not roughly—never roughly—but like he couldn’t stand to be touched anymore. Like he didn’t deserve it. And then he ran.

You didn’t hesitate.

You ran after him.

You found him down a back alley, drenched in rain, his back pressed to the wall like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His fists were clenched, jaw tight, chest heaving like he couldn’t catch his breath. He hadn’t looked at you yet, but you could see it—how close he was to falling apart, how the power still surged beneath his skin, barely contained. His body shook with it, with guilt, with the kind of rage that didn’t know where to go.

You took a step closer and he shifted like he was going to bolt again, eyes flicking to the shadows like he could vanish into them.

You grabbed his wrist. Tight. “Don’t run.”

That stopped him. His breath hitched, but he didn’t turn.

“Bob,” you said, softer now, over the pounding rain. “Please. Look at me.”

He turned slowly—and god, the look on his face broke you wide open. Soaked, shattered, eyes full of guilt and too many unsaid things. He looked like he didn’t believe he deserved to stand in front of you. Like just being seen by you hurt.

Then he kissed you.

Hard. Desperate.

Like he needed your mouth to remind him he was still real.

The kiss came out of nowhere. Teeth. Tongue. Desperation. You collided like two storms, all sharp edges and soaked skin. His mouth crushed yours, messy, uncoordinated, bruising. You dragged your hands through his rain-slick hair, pulled him closer until your bodies slammed together. He groaned your name like it hurt to say it, like it ripped something open inside him just to speak it.

You kissed him back with everything you had, dragging your fingers through his soaked curls, pulling him closer, crushing your lips to his until your teeth clacked and your breath fogged the air between you. He whimpered into it, raw and broken, hands clutching your waist through your suit like he didn’t know where to touch, like he needed to touch everywhere.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped against your lips, voice already hoarse. “I’m so fucking sorry—please, I didn’t mean to—I didn’t—” His words cut off with a sob. You shushed him with another kiss, slower this time, lips brushing his like a promise.

“I need you,” he breathed, voice broken. “God—I need you, I need you so bad—I can’t—fuck—don’t let go—please, don’t let go—”

Your gear hit the wall behind you, water slapping between you like applause. His mouth was on your throat, biting, sucking, moaning, as your hands worked beneath his already ripped suit, shoving it aside, frantic to get to skin. His hips rocked into yours like he couldn’t stand being apart from you even for a second.

“Please,” he groaned again, breath hot against your ear. “I’ll do anything. Anything. Just—fuck—just let me have you.”

You gasped, arching against him, letting him press you tighter to the bricks. You were already soaked—skin flushed, thighs shaking—and the way he clung to you like you were the only real thing left in his world snapped something open inside you.

You grabbed his face, kissed him hard, desperate. “Take it,” you whispered, voice shaking. “Take anything. Everything. I’m all yours, Bob.”

He whimpered—actually whimpered—and that was it.

Your suit came undone in ragged pieces, his hands tearing at fastenings with trembling fingers, your legs wrapping around his waist as he shoved your soaked underwear aside. His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to leave bruises, grinding his cock against your slick center until you cried out, nails raking down his back.

“Fuck—fuck, you’re so wet,” he gasped. “You want it, don’t you? You want me to lose it for you—inside you—?”

“Yes,” you sobbed, tilting your head back as he pushed in. “Yes, yes—please—”

He thrust into you in one deep, brutal stroke and you screamed, fingers clawing at his soaked suit, legs tightening around his hips. He was so deep, so hot, so real, and the way he fucked you—fast, rough, relentless—was like he didn’t know if he’d survive without this. Without you.

Every thrust hit something raw, something needy, his voice ragged against your ear. “You’re mine—you’re mine, say it—fuck, say it—”

“I’m yours,” you cried, body shaking. “I’m yours, Bob—fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop—”

He sobbed against your throat, thrusting harder, faster, panting between curses and broken prayers. “You’re perfect—so perfect—god, you feel so good—you make everything quiet. You make it all fucking stop—”

And when you came, it hit like a shockwave—your whole body convulsing around him, mouth open in a wordless scream as he slammed into you, burying himself deep and coming hard, spilling inside you with a desperate cry of your name like it was the only thing anchoring him to this plane.

He held you afterward like he might never let go, still shaking, still breathing like he’d run through hell. His forehead pressed to yours, voice wrecked.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered. “Please don’t ever leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered back, and this time, it was a vow.

His breathing was ragged.

Shallow gasps against your neck, chest rising and falling like he was still trying to outrun something only he could see. The rain hadn’t let up. It fell in heavy sheets around you, but neither of you moved. You stayed wrapped around him, trembling, your back against the soaked alley wall, his body still buried in yours, shaking with the aftershocks.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t even lift his head.

His arms stayed locked around your waist like a vise, like if he let go even a little, you’d disappear. You felt him swallow, once, twice—and then his shoulders began to shake in a different way.

“Bob?” you whispered, hand sliding up to the back of his head, fingers weaving through his soaked hair. “Hey. Hey, I’m here.”

He sobbed.

Quiet at first. Just a ragged breath that stuttered out of him like it had been waiting for too long. Then another. And another. His whole body trembled, forehead pressed to your shoulder as he finally—finally—let himself fall apart.

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” he choked out. “I tried—I tried so fucking hard—I just wanted to be useful, I wanted to help—and I killed him—”

You shushed him softly, rocking him gently where you stood, your hands stroking down his back.

“You came back to me,” you said, voice low. “That’s all that matters. You came back.”

“I don’t deserve this,” he rasped, holding you tighter. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Shut up,” you whispered, tears mixing with the rain on your cheeks. “You do. You do. You’re still here. You’re still you. That’s all I care about.”

You stayed like that for what felt like forever—him wrapped around you like a lifeline, your bodies still locked together, breathing in sync. The heat between you slowly cooled, but the weight of it all stayed heavy, real.

Eventually, his head lifted, eyes red-rimmed, cheeks wet.

He looked at you like he didn’t believe you were real. Like maybe you were the only thing left in the world that hadn’t abandoned him.

“I’m scared,” he whispered.

You cupped his face, thumb brushing over the scar just below his eye.

“I know,” you said. “But I’ve got you.”

And he leaned into your hand like a man starved for touch.

Back at the tower, everything was chaos—shouting, agents scrambling to do damage control, the team fighting with each other, trying to put the blame on someone—but none of it touched you. Not when you had him. Not when he never once let go of your hand.

You didn't go to the infirmary. Didn't sit through the debrief. Bucky tried to say something, but you just shook your head. Bob didn't even look at him. At no one.

You led him straight to your room.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, his body sagged like the air had left him entirely. You helped him out of the rest of his suit, piece by piece, your fingers gentle even when your heart still ached from the weight of it all. He did the same for you, so soft, so gentle, like he was afraid to hurt you.

You pulled him into your bed without a word.

He followed like he always did. Like he couldn’t not.

He wrapped around you the way he always did—legs tangled, arms tight around your waist, face buried against your neck. But this time it wasn’t just comfort.

It was clinging.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t ask. Just held on.

You stroked his hair, tracing slow patterns into his scalp, letting your breath match his until he calmed, until that tremble in his shoulders finally stilled.

But he still didn’t sleep.

You felt him shift closer, nose brushing your collarbone. His voice, when it came, was wrecked and so, so quiet.

“Do you think they’ll ever look at me the same?” he asked, voice barely more than a breath.

You didn’t answer right away. You could feel how tightly he was holding his breath, like he was bracing for the worst. You pulled him closer, your fingers threading through the back of his hair, your lips brushing against his forehead.

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered. “They know it. Even if they won’t say it out loud. This—what happened—you didn’t want this. And they know that.”

He didn’t reply, not at first. But you felt it—the way his chest stuttered, how he finally let himself breathe.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, broken.

“I know.”

“I was so close,” he said, voice cracking like glass. “I could feel it. Like I was right there. One more second and I wouldn’t have come back.”

“But you did,” you murmured, pressing your forehead to his. “You came back to me.”

He shuddered, breath hitching again as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Leaving a soft kiss that made your heart clench. “You’re the only one that brings me back,” he whispered. “The only one.”

You didn’t say anything else.

You just held him tighter.

And finally—finally—he started to drift.

It wasn’t peaceful. He twitched. Mumbled things you couldn’t make out. Flinched like his dreams were still trying to drag him under.

But he didn’t wake.

Because you were still there.

And he knew it.

taglist ⊱☆⊰ @notreallythatlost @mandoalorian @urfavfakeblonde @sunday-bug @ruexj283 @mylifeofcalculatedchaos

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geminiwritten · 2 months ago

Text

punishment ; bradley 'rooster' bradshaw

fandom: top gun

pairing: bradley x reader

summary: after performing an impressive but reckless stunt in front of an admiral, you're sent to be babysat by maverick under the cover of a 'tactical training specialist' which means no one can know just how legendary you are... but hangman isn't playing nice and rooster is too nice to ignore

notes: there are no words in any language (real or fictional) for how much i love this man, it's genuinely consuming... but anyway! have some fighter pilot fun! when i reread this, i felt like it didn't hit the way i hoped, but i can't keep rewriting bradley stuff just because i want everything about him to be perfect... so please be kind! and please, please let me know what you think! i actually worked super hard on this (lots of research) and i absolutely love hearing from y'all!

warnings: swearing, italics, hangman is a proper dick, the word 'cannibalism' is used (as a joke), kind of super cheesy, and it gets a bit horny in some places (no actual smut) so 18+ ONLY please!!! (let me know if i missed anything)

disclaimer: there is a lot more navy / pilot wording in this than i usually write. i do not claim that any of it is accurate or correct. i google things and i watch youtube videos, tv shows, and movies. as long as it sounds like it could make sense, i don't care. but please do not assume any of it is absolute fact, and please don't come for me if it's laughably incorrect or unfeasible.

word count: 13863

The bar smells like leather polish and beer. It sounds like a rowdy dive, full of off-duty naval officers and a few old veterans, but it doesn’t look like a dive. It’s clean and full of light, the sun pouring in through the beachside windows and bouncing off every shiny surface it can find.

You tuck yourself onto the furthest stool at the bar, hiding behind a well-placed pillar to quietly sulk and sip your beer. You’re not interested in conversation today. Not after the ass-whooping you took last week, which landed you on this stupid island in the first place.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you pull it out to check the text. It’s from Maverick: “0700 sharp. Don’t be late. Khakis.”

You scoff and stuff it back into the pocket of your leather jacket. Does he really think you’re that dumb? That you’re not going to wear your service khakis on your first day? You’ve got a full day tomorrow of getting chewed out by a whole new slew of admirals. Why would you possibly want to piss them off?

A smirk tugs at your lips, but you quickly hide it behind a sip of beer. Not that it really matters if anyone notices—they’d probably just think you’re a little crazy, smirking to yourself. No one here knows who you are—at least not by looking at you. Except Maverick, of course. Your new babysitter.

Just because you pulled off a high-speed, low-level flyby mere feet from the deck of an aircraft carrier while some snooty admiral and a group of very important people were onboard for a very serious demonstration, you get booted from your squad and strapped with a babysitter.

You didn’t even hit anyone. It was just a very close call. A few people toppled over. But it’s not your fault they didn’t see you coming and brace for jet wash.

It was actually quite an impressive stunt.

But the admiral didn’t see it that way. He sent you to learn from one of the Navy’s most notorious rebels about what happens when you break the rules. You’re still not sure why they stuck you with Maverick. Maybe they’re using the logic of ‘two wrongs make a right.’ Either way, that’s one part of this whole shitshow you’re actually relieved about. Maverick’s not a total stick-up-the-ass.

A voice pulls you out of your spiralling thoughts and back to the bar. “You here alone?”

Your head snaps toward your personal space intruder, bringing you face-to-face with a rather handsome man who is almost definitely too cocky for his own good.

“That your big opener?” you ask, twisting on the stool to face him. “Because it’s giving more serial killer vibes than fuck-me vibes.”

He smirks, unbothered by your prickliness. “Enlighten me, then. What would make you wanna fuck me?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes as you take a deep swig of beer, then glance back at him. “About fifteen more years of age and a nice, salt-and-pepper beard.” You slide off the stool and smack your empty pint glass down on the bar. “Sorry, pal. I’m only into DILFs.”

He rears back, finally unsettled. You flash your prettiest grin and a wink before heading for the doors.

You almost make it out without looking back—almost.

Glancing over your shoulder, you spot the man rejoining his table of friends, all of them giggling like idiots.

All but one.

He’s got honey-brown hair that curls in the most mesmerising way, catching the sunlight like spun gold. His lips are tipped up at the corner beneath a moustache that shouldn’t be as hot as it is. And when you meet his big brown eyes, you can’t help but bite your lip like a shy little schoolgirl.

Now, if that man had approached you, you’d probably be halfway to his bed by now.

You had your khakis dry-cleaned at the seedy little place next to the equally seedy fish and chip shop you found after sulking at the beach for most of Saturday.

The studio apartment you’re leasing for your three months of punishment is in a block right by the sand—another small win in the grand scheme of things. At least you’re not stuck on base.

You thought it was a small fuck you to the system to skip the official base dry cleaners and take your uniform somewhere else.

But it wasn’t worth it.

Now your khakis are super fucking itchy. They look fine, but every inch of fabric touching you—which is a lot—makes you want to peel your skin off.

“What’s wrong?” Maverick asks, frowning as he watches you twist and turn in your front-row seat in the training room.

You sigh, rubbing your back against the chair. “I took my uniform to a dry cleaner near my apartment. Now it’s fucking itchy.”

Any other CO would rip into you for swearing, but Maverick just chuckles. “Serves you right.”

Smug prick.

You take a deep breath and try to settle, ignoring the prickling fabric scraping against your skin.

“Don’t worry,” he says, shuffling through papers at the desk, “you’ll be in a flight suit soon enough.”

Your eyes widen. You jump to your feet and step closer to where he’s hunched over the desk at the front of the room.

“You’re going to let me fly?”

He chuckles. “Of course.”

“But-”

“I cleared it with Admiral Simpson,” he says, flipping a page. “As long as the squad doesn’t know who you really are, and you don’t pull anything totally reckless, you’re cleared to fly.”

For the first time in two weeks, it feels like you’re finally breaking the surface of the water. “Oh my God. Thank you, Mav.”

He straightens up, finally giving you his full attention. “You don’t have to thank me. I trust you. Just don’t prove me wrong. And for the record—” he adds, a teasing glint in his eye, “—I know you’re a damn good pilot. In fact, you remind me of someone.”

The cheeky grin on his lips is completely readable.

You quirk a brow. “You?”

He laughs—low, light, and smug. “How’d you guess?”

You shrug one shoulder, slipping back into your seat. “Because I know Admiral Cain has it out for you. Why else would he saddle you with me if not to punish both of us?”

Maverick sighs, but the grin stays on his face. “You’re not stupid, I’ll give you that. But you’re dangerous. And honestly, I’m not sure Admiral Cain really thought through what happens when you throw two dangerous people together.”

You drop your voice low, just in case anyone else is listening. “Maybe Admiral Cain is the stupid one. Underestimating both of us.”

Maverick tries—and fails—to hide his laughter behind the stack of papers, and you realize that maybe this punishment won’t be quite as punishing as you first thought.

A few minutes later—and after completely shattering all professional boundaries by getting Maverick to scratch a spot on your back you couldn’t reach—the aviators who make up his special detachment start to arrive.

You stay low and still in your seat as they file in, one by one, filling up the rows while Maverick stands grinning at the front of the room. Two aviators across the aisle glance at you curiously, like they almost recognize you. God, you hope not.

“Good morning,” Maverick says, grinning at the room. “Apologies for the late start. I had a meeting with Admiral Simpson this morning because today..." He glances at you and nods for you to stand. “We have someone new joining us.”

You plaster on a polite smile and scan the room—only to freeze when your eyes land on a familiar face. The guy who approached you at the bar last night. The one you all but told to fuck off.

A snort of laughter escapes before you can stop it.

He looks like he’s seen a ghost, his face turning redder by the second. You almost feel bad. Almost.

“This is our new tactical training specialist,” Maverick continues, oblivious. But then he hesitates, glancing down at his paperwork before looking back up and saying your name—your first name, not your last, and definitely not your callsign.

Just like Admiral Simpson ordered. No one can know who you really are.

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but the words get stuck when your gaze drifts a few seats over... and lands on the moustached sex god you locked eyes with across the bar before you left. The one you shamelessly eye-fucked before blushing like a fool, ducking out the door, and mentally writing a very detailed fantasy about that moustache between your legs.

He’s even hotter in a flight suit. Shit.

“Uh, anyway,” Maverick says, clearing his throat, “let’s get on with the briefing so we can fly.”

You sink back into your chair, cheeks burning and heart thudding way too fast against your ribs.

Maverick drawls on about a few mission updates, occasionally throwing in extra context just for you—over-explaining like you hadn’t already gotten the full briefing before being flown in. You’re still too stunned to speak—or correct him—so you just press your lips together and nod along.

An hour later, when you’ve almost completely forgotten about your itchy khakis, Maverick dismisses the group and tells them to meet Hondo in the hangar. He calls on the woman seated across the aisle from you—Phoenix—before she can leave with the others, and asks her to show you to the women’s locker room.

She nods, then turns to you with a small smirk. “It's Natasha, by the way. Feels a little weird calling you by your real name if you don’t know mine.”

You return the smile—genuine this time—and keep your eyes on her instead of following the sex god in a flight suit walking out the door. “Nice to meet you.”

She leads the way out, and you follow, assuming she's heading toward the locker rooms.

“So, you fly?” she asks, nodding at the shiny wings pinned to your chest.

You nod. “Yep.”

“Where were you before this?”

You hesitate, wishing you’d hashed out a backstory with Mav. “Uh… around. It’s… mostly classified.”

She raises an eyebrow, sharp curiosity gleaming in her big brown eyes. “Or you've been ordered not to tell us.”

You snort softly. “Yeah, something like that.”

She guides you down a set of stairs and a short hallway before gesturing toward the women’s locker room. “Just in there. If they’ve assigned you a locker, your flight suit should already be inside.”

“Thanks, Phoenix.”

“Anytime.” She turns to go, but pauses, casting one last curious glance your way before smiling, nodding, and walking off.

You like her. No bullshit.

With a deep breath, you push the door open and step into the locker room. Sure enough, your flight suit is hanging beside a locker with your first name written in Sharpie on a piece of masking tape slapped across the front. It’s strange, seeing that instead of your callsign—but it confirms that Admiral Simpson is serious about keeping your identity buried.

You’d heard your little stunt had made waves, but halfway across the country? If they’re hiding your name out here, then yeah—no wonder you’re in trouble.

Your flight suit doesn’t have your name on it, either. Just a worn Velcro patch that reads ‘INSTRUCTOR’—the kind that looks like it’s been passed around longer than you’ve been in the Navy. Lovely.

You peel off your khakis, relieved to shove the itchy green material into your locker, and slip your legs into your flight suit. You leave the top half hanging loose as you re-lace your boots and check your reflection in the mirror before heading out of the locker room.

You turn down the hall without a second glance, awkwardly trying to shove your arms into your suit—only to carelessly bump into someone coming from the opposite direction.

“Shit, sorry, I-” You choke on your words when you look up at the prettiest damn smirk you’ve ever seen.

“You’re good,” he says—the moustached sex god. “Need a hand?”

Normally, no. But right now, your traitorous body is practically catatonic, pretending it’s forgotten how to function just so the sexy man will help you into your flight suit. You’re supposed to be a tactical training specialist, not an inept fool who can’t dress herself.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” you say, ignoring the screaming voice of feminism in your head. “I don’t know how I got so twisted up.”

He chuckles—deep and warm, like smoke curling around you, pulling you closer.

“I’m Bradley, by the way,” he says as he steps behind you. “Or Rooster.”

Your brain completely short-circuits. You don't even think to respond as his fingertips brush your bare arms, sliding the suit up over your shoulders. Even through your thin t-shirt, the heat of his touch sends a riot of butterflies through your stomach.

“Thanks.” You turn to face him, digging deep for the confidence that usually fools people into thinking you’re calm and collected. “I might need your number… in case I need a little help undressing later.”

His face breaks into the most breathtaking grin you’ve ever seen. His cheeks flush pink, his Adam’s apple bobs with a soft chuckle, and when his brown eyes meet yours again, they sparkle so brightly you forget how to breathe.

“Before I say yes, I need to know… do you usually ask your trainees to help you undress, or am I just special?”

You laugh softly, your confidence flickering, and start down the hall—walking backward so you can still face him. “Right, because I’m technically an instructor.” You tap the Velcro patch on your chest. “And that would be highly inappropriate.”

Bradley stands with his hands clasped behind his back, a look of amusement tugging at his mouth. “Highly.”

“Good thing I’m not exactly known for my propriety.” You flash him your cheekiest smile, then spin around and quicken your pace down the hall.

You make your way to the hangar—a little breathless from your run-in with the hottest man you’ve ever met—only to be intercepted by Maverick before you can reach the rest of the team.

“Nothing fancy today, alright?”

He hands you a dark green, slightly scuffed helmet.

You frown at it. “But my helmet-”

“Has your callsign on it.”

He gives you a pointed look—a silent warning wrapped in patience—before shifting his attention to the squad.

You roll your eyes as he walks off, then inspect the helmet in your hands, cringing at the cracked lining inside. At least it smells clean.

After he picks the pilots flying the first drill, everyone heads to their jets. Your fingers twitch with anticipation as you climb into the cockpit, stomach flipping with that familiar mix of nerves and adrenaline. It’s only been a couple of weeks, but it feels like a lifetime.

Once you're in the air, you follow Maverick’s orders to hang back, constantly reminding yourself that one more slip-up could ground you for good.

First up: Hangman, Payback, and Fanboy. They’re good, but Hangman is cocky—and there’s a difference between cocky and confident. You’re confident. You know you’re good. And it’s borderline painful to fly like a rookie while he runs his mouth over the comms.

“Hey Mav,” Hangman says, his voice crackling in your ear. “I’m curious—why do we need a tactical training specialist?”

“Because you’re not good enough, Hangman. You need to be better,” Maverick replies coolly.

“With all due respect, sir”—you can practically hear his smirk—“what are we supposed to learn from someone who flies like my grandma drives her Honda Civic?”

There’s muffled laughter from Payback and Fanboy.

“Maybe that’s her callsign,” Payback says. “Honda Civic.”

“I was thinking Grandma,” Fanboy adds.

More laughter—like they’re the funniest assholes in the sky.

For a fleeting moment, you consider soaring up in front of them in an admittedly reckless inverted climb just to scare the smug off their faces. But you grit your teeth and bank slowly through a patch of low, cottony clouds instead.

“Cut the chatter,” Maverick says, voice sharper now. “Or I won’t go easy on you.”

You almost wish he’d let you off the leash. Let you show them exactly why you’re here. But he’s right. As excruciating as it is to fly like a grandma driving a Honda Civic... this is what you have to do right now.

By the end of the day, you're bored out of your brain. You've heard so much trash talk from the pilots that you're not only feeling more defeated than after your reaming from Admiral Cain, but you're seriously considering punching one of them square in the face.

You know it's just banter. They're not really trying to upset you—test you, maybe. Haze you. But it still grates, especially when they keep jabbing at your flying—the one thing you’re damn proud of.

It sucks hiding your superpower. Is this how Clark Kent feels at the Daily Planet?

When it’s finally time to hit the showers before Maverick’s afternoon briefing, you’re relieved. You drag your feet down the hall ahead of the others, not in the mood for post-flight chatter. You slip into the locker room, peel off your flight suit and underlayers, and step into the nearest stall.

The water warms almost instantly, and you sigh in quiet appreciation. You’re just starting to relax when—

“Get your shit outta my way, Fanboy.”

You flinch at the voice—Hangman’s—closer than it should be while you're stark naked and dripping wet. Then you glance up and spot a vent high on the wall. It must connect to the men’s locker room.

“You have a locker. Use it,” Hangman snaps again.

You roll your eyes and duck back under the stream, letting the hot water drown him out. Or trying to.

“So, what do we think the deal is with our new tactical training specialist?” one of them—Coyote, you think—asks.

Hangman scoffs. “She’s no specialist. I’d be surprised if she’s even a fully trained aviator.”

“She didn’t seem like she had any trouble flying,” Bob says, voice soft but clear. “She just seemed like she was hanging back. Laying low.”

“Yeah,” Bradley adds—and your stomach does a little somersault. “Maybe she’s a total gun and just waiting to embarrass us all.”

You smirk. He’s not wrong. If they ever take the leash off, you definitely plan to humiliate them.

“I doubt it,” Hangman grunts.

“She’s probably just here to babysit Maverick,” Fanboy says. “We all know Cyclone doesn’t trust him.”

You snort quietly.

“You’re not wrong,” Payback chimes in.

“Probably some admiral’s daughter, too,” Coyote jokes.

Hangman laughs—smug and overconfident. “I don’t care who she is. One way or another, I’m gonna find out why she’s really here.”

The rest of the week passes in much the same way. You fly like a rookie, listen to Jake—yes, you’ve learned all their real names now—run his mouth like the class clown he insists on being, and endure Maverick assigning you to lead post-flight reviews breaking down the squad’s tactical performance.

Your nights are spent reading, studying, absorbing everything you can about the thing you’re supposedly a specialist in. You already know your stuff—you like to think you’re pretty sharp tactically—but now that Jake is gunning for you, your cover needs to be airtight.

The rest of the squad has been decent, if a little wary—not that you blame them. And then there’s Bradley.

Bradley is nice to you. Like, really nice. Almost suspiciously nice, despite Jake’s constant digs. You catch him looking your way more often than not—though, to be fair, you’re not exactly subtle about your own ogling. He backs you up when Jake crosses the line, and so does Natasha—which only confirms why you liked her from the start.

But Bradley? Bradley is a problem. The man is a walking, talking hazard to your mental, emotional, and physical well-being. Just hearing his voice over the comms is enough to make your heart skip.

And the worst part? You have absolutely no idea how to act around him. Cool confidence is second nature when you don’t care what anyone thinks—but with him, you’re suddenly a fumbling schoolgirl with a colossal, deeply inconvenient crush. He’s kind. He’s hot. He’s got that easy swagger of a guy who knows he’s good—and he’s right. It’s not too much; it’s the perfect, dangerously attractive amount of confidence.

Honestly? He might be the most punishing part of your punishment.

You spend most of the weekend trying—and failing—not to think about what it would feel like to have that stupid moustache between your legs. Or worse: on the pillow beside yours, with his arms wrapped around you while you sleep. Just sleep.

Dating seriously in the Navy—or any branch of the military, really—is notoriously difficult. You’ve made peace with casual, mediocre—often infrequent—sex. You’ve learned to ignore the craving for real connection, to smother it under adrenaline and the thrill of flying. But when you look at Bradley—stupid, hot, kind Bradley—you wonder what it would feel like to love him. And to be loved by him.

Ugh. Gross.

“You alright?” Maverick asks, brows pinched as he holds out a stack of paperwork.

You blink, realizing you’ve been zoned out. You’re not sure how long he’s been standing there.

“Yeah, sorry. Mondayitis,” you mumble, shaking your head and reaching for the stack.

He rolls his eyes and glances toward the spot you’d just been staring at—where Bradley is talking to a maintenance tech beside his jet.

“Yeah,” Mav chuckles. “Sure.”

You snatch the paperwork with a little more attitude than necessary, but at this point, you’re comfortable enough with Maverick to get away with it. He knows the difference between you being genuinely annoyed—usually whenever Jake is within twenty feet—and just being a smartass.

“You sure you’re good to stay back tonight?” he asks after a beat. “It’s just a routine FOD sweep, but the techs like having someone around who understands the tactical systems, just in case.”

“It’s fine,” you say, hugging the paperwork to your chest. “I’ve got nothing better to do. Honestly, I’ll take any excuse to speak to humans outside the hours of nine to five.”

Maverick chuckles, but then tilts his head, studying you. “You’re really not doing anything else? You don’t even go out? Or, I don’t know… do Tinder?”

You raise a brow at him, trying not to laugh. “No, Mav. I don’t do Tinder.”

“Oh.” He nods like that’s good news, but then frowns. “Still, you should go out sometime. Grab a drink, meet someone. This is a Navy town—there’s plenty of-”

“Are you seriously giving me advice on getting laid?” you interrupt, eyes wide with disbelief.

A faint pink tints his cheeks, but he doesn’t backpedal. “Not explicitly. But I just don’t see the point in making this punishment even more miserable by ignoring the outside world.”

“Punishment?”

You both freeze. Bob is suddenly beside you, looking wide-eyed and flushed—like he knows he shouldn’t have overheard but absolutely couldn’t help himself.

You turn to him, panicked. “He—uh, what Mav means is-”

“Bob!” Natasha’s voice cuts across the hangar. “Move it or you’re walking to The Hard Deck!”

He gives a polite nod and bolts before either of you can say more.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath.

Maverick waves it off. “It’s fine. Bob’s a vault. Even if he does say something, we’ll spin it.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m starting to think you’re the one trying to blow my cover, not Hangman.”

He laughs, unbothered. “You need to relax. Seriously—go out with the others tonight. Let off some steam. Maybe meet someone.”

You groan, stepping back. “Are we back to this already? I can’t go out tonight—I’m stuck here babysitting the FOD inspections so you can go on a date and get laid.”

That earns you a devilish grin. “You could still go out after.”

“It’ll be too late.”

“Alright then.” He flashes that troublemaking smile, then strolls off toward Bradley.

You can’t hear what they’re saying, but you see it. The mischief in Maverick’s eyes, the subtle glance Bradley throws your way, the small nod.

“Rooster’s staying back with you,” Mav says when he returns. “He’s going to help start inventorying the night gear before next week’s night ops. Keep you company.” Then he winks. “You’re welcome.”

Your cheeks flame instantly. You can feel the blush rising from your chest to the tips of your ears, especially as Bradley sends you one of those slow, devastating smirks from across the hangar.

You never imagined this would be your biggest problem, but here you are—drowning in paperwork and feelings, stuck with one ridiculously hot pilot… all because your CO thinks he’s Cupid.

You do your best to avoid Bradley at first—and it mostly works. He waves off his friends, all of whom are more than a little annoyed he’s skipping the bar, but for some reason, he doesn’t seem to mind. You find a relatively clear table toward the back of the hangar to spread out your paperwork and start sorting through what needs signing for tonight’s special inspections.

One of the technicians wanders over and spends twenty straight minutes mansplaining the FOD sweep and borescope process. Normally, you'd bite a guy’s head off for talking to you like you're five, but this time, you let him ramble. Anything to keep a buffer between you and Bradley.

The night wears on, and the techs move through their routines with smooth, practiced efficiency. You answer questions when needed, sign off on paperwork, and try not to keep checking to see where he is. After a couple of hours, you find yourself staring blankly at your neatly reorganized stack of documents—for the fourth time.

“You alright?” Bradley’s voice cuts in, low and warm. He stops a few feet away, arms full of night vision goggles.

You snap upright and nod. “Yep. Just a little bored. Need help?” The words tumble out before you can stop them, and your stomach does a full aerial twist when he smiles.

“Yeah, actually. There’s more NVGs to go through, and I need to check we’ve got enough night-adapted flight helmets.”

You nod again and follow him to the gear closet. It isn’t small, but it’s tightly packed with equipment that smells like age and dust. The doorknob is mottled with rust, and the door itself is being propped open by a bent prybar wedged underneath.

“Wow,” you mutter. “Luxury storage.”

Bradley chuckles, low and easy. “Yeah, not exactly state of the art. But Mav avoids complaining—less time in the admiral’s office.”

You laugh softly, running a finger along a dusty shelf. “Can’t argue with that.”

He casts a glance your way, curious but unreadable, as he stacks the goggles beside you. Then he points to the shelf of helmets and tells you to grab what you can and bring them over to where he’s been cleaning and inspecting gear.

It takes a few trips, but eventually you’ve got all the helmets laid out across the hangar floor while Bradley goes down the checklist on his clipboard. You drop into a cross-legged seat beside the gear, inspecting each helmet one by one—checking the straps, the fixings, the visor, making sure there are no cracks or faults.

Bradley settles across from you, reaching for a helmet of his own. “So,” he says, casual and curious, “do you already have a callsign, or are we still workshopping?”

You glance up through your lashes, a smirk tugging at your mouth. “Classified.”

He arches a brow. “That’s not a no. Should I be worried it’s something like Deathwish? Or Heartbreaker?”

A quiet laugh escapes you as you trade one helmet for the next. “What if it’s closer to the second one?”

He nods slowly, a smirk tugging beneath that damn moustache. “Then I’ll adjust my expectations.”

“That’s your first mistake,” you say lightly. “Having expectations.”

His gaze lingers a little longer this time, thoughtful. Like he’s trying to solve a puzzle without all the pieces. You’re not trying to be cryptic—it’s just that words get sticky around him. Being guarded feels easier than being obvious. You’re not that complicated, really… but for some reason, with Bradley, keeping your walls up feels safer.

And maybe, if he’s curious enough, he’ll keep pushing. You kind of hope he does.

More hours pass, and you fall into a comfortable rhythm. When needed, the techs call you over to check something or sign something off, then you return to Bradley with a sarcastic remark or a curious question. He doesn’t pry too much about why you’re here, but he asks simple things—where you grew up, what your favourite colour is, if you have any pets. The conversation stays light and easy, and you find yourself looking forward to hearing his voice again after every question you answer.

“Alright, we’re just about finished up,” one of the technicians—Randall— says as he ambles over.

You’re crouched on the floor with a few open night ops survival kits in front of you, checking for chem lights, strobes, and IR beacons.

“Oh, that’s great,” you say, brushing your hands off on your pants as you stand. “Thanks.”

He nods. “Security did a walk-through ten minutes back. I told ’em you two were in here, and they said they’d circle back unless you’re planning to leave with the rest of us.”

You glance at Bradley, silently letting him decide—though you’re secretly hoping he chooses to stay.

“We’ll be here a little longer,” he says, his eyes flicking to you. “I think.”

You nod, and his cheekbones flush pink as a small smile tugs at his lips.

Randall glances up, motioning vaguely at the walls. “Cameras there,” he says, pointing, “there, and there. Dead spots are that corner… or the gear closet. Y’know—if you don’t want to get caught.”

Your eyes widen and heat floods your face.

Bradley lets out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Right. Thanks, Randall. I don’t even want to ask how you know that, but… good to know.”

The older man grins and lumbers off, whistling.

The second he’s out of earshot, you groan into your hands. “What is with old men today?”

Bradley raises a brow. “Don’t tell me one of the other techs gave you a hookup tutorial.”

“Nope,” you sigh, dropping your hands. “Mav. I think he was trying to give me dating advice. Told me I should ‘get out there’ more.”

Bradley snorts. “Was it any good?”

“Well,” you say, “he’s glad I’m not on Tinder—wants me to meet someone the authentically. But then he was annoyed I’m not going to the bar tonight. Never mind the fact he’s the reason I’m stuck with overtime.”

Bradley opens his mouth, pauses, then squints at you. “Wait… was this right before he came and told me to start inventorying night gear?”

“Yup,” you reply, popping the p and being careful not to look at him.

“Right,” Bradley chuckles. “Maybe we should change Mav’s callsign to Cupid.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the blush blooming in your cheeks. “Or Stupid.”

You quietly keep packing up the survival kits and carrying them back to the gear closet. A few of the techs call out their goodbyes as they leave, but most don’t. And then—it’s quiet. Too quiet.

You’re not sure if the tension comes from being suddenly alone—or from the fact that Bradley now knows why Maverick asked him to stay. Would he have bailed if he’d known sooner?

He didn’t look horrified. Didn’t flinch or recoil. Just made a joke.

But what the hell is that supposed to mean?

“We can finish up soon, if you want,” you offer, even though you don’t want to.

But now you’re overthinking everything. What if he doesn’t want to be here? What if he thinks you expect something to happen—like you’re in on whatever matchmaking crap Mav is trying to pull?

“Oh,” he says, following you into the gear closet. “I mean, it’s up to you.”

There’s a beat of silence while you both stack kits onto the shelf.

“I mean, if you’re trying to make it to the bar,” he adds, his laugh a little forced.

You shoot him a flat look. “Yeah, right. With all my friends.”

He shrugs, but it looks stiff. “Maybe you’ve decided to take Mav’s advice. Meet a guy or whatever.”

You lead the way out of the closet, your brows furrowed as you try to decode his words.

Is he encouraging you to go? Telling you not to?

Why is this suddenly complicated? Why are you even thinking about any of this when you’re only here as punishment? You shouldn’t be worrying about boys and feelings.

You shake your head and decide to ignore it, scooping up more survival kits to return to the gear closet. Bradley is right behind you, carrying the last of them.

You’ve just reached the shelf and freed your arms when there’s a bang and a sharp screech.

“Shit,” Bradley mutters, stumbling forward.

He catches himself before dropping anything—but then a loud slam echoes through the space, and both of your heads snap toward the door.

“No,” you mutter, rushing from the shelf to the door. “No, no, no. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The rusted doorknob starts to crack in your grip. It doesn’t twist or even budge—just crumbles like sugar in hot water.

“Wait,” Bradley says, dumping the kits on the shelf. “Are we actually trapped?”

“No,” you bite out, twisting the handle again. It snaps, and a piece of rusted metal—fantastic—sticks into your palm. “Fuck. Shit.” You whirl around, clutching your hand. “Okay, maybe.”

Bradley doesn’t panic. He chuckles. It’s light, casual—and laced with something else. Satisfaction, maybe?

“You okay?” he asks, stepping closer.

You instinctively offer your hand. The cut isn’t deep, but there’s a decent smear of red pooling in your palm.

“Lucky we just restocked the survival kits,” he says with a wink.

You want to roll your eyes—but instead, you smile like an idiot. He’s so close you can feel the warmth radiating off him, seeping into your skin like a slow burn—and then his hand wraps gently around yours, sending a surge of electricity crackling up your arm and straight to your chest.

“This is just my luck,” you mutter.

He raises an eyebrow. “Technically, I’m the one who tripped on the prybar, so I think it’s my luck.”

“Yeah, but I’m known to be a bit of a…” You trail off, clearing your throat, scrambling to find a word other than the one on the tip of your tongue.

His head tips, eyes narrowing. “A what?”

“Walking disaster,” you say quickly.

That earns another chuckle as he turns to the shelf of survival kits. “I wouldn’t call this a disaster.”

You scoff. “Really? We’re stuck in a dusty gear closet at ten o’clock at night, the techs just bailed, our phones are in our lockers, and security probably won’t even realise we’re in here.”

Still facing away, he rummages through one of the kits. “I’m trapped in a closet with a pretty girl,” he says. “Not exactly a disaster in my books.”

You press your lips together, trying to smother the grin threatening to break loose—but then he turns around, wearing the kind of smirk that should come with a warning label. It’s cocky and knowing, like he’s fully aware of the effect he’s having on you—and worse, he’s enjoying it. Heat flares beneath your skin, and suddenly the gear closet feels about ten degrees hotter.

“See?” he says, offering his hand for yours again. “Can’t argue with logic.”

You let him clean and bandage the cut on your hand, silence stretching thick between you. The warmth radiating off his body fogs your brain, making it nearly impossible to focus on escape routes from this stupid closet. His hands are slightly calloused—evidence of years gripping the F/A-18’s control stick the way you’re now imagining gripping something else entirely.

Fuck. This man might actually be the death of you.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asks, voice low, breath brushing your cheek as he stands so damn close. “You’re not claustrophobic or anything, right?”

You shake your head, subtle and slow, your gaze locked on his lips, your voice nowhere to be found.

“Good,” he says. “Because we’re probably stuck in here all night. No windows, no vents, and there’s no way we’re getting any of these radios on the same frequency as the tower. That door’s older and more stubborn than Mav—it was built to keep people out, which means it’ll do just fine keeping us in.”

You sigh, eyes drifting down to your bandaged hand. “Great.”

He quietly packs the kit away, head bowed over the shelf as he works, giving you a moment to just look. His long legs are braced slightly wider than his shoulders, making him seem even more solid, more commanding. He all but consumes the small closet space, his honey-brown hair dangerously close to grazing the low ceiling. His fingers move deftly, expertly, and you can’t help but wonder what else they’d be good at.

“You’re staring,” he says suddenly.

Your cheeks warm. “I’m calculating.”

He gives you a sideways glance and that crooked smile—the one that makes your heart miss a beat. “Calculating what?”

“What chance I have of overpowering you if the situation becomes dire.”

He chuckles, but it’s lower this time. Rougher. A little dangerous. “Define ‘dire’.”

You shrug and turn your back to the shelves, sliding down to the floor. “You know. Cannibalism.”

You lean against the bottom shelf, packed tight with gear boxes—solid enough to act as a makeshift backrest while you stretch your legs out in front of you.

“Cannibalism,” Bradley echoes, settling beside you. “Right. So, is it straight to eating each other, or are there warning signs I should look out for?”

His arm brushes yours as he shifts, the heat of his body seeping through your flight suit. And the way he said eating each other? Yeah—that’s not helping.

“Well,” you say, clearing your throat to redirect your filthy thoughts. “First comes shock and denial.” You lift your bandaged hand. “But I think I’m past that.”

He nods, eyes on you, like he’s genuinely interested—or just waiting for your next move.

“Then anxiety and panic,” you continue, a smile tugging at your lips. “You might start crying, beating your fists on the door…”

He snorts, and you catch him glancing at your mouth.

“Then comes anger and frustration,” you say, letting your voice drop just a little. “We’ll start blaming each other. Arguing. And then…” You trail off, licking your lips, gaze moving slowly down his body with exaggerated interest. “Desperation.”

“What happens then?” he asks, his voice soft, deep—almost reverent. Like you’re telling him a secret he already knows.

You glance at his hands, clasped tight in his lap. His long fingers tangled with tension, as if he’s holding himself still.

“We’ll probably give in to all the tension,” you murmur.

There’s a pause—so brief it’s barely a breath—before he asks, “What does that mean?”

You finally meet his gaze, smirking like you already have him cornered. “You know exactly what I mean, Bradshaw.”

The tension snaps when he laughs softly, his cheekbones tinged pink as he looks away.

“Well then,” he says, “if we’re going to be stuck in here until we both go mad, don’t you think I deserve to know who you really are?”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Not a bad try. Still classified.”

He tips his head back against the shelf, and your eyes catch on the long column of his throat as he speaks. “Oh, come on. You think I’m going to tell anyone?”

“No, not really,” you murmur, gaze still fixed on the warm tan skin of his neck.

You feel like a starved vampire, fixated on his jugular with something close to bloodlust. But really, you just want to sink your teeth in��hard enough to leave a mark. Claim him.

God. Since when has a man made you feel this feral?

Then he tips his head down again and pins you with those big brown eyes. “So why won’t you tell me?”

You meet his gaze. “I think you already know more about me than most people do. Is it really that bad not knowing my last name or callsign? Ask me anything else.”

His smile turns boyish, softening him, making him look younger than he is. “So you admit you have a callsign?”

You nod. “Yep.”

“When’d you get it?”

“Flight school.”

“Is there a cool story behind it?”

You wobble your head as if weighing the answer. “Sort of. It’s not really a story—it’s more of a personality trait.”

He nods slowly. “So I might be able to figure it out?”

You shake your head. “Probably not. Not with the way Mav has me flying.” You don’t entirely mean to throw him a bone—some sliver of the truth behind why you’re really here—but it slips out anyway.

His eyes narrow. “So you are holding back,” he says. It’s not a question.

You don’t answer. Instead, you draw your bottom lip between your teeth and bite down—hard. His gaze flicks to your mouth, and lingers there, watching you. Something in his eyes darkens, and you can see the flush crawl up his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

“Okay, my turn,” you say, angling your body toward him. “This whole ‘prince charming’ thing. The cheeky smiles, the perfectly tousled hair—does it always work for you?”

He frowns, but the twitch at the corner of his lips betrays the amusement threatening to break across his face. “What do you mean, ‘does it work’?”

You shrug, trying—and failing—to seem nonchalant. The green-eyed monster in your chest rearing its ugly head. “I’ve seen you walking around like you own the place. Don’t tell me you haven’t left a trail of broken hearts across the country. I mean, I see the way you are with Phoenix, all the-”

“Phoenix?” he interrupts, his eyes growing wide. “Phoenix and I are friends. Period. I’m actually pretty sure she’s hooking up with Bob, but she’s too scared to tell the rest of us because we’ll ruin it. Which, fair enough. Hangman can be a bit of a bitch.”

“Oh, I know,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him. “But don’t change the subject. You seriously don’t expect me to believe there aren’t a hundred women trying to beat down your door every Friday and Saturday night?”

He rolls his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips. “There might be one or two broken hearts in my past, but I can promise you, no one is beating down my door. And the ‘prince charming’ act...” He leans in just a little, his voice lowering. “That’s just for you.”

This man is actually trying to kill you.

You roll your eyes and feign indifference. “Smooth.”

He raises his brows, that smirk still firmly in place. “You think?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing, Bradshaw.”

He chuckles, leaning back and resting his head against the shelf again. “Well, yeah. I know what I’m doing. But I can’t tell if it’s working or not.”

You fight a smile, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “Yeah,” you mutter, “it’s working.”

The next hour passes with random questions exchanged, both of you settling into an easy rhythm. He’s careful not to pry too much, slipping in the occasional question about your past or why you're really here. You answer with playful eye rolls and a quick “that’s classified,” but despite the walls you try to keep up, you find yourself telling him more than you expected. His presence is warm and easy, and there’s something about the way his eyes study you—genuine curiosity mixed with a hint of hunger—that makes you open up in ways you didn’t expect.

Then, after a beat of silence, he asks, “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

It’s a stark contrast to the casual questions you’ve been tossing back and forth. Your brows pinch, and you tip your head, a wave of exhaustion making your posture sag. You open your mouth to reply, but he jumps in again, voice laced with sudden panic. “Wait, you don’t have some secret boyfriend... right?”

A soft laugh escapes your lips. “No, I don’t.”

His shoulders visibly relax, his eyes blinking slowly, tiredly. “Why not? Aside from the stock standard military excuse.”

You rest your head against the shelf, staring up at the paint flaking off the ceiling. “I like to blame the navy, but I think it’s mostly my fault. I can be... picky. I guess my standards are higher than they have a right to be. The last actual boyfriend I had... sucked. Monumentally.” You pause, biting your lip. “He scarred me. Haven’t really wanted to date seriously since.”

There’s a flash of something unfamiliar across Bradley’s face—an emotion that’s gone before you can catch it, replaced quickly by curiosity. “Why did he suck?”

You snort softly, remembering your last relationship with a sick feeling in your stomach. “Do you want the PG version or the real one?”

His gaze hardens, anger flashing behind his eyes, though he masks it quickly. “The real one.”

“Okay,” you say, steeling yourself for the uncomfortable memories. “Well, aside from just being a piece of shit...” You pause, taking a deep breath. “After almost two years together, he—uh, he had a hard time finishing... with me. Told me it was because he was bored, too used to me. Said I wasn’t good enough to, you know... get him there.”

The silence that follows is suffocating, thick enough to make you choke. Your chest aches, but you can’t find the strength to breathe. Bradley’s expression has turned murderous. His eyes darken, his brows drawn tight, lips pressed into a thin line. His cheeks are flushed, redder than before, and the colour crawls down his neck and disappears beneath his flight suit collar.

“He told you that?” he asks, his voice rough, low, cutting through the silence like a blade.

You nod, a bitter laugh escaping as you remember the moment. “Yep. Right in the middle of it.”

His eyes narrow, and the anger in his gaze intensifies. “He said that to you while you were having sex?”

You nod again, your lips pressed tight, bracing for whatever might come next. Bradley looks like he’s ready to explode, like a bull in a chute, and though it’s scary, it’s also... unsettlingly hot.

“I broke up with him the next day,” you say softly.

“Good,” Bradley growls, his voice tight.

Silence settles between you again, but this time it’s softer—less charged, more intimate. You can breathe. And now that the adrenaline has faded, so has your energy. Your eyelids are heavy, your shoulders ache, but the hard clips of the gear boxes digging into your back are making it impossible to get comfortable.

You shift upright with a quiet sigh, glancing around the cramped space for anything soft to lie on. But the only thing that looks remotely inviting is Bradley’s lap.

He has his head tipped back, lids half-lowered, but there’s no missing the way he catches your gaze. A slow, knowing smile curves his lips—lazy and warm.

“You can lie down,” he murmurs, voice husky and low, dragging heat across your skin.

“You sure?” you ask, even though you’re already moving.

He adjusts his posture, leaning back against the shelves to make room. The slight shift in his stance feels oddly like an invitation, like he’s preparing for you. Your heart pounds as you reposition yourself, curling toward him and easing your head gently into his lap.

It feels too intimate for what it is—but he doesn’t stop you. If anything, his body goes still, and then he exhales through his nose like he’s trying to ground himself.

The heat of him is immediate, seeping into your skin. Without thinking, you press your freezing hands to his thighs with a groan of relief.

Bradley stiffens. “Shit. Uh... careful where you put those.”

You glance up. His mouth is parted slightly, breath coming and going faster now. That faint pink flush has darkened, stretching across the bridge of his nose. His eyes—wide, dark, hungry—meet yours.

“Oops,” you murmur, lips twitching. “Sorry.” Though you’re absolutely not.

You try to focus on relaxing, but the feel of him beneath you is intoxicating. Your exhaustion is at war with the slow burn licking through your blood. You close your eyes anyway, willing your body to settle.

Eventually, his breathing evens out again—and so does yours. You curl in tighter, tucking your knees up, and nestle into him a little more. His breath catches, barely audible, but telling. Then, after a beat, his hand rests lightly on your hip. Just that. But it sends a rush of heat spiralling through you.

His other hand shifts near your face, and, emboldened, you ease one of your own free and find his. Your fingers slide into place between his, lacing together like it’s instinct.

The spark that jolts up your arm is instant—sharp, electric, undeniable.

Yeah. This man is a hazard. To your health, to your career… And definitely to your cover.

You’re not woken by your alarm or the sound of your neighbour—who also happens to be navy—slamming his door on his way out. You’re woken by something solid pressing into the back of your head. Something warm. Something insistent. Almost like…

Holy shit.

You sit up like a shot, as if a gun’s gone off, your body protesting the movement after a night on the floor. But the aches barely register. Not when you’re suddenly very aware of the very impressive bulge currently tenting Bradley’s flight suit.

You press your lips together, partly to hold back your laugh—and partly to keep yourself from doing something absolutely unholy. Like burying your face in his lap. Mouthing him through the thick material. Slowly unzipping that khaki jumpsuit and devouring him until he forgets how to breathe.

God. You’ve never woken up so horny in your life.

You briefly consider nuzzling back into him, soaking up every drop of that delicious warmth—until you hear voices outside. And then you see it: a sliver of daylight spilling beneath the door.

You scramble to your feet and tiptoe to the door, pressing your ear against it. You should be thrilled you’re getting out of this dusty closet, but disappointment prickles under your skin. You’re not going to sleep with Bradley tonight—not in any sense of the word. Which is stupid. Completely insane. You’d rather spend another night on a hard floor with him than go home to your own bed.

You shake your head and focus on the voices. You don’t recognize any of them. Tech crew, most likely—starting early.

You lean over Bradley, gently scratching the crown of his head. “Hey,” you whisper, keeping your voice low just in case.

His eyes flutter, then snap open—briefly panicked before he remembers where he is. He looks up at you with a sleepy smile, soft and hazy. “Hey. How’d you sleep?”

You laugh quietly. “Surprisingly well. Until I was woken up by your little lieutenant—well, actually, not-so-little, but anyway…” You trail off, heat creeping into your cheeks. “I’m going to shut up now.”

His brows knit in sleepy confusion… until understanding hits. He glances down—and immediately covers his lap with both hands. “Shit. Sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t apologize. I’d offer to help you out, but I think we should probably get out of here before the others show up.”

His mouth opens, his gaze snapping to yours—hopeful and tortured all at once. Clearly debating whether it would be worth the risk.

He sighs, defeated, and pushes to his feet. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

You both move to the door, listening for familiar voices.

After a moment, Bradley murmurs, “I think we’re in the clear. Sounds like it’s just techies.”

You nod. “Alright, do we start yelling for help now?”

He glances down at himself and makes a face. “Can I get a minute first?”

You snort softly, biting your bottom lip to contain your grin. But you can’t stop the way your eyes drift down, or the warmth that floods your chest. Whether it’s the lap-nap or the fact you’ve gone completely stupid for this man, you’ve never wanted to drop to your knees more in your life.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mutters, brows drawn as he focuses on anything that isn’t you. “You’re not helping.”

“Sorry,” you giggle, turning fully toward the door. “I’ll just wait here.”

He chuckles, low and rough, his voice coated in sleep and something far thicker—undeniable desire. He paces the tiny length of the closet like a caged tiger, careful not to look at you.

A few minutes later, he returns to your side and nods. “Okay. Ready now.”

You smirk and nod, resisting the very strong urge to glance down. Then you both turn toward the door and start knocking.

“Hello!” you shout, mouth close to the seam. “Help! Please!”

There’s the sound of footsteps, muffled voices. Then a rough voice answers, “Hello? Someone in there?”

“Yes!” you call back. “The doorknob’s broken—we can’t get out.”

There’s a jiggle of what’s left of the knob on your side, but it doesn’t move.

“S’not budgin’,” the man says. “Stand back, alrigh’?”

“Okay,” you say just as Bradley grabs your arm and pulls you to the back corner of the closet.

He cages you with his body, chest pressed to yours, shielding you like a human wall. You can feel the heat of him everywhere—his breath ghosting over your cheek, his thigh brushing yours, your mouth so close to his. One glance up and you know you’d be kissing. You want to. God, do you want to. But now isn’t the time.

A bang. Then another. The door rattles, the hinges groaning. One final crash sends the door flying inward, half-torn from its frame.

Bradley doesn’t move at first. Then he exhales and shifts away slightly—just enough to look—but his hand remains on your wrist, protective.

“You alrigh’?” the voice asks, silhouetted in the sudden glare of morning light.

You squint, the brightness stabbing at your eyes.

“Yeah,” you mutter. “We’re fine.”

You both blink as your vision adjusts and step toward the opening.

“Exactly how long have you two been in there?” comes a second voice. One you know far too well.

Maverick.

Your stomach drops.

As your vision clears, the scene before you sharpens into a full-blown nightmare. Maverick, arms crossed, wearing the most smug, slap-worthy smirk imaginable. Behind him: Natasha, wide-eyed, biting her lip to keep from laughing; Bob, cheeks glowing red; Reuben and Mickey, snickering like they’re in middle school; and—of course—Jake, grinning like he’s just won the damn lottery.

You're never living this down.

Before you can even begin to defend yourself, Jake lets out a low whistle. “Damn, Rooster. Didn’t know we were doing supply closet survival drills.”

Bradley sighs. “It was locked, Hangman.”

“Oh, I believe you,” Jake says, his grin wide. “But the rest of the hangar? Not so much.”

Maverick raises a brow, smirk firmly in place. “Glad to see you both survived the night. Though next time, maybe just request a room.”

You shoot him your sharpest glare—just shy of throwing a knife right at your CO. “That door needs to be fixed. You’re lucky I was stuck in there with Bradshaw and not one of these other idiots, or you’d have a dead body to deal with.”

Your glare swings to Jake, cutting him off before he can open his mouth again.

Maverick starts to reply but pauses, eyes flicking down to your bandaged hand. “Do you need to go to medical?”

You shake your head. “No. But I could really use a shower.”

He nods, then turns his attention to Bradley. “You need the day off?”

“No,” Bradley says. “We slept.”

Jake chuckles, wicked and bright. “That’s not what the security tapes say.”

Your heart stutters. “Th-There’s no camera in there. Randall said-”

“Randall told you about the camera blind spots?” Maverick cuts in, clearly amused.

The group bursts into laughter, and even Bradley’s mouth twitches into a smirk.

Jake winks. “Relax, I was kidding, sweetheart. But hey, good to know Rooster kept you safe. Always knew he was the gentleman type.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms, a physical barrier against the swarm of smug faces. “Unlike you, Hangman, Rooster is a gentleman.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Maverick says, waving a hand to dismiss the squad. “You lot suit up. And you two—hit the showers.” He starts to walk off, then glances over his shoulder with a teasing grin. “Separately.”

Your cheeks go up in flames, but there’s no clever comeback waiting on your tongue. You just take a breath and storm toward the locker rooms, resisting the ridiculous urge to look back at Bradley… and ask if maybe he would want to shower together.

After a longer-than-necessary shower, you change into spare underclothes and slip your flight suit on over the top. It takes a little extra confidence to step back out of the locker room, but eventually, you do. You settle in the waiting room and do your best to pretend to work—analysing flight data and scribbling notes on tactical performance from Maverick’s current sky drills.

No one speaks to you, but you don’t miss the way Jake smirks as he strolls into the room after his run. Or the way he leans toward Javy, whispering something just out of earshot. You ignore it. You’re too tightly wound to entertain his usual bullshit.

When the day finally ends, you drag yourself home and go through the usual motions. But you can’t stop checking your phone.

You know last night was a fluke—an accident that landed you in a supply closet with the man your heart has apparently chosen to obsess over. You know better than to expect a message or a call. To think he might actually take you up on that teasing offer from this morning.

He’d been perfect last night. Soft, warm, protective—furious at your ex and almost wrecked with want when you’d touched him.

But today? He didn’t speak to you once. Not in an obvious, pointed way. Just… didn’t. He didn’t sit next to you in the afternoon briefing. He didn’t chase you down before you left.

Maybe he’s not interested. Maybe you’re not as good at reading people as you thought.

Despite how much your body aches and how tired you are, sleep doesn’t come easy. Your mattress is too soft. Your pillows are too cold. There’s no steady heartbeat to lull you into slumber. No warm hand to tangle your fingers with. The silence feels sharp in your ears, and your room feels colder than it did the night before last.

You’re awake well before your alarm, so you take your time getting ready. You shower even though you don’t need to, apply a little makeup even though you usually don’t, and secure your hair with more precision than normal. Breakfast is slow and deliberate, eaten in front of the TV as if you have all the time in the world.

You’re still out the door early—even before your inconsiderate neighbour, Slammy Steve. You finally gave him a name for when you curse him every morning as his door slams shut.

At base, you head toward the usual hangar, steeling yourself to face the squad again—to face Bradley. Your stomach twists at the thought. You’re far too hung up on a man who probably sees you as nothing more than a bit of fun to flirt with.

You’re the first in the briefing room by a good half hour, but the time passes quickly as your thoughts spiral. Bob’s the next to arrive, and he gives you a polite smile before settling in with his travel mug and quietly watching videos on his phone.

One by one, the rest of the squad filters in.

“You know me, Coyote,” Jake’s voice rings out, smug and too loud as he strolls in with his wingman. “I’m a generous man. I can’t help myself.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about, but you know it’s bullshit.

You sink lower in your chair and roll your eyes, hoping he won’t see you.

“Morning, ladies and gentlemen,” Jake calls as he drops into his usual seat just behind you. Then he leans in, his voice close to your ear. “What do we have here?”

You don’t react.

“Hangman,” Natasha warns flatly, “for once in your life, don’t be a dick.”

“What?” he says, mock innocence dripping from every syllable. “Just trying to say good morning to our lovely tactical training specialist.”

You glance at Natasha. She meets your eyes and offers a soft, apologetic smile—not that this idiot is any of her fault.

“Good morning, aviators,” Maverick’s voice fills the room, and some of the nausea in your stomach eases. “How are we today?”

There are a few mumbled responses—none from you—as he sets a stack of papers on the desk and powers up his laptop for the interactive display. He casts you a brief look and a small smile before returning to the task of setting up.

Then another set of footsteps enters at the back of the room, and you can’t help but turn.

“Sorry,” Bradley mutters. “Overslept.”

Maverick nods as Bradley takes his seat. No one says anything—until Jake does.

A low, sharp whistle. Then, into your ear again, “Guess getting locked in a closet’s the only way you’ll ever get Rooster to spend the night, huh?”

That’s all it takes to make the rubber band snap.

You’re on your feet in an instant, eyes narrowed, anger simmering beneath your skin like wildfire. You’re nauseous again—burning from the inside out.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” you snap, louder than intended—but you don’t care.

You’re angry. You’re humiliated. A week of jabs and insults from a man who doesn’t even know you, and now this, after falling for another man who apparently wants nothing to do with you.

Jake chuckles, condescending as hell. “Woah, settle down. It was just a joke.”

“You’re a fucking joke,” you bite back, voice low and steady—deadly. “You talk a big game, but the only thing you’ve mastered is flying straight and fast. You burn fuel and pull Gs like it’s a dick-measuring contest, but the second a manoeuvre requires restraint, finesse, or actual tactical thinking? You fall apart.”

You lean in, eyes locked on his like a missile. “You’re sloppy in a merge, predictable in a climb, and your cross-checks are lazy as hell. You fly like you’re invincible—which might be fine in a video game, but up there? That gets people killed.”

You pause, just long enough to see if Maverick will step in. He doesn’t.

“You’re not untouchable, Seresin. You’re just loud.”

Then you turn back to the front and drop into your seat, arms crossed, chest heaving as you take a few deep, centring breaths.

A low snicker breaks the silence, followed by a quiet, impressed whisper: ‘Damn… take that, Bagman.’ You don’t turn around, but you don’t have to—Jake’s probably still blinking. Pride simmers in your chest, and despite your best efforts, a smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth.

“Well then,” Maverick says, rubbing his palms together with a smirk. “Let’s get started.”

The morning briefing goes better than usual, mainly because Jake is too embarrassed to pipe up with his usual bullshit. Maverick talks through today’s drills, outlining what he’s looking for in their flying. He also mentions that you'll be up in the air today, analysing their tactical skills and reviewing their performance once they’re back on the ground. He gives Jake a pointed look as he says this, and you can’t help but bite back a giggle.

About an hour later, Maverick announces that it’s time to fly, and the team starts filing out of the room. Jake casts you a quick glance—not lethal, just a small warning. Somehow, his stupidly cocky grin is already back in place.

When you reach the door, you realise that Bradley has lingered behind, falling into step beside you just as you exit the room.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he says, glancing at you with that small smirk beneath that damn moustache, the sight of which sends a warm ache straight to your lower belly.

You offer him a clipped smile, a brief glance before looking back down, focusing on the movement of your boots.

“Unless... I already am,” he adds, his voice a mixture of question and statement.

You walk in silence for a moment, acutely aware of Bradley’s eyes on you—watching, soft and thoughtful.

“I mean,” he continues, hesitating for a moment with a soft chuckle. “I know I should have called or something, especially after waking you up with my dick, but... I was honestly spent last night. Barely made it home before crashing out. But, if you’ll let me, I’d like to... you know... wake you up with my dick in a way that’s more enjoyable for the both of us?”

You can’t help the grin that breaks across your face, a soft laugh slipping out before you can catch it. When you turn to look at him, his smile is sheepish and flushed, impossibly endearing, with a laugh hovering just behind it. His brown eyes are shining, warm and full of something that makes your chest ache—something you know is written all over your own face too.

And damn. If this isn’t the man you’re supposed to spend your life with, you know you’ll be spending it alone.

“Yeah, alright,” you sigh, feigning indifference. “I’ll allow it.”

“Allow it?” he echoes, his voice rich with laughter. “Wow. I’m a lucky guy.”

Warmth spreads through your whole body as the two of you continue into the hangar. You feel like you’re standing next to the sun—but it’s not burning you. It’s keeping you warm, keeping you alive.

You can’t help glancing at him every few seconds, even while Maverick shouts instructions and assigns the first flyers. You find it hard to tear yourself away from Bradley when you’re called to your jet, waiting for ground crew instructions. Your mind is foggy with thoughts of him: his eyes, his smile, the little laugh he lets out, and that adorable crease between his brows when he’s confused or offended.

Fuck. You’re so gone. You haven’t even kissed him yet, and it might kill you when you do.

At least you’ll die happy.

When the jet starts to rumble and your hands move over the controls, you pull your thoughts in. You focus on the here and now—the cockpit, the sky, the mission. Even the idea of flying like a grandma all day doesn’t kill your mood. Because you’ll see Bradley when you're back on the ground, and that’s enough to keep you grinning like an idiot behind your oxygen mask.

The sky is clear—perfect flying weather—and the wind is barely a whisper. You feel like a horse champing at the bit, waiting for the gate to open. But that’s not what you’re here for. So you settle, banking slow beneath where you know Maverick is flying, waiting for instruction.

“All right,” Maverick says, his voice crackling over comms. “Hangman, you’re mission lead. Payback, Fanboy, don’t let your wingman down. Fly the profile in your system. Deviate, and you’d better have a damn good reason. Watch for enemy aircraft.”

“Sorry, Mav, my comms are a little fuzzy,” Jake replies. “Did you say enemy or grandma? ’Cause from where I’m flying, I can only see a Honda Civic.”

Maverick’s irritation bleeds into his voice. “I’m the enemy aircraft, Hangman. Watch out for me. Our tactical specialist will be monitoring, and you can explain your mistakes to her when you’re back on the ground.”

“I don’t make mistakes,” Jake says, that smirk practically audible.

“We’ll see about that,” Maverick shoots back.

You roll your eyes, taking a deep breath and tamping down the irritation rising in your chest.

The others take off, and you track them—eyes sharp on the HUD and the sky. Maverick is flawless. And unfortunately, so is Jake. He’s a damn good pilot. Cocky, but predictable. You already know what he’s going to try next.

The drill plays out. You listen to the comm chatter as you stay low and out of the way, observing. The team gives Maverick a decent run for his money, nearly finishing the nav route before he takes out Reuben and Mickey. Jake claims victory anyway—but Maverick shuts him down fast.

“Fail,” he says. “Your wingman’s dead. Put the cocky bravado away, I’m done with it.”

You’ve never heard Maverick so sharp. He actually sounds like a CO—calm, stern, commanding—as he orders everyone back to base.

You keep low, banking through a few fluffy clouds, weaving like you’re bored. But your eyes stay trained, watching Jake flying just above, at your six.

“Hey, tactical specialist,” Jake’s voice cuts in. “Just watching your cross-checks from up here. I can practically see the superiority from miles away.”

You bite your tongue, suppressing the sarcastic retort clawing at your throat.

He adds, “Oh wait. Nope. That’s just your nose in the air.”

You roll your eyes and surge forward, jaw tight.

“That’s it,” Maverick says, voice stern. “Back to the nav route. Now. You’re flying it again. And I’m not the enemy this time.”

Jake snorts. “Mav, come on. You’re really gonna embarrass her like this?”

“That’s enough, Lieutenant,” Maverick snaps. “Follow your orders. Stick to your waypoints. And good luck.”

The way he says those last two words makes your pulse spike. Adrenaline kicks in, fast and sharp.

Your limbs feel light. Your chest is buzzing. Your breath hitches, and a wicked smile spreads beneath your mask.

“Alright,” Jake drawls, still clueless. “Come on, boys. Let’s show this Honda Civic how real men fly.”

You’re practically vibrating now. Locked in. Focused. You follow the others back to the route—Maverick hangs back. You’re a bull in the chute, about to blow the gate. You’re going to kick this cowboy into the dust.

All you need is the green light. The words.

“Whenever you’re ready, Grandma,” Jake says, smug as ever.

You take a breath. Narrow your gaze.

You’re not just going to shoot them down. That’s too easy. You’re going to humiliate them. Drag it out. Make them suffer before they burn.

Then Maverick speaks—low and clear, straight in your ear. A spark struck to gasoline.

“Flip the switch, Jinx.”

You’re gone before they can take their next breath.

They can’t see you. You know it. You’re good at disappearing. Now you wait—watching from the shadows, letting them scramble.

“Holy shit,” Reuben mutters, disbelief thick in his voice.

“Who the hell is Jinx?” Jake asks, a beat behind.

Reuben groans. “She is, idiot.”

“Wait—where have I heard that before?” Mickey pipes up.

“Jinx is the pilot Admiral Cain just grounded,” Reuben replies, his tone shifting fast toward panic. “Fastest low-level flyby of an aircraft carrier—barely two feet from the deck. And she’s the highest-scoring TOPGUN grad in twenty years. She’s fucking legendary.”

“No,” Jake breathes, full of denial. “No, she’s not Jinx. She can’t be.”

“You just had to run your fucking mouth, didn’t you?” Reuben says, voice deadpan with defeat.

“Oh, we’re fucked,” Mickey declares.

You slip beneath them like a shadow—silent, smooth—so close you could kiss their undercarriage with your canopy. But you don’t rush. You wait. Calculating. Cold. Planning the most humiliating move you can pull. You’re not here to play nice. You’re here to dominate.

“Payback,” Jake says, still cocky, still smug. “You’ve got a shadow on your six.”

“What?” Reuben’s voice spikes. “Where the hell is she? Fanboy, talk to me.”

“Negative radar contact,” Mickey answers. “I don’t see anything.”

You throttle back just enough to hover beneath them, then slide up—then down again—dancing through their blind spots like smoke in a breeze.

“Hangman,” Reuben snaps, panic rising, “get her off us.”

“Relax, Payback,” Jake drawls. “I’ve got eyes on her. She’s not as good as she thinks.”

You breathe deep—steady, focused. The smile on your face is razor sharp.

“Alright, Hangman,” you murmur, voice low and lethal. “Want to see how a real man flies?”

You yank the stick back and rocket toward the sun—fast, blinding, gone. They lose you instantly.

“Where’d she go?” Jake barks. “Fanboy, where the hell did she go?”

“She’s too fast,” Mickey replies, frantic. “She’s over—wait—no, she’s—shit. I can’t get a lock!”

Leveling out, you catch a glint of sunlight off a wing at two o’clock—Jake, hanging wide. Sloppy.

You grin and dive—clean, silent, deadly.

Back behind Payback and Fanboy, you slip into their six like a phantom. One breath. Then you float up, nose aligned perfectly.

“Boo,” you whisper.

“Shit!” Mickey yells. “She’s on us!”

“Break, break, break!” Reuben shouts, yanking the stick. But you’re tighter than their turns, reading every move. Mickey’s calling positions, but it’s useless—you’re already there.

Tone lock. Missile fired.

“Damn it!” Reuben groans.

You peel away quickly, climbing high and vanishing back into the sun.

Then you wait.

Jake’s climbing now, banking, twisting. Scanning. You can feel it—his nerves crackling across the sky. You disappeared, struck, and disappeared again. And now it’s just him. No backup. No noise. Just the slow, sinking realisation.

“Where the hell is she now?” he snaps.

“She’s hunting you,” Mickey says, voice laced with amusement.

Jake loops, banks, scans his six. He’s getting desperate. But it’s too late—you’re already behind him, tracking every flick of his wings like you're inside the cockpit.

Then you dive.

Fast. Precise. Dead-on.

He doesn’t even hear the tone until it screams.

“Splash two, Hangman,” you say, smooth as silk, smug as sin.

“Fuck!” he barks, pulling hard.

You stick with him and surge upward, wings slicing through a cloudbank. Then you roll cleanly inverted—and drop.

You hover over his jet, canopy to canopy, just feet apart. Perfect. Effortless. Deadly.

Jake looks up.

And you salute him—with one elegant, deliberate middle finger.

“No fucking way,” he mutters, eyes wide.

“Mission failed,” Maverick says, the smile audible in his voice. “Nice work, Jinx.”

You right your jet, throttle back with surgical control, and leave Jake spinning in your jet wash—stunned, smoked, and thoroughly outflown.

The comms are silent on the way back to base, and you can’t stop grinning behind your mask. Your cheeks are starting to ache. You feel like a caged bird finally stretching its wings. Like yourself again—confident, alive—and almost as smug as Jake probably feels every morning when he looks in the mirror at his stupid, pretty-boy face.

Then Reuben’s voice crackles through your headset. “Is it true you once locked three bogeys in a single sweep during a TOPGUN exercise?”

You laugh, quiet enough that your mic doesn’t catch it. “Yeah. Second fly drill. Some guy was running his mouth, so I unleashed hell. Got an earful for it, though—reckless flying and all.”

Feeling a little cocky, you bank up beside their jet, then roll cleanly over—canopy to canopy. You give them a polite little wave before settling beneath them, then punch the throttle and streak ahead toward base.

“Dude,” Mickey says, awestruck, “I think I’m in love.”

You grin and surge forward, barrelling up beside Maverick. You sweep past him—closer than regulation, jostling his jet just enough to rattle him. His laughter fills your headset as you rocket ahead, heart pounding as he closes in behind you.

You chase each other through the sky in a tame game of cat and mouse until it's time to land. Following instructions from the ground crew, you ease into a holding pattern, waiting your turn to descend.

It’s not long before you’re popping the canopy and tearing off your helmet, still grinning as you climb out of the jet and drop to the tarmac—light on your feet and high on adrenaline.

“Holy shit!” Natasha storms toward you, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. “You—you’re Jinx! I can’t believe—oh my God.”

Bob is right behind her. “You pulled a Cobra manoeuvre during a mock dogfight at a showcase event to evade missile lock. I was there.”

Laughter bubbles from your lips, heat blooming in your cheeks as the squad quickly surrounds you.

Natasha shakes her head in disbelief. “The navy hasn’t seen a pilot like you since-”

“Me,” Maverick cuts in, stepping up beside you with his helmet tucked under his arm.

You glance at him, noting the proud grin on his face, before turning back to the others. Natasha and Bob are front and centre, Javy just behind them, with Reuben and Mickey lingering in the back, still wearing their helmets. But you don’t see Bradley.

“Listen up,” Maverick says, his tone turning serious. “As most of you know, Jinx was grounded for a particularly dangerous stunt—well, she should be grounded. Admiral Simpson agreed to let her fly on the condition that only need-to-know personnel are made aware of her identity. I’ve just made you all need-to-know. Now you have to prove you can be trusted with that.”

Jake steps forward, falling in beside Natasha, his expression unreadable. You and Maverick both turn toward him, and your stomach twists. If he wanted to, he could unravel everything.

Jake meets your eyes, and for the first time, there’s nothing but sincerity behind his. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You’re... you’re fucking amazing.”

A grin breaks across his face—and yours follows. The squad erupts in cheers as Maverick claps a hand on your shoulder. You offer Jake a fist bump, and he accepts it with a laugh.

“You know,” he says, that cocky smirk firmly back in place, “if it doesn’t work out with Rooster, I’m always-”

“That’s enough, Hangman,” Bradley cuts in, dropping a hand on Jake’s shoulder and nudging him aside.

You giggle like a schoolgirl with a crush. Your cheeks are on fire, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from grinning like an idiot.

Bradley turns to you. “Hey.”

You tilt your head slightly, eyes locking on his stupidly handsome face. “Hi.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck, his own cheeks tinged red. “That was—uh, you’re even cooler than I thought.”

You snort, unladylike and unbothered. “That so?”

He nods and steps closer, just a few inches between your boots.

“Does that intimidate you?” you tease.

He laughs again and glances up, Adam’s apple bobbing beneath that sun-kissed skin. The world falls away—it’s just the two of you now, the rest of the squad, watching and waiting, have all but disappeared.

“No,” he says, eyes back on you. “It kinda turns me on.”

You don’t think. You just move.

Your hand slides up the front of his flight suit, fingers curling into his collar as you tug him down before he can say another word.

And then you kiss him.

It’s not soft. It’s not tentative. It’s everything—all the tension, the smart-ass remarks, the stolen glances and breathless moments that led to this.

You rise onto your toes and his hands catch your waist, pulling you closer. His mouth claims yours like a promise, like he’s been waiting for this as long as you have. And when his tongue brushes the seam of your lips, you don’t hesitate—you part for him, and it’s like striking a match.

There’s laughter in the background, noise and movement, but it all fades beneath the roar of your pulse and the heat of his mouth. All you can feel is him—his body, his breath, his hands. You want the flight suits gone, burned, anything that dares keep him from you reduced to ash.

It takes everything you have not to absolutely devour him right there on the tarmac. But you’re still at work. And people are watching.

So you part—eventually—grinning like idiots and panting like you’ve just sprinted a mile in full gear.

“Jesus,” Mickey mutters from somewhere behind Bradley. “Even I’m hot and bothered after that.”

“All right, you two,” Maverick chuckles. “Save it for the supply closet.”

You roll your eyes and drop back onto your heels, shooting him your best unimpressed glare—which, admittedly, isn’t very convincing when you’re high on adrenaline and kissing Bradley Bradshaw.

“We’re never living that down, are we?”

“No,” Maverick replies with a grin. “Never.”

You groan and turn back toward Bradley, letting your forehead fall against his chest.

“I’m still not convinced you two didn’t fuck in there,” Jake says, striding past toward the briefing room.

A chorus of half-laughs and agreement follows him.

Bradley’s chest shakes with laughter beneath your cheek, one arm still wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close.

“If they’re going to assume we did it in there,” he murmurs, just for you, “maybe we should just go do it in there.”

You glance up at him, eyes flicking to his mouth, already picturing that stupidly hot moustache between your thighs.

“Don’t fucking tempt me.”

He laughs again and drops his hand to yours, fingers tangling as he tugs you toward the briefing room. Your eyes fall to his ass—shameless, hungry—watching the way it moves with each step just ahead of you. Teasing. Taunting.

Being assigned to Maverick’s special detachment isn’t your punishment. Flying like Jake’s grandma in her Honda Civic isn’t your punishment either. No—the real punishment is spending ten hours a day, five days a week with Bradley fucking Bradshaw, pretending to be professional. Just waiting for the evenings when you can drag him to bed and completely, unapologetically devour him.

END.

#bradley bradshaw #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster #rooster x reader #top gun: maverick #top gun #miles teller #miles teller x reader #one shot #oneshot #fanfiction #fan fiction #imagine #top gun x reader #jake seresin #maverick #hangman

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sweetshuga · 3 months ago

Text

「 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒗𝒆 ’𝒆𝒎 𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 ✧ 𝑪.𝑺 」

ᯓ 𝑰𝒅𝒆𝒂 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒕 + 𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒔 𝒃𝒚 @malsmind «𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝑽𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏» ────

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝑺𝑴𝑼𝑻! ⋆ strangers to something ⋆ dirty talk ⋆ pet names ⋆ pussy eating ⋆ munch!chris ⋆ (kinda) mean!chris ⋆ dom!chris ⋆ fingering ⋆ degradation kink? ⋆ praise kink ⋆ edging? ⋆ squirting + more.

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 𝟑 𝒌

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: This is a collab with @malsmind (aka my baby momma) It took me 3 business days to write this ’cause I’m so fucking slow like that (ty for being patient Mal, luv uuu).

𝑲𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝑰𝒏 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒅: English is not my first language!

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: What happens when Chris actually ends up reading your anonymous confession out loud?

Act 1: Chris is definitely not a munch...

You sat on one of the seats in the third row from the front, nibbling on your bottom lip as you smoothed out your pink t-shirt that had "Certified Munch" written in capital letters on the front. You had incorporated the tee so well in your outfit that no one paid much attention to it—not like they could with all the excitement buzzing in the air.

Your heart thumped against your ribcage in anticipation as you waited for the triplets to appear. The countdown began and everyone went crazy, screaming the numbers as it decreased down to 1.

The cheers were loud when the triplets appeared. Screams of excitement filled the air when they laughed and talked on the microphone, greeting their fans before making themselves comfortable on the sofas.

About 15 minutes in, Chris stood up and brought a briefcase to the table in between the two sofas as Nick and Matt talked about the anonymous confessions from the last tour. Chris handed Nick a few q-cards before walking over to the sofa Matt sat at, handing him half of the remainder of the cards before sitting down beside him.

Nick had the honour to read out the first confession, then it was Chris’ turn.

"It might seem like a hot take and I might be wrong but Chris is definitely not a munch..." As Chris began reading the confession, his brows furrowed, voice getting more quieter with each word as his brain worked to comprehend what he just read out loud.

Your eyes widened slowly when you heard what you wrote being read out loud by none other than Chris himself. You were not expecting him to read yours. You had written the anonymous confession as a joke, thinking they would never read it in front of a whole damn crowd.

The triplets exchanged a glance, confused as to how the card was in there even though they had sorted out which ones to read and which ones to not.

The auditorium filled with giggles from those that understood what it meant and small murmurs from people that weren’t quite getting it.

After a few awkward seconds, Chris burst out laughing, reading the card again as he shook his head in amusement. "Wow... Who even wrote this?" He chuckled, eyes raking the crowd until it landed on you—he knew immediately that it was you.

What gave it away? C’mon now, you were wearing such a bold t-shirt—it’s too much of a coincidence not to be you.

You quickly shook your head no when they asked if you wanted to elaborate. Even though you were the one that wrote such a crude thing, you weren’t ready to confront it or be confronted about it.

Nick and Matt made some jokes here and there before it was Matt’s turn to read out a confession. Chris, however, had an unreadable expression on his face as he looked at the crowd before shifting his attention back to Matt when he started to read the next confession.

Act 2: Meet Chris backstage?

After the show ended, people were getting ready to leave and so were you. That’s when a security guard – you saw when you first entered the stadium – suddenly approached you.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stood up from your seat with your bag, afraid that you had gotten into trouble from the stunt you pulled with the anonymous confession.

The security guard spoke before you could ask him what was wrong. "Chris asked me to bring you backstage." You froze, blinking rapidly as you muttered out a very confused "what?" making the guy repeat himself.

You couldn’t believe it.

Chris? As in the Christopher Sturniolo asking you to come backstage? Yeah, it had to be a sick joke. But the security guard didn’t look like he was joking and that was messing with your head.

In the end, you followed the security guard backstage, still very much confused and nervous, but now with growing excitement.

As you walked further down a corridor and towards a room labelled "personnel only", the realization that you were indeed meeting Chris was heavy, enough to take your breath away.

As you entered the room, there he was; Chris Sturniolo. Your heart was beating so hard that you could hear it in your ears when he looked up from his phone. A slow smirk plastered on his lips as he stood up from the couch he was sitting on and walked towards you.

The security guard walked out of the room, leaving you two alone in the room. The room felt so small even though it was spacious enough. The air felt thick, enough to make you feel like you were suffocating as you swallowed hard.

"So..." Chris drawled, his head tilting slightly as his eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement. "You’re the one who wrote that munch shit?" He barely hid his amusement, his voice thick with unspent laughter.

You could only nod your head, embarrassed by the sudden unexpected confrontation. Chris’ smirk widened when he took in your nervousness—it only emboldened him.

"What did you mean by that?" He asked on purpose, knowing exactly what you meant but it wouldn’t be so fun to just let it go that easily now would it?

"By what?" You asked back dumbly, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to comprehend the fact that you were talking to Chris. He didn’t even give you a moment to collect yourself as he moved closer, standing so close that you could feel his body heat.

"What did you mean by... not a munch?" His voice was slightly quieter, more intimate as he held eye contact—obviously testing you, wanting to see your reaction.

"You, um, just don’t seem like the type to enjoy giving head...?" Your words came out more as a question, as if you were doubting it yourself. Cursing internally, you let out a barely audible sigh, slightly annoyed by how much you were stammering.

You weren’t usually this nervous or quiet when talking to people, but something about the way he was looking at you; the way he was smirking smugly like he could read your thoughts; the way there was a hint of blatant teasing in his tone—it all left your knees weak.

"Tell me." He began, pausing to make you squirm—which he succeeded in doing. "How do you know if I enjoy eating pussy or not?" He asked bluntly, causing your breath to stutter.

"I don’t know..." You mumbled, feeling wetness pool in your panties from the way he was talking to you. You were getting so damned turned on and Chris wasn’t even doing anything, just asking you a few simple questions.

It was almost laughable how affected you were.

"Well, now I wanna prove to you that I do in fact enjoy it a lot." His smirk widened, knowing damn well what he was doing to you.

He stepped closer until his body touched yours, slowly backing you towards the nearest wall as you blinked rapidly, stumbling slightly as your breath hitched again. "Wha-" The words you tried to say died in your throat before you could say them.

"Jus’ wanna prove you wrong, baby." He said, tilting your face slightly up with his hand and leaning down as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His breath ghosted over your lips, causing them to part subtly.

"Or are you gonna be stubborn and go around spreading bullshit about me when you don’t know shit?" He whispered harshly against your lips and you quickly shook your head no, making him smirk smugly.

"Good girl."

Act 3: Prove ’em wrong

Your head was thrown back in ecstasy, eyes rolling back in your skull as Chris’ mouth devoured your cunt. Your fingers curled in his hair, tugging at the strands as your thighs trembled subtly where it sat on his shoulders.

Chris moaned against your pussy, his fingers digging possessively in the supple flesh of your ass as he pulled you closer to his face.

"So fucking good." He groaned as he pulled back, sitting up. His fingers replaced his mouth, two long digits slowly sliding inside your greedy cunt and curling upwards to rub against that spongy spot that made your eyes roll back involuntarily.

"Here?" He smirked, pressing harder against your sweet spot, eliciting a needy moan from you. "Feels soo good doesn’t it?" He taunted as he started to finger-fuck you, holding your hips down with his free hand to stop you from bucking your hips.

Chris let out an airy chuckle when he heard the desperate noises slipping past your lips. "You’ve to be a little quieter, ma..." He trailed off, his smirk widening as he continued. "Unless you want people to hear what a fucking whore you are."

Your face burned with embarrassment and humiliation, but there was a spark of what seemed like... excitement? The degrading words only succeeded in doubling your pleasure, getting you closer and closer to the edge as you clutched onto the couch cushions for dear life.

"Fuuck, y’hear that?" He groaned, referring to the wet squelches from his fingers ramming into your sopping pussy over and over again. "S’fucking wet... All because of me." He breathed out, trying to hide how much this was affecting him.

He felt your inner muscles flutter around his fingers, your moans growing in both volume and desperation as you got closer to coming undone, but Chris wasn’t done with you yet.

A pathetic whine escaped you when he pulled out his fingers, sucking your juices off of them with a delighted hum. His lips curled at the corners and you knew that he was well aware of what he was doing to you.

"So pretty." He ran his thumb over your swollen, pulsating clit, making you jump slightly from how sensitive you were, a needy whimper tumbling out before you could stop it.

"Such pretty noises," he muttered under his breath, but it was loud enough for you to hear and it sent shivers down your spine. You were sure that Chris felt your body tremble, judging by the way his smirk widened into a smug grin.

"You want more?" He asked, his hands now caressing your thighs as he waited for your reply even though he knew the answer already, but he wanted to hear you say it.

Chris clicked his tongue when you nodded. "Ah-ah, words baby, use your words." You were too far gone to care about how desperate you sounded as you whimpered. "Please, Chris... I need you- your fingers, your mouth- anything, please..."

"Theere you go." He drawled. "Wasn’t so hard now was it?"

His head dipped down again, arms wrapping around your thighs as he pulled you closer to him. His tongue flattened out to lick stripes up your slit before his thumbs spread open your folds. The sight of your glistening pussy made him salivate as he swallowed hard, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

He leaned in and closed his lips around your clit, sucking gently as his fingers prodded at your entrance before slipping inside again. A whiny sound ripped from your throat as your eyes rolled back briefly before closing shut. You were seeing stars from the suction on your clit from his mouth.

Your increasingly loud moans spurred him on, making him redouble his efforts to push you over the edge.

Your body tensed, thighs trembling slightly as your breath hitched—coming in short gasps. Chris groaned against your pussy when he felt your insides contract around his fingers, pulsing rhythmically all while greedily pulling him in deeper.

"Ch-chris-- I’m gonna—ffuuuck--" Your breath hitched, your mouth opening in a silent scream as your eyes snapped open, landing on the delicious sight between your legs.

A low drawn out moan left your lips when the pressure in your stomach finally burst—white-hot pleasure running through your whole body.

Chris gasped softly when a clear liquid sprayed out, making him recoil back from surprise. He blinked, brain short-circuiting as his fingers stilled inside you before finally realising that you were squirting.

"Fuuck, did you just squirt? That’s so fucking sexy." He groaned as his fingers started to pound into you without waiting for a response, purposely curling up to hit your g-spot in hopes to make you squirt again.

You were so sensitive from orgasming that you could feel your second release approaching terrifyingly quickly. Your eyes widened as you clutched onto his arm—trying to ground yourself from the intense pleasure and also to distract yourself to not cum so quickly.

Chris’ head was in between your thighs before you knew it, eating you out like you were his last fucking meal. Your hips bucked—only to get held down by his free hand. You could only lay there and take it as his mouth and fingers worked you to the edge again.

It was a matter of seconds before you were cumming all over his face—quite literally. He wasn’t surprised this time around, just kept eating you out even as you gushed all over him, lapping up your release like it was his favourite ice cream.

You nearly forgot where you were as you moaned loudly until Chris’ hand left your hip and clamped over your mouth instead, effectively muffling your cries of pleasure.

He kept licking and sucking your sensitive bundle of nerves all while his fingers petted your gummy walls until you were boneless, small whimpers being muffled by his hand.

Chris pulled back to admire the sight of your trembling body, proud of his handiwork. His hand and face were coated in your release and the sight made your stomach do somersaults.

He didn’t even need you to tell him that you were wrong with your anonymous confession—he already knew your answer since your body answered it for him. A satisfied smirk plastered on his lips as he walked over to the small table in the corner of the room to retrieve tissues and wet wipes.

He began cleaning up your inner thighs when he came back, making sure you were clean before cleaning up his face, hand and the couch, from your release, watching with a mischievous gleam in his eyes as you shakily wore your lace panties back on.

"Cute shit you got there." He commented, tossing the used wet wipes and tissues in the trash can. "You into that? Cute lacy sets?" He teased, chuckling softly to himself when you nodded, finding you more and more adorable.

Chris was painfully hard, adjusting himself in his pants as he manspread, trying to relieve the tension. He saw you looking at his lap, making him spread his legs more without even realising it.

"You need... um, help? With that?" You gestured vaguely at his lap, running a hand through your hair as you tried to fix it.

Chris just shook his head with a soft chuckle. "Nah, I’m fine, you jus’ worry about fixing your clothes, can’t go around looking so edible." He grinned, and you couldn’t help a chuckle at his words.

Fuck, how much you loved this man.

As you two sat on the couch – fixing yourselves and drinking water – you suddenly remembered that you had an instant film camera in your bag. You quickly walked over to the table to get it as Chris raised an eyebrow at your enthusiasm.

"Can we take a picture?" You asked as you walked back to the couch where Chris was.

"Now? After I ate you out like my life depended on it?" He teased, but didn’t say no as he stood up, running a hand through his hair to fix it but only succeeded in making it messier instead.

Chris took the camera from you as he pulled you into his side, his arm wrapping around your waist before angling the camera to capture you both.

You smiled for the picture, relaxing against him. A short shuttering sound came from the camera before a small picture slowly slid up from the top. Chris took it when it was fully out, shaking it firmly before he held it still in his hand, watching as the ink slowly darkened.

"Can you write your signature too?" You decided to use the opportunity to ask for his signature as well—which he gladly wrote down on the back. He wrote something else after his signature, but you were too dazed from the whole experience to notice it.

Chris handed you the picture and your camera, his fingers lingering on yours for a beat before he took his hand away, looking away as he cleared his throat.

After a few seconds, he looked back at you again with a friendly smile on his face, but his gaze lingered on your lips like he was longing for it—telling a very different story from the smile he was giving you.

You put the picture and camera in your bag, fixing your t-shirt one last time, not even noticing the way he was looking at you.

"Well..." He paused, looking into your eyes when you looked at him, searching yours with his blue ones. "It was a pleasure to meet you-" Before he could say anything else, his phone rang, breaking the moment between you two.

Chris let out a soft sigh when he saw the caller id.

"Nick’s calling me, probably wondering where I am... I gotta go." He flashed you an apologetic smile. "See you around." He pulled you into a quick hug before walking towards the door.

Chris looked back and waved slightly, flashing you a teasing smirk before he walked out of the room, leaving your heart beating rapidly from the encounter.

See you around, huh?

As you walked out of the stadium a few minutes later, you rummaged through your bag and took out the picture, biting back a wide grin as you looked at it. Your heart skipped a beat when you turned the picture around, seeing a phone number written below Chris’ signature with "Let’s keep in touch :)" written beside it.

No. Fucking. Way.

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