#he also hasn’t been let out of his cage at all in two weeks and he’s supposed to spend two hours a day out and about

[milo-is-rambling]

REUNITED WITH FUNK!!! HE STILL LIVES AND REMEMBERS ME

[wonustars]

𝙀𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝘼𝙛𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙧

Part 1. | Soobin Vers. | Yeonjun Vers.

Summary:  After an eventful study session with Beomgyu, you thought things between you would turn out well. Instead he’s not to be seen for two weeks. Leaving you confused and feeling rejected.

Reposts are always appreciated/encouraged!! Tumblr works on reblogs not likes, Thank you for your support :)

Tags: enemies to lovers, jealous!beomgyu, jealous!reader, wolfcut!gyu, nonidol!au, university au, skater!gyu, fluff, angst, lots of arguing. (if i missed any warnings let me know)

Warnings: smut mdni! bigdick!gyu, dom!gyu, sub!reader, pet names, unprotected sex, cream pie, choking, oral (f.receiving), fingering, spanking (f. receiving), cockwarming, multiple orgasms, praising and degrading.

Wordcount: 5876

It’s been exactly two weeks since you had last seen Beomgyu. After the eventful study session for your project, he had seemed to have fallen off the face of the Earth. He hadn’t even been spotted at the local skate park. And one thing about Beomgyu was that he was always there. Always. Loitering and fooling around with his other skater friends. A part of you felt a twang of disappointment. Did he regret sleeping with you that one time? Even though there was a consensus that you both had enjoyed it? 

You’re reading your textbook, each line blurring into a jumble of nonsense. It has been hard to focus because of the confusion Beomgyu seems to have caused. You’ve been silently searching for him around campus hoping that he would randomly turn up. He hasn’t even been attending your shared biology class. Not that he even needed to, Beomgyu was naturally smart, infuriatingly enough. 

You groan in annoyance, all these thoughts about your last hook-up with the person you thought you hated have become a nuisance. You haven’t been able to think straight since then, especially knowing that you have no clue how Beomgyu had felt after everything happened. Your textbook is now propped up on the table, covering you as you run your hands through your hair. A small habit that seemed to have intensified these last few weeks. 

Deciding to finally give up on your lousy attempt to finish your homework, you get up to put back the textbook into its rightful place. Mentally cursing Beomgyu for causing you to not be able to think properly. 

Your chair lightly scrapes the floor as you stand up to head to the bookshelves. The library has been your new designated study area. Not only is it quiet enough to keep you busy, but it is also the only spot on campus that doesn’t remind you of him. The smell of all the old books gave you a sense of comfort and there was enough natural light to keep you from going crazy. You especially enjoyed the way the rain would hit the windows, leaving a pitter-patter sound that lulled you into a perfect rhythm to study. 

As you walk to the biology section of the library a flash of black and white hair catches your attention. You stop in your tracks and your heart plummets to the floor in mere seconds. You turn to look and low and behold it's the last person you had expected to see in your little sanctuary. He’s currently pressed up against a random girl, caging her between his tall frame and the bookshelf. Their faces connected, obnoxiously making out in a secluded corner. His long hair was still the same as you remembered. Long, soft and perfectly framing his face. You couldn’t help but stand there partly in shock and partly in disappointment. He’s been here this whole time? Maybe he was ignoring you. You never wanted to admit it to yourself because of the feeling it gave you, but now it seems like the only reasonable explanation.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, they stop their makeout session and Beomgyu turns and sees you staring at the two of them. He looks shocked, almost as if he’s been caught. Your eyes widen, and a cold sweat runs down the back of your neck. He pulls himself out of her grasp and is in the process of shouting your name. Before he could advance any further you quickly turn around abandoning your textbook onto the closest shelf. Your mind running a million miles an hour, and your body responding before you could think properly. At this point, you’re practically sprinting out of the library, and your speed causes a few students to turn their heads to look at you. You couldn’t care less, you just want to get out of there. 

Beomgyu must’ve lost track of you because he’s nowhere to be seen at this point. Your hands are on your knees, trying your best to catch your breath. Your daily study session at the library has now made an unexpected turn. Thinking back to what you witnessed makes your heart ache with confusion and a little bit of jealousy. Even though Beomgyu isn't yours and he can fuck anybody he wanted, you still feel a bit of sorrow. You presumed something had changed between you two after that day, but you didn’t expect it to be a negative one. 

Sighing in defeat you decide that this would be the last time that you were going to think about the stupid boy and his stupid highlights. Whatever, he can do whatever the fuck he wants, you thought. Wanting to exchange the feelings of rejection for anger, you stomp back to your apartment not wanting to continue reliving the dreadful scene in your head

᭝ ܰ ៳ׄ 𓄳 ̤  “The picture burning in my brain, kissing in the rain.”

The following day you headed to your biology class as usual, except this time the usually empty seat next to yours is filled. The back of Beomgyu’s head burns into your vision. Instead of picking somewhere else to sit you decide to stop being a little bitch and sit in your usual spot. Taking a seat, you don’t even bother to glance at the boy sitting next to you. Instead, you focus all your attention on the front of the class, shifting uncomfortably in your seat every so often. Beomgyu doesn’t seem to be saying a word either, for the past hour he’s been jotting down notes seriously. In most cases, this would be a relief but because of the amount of tension between you, this produces more anger in you rather than content. Before you know it the class ends and you're left to pick up your things and head to the dining hall to get some lunch. That is until your ears perk up at someone calling your name from across the room. 

“Hey Y/n! Wait up for me?” Someone running behind you asks. You turn to see that Soobin is taking long strides toward you, trying to get your attention. At the same time from the corner of your eye, you can see Beomgyu turn his head in curiosity. 

You stop in your tracks to face Soobin, a sweet smile spreads across your face. 

“Hi Soobin! To what do I owe the pleasure of speaking to you today?” You ask, genuinely curious. 

This isn’t the first time you’ve interacted with the man, but it's rare. Rare enough that you are always shocked by how tall he is every time you have the chance to talk to him. His blond hair is slightly covering his eyes; you can’t help but notice how cute he looks in a pair of glasses.

“There's something that I wanted to ask you actually..” He scratches the back of his neck feeling nervous. You raise your eyebrows as you look at him, now you’re even more curious. What you don’t notice is Beomgyu trying to listen in on your conversation. 

“Okay, what is it?” 

“I was wondering if you wanted to go to the cafe across campus with me tonight?” He blurts out, a hue of red growing on his cheeks, the tips of his ears also a shade of pink in embarrassment. You let out a small laugh because of how endearing you find him.   

“Sure! I’d love to, I'll meet you there at 7?” Finalizing your plans with him, and you finally feel good about yourself for the first time in two weeks. 

You leave the lecture hall, failing to notice Beomgyu’s figure still standing by your shared desks. Too caught up in talking to Soobin to detect the energy of anger radiating off Beomgyu’s body. He can’t help but wonder if you had feelings for Soobin. What if you preferred Soobin over him? At this point you probably did, after all that he’s done. Even then, Beomgyu still felt like Soobin didn’t deserve your attention, not even a date to the cafe. 

᭝ ܰ ៳ׄ 𓄳 ̤ 

Right at seven p.m. you enter the small cafe located across your campus. You felt excited to go on this date considering it's been a while since you entertained the thought of seeing someone romantically. Thoughts of Beomgyu slowly melted away whilst Soobin started to occupy a new spot in your mind. It gave you relief, constantly wondering about Beomgyu gave you an abnormal amount of stress. Tonight isn’t about him though, it’s about you and your time with Soobin. 

The cafe was adorable. Decorations are carefully placed around the venue leaving a cute and comfortable vibe. Spotting Soobin sitting in a booth by the window, you call out his name and he looks up and smiles at you; showing off his dimples. 

“Hey! Should we go and order our drinks?” Soobin asks you, he stands up to greet you with a hug. You lean into the hug and his warmth envelopes you. A sigh is drawn out of you, not being able to remember the last time you received such soft affection. You could get used to this, you thought. Soobin was homely, and he would never confuse you the way Beomgyu does.

“Yeah let’s go.” You smile, taking his hand and walking with him to the counter. 

The both of you order your drinks taking a seat at the booth Soobin was previously sitting at before. A bell rings throughout the cafe, causing you to turn to see who walks in. Unfortunately, it's none other than Choi Beomgyu, who always seems to rain on your parade. You attempt to take your eyes off him but it’s like he's got you in a trance.

Beomgyu takes a brief look around the quiet cafe before he eventually ends up spotting you and Soobin sitting in the corner. A smirk already appears on his face, the mischievous look in his eyes emphasizes as he walks towards you two. Whatever he had planned, you already know it wasn’t going to be something you would enjoy. 

“Soobin! Y/n! Fancy seeing you guys here” He feigns surprise already sitting into the seat beside you, lodging himself in the middle of your date.

“Hey Beomgyu!” Poor, kind, and naive Soobin greets him, not knowing Beomgyu’s plan just yet. 

“What are you two doing here?” Beomgyu asks.

“Beomgyu. Soobin and I are on a date.” You finally speak up, not having the patience to deal with him. Rolling your eyes, you silently hope that this will cause Beomgyu to leave the two of you alone. The cafe was practically empty other than the worker behind the counter. This makes things even more awkward but Beomgyu doesn’t seem to have plans to leave any time soon. It’s almost as if he’s been cemented to the seat. Soobin looks at you confused, his eyebrows scrunching together cutely. You can't help but give him an apologetic smile. 

“A date… Wow, Soobin I didn’t know you have a thing for little y/n over here.” Beomgyu laughs. 

“Yeah, actually I do have a thing for her Beomgyu, and I would like to be on this date with her alone,” Soobin emphasizes. 

Beomgyu’s mischievous smile only grows wider with Soobin's words. You feel dizzy as this conversation seemingly takes a negative turn. 

“Oh my bad man, but I don’t think y/n feels the same way.” 

“Why do you say that?” Soobin’s eyebrows quirk up wanting to know what Beomgyu has to say.

 No No No No, you thought, you could already tell where this was going. Knowing Beomgyu he always has something up his sleeve. He always knew how to get under people's skin, especially yours. His way of manipulating the situation in his favour was something he was always good at. Why was he even doing all this now? You can’t help but wonder why he isn’t with the girl he was kissing yesterday. The fact that he could be doing anything else at this moment, but instead, he is ruining your date with Soobin. It's giving you whiplash, his actions never line up with one another. One day he was not speaking to you, not even anywhere to be seen on campus. Today he thinks he can ruin a perfectly fine date with someone who communicates interest in you. 

“Beomgyu. Please leave.” You’re practically begging. You turn to him, the desperation in your eyes could be seen from miles away but Beomgyu just chooses to ignore it. 

“Oh nothing important, just thought you should know y/n and I ended u-” Beomgyu was about to finish his sentence but you were quick to cut him off. You knew how that sentence was about to end but you didn’t want Soobin to judge you or see you in a negative light. Beomgyu is starting to get on your nerves now and your patience has always been on the thinner side. 

“Don't listen to him..... I’m so sorry Soob but I’m going to have to cut this date short, but I’ll text you ok? I think I need to have a conversation with Beomgyu over here.” You’re rambling now, but you need to get Beomgyu away from Soobin as soon as possible. Soobin doesn’t seem to protest, still confused. You leave your date dumbfounded as you drag Beomgyu out of the cafe, fully prepared to give him hell for his actions. 

Once you’re outside of the building and away from prying ears or eyes you begin your rant. 

“Choi Beomgyu what the fuck were you thinking following me just to ruin my date? You leave for two weeks with no explanation. No call or text, you don't even show up to class for fucks sake!” Yelling at the top of your lungs, finally able to let out all the anger that's been pent up inside you these past few weeks. 

“I’m sorry y/n but I can just sit here and watch you go on a date with him. He’s not right for you.”

“He's not right for me? Oh, that's rich coming from you, Beomgyu. If anything you’re not right for me. You fuck me, leave for 2 fucking weeks, and the next time I see you, you have your tongue shoved down someone else’s throat. But yeah, Soobin isn’t the right one for me. OK then.” You roll your eyes, sick of Beomgyus shit now, and not wanting to listen anymore. 

You walk away from him, too tired to carry on with the argument. You already feel the tears starting to well up but you try your best not to let them fall. Beomgyu wasn’t worth your tears. If you didn’t know any better you would fully believe that he only exists to make you miserable. The cold air causes you to hug yourself as you walk away. 

Out of nowhere, Beomgyu attempts to stop you, his large frame towering over you once again. 

“Beomgyu I have nothing else to say to you so please let me leave,” You speak, gritting through your teeth; and not wanting to make eye contact with him. Your eyes are looking down at your feet. 

“No,” Beomgyu states firmly. 

“No?” Now you’re pissed and you look at him like you’re about to commit a serious offence. 

“No y/n I’m not letting you go, so let me explain.” He’s pleading now, asking you to hear him out just this once. 

You roll your eyes, the cold is nipping at your skin now. You’re starting to shiver and mentally cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket. You stay silent, not feeling up for a fight with him anymore. You gesture for him to go on and an expression of relief washes over his face. He takes a step closer to you with an expression ridden with guilt. You feel confused, this is probably the first time you’ve seen him look so sorrowful. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re still angry with him for barging in on you and Soobin's peaceful date. If you were smart enough you would turn around and go back inside the cafe. But you weren’t smart enough, your feet are firmly planted on the sidewalk. Beomgyu has always had a knack for suppressing your common sense. 

“I’m sorry for ignoring you y/n. I don’t regret anything that happened that night, I just-” He stops mid-sentence, groaning with frustration. His cheeks are an obvious shade of pink and he can’t help but put his face in his hands. 

Beomgyu was never one to be able to express his emotions; even just standing here in front of you has him jumbling up all his words. He can’t help but feel nervous when you’re looking up at him so innocently. Your eyes catching the light of the moon and your nose a soft hue of pink from the cold. You’re not even aware of the effect you have on him and it only intensified after he was able to get a taste of you. You mesmerize him in every way, your soft lips, the sounds of your moans while he's inside you. It’s too much for him. 

“Go on..” You urge him to continue, getting more impatient by the minute. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry I really am. I don't know what's gotten into me. I know I’ve been gone but I just couldn’t stop thinking about you after that night. I did everything to try and forget you. I even tried to hook up with someone else, but you’ve ruined me. You’ve ruined me for everyone else and I don’t want anyone else.” Beomgyus rambling, his eyes searching for a reaction but to him your expression is unreadable. 

His words have your heart racing and you have no idea how to feel. I’ve ruined him? You thought to yourself. You couldn’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth right now, and you feel the annoyance starting to trickle back in. 

“Beomgyu, that still doesn’t give you the right to ignore me and try to ruin my date with Soobin.” 

“I know, I know y/n, I just couldn’t help myself, the way he looks at you pisses me off so much and he doesn’t deserve you. No one does, you’re too good for anyone. Too good for me. But I want you, I want you and I can’t stand the thought of someone like Soobin being the one to fuck you every night. It should be me, not him.” His words are vulgar. You’re in shock now but you can feel the heat go straight to your legs. He’s staring at you with so much intensity that your resolve is starting to crumble. It’s too damn cold to be standing out here arguing with him. So you do what no sane person would think to do at this moment. You lean in and push your lips against his. 

Beomgyu lets out a sound of surprise but ultimately reciprocates the kiss almost immediately. Soft lips move against his fluidly while you take the opportunity to comb your fingers through his hair. You loved his long hair and how soft it feels between your fingers. You can’t help but tug at it lightly, eliciting a groan to leave Beomgyu’s mouth. His hands are holding onto your waist so tight. The hold is suffocating in the most intoxicating way. His lips, the way he tastes against your tongue is addictive. This is what you’ve been missing these past few weeks and you want to make up for lost time.

“Beomgyu.” You’re  pulling away from him, not missing the disappointed look on his face. He looks so angelic for someone who made you go through fifty different emotions in the span of an hour. He's looking at you with bedroom eyes, his hands raking up and down your waist, not wanting to let you go. The movement of his hands are causing your shirt to lift up slightly, teasingly brushing against your bare skin. “Take me home.” 

᭝ ܰ ៳ׄ 𓄳 ̤  “when the lights go out, she’s all i ever think about” 

The tension during the car ride is thick; while the music murmurs softly as Beomgyu drives towards your apartment. He is holding your thigh, running his hands up and down trying to soothe you. But it only arouses you even more, you’re practically counting down the seconds till you reach your place. You felt nervous even though this isn’t your first time being intimate with him, but these two weeks apart felt like an eternity.

Finally after the longest 10 minute drive of your life, you reach your destination. The street lights are dim and your neighbourhood is practically deserted. The only disturbance was the sound of the music playing from the car’s speakers, as well as the loud thumping of your own heartbeat. The moon is still high in the evening sky illuminating all that's below it. You’re starting to get antsy, your thoughts running a million miles per hour. All you can think about is wanting to feel Beomgyu inside you again. 

Beomgyu gets out of the car walking over to the passenger side; he opens the door for you, taking your hand to guide you. This is probably the first time you’ve seen Beomgyu act so sweet. You mumble a thank you and smile softly to yourself. You could get used to this, you thought, hoping that this thing between you and Beomgyu is more than another hook-up. 

He takes a hold of your hand without saying another word, his fingers interlocking with your own. You squeeze his hand lightly signalling that you like it. He looks at you and with a meek smile, he looks shy, probably anticipating what's going to happen next. You both find your way to the elevator and your hands are still intertwined, he doesn’t want to let you go ever again. If the car ride here felt like forever, the elevator ride up was tenfold. You squirm while the elevator takes its time going up each floor. Your heart still feels like it's about to explode; until you hear that fateful ding indicating you’ve made it to your floor. 

Beomgyu is still holding your hand as you lead him to the front door of your apartment. You bend down slightly to put your code in, your stomach flips as you feel Beomgyu’s presence behind you. His breath fanning over the back of your neck; the proximity allows you to be engulfed in his scent. He smells sweet in the best way possible, it was intoxicating. You would want to be buried in his scent for as long as time allows. 

The door opens with a click, the two of you still holding hands; you pull him past the doorway and kiss him with more passion and vigour than the last time. His hands fly to your waist taking off your coat. Rapidly both your shoes and Beomgyu’s jacket come off in the process of making your way to your room. 

Your hand in his hair once again, tugging it just to hear the soft noises he makes as you do so. Suddenly, he has you against the door, his lips never leaving your skin. He's pressing hot kisses onto your neck making sure to leave marks where everyone could see. You let out soft sighs relishing in the feeling of him against you once again. Your hands are holding onto his biceps firmly, you know if you let go your legs would give out and you would fall to the floor.  While you grip onto him his hands start to leave your waist moving towards the button on your jeans. 

“I can’t get enough of you y/n.” Beomgyu whispers in your ear as he unbuttons your jeans. You can only keep kissing down his neck in response, nipping at his skin. Your pants fall to the floor and you're left in your lacy underwear. Beomgyu leaves your touch to take a good look at you, his eyes darkening with want. The prominent dick print on his jeans showing you how hard he is for you right now. The wetness between your legs is starting to become uncomfortable, now you're rubbing your thighs together to feel some sort of relief. 

You can’t help but look down to take a peek at the bulge in Beomgyu’s pants. Feeling excited, you turn towards the bed while taking his hand. You lead him to the bed, pushing on his chest lightly so he falls back onto the mattress. He takes off the rest of his clothes, patting his lap motioning for you to come and take a seat. You do as he says and sit on him, straddling him between your legs. He leans on his elbows enjoying the view. He sucks in a breath as he watches you take off your shirt, not wearing a bra underneath.

Beomgyu’s head is dizzy with thoughts of you, his imagination causing his dick to pulse within his boxers. Seemingly he’s had enough of your little show, ready to pound you till you cry. He brings you in for a kiss once again, loving the feeling of your hands on him. He doesn’t want this to be the last time he gets to touch you. He wants you to be his forever if it was possible. 

Your hand reaches down past his boxers and strokes his hard cock, rubbing the precum against his length to lubricate him. His grip on your waist tightens to the point that it will leave bruises, you don't care though. You love seeing how weak he gets when he is in your hands. He moans into the kiss, rutting his hips to stimulate the feeling even more. You keep kissing his face, his neck, anywhere you have access to. Your hand is still rubbing him up and down, he was so big that your hands looked tiny in comparison. 

Beomgyu’s had enough with your teasing, he flips you so your back is laying flat on the bed, ripping your underwear off with ease. His actions elicit a moan to escape your lips. His kisses start at your face and he slowly lowers himself down your body. Stopping at your breasts, massaging one while his mouth is wrapped around the other. You're moaning at the feeling, gasping as he grazes his teeth lightly against your sensitive nipples. You're writhing beneath him and he's barely even touched you. Your head is spinning and Beomgyu doesn’t have any plans to stop pleasuring you. 

Feeling satisfied with his work on your chest he finally situates himself between your legs. “Look at you, all wet already and I’ve barely even started.” He laughs into the heat of your glistening folds.   You're whining at this point, gripping on to his hair again trying to get him to finally touch you. He immediately shuts you up by giving you a quick slap on your core. You yelp and he's laughing again, looking up at you from between your thighs. Glaring  at him with your cheeks fully flushed. 

“Beomgyu I swear to god if you-oh.” Your sentence is cut short because Beomgyu lays a flat long strip against your cunt. He's licking up all your juices, groaning at the sweet taste of you. 

“Ah shit baby you taste so good” His groans are sending vibrations to you, leaving you moaning with your eyes squeezed shut with pleasure. He continues his ministrations licking you all up as if he's been starved for days. His nose is bumping into your clit and your hips are moving against his head trying to stimulate it even more. One of his hands is holding your hip down as the other is slithering its way to prod your entrance. You begin to see stars, the pleasure starting to become too much for you to handle. He inserts his long finger into your weeping pussy and the squelches of your wetness bounce off the walls alongside your moans. Your legs shake as they clench around Beomgyu’s head. Without a second thought he begins to suck your clit as his fingers are pumping in and out of you. 

“Don't stop please baby, I'm about to cum.” You say breathlessly and Beomgyu takes this as a sign to work harder. His fingers go in and out of you faster; his tongue giving your clit kitten licks all at the same time. You feel a rush come over your whole body, you're lightheaded and deciding to finally let go. Your moaning his name over and over, he continues to finger you diligently letting you ride out your high. 

“You’re so wet for me every single time, you only get like this for me don't you darling?” Beomgyu’s looking at you, all the while you're still trying to catch your breath from your orgasm. Beomgyu quickly shifts into a position where you and him are face to face, your legs now around his hips. You whine still feeling sensitive and he grabs you by the neck pushing your face closer to his. “Answer me properly y/n.” 

“Yes its only for y-you, please Beomgyu I want you to fuck me.” You’re begging him and he laughs at you. 

“Look at you. You’re crying ‘cause you want my cock that bad?” the grip tightens around your neck and you start to feel that familiar fuzzy feeling. 

“Yes please please please, I want it so bad. I want your cock inside me please.” Your gasping, trying hard to speak properly with his hand still clasped around your neck. 

“Good. No ones going to fuck you like I do. Not even Soobin.” He removes his hands from your neck letting one settle on your thigh, holding it up to wrap around his waist. Beomgyu’s actions are excruciatingly slow as he grabs his cock, lining it up with the entrance of your soaking cunt. A frustrated whine leaves your mouth and you're moving your hips to try and feel some sort of stimulation. Beomgyu slaps your thigh hard in response, leaving a red mark which rightfully shuts you up. His length is now rubbing up and down your folds, bumping into your clit ever so slightly. 

Grabbing onto his biceps, your head lolls back. There's a moan bubbling up your throat and it's cut off abruptly by the feeling of Beomgyu shoving his entire cock inside you. Your soft moan has now turned into a high pitched scream. You can’t seem to get enough of his cock. The way it fills your walls deliciously; his dick kissing your cervix with every thrust so easily. You stare at him, your mouth agape. “Faster please Gyu, feels so good.” 

Beomgyu doesn’t have to be told twice, his thrusts gaining speeds as he fucks you like he hasn’t felt your touch for a million years. The headboard is banging against the wall and the sound of skin slapping echoes around your room. He can’t help but admire the way you look underneath him. He thinks you look so pretty when you’re taking his cock so well. Happily thrusting into you, knowing that he’s here fucking you dumb instead of that loser Soobin. Beomgyu whole-heartedly believes that your pussy feels like it was made only for him, the tightness of your gummy walls sending him into overdrive. 

The moans that leave your mouth as he slides in and out of you is like music to his ears. He slows his thrusts, moving your legs to place them against his shoulders, fucking you in a new angle. The new position has you moaning louder than before. Thrusting faster now-Beomgyu is hitting that angle inside you that drives you crazy. The wet sounds coming from him fucking you increases in volume, the feeling leaving you drooling and a hot mess under his touch. 

“Gyu I’m gonna cum again please keep going.” breathlessly you can't help but beg for more. If it was possible you would ask Beomgyu to fuck you all night long. 

You’re heat is clenching around him tighter with each long thrust that he takes. He loves to stare down in between you two, seeing him slide in out of you so easily. The white ring of your cum covering the hilt of his cock. It drives him absolutely insane. You drive him absolutely insane, and he knows for sure that he can’t let you leave. 

“Your pussy is so fucking good baby, I wanna be inside you forever.” Beomgyu says, pushing your legs till they're folded against your chest. The position burns but the feeling of his cock inside you mixes with the pain. If you died tomorrow you would die a happy girl. You were practically in heaven with the way Beomgyu was fucking you right now. If it was possible you wouldn’t need anything else but his cock. “‘M gonna cum, lemme cum inside you please.” 

You nod, looking at him with desperate eyes, not being able to speak. The pleasure is overtaking your senses and Beomgyu’s thrusts turn erratic. You clench around his cock, cumming for the second time tonight, and your own orgasm sends Beomgyu into his own.  His hot seed fills you up till it starts to leak out of you. You love the feeling of his dick twitching inside you, and the way his cum makes you feel full. Beomgyu doesn’t remove himself from you, instead he kisses your forehead, his dick resting peacefully in your heat. 

“You’re such a good little slut aren't you. Always taking me so well.” He mumbles, your legs now around his waist, his face buried into the side of your neck. He gives you kisses while running his hands up and down your thighs soothing you.

“I only want you Gyu, no one else. Not Soobin. You.” You’re reassuring him, jealous Beomgyu filling your mind now. Although you find it hot when he’s jealous, it was also scary to see how much he's capable of. 

 “Good. I only want you too.” 

  Your hands run through his hair, planting a soft kiss on the top of his head. He looks up at you, completely mesmerized by how beautiful you look after he fucked you so good. Beomgyu wants to be able to see you in this light more than just once, forever, if possible. The after sex glow and lightly flushed cheeks has his dick twitching inside you. Giggling, you clench around him to show that you’re up for another round. 

“Dont you dare do that again, or im fucking you till you cant take any more of me.” He warns, his voice is low and his eyes are filled with the same aforementioned lust. You laugh at him and repeat the action. This is going to be a long night, you think to yourself. Fed up with your teasing, Beomgyu flips you over onto your stomach. Harshly inserting himself in you again, giving your ass a sharp slap. 

end  ˖ ࣪ ꒷ ࣪˖

© wonustars

[formulapookie]

Beznaia and 16 <3

16. accidental “I love you” during sex

Bez feels caged between the mattress and Pecco’s body, he’s short of breath with the way they’ve been kissing for the past minutes, and for Pecco getting hard against his thigh.

The hold he has on Bez’s mind is something Bez would very much like to study, because he may be doing whatever, but if Pecco calls him, or if they find themselves at a house party, and Pecco takes him by the hand to drag him in a secluded room Bez answers, rapid, complies to Pecco’s every request, which for the majority of the times is just to be pretty for him and get fucked.

And he loves it.

But he also loves Pecco and Pecco very clearly doesn’t reciprocate the feelings, he’s not one to bond, but Bez is lucky enough to have something that obviously goes beyond normal friendship.

He gets to have Pecco’s hot mouth pressed against his, the desperate whines of the older man moaning in his ears when he’s close, the harsh pace of his thrusts and the kind aftercare.

He gets to have his jealousy, his lust and need.

He gets to have Pecco be nice and soft or absolutely rough and sharp when he needs one of the two versions of him.

He gets to moan Pecco’s name covered by the sheets of his bed, gets to scream his name when they’re far from everyone and they can do this not caring about who can hear them.

Gets also to be like this, back against the soft mattress in a random hotel room they got just to fuck and Pecco biting at his neck, slowly making his way down to his pierced nipple.

Pecco likes teasing him he found out, especially about that fucking jewel.

“Pecco ah - just fuck me”

“And where would the fun be in that? I wouldn’t hear your pretty little whimpers when I do this”

And the bastard picks at the nipple with his teeth, making Bez cry out a moan and cover his mouth with a hand.

“No Bez no covering your sounds you know it, I want to hear you desperate for me”

“Then get on with it and fuck me”

“Oh feeling entitled are we? I’ll have to fuck the attitude out of you then yes?”

Pecco sucks at his nipple, the feeling of metal sliding against the back of his teeth present and heavy.

“Ah fuck you”

“Other way around Marco”

Pecco takes off Bez’s boxers, lifting one of his legs up in the meantime, seeing how affected he already is.

Precum smeared all over his dick, which is hard and of a soft red.

“Pretty”

Bez tries not to see this as a confirmation of feelings, tries so hard to keep his love at bay.

He blinks once and there’s two fingers in front of his mouth, waiting for him to act on his need.

He takes the in, coating them with spit, saliva and arousal.

“Your mouth is made to do this Marco you know? I always have to fight myself not to cum the second i start fucking it”

Once Pecco deems the fingers to be wet enough he takes them out Bez’s mouth and quickly gets them close to his hole.

“Come on”

Pecco pushes in, two fingers, no sweetness in this.

They kiss again, charged with lust, as Pecco fingers him open quick and precise.

The soft whimpers coming from Bez are like a drug to Pecco’s brain, he wants to hear more, always more when it’s Bez.

More kisses, more sex, more touch, more time, more love.

When he adds a third finger they both know it’s not gonna be long before Pecco will finally thrust into Bez and have him moan his name.

“Fu-uck there yes”

Bez is always so sensitive once Pecco has him pinned down, no matter if he hasn’t been fucked in weeks or hours, when he holds him down like this it’s over.

Pecco gets to kiss at the juncture of his neck, demanding, rude.

“Let me- let me ride you” and Bez knows he’s asking for the right thing, Pecco is always so horny for him when he does it, hands running up his waist and hips, mouth against his chest leaving pretty dark bruises all over it.

Pecco lets go of Bez and finds a comfortable position, the other is quick to go sit on his lap, making out messy and rushed, cocks brushing against each other.

“Don’t tease Marco”

“You like it when I tease you”

“I like it when you ride me until you’re stupid from it”

And fuck that shit is hot.

Pecco talking, it’s always been Bez’s favourite thing. Well ok maybe after actually getting fucked stupid by him, but it’s a very strong second place.

He wastes no time in aligning himself with Pecco’s dick and sinking down on it, biting his lower lip to try and quieten down a bit.

But when he feels a strong grip on his jaw and meets Pecco’s eyes, charged with lust, he lets go, letting out the sweet moans Pecco loves so much.

“Look how well you take me”

And Bez just looses it, starts bouncing on his cock moaning louder and louder, he wants Pecco to think only about him, always, like he does.

Wants Pecco to be so desperate for him to go and drag him away from conversations just to fuck him.

“ah it’s so good Pecco fuck so good”

“Don’t stop don’t stop”

And Bez has no intention of doing that, he’s far too horny for this to be over so quickly, and he enjoys seeing Pecco helpless and needy so much.

Pecco’s hands begin to wonder on his hips, drawing imaginary patterns on them, as Bez keeps on with his rhythm and little moans.

As always, Pecco is quick to bury his face in Bez’s chest, kissing and biting at the skin there, leaving a mark just above the pierced nipple he loves to tease so much and moving to suck a hickey on the lower part of Bez’s neck.

It’s the closest thing he got to love, the marking, the claiming.

It’s not the gentle type of love he wishes for but it’s all he got.

“You should see yourself right now Marco, you look so pretty for me, feel so good”

“Tell me again fuck tell me again I’m good please”

Pecco leans in closer to Bez’s ear, sucking another bruise under his jaw.

“You’re so good for me, so fucking good Marco, my good boy”

Bez moans out loud, his movements becoming more irregular as the minutes pass, Pecco knows he’s close now.

It’s a moment of weakness, one second where his brain turns off, just pure pleasure taking over, and he says it, so close to his orgasm it hurts.

“I love you”

Pecco lets go of his neck, Bez can feel his body freezing.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck he ruined it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t - I’m sorry Pecco don’t hate me please I-“

“Say it again”

“What?”

“Say it again, what you said just now”

“I love you?”

There’s a moment of silence, calculations, which to Bez seems to last hours.

Then Pecco’s lips are on his, in a messy but sweet kiss, his hand moving from his hip to Bez’s dick, stroking it fast as Pecco moves to fuck into him that much he needs to come with a grunt inside him, and keeps jerking Bez off until he lets out a high pitched moan and comes over Pecco’s fist, still kissing him.

When Pecco breaks the kiss to get some oxygen his eyes meet those of a confused and surprised Bez, who’s just staring at him with deer-like eyes.

“Why did you - Pecco what does it mean?”

“It means we’re both really fucking stupid and have been really fucking stupid for a while”

“I don’t get it Pecco why did you do that?”

“Ok you’re the stupidest one between in two then, got it”

There’s another moment of pause, Bez is still looking at him helplessly.

“You said you loved me yes?”

“Yeah” Bez blushes up to his ears, a little something Pecco finds incredibly cute.

“And then I kissed you right?”

“I uh yeah you did”

“So?”

“I don’t kno- ooooooh”

Pecco can actually see Bez’s brain working to get the answer out.

“You- Pecco you love me too?”

“Have been doing that for more than a year”

“Mora than a - God we’re stupid”

“I like my men stupid”

Bez blushes again, then tentatively closes the gap between them two.

This time the kiss is soft, not charged or anything, it’s just for them, reassurance, it tastes like a new day.

“Marco”

“Mh?”

“I love you”

And Bez smiles so brightly Pecco could be blinded by it, but he doesn’t care, he just wants to hold and kiss this boy for eternity.

SMUT PROMPTS

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝕴'𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖑𝖜𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖇𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖆 𝖋𝖆𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖐𝖘

Billy burn x gender neutral reader

There has been lately a Billy fever on tumblr and I’ll take the opportunity to post this little though that came to my mind a week ago ｡^‿^｡ Thank you for all the likes and reblogs on my Derek danforth fic, I really appreciate it.

Summary: Billy has taken his revenge on Melinda and escaped safely the gas station before it could explode, but he wasn’t expecting the police to be there shortly after the explosion. Now behind the bars of a police station all he can do is hope for your help.

You can also read this on wattpad or ao3

Warnings: gender neutral reader (let me know if I missed something). English is not my first language so apologies for bad grammar. Reader and Billy are engaged. Make out. Angst with happy ending. Pretending to argue. Badass reader

Words count: 1621 words

The room of the police station was cold and neon-lit. With your eyes swollen from crying, you sat in front of the policeman. His heart sank as he tried to find the right words.

“You were the only person he said he wanted to be here. He has been arrested for attempted robbery at a gas station. What’s your relationship with the criminal?”

“He's my husband. They arrested him for attempted robbery? I can't believe it.”

“Calm down, please. This is the first time that he has been arrested?”

“No” you sobbed with a tissue covering your mouth. “He promised me that it would have been the last time he would do something illegal”

The deputy took notes, his face serious.

“What exactly happened? How was he involved? Did he hurt someone?”

“We are still investigating the matter, your husband still hasn’t talked to me and all we have is just a gas station completely on fire and two carbonized corpses. We will do everything we can to find out the truth.”

You nodded, wiping your eyes from the tears that kept spilling from your eyes.

The deputy passed a hand over his shapid beard. He had seen so many similar stories, young lives destroyed by drugs and crime. But you looked different. Your eyes were full of innocence and hope, and his pale face was marked with sadness.

“I understand it’s hard to accept,” He said. “But we have to do our job. Billy will be tried and will have a chance to defend himself. In the meantime, we will try to find out if there are other people involved.”

You stood up, your legs wobbly. “Can I see him? Can I talk to him?”

The deputy nodded. “Yes, of course. He is in the detention cell. Don’t stand too close to the bars.” Was all he said before going back to his computer.

Deputy Colone is hunched over his desk, doing what he hates most, filling out reports. All his colleagues out while he was forced to stay here to fill out paperwork. He glances up at Billy, then over at you. Satisfied, he returns to his shitwork.

Seated across the room, you appears to be idly sketching something on a large pad present on the desk.

Billy sits on his jail’s cot, head in hands, hopeless.

He waves for your attention.

You looks up at the deputy, still writing on the desk, then over at Billy.

“You’re not gonna pay the bail?” He whispered with a hint of impatience, his right leg bouncing up and down as he kept stealing glances at the deputy.

“So you can do another impulsive act and get caught again?”

The little control he has over his anger is already running out.

Billy gets up off his cot, pacing back and forth inside the small cage stressed over your behavior. He eyes the deputy, then you. You flips a page over, and starts to really write.

“What are ya drawin’?”

The deputy looks up, irritated by the noise and by how he kept treating you.

Billy grabs the cell bars and lean against them.

“Hey, pipe down, cowboy”

“I was just curious about what they were drawing”

You holds it up for Billy to see.

“There. Happy now?”

You throws the sketch pad at him, crossing your arms while looking down at the floor. It bounces off the bars.

He reaches down, grabs it, and pulls it into his cell.

You stands up defiantly as he read everything. Wrath more and more visible all over his face.

“Okay, give it back to me” you extended your hand impatiently.

“Why you wanna sell your engagement ring?” He hissed through clenched teeth.

“Simple, I can’t stand you anymore! This is the umpteenth time you do things behind my back and make trouble. This time it was for an attempted robbery. And you know what? I’m so done with your bullshit”

“So you just wanna leave everything behind you? Sell the wedding ring?”

“Why do you even give that much importance to it? Billy, it’s just a piece of metal with a diamond that you stole! I don’t want to be associated with all of this anymore!”

He squeezed his fists, trying not to completely explode with anger, refusing to speak with you.

You stood up from your seat and approached him, taking the shining and beautiful ring he choose only for you. “And what does it represent now? A man who can’t keep himself out of trouble? I don’t want to be tied to you this way anymore. When there’s always a chance that I could find you dead because you messed with the wrong people in search of money. I want to sell that faith and use the money to start over”

“Okay fine. Do as you fucking wish” he took the piece of metal around his own finger. “Come and get it, so I won’t see your face ever again.” His raised a fist and crashed it agaist the bar. “But remember that it’s not just a piece of metal. It’s a fucking symbol of what we were and what we could be, but you’re too much of a fucking idiot to realize that” It’s a cry of anger the one he unleashed, lacerating and wild, hovering in the air, like a swooping hawk.

The deputy is really getting pissed at the constant shouting.

“Bastard, if you don’t stop yellin-“ he stood up from his seat.

You were already in front of the cell. you reaches through the bars for the ring.

“Finally you made a good decision in your life. Give it to me, idiot”

He grabs your arm, pulls you to the bars, and starts kissing you passionately. The more you struggles, the tighter he envelops you.

Your eyes close, and your lips never separate. The kiss is hungry, passionate, and the world around you two fades. You gets lost in Billy’s kisses, and your heart beats hard in your chest. It’s like time stands still, and all that matters is that connection between the two of you. Your lips only separate for a moment to catch a quick breath, only to come back together with even more desire.

The deputy races across the room. Awkwardly, he grapples to separate you two. He rudely detach Billy’s hand from your waist before shoving him away.

Your hand secretly reaches down and pulls the gun from the deputy’s holster.

As he turns to face you, a red laser dot appears on the tip of his nose.

He is shocked.

“Let him out of there.”

You point the laser-scoped revolver right at him. You definitely means business. All the innocence that you previously had now vanished, replaced by a smirk he saw on many criminals’ faces.

The suddenness of the betrayal hits like a physical blow.

Even the most beautiful roses have thorns.

Bully chuckles in disbelief from behind him.

“Hey, don’t clown around with th-“ the deputy tries to take back control of the situation but the click of the security being removed silenced him. Fear grips his chest.

You did just as your lovely husband has taught you, and kept holding the gun dead-steady.

“I ain’t the one with the funny red nose. Now open the cell and exchange places with him” .you put your finger on the trigger. “Now”

Billy had a huge grin of satisfaction on his face, enjoying this too deeply

that’s my good boy

“Better do as they says, ‘cause wherever the red dot goes, a bullet is sure to follow.”

The deputy reluctantly removes his keys and turns toward Billy.

The rusty door opens, creaking loudly as it is set to 90 degrees, enough to allow Billy out. A cocky grin on his face as he steps outside and shoved the useless deputy inside but not before confiscating his radio.

You lowered the gun and went back towards the office to delete all the files that the deputy has written about the arrest of your husband, the computer still open. You tore apart the reports and heard the satisfying sound of paper behind disintegrate and deleted all the recording made by the cameras in the last 24 hours.

A small yell of surprise came from your lips as you were lifted from the ground and landed on the desk in front of you, the culprit had already his arms around you and 2 new guns on both of his sides as he stared lustily at you mouth.

“You never stop surprising me” your foreheads were touching and you felt his warm breath on your face.

“I’ve always been a fan of masks” You replied breathlessly, caressing the side of his cheek and feeling the pungent feeling of his stubble under your touch.

Warmth blossomed in your chest, sparks igniting as Billy leaned in close, lips brushing together. His lips mashed against yours, as if trying to flatten and destroy your mouth. You hungrily pushed back, your mouth open, tongue pushing past his clenched teeth to the moist space within. The bristles of his stubble scratched against your cheeks. He worked his mouth against yours, your tongues battling back and forth like wrestlers, each trying to pin the other.

“Quick now. Let’s run away in another state” you lightly pushed him away, ignoring his small whine as you jumped back on your feet and went towards the exit of this stupid police office.

He checked you out with a smirk as he followed behind you, a plan of how he could show his gratitude to you already in his mind.

Note: hope you liked this as much as I had fun writing everything <3

[idklmaoooo]

Not some Tanjiro thoughts I had while watching S2-

Warnings: mild S2 spoilers(even tho I haven’t even finished it) spanking, mommy kink, reader is gn aside from the mommy thing, humiliation, decraphilia?, submissive Tanjiro Kamado

Pls give me some feedback, and tell me if I should make this an actual fic(would probably end up a fair bit different, but still the sub!Tanjiro idea, would be fem reader) or tell me if I should make a part 2 to this

Not proofread

Word count: 1099

-he works under you

-maybe while he’s in the entertainment district, you rent his services as an art model, thinking he’s a girl(definitely), but when you make him take off his kimono, you knew he was a boy posing as a girl when you saw him, but you expected there to be a longer process of you teasing and tormenting him, that he would try harder to keep his secret, while his voice gave it away so quickly, but at least he seemed so shy about showing you his body, not typical behaviour of someone in the entertainment district

-he’s such a pretty baby, but such a bad boy for tricking you like this, pls don’t punish him, show him some mercy please, but the way he acts towards you says the complete opposite, as he wiggles his cute little hips, obeying you fully

-please, he’s begging you to not punish him, he promises to be a good boy, and admits that he practically tripped on his kimono falling for you the moment he saw you, that he wants to be with you, wants you to fuck him like he’s a good boy

-he doesn’t even recognize his ramblings until it’s too late, his eyes widen when he realizes he asked you to make love with him out loud, not only that, but he also let you see his biggest turn ons, but he thought he had saved himself a little by not really letting on that he wanted to be punished

-but the poor bby let that out too when you turned him over and bent him over the back of a couch/chair(like one of those one seat lounge chairs- unless you want to image otherwise)

-he gasped “spank me!” Without thinking, poor boy didn’t even have time to catch himself, is he already slipping out of his tough demour?

-pls be gentle on him 🥺🙏

-except that’s the last thing he wants, he wants to be broken, he wants to not be able to sit for a week, and have the humiliation of trying to make an excuse over it for the next week, he wants to see bruises for days, markings and proof that he’s yours, reminders he was a bad boy but also that you love him

-pls give that to this pretty boy, he needs to be spanked out of his right mind, but also be coddled and loved like he hasn’t been able to for years

-don’t even get me started on how cutely humiliated he feels with a skirt on, when you pull it up and leave it to rest on his lower back, reminding him how he’s in a skirt, pathetic for a boy if you ask him, but that’s why he loves it, he wants to be able to embrace feeling ‘not enough’ for once, but can also know that you love it when he’s like that

-pls date him and marry him after this, he needs it, he needs you, he needs your cuddles, and your kisses, and mommy’s spanks, pls give them all to him

-did I mention that he likes edging? He brags about his demon slayer stamina, but you’ll know him down a peg or two soon enough, when you leave him breathless within only edging him a few times

-can this pretty little boy really not hold to his word? He also promised to not cum until you say so, but at your fourth go at edging him, he cums within seconds of saying he can hold on for a few minutes more, such a naughty boy

-guess you have to tie something around his dick, or put a chastity cage on if, maybe then he’ll learn his lesson

-after the entertainment district arc, he comes back to you, and you two become openly official, now that he isn’t posing as a girl

-I also forgot to mention how much this man will work for you, when he isn’t busy he’ll be constantly asking for things to do, even when he knows he’s not supposed to, you told him that if he’d ask for work to do one more time while on a break that day, you’d make him beat his own ass a bright cherry red, but here he was again, on his knees in front of you, while still on his break, asking you for a task, you were secretly starting to crack until his adorable gaze, but you have to hold to your word

-but then it gets better, watching him bend over a table in front of you, bare ass in the air, holding a wooden spoon you never asked him to get, trying his hardest to spank his own ass like a good boy. He’s supposed to give himself 20 spanks, and if he doesn’t behave and count them properly, he’ll have to start over, but if he loses count more than 3 times, you’ll give him 30 spanks yourself, along with a different punishment

-he looks so cute, he really is trying so hard, you can see the concentration in his eyes. The first time, he doesn’t lose count until 10, when he gasps in pleasure and his mind seems to reset, then he lost count at 7, then at 5, and when he only gets to 3 the fourth attempt, you grab the spoon from him and push him fully onto the table(via pushing his head down) and whoop his ass a beet red, asking him to count was too much at this point, so you keep count instead, tears streaming down his face when you get to 30, but he’s not necessarily crying from the pain.

-you make him stand up and look down at him(if ur short your wearing heels, let’s be real the boy is only 5’5 so heels can give you that sexy intimidating height difference this good subby boi deserves)

-you wipe the tears from his eyes, asking him if it really hurt that much

“N-*sniffle* no…” he says, putting his head against your chest(or the crook of your neck) “but… I couldn’t be a good boy for you, I was a bad boy…” he says, and the pieces click. He was crying from humiliation, you thought you went too far until you felt a force against your thy

-“I’m sorry Tanjiro, was that too much for my baby?” You ask, pulling his head back to kiss the rest of his tears away. You knew he wanted more, but you wanted to hear it from him.

[angelfishofthelord]

haunted, like every other holy thing

for @horrornaturalevent week 4 swap prompt: haunt

Alternate s9. Cas is captured by angels as soon as he falls. He's different by the time Dean and Sam and Charlie find him.

CW: food, vomiting, body horror

It’s almost six weeks after that hospital phone call that Dean finally sees Cas again. He’s been mentally preparing himself that Cas isn’t going to look the same: he’s human now (as if the body will be physically warped from the enormity of that transition), but he’s also been held captive by angels. Dean has tried hard to stop himself from picturing what they might be doing to him. He’s kept the predominant vision in his mind of a Cas who is alive.

And he isn’t wrong.

Cas stares up at him and Sam and Charlie (who’s breathing heavily, shakily, right by his ear). His blue eyes are a washed out hue, not even brightened by the contrast of the dull iron bars he’s peering through. The ex-angel is crouched in what looks like a huge kennel for one of those short-haired, bad-tempered type dogs. A Rottweiler or Great Dane. There’s a plastic water bottle with a small tube tied with wire to the top of the cage. Something a hamster or parrot would sip from. Patches of beige trench coat and white shirt fabric are stuck so tightly with the grime all over Cas’ body that it looks like his clothes have melted into his skin.

Charlie is trying her best not to cry when she slips an arm around Cas’ waist to steady him as he crawls out of the cage. Dean figures he probably hasn’t walked in weeks; he’s trying to stand as firm and proud as he can, but his ankles are protesting the reality of the situation.

All three of them end up supporting him in a strange sideways gait back to the car, like some fucked-up three-legged race.

Sam grabs a water bottle and a towel and Dean skims his hands over Cas’ body, looking for open wounds or infected lesions. He’s so severely underweight that Dean is afraid to press on his protruding bones and hurt him. Dean exhales slightly when he finds no noticeable injuries (bruises litter his body like weeds in a garden, but he’s not bleeding anywhere). They can skip a stop at the hospital and take him straight back to the Bunker. Back home.

Charlie sits in the backseat and unwraps a piece of cold French toast from the diner that morning and rips off small pieces to give Cas. Something Sam said about not letting him eat or drink too much at first or it’ll be a shock to his system. Cas figures each morsel of bread between his dirty fingertips before slowly pushing it between his teeth.

The angels who did this are nowhere to be seen. Dean temporarily puts out the fire in his chest that’s burning for justice. They’ll find the bastards when Cas is strong enough to eviscerate them with his own two hands.

+

Charlie makes chicken soup from scratch, with a whole real chicken. Dean is almost fascinated to watch her pull the rubbery skin off the bulb-shaped legs and crack the ribcage open with a knife. Sam adds cilantro, diced potatoes, carrots and celery to the stock. Dean gazes at the magical process for a few moments longer before going to see if Cas is finished his shower.

Cas is sitting on the edge of the bed in the infirmary, wearing just his boxers, elbows on his knees.

Dean tries hard not to react visibly to the sight of his emaciated body. Cas’ ribs stick out from under his skin like metal wires. His toes look more like a Halloween costume fixture than actual toes. There’s no amount of loose fabric from oversized t shirts and sweat pants that can hide the way his collarbone juts out or the sunken hollows around his eyes.

He feels so small when Dean helps him pull a sweater over his head. Like Dean could move too brusquely and his entire skeleton would collapse. “I’m sorry,” Dean murmurs over the swish of knitted strands.

Cas pulls the sweater sleeves over his wrists and then leans into Dean. His elbows burrow into Dean’s belly like the hilt of a sword ramming into his gut. (It’s hard to breathe.) Dean hugs him closer anyways.

They all sit and watch him try the chicken soup. Like it’s some potion that will cure all, the way storybook grandmothers always promised it would.

Cas grimaces and holds his nose while slurping the first spoonful. Charlie laughs softly and tells him its just smoke from the heat. It won’t hurt him. He doesn’t look very appeased but he lowers his hand for the next sip. His expression relaxes slightly and he says he likes the smell of the cilantro. Sam smiles hopefully.

Then Cas’ lips suddenly curl upwards and his eyes wide in horror. Before Dean can ask why he’s shoving back the chair and spitting something out on the table before stumbling backwards. His knees are knocking into each other hard, hands fumbling frantically against the wall he’s sliding down.

The three of them jump up at the same time. Charlie grabs the bowl, exclaiming how there’s nothing wrong with it. Sam goes to Cas’ side to help steady him and Dean stares at the offending thing sitting in a pool of thick saliva next to the spoon.

It’s just a chicken bone.

+

Cas keeps biting his lower lip. Dean doesn’t know if it’s a new habit or not (he never got see Cas as human before the torture). He tells Cas to stop whenever he sees it, but it clearly happens when he’s not around, and frequently, because Cas’ lip is starting to look like a discolored strip of raw meat and dark blood stains.

Charlie buys different flavors of lip balm online and has Cas try each one to find the kind he likes.

“Put it on whenever you want to bite it,” she says, buying several extra tubes of Burt’s Bees so he can put one in each pocket of his clothes.

She keeps buying things for him. She tells Dean she doesn’t know what it’s like to be human for the first time, but it’s gotta require lots of things you never needed before. Dean doesn’t think miniature hand sanitizers, waterproof phone covers, or a matching pillowcase and duvet set is going to help Cas forget that he was tortured for weeks by his own siblings, but he lets her do it anyways.

Sam reads books on dieting and How to Help Your Ex-Angel With a Very Picky Appetite Gain Weight.

Foods Cas refuses to eat include chicken wings, hamburgers, hamburgers, hot dogs, and hamburgers.

Dean tries not to be frustrated with Cas. It’s only been a few weeks. A few weeks of watching at Cas’ haunted figure wobbling around the Bunker and knowing there’s nothing he can do to fix it. He can’t even cook for him, which is normally his winning move in mother-henning the infirm back to life.

Foods Cas likes to eat includes cereal, milk, and bread. Chocolate bars and French fries were soundly rejected.

Dean wonders if part of the angel’s torture was to give Cas the best fast food ever so he’d develop an aversion to it for the rest of his life.

It’s almost six weeks after that hospital phone call that Dean finally sees Cas again. He’s been mentally preparing himself that Cas isn’t going to look the same: he’s human now (as if the body will be physically warped from the enormity of that transition), but he’s also been held captive by angels. Dean has tried hard to stop himself from picturing what they might be doing to him. He’s kept the predominant vision in his mind of a Cas who is alive.

And he isn’t wrong.

Cas stares up at him and Sam and Charlie (who’s breathing heavily, shakily, right by his ear). His blue eyes are a washed out hue, not even brightened by the contrast of the dull iron bars he’s peering through. The ex-angel is crouched in what looks like a huge kennel for one of those short-haired, bad-tempered type dogs. A Rottweiler or Great Dane. There’s a plastic water bottle with a small tube tied with wire to the top of the cage. Something a hamster or parrot would sip from. Patches of beige trench coat and white shirt fabric are stuck so tightly with the grime all over Cas’ body that it looks like his clothes have melted into his skin.

Dean almost topples the cage over in his frantic attempt to get Cas out of there.

Charlie is trying her best not to cry when she slips an arm around Cas’ waist to steady him as he crawls out. Dean figures he probably hasn’t walked in weeks; he’s trying to stand as firm and proud as he can, but his ankles are protesting the reality of the situation.

All three of them end up supporting him in a strange sideways gait back to the car, like some fucked-up three-legged race.

Sam grabs a water bottle and a towel and Dean skims his hands over Cas’ body, looking for open wounds or infected lesions. He’s so severely underweight that Dean is afraid to press on his protruding bones and hurt him. Dean exhales slightly when he finds no noticeable injuries (bruises litter his body like weeds in a garden, but he’s not bleeding anywhere). They can skip a stop at the hospital and take him straight back to the Bunker. Back home.

Charlie sits in the backseat and unwraps a piece of cold French toast from the diner that morning and rips off small pieces to give Cas. Something Sam said about not letting him eat or drink too much at first or it’ll be a shock to his system. Cas figures each morsel of bread between his dirty fingertips before slowly pushing it between his teeth.

The angels who did this are nowhere to be seen. Dean temporarily puts out the fire in his chest that’s burning for justice. They’ll find the bastards when Cas is strong enough to eviscerate them with his own two hands.

+

Charlie makes chicken soup from scratch, with a whole real chicken. Dean is almost fascinated to watch her pull the rubbery skin off the bulb-shaped legs and crack the ribcage open with a knife. Sam adds cilantro, diced potatoes, carrots and celery to the stock. Dean gazes at the magical process for a few moments longer before going to see if Cas is finished his shower.

Cas is sitting on the edge of the bed in the infirmary, wearing just his boxers, elbows on his knees.

Dean tries hard not to react visibly to the sight of his emaciated body. Cas’ ribs stick out from under his skin like metal wires. His toes look more like a Halloween costume fixture than actual toes. There’s no amount of loose fabric from oversized t shirts and sweat pants that can hide the way his collarbone juts out or the sunken hollows around his eyes.

He feels so small when Dean helps him pull a sweater over his head. Like Dean could move too brusquely and his entire skeleton would collapse. “I’m sorry,” Dean murmurs over the swish of knitted strands.

Cas pulls the sweater sleeves over his wrists and then leans into Dean. His elbows burrow into Dean’s belly like the hilt of a sword ramming into his gut. (It’s hard to breathe.) Dean hugs him closer anyways.

They all sit and watch him try the chicken soup. Like it’s some potion that will cure all, the way storybook grandmothers always promised it would.

Cas grimaces and holds his nose while slurping the first spoonful. Charlie laughs softly and tells him its just smoke from the heat. It won’t hurt him. He doesn’t look very appeased but he lowers his hand for the next sip. His expression relaxes slightly and he says he likes the smell of the cilantro. Sam smiles hopefully.

Then Cas’ lips suddenly curl upwards and his eyes wide in horror. Before Dean can ask why he’s shoving back the chair and spitting something out on the table before stumbling backwards. His knees are knocking into each other hard, hands fumbling frantically against the wall he’s sliding down.

The three of them jump up at the same time. Charlie grabs the bowl, exclaiming how there’s nothing wrong with it. Sam goes to Cas’ side to help steady him and Dean stares at the offending thing sitting in a pool of thick saliva next to the spoon.

It’s just a chicken bone.

+

Cas keeps biting his lower lip. Dean doesn’t know if it’s a new habit or not (he never got to see human Cas before the weeks of torture). He tells Cas to stop whenever he sees it, but it clearly happens when he’s not around, and frequently, because Cas’ lip is starting to look like a discolored strip of raw meat and dark blood stains.

Charlie buys different flavors of lip balm online and has Cas try each one to find the kind he likes.

“Put it on whenever you feel like biting your lips,” she says, buying several extra tubes of Burt’s Bees so he can put one in each pocket of his clothes.

She keeps buying things for him. She tells Dean she doesn’t know what it’s like to be human for the first time, but it’s gotta require lots of things you never needed before. Dean doesn’t think miniature hand sanitizers, waterproof phone covers, or a matching pillowcase and duvet set is going to help Cas forget that he was tortured for weeks by his own siblings, but he lets her do it anyways.

Sam reads books on dieting and How to Help Your Ex-Angel With a Very Picky Appetite Gain Weight.

Foods Cas refuses to eat include chicken wings, hamburgers, hamburgers, hot dogs, and hamburgers.

Dean tries not to be frustrated with Cas. It’s only been a few weeks. A few weeks of watching at Cas’ haunted figure wobbling around the Bunker and knowing there’s nothing he can do to fix it. He can’t even cook for him, which is normally his winning move in mother-henning the infirm back to life.

Foods Cas likes to eat includes cereal, milk, and bread. Chocolate bars and French fries were soundly rejected.

Dean wonders if part of the angel’s torture was to give Cas the best fast food ever so he’d develop an aversion to it for the rest of his life.

keep reading on aO3

[nemorialex]

It’d been a couple weeks, but also it’s been forever, or maybe just one day. At least that’s how it felt. Frenchie is hurt and laying in bed and the wounds are just as sore, the memory of those tense hours in the hospital just as fresh in the mind. But he hasn’t moved in ages. He’s in bed all day, every day, for eternity. 

Alex sat perched on the couch, leg bouncing and lip chewing nervous energy consuming them as they thought. There was a vaint jingle of keys and grumbling, then a rather violent kick of the door. Alex sprang to their feet, making Zack jump slightly. 

He readjusted his bags and rolled his eyes, ignoring them and heading to the kitchen. Alex hesitated for a moment before following

“So… Um…” They played with one of the buttons on their coat, unsure how to get to their point.

“What.” He didn’t bother turning around.

“Well, it’s, um…” They cleared their throat. “I'm going to the Temple today. My temple, that is… I-It’s been quite a bit, admittedly, and I really ought not to shirk these, particular, responsibilities again, you know.”

They let out a breathy chuckle, void of any joy. But then they let it linger.

“So.. Go?” He was clearly loosing patience.

“I just wanted to let you know first.” Is what tumbled out of their mouth in response, each word shoving the previous one out quicker. 

“Yeah, fine. Consider me informed.” He had paused his actions to hear them out, but now continued putting groceries away, as if the matter was solved now.

“… I know you’ve a lot to your plate at the moment-” They rushed their words again before he could cut them off. “-but, please take care of Frenchie.” 

He paused and turned his head slightly, just enough for them to see the stormy gray eye of their brother glaring at them.

“You know that I do…” Was it a statement? A threat? Or maybe even a question?

“No, I know, but-“ They sighed. “Just… Check in on him, please? Now and again? He’s sleeping for the moment, but, you know…?”

There was something thick and unpleasant left lingering in the air between the two. Zack had slowly set the jar in his hand down on the counter and he had his back fully turned again. Alex remained in the doorway, nervous but stubborn, unwilling to leave without a solid and verbal confirmation. 

“Yeah. Fine. What kind of bastard would I be if I didn’t?” 

The unpleasant something wasn’t completely vanquished, but it had retreated for the time being. Tensions in both the Miller’s shoulders eased slightly. Zack slowly returned to his task. Alex mumbled a quick and sincere “thank you” and left him to it before either of them regretted their next actions. 

Was this the right decision? Leaving Frenchie? Normally that’s a pretty condescending line of thought. Frenchie was more than capable of taking care of himself, he was a full grown adult with children and a husband and a lovely, stable life. Alex was just prone to fussing over him. But in his bed-ridden state he couldn’t take care of much, especially not in terms of staving off the boredom. 

Perhaps, a little selfishly, that’s the real reason they left. They didn’t care for the Temple for many, many reasons, but over the past couple of weeks they were starting to care even less about being cooped up in only a couple rooms. Even if it was for the love of their life. 

And imagine how he felt! He was stuck to one ROOM! Maybe two, if you count the bathroom. He was confined to a BED! And Alex was abandoning him… Their quick pace slowed slightly, but refused to stop. 

The thought of going back, of willingly caging themself with nothing to do while Zack insisted on doing all the chores and Frenchie slept the day away… It left a sour taste in their mouth. They looked up to the sky- bright blue with wispy streaks of clouds- and sucked in a very deep breath, shakily releasing it. The claustrophobic City with it’s bustling, far too many people on the street, never felt quite so open and refreshing. They rubbed their face with their hands, dragging fingers up through bangs and straightening them out for a moment before they bounced and curled back into place as they took yet another breath. 

Alright, focus. They’d had a point for leaving- not an excuse! A legitimate concern!- and just walking around feeling bad while not following through was worse than not just buckling down and following through. 

So they looked around to gather their barings and continued their pace. Not long now they’d be out of the city, and not long after that they’d be at the wooden doors of the Temple of the Knight of Space, buried under a grassy hill full of holes in the earth. It was like some sort of molded swiss cheese, or like a rotting corpse with the colums seen from outside like bones tearing through weak old pelts.

It didn’t look like that for others, though. Alex was struggling to see it as anything more than an oppressive, daunting task to take care of. Others saw the earthy hill as a shelter, and the various skylights and balconies like a breath of fresh air. The doors weren’t an angry, hungry maw but a welcoming embrace. The stone animals within weren’t watchful predators but gentle companions. People found comfort and community here… Or at least they did, before. And Alex had a responsibility to right their wrongs and attempt to make it safe for them again.

[dycefic]

The Trolley Problem

Again, sorry about the slow updates, but long Covid aside, as followers of my main Tumblr will have heard, my laptop keyboard is on its way out and typing is getting increasingly difficult. I've ordered a new wireless keyboard, but it hasn't arrived yet. 🙄

Anyway, back to the superhero universe! warnings for death, police, attempted murder, supervillainy, and ethical dilemmas. Also swearing.

#

“Choose,” the villain purred. She didn’t know his name. She was new, she hadn’t learned them all yet. “Who lives? Who dies? Who will you save, little hero?”

Flitter trembled. “I’m not making a choice,” she said, and her voice wasn’t as firm as she wanted it to be, even through the voice-changer. You’re gonna let both those cages down, nice and easy.” One cage full of nurses. One cage full of juvenile offenders. He’d said so, and she could see the scrubs and the jumpsuits for herself. He really wanted this to be a dilemma, and she didn’t know what to do, aside from telling him not to do it, and when did that ever work?

“Oh, I don’t think so.” He laughed at her, hands caressing the controls that suspended the two cages over the street forty floors below. She couldn’t remember his name! She recognized the costume, the jagged streaks of green and white and vivid yellow. This was a dangerous villain, the same guy who’d cut off both of Player One’s legs with some machine just a month ago, and she’d only been a cape for a couple of weeks, she wasn’t up to this guy’s weight in any way even with powers, and she couldn’t remember his name -

And then the villain’s head exploded. She saw it burst before she heard the sound of the gunshots, so they’d come from some distance away. There was red… stuff… all over the wall behind him, and as the body toppled she jumped forward to grab at the handles he’d been toying with - but it wasn’t necessary. Neither cage had moved.

She moved closer and wondered if she should check the body, but… the whole top two-thirds of the head was gone. Trying to take a pulse at this point would just be creepy and weird.

She was still trying to figure out the controls - and trying not to throw up, which was a terrible idea in a full-face mask - when she heard footsteps approaching. Boots. Not trying to be sneaky. The little sounds of clothing, including a creak of leather. When she looked up, she saw an older woman - maybe forty-five, maybe fifty. Not a costume, she was wearing regular clothes.

And, when she stepped into the light, Flitter saw the rifle slung on her back. “Did you…” Her voice quavered, and she cleared her throat a couple of times. “Did you shoot him?”

“Yup.” The woman didn’t sound concerned about it. “Move over.” With casual expertise, the older woman started pressing buttons and moving handles. The two cranes swung out, and the people in them made some noise, but in a few seconds, the cages were over the next roof and being lowered carefully until they hit the gravel with a crunch. “Never bring them down on the same roof, if you can help it, and don’t let them out right away. Useful tip. They’re going to freak out and you don’t need to deal with that. That’s what emergency responders are for.”

Flitter was shaking. “You… you killed him.”

The woman paused, then gave her a sort of sympathetic look. “First time seeing someone die up close?”

Flitter nodded, swallowing hard.

“You’ll get used to it.” The woman sighed. “They all do.” Then her eyes shifted, looking past Flitter, and she raised her voice. “Day late and a dollar short, Box.”

The Boxer was an old, old-school hero. He’d been active for more than eighty years and still looked exactly the same. Right now, his customary faint scowl had become a lot more pronounced. “God fucking damnit, you���re supposed to be in Delaware!”

“I came back to visit some old friends.” It was strange - the woman looked like a civilian, but she was talking to the Boxer like she knew him. Usually only capes did that. “Just happened to be in the area.”

“Bullshit you happened to be in the area!” The Boxer’s fists were clenching and unclenching. “How the hell did you… no, forget it, I know you’re not gonna tell me. How the hell do you still have a fucking sniper rifle?!”

“I don’t. This is for hunting.”

“How do you still have an open carry permit!?”

“I haven’t committed any crimes.”

The Boxer made an incoherent angry noise kind of like a dog growling, and Flitter pointed a shaking hand at the body of the villain whose name she still didn’t know. “You have now!”

The woman looked down at the body, then back up at the two heroes, and shrugged. “No, I haven’t.”

Flitter stared at her. The Boxer turned away to put his fist through the nearest wall. It was a brick wall. That didn’t seem to worry him.

“But… murder?” It came out like a question, and Flitter’s face felt hot under her mask.

“Not here in Vermont it’s not. In Vermont, which has a robust approach to self-defence laws since Dilemma went active thirty years ago here in Burlington, as long as my use of deadly force ‘was reasonably necessary to repel the perceived threat’, to myself or to a person or persons unable to defend themselves, it qualifies as self-defence and is not criminal.” The woman shrugged, smiling in a way that was more rueful than smug, despite her words. “In addition, the statutes regarding capes, super-powered persons, etcetera, article three stipulates that when a known and identified villain is threatening civilian persons, no non-powered person can be held to have used excessive force.”

“Article three was meant to cover the actions of police and military, and you know it!” The Boxer had moved up beside Flitter, and though he still sounded angry, the hand he laid on her shoulder was very gentle. “You okay, kid?”

“Yeah, mostly.”

“Shock. You might wanna get her a hot drink or something.” The woman gestured at the cages on the next roof. “And let them out, since you’re such a good guy.” She unslung the gun, laid it on the ground, and sat down on the edge of the roof a few feet away from it. “I’ve already called the cops. They should be here soon.” Her eyes narrowed. “And you still don’t prepare them for the trolley problem.”

“She’s been active for two weeks, and I’ve been busy!” The Boxer sounded a little angry… and, under it, guilty. “Player One got… retired… last month.”

“I heard.”

His voice softened. “Is that why you’re here?”

Hers didn’t. “Maybe.”

Flitter cleared her throat, half-raising one hand. “Uh…. What’s the trolley problem?”

“It’s a philosophical thing.” The Boxer shrugged. “One of those ethics word problems.”

“It’s also a go-to for the bad guys,” the woman said grimly. “They love it. ‘Choose between saving the kid or saving the world’, or ‘let me kill you and I’ll let the civilians go’, or ‘choose who lives and who dies’ like this one. They just love the idea of forcing a cape to get blood on their hands.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “See, in the trolley problem, you’re on a trolley, and you’re coming up to a fork in the tracks. On one side, one person’s tied to the tracks, trapped in a car, or otherwise unable to escape, on the other, five people are likewise unable to avoid certain death. You have to decide who dies.”

Flitter swallowed a couple more times. She really wanted to throw up again. “That’s awful.”

“Yeah. Especially when it stops being a thought experiment and actually happens to you.” The woman jerked her thumb at the cages again, then reached into her pocket and pulled out something small and flat - a plastic card, it looked like. Maybe two together. She fiddled with them while she talked. “The idea is that the ethical thing to do is save the greatest number of lives, right? But the trolley problem is a con.”

The Boxer groaned. “Sometimes an ethical choice is an ethical fucking choice, R… Lou.”

“Not debating that. But the trolley problem, specifically, is a con. The person placed in the position of making the ‘choice’ is told that they have to choose who lives and who dies, and bear the moral consequences, but that’s not true. No matter what the kid had chosen, she wouldn’t have been responsible for any deaths.”

Flitter felt a little better. “I wouldn’t?”

“No. The trolley problem forces a false choice. If you’re trapped in a trolley and about to kill one or several people who are tied to train tracks, and no other options exist, you’re not actually being allowed a free choice. The trolley problem’s ostensible protagonist is actually one of its victims.” She gestured at the mostly-headless body. “The real culprit is the person who put all those people on the tracks and shoved you into the brakeless trolley.”

“That doesn’t mean that the ethical answer to the trolley problem is to kill the person who posed the problem!” The Boxer sounded like he’d said that a lot of times before.

“Of course it is. Shit like this doesn’t happen in a vacuum, Box. In any situation in which a villain is going to kill one of two groups of people, there’s almost zero probability that this is the first and last time they’ll attempt murder. Ergo, the answer that saves the greatest number of lives is always to kill the person who posited the problem.” The woman folded her arms. “You know it’s true.”

“But it’s not right,” the Boxer almost wailed. Flitter suddenly felt kind of sorry for him. He cared about people. Nobody could do this job for more than eighty years if they didn’t. The idea that shooting someone in the head without warning wasn’t a bad thing to do was an idea that was just the wrong shape for his brain.

“Maybe not. But ‘right’ and ‘necessary’ aren’t always the same thing.”

The door onto the roof opened, and several cops came through with their weapons up. Flitter tensed, and tried to pretend she hadn’t. They couldn’t tell she was black under the costume. This was fine. It was fine. Law and order was theoretically on her side in this situation.

The Boxer’s hand was on her shoulder again, and he squeezed slightly. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “They play by the rules when I’m around.”

“Drop your weapon!” one of them shouted, and even Flitter managed to look at him like he was insane.

“I’m sitting down three feet away from the weapon, which is on the ground,” the woman said very dryly. “It’s as dropped as it’s gonna get.”

The guy started to yell again, but the oldest one smacked him across the back of the head. “Don’t make a bigger fool of yourself, dumbass.” He holstered his gun, and glared at the woman. “Ms Harmer, you moved to Delaware. We checked. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Visiting old friends.” She held out the thing she’d been fiddling with. “Here’s my driver’s license and my open carry permit. There’s the gun, which is still loaded so be careful. There’s the body of the supervillain calling himself, if I recall correctly, Inferno. I killed him in defence of two groups of civilians who you’ll find on the roof over there, in accordance with -“

“With Vermont state law regarding self-defence and the statute exempting non-powered persons from excessive force against supervillains. I know, I know,” the cop said, frustration dripping off the words. He barely glanced at the cards before handing them back.

Flitter blinked. “She’s done this before!?”

“Nine times in the state of Vermont, to my knowledge, counting this one.” The cop glared at Ms Harmer. “It was four in Delaware last time I checked, but it’s been a while.”

“And not a single charge laid.” Ms Harmer stood up. “Do you want to take me in now, Phil, or would it be more convenient for me to stop by in the morning to make my statement?”

“You - “ the overenthusiastic cop said, pulling out his cuffs.

“Forget it!” the older one snapped at him. “Just… forget it. Harmer, be at the station at nine.”

“I know the drill.”

“Sir, you’re not just gonna let her walk away - “

“Flynn, she’s done this thirteen times, weren’t you listening? She shot a known supervillain while he was in the commission of a major crime! She was sitting here waiting for us with the gun on the ground and her ID out! She confessed! She’s not a flight risk!” ‘Phil’ glared at Ms Harmer, then at the two superheroes. “Next time, at least try to stop her… not that that’s easy,” he added grudgingly. “Just… get lost, all of you. We’ll take it from here.”

When Flitter tried to move, she nearly fell over. The Boxer grabbed her and held her steady until her knees stopped buckling. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“It’s okay, kid. First time you see a head explode shakes everyone.” He patted her back gently, and took her arm and guided her towards the stairs. “I’ll buy you a coffee.”

After a moment, an equally gentle hand gripped her other elbow. “You’ll be fine, kid.” Ms Harmer’s voice was still as calm and level as ever. “And if there’s no-one around to help next time, remember that nothing that happens is your fault. The only murderer in the trolley problem is the one who poses it.”

“Unless I kill him,” Flitter said quietly. “Then it’s me.”

“Well, yeah,” Ms Harmer admitted. “Self-defense laws don’t apply to capes. You probably wouldn’t serve time over something this clear-cut, but the other capes’d push you out if you crossed that line, even if the cops didn’t put you away.”

“There are rules.” The Boxer still sounded upset.

“Yup. There are rules for capes, and rules for cops, and rules for civilians, and the important thing to remember is that they’re not the same rules.” The woman’s hand was steady. “Sometimes you have to choose.”

The Boxer snorted. “Like you did, Ray?”

Ms Harmer stopped on the stairs, and turned to look at him. “Rachel Zimmerman is dead, old man,” she said, and her voice was very cold. “You know she is. She died on your watch. An idealistic young lawyer who moonlighted as a superhero called Scale, and died in one of Dilemma’s deathtraps more than twenty years ago. You attended the funeral. You attested to her death when the body couldn’t be identified.”

“And then you turned up,” the Boxer said, and Flitter saw what might be tears in the hard old eyes. “And I knew I was wrong.”

“You heard a voice that sounded like hers and got sentimental.”

“You know things only Ray could know.”

She leaned in close, and her whisper was as bitter as ice. “Prove it.” Then she turned away, hopping the railing to land with a thud on the next flight of stairs. Flitter heard her boots moving fast on the stairs.

The Boxer just stood there, his shoulders slumped. “I can’t prove it,” he muttered, so quiet that he might be talking to himself. “But I know.”

Tentatively, Flitter put her hand on the big, muscular shoulder, like he had for her. “It was a trolley problem?” she said quietly.

He nodded. “I always told her not to kill. Never to kill. Then we went up against Dilemma, and… they were kids. Little kids. Dilemma…”

“He made her choose?”

The Boxer’s head bowed lower. “No,” he said, even more quietly. “He made me choose.”

Flitter nodded slowly. No wonder he was so upset. “She said it wasn’t your fault,” she reminded him, knowing it probably wouldn’t help but not knowing what else to say. “She said that the person given the choice is another victim.”

“Yeah, I know. She always does.” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “She was a good person, she never woulda wanted me to save her and let a bunch of little kids die. That she ain’t mad about. But she knows, and I know, that I coulda killed him. I coulda saved both, and I didn’t, because I wanted to be the good guy… and good guys don’t kill.”

Flitter felt the chill of that all down her spine. “I… hadn’t thought of that yet.” But now it was all she could think about. About this happening again, looking at some other monster playing with human lives, and realizing that even though the trolley problem wasn’t a real choice, she did have a choice… and what the consequences of that choice would be.

“Yeah. That’s why she does it. So kids like you don’t have to make either choice.” He sighed again, then shook his head. “But you don’t gotta deal with that right now. Come on, kid, let’s get that coffee. Maybe talk.”

Flitter nodded. “I’d… definitely like to talk.”

She didn’t look around for Ms Harmer when they left the building. But she wondered. Player One had been around for more than twenty years, she was pretty sure. Visiting friends, she’d said…

[inactiveanimeblog]

YANDERE ITACHI X READER

thinking of making an NSFW pt two for this and releasing it this week lmk :)

modern AU where itachi is a yandere, obsessed with his new little puppy.

tw : yandere, kidnapping, pet play, cage, collar, abuse and violence towards reader, swearing, reader is treated like a dog

life was pointless.

no one was coming to look for you anymore, no one cares, and for all everyone knows you could be dead.

but you’re not.

you’re in the basement of a man’s home, locked up in a small cage made for a medium sized dog, clawing at the metal to be let out, crying and begging to be let go.

you are let out every once in a while if you’re being “good.” and it feels nice to stretch out your legs and eat food at the dinner table like a normal human being, not like some pet licking food and water out of a puppy bowl.

it also feels nice to be able to use the bathroom and shower instead of being let outside to piss on the ground and be washed down afterwards by a hose.

every day it’s the same thing. you act up, you get treated like a dog and put in a cage. you be a good puppy and you get to sleep in the comfy warm bed with itachi, you get to almost be treated normally.

but none of this is genuinely ‘normal.’ living in fear with the sick man who kidnapped you is not normal.

you miss your friends, your family. you hated your old job but gosh you’d rather be anywhere in the world but here.

you wonder if you’ll ever get out someday. to see other humans, do regular things, come back to reality.

but with a man as strong and sadistic as itachi you know your chances to escape are slim to none, and you can’t really make a plan when he watches you like hawk. whether he’s in front of you or watching you from the camera’s.

he comes down to the basement to check on you. you don’t even notice he’s in the basement. it’s been six hours you estimated in the cage. you’ve screamed and cried as loud as you could the entire time, you’re surprised you hadn’t lost your voice yet.

he kicks the cage, getting your attention. you look up at him with your teary and defeated eyes. he thinks it’s cute when you look at him like that. you really are a little pup.

he crouches down to your level, puts a collar in front of your face, and smiles.

“sweetheart. you’ve been such a bad little puppy lately you know?” he starts. “if only you could be a good girl then you wouldn’t have to be in this little cage. you could be sleeping with me upstairs.”

“fuck you itachi.” you spit at him.

he chuckles at you. when will you ever learn?

“bad puppies get punished. you know you’re not supposed to bark back at your owner. so i got you a little something.” he waves the collar in front your face, it’s not like he hasn’t gotten you a collar before. this isn’t anything new.

“i know what you’re thinking. but this isn’t a regular collar, puppy. this is a shock collar. so whenever you yap out of that bad little mouth of yours, it’s gonna shock your entire body.”

there’s no way he’s seriously thinking of putting a shock collar on you.

“don’t you dare think about putting that fucking thing on me!” you shout, hitting at the cage like a weakling. his face contorts into anger and he unlocks the cage, dragging you out of it by your hair until your completely in front of him. he lands a harsh smack to the side of your head.

you gotta admit, when he hits you, you can really feel it. he’s not one to play with, but every single last bit of dignity you have, sticks to you. you can’t let him win.

and you wish you would have given up a long time ago. you wish you would have just let him have you, but there’s just one part of you that won’t let him.

the ringing in your ear and the dizziness of the slap has you completely helpless while he undoes your other puppy collar and wraps and locks the new collar on your neck, pushing you back into the cage and closing it.

“there you go pup, this will teach you how to be a good baby.” he smiles again, standing up and wiping off his hands like he just did some hard work.

“plea-” bad idea. the moment you speak your zapped with a stinging and burning sensation throughout your entire body.

trying to take it off doesn’t work either when there’s a lock on it.

“it works perfectly. i knew this would be the best gift for you. now you be a good puppy and think about your actions for the next few hours. i’ll come back to check up on you later.” he says before walking off upstairs and closing the basement door behind him.

you wanna cry, scream, beg him to take it off of you. but you know you can’t and you swear the last bit dignity you have starts to leave you.

[dreamerstreamer]

A Terrible Tutor

Pairing: Dream / Clay x gn!reader

Summary: [High School!AU] He’s cocky, annoying, a total tease, has a laugh loud enough to shake the stars, and you hate him. But as luck would have it, he’s also your tutor.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: minor cursing

A/N: this is based on a classmate i had way back! (we did not fall in love. he was awful.) i’ve also never taken physics, but i tried something a bit new for the reader’s personality. i hope you enjoy :) <3

You glared down at your physics textbook, the open pages staring back up at you with beady eyes made of diagrams and labels. Off to the side, your notebook was strewn across your desk, a list of questions scribbled across the top line in a hurried rush. The handwriting was messier than you would have liked, but the thought didn’t irritate you.

What did irritate you was that it was nearly half past four, and your so-called tutor still hadn’t shown up.

You could still envision the concerned look on Mr. Craftson’s face as he held you back a moment after class, watching as the rest of your classmates poured out of the door with an anxious look. He had offered you a kind smile before pulling out your test from the week before, and you winced at the numerous red marks scattered across the front page alone.

“I know you’ve been struggling in this class,” he said, gazing at you almost pitifully.

You tried not to glower at the sight of his apologetic eyes trained on you, instead nodding your head slowly. “It’s been… hard,” you said slowly.

He leaned an arm on his chair, pushing your test toward you. “You ask questions in class,” he hummed, “and from what I’ve seen, you complete your homework diligently.” His smile fell. “Yet here you are me, with the lowest mark in my class.”

You wanted to shrivel up into a ball. Maybe he didn’t have to say it like that, but he wasn’t wrong, either.

At your silence, he prodded at you. “Is there anything going on at home that might be hindering you, or…?”

You whipped your head up, your eyes wide. “No! Things are—things are great. It’s just…”

You swallowed, then sighed, fidgeting your fingers on your lap. “I guess,” you murmured, trying to quell the shame flaring up inside you, “I’ve just been really struggling with the material, and none of it’s really been clicking.”

Mr. Craftson’s face softened in an instant. “That’s alright. Thank you for being honest with me. If my teaching hasn’t been working out with you…”

He paused, rubbing at the blond stubble on his chin for a moment. Then, his face lit up and he leaned forward. “Tell you what,” he said. “I’ve got a great student who I think might be able to explain things to you in a way you might be able to grasp a little better. He’s got the best marks in this class.”

Your eyes widened. The best in the class? He had to be a genius.

“I have a good feeling he can meet you tomorrow at four after school to help you out,” he continued, leaning against the arm rest of his office chair. “What do you say?”

You blinked, a thoughtful look passing over your face. Lord knew you needed the help—you were practically failing the class—but an uneasy stone settled into the pit of your stomach. You’ve never needed tis much help to pass a class before. The thought made you want to gag. Slowly, you opened your mouth.

“Do I have to…” You gestured vaguely. “Pay him or something?”

His cerulean eyes blinked at you for a second, then he laughed—the kind of deep-belly laugh only teachers seemed to be able to have. “No, no,” he said, waving his hand at you, “not at all. He’s a good kid. He wouldn’t do something like that.”

You bobbed your head, your insides crumbling. You didn’t want to accept, you really didn’t. Part of you guys wanted to believe that you could just work harder, study by yourself even more. You were a dedicated student, and you were doing just fine in all your other classes. Surely the content couldn’t get that much harder, right?

But as your gaze lowered to the red ink staining your test once more, you felt yourself swallowing the lump in your throat. Straightening your back, you let your stubborn pride seep out of your shoulders and onto the floor.

It looked like this was a sacrifice you were simply going to have to make.

“Thank you so much for the offer,” you said, letting your lips curl up into a genuine, grateful smile. “It—it really means a lot.”

Mr. Craftson grinned at you, an easygoing flint shining in his eyes. “Of course. You’re a bright student. Sometimes we all just need a little push.”

You could still remember shaking his hand in thanks before bundling your stuff in your arms and shuffling into the hall, tucking your feet between the pages of your textbook. That had been yesterday, and now, the same one was sitting on your desk, open to a new page full of jumbled words you could hardly decipher.

The chair across from you was distinctly empty.

He—whoever he was—was late.

You distantly wondered to yourself who your tutor even was, your gaze drifting down to your textbook. Mr. Craftson had said he was the best student taking the class. Would it be George? He always seemed like he knew what was going on, and he never really asked questions. But sometimes, he looked like he was just zoning out. Maybe it was Technoblade. He was smart. You paused, then shook your head. No, everyone knew he was one of those English kids.

The thought made you furrow your brows, wracking your head even more. The words on the page grew muddled and fuzzy as you thought even more. Just who was it?

Just then, you heard the classroom door swing open with the same loud creak every door in the school seemed to have. The sound of heavy breaths and panting filled the air, then a haggard voice spoke up.

“Hey, I’m so sorry I’m late.”

You didn’t look up from your page, letting a sigh escape your lips as you lifted your head. Plastering a polite smile to your face, you let your gaze travel toward your tutor. “Hi, it’s nice to me—”

Suddenly, your voice died in your throat as your eyes locked onto the figure standing in the doorway. Towering over the desks with a duffel bag resting against his hip, his dirty blond locks were damp and matted against his forehead, his emerald eyes blinking at you. Something bitter and warm twisted in your gut at the sight, and the smile dropped off your face and into a scowl.

“Oh,” you said flatly. “It’s you.”

The smile he offered you was easygoing, but you didn’t miss the strain in his gaze. “It’s me.”

You bit on the inside of your cheek, your heart practically revolting against your rib cage with the way it was hammering. A million questions were darting around the inside of your skull, only making your blood boil even more with each passing second.

Of all the people you had expected to show up, Clay was easily the last.

The two of you had first met back in freshman year in your first science class—he had sat behind you and had the loudest laugh on the planet, or so you were convinced. You were quieter back then, but just as stubborn and snappish as now. Soon enough, one thing led to another, and you swore the two of you were suddenly enemies for life.

Although you couldn’t remember what had caused your little feud, you knew that he was the one who started it. He was loud and kicked your chair, he just loved to borrow your pens and never return them, and you could never figure out just why he loved to tease you so much. You don’t think you learned a single thing in that class, always distracted by the presence staring a hole into your back, and you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.

Naturally, that meant your teacher assigned him to sit behind you for the rest of the year. To this day, you were convinced she hated you, and you still avoided her in the halls.

To say that science class was your least favourite would be an understatement, and soon enough, everybody was in on your hatred for each other. Clay never seemed to stop pestering you no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, and you would never forget the day you finally snapped at him, whipping around to glare at him with your cheeks on fire.

“Will you please shut up?”

The shocked look on his face was still burned into your memory as it melted into a wide, proud grin.

“Only if you make me.”

Even years later, he always seemed to find a way to worm himself back into your life, and you hated it. You hated him, simple as that.

So, seeing him standing in front of you like this, it took every ounce of your strength to keep your voice as neutral as possible.

“What took you so long?”

He patted his duffel bag before slipping it off his shoulder and setting it on the ground. “I just finished football practice. Coach ran a little long and I figured it would be polite to take a shower before so I didn’t smell all sweaty when I tutored you.”

You blinked, your mouth falling open. That explained his wet hair, you guessed. While you were vaguely flattered, you were distracted by something else. “You knew that you would be tutoring me?”

Clay nodded, pulling back the chair in front of you. “Yeah. Phil asked me.”

You gaped. “You call Mr. Craftson by his first name?”

His smile was a touch too smug for your liking, and you wanted to wipe it off his face. “Maybe. I was surprised when he asked, though.” He wrinkled his nose and shot you a teasing smirk as he sat down. “I didn’t think you would be failing this class.”

You glowered, that same bitter feeling bubbling up in your chest, again. “I’m not failing,” you snapped. “I’m just…” You paused, your cheeks growing hot. “…not passing.”

He gave you a deadpan look, then laughed. “That’s the same thing.”

You sent him a gesture that your teacher most certainly would have scolded you for if he was here, and he laughed even harder. You were suddenly reminded of just how damn loud his laugh was, sounding like fireworks in your ears. Slumping over, you hung your head in your hands.

“Ugh. I can’t believe you knew you were going to be tutoring me of all people.” You paused, then added, “I can’t believe you agreed.”

He tilted his head at you, brushing his damp hair out of his face. “Did you not know I was gonna be your tutor?”

“No.” You frowned. “If I did, I wouldn’t have shown up.”

His eyes flickered with mirth as a smile stretched across his face. “Aw, am I really that disagreeable?”

“Yes,” you said immediately, your gaze as sharp as a blade. “Without a doubt. A hundred percent. I didn’t even have to think about it.”

He whistled, feigning a wince. “Harsh.”

Wryly, you said, “You deserve it.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “I wasn’t that bad as a freshman, was I?”

You gave him a hard, callous stare. “Do you really think I’m the one you should be asking that question?”

He thought about it for a moment, then sighed. “Okay, point taken.”

You dragged a hand over your face, then pointed at your textbook. “Are you going to teach me now or what? We’re already behind.”

He winced for real this time, and you almost felt bad for him. Almost. “Sorry, again.”

“Seriously,” you muttered under your breath, reaching into your back to grab your pencil case, “and to think that you have the highest grades in this class.”

“Hey,” he shot back, “I’m brains and brawn.”

You shot him a look that was nothing short of disgusted. He cringed a little at the sight.

“Okay, that was cheesy, but I’m not wrong. Besides, coach says I have to keep my grades up or else I’m off the team.” He leaned closer to you, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his hot breath fanning over your skin. “You know I can’t let everyone down like that.”

You looked unconvinced. “Uh huh. Totally.” Whipping out a pencil, you tapped at the bottom of the page you had open. “Can you explain this to me, now? The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can leave.”

He quietly chuckled, and you hated how soft it sounded. Leaning closer to the textbook to read, his lips mouthed the problem silently. You tried not to stare at his mouth as it moved, your gaze tracing over the soft dip of his lips as his viridian eyes flashed with recognition. A moment later, he sat back and cocked his head at you.

“So, what exactly do you not understand?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “Everything.”

He blinked, disbelief colouring his features. “Everything? Like, the whole thing?”

You scowled. “I thought that was obvious. All that stuff about velocity and the funny diagrams—” You shook your head. “—none of it makes sense.”

He raised a brow at you. “I thought you were paying attention in class. You really don’t understand a single thing?”

You bit back the urge to scream. “It’s not like you’re much smarter.”

Clay snorted derisively. “I am. That’s kind of the whole point.”

You groaned, letting your voice ring out in the quiet of the empty classroom. You caught a glimpse of his amused smile in front of you, and it only made you groan louder.

“You’re the one who ruined science for me, you know? I hated going to that class, and look at me now.” You gestured to yourself, using your finger to draw a ring in the air. “It all comes full circle.”

There was a brief second of silence. “I’m the reason why you hate science?”

You didn’t budge. “I wasn’t exactly jumping for joy knowing I was going to be stuck in a class with someone who never gave me my stuff back and kicked my chair.”

Another wave of silence washed over the two of you, but this one was tense—heavy. He swallowed, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob.

“You…” His eyes swirled with something sad and honest. “You really hate me that much?”

He suddenly looked a lot like a kicked puppy, and a pang of guilt shot through your chest like a bullet. With a panicked gaze, your voice grew shaky as you spoke. “I—I don’t hate you. I just… I had a grudge, I guess.”

Your tone grew soft, and you lowered your gaze to your lap. “I… I really didn’t like you back then, but things have changed.” You offered him a small smile, but it felt shy. “We’re not exactly fourteen, anymore.”

He returned your smile with one of his own. Just like yours, it was small and tender, and it sent something stirring in the depths of your belly. “No,” he murmured, “we’re not.”

“I,” you breathed, gulping down the last dredges of your grudge, “was stubborn back then.” You raised a shoulder. “In a way, I still am. I have too much pride for my own good too, but I don’t hate you.” The look you sent him had a spark of mischief, and his breath hitched. “Strongly dislike, at best.”

Clay blinked at you, looking half-surprised and half-awed at you. You squirmed under his gaze before he snapped out of his stupor, almost bashfully ducking his head. “I’m… It’s definitely too late for me to say this now when I really should have said it all those years ago, but I’m sorry. Really. I was a dick.”

You snorted under your breath, fondly mumbling, “Yeah, you were.”

His face perked up at the sound of your bitten back laugh. “I really shouldn’t have teased you so much. My reasons were… dumb.”

You cocked a brow at him, almost as if to say, Oh? Do elaborate.

But instead, you watched as his ears burned crimson red and he flashed you a pair of bright, pleading eyes. “Forgive me? Please.”

Your heart leapt into your throat, something new and warm bursting along the seams of your lungs. You couldn’t possibly say no to a face like that. Even the toughest person on the planet would crack under a look as sincere as that, you tried to reason, ultimately letting out a sigh with a stammer.

“O-Only if you actually can get me to understand this unit.” Pushing down the heat creeping up your neck, you pointed at him with an accusatory look. “Until then, you’re on thin ice.”

The grin he sent you was beyond dazzling—you couldn’t have brought yourself to look away even if you wanted to.

(And you didn’t.)

“Gotcha.”

Clay finished scribbling a diagram onto the new page of your notebook, flicking his thumb back to reveal the hordes of previous pages you had filled with other practice problems. If you were being honest, you were a little envious of just how neat his drawings were. No one should be able to draw a line as straight as that without a ruler, yet here he was, doing exactly that.

What a show-off.

Feeling your eyes on him, Clay lifted his head to catch your gaze, turning the notebook to face you. You tried to pretend the stumbling of your heart wasn’t because of him—not at all. “Do you get it?” he breathed.

You glanced back and forth between him and your page, your grip on your pencil falling slack. “I think so,” you said slowly. “Mostly, at least.”

He hummed for a moment, then flipped your notebook around until it was facing him again and holding an expectant, open hand toward you. Without even thinking, you dropped your pencil into his palm, a spark running up your fingers at the slight brush of his skin against yours. Carefully, he wrote a string of words on a new line, circling the sentence when he was done.

“Here,” he said gently, pushing the pencil back between your fingers, “try this question. This was one of the harder ones from my test.”

Gingerly, you peered down at the page, and your mouth fell open at the sight. This question was far more complicated than anything you had been solving in the textbook before this. What was he thinking?

“If you get it right,” he said suddenly, casting you out of your thoughts, “you should be all set.” His lips curved up into a taunting, knowing grin. “But it’s okay if you don’t get it—it is difficult, after all.”

You stared for a second longer, then grumbled under your breath. How could he read your mind like that? You were going to prove him wrong, even if only to knock that smug look off his face.

Leaning down, you tackled the problem head on, your pencil flying across the page as you spelled out formulas and equations, doodling a diagram when you had to and pausing to think every other breath. Before you, you didn’t see Clay watching you with a soft, tender gaze, taking in the way your fingers fidgeted against your pencil when you stopped and how you chewed on your mouth when you got nervous.

You really were more endearing than you could ever know.

Suddenly, you let your pencil clatter against the table as you pushed your notebook toward him, eyeing your pencil scratches with a wary look. “Done.”

His viridian eyes gleamed with excitement. “Alright,” he said, plucking the paper from your desk with a practiced ease, “let’s take a look.”

His gaze scanned your work intently, his lips pressed together in focus. You folded your hands onto your lap, trying to focus on his analysis of you work. But the longer you looked, the more you felt your gaze trailing up to graze his cheeks. Did he always have so many freckles? You didn’t remember seeing him with this many as a freshman, but you also spent more time glaring at him than staring at him back then.

In a way, he was kind of... pretty. Handsome, even. Not that you would ever say it out loud.

You suddenly had a strong urge to reach up and trace feather-light lines between each of his freckles, but before you could even take another breath, Clay’s eyes were on yours again. Unlike earlier, the look on his face was grave, and a small grimace overtook his features.

“I have bad news,” he said dryly.

Your heart fell.

Of course you got something wrong. You were a fool to think that things would change just because Clay would be teaching you instead.

But then, his grimace curled up at the corners, and your jaw dropped.

“I have nothing left to teach you in this unit.”

Your eyes widened.

“I got it right?”

He turned the notebook back to face you. A large check mark had been scribbled in pencil along the side of the page, a tiny smiley face decorating the corner next to it.

“Perfectly.”

The gasp you let out sent you barrelling for your feet, and you nearly started jumping for joy in the middle of your seat. “Yes!” you cried, pumping a hand up in the air. Suddenly, you whirled to point at Clay, a pout forming on your lips. “Oh my god, you scared the crap out of me! Don’t do that.”

He chuckled, leaning back with his hands up defensively. “Sorry, sorry. I saw the opportunity and just had to take it.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you stuck your tongue out at him. “You’re terrible.”

His eyes softened—sincere and sweet. “I know.”

Ignoring the sudden burst of warmth rushing through your veins, you huffed at him. “Well, at least I have two pieces of good news for you. First,” you said, sliding your notebook off your desk, “we can both go home, now.”

“And the second?” he prompted, looking at you inquisitively.

You folded your notebook shut, boring a hole into your backpack with the intensity of your stare. You couldn’t look at him right now, you just couldn’t.

“Second,” you nearly whispered, “I accept your apology.”

Slipping your textbook into your bag, you heard him take a sharp intake of breath. “Really?”

You reached for your pencil case, fumbling with the zipper. “Yes.”

There was another breath, but this one was gentler, less harsh. You peeked up at him from your bag, and your heart stuttered at the ecstatic look on his face.

“This,” he said, “is the greatest day of my life.”

You blinked wildly at him, zipping your backpack up all the way before slinging it onto the desk. “That’s a little extreme, isn’t it?”

He shook his head, his smile never once faltering. “Are you kidding? I thought you were going to hate my guts forever!”

You shrugged, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I might have.” You paused. “Actually, I probably would have. But luckily for you—” You shot him a sincere look. “—not anymore.”

His grin grew impossibly wider, yet it somehow still looked natural on him. Deep down, a part of you wanted to bottle up his expression and remember it for as long as you lived.

“Like I said, greatest day of my life.”

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “Weirdo.”

Pushing in your chair and gesturing for him to stand, you jutted your head toward the door. Clay didn’t need to be queued twice before he was rising to his feet, pushing the chair back to its rightful spot before heaving his duffel bag off the floor and onto his side. As the two of you headed out towards the door, a bought suddenly flickered across your head, and your lips began moving before you could even begin to think.

“One of these days, you need to tell me why you liked to pick on me so much. Like, seriously, why me?” You gestured to yourself as the two of you stepped outside into the school hallway. “I’m not exactly special.”

You hadn’t been looking at him in that moment, focused on closing the door behind you, but when he didn’t respond for a moment, you looked up and felt your lungs tighten. You had never seen Clay look so bashful in his life, with his ears flaring crimson red and a faint rosy tint dusting the panes of his cheeks. His freckles were only more noticeable with the pink background, and you nearly blurted something you knew you would regret.

“Maybe I’ll—” He coughed, rubbing the back of his neck with a smile. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

Before you could even ask what he meant by that, he was firing off once more. “In the meantime, if you still need help, I don’t mind coming in again next week or something.”

You nearly took a double take. Next week? He wanted to help you, again?

“Don’t you have more important things to do?” you asked, scanning him with wide, curious eyes. “Like studying your own stuff.”

“You’re important,” he said abruptly.

You choked on your spit, and by the way he went absolutely stock still in front of you, you had a feeling he hadn’t meant to say that.

“Oh,” you whispered.

That warm, fuzzy feeling from earlier was rising between your lungs again, only this time it sent your heart racing around your chest. Sucking in a deep breath, you nodded your head once, twice.

“Sure,” you managed to say as calmly as you could. “The, um, the next unit looks a little confusing, so I might need some help.”

Clay’s face suddenly brightened at your soft request for assistance, and you caught his shoulders slumping with relief as he smiled. “Awesome.” He paused, then waved his hand. “Not the part about you needing help, I mean.”

You laughed a little at that, your nerves calming a bit more. “I would hope not.”

He smiled back at you. “So,” he said, drawing out the syllable, “I’ll be back same time next week?”

You couldn’t help but reach over to elbow him a little playfully. “Try to be on time though, yeah?”

He flushed a bit, but cracked a crooked grin nonetheless. “I’ll try my best.” He glanced over his shoulder down the hall, and you suddenly realized you would be heading in the opposite direction.

“I’ll see you around?” he murmured gently, brushing away his now dry hair from his forehead.

One of your hands tightened around the straps of your bag while the other waved back at him. “See you.”

With one last grin at you, you watched as he turned on his heel, striding down the hall with his duffel bag bouncing against the side of his hip. Just then, your eyes grew wide, and you cupped your hands around your mouth to call after him.

“One last thing, Clay!” you shouted, your voice echoing down the empty corridor.

At the sound of his name, he whipped around again, his brows knitted together. Breathing in deeply, you screwed your eyes shut and called out once more.

“Thank you!”

When you opened your eyes again, his emerald green eyes were blinking at you with wild abandon, his lips parted in what could only be described as a look of pure wonder. Your heart skipped a beat, and you wondered why he was looking at you of all people like that.

Swallowing, he sent you a lopsided, earnest smile and cupped his own hands around his mouth to shout back at you.

“Anytime!”

You kept waving at him even after he let his arms drop back to his sides and he vanished around the corner of the hall. Almost immediately, you bent over to bury your head into your knees, letting out a soft, muffled yell.

Why did your chest feel so warm when he looked at you like that? Why did you want to count his freckles so badly when he smiled? Was he always so nice, so helpful and kind? Why did he look so cute when his face flushed all pink like the way it did before? When did he become so endearing instead of annoying?

Did you like him?

You let out another muffled cry into your hands, feeling heat flood every part of your body like a tidal wave crashing into your system. You could hear your heart ringing in your ears like a bell that wouldn’t ever stop, and your toes curled into your shoes.

You had so, so many questions, none of which you knew how to solve.

Hopefully Clay could help you figure out the answers.

[spencersawkward]

*concussions and confessions//spencer reid*

summary: a near-death experience encourages Spencer to admit his feelings for his best friend, even at the risk of ruining their relationship.

pairing: Fem!Reader/Spencer

content warnings: oh boy there’s a lot. i’ll start with the nonsexual ones-- choking (again, not sexual), blunt force, violence, some angst. ok time for the fun ones-- unprotected penetrative sex, masturbation, sex dream, oral (male receiving), slight dirty talk, creampie. lmk if there are more that i missed! 

word count: 5.4k

A/N: hi omg so i actually combined two requests for this bc i loved the concepts and i didn't wanna do one and not the other. i hope i do both of these justice hehe thanks for sending them! also sorry if the unsub scene sucks-- i don’t usually write that way, so i tried my best. 

request(s): omg if you need ideas for baby spence can you do a one shot where he's the girls best friend (she's not in the bau) and they are in love but neither of them admit it and he is really hurt in a case or almost dies or something traumatic and only when he gets back they confess their love... and then have sex 😏 ive been thinking about this concept alot 😌

can’t stop thinking about baby spencer (like s2-s4) & his girl best friend losing their virginity to each other... can you write a one shot on this please?

masterlist

"when are you coming back?" you ask over the line. you're lying on your bed, legs in the air while you talk to your best friend. it's been a long day for you, but a longer day for him. it's always a longer day for him. 

"you know that I don't know the answer to that question." Spencer's voice is soft as he attempts to keep quiet. he's two hours ahead and, despite the fact that you're both night owls, the person he's rooming with tonight isn't. 

"I know, but there's this Korean film festival that starts tomorrow and I was hoping you would be here to translate for me." you examine your nails while you talk. Spencer lets out a disappointed sigh. 

it's only been a few days since he left, but it's been a week since you last saw him and it feels like a long time. whenever he's not at work, you two are joined at the hip. ever since you first met a few years back at a poetry convention in DC, it feels like he's the only person who understands you. which is weird, because you couldn't be more different as individuals. 

"you should bring one of your other friends." 

"bold of you to assume I have other friends." you joke. Spencer chuckles to himself and your heart flutters. you love his laugh more than anything in the world. 

"I thought that was just me." he says. 

"oh, it is just you," you reply flatly. "I was trying to make you feel better."

you can practically feel Spencer smiling through the phone. although you tease him pretty frequently, he's sometimes able to get in his own shots. it's what makes your friendship interesting.

"hey," you add before he can say anything more. "how's the case going?" 

Spence starts to detail the whole thing, and you listen intently, the timbre and smoothness of his voice comforting you as you slip beneath the covers of your bed. you like the way he enunciates his words, his strange manner of speaking, because it lulls you to sleep. 

you know he's talking about horrible things, but something about the sound comforts you deeply. when he's not around, you're wishing you had it bottled up. 

he lays out their profile as it stands, and you fall silent. it's getting pretty late and you have to be up early for work tomorrow, so it would be a good idea to get some real rest. plus, Spencer needs to sleep, too-- even though he probably won't. 

you remember times when he'd call you at three in the morning, his mind whirring as he played chess against himself and asked if you wanted to hang out so he could teach you how. you hate chess, but of course you said yes; you'd been head over heels with him since your first conversation.

eventually, you feel yourself start to drift off. you don't even really know what he's saying; all of it blends together until you're laying there, one cheek pressed to the pillow and the receiver against the other. 

"Y/N?" he says your name abruptly and your eyes, which have been slowly drawing shut this whole time, fly open. 

"yeah?" 

"go to bed."

"what? no, I'll wait until you're done." you shift. 

"I could hear your breathing change." 

"then why didn't you just hang up?" you giggle. he goes silent for a moment and you wonder if he cut out, but then he responds. 

"I wanted to say goodnight." 

it's like a cage of butterflies is unleashed in your stomach. you wrinkle your nose as you get nervous. god, you miss him. things would be so much better if he was back. not like he'd be in your bed even if he was, though.  

"then say goodnight." you prod. he lets out an awkward little sound. 

"now I can't because you made it weird." 

"how did I make it weird?" 

"I don't know, you just did." he's so clumsy, your face heats up. you want to keep talking like this until morning.

"goodnight, Spence," the words sound reluctant, but you try to cover it up by teasing him further. "see, was that so bad?" 

"oh my god, Y/N--" he tries to sound exasperated. 

"no goodnight back?" you raise an eyebrow even though he can't see you right now.  

a lengthy silence again. "goodnight."

"that's what I thought." before he can protest, you end the call, settle into the covers. moonlight beams on the walls of your apartment, and you start to think about your best friend. about all the nights spent curled up on his couch with two bowls of popcorn, his ramblings about how much he loves his job and him asking about yours. 

he's a great listener. every time you talk, he nods along like he's hanging off every word. it's nice to feel heard that way, to have someone care. and he's fun to hang out with, too. you've met his team before and they all talk about how hard it is to get him to go out, but they don't see the same side of him that you do. 

Spencer is nerdy and cute and kind and sensitive. he makes you feel special. he's everything that you've ever wanted in a person. but it's not like it would matter, anyway. he hasn't really shown interest in any girls-- much less you. even if he did, you're scared of ruining the friendship. 

the fallout of not having him around at all... it would destroy you. and something, even if it's torturous, is better than nothing. 

which is why, as you sit there and remember being around him, your fingertips creep below the comforter. a familiar routine, they move over your stomach, until they reach the waistband of your panties. for a moment, you hesitate. it's wrong. he's your best friend. but he doesn't need to know that this is how you handle the ache he puts between your legs. 

as your index finger slides down your slit, you feel the wetness already forming. Spencer's hands, his mouth. the thought of his lips pressed to yours while he fucks you, holding your body like it's delicate. 

you don't know exactly how it would feel because you've never had sex, but you want to find out with him. he's never done it, either. you don't care; all you need is to have him inside of you, to see how he looks when he's on the edge. 

your mind wanders to the image of him parting your legs and rolling his eyes into the back of his head. the sensation of him filling you up. falling apart. 

you slide a finger inside, gasping at the way your walls tighten and your imagination runs wild. that tongue, lapping and making you squirm, your fingers twisted in his soft hair. he's so sweet; his attentiveness would make your legs shake. you want to look into his eyes while he does it. 

you add a second finger, curl them and brush over the most sensitive part. the pressure of his hips grinding into yours. your body curves up at the way you start to finger yourself, the other hand stimulating your clit. it's almost overwhelming, the way his name tumbles from your lips over and over. 

you've never wanted someone so badly in your life; he belongs in your bloodstream. the sounds he would make in your ear before finally cumming and collapsing on top of you, spent. you want to tire him out and then do it all over again. 

you're greedy on the edge, indulging in every single image of him you can conjure up, every dirty thing you'd say. finally, you feel yourself fall, the orgasm intense as you bite back groans of pleasure and work through the high. it's amazing. 

you sit there, panting, feeling your heart beat in your chest. some things can't leave your head, they're so sinful. and the worst part is that you don't regret it in the slightest. 

...

Spencer can feel his pulse practically leaping against his throat as he makes his way through the empty warehouse. he should have waited for backup; he knows he should have, but it's too late now to go back and change things. 

he clutches his gun, pointing it in front of him while his eyes flicker wildly across the space. he's moving between enormous aisles stuffed with crates, not knowing who else is around. they said the unsub brought his newest victim here-- Spencer came first because was closest to the site-- but he hears nothing aside from the uneven rhythm of his own breath. 

every step is careful. he's thinking about how close the rest of the team must be. based on their distance from the station, they should arrive within six minutes-- but that doesn't account for the time it takes to put on their bulletproof vests, to get to their cars. 

truthfully, he doesn't know if he's going to have to do this on his own. and that scares him the most. 

there's no point in worrying. he swallows the lump in his throat and presses his back to one of the crates. there's a scraping noise a ways off that causes him to freeze. because of the echoes of the warehouse, the origin is indiscernible. he doesn't breathe, eyes darting between each of the openings into the aisle. 

after a minute of pure silence, he peels himself away and turns to head back out. 

and that's when the sound of wood cracking against bone startles him; he hears it before he feels it, but it's obvious when he crumples to the floor. like knife points pressing into his brain at all angles, the shooting agony in his skull. 

he starts to clutch at his head, only to be yanked off the ground by a meaty hand and thrown against the side of a crate. 

"fucking feds." the guy is enormous. gargantuan. he keeps his arm across Reid's throat, pressing down enough to restrict his airway. but Spencer can't even concentrate on the guy's face further than its rough outlines. his vision is going in and out, fuzzy at the edges from the blow to his head. 

he definitely has a concussion. 

"I..." he trails off. the huge FBI logo on his vest is a dead giveaway. 

"all alone?" the unsub has breath like rotten fish, spits each word into his face. "I won't even need my gun." 

Spencer's head lolls to the side and he catches sight of his own weapon lying helplessly a few feet away. there's no way he could get to it in time, even if he got out of this guy's chokehold. 

he tries to think of a way to talk himself out of this; after all, their profile said he'd be more susceptible to negotiation, but that's kind of hard to do with someone's forearm slammed against your trachea. he presses harder and Spencer sees stars. his glasses hang almost off the bridge of his nose, centimeters from falling to the floor. 

he starts to realize that he's going to die, defenseless and alone, in a warehouse. at the hands of a man who kills women because his Viagra doesn't work. but this doesn't incite the kind of panic Spencer always predicted he'd feel. the lack of oxygen in his brain causes him to go delirious. 

he misses home. his mom and his old house, even though things were hard. he misses Y/N, his team members. he wishes his team was here; he should have waited for them. he should have told Y/N how he feels. now she's never going to know. 

Reid is so out of it, he doesn't even notice the pressure being relieved from his throat until he collapses on the ground. the unsub falls, too, his cheek smashed by the force of the abandoned wooden plank. 

it's hard to tell what's happening until Reid lifts his head to see Morgan standing above him, preparing to handcuff the criminal.

"kid," Spencer never thought he'd be so glad to hear his voice. "what happened?"

...

you practically crash into Spencer's apartment the next evening, flinging your body through the front door with your spare key. 

"Spence?" you call out from the entryway. everything still looks the same, but when his colleague, Penelope, called you today to tell you that Reid had gotten a concussion after a run-in with an unsub, you rushed here as soon as you could. 

"in here." he calls from his bedroom. you don't hesitate, your feet carrying you there. you've been anxious all day; he didn't call last night or even text like usual. you were on the verge of panicking when Penelope called. 

of course, you knew that was the risk with Spencer. he knew the risk, too. his life would always be in the balance when it came to the cases, but he'd gone through so many at this point, you weren't thinking about it. if you did, you wouldn't be able to focus on anything else. 

when you walk in, the first thing you see is Spencer laying in bed in his silk pjs. there's a stack of unread books on his bedside table. his glasses sit on top. he's just laying there with his eyes closed. 

"oh my god." you mutter, dropping your bag on the floor and walking over. he opens his eyes with a slight smile. there's a purple bruise forming across his throat, light but definitely there.  

"hi." 

"what the fuck happened?" you ask the question you've been wondering the whole way here. 

"he hit me with a plank." Spencer explains, the phrase coming out like he's still confused about it. "I'm fine, just a mild concussion and a bruise because he choked me." 

you take a second to assess if he actually means that he's okay, or if he's trying not to worry you. he stares at your expression for a second. 

"Y/N, I'm really fine." 

"you don't look fine." you gesture to the fact that he's laying in bed. 

"my body is sore, but nothing's wrong with me. I just can't look at screens or read." this last part makes him much more melancholy, it seems. you reach down and ruffle his hair playfully. 

"sounds like a nightmare." 

"it is." he cracks up. 

"I'm glad you're okay." you sigh. your heart rate has slowed to a reasonable pace now that you know he's fine. Spencer gives a ghost of a smile, and when he pats the empty spot on the bed beside him, you kick off your shoes and climb over his body to sit down. "so... did you guys get him?" 

"the unsub?" he turns his head to look at you. something is in his eyes that you can't read. "yeah, he's in custody. we saved the girl he abducted, too." 

"well, aren't you a hero?" you grin, pinching his arm. 

"ow!" he flinches. "don't hurt the patient."

"oh, so now you're injured?" you giggle softly. his smile fades a bit, gaze trailing from your face to your legs. it isn't lustful or anything, more like he's taking in your existence. it still makes your heart flutter. 

"I wasn't really a hero, anyway," he sighs. "I got knocked down before I even found her." 

"oof." you wince. 

"yeah, it's sort of embarrassing. I went in by myself and--"

"you went by yourself?" you clarify, turning to face him. of course he did. 

"yeah." he avoids your gaze. 

"Spencer, I work in a stationery shop and I know you're supposed to wait for backup." you deadpan. he snorts, staring straight ahead at the wall. his hair is flat in the back from where he's been resting it against the headboard. 

"he would have hurt her if I had waited." he explains. your heart softens a bit at this. you know Spencer has a problem with saving people; sometimes he doesn't think things through. but you know that it's only because he cares. 

you smile gently, appreciating what a beautiful person he is. you don't understand how other people don't see him how you do. your hand reaches for his suddenly, and you find yourself snuggling into his shoulder. 

Spencer doesn't usually like touch, but he welcomes this, dropping his own head to rest on top of yours while you both stare at the wall. his silence feels heavy, more than it usually does, and you wonder what he's thinking. 

"I'm really glad you're okay, Spencer." your tone is low, like it's a secret. 

"you already said that." 

"shut up." 

"you care about me." he sing-songs with a smile, and you know he means it in a friendly way, but you don't care. it brings warmth to your cheeks. 

"whatever. you care about me, too." 

he lets out a slight chuckle. "when I started to black out, I thought of you." 

your heart leaps, even though the reason is pretty dark. "oh, yeah?"

"mhmm." he hums. 

"nobody's ever told me that they thought of me in their last moments of life before." you tease. there are so many things you'd like to say, but know you can't. he smells like himself and coffee beans, his skin warm beneath the silk of his pajamas. 

"I'd hope not."

"anything in particular?" you wonder aloud. 

"what?" you feel him tense beneath you, and that's how you know there's something he's not telling you. 

"were you thinking about anything in particular?" 

"someone's full of themselves." he jokes. you smack his arm.  

"humor me." more than anything, you want to hear his thoughts. you know you're reaching, but you don't care. 

"just..." he pauses, the next words coming out almost too quietly to hear. "things I never got to say to you." 

"like?" now you're intrigued. 

"no way." he laughs and you groan, turning and realizing that you've both sunk deeper onto the bed and are now practically lying down. 

"c'mon," you prod. you've flipped onto your side while you watch him, his eyes directed at the ceiling. "what if you'd actually died?" 

Spencer gives you a look, and you wish you could snap a picture of his face. the gentle features, the warmth in his eyes. he stares at you differently than before, and it makes your stomach flip again. "I, um." 

you start to trace your index absently down his forearm, where his sleeve has incidentally gotten rolled up. his skin is soft. you know that this isn't a friendly thing to do, but something inside you craves his touch right now. you almost lost him; you can't imagine how horrible that would be. 

"I wanted to say that I--" he gulps, muscles in his shoulder tight beneath your cheek. "well, I care about you, and I... I really love you." 

it's not the first time he's said it, obviously in a platonic sense. what affects you is that he's acting like it's a big deal. 

"I love you too, Spence." you smile softly. his chest rises and falls faster, his face tensed. 

"no, I mean--" he turns onto his side, using the action to distract from his own nervousness. he holds your gaze and you forget how to breathe as he speaks. every syllable is serious, but you note his fingers fidgeting at his side. "I'm in love with you." 

it's like all the air in the room has been sucked out. you swallow, unsure of how to react at first. you don't believe what you're hearing, simply because it doesn't make sense. you've been friends for a while, now, but Spencer has never made a move to ask you out or acted like he wanted anything more. 

your heart swells. 

"you're in love with me?" the words even feel surreal on your tongue. he takes it as rejection.

"I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry." Spencer rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, his expression turning to a cringe. he's about to sit up to hide the red in his cheeks, but you pull him back down by the shoulder. 

"not so fast, crazy boy." the corners of your mouth are turning up into a grin. you can't help it; every nerve in your body is alive. Spencer loves you. he feels the same way. 

when he sinks back down onto the mattress and sighs, preparing to say something that rescinds the statement to erase any awkwardness, you grab his face and turn it to yours. you don't kiss him, only force him to look. 

"I'm in love with you, too." 

his eyebrows fly up in surprise. "r-really?"

"yes." you nod. 

he takes a second to process this. you see about five different expressions pass over his face, each one reminding you of how earnest he is. and it's absolutely adorable. 

"well, that's good, isn't it?" he clarifies. you pretend to think on it. 

"I'd say so, yeah." 

he smiles. a genuine, rare one that makes your veins feel as if they're full of glitter. you're on Cloud 9. 

"can I kiss you?" you ask him quietly. he seems surprised at this, too, like he never thought you'd want that, but then nods eagerly. 

you close the gap between you on the bed, holding his jaw in one hand while the other rests on his forearm. your lips meet softly at first. he's cautious, scared of pushing you away. he hasn't kissed many people before. but he's good at it, letting you take the lead. 

there's no way to adequately describe kissing Spencer. every bone in your body turns to mush, immediately craving more contact. you slide your tongue across his full bottom lip, and he lets you in. his affection is the most loved you've ever felt. because sure, you haven't had sex, but you've kissed people before. 

never like this. 

one of his hands goes up to wrap around your forearm tenderly before he shifts to lie on his side. you wrap around each other, turning the kiss into a full-body embrace as you breathe in. you want more. your leg swings over his torso so you can pull yourself closer, and he groans into your mouth when your pelvis presses against his. 

the kiss gets more heated, his hands carefully but hungrily traveling down the curve of your waist. you flip so that you're straddling him without breaking any contact. 

you don't really think about the way your hips begin to rock against his, your pussy involuntarily working for friction. there are so many happy chemicals in your brain right now, you giggle against his mouth when his body bucks up into yours. he groans. 

"Y/N..." he breathes softly. his hands move from your waist to your thighs, afraid to dig his fingertips in. 

"what?" you sigh, licking over his bottom lip again. he moans at the way you keep grinding on his erection. 

"I wanna--" his eyelashes flutter when he gasps. "I wanna touch you." 

"do it." your palm is resting tenderly against his cheek. he responds by finally holding you down, sliding his body up a bit to grind against your center. you whine. "touch whatever you want, Spencer." 

his cock twitches in his pants and you push the hem of his shirt up while he uses one hand to massage your tits. the voracious, curious nature of his attention makes you sigh, touching his stomach. he feels perfect beneath you. 

soon you're grabbing at each other without any regard for grace. he's so horny, he's pawing at whatever he can while you do the same to him. the kissing gives way to straight panting while you look at each other. 

"can I suck your dick?" you whisper. Spencer's eyes widen. you've never seen him nod so fast. 

you press your mouth to his one more time before inching down his body, sucking on his clavicle, then his stomach. careful to avoid the purple marks on his neck. he watches you intently, memorizing the details of this moment for later. when you reach the waistband of his pants, you peek up. he strains against the material. 

your mouth drops open and you draw your tongue over the clothed bulge, maintaining eye contact. Spencer throws his head back. his voice is high. "oh my god, oh my god." 

you smirk, licking it again. he clenches his jaw. "I'm gonna c-cum if you don't--" he tries for words, but he's mewling and moving against your mouth. you pull at his pants, hooking your fingers in his boxers and bringing them down, too. 

Spencer bucks into the air when his cock hits his stomach. it's big, precum leaking helplessly out of the tip while he whines. you want him now. 

"wow." you smile. he stares at you, tensing his stomach as you wrap your hand around his length. he's trying to keep quiet, but as soon as you spit on it and start to pump him, his head falls back into the pillow. 

you draw your tongue up the underside, paying special attention to the veins, reveling in his reactions. he looks like he's ascending to heaven when you start to suck on the first couple inches.  

"o-oh, fuck..." he keeps moving his hips off the bed for more, so you sink down further onto him, hollowing your cheeks and moaning. "Y/N..." 

you groan in response, feeling yourself get wetter with every sound he makes. you can't believe this is happening, the way he threads his fingers loosely through your hair in an attempt to touch more of you.

he tries to keep his eyes open while you suck, but they squint with pleasure. he's a mess for you, shuddering gently when you take nearly all of him into your mouth. 

before he can cum, you pull your mouth off of him with a satisfying pop. Spencer moans. 

"was that okay?" you ask carefully. this is the extent of your sexual experience, and you want to do more with him, but you aren't sure how he feels. your best friend stares back at you like you've turned his world upside down. 

"y-yeah," he replies. his face is flushed. "definitely okay."

he's throbbing, occasionally twitching against his stomach as he waits for more stimulation. you eye him carefully. 

"what do you feel comfortable doing?" your voice is smooth. "we can stop now, if you'd like." 

"I--" he chokes on the word. "I don't wanna stop." 

"do you want to have sex?" you ask. Spencer bites his lip, whines. 

"mhmm." 

"I wanna do that, too," you breathe out, straightening up and pulling your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra, before getting to work on your shorts. you know you're practically dripping. he's been more vocal, but you feel like you're going to implode from the desire. "but I need to tell you something." 

"what?" he tugs your arm, coaxing you back to him and touching you greedily. you giggle as you kick your shorts and panties off somewhere in the room. both of you move like awkward teenagers. 

"I'm a virgin." you say. 

Spencer frowns. "really?" 

"yeah," you lick your lips. "so you need to be careful." 

"o-of course." he blushes, getting nervous again. "you know I'm a virgin too, right?"

"I know." you smile. he returns it sweetly, and the commotion of your bodies slows for a moment. you're so happy, you could cry. 

"what?" he breaks the comfortable silence. 

"I'm excited," you shrug. he's got his hands on your waist, rubbing his fingertips over your skin. then you remember something. "wait, are you allowed to have sex with your... injury?" 

"it's fine." he reaches up and kisses your throat with an urgency. 

"did the doctor say that?" your eyes roll while he sucks on your neck. he groans and pulls down on your waist so that your stomach presses against his cock. he ruts. 

"second opinion from me." he pants. you tap his cheek playfully, move up his body until your core brushes him. he whimpers when you reach between your bodies and grip his length in your hands. 

"you ready?" your voice is low. Spencer squeezes your thighs, eyes moving between your tits and your face. 

"yes." he sighs. you position it, slicking him in your pussy while he wraps an arm around your waist and moans for more. your chests are pressed together, looking into each other's eyes while you slide him into you. 

you have to go slow, the intrusion causing your jaw to drop. you don't breathe. he's got his eyes rolled into the back of his head.  

"Spencer." you whimper, dropping your head onto his chest when he's fully inside of you. his fingers rub patiently over your back. 

"are you okay?" his voice is laced with a moan, trying to resist thrusting. 

"yeah, just a second." you wiggle a little bit to test the boundaries. it hurts, but it also feels good. your clit is begging for more pressure, so you start to roll your hips. Reid moans loudly. 

"Y/N..." he whimpers. "don't stop." 

"you want more?" the need in his voice makes you hornier, and you increase the pace, despite the slight pain. you're so wet, he slides in and out without much effort. 

"so-- much more." he's gasping, hands on your thighs as he watches your naked body writhe on top of him. he's never been more aroused in his life, spurred on by your scent and form and the tightness that keeps clenching around his cock.

he understands why people love sex so much, now. he wants it every day, wants to fuck you in every position and pleasure you. the sounds you release in his ear, whines and praises, he would do anything for more. walk to the ends of the earth to feel you cum on his cock. 

his hand finds your ass, squeezes it. 

"this feel good, Spence? fucking your best friend?" you talk dirty and he twitches. you're always so sweet, the words coming out of your mouth for him are going to send the genius into a tailspin. 

"mhmm," he holds you down so that he can thrust up. speaking at all is a struggle with the way he's feeling. "perfect." 

you start to say something else, but he hits a certain angle and you let out a quiet yelp, hips jumping at the pleasure. "I'm gonna cum." 

Spencer gets a rush of relief because it's taking everything in him right now not to absolutely lose it inside your pussy. he's hanging on by a thread. "me, too." 

you use your position on top to stimulate yourself. both of you chase your orgasms roughly, the rhythm you created degenerating into clawing excitement. 

"cum inside me, Spencer." you beg him. it sounds like you would do anything to feel it, that sensation that you've never experience but have always imagined. and Spencer, his own head foggy with ecstasy, nods and opens his mouth to let out a loud groan. 

"Y/N, fuck fuck fuck-- I'm--" he shoots his load inside of you, rutting wildly and letting his head drop onto the pillow while he pants. you can feel it. strange, lovely jolts of his seed spreading. your hands, which have been resting on his shoulders, tighten and you reach your climax. you flutter around him, both of you still moving to ease the intensity of the high. 

it's remarkable. you're crying out, having the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life. you never thought your first time would be like this. but you're glad it is, muscles tightening and releasing with the mixture of emotions. 

you collapse fully, him still inside. 

neither of you speaks. his heartbeat thuds against your ear, and you hold onto him like letting go would be the end of the world. you can't believe you could have lost him. you don't want to think about it. 

"sorry I came so fast." Spencer apologizes breathlessly. you can feel his cum dripping down your entrance when he slides out. 

"I don't care." you mumble. both of you stay there for a while, his heartbeat changing to a pace that reminds you of genuine excitement. like a hummingbird. 

"we can try again, sometime." he offers. you lift your head to rest your chin on his chest. his skin is flushed, pupils dilated, hair messy. such a pretty boy. 

"we should try multiple times." 

he gives you a cheerful smile, and everything starts to fall into place. you took each other's virginity. "Y/N?" 

he likes to say your name, and you love to hear it. "yes?" 

"are we dating?" the bluntness of the question makes you giggle. you don't hesitate. 

"yeah." 

“good.”

taglist (lmk if you wanna be added/removed!): @reidsconverse @voidsfilm @xoxomgg​ 

[tetsurouskuro]

Reunion

pairing: bokuto koutarou x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, smut, slight angst, breeding kink, unprotected sex, public sex, bokuto does the kabedon

word count: 5,006

a/n: this is my submission for the Haikyuu Headquarters second NSFW server collab! this time it’s the prompt “Guess I’ll just have to cum inside you.” you can find the masterlist HERE by the amazing @vixen-scribbles who is my queen so go give her a follow! 💖

thank you @deathcab4daddy​ & @gallickingun​ for beta reading, ily guys so much (go give them a follow if you aren���t already)! 💖

now enjoy; feedback is always appreciated! <3

tag list: @miamiya (message me if you want to be included)

Synopsis: Three years has passed since you got your heart broken by your one true love Bokuto Koutarou. A high school reunion is about to take place at Fukurodani Academy. What will happen when you finally meet your ex boyfriend? 

MASTERLIST!

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪

Your eyes scanned the invitation card from your high school. Reading every word that’s written. A high school reunion. The thought alone makes you think of him. Wondering how he’s doing. He may be your ex and the boy who broke your heart, but he was your first and still to this day, your only love, and you knew why he did it. He had his reasons.

He had talked you through it before you both graduated high school. He had told you that he wanted to focus on volleyball and that he was going to move away from Tokyo, and you were not the type to try and stop him. You wanted him to succeed. You also had to think about your future and what you wanted to achieve. Both of you went your separate ways, heartbroken that you could not be together anymore.

Bokuto succeeded in achieving his dream. He was playing in big arenas with huge crowds, on TV and he was a well-known volleyball player. The number 4 ace and captain from Fukurodani made it big, just like he promised you all those years ago.

You sighed and placed the card onto your fridge. There was still one week left until the reunion, and it wasn’t like Bokuto would show up. He was busy with volleyball, especially since a new season just started. 

You sigh and turn around to grab the warm coffee cup and head to your couch. Once seated you turn on Netflix and start a random show. Grabbing your phone, you go to the search bar on Facebook and search for your ex-boyfriend. Once the two of you had broken up you had unfriended him immediately. You knew it was going to be hard to get over him, so to save you from having to see his posts and face on Facebook, you removed him.

He’s the first one that pops up. You share mutual friends, so it isn’t that weird. You go to pictures and see him with all sorts of different people, smiling and laughing. Sometimes even looking, upset?

Sighing you close the application, lock your phone, and toss it next to you on the couch. Closing your eyes, you throw your head back against the headrest, hoping and praying that Bokuto doesn’t show up to the reunion.

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪

Wearing a black evening gown with a front slit, thin shoulder straps, and a pair of black heels you step into the big gymnasium where the rest of all the third years are gathered. A waitress walks up to you with a tray in hand, offering you a welcome drink, probably champagne. You take a glass and nod your thanks. Taking a sip, you sigh and take in your surroundings. People are standing in groups, chatting, and laughing. You see Yamato, Konoha, Haruki, Yukie, and Kaori in the middle. Konoha looks your way and you lock eyes. He smiles widely and waves you over. The rest of the gang turns around and sees you too, all of them start to yell at you to rush over.

You smile at them and head towards the squad.

“(y/n)! you’re here!” Yukie excitedly exclaims.

“Yes. Here I am,” you laugh. “How’s everyone? Haven’t seen you all in ages.”

 You stand there talking with everyone. You chug the rest of your glass and turn around to grab another just as a round of applause is heard. You follow everyone’s gaze and see someone enter the gymnasium.

“Hey, hey, heeeeeey!” The voice echoes. A familiar voice.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” You chant and shove your champagne glass to Yukie. “I need to use the loo.”

“Wait- (y/n)!” She yells after you, but you’re already headed for the door that leads you towards the nearest toilet.

Your heart is beating hard, you can feel your pulse rising. Adrenaline has kicked in and you feel nervous. You’re breathing heavily as you reach the door, turning around slightly to just peek at the man that has made you react this way.

He hasn’t spotted you yet. He’s surrounded by girls and boys, welcoming their former ace to the reunion. You stand there, the door slightly opened, your body halfway through the doorframe and take him in.

He’s wearing ripped black jeans, a matching black tee, black vans, and a light blue jean jacket. His hair is spiked the same way as usual and his golden eyes are filled with happiness. He laughs loudly and scans the room like he’s looking for someone and then his orbs land on you. The way he gazes at you makes your whole-body shiver and you feel like you can’t breathe. You stand still, watching him watch you for a second more until you turn your body back and go through the door and towards the ladies’ room.

Once inside you stand by the door, back against it, trying to control your breathing.

Okay (y/n), calm down! Act normal and don’t freak out!

After 5 minutes you turn around and push the door and walk out, walking back to the gymnasium. You pass a hallway when suddenly-

“(y/n)?”

“Jesus fucking christ!” You jump. “Don’t scare me like that.” You exclaim and turn around and are met with a pair of golden eyes.

“Ah sorry,” Bokuto speaks, his hand rubbing the back of his head. “I just wanted to see how you were feeling. You rushed out so fast.”

“I’m fine,” you sigh. “I just needed to use the toilet.”

“Oh. Okay.” There’s a long pause. Both of you are silent.

“Bokuto-kun!” A female voice yells out, interrupting the awkward silence and you turn around to see where the female is.

“I should head back. Yukie is probably waiting for me,” you lie. “It was nice seeing you Bokuto,” you smile at him and turn around to leave, but he grabs you by the forearm and pulls you towards him.

“Let’s take a walk around the school. I don’t wanna head back just yet.”

“Bokuto I-“

“Please (y/n)? I haven’t seen you in ages and I just wanna talk.”

“Fine,” you sigh.

“Great,” he smiles. “Let’s go then!” He grabbed your hand instead and intertwined his fingers with yours as he dragged you down the hallway and escaped the voice of the girl that was calling his name.

He suddenly stops outside of your old classroom and you both stand there, panting and trying to control each other’s breathing.

“Felt like a teenager doing that,” he laughs. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just need a moment.” Still panting, you stay silent, and watch his tall frame. You stand up straight and clear your throat. Bokuto turns his body sideways and looks at you.

“Do you think it’s open?”

“I don’t know, but what do you wanna talk about Bokuto?” You speak up, wanting to get away from this situation. “We broke up. We’re exes, we’re not supposed to be like this.”

The silence returns, Bokuto’s eyes never leaving yours. You watch him, still out of breath you feel an aching pain in your chest. You fist both of your hands beside your body, tears starting to form in your eyes.

“I- shit,” you curse and let out a small laugh. “I need to leave.” You’re just about to turn around when Bokuto’s right arm slams itself on the wall to your left, stopping you in your tracks. You press your back to the wall and raise your head so you can meet his gaze. His tall frame towering over you.

“Don’t,” he sighs. “Don’t leave.” You don’t listen to his plea and try to leave again but this time he slams his left arm on the wall, caging you in.

“Bokuto. Let me go!”

“No!”

“I- What?”

“I came to this reunion mainly so I could see you,” he pauses before continuing. “I made up my mind that if you came, I would try to get you back, ‘cause I still fucking love you.” His golden eyes stare right into yours. You can see the determination in them.

“The way we broke things off, I should never have ended it that way. We shouldn’t have ended it that way. If I could go back and change it, I would’ve made you come with me. I was stupid to let you go.”

“Bokuto, I-“

“And stop calling me Bokuto!” he fumes. “You never called me that while we were dating and-“

“We’re not dating now!” You respond, interrupting him.

“I know!” He slams his right fist on the wall, making you jump. You have never seen Bokuto this upset before, not even when you broke up.

“I’m sorry. Shit (y/n) I’m so sorry I don’t know what came over me. I-“

“It’s okay, Bo! It’s… fine,” you sigh out that last word. You let your head hang low, watching the ground, seeing how close his body is to you. You gulp, trying to contain your thoughts. You haven’t had any sexual contact with anyone for as long as you can remember, and seeing Bokuto now, here, this close makes you clench your thighs together. But you would not let your sexual desires over him take over. If he wanted you back, he had to tell you, and apologize.

“When I- We broke up I did it because I wanted to focus on volleyball.”

“Yeah, I know that.”

“Wait, let me finish.” You stay silent and let him continue.

“I wanted you to come with me, I wanted you with me so badly and I thought that I couldn’t let you come with me because I didn’t want you to stop chasing your dreams. Volleyball was my ambition, not yours.” He pauses for a second, collecting his thoughts and breathing before continuing. 

“But I was wrong and dumb. I didn’t ask what you wanted, I just assumed and chose for you. I should’ve talked it out with you, asked you if you wanted to come with me and I didn’t. I fucked up,” he takes a deep breath before yet again continuing talking, expressing his emotions.

“Over these past few years, I haven’t been able to let you go. You were always on my mind. You had taken over my head so bad that I started seeing things. Seeing you on the streets, in the audience while I was playing. I never stopped thinking about you. I even stalked your Facebook multiple times and-”

“You stalked my Facebook?” You look up, watching him. Your heart beating fast against your ribcage.

“Yeah, not my proudest moment but I did. I needed to see your face, needed to see what you were doing, and if you were seeing someone. If you were as miserable as I was,” he sighs, his eyes watching yours. “Please (y/n) I am desperate. I want you back. Give me a second chance. I need you back in my life. If you just give me a small chance, I will prove it to you that I will be one of the best decisions you’ll ever make.”

Bokuto sighs out loudly, like he was in pain, and places a kiss on top of your head before sinking so his eyes are in front of yours. His face just mere inches from yours.

“Just give me one chance. Just one so I can have you back. I want you (y/n). I want to be able to call you mine again. I just need one-“

You decide to instead of using words you crash your lips against his. Cutting him off mid-sentence, wrapping your arms around his neck. It only takes Bokuto a few seconds to respond by kissing you back, his body pressing itself close to yours, his forearms bracing him on the wall.  

You break off the kiss, bite your lip, and look into his golden shimmering eyes. “I never stopped loving you either.”

“Really? I expected you to have a boyfriend or fiancé by now.”

“No,” you groan. “I tried dating, but nobody compares to you.” He smiles widely at your words. Like a kid on Christmas morning.

“I’ll try to give you everything I can Bo, I’ll try-“

“Everything means nothing if I can’t have you (y/n)!” Blushing you look down, but Bokuto grabs your face in his hands and presses a kiss on your lips again. And again. You fist a handful of his shirt in your palms and press your body close to his, feeling his semi poking you and showing how much he wants you.

“You’re mine, (y/n). I love you so much,” he moans against your lips and then pushes his tongue inside of your mouth. His hands moving to grab your ass, pushing your pelvis against his. “I’m gonna prove it to you. I need you now. No time to waste.”

He pushes himself off you and turns around, trying to open your old classroom door and to his luck it does. His wide smile is back as he ushers you in.

“Wait- Bo! We can’t, not here.”

“Aww c’mon baby, it’ll be fun and besides,” he pauses, still looking at you as he undoes his belt. “I always wanted to fuck you in this classroom back in the day.”

His sentence makes you hurry inside, and you look around the now unfamiliar classroom. You hear Bokuto close and lock the door, the sound of his zipper being pulled down makes you turn around and face him. His pants are undone but still around his hips.

“Come here baby,” obeying, you take a few steps forward and stop once you’re in front of him. Both of his hands grab you by the waist and pull you forward, his lips instantly crashing to yours. His lips don’t stay on yours too long as they start to travel down the side of your neck towards your exposed collarbone. While his lips are giving your upper body some attention, his hands push your dress up, exposing your black lace thong to his fingertips.

Bokuto recognizes the material and stops his movements just so he can peek at your underwear. He grunts.

“Do you… like them?”

“I love them, baby. Jesus Christ.” Bokuto’s lips return to yours, his index and middle finger tracing the outline of your slit, making you squirm. He then removes them and ushers you to get up on one of the desks, and you do, but not before you remove your thong as sexy as you can, and throw it on the ground nearby.

“Babe, you’re gonna be the death of me!” he exclaims in a groan and hurries back to you. His body standing between your thighs. A slight breeze passes making you shudder, your nipples peek through your dress. Bokuto notices this and instantly with both of his hands, he pushes your dress down your arms and chest, making your breast spring free.

“Haven’t touched these girls in years,” he speaks while palming them both. “So beautiful.”

“Bo- I-“

“Shh love. It’s all about you now,” he removes his right hand just so he can tease your opening. Lubricating your core with your wetness before inserting a finger inside you, making you moan and throw your head back.

“Baby. Look at me,” he groans. You pull your head back and watch him. He removes his left hand and places it beside you, bracing all his weight on it while his other hand is occupied with your cunt. His finger going in and out of you, your walls clamping around him tightly. He snickers at how wet you feel around him and adds another finger, his middle and ring finger are fucking you slowly, too slow for your liking.

“Bokuto, please. I want more,” you moan.

“Easy now baby, I wanna savor this moment. Feeling your wet cunt around my fingers after such a long time,” he grunts. “God baby, you’re so wet.”

“I know, it’s all for you Bokuto.”

He licks his lips seductively and leans in closer to you, his breath hits your neck and makes your whole body shudder. His tongue comes out and licks you up from your collarbone to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe and making you let out a sigh in pleasure.

“Do you like that, hmm?” He snickers. “Do you like my fingers inside you (y/n)?”

“Y-Yes Bo, I-I love them,” you moan. He lets out a slight “fuck” as he rests his forehead on your shoulder and thrusts his digits harder inside your wet and aching core. Wanting you to cum so badly. He arches his fingers inside you, making them hit your g-spot.

“Bo, please. I’m so close,” you groan. “I want to cum so badly, please.” You keep on whining to him, the once familiar feeling returning to the pit of your stomach. The pressure in your lower abdomen is getting higher and higher. Your legs start to shake and in just a couple of seconds, you’re releasing yourself around his fingers, your right-hand wraps itself around his wrist, nails digging into his soft skin as you moan out loudly from orgasming. 

“Kou!” you scream, your walls clamping themselves around him, his fingers still going in and out of you, your legs shaking and your pelvis grinding itself on his hand. Eyes closed and mouth wide open and panting, trying to get your breathing under control.

After a minute, you open your eyes and are met by a smug smile as he removes his fingers and raises his hand to his lips, licking your juices off his fingers while still maintaining eye contact with you. 

“I missed the taste of you baby,” he groans. His long fingers going inside that beautiful mouth of his. A big smile on his lips, his excitement palpable. 

Once he has licked his fingers clean, he moves his hands to his pants and starts to pull them down his long legs along with his briefs, his cock springing free and colliding with his lower abdomen. Precum leaking from the tip. 

Your eyes are glued on his hard member. It’s as beautiful as you remember, two veins going around his shaft, the pink head craving attention. 

Your eyes never leave his crotch as his hand goes down and wraps itself around his hard cock, moving up and down slowly.

“You’re so eager, I love it baby, so sexy when you look at me like that,” his voice speaks, making you look up and meet his golden eyes. He takes a small step forward and with his hand that’s around his cock he traces your lips, mixing his precum with your wetness. 

“Wait Kou- Condom!” You moan. The fact that you managed to even utter those words surprised you, but you didn’t know who he’s been with.

“I didn’t bring one,” he answers. “Guess I’ll just have to cum inside you instead,” he groans and rams himself inside you. Your walls clenching around him tightly. Your heat making his cock twitch from excitement. 

“Fuck Kou, you- you feel amazing.”

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby. I can feel you pulsating around me.” He’s still for a moment, letting you get used to him. Had he gotten bigger since you last were with him? Or had it just been such a long time since you’ve had sex? It didn’t matter to you, you loved the feeling of him stretching your walls, making your tight cunt ache for him to move.

His hips backtrack only to force themself back to you, colliding and hitting your g-spot, making you throw your head back and grip the edge of the table hard. Your eyes are closed as you take in all the pleasure that he’s giving you. He repeats the same action, he grunts and you moan at the friction.

“Baby look at me,” he moans, his hand going to your cheek, holding it with his large palm. “I want you to look at me.”

You answer him by moaning, opening your (y/e/c) eyes looking at him, pleasure displayed on his handsome face as he starts to increase both his speed and the power of his thrusts. His hips colliding against yours with a strong force. The pleasure is displayed on your face, a lewd look as you’re loving the way he continues to ram himself inside of you.

“I’m gonna cum inside of that pretty cunt, baby. I’m gonna fill you up with my cum,” he moans loudly, not caring if anyone hears him. He loved the excitement of knowing you could get busted having sex in your old classroom but he didn’t care. He had craved you for 3 long years and he wasn’t going to let this moment pass up. 

“I want a future with you,” he continues. “I want to marry you. I want to get you pregnant.” 

This makes your cunt clench for him. Your walls clamping themselves tightly around him. Marrying him? Pregnant? 

"Oh, you'd like that baby? You want me to breed you, baby?" His thrust hits hard, his cock going deep into your core. His eyes travel down, watching his cock going and out of you. The wetness surrounding it like lube, making it easy for him to thrust in and out of you. His gaze is locked on where both of you connect, watching the way your cunt swallows him whole.

"Fuck baby. Beg for me to fill you, I know you love the feel of my cum inside you."

"Oh god Kou, please fill me with your cum. Breed me," you almost sing. Your voice is filled with all kinds of emotions, pleasure consuming you.

"You want me to breed you, baby? Fill you up with all my sperm," he moans, his hands holding your hips in place as his thrusts got deeper and deeper inside you. The tip of his cock grazing your g-spot viciously, the pressure in your abdomen getting stronger after each thrust. The thought of you swollen with his child made him even harder and closer to reaching his climax. 

"Cum for me baby, I want you to cum for me. Cum with me. I'm so close," his thrusts get sloppier and you know he is near his release. 

"Cum with me Koutarou. Let's do it together."

"Fuck (y/n)," his whole body stills as he ejaculates inside you. The warmth of his semen spurting in you, coating your walls and you follow him soon afterward. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you coat his cock with your release. 

Your body is shaking from the intense orgasm you just had, your teeth biting into your lower lip and you feel him move, his still hard cock going in and out of you. Bokuto is making sure that his cum doesn’t come out, to make sure you’re bred and hoping you get pregnant from this. 

"Mhm Kou," you moan. Your eyes glance up to his face. A big smile was plastered on his lips. 

"That was so hot baby. I want more."

"I don't think I can stand," you giggle. His eyes are watching you, the smile on your face making his heart squeeze harder and being filled with all his love for you. 

"What now?" Your tender voice asks. 

"I'm waiting."

"... On what?" 

"For you to calm down before I go for round two,” he smirks. 

“W-Wait. Hold on. Round two?”

“You didn’t think I was already finished with you, baby? I’m just getting started.” With that being said, he flips you over. The action making his cock get pulled out from your heat. 

You’re bent over and your front is pressed against the now warm desk. His hands start to caress your body, from the base of your neck to your naked ass. He gives your ass some attention before slapping each cheek, making you jump from the sudden action.

"I could just cum from the sight of you," he grunts. "I'm gonna cum inside you again, to make sure you're bred."

"Kou-tarou~," you moan as he enters you without warning, his cock rock hard and coated in both your juices and his semen. His hands holding your hips still as he thrusts deep inside you. Ramming his cock hard into your wet and tight core. His fingertips are digging hard into your flawless skin, leaving a mark but you don’t care. The only thing that’s going through your mind right now is the way his cock is pounding into your wet and swollen cunt.

"I won't stop until you're dripping with my cum, to be sure you're pregnant with my child," he almost screams. "Jesus fuck baby the way you clench around me is wonderful."

Your cunt clenches harder around his cock, the thought of being pregnant with his child makes you reach some kind of bliss that you never thought you could. The soft image pops up in your mind for a second, but it’s soon gone as one of his hands grabs your shoulder, his other following suit.

You can feel his semen leaking out as he continues to ram into you, and you know he notices it cause he lets out a snicker. 

"My cum is seeping out of your pussy, but I'll fill you up again baby. I'll fill you up again and again."

"Kou- I'm gonna cum again," you moan. Your left hand holding the edge of the desk while your right one is in front of you, trying to grab something and it does as Bokuto's right hand comes forward and intertwines with yours, clamping around it. His body pressed against yours. Feeling his breath on your neck.

"Say it, baby, say what I want to hear."

"P-Put a baby inside me Koutarou please."

"Fuck yes," he moans vocally, biting down on your neck as he fills your cunt with his cum, the feel of his cum inside you again makes you clench around him and you reach your climax. 

"Yeah, my cum makes you orgasm so fucking hard right baby?"

"Mhm," you answer, too worn out to even form your own words. 

You press the side of your face on the desk and close your eyes. You're breathing heavily, so is Bokuto. His warm breath hitting your neck, making goosebumps form on all of your body. 

"(y/n)?"

"Yeah?" 

"I'm getting soft."

"Oh my god!" You giggle. 

"Stop. You're making me fall out, stop it!" This makes you laugh out loud, this man who just minutes ago went all sex god on you is now filled with concern. 

"Are you alright though? I wasn't too hard? Or rough? Or-"

"Baby, you were perfect," you answer in a giggle, interrupting his worrying self. 

There's a comfortable silence surrounding you both, not a single word is uttered. The only sound is the sound of your breathing. 

Suddenly you feel him move and pull himself out of you. Bokuto is fast with tucking himself inside his briefs and pulling his pants up, buckling his belt too. While doing this, you feel his cum seeping out from your hole.

"Hold on I'm on it," his voice speaks and you can hear him look for something to clean you up with. "This will do."

He's back fast and with some paper towels that are not very nice to your lady parts, and he cleans you up. The feeling of the paper made you wince, both from being sensitive and roughly fucked by your ex and now boyfriend, but also from the paper not being soft enough for your liking. 

"I'm done, there," he softly speaks, his voice filled with tenderness but also worry, that it was hurting you. He wasn't. He was doing something so much more, and you loved him for that. 

Getting up and getting dressed was the part where it got uncomfortable for you, his eyes stared at you as you dressed, fixing both your gown and hair, making it not look like you’ve just been fucked. 

Your thoughts wander to what had just happened. Was this just some kind of roleplay or did he want to impregnate you? Not that it mattered for you, you couldn’t care less because you got what you had wanted for years. Him.

Once you’re done you turn around and see that Bokuto is already watching you, a big smile on his lips. 

"What?"

"Nothing. You’re just so beautiful I can stare at you all night.”

"I-" you blush. “Thank you.”

"Now,” he says as he takes a small step forward and grabs you by the waist, pulling you closer to him. His smile still there and you can see how his eyes are glowing. 

“I love you,” he kisses you. “I love you so much (y/n). You’re the love of my life.”

"Again."

"Huh?" He turns his head to the side, not knowing what you mean. 

"Say it again. I need to hear it again." With confidence, he grabs your face in his hands and holds you in place. His eyes watching yours and with the softest smile on his lips, he says: 

"I love you.”

"I love you too." You sigh in happiness and he seals your lips with a passionate kiss. Both of you smiling through the kiss in pure bliss. 

He pulls away and grabs your hand and starts to lead you out of the classroom and in the opposite direction of the party. Confusion consumes you as you speak.

"Kou, baby. The party is that way," you giggle and point down the other side of the hall. 

"I know. We're not returning."

"We're not?" You ask in confusion.

"No."

"Why not?" He stops in his tracks and you collide with his rock hardback. He turns around, smirking.

"We have 3 years of lovemaking to do and I want you in my bed when doing that." He returns and walks you out and into the parking lot, leading to his car and a future of you and him together again. Nothing could stop you now.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Daddy Issues | Draco Malfoy

Wow I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disappear like that Lovelies! Sometimes I forget depression and writers block are a thing until they punch me in the face and force me to go MIA for a hundred years! I guess I’m back? I hope? Fingers crossed? Anyway, I’m sorry this isn’t a TVD fic but I figured Y’all would appreciate something over nothing. I missed you all more than I can say! I hope you enjoy, I love you all!

Description: Draco and y/n are best friends until Draco’s father threatens y/n. She avoids Draco until he confronts her.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: Like none, it’s kinda sad but not really, the only flaw is bad writing

Word count: 3.4k

Tags: Angst, FLUFF

(not my gif, I just love it lol)

Your heart stings from across the courtyard, the gap between you and the blonde boy tangible. For a second you don't know whether or not your heart is even in your chest anymore or if it’s in his hands. In that case your heart is sitting on a bench, sandwiched between Blaise Zabini and Vincent Crabbe. Maybe he isn’t holding your heart, though, maybe he is your heart, in which case you’re avoiding your heart’s piercing gaze. 

Your hands twitch at your sides, itching to grab his or to twist through his silky hair or do anything other than lay idle when he is only mere steps away from you. Your hands ache to touch him and usually you would be doing just that: clinging to his robes or twisting the rings around on his fingers or simply tangling your own fingers with his slender ones. Your hands feel painfully empty without him to hold on to. 

That makes sense though, he’s your best friend after all. You’re rarely ever spotted less than five feet away from each other. Everyone at Hogwarts can see how utterly entwined you are, every part of him wrapped around your finger and every part of you sitting precisely in the palm of his hand. You orbit each other, drawn in by a gravity that the rest of the student body can’t deny.

Right now, though, that gravity is being tested and everyone feels a little bit like they’re floating away. 

Draco sits exactly seventeen feet and four inches away from you. You can feel his eyes on the back of your head, like lasers, searing into your black and gold jumper and refusing to look away. It burns but you embrace it, taking any contact, even imagined, that you can get from him. Even if it hurts. You would gladly burn for the blonde Slytherin if it made him happy. This doesn’t make him happy, though, being ignored by the girl that commands his entire life. You know that, but you also know that it’s for the best. 

You run your hands through your hair, tugging on the strands relentlessly and closing your eyes. You see his father, the tall, grim man, and replay the conversation you had in your head. 

“He has a bright future ahead of him, y/n.” 

Lucious had backed you into a corner, both metaphorically and literally, the stone of the castle biting harshly into your skin, “I know that, sir.”

He stood tall, menacingly, like he was bigger than the castle itself, “he doesn’t have time for nonsense, y/n.”

Your hands trembled, the cold of the dungeon nipping at them fiercely, “he’s very bright, Mr. Malfoy, I don’t think I’m slowing him down.”

The neutral, if not cold, expression on his face switched then to one of red hot anger, “did I ask what you think? It’s time the two of you separate. He is to be married next year and not to some silly Hufflepuff girl.”

“We’re just friends, sir,” your eyes had long since found the floor.

“Don’t be daft, my son is infatuated with you. If I catch you near him from this day on I will not hesitate to destroy you, do you understand me? Do not speak to him again.”

That was two weeks ago and you haven’t dared to go near him since, spending every waking moment of your spare time in the Hufflepuff common room. You aren’t brave, you didn’t march up to your best friend and tell him that his father threatened to destroy you. You would be lying if you said you even thought about it. The reality of it is that you’re a coward and have iced Draco out in fear of having his father hurt either of you.  

His father’s words still ring in your head. Don’t be daft, my son is infatuated with you. Your heart flutters hard in your chest, your rib cage the only barrier keeping it from finding him across the courtyard. Draco is infatuated with you. Apparently. He hasn’t said so, only his father. Still, you can’t help but hope that it’s true.

But then that makes your chest burn and palms sting again. You aren’t allowed to hope that Draco wants you. You aren’t even allowed to hope that he wants to be your friend. You’re not allowed anywhere near him, let alone allowed to kiss him. Would he even kiss you? Probably not. You tug even harder on your hair, as if pulling each strand out will somehow take the pain away. Don’t be daft.

“Y/n,” gentle hands wrap around your tight fists, “you’re hurting yourself.”

You forgot Luna was there, sitting next to you on the bench, the bench that is seventeen feet and four inches away from Draco. You let the airy Ravenclaw unravel your fingers and hold one of your hands, rubbing circles on the back of your palm. It doesn’t feel the same, her grip is too soft, her fingers too short. Draco’s fingers are longer. 

You shake your head, trying to clear the fog of him from your senses, “sorry, I know I’m not the best company right now.”

Luna only smiles at you and rolls her eyes gently, “I know it’s hard for you right now.”

Of course you told her. You weren’t able to tell Draco so you turned to Luna, your other best friend. You nod your head at the blonde girl, too tired to speak. 

“I think you should tell him though, he looks bloody miserable without you,” your eyes widen as if on their own accord.

You feel dizzy at the thought and not the good kind like when Draco spins you around. No, this is the bad kind of ‘I’m definitely going to throw up’ dizzy. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears rapidly. Thump, thump, thump. It almost sounds like footsteps, angry ones, pounding towards you. That can’t be right.

“I can’t tell him, Luna, you know that.”

A hand lands on your shoulder, warmth spreading through your jumper. You open your mouth, ready to thank Luna for relentlessly comforting you, but close it quickly when a thought hits you. You glance down to your lap, just to double check. There, on your lap rests your hand carefully wrapped up in both of Luna’s. Crap. 

“What can’t you tell me?” It takes everything in you to not let his familiar voice curl around you and pull you further into his touch.

You shift out of his hold, not turning to look at him yet, afraid to see the expression on his face. Would it be anger? Sadness? Disgust? The last one makes your heart drop, the thought of the blonde boy being repulsed by you causing you to curl into yourself slightly. You would take anything from him but that.

You stand curtly, turning to face Draco, all too aware of the lack of space between you and him. Six inches at the most, every breath he takes makes his chest brush yours. You still don’t look up at him, not anywhere ready to meet the eyes of the boy you’ve been avoiding. 

You lock your eyes on his silver and green tie, mumbling to it instead of him, “What makes you think I was talking about you, Draco?”

You finally glance up at him and wish you hadn’t. His eyes, usually a bright blue, are dull and rimmed with red. The bruises under his eyes stand out against his cheeks. He’s always had dark circles but this is extreme. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, like he hasn’t eaten in days. It’s almost garish, but then again nothing could ever make the Slytherin Prince look anything less than perfect. He looks destroyed, almost as if his father had gotten to him too. You have to stop yourself from reaching out, choosing instead to look away again.

“Are you serious right now? Tell me this is all a joke y/n!” The courtyard goes silent when Draco raises his voice.

You squeeze your fists, the tone of his voice a punch in the gut. He never shouts at you. Draco is never anything but soft around you. Right now, however, he’s seething. No one around you dares to make a sound.

You close your eyes, trying desperately to stop a traitorous flood of tears, “Draco, please don’t do this right now.”

Draco takes a step back, as if your words had shoved him, “if not now then when? You’ve given me no choice! You run every time you see me, you don’t answer my notes. Do you even read them anymore? Can you just explain why you bloody hate me?”

His voice cracks when he says hate, like its acid in his mouth. In any way it’s acid to your ears. You could never hate Draco, it’s very much the opposite actually. You’re painfully in love with him.

“I don’t,” you have to pause to clear your throat, trying to rid the lump, “I could never hate you.”

His hand grasps you chin gently, his rings cold against your skin as he pulls your face up to meet his eyes, “then tell me what’s going on. Please.”

You squeeze your eyes close, sinking into the warmth of his palm for a moment. You can’t remember a time you’ve gone this long without the blonde boy touching you. You can’t stop the tears from trailing down your cheeks and into his palm. You can feel the hitch in his breath as if it had come from your own lungs. You wrap your own hands around his, squeezing his fingers gently before pulling them away from you.

“I can’t, Dra. We can’t do this anymore. I’m,” your voice trembles, your eyes still closed, his hand still locked in yours, “I’m not good for you. We can’t be friends.”

You release his hand, taking a few steps back from the love of your life. This time, though, he doesn’t let you get as far, taking two steps towards you for every step you take away from him. It doesn’t take him long before he’s in front of you again, closer and even more determined. His eyes burn into yours, his hands restless. You know he wants to touch you. At least, you hope he does. You want to.

“Don’t say that,” there’s a strength behind his words, one you have yet to hear until now, “don’t you dare say that! Tell me what’s going on y/n, you need to tell me! I can fix it. I can make it better whatever it is just please tell me. Please, love.”

Love. That’s new. Your heart cracks even more when he says it and maybe that’s because you know you won’t get to hear it again. You wish you could grab the word from his lips and hold on to it. You want to put it in your pocket so at least you can have a part of him, the very best part of him, for when he walked away. But you can’t, so there’s no use in trying. 

“You can’t fix it this time, Draco,” you take another step back and your back hits the rough surface of a tree.

He fills the space between the two of you once more and this time you’re stuck. Your palms continue to sting, reminding you relentlessly how much you need to touch him. You scrunch the hem of your jumper, trying desperately to quell the pain. Your wrists feel like they’re on fire, something you’ve come to realise that means you’re about to have a panic attack. He can't see that happen, you refuse to fall apart in front of him. 

Of course he notices, though. That’s your Draco, he notices everything about you. That’s his job. 

He grabs your face again, stopping you from frantically looking everywhere but him, “of course I can. When have I not fixed your problems? Remember when those Ravenclaws’ were messing with you? I took care of that, didn’t I? And Parkinson? Zabini? I took care of them too. Remember when Snape wouldn’t let you hand in your assignment because you had the flu? And the time you passed out in the stairwell? I fixed those too because I can. Because I wanted to and I do what I want. Now, all I’ve wanted for days is you so if someone said something to you I need you to tell me so I can sort them out and get my best friend back. Now.”

He stares into your eyes the entire time, daring you to turn away. You feel like you can’t breathe, your hands once again wrapped around his but this time clinging for dear life. You’ve been terrified for two weeks and the exhaustion hits you in one, whopping punch to your stomach, the second punch of the day. Without warning your legs give out, all of your weight falling into the blonde who seems to expect it. His arms wrap around you, holding you against his chest for the first time in what feels like ages.

You don’t realise that you’re sobbing until you try to speak, “Dra, I’m so scared. I’m tired,” you grip his robes in your fists, your head falling against his chest, “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, I feel like I’m falling apart.”

He pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you and holding you against him. You can feel the sigh of relief he releases and his heartbeat slowing as if it’s your own. Maybe that’s because yours does the same. For the first time in weeks you’re engulfed in Draco and you cling to him, circling your arms around his waist and pulling yourself impossibly close. He wastes no time either, wrapping his cloak around you and burying his face in your neck. 

Your body shakes furiously in his arms, everything you’ve been bottling up comes pouring out in a torrent of sobs and hiccups. Draco presses closer to you, towering over you and shielding you from the rest of the world. You let his peppermint scent engulf you completely,

“For Salazar’s sake y/n I need you to tell me what’s wrong. I need to fix it, love. Please tell me,” his voice is low and choked.

He’s right, you know he’s right. You squeeze your eyes tighter and grip his back, savouring the muscles under his dress shirt for a few more seconds before you know you’ll have to let go.

“Your father told me we couldn’t see each other anymore. He told me,” you pull out of his arms, leaning back against the tree, “he said, well, it doesn’t matter what he said. We just can’t be together.” Draco’s eyes widen and your cheeks heat up, your words ringing through your ears, “I mean we can’t be friends.”

Draco steps closer to you, running a hand through his hair and closing his eyes. He mumbles something under his breath that you can’t hear but you’re almost positive that it’s a curse. When he opens his eyes, your heart stops. His blue eyes burn into yours, glassy and angry but with something else too, something hot and fierce. Your heart restarts when he places his arms against the tree, caging you between it and him. You can’t resist placing your hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat pick up as well.

“What did my father say, y/n.” He isn’t asking you, he’s telling you.

You lower your eyes, not bothering to fight him anymore, “he told me he would destroy me if I kept being friends with you. He said you were getting married and that you could never marry a Hufflepuff and that he would destroy me if he had to.”

He staggers back with each word, like each one shoves him more than the last. He squeezes his fists before straightening his fingers, shoving them once more through his hair. His shoulders are tense, his back straight. His eyes are screwed shut again. 

“Bloody hell,” he pulls at his hair, biting his lip, “he’s lost his damn mind.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, tugging at your jumper, suddenly hot all over. Now is not the time to be getting riled up over Draco but you can’t help it, he looks exquisite. Messy hair and an un-tucked shirt, the veins in his hand prominent and his rings glittering in the afternoon sun. He’s absolutely and undeniably perfect.

“It’s ok, Dra, you’ll be ok,” you try your best to comfort him but he snaps his eyes open, looking at you like you’ve gone mad as well.

“My dad threatened to kill you! No I am not okay!”

This time you walk to him, pulling him into your chest again and wrapping your arms around his neck. He sweeps his arms around your waist, pulling you so close that you have to stand on your tiptoes to keep your arms around him. His hands grasp your hips tight and you immediately know what he wants. You oblige, wanting it just as much if not more, jumping up and wrapping your legs around his stomach. You tuck your face into his neck this time, breathing in the slightest hint of apples, green ones. 

You don’t speak, practically feeling the words bubbling in his chest, “My dad told you he was going to kill you, love. He threatened you and he didn’t even tell me. I am definitely not okay. I need to do something. I need to talk to him. And he told you I was getting married? He’s lucky he isn’t here. I don’t care if he’s my father, nobody talks to my girl like that.”

He’s rambling, something he does when he’s at his end. His words wrap around you, tangling with every part of you and sinking into your skin. They lull you into a daze of sorts, almost nodding off on your best friends shoulder. You don’t realise how tired you are until you’re in his arms, safe. And then it hits you, and you’re wide awake again.

“Your girl?”

You cut him off mid sentence, squeezing your legs tighter around him to bring his attention back to you.

“What did you say, love?” Draco hikes you further up his body, readjusting his grip on you.

Your cheeks flame, your neck hot. His eyes bore into yours, searching for something that you’re not quite sure you’re ready to give. His lips are so close to yours, his breath hitting your lips with every exhale. The courtyard around you fades away and Hogwarts itself holds its breath.

“Did you call me your girl, Draco?”

He doesn’t blush like you thought he would, “yes, I did. That’s what you are. Mine. And Merlin help my father for trying to take you away from me.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, letting his words sink into your flesh. They curl around your bones, laying down a warmth that you’ve been craving for longer than you can remember. He’s right. Of course he’s right, he’s Draco. You are his and you always have been. His arm around your back tightens, jostling you enough to make you cling harder to him. Your fingers find their way to the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair. He leans his head back, giving in to your touch willingly. 

He holds your gaze as your fingers weave through his silky hair, capturing you with his eyes and refusing to let go, “I’m yours, Draco. Please don’t let me go.”

He leans his forehead against yours, “never, love.”

Hogwarts releases the breath it had been holding, the noise of the courtyard once more fluttering around you. You go to get down from Draco but he stops you, tightening his arms. You only shake your head and smile, letting the sunshine warm your face.

Your heart aches slightly still though, “what are we going to do about your father, Dra?

He starts walking, the sudden movement causing you to tug his hair a little harder.

His voice is strained when he finally answers, leaning down to rub his cheek against your head, “just let me handle that, ok?” 

You give in, for now, laying your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes for the final time, “where are we going, Dra?”

“We, my love, are going to take a very much needed nap.” 

[wri0thesley]

omg wait no hold on I just requested overhaul but then I remembered your overhaul thirst post about him pulling a "curing hysteria~" as an excuse and thought I'd request something along that vibe (no oun intended). I think that'd fall under orgasm control, overstim? (hope this is okay!)

hysteria antidote - overhaul x fem!reader (4k)

seeing nothing but the same four walls every day of your life is playing havoc with your brain. overhaul thinks perhaps you're suffering from hysteria. he has the perfect cure for that.

cw: not sfw/minors dni. dark content!!! dubious/non-consent. captive reader. talk of death, blood, etc. medical kink, gloves, fingering, overstimulation, orgasm control. misogyny. mentions of pregnancy/breeding. afab reader, fem pronouns.

[a/n: idk the internet said the 28th of may was his birthday so consider this both a birthday fic and a fic to celebrate 6k followers, sorry that i am gross and horrible but tbh im having a great time <3]

You really don’t think it’s unreasonable for you to be going out of your mind.

Since the Boss was taken ill, and Kai – Overhaul, you remind yourself, though he’s always just a little less sharp with you when you trip over the new name than he is with anyone else – took over leadership of the Shie Hassaikai, you’ve been pretty much stuck indoors.

Considering that you’re pretty sure he only has fond feelings towards maybe three people in the entire world, including you, you guess you ought to feel special about it – but all it actually does is make you feel like a trapped bird, caged and restless. It doesn’t help that all of the other members of the organisation have started being weird around you; people who you’ve known most of your adult life, people who you’ve worked beside and killed beside and done other horrible things beside (for the good of the organisation, of course)--

But now, they look at you like you might break at any moment. They treat you like an invalid. Their brows crease when they see you out and about, quietly murmuring; “Shouldn’t you still be in your room?”, avoiding touching you at all costs. There’s a kind of fear in their eyes, that they’re going to be told off for even speaking to you, that they’re afraid of being caught close to you.

And you know exactly who’s to blame for that.

You’d tried to speak to him about it, once; you’d thought that perhaps he might be amenable to your desire to do something to help the Shie Hassaikai. He’s always wanted to restore them to their former glory, after all! But after you’d let out your little impassioned tirade, his eyebrows had creased over the bird-mask.

“You don’t sound well,” he’d said to you. “Go back to your room. I’ll talk to you about it later.”

You had missed, at the time, that he hadn’t said ‘we’ll talk about it later’. He’d just said ‘I’ll’. When he had come, that is how it had been; the reassurance that he was keeping you safe. That he didn’t want you to be tainted. That he was keeping you well.

Your quirklessness has never been an issue before, but it certainly hasn’t been a boon. Still, for Kai--

“It’s disgusting,” he’d said, agitated by the discussion. You’d stared at his hands, thinking about the destructive power he himself wielded. “Quirks are a curse, and you not having one is just proof you’re not infected.” He’d looked up, golden eyes piercing directly into yours. “I’m going to keep you perfect.”

Overhaul is not a doctor, for all of his talk about illness and disease and plague. You think he could have used his quirk for something meaningful, once; but you also know that his burning curiousity, his disgust of anyone who deems tainted, his utter lack of morality . . . those are all things that would not have been welcomed in the medical profession. So instead, he deals in needles and pills and altering drugs in the underground labyrinth of the compound.

Sterile rooms, with examination tables and scalpels and impersonal, silver-grey equipment. Pill boxes that rattle when he passes them to you and tells you to take three of those a day, one of those, that one has to be taken to with food--

The idea that you won’t take them doesn’t enter his head, and though he has never . . . overhauled someone in front of you, you have walked past other members of the organisation mopping and disinfecting blood and gristle from sterile flooring.

It is better to go along with him, so you take the supplements and the pills and submit to the way he grabs your chin in gloved hands on the doctor’s chair, tipping your face up to shine a light into your eyes and watch your pupils dilate. But inside, you are screaming.

You’re not made to be locked in one room, occasionally allowed out to pace the hallways of the upstairs – never the underground ones, not any more – with restless footsteps and your muscles fizzing with desire to taste fresh air. You’re not made to stare at the same walls and breathe the purified air and think about how empty the compound is, now that Overhaul is in charge of everything--

(Too many knick-knacks attract dust. Pollen allergies act up, if there are too many plants, and he hates hearing people sneeze. Furniture should be easily movable and barren, to assist in the twice-daily cleanings of every room that people walk through.)

But it’s getting too much for you. Suffocating. You feel like you’re choking on air all of the time; you take the pills, because the thought of what he could do to you is terrifying, but sometimes you wonder if perhaps it would be better if you didn’t.

You’d woken up that morning to the sound of rain hitting the high windows in your bedroom, and you had longed to go outside in your thin nightwear and spread your arms and taste the air, smell the rain, feel it hit your body in fat droplets. Your entire being had ached. You’d tried to distract yourself, with what little there was in the barren prison cell that you called a bedroom – but when the door opened at four thirty exactly, and Kai had stood there with his face as impassive as ever, you had not been able to stop yourself.

Hand fastening around his upper arm (you shouldn’t touch him, you know you shouldn’t, but the same four walls are getting to you), you’d begged him;

“I want to go outside.”

If anyone else had touched him like that, they would already be splattered against the walls and floor. But all you get is a furrow of his eyebrows, careful fingers (gloved, of course; the latex against your skin always makes you shudder) pinching at your hand to get you to let go of him.

“No,” he says. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“I don’t care,” you’re petulant, you know, frustration bubbling up in every cell of your body. “If I stay in here for one more day, I will tear myself into pieces.”

“You’re being over-dramatic.”

“Kai—”

“Don’t call me that.” His rebuttal is sharp. “You know I’m doing this for your own good.”

Your face twists into something ugly. Overhaul hates it when you do that; hates the way your brow wrinkles, your mouth moves, your normally lovely face (one of very few he can bear to look at unmasked and not feel as though he is going to get sick from merely breathing the same air of you) marred.

“You’re not,” you hiss at him. “You’re doing this because you’re fucked up! Because you’ve got some weird fucking ideas about what’s clean and what’s unclean, because you’re on a power trip, because you don’t care about other people--” Your voice is pitching and modulating, all of the things that you usually try and keep balled up inside of you spilling out that the floodgates of how unhappy you are is open.

You’re breathing heavy as Overhaul, clearly irked by what you’re saying, tugs at the wrist of one of his surgical gloves. If he’s going to kill you, good – at least it will be better than this, you think, your breath coming in short sharp pants after the outburst.

He lets go. His hands fall to his sides. His golden gaze on you is very level.

“You’re hysterical,” he tells you. An exasperated laugh falls from your mouth.

“Yeah?” You ask him. “Of course I am. Do you know the last time I breathed fresh air?”

“Seven months, two weeks, three days.” He says it without blinking. Your shoulders tense. Has it really been that long? “You haven’t been ill once in that time. The world out there is filthy.”

“It’s normal to get sick,” you try and tell him, but Overhaul is moving forward; past the doorway, and into your room. The door clicks shut behind him, the sound of a lock ominous. You don’t think you’ve ever been alone with Kai in your bedroom.

In the medical examination rooms, sure. In his office. In common areas, back when he was just the boss’ troubled protege and not the boss himself--

His eyebrows twitch in disgust as he notices the dust on your bookshelves. You’d stopped letting any of the cleaners in here a month ago; you’d refused to clean in the mean time, taking whatever small victory against your captor that you could.

“You’ll give yourself respiratory issues,” he says.

“Good,” your voice is cold, but you realise you’ve backed away from him. For all of your attempts to stand up to him, you’re terrified. Everyone knows what he can do. “Better dead than here--”

Gloved fingers around your wrist, so tight you can practically feel them bruising.

“You don’t mean that,” he says. His voice has gotten softer, cajoling. You’re trembling in his grip. “I told you. You’re hysterical.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying,” you say, but your words feel like you’re spitting them out around a mouthful of gravel. “I—I’m calm--”

Your knees knock against your bed, but Overhaul is still clinging to you; still too close. Your heart is beating so fast that you can hear it pounding in your ears.

“You’re not. You’re hysterical.” He repeats it, calmly. The hand not on your wrist reaches up and cups your face, a gloved thumb stroking across your cheek as if you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever touched. The scent of the latex is overwhelming. “But that’s alright. It’s not your fault.” He clicks his tongue behind the mask. “It’s mine. All of this checking for the physical sickness, and I didn’t think about checking your head.”

You fall onto the bed as his knees knock against yours, your back hitting the wall. It’s just a plain, single bed; rumpled sheets, because you’d fought against any attempt for someone to come in and collect your laundry, too. Overhaul looks silly in your room, you think dimly; like a huge black crow in the nest of a small, frightened wren.

“If you fight,” he tells you, “I’ll disassemble you. I’d rather not. I don’t want to taint you by using my quirk. But . . .” He’s sinking to his knees in front of you, those same methodical hands pushing up the skirt of your dress. “If I did, I’d get a blank mind to work with. I won’t hesitate. But I’d still rather simply fix you without having to break you into pieces first.”

You know him too well to think that he’s bluffing.

After all of the vitriol you’ve spat at him, he’s unwilling to kill you. Would it be worse, to be mindless and brainless under Kai’s quirk? You’ve heard some of his failed experiments before; babbling, drooling, broken things. He’s killed them sometimes just to put them out of their misery.

What if he did that, and your mind remained perfectly capable – just utterly unable to communicate with your body? A prisoner in your own skin. Worse than even now. You swallow back the lump of fear.

“H-how are you going to do that?” You ask him.

You start at how cold the gloved fingers are on your bare thighs, as Overhaul pushes them apart. Cold fear prickles down your spine. You’re too scared to fight back, but everything he’s doing is making you want to run.

“Did you know,” Overhaul says, those same hands sliding higher, to tug at the waistband of your underwear. “In the past, there were rumours that doctors would cure hysteria by genital massage and stimulation?”

His words are very clinical, but there’s a thickness to his voice behind the mask that fills you with revulsion.

“It might be nonsense, of course,” he says. Your underwear is being tugged down, pulled around your thighs, your knees, your ankle. “They theorised that the best cure was regular intercourse, male semen, pregnancy and childbirth--”

“Kai—” Your voice is a soft whine, fear-filled. This time, he doesn’t snap at you for calling him by the name he’s left behind. He simply says;

“Spread your legs.”

You don’t want to. But you want to risk what he’s threatening you with even less, so you tearfully open them as wide as you can go. He shifts forward, and the tip of the beaked mask digs into your inner thigh as he studies you like you’re nothing more than a diagram, not a living, breathing person--

“Next time I’ll have lubricant ready,” he says, under his breath, and your heart seizes up at the implication that whatever he’s going to do to you, there’ll be a next time.

You start at the sensation of gloved fingers gently parting the lips of your sex, Overhaul’s golden eyes drinking in the sight of you spread open and bare. You’re shaking, but for some reason the way he’s looking at you – the utter concentration in his eyes – makes a curl of heat flare deep inside of you.

“Don’t,” you breathe, trying not to squirm. “Please--”

“I don’t want to have to,” he says. His tone remains calm, unbothered. “I’m doing it for your own good, you know that. Just helping you along.” One finger slides through the slit; the sensation of the gloves against your most intimate, heated parts makes the muscles in your thighs clench. It’s . . . not exactly unpleasant, but neither it is pleasant. “Do you think I’m getting any pleasure out of this?”

He doesn’t like getting his hands dirty. You know this; everyone knows this. If this particular thought was so unpleasant to him, you don’t doubt he’d have found somebody else to do it (the thought of one of the other members of the Shie Hassaikai doing this to you fills you with even more revulsion than the idea of Overhaul himself). But you can’t say that out loud. Not after what he’s threatened. So you press your lips together and shake your head, gasp dying in your throat as one of Overhaul’s latex-covered fingers prods gently around your opening.

“You’re getting wet,” he tells you, as if you can’t feel the shameful slick beginning to leak from you. “That will make this easier. Good.”

You hate that the praise makes another jolt of arousal go through you. You don’t want to like the feeling of his gloves, rubbing at your heated cunt; the sensation of a fingertip circling around your entrance, brushing the bud of your clit and making you want to clamp your thighs around his hand.

He sinks the tip of one finger inside of you and you jerk, your hips out of your control as you try and sink away from the intrusion. Overhaul clicks his tongue again in annoyance at you. The hand holding the lips of your cunt open moves, to land on your hip and pin you between the bed and the wall so you can’t squirm again.

“I’ll sedate you next time, if I have to,” he says. “I’m not getting anything out of this. I’d prefer not to have to do it at all--”

He’s lying. You know he is. But you can’t call him out for it, so you press your trembling lips together and try to stop tears spilling out from your lash line as the finger inside of you sinks further and further inside, past his first knuckle, right down to the base.

He crooks it inside of you and your hands curl into the bedsheets, nails digging into your palms through cotton. His touch is curious, exploratory; has he ever actually done this to anybody before? He slides over a rough patch inside of you with the latex-tipped finger and a moan escapes your mouth against your will, your head falling back against the wall. Narrowed golden eyes look up at you as he repeats the motion; taking in the gloss of your lips, the widening of your eyes, the way your shoulders are shaking up and down.

You can feel yourself pumping more slick out; helping the glide of his finger inside of you, as he begins to carefully thrust it in and out of you. His touch is made all the more impersonal by the mask obscuring everything but his eyes and eyebrows; you can’t even hear him breathing.

Your cunt is fluttering around him, pleasure swarming you in breathless waves as he withdraws his finger entirely. He lifts the glove to his eyeline, looking only vaguely interested in how the white latex glimmers with your arousal.

“I’m going to use two now,” he tells you – and that is all the warning you get before two fingers beside one another are opening you up, scissoring your tight channel apart with an ache that you feel up to your hips. You bite back the whimper, but you’re unable to stop the choked breaths that are falling from you as he fucks you with them in steady, constant thrusts.

A covered thumb brushes your clit; swollen, now. Sensitive. Standing to attention. Your hips attempt to jerk in his hold once more, a strangled noise that’s neither pleasured nor pain falling from your throat. You’ve touched yourself, of course you have – even recently, just to try and assuage some of the boredom that fills your exactly-the-same days – but Overhaul’s fingers and thumbs and touch on you are so entirely different from that.

He continues his assault over your clit, those same eyes watching you with that same detached, clinical disposition that he’s had most of the time. There’s a cast to them that suggests there’s something more, but whatever emotion – if, indeed, he’s still capable of that – he’s feeling about having you at his mercy in this way has been pushed to the back of his mind as his thumb rolls and pinches at the bud.

Your body goes all-over heat, Overhaul’s fingers still pumping in and out of you, the slick noises of your shaming wetness echoing around the prison of the four walls you’ve spent seven months in. You’re teetering on the edge of something, hot and needy and wanting – and as Overhaul’s thumb sweeps over your poor aching clit again, you tilt your hips forward for as much stimulation as you can--

And he pulls his fingers out of you.

The heat fades into nothingness as you let out a noise of disappointment. Overhaul’s head tilts to one side, considering.

“What do you want?” He asks you. “Say it.”

No. You don’t ‘want’. He’s wrong. You keep your mouth pressed tight now that the damning noise has fallen out of it; you have managed to not let the tears trembling in your eyes spill forth. Your gaze meets his, defiant and tired and afraid all at once.

“Alright,” he sighs. “If you’re going to carry on being difficult.”

He does it again; his fingers plunging into you, scissoring you apart, rubbing against your folds with a practised agility now that he’s done it for the first time. He has always been a fast learner; always been observant. His thumb is back on your clit with ceaseless assault, and all over again you feel heat begin to build up; tension that crawls into every crevice of your being and worms its way deep inside you despite how badly you don’t want this.

The hand holding your hip loosens somewhat, allowing you to messily thrust your hips into Overhaul’s stimulation. You’re torn; you shouldn’t want to hump against the gloved fingers stimulating you, you should be wriggling and squirming away. But it feels so good; even with the skin-tight covering of rubbery latex, Overhaul’s fingers seem to find every one of your weak points and exploit them.

There it is again, building up on you; a ball of tension in your stomach being gradually wound tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. Your hips flex against his hand, your fingers clenching and unclenching on the bedsheet--

He denies you the peak of your orgasm for the second time.

And a third.

And a fourth.

“Kai--!” You’re too far gone to even think, after the pleasure has been pulled from you so cruelly, over and over again. The tears spill over your cheeks., rolling down in fat, shaming droplets. Overhaul’s eyes narrow.

“No,” he says, vehement – more emotion in his voice than you’ve heard all day. “You know what to call me.”

You know what he wants you to call him. You know that he wants to leave his old name behind, start again, be someone who can drag the Shie Hassaikai out of the shadows and into light and power once again – and he thinks that the name will help. You gurgle out a sobbing, strangled noise;

“O-Overhaul, please--”

Three fingers are plunged as deep inside of you as they can go, crooked to rub against your sweet spot; as Overhaul murmurs, detached but soft;

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

They thrust into you, his thumb rubbing your clit with firm, certain strokes – and this time, as the orgasm rushes up on you all at once, he doesn’t stop. He fucks you with his fingers through it, his thumb not ceasing the circling. Pleasure washes over you, finally, in great waves and crests. You feel yourself gush on his fingers, soaking him in your wetness (his eyebrows furrow again, at how close your fluid comes to spilling over his bared wrist; but you are too relieved to think about anything other than finally getting what you need).

Your hips flex, gasps falling from your mouth with every thrust of them – and you expect Overhaul to pull his fingers out of you. To stop touching you. Perhaps to strip off his gloves and put on a new pair – you know he always carries spares – and sneer at you as he walks out of the room.

But Overhaul’s fingers do not move from inside of you. The fierce rhythm of his fucking and petting and rubbing does not stop, even as the final aftershocks of your orgasm clench loosely about him and his constant stimulation becomes more of an annoyance than anything else on heated, sensitive skin.

You squirm, trying to push your thighs together to get him to stop touching you – but the hand not fucking you forces your thighs to stay parted with the curl of fingers into supple flesh, leaving you helpless to do anything but let him carry on touching you. Carry on fucking you.

A short, sharp shock of an orgasm rips through you as he swirls his thumb over your clit just so, and you realise that you’re drooling down yourself as well as panting; helpless and sloppy, utterly unable to do anything except lie there and take it until Overhaul decides he’s had enough of touching you.

You come, what? Twice more? Thrice? Until the pulsing of your channel is painful, your skin feeling red raw, your whimpers into the ceiling dry and broken. Only then does he pull his fingers out of you with a lewd pop.

A gush of your fluid that his fingers were stoppering soaks your bedsheets, and you watch, dazed, as Overhaul stands up. He looks down at you for just one moment, that stretches unbearably long in the heat-and-sex soaked atmosphere of the room.

He strips his gloves off of his hands, eyebrows twitching in disgust as he leaves the crumpled latex on your bedside table. He’s sliding on another pair as he speaks;

“Feel better?”

No. No, you don’t. You feel worse. You feel disgusted and violated and aching, your body over-stimulated and exhausted, sweat and drool and bodily fluids clinging to your skin. But if you tell Overhaul that--

“Yes,” you say, voice very soft and small and weak. You cannot see his mouth, but you see the way his eyes flash happily, the overall sensation of him smiling.

Why does Overhaul’s smile make you so scared, when Kai’s smile used to just make you feel warm?

“We’ll need to do it a few more times,” he tells you, as your blood runs to ice in your veins. “Such maladies aren’t cured in a day, after all. But . . .” He turns, rearranging himself carefully, his mask readjusted. You can’t see him as he speaks the next words. “I’d like to try some of the other suggested remedies, too.”

You think of his earlier words.

‘They theorised that the best cure was regular intercourse, male semen, pregnancy and childbirth.’

You’re never going to escape, are you? You’re going to be trapped in this compound until the day you die, and Overhaul is going to think that he’s keeping you safe--

“Take a shower,” he says to you, as he opens the door. It is not a suggestion. “And stop not letting the maids come in here to clean. I’m not having you get sick.”

You think he might be the sick one.

[coexiising]

art deco - anakin skywalker

SUMMARY ◆ You’ve been Anakin Skywalker’s Padawan for almost five years now, recieving training from one of the most brilliant Jedi Knights you have ever met. In an attempt to further your training, you and your Master take a trip to Naboo, however, it is soon revealed that your feelings will get in the way. 

WARNING(S) ◆ Smut, lowkey slow burn, anakin being hot but what’s new, dirty talk, authority kink, virginity kink, bye

WORDS ◆ 7.8k and i regret nothing

NOTE ◆ I wrote this during heartbreak so this is me totally projecting

»»————-　✼　————-««

THERE WAS SOMETHING INCREASINGLY PLEASANT ABOUT BEING ON NABOO. You were quick to realize that the planet’s beauty that was always spoken about was not just a thing of rumors, and that, in fact, the place was even more beautiful than you could possibly imagine. The way that every tree hung perfectly, with it’s branches begging to be touched by a passerby, and how every single animal that grazed along it’s pastures had a sense of calm that you had never felt in all your years of living in the galaxy.

The villa along the large lake a few miles away from the main city was a thing of dreamlike structures. It’s columns held intricate pieces of wood and stone and the balconies that overlooked both water and flower fields were more welcoming than you could ever imagine. A own little touch of paradise, and you would be staying here for only a week.

The war, which you had been flung into only a few years into your training, was going on longer than anyone anticipated. The separatists were not letting up on their preposition to become a sovereign state, and the deaths of thousands mass produced clones has become a daily thing. It took a great toll on everyone involved, and more specifically the Padawan’s like yourself that were not at all prepared for this type of environment for your training. When you were just a youngling, all you expected was to go on lots of missions with your Master that would be Jedi affairs, not Republic ones. In a way, you felt as if you were being robbed of something that you weren’t quite sure how to pinpoint, an innocence in a way.

This was the Council’s way of trying to make it up to you. You knew that it wasn’t supposed to actually be a vacation, no, you were meant to keep up with your training, just in a different environment that would make you more akin with the Force. And that place was Naboo, tranquility in the form of a planet.

“I can feel your apprehension,” Your Master told you, walking in front of you up the stone stairs that came up to the front door of the place you would be staying in with him. Behind you was a ship, no one inside to accompany the two of you. To do this right, as the Council said, you were not to be distracted by anyone else, no clones, no droids, no nothing.

If only they knew that it didn’t matter if there was no one other than your Master to engage with, because Anakin Skywalker, alone, was able to distract you for hours on end if you really put your mind to it. Anakin and you were very similar in age, early adult years, and yet he had the role of Master and you were still just a Padawan. You knew that it was because of his efforts during the Battle of Geonosis at the very beginning of the war, and that alone was enough to grant him the title of Jedi Knight, but it still was awkward at points when he talked down on you, because really, he had only two years more experience in life than you did.

You did what you were told. You always did. As a youngling you had a temper, a rebellious streak that for a time was almost concerning for the Council and the Master’s that taught you. And yet, here you were, a respectful young Jedi. Over the years you have grown, probably more than any other youngling that the Order has ever seen. It was like overnight somehow you turned from a child to a young woman, and you were adamant about completing your studies so that you could become a Jedi Knight. Those plans, however, got incredibly tainted with the war, and then with the introduction of you and your Master. It was a rather uncalled for pairing. You were hoping for someone like Master Yoda to take you as his Padawan or even for master Plo Koon, yet it was wildly noted that you were picked by Anakin Skywalker yourself. A rather odd thing and he still hasn’t told you completely why.

Anakin was not entirely a man of secrets. You could ask him things about almost anything and he would tell you. The only thing that he kept guarded in the deepest parts of his mind was things of his past, and his reasoning behind making such vast decisions like taking on a Padawan during a large civil war. But you and Anakin still managed to be very close, the Force growing strong between both of you as if it too agreed in your compatibility.

You shook your head, immediately refuting his accusations. “No, it’s not apprehension,” you told him, eyes coming up to meet the back of his head since he wasn’t looking at you. “Just concern, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” Your Master questioned. The second that his foot came up to the top of the stairs, his figure turned around and faced you, those bold, blue eyes of his racing to meet your own. “If you have any doubts about anything, tell me, I am your Master after all.”

That’s exactly that problem, you thought to yourself, making sure that your mental shields were up to guard it. That was the last thing that you needed, for him to know the things that you wished to push down into the darkest depths of your mind. That was the Jedi way, after all, keep all those emotions that were considered dangerous and a path to the dark side in a little cage in your mind and throw away the key. The thought of simply just being with him here alone made your brain almost electrify yourself, thinking about all the possibilities of slipping up and revealing all your emotions towards your Master directly to him. It was something to fear, and yet you were not allowed to fear.

You offered him the fakest smile that you could muster, saying, “Yes, Master, I’m alright. Let’s just get inside, it’s almost dark.” The setting sun was directly to your back, illuminating him in front of you like he was something to be marvelled at. And to your defense, Anakin Skywalker was definitely something to be marvelled at. His chiseled cheeks only looked more distinguished in the golden light, along with his dark brown hair that seemed to catch it just right. It made you feel weak in the knees, these thoughts of him, and you knew it was wrong to think of him in such ways - but you just couldn’t stop. Every time you tried to vilify him in your mind, another reason why you should love popped right back up in its place. It was a deadly cycle that you have shamelessly fallen victim to, and there was nothing that you could do to stop it or further this attraction. It was forbidden.

The moment that you stepped into the building, a sigh left your lips, eyes taking in all your surroundings. It was marvellous. There were marbled stone floors that were covered in rugs in some places, plush couches in the middle of the room, and off to the side were the counters of the kitchen, all looking as if no one had ever stepped foot in here. Suddenly you felt out of place here, like you weren’t good enough to live in such a lavish way. After all, your temple rooms were nothing compared to this. They were bland, sandy and brown colors everywhere. Only a dresser with a small mirror and a bed were in it. Yet here, there were different hues of reds, greens, and blues, tables and chairs and fancy lamps, and plants that added almost another dimension to the already breathtaking house.

“It’s - It’s,” You started, not able to find the correct words for what you were trying to say.

Luckily, Anakin finished your sentence, “Breathtaking. It’s breathtaking.”

You turned to look back at him, taking in his features for just a moment more.

Breathtaking, you thought to yourself. Yes, everything here is just breathtaking.

-

The soft silks of your bed sheets rolled between your fingers, tempting you to lay into bed and never get back up. How on Earth were you supposed to keep training when you were living like this? You could imagine yourself, not as a Jedi but as a normal person, eating wild berries as you sat on your bed near the balcony, looking towards the horizon and not having one single worry in that head of yours. It was tantalizing, the perfect picture in your mind of what you wished to be.

“You think too loud.”

You spun around to only be met with your Master, who was leaning against your doorframe effortlessly. A heat rose up to your cheeks, realizing that you hadn’t been taking the proper precautions of keeping those thoughts only to yourself. They were just little flings of ideas, nothing too brash that could get you into any trouble. “Sorry, Master, I shouldn’t have been thinking of slacking off when we have work to do in the coming days.”

A chuckle escaped his lips from deep within his chest. “It’s okay, Y/N, really, if I am being honest, I was thinking the same not too long ago.”

That was shocking news to you. You always thought that Anakin always wanted to be on the run, as if this trip that he had to take with you was annoying to him because he had to take time away from the front lines of the war. But it also made sense, even victorious war generals get tired sooner or later. Perhaps you didn’t know him as much as you thought that you did. This trip wasn’t just for you, it was for the both of you. It was good to go back to basics, remember the first feelings of the force and go from there.

“And here I was thinking that you didn’t want to be here,” You mused.

Your Master laughed at your jest. “No, quite the opposite. It’ll be nice to take a step back from life for a little bit and get some much needed rest.”

“I didn’t know that General Skywalker knew what rest meant,” You continued on your playful banter.

“I don’t,” He chuckled. “Maybe you can teach me?”

Now that sends you through a loop. You knew that he was probably just playing around with you, since you were teasing him a little bit. But that sentence was enough for that place in your mind to unlock all the fantasies you had in your head about him, the ones that you only dared touch when you knew you were alone and it was the dead of night so no was there to read them. You held yourself back from becoming flustered, knowing the moment you showed any signs of it that he would know that something was up. Instead you simply nodded your head, taking your eyes off of him to the balcony that was open to your room, seeing the way that the moonlight illuminated the waves of the water. “Perhaps after training tomorrow, we could go by the water?” You asked him.

“Sure thing,” Anakin said, turning on his heel and making his way out of your room. You took a sigh of relief at his absence, not because you wanted him gone, but because seeing him in such a leisurely setting was starting to get to your head. That dizzy feeling that got to your head every time you looked at him for too long started to subside, and you were left with only your thoughts as you put away some robes you packed for the stay.

The moment that your head hit the soft, plush pillow of your large bed, you were completely enveloped by sleep. In your dreams you only saw you and Anakin, happy and smiling in the gracious flower fields of Naboo, preparing meals together half dressed in the kitchen, and falling asleep in each other's arms. It was so real and lifelike that when you woke up in the morning, you felt as if you had awoken from an alternate universe.

-

Anakin didn’t know what he was doing.

Of course he was excited to be able to take a break from the long, withheld war between the Republic and the Separatists, but at the same time he knew that being alone with you was going to be a struggle for him. Anakin loved to train you, he really did. You were a loyal Padawan to the Order and was eager to learn the ways of the Force by his instruction. He knew the moment that he saw you that he wanted to train you. But he hadn’t prepared for him to become so emotionally attached to you, and it was tearing the young Jedi apart.

It was incredibly taboo of him to gain these feelings for two reasons. One: the Jedi were forbidden from attachment. And although Anakin hadn’t been known for following all the rules of the Jedi, he knew that attachment could possibly lead to dark places if he wasn’t careful. Two: you were his Padawan. It may have been different if you were within the same ranks as him, but you were not. He was supposed to be your teacher, and there was no way that he would take advantage of his position of power over you if you were not willing.

He, too, was having doubts about this vacation. Anakin almost asked his First in Command, Rex, if he would accompany the two Jedi for the week, but there was too much going on for the clone to take time off. So it was just you and him, alone in this house on this beautiful planet. Anakin was uneasy up until the moment he walked in your room last night when for a half a second he could sense your aura from the Force, and it was also uneasy about being with him alone. It was strange, since you were clearly hiding these thoughts from him with your mental shields whenever you were around him. But the moment he left you alone, those shields came down.

“Don’t think about keeping yourself up, the Force will do that on it’s own as long as you keep the connection with it. Focus on the rocks,” Anakin told you, walking around you in circles as you were in a handstand, mentally bringing up some rocks off the ground and stacking them off to your side. This was generally a lesson that a youngling would be given, though it was a good mental exercise. And in Anakin’s opinion: it was way better than meditating. “Feel it flow through you, allow it to take you over and become one with it.” These were the same things that Master Obi-Wan had taught him.

It was a bright, sunny day. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky as the time reached a little bit past noon. Training outside in the fields of Naboo were easier than doing so at the Jedi Temple, considering there was more nature that was akin to all aspects of the force. And the sun felt good on both of your skin, smelling the natural air that had a fluorescent scent to it rather than the smog and industrial life of Coruscant.

Your muscles were beginning to strain from underneath you as your head tilted to the side, watching all the rocks fall into place to your left. Even though the Force provided much needed relief on your arms, they were beginning to let out. There was one more rock for you to move and it was the smallest one, a tiny little pebble that needed to go on the top. It was such a small mass, yet with all of this mental and physical strain, it felt like a boulder to move across the air slowly with your mind. All you wanted was for Master Skywalker to feel proud of you. You wanted to see that smile on his face as you lifted that last pebble up and was allowed to finish your studies for the day.

The more you concentrated, the more you could feel the Force flow right through you. It could be felt in the tingling of your palms, sending vibrations towards the center of your chest while your blood flowed. Almost more importantly, you could feel Anakin’s eyes on you, waiting patiently for you to make your next move. Slowly, but surely, the little pebble made its way towards the top of the stacked rocks. Your eyes widened with joy, but immediately squinted back up when it shook a tiny bit. The moment that the bottom of it hit the top, you released your much concentrated attachment with the Force, and allowed yourself to fall seamlessly to the ground. The blood rushed back to your head, making your eyes darken to adjust. Once you could see again, you saw Anakin standing over you, that grin you had looked forward to seeing on his face.

“Not bad, Padawan,” He said in an appealing tone, extending a hand to help you up to your feet. You were quick to take it, ignoring the way that your heart soared as your skin touched against his skin. “We should go back to the house.” He almost turned and began walking away, but you scrunch your nose up and kept his hand in a tight grip, prompting him to look right back at you with a confused look. “What’s up?”

“You promised we could go to the water afterwards,” You told him, hoping that you were jogging his memory from last night.

But you didn’t need to jog Anakin’s memory, because he had been thinking about it ever since you asked. Thinking about having to watch you submerge under the water and come back up, drops of clear blue dripping down your exposed shoulders, and keeping himself from doing something that he would most likely regret when you would reject him, scolding him for his thinking. He thought about the way he wanted to put his hands on your hips and pull you as close as you possibly could get to him, taking the opportunity to pepper kisses along your smooth skin. It killed him to think that you probably didn’t think the same way about him, it was going to goddamn tear him apart.

Nevertheless, he wasn’t going to go back on his promise to you. It was the least he could do after thinking such sinful things about you. Anakin’s gave you a nod and walked beside you on the short trail to the large lake. You could hear the water ripple towards the small shoreline, coming up and then receding back again in a timely fashion. You kicked off your shoes, deciding that your tank top and pants were okay to get wet, especially since you wouldn’t take the risk of undressing in front of Anakin. As much as the thought was tempting, you knew better than to test your luck. Anakin watched with intensity as you got into the water, going deep enough to where only the tops of your shoulders and up were exposed. Maker, he cursed himself, did you have to look so good barely doing anything?

You cocked your head to the side. “Well . . . are you going to get in or just stare at me?” You asked, immediately submerging yourself under the water to ignore what he had to say about your teasing. Your heart thumped profusely as you sat there under the water holding your breath. Anakin had been looking at you.

He mentally cursed himself once again, taking his shoes off and following you into the water. It did feel good, the water having an almost calming effect over him as he walked deeper in the lake. He looked around him, taking in the appearance of all the beautiful trees that lined up, beautiful fruit hanging off of the branches. Little flowers were along the bay, facing right towards him as if they were welcoming him to their home.

The sun spilled harsh rays along his skin, causing Anakin to dip his head down fully into the water. Once he came back up for air, his eyes shifted over to you, both of you holding a type of eye contact that you swore almost knocked your breath out. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, like he was looking right into your soul and you to his, a sense of desire burning a pit in your stomach. Feeling exposed, you shifted your gaze to the fish swimming in the water near you. You could still feel his eyes on you, in them holding truths that he wished to tell you, but being unable to put the words together to explain.

-

“There’s something that you’re not telling me.”

Your eyes opened at your Master’s voice and looked directly at him. You had been meditating on your bed before sleeping, knowing that you hadn’t gotten the necessary amount of meditating that you needed for the day. At the temple they usually kept you on some kind of schedule, though here with Anakin rules were a little - no, more loose than normal.

Anakin once again stood in your doorframe, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed in, like he didn’t feel like he had a place stepping into your bedroom. You searched his face to gauge a feeling for what he was talking about, looking for hints of mischief or anger. There was nothing, his face was completely blank, almost too blank like he was hiding something from you.

You knew you had nothing to hide - or at least nothing that he should know about. “I don’t know what you mean, Master,” You replied, uncrossing your legs from their criss cross position and hugging them close to your chest. “Have I done something wrong?”

That answer seemed to not satisfy him, because for a moment something flickered in his eyes. “No, nothing like that,” He told you, furrowing his brows together and taking a tentative step closer into your room. “It’s just, I get this feeling when I’m around you. Your force signature . . . like something is just gnawing at you and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Oh, you were screwed. Alarms blared in your mind, thinking about how you had let your thoughts run too much during this trip. All the worst outcomes of this came to your mind, like how he would laugh at your growing feelings towards him, how much you wanted him almost shamelessly. It made your stomach twist into several knots, wanting to bury yourself into a hole and never ever come out of it again.

Your face and the Force must’ve told it all, because he spoke again, saying, “There. Right there. I can feel it, Y/N. Just talk to me. What is going on?” Your bottom lip quivered, knowing that there was no way you were getting out of this. This was it. The day you had been dreading and hoping didn’t come. Everything was about to come crash down onto your life.

“I can’t,” You said in a low voice, shifting your weight to sit at the edge of the bed, putting your head into your hands and staring down at the plush carpet in an attempt to get away from his stare. Almost as if you thought if you looked away long enough, he would suddenly disappear.

“What do you mean ‘you can’t’? You’re my Padawan, you can tell me anything.”

Padawan. The title felt foreign in your mind now. It was something that you knew you couldn’t hold onto for much longer once the truth was out. You would be stripped of it and be a Jedi no more. The council would hear of your feelings and immediately expel you. Padawan. Padawan. Padawan. The more the word bounced around in your mind the more you felt tears welling up into your eyes.

And you didn’t mean to sound so harsh when you said it, but your hands were balling up into fists as you said, “That’s what’s wrong!” Your head tilted up, seeing that Anakin had walked closer to you, towering over your frame. His face showed confusion, not understanding what you were alluding to. He didn’t even have to say it, but his expression was saying explain.

How could you even begin?

You were wordless.

“Please . .  . I just want to help you,” Anakin told you, his hand coming to grab onto your forearm. The touch felt like hot coals on your body, scorching your soul. “I don’t like seeing you like this.” Which you knew translated to I don’t like not knowing how to fix it.

“It’s you,” You confessed. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

For a moment, Anakin thought that he had stepped into some parallel universe. Or that this was some sort of prank let on by someone else. There was no way that this was happening, you were confessing. You had been thinking about him, probably as much as he was thinking about you. It felt as if the world had turned on its axis and was spinning the opposite direction.

You, on the other hand, was waiting for the words that never came. You expected him to immediately tell you that he was going to report you to the Council. And yet, he stood there, almost looking as dumbfounded as you did, maybe even more. This prompted you to stand up, his hand falling down and getting dangerously close to your own.

“I know . . .” You started again, seeing as he wasn’t going to say anything. “I know that it’s wrong, that I shouldn’t be thinking of you in the ways that I am. But I can’t stop, Anakin, you consume me.”

The usage of his name snapped him back to reality and out of his own spinning thoughts, and hearing it come from specifically your lips was not helping his frame of mind. It sounded . . . different coming from your mouth. Like you were saying it like a praise rather than just a passing phrase like most people did. He wanted you to say it over and over again, repeating it like a mantra you were to speak or you would die if you didn’t. His eyes flickered into your own and saw how scared you were of how he would react and how he was definitely not helping to settle your nerves.

In truth, he didn’t know how to handle this situation. After all, this was not a lesson that had been given to him and he was definitely not in the best place to tell you anything, since his emotions were starting to cloud his judgement and all he could think was how he wished to tell you he felt the same way.

You waited for his response, getting impatient and wanting to just get this over with. You were waiting for the words he was supposed to say.

But Anakin didn’t always do the things he was supposed to do.

“You and I both know that forming attachments isn’t allowed,” Anakin said. “And yet I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.”

A visible look of shock washed over your face, mouth opening slightly and eyes widening, heart pounding against your ribcage. His hand reached down and grabbed your own, fingertips softly touching the palm of your hand. This felt like a dream. Were you sure that you weren’t dreaming? No, this was definitely real. Anakin was in front of you for sure, confessing that he was feeling the exact same way.

Anakin tipped his head down to meet your own, his breath fanning along your face, making you shiver. Your breath hitched in your throat, his lips brushing against your own, almost like he was testing you. You could feel the tips of his hair tickling against your forehead, nose against nose. You were so close. The hand on your own was grasping now, pulling your body close to his. And the two of you sat there, lips millimeters close while each of your minds buzzed with the feeling of doing something so daring.

You felt yourself going mad, you couldn’t do it anymore. You couldn’t wait. All of your feelings erupted inside of your throat and suddenly you were kissing him, lips smashing against his own with no care in the world. You didn’t care about the Council, the Code . . . anything. All you cared about was Anakin, wanting as much of him that he was willing to give you.

You had never really kissed anyone before. There was a moment back when you were only ten and you were with another youngling, seeing one of the citizens of Coruscant kissing each other on the street. Interested in what they were doing, you and your friend kissed, thinking that it was weird and dismissing it. That had been your first kiss, a rather embarrassing one, but it was nothing compared to the way Anakin kissed you. He kissed you like there was a purpose to every single move of his muscles. He kissed you like you were forbidden fruit and he was starving.

His other hand came up to the back of your neck, tangling in your hair and keeping your face close to his. For just a moment his tongue slipped into your mouth and you made a small sound, butterflies swarming in your stomach. You tried to mimic what he was doing, going with your instincts and grasping onto his bicep, feeling the taut muscles under your touch.

Everything about yours and his actions were needy and hungry, wanting each other with such need that you had pushed down for so long. All of it seemed to come out of you like crashing waves. The kissing was nice, though after a while you needed more, you were dying for more of him. Please, Anakin, you thought.

What do you want, Padawan? He asked through his thoughts to you, hand coming to caress your face to look down at you. You looked into those big, blue eyes of his that never ceased to awaken something within you.

“You, Anakin, I want you,” You whispered to him, as if someone was going to hear if you talked too loud. “Please.” You thought that you probably sounded like someone desperate, and in a way you were, you had waited for this forever and had convinced yourself that it would never happen. But he thought the exact opposite, he marvelled in the way that you looked at him, wanting to show you how much you truly meant to him. The attraction and lust was there, intermingled with something more that neither of you dared to acknowledge.

He didn’t hesitate to give you what you wanted, slowly inching you towards the bed and helping you rest on your back, the silk sheets against the back of your arms and neck. Anakin was quick to follow, climbing on top of you and connecting his lips onto the skin right below your jaw. His lips were soft like snowflakes falling onto your skin, creating a masterpiece on your skin like you were his canvas. It all felt too good, the Force heightening the sensations to an almost unbearable amount. It sent shockwaves to your core, igniting a feeling you often only felt during the late hours of the night.

Seeing how well your body responded to him, well, almost drove Anakin crazy. You were so willing, so ready for him that his mind became cloudy, the only thing he could make out was his thoughts of you. Nothing about the war, the Council, the fact that he was your Master . . . It all blew away with the wind. His lips trailed down from your jaw to your neck, paying extra attention to the places that made you breath out more than the others. Your hands found their respective place in his hair, feeling the softness of the dirty blonde curls between your fingers.

Your clothes suddenly felt foreign on your body, you wanted them off, you wanted his off so that you could see all of him. He seemed to hear your thoughts, humming against your skin and pulling away, pressing a soft, firm kiss to your lips and helping you get out of them, and in turn you helped him get out of his.

Anakin’s body was like nothing you imagined. He was breathtaking. You knew that he had a nice body because of all the training and countless amounts of physical strain he has been through, but looking at those abs that he had, along with the sun kissed skin he had, you felt your throat close up, feeling inferior to what he looked like. “You’re beautiful, Y/N,” He spoke to your thoughts. “Don’t ever think that you’re not.” And you believed him.

His hands came to your hips, fingers toying with the fabric of your underwear that was the only thing blocking him from seeing you fully. His eyes scanned you, taking in the sheer and utter beauty before him. He wanted to kiss, lick, and nip on every single inch of skin on you. He wanted to learn each and every single curve, hear every story behind your scars, and know just what touches would have you squirming from underneath him.

No one has seen you this exposed before. You didn’t know whether or not to feel embarrassed, because he seemed to know what he was doing. It was not that you had taken the Jedi code to heart, but you simply hadn’t known anyone that you found enough to take that last piece of innocence from you - no one except Master Skywalker. And only now did you actually realize what was going to happen.

Your whole body felt hot, needing to feel the release that was beginning to build up from all of his kisses and your imagination running its course. “Anakin,” You breathed out, not knowing how to form into words what you wanted from him. Of course he knew, he could feel your force signature morph into something almost sinful, something he was sure he was emitting himself. After all, neither of you were hiding anything anymore. He knew exactly what he was going to do to you so that he could hear the plethora of moans that he knew you had just for him, wanting to hear his name come off of your lips in pleasure.

His head ducked down and kissed your hipbone, fingers hooking under your underwear and slowly sliding them off. Your eyes stayed on his actions, mouth forming into an ‘O’ when you realized what he was going to do. He was going to use his mouth on you. These were only things that you thought in your deepest, darkest fantasies, like he had reached into those parts of your mind and did exactly what you wanted.

As if Anakin was just tempting you, he pressed another slow kiss to the inside of your thigh and then did the same thing to the other side. Your hips lifted up only slightly, showing him that you couldn’t wait much longer. A chuckle left him, eyes reaching your own and saying, “Eager?” You weren’t even ashamed when you shook your head, keeping eye contact with him as he licked a bold stripe right up your slit. It felt as if an earthquake hit your body, your back arching and hands gripping onto his hair.

He hummed against you, liking the way that you responded to his actions. If he had it his way, he would sit here with you like this for hours on end, bringing you up to that high place again and again until you were a wrecked mess before him. It made him simply go crazy to think that he was the first person to ever do this to you, that he would be the first of anyone to hear those moans and profanities that slipped from your cherry kissed lips. Anakin’s own thoughts made him groan out, a noise that you played on repeat in your mind as your eyes screwed closed.

Your thighs quivered beside his face, attempting to squeeze shut so that you could keep him there forever. But his hands came and held them in place, fingers digging into your muscles that gave in to his touch like it was nothing. You were putty in his hands, the only movement you had was your hands pulling on his hair and the arch of your back while he lapped his tongue against you with no mercy.

“Stay still,” He told you, pulling away for a moment to lick what was left of you on his lips. You nodded, chest heaving and heart sinking at the loss of contact. But Anakin didn’t leave for long, his mouth on your clit accompanied with one of his fingers circling your entrance. You nearly lost it when he dipped his middle finger in experimentally, gauging your reaction. You could feel the coil in your stomach start to tighten, which only amplified once his finger pushed into you all the way.

You didn’t even attempt to try and censor the obscenities that came out of your mouth, mixed in rhyme with his name. Anakin. Anakin. Anakin. It was the only word that felt real in your mind.

You waited for that final jump towards a euphoric end, but it never came. Instead Anakin pulled away from you and his fingers left, making you feel uneasily empty. Opening your eyes, you saw that he was pulling down his boxers, taking his cock into his hands and watching as you almost became slack jawed - realizing what was about to happen. A moment of worry nestled its way into your mind, making your heart thump. If anyone was to find out, you would surely not be accepted back into the Order. You would never be able to have Anakin again. Jedi were not to fear, and yet here you were, fearing that you would lose the one person that you cared about - the only one you knew cared about you.

It was your moment to choose. You knew that if you backed out, at least you would be able to work under him still and not have his affections. It would be better than never seeing him again. And yet, you couldn’t see your life without him, all of him. Not just the side that was your Master.

Anakin sensed your worry, taking your chin in his hands so that you looked up at him. “Are you sure?” He asked you, not wanting to move forward before you were ready. And God, were you ready.

And with all the courage that you mustered up, you gave him a small smile and said, “Yes.” You felt like you were flinging yourself off of some sort of cliff, or even more sinfully feeling like you were Persephone, cutting up her own slice of pomegranate and looking right into Hades eyes as she tasted the fruit, securing your fate that you would stay with him. You would stay with Anakin, even if it was only for this night.

He nestled between your legs and you could feel his tip press against your entrance. Air was caught in your lungs, sitting up on your elbows so that you could see as he eased himself into you. A sting of pain and a subtle feeling of pleasure was seated inside of you, watching as his cock be enveloped by you inch by inch. Anakin hissed at the feeling, you were so goddamn tight and he never wanted to stop from being inside of you. Once all of him was inside, he leaned over so his head was in the crook of your neck, pressing a kiss to your searing skin as you adjusted to him bottoming out.

You urged him to continue, thinking that the discomfort would soon go away with time. And you were eager to get all of him that you could, temptation coming forward instead of reason. He pulled out all the way then eased himself back in, continuing the slower pace and watching your reaction before him, your hands reaching to his back and finding their place there. One of his hands kept your legs open, taking you by your thigh and hoisting it up.

It took all that he could muster to not just ram into you, the want starting to cloud his judgment. The Force felt as if it was pushing both you and him towards each other, the connection almost driving each of you crazy. “You feel . . .” He started. “You feel so good.” That alone, along with the raspiness in his voice, made a fire erupt in your stomach. You sighed in response, eyes fluttering closed once again.

And then, much to his surprise, you whispered, “Go faster, Anakin.” You needed him so bad you felt like you were going to explode, lust enveloping the both of you and intertwining with your Force energies.

He didn’t need to be told twice, and he gripped onto the leg he lifted up, beginning a slightly faster rhythm that had you arching your neck and eyes rolling to the back of your head. Anakin was so big, stretching you out in just the right way that had you almost keeling over if he hadn’t had such a tight grip on you. Your one leg wrapped along his waist, heel digging into his back while his pace increased.

This angle he had you in made you yelp and moan shamelessly, not caring if people all the way in the capital could hear you as you yelled his name like a prayer. His pace finally became a fast rhythm and you found comfort in being to finally feel nothing but pleasure with every deep stroke he made.

In this place, it was only you and him. Like you were in your own little place of paradise where you could explore each other in every way. There was nothing that could take this moment from you or him, this moment would forever be engraved in your mind for many years to come, remembering the way that he moaned out your name and the way he looked when you opened your eyes to peek at his face. His brows were furrowed, sweat beading on his forehead and mouth spilled open saying nothing but your name.

He made you feel so good, so euphoric that the fire grew and grew, becoming a wildfire raging inside of you. And you looked so heavenly to him, the way that your eyes only looked at him, breasts bouncing with every harsh thrust he gave you. You took him so well, like you were made for only him. His hips brushed against your own, hand coming up to caress your cheek, forcing you to look at him in the eyes.

You weren’t going to last much longer. Not with the way that he was pounding into you with sheer force you didn’t know was possible until now. But you didn’t want this to end, you never wanted this to end in fear that things would go back to the way they were before. You would have to try and forget that this ever happened. It wasn’t something you wanted to do and didn’t even know if you had the strength to do it. After this moment both of you would be connected.

You made a guttural noise, teetering over the edge of what felt like a wave of bliss. This was it, there was no way that you could keep yourself from it now. It only took a singular deep stroke of his cock to send you right over the edge, your back arching and body spasming, his name rolling off of your tongue in the most sinful way you have ever said it before. Your hands gripped for any part of him that you could reach, groping his muscles to keep him close to you. He didn’t stop moving inside of you, making you ride it out even harder as he chased his own high.

You were so sensitive as he fucked into you, giving you no mercy. He groaned as you came, watching the way that your eyes screwed shut and mouth opening in as you sucked in harsh breaths. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you and you knew that he was close, wondering if he was going to cum inside of you or pull out before he did. He did the latter, taking one more deep stroke before pulling out. Anakin was about to start stroking himself with his hand but you rushed with your own to meet him there, using your own and pumping a few times.

A string of profanities came from his lips as he came, white hot liquid spurting onto your stomach, dripping like beads coating your skin. He had no shame as he shuddered, muscles flexing with every passing second. He drank in your body, seeing how wet you were for him, how soft your hand was on his cock, how much he longed to see you like this more times before you and him left back for the war. And soon enough he was finished, the only thing between both of you was both of your panting breaths.

Anakin moved to grab something on the floor, realizing that it was the shirt he had on before and moving to wipe your stomach off, dropping it to the floor and coming to lay down next to you. You winced for a moment as you moved to look at him, his own eyes staring at the ceiling. You were scared of what was to come next, if there was anything that was supposed to come next. You knew that the two of you couldn’t be together, at least openly, though it was even risky to continue doing something like this in private.

“Anakin,” You called out to him, forcing him to look at you. “What will happen next?”

“I don’t know, Y/N, I don’t know,” He responded. All he knew was that he wanted you, again and again. In the domestic moments and in the explicit ones like before. You were so tantalizing, and he realized now that because he had tasted the forbidden fruit that was you, he would never be able to stop. There was simply no way that he would be able to conceal his want for you from you anymore.

You waited for his answer, knowing that it would probably be one you didn’t want to hear. But for the second time this evening, Anakin surprised you again.

He leaned over and kissed you.

And you knew his answer from that.

[binunus]

sex with bin x eunwoo (m)

a/n THIS WHOLE ALBUM??? IS SO GOOD??? LITERALLY WHAT THE FUCK !!!

also im so so sorry that i keep disappearing, every time I think I have a break in school, my professors keep going like sike here’s a new assignment and group presentation 🤡, but I swear I’m still working on all the requests, it’s just a real slow progression this time 😔

but thank you all so much for being really patient with me and my works, i legit wanna cry when I think about how sweet all you loves are ❤️

→ genre: smut

→ tw: threesome, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it lovies) dom!binwoo, brat!reader, light bondage?? anal, eiffel tower, oral (f and m receiving), fingering (f and m receiving), ~choking~ bc it’s me, squirting, v-voyeurism??

→ word count: 3.3k _________________________________

oh good fucking lord

I don’t even know where to start

just the thought of getting dicked down by these two immaculate men??? at the same time??? i would sell my soul

and just binwoo are literally my biases?? im still going back and forth between them (even though I think bin is the top)

alright so how does this little thing even start

this is a non-idol au, lowkey this request is giving me frat boy vibes oops i said it

bin and eunwoo are close, they’re best buds

they have fucked the same guy/girl before, but never at the same time

they just have the same taste in people wink wonk

sidenote: bin and eunwoo as bi kings??? so much power fuck

so you are a mutual friend

you met them both in college and have stayed friends since then

but relationships aren’t for you (not yet at least)

the streets�� are still your companion

yes you have fucked both bin and eunwoo before in college, eunwoo once when you were junior, and bin a couple times throughout senior year

you don’t talk to them often, but if something comes up on your feed or a monumental event happens to any one of you, of course you’d spike up some conversation

so you’re coming back in town for a week or so, visiting old friends and family

and bin hits you up like “hey, I saw that you were in town! we should get some dinner and catch up!”

and you were not about to say no to that, bin was a good part of your college years! it would be nice to hang out with him again

alright you weren’t expecting to get action from this dinner – it popped in your mind, yes, but it wasn’t the ulterior motive

but did you try to dress up a little to impress moon bin?? maybe so

and shit, when he showed up to the restaurant looking like a whole ass man?? 

like did his biceps look more appetizing than the food you were being served? a little bit

conversation was exchanged very easily, you and bin were always a bit flirty with each other, ever since college, but you both knew it never meant anything beyond sex

and so when he asked if you were dating anyone, you knew this was the invitation, and were you going to accept it?? 100%, you haven’t had sex in a while because of your job

and so you find yourself back in bin’s apartment

bin: hm? I guess eunwoo’s not home from work yet

you: eunwoo? as in cha eunwoo? you guys still live together?

bin: yeah, we like living together, rent was cheaper that way, and this place is equidistant from both of our work places...is that a problem??

you: no, I mean it makes sense, just...what if eunwoo comes back while we’re in the middle of fucking...wouldn’t that be weird?

bin shrugging: you’ve had sex with eunwoo in college too, and it’s not like he hasn’t seen me naked before either. who knows he might even wanna join?

he said that as a joke alright

but as soon as he mentioned it, your eyes dilated a bit

bin noticed immediately and he caged you against the wall, a little smirk playing on his lips

bin: you seem to like that idea, y/n. hm? you wanna get fucked by both me and eunwoo? didn’t know you were into threesomes

your cheeks are flushing, you felt seen: would you feel weird if he joined? you guys are friends and roommates

bin shaking his head: me and eunwoo have talked about it before, and honestly this seems like the perfect opportunity. we’re all friends here.

you being nervous a little bit bc a threesome?? with both bin and eunwoo?? those two 6 foot attractive men??

you tried a threesome before bc you were curious, but it wasn’t the best hookup experience

you: should we...? wait for him??

your cheeks are flushed a little, like how were you supposed to go about this

bin smiles bc you look a bit cute right now being all shy and he just pinches your cheek

bin: you got cuter since we graduated y/n

you: shut the fuck up bin, don’t make me tie you up again

bin smirks and his hand moves from your cheek to fully grasp at your neck, he squeezes your throat as he pushes you so that your back collided with the wall: baby, if anyone’s getting tied up tonight, it’s gonna be you

and god if you weren’t horny before, you definitely are now, especially with the way bin was cutting off your airflow??? your head was spinning in the best kind of way

bin slotting his thigh in between your legs as he just crashes his lips onto yours

and he’s still choking you when he literally shoves his tongue down your throat, you have to grab onto his broad shoulders just to steady yourself

making out with bin is so hot

he picks you up by your ass and you wrap your legs around his waist, you both are still making out as he leads you to the couch

you’re straddling him oh lord have mercy

you in between kisses: why don’t we go to your room? what, is it messy?

you moan as he spanks your ass at the quip: we’re gonna need to do something about that smart mouth of yours baby...and we’re here to give eunwoo a little show when he comes home. Why, you need a bed? pillow princess? last time I remember, you were fine getting fucked in the maintenance room.

you two go back to kissing, bin’s hands were gripping at your waist now, lifting up the bottom of your shirt so that you could take it off

never in your life have you been so happy to wear a skirt, you could feel the outline of his bulge against your underwear, the fabric of his jeans giving you just enough friction

and when you start grinding on him, he grunts into your mouth and bites on your lower lip

and fuck when bin removes his shirt? he was always built in college but the definition of his muscles now?? you were literally drooling

you: holy shit bin, isn’t your job in business? where do you find the time to workout?

he’s kissing your neck now: you can always find time to workout y/n, just make it part of your daily routine

exercise evangelist moonbin™

you’re tilting your head to the side giving him more access, bin’s sucking hickeys into your neck and it just feels so good

your neck’s a sensitive spot, if you couldn’t tell

and bin knows that so he’s paying extra attention to your neck, you don’t even notice when his hands go around your torso to unclasp your bra

the two of you are literally just topless on his couch, making out and feeling each other up, when lo and behold, eunwoo comes home

his eyes go wide and he immediately covers his face: jesus christ bin, go to your fucking room

bin starts laughing, you know his laugh where his eyes literally crinkle and he smiles so wide and his laugh increases in pitch, that one

you can’t help but laugh too, you thought you would be embarrassed, but this is a bit funny

you: you don’t have to cover your eyes eunwoo, it’s not like you haven’t seen any of this before

eunwoo: oh shit, hey y/n, didn’t know you were coming over?? well...uh if you guys aren’t gonna go to bin’s room, I’m going to mine and just let me know when you’re done

bin: you sure you wanna go to your room? y/n wants you to join us

eunwoo’s blushing a little bit (he’s not covering his face anymore) when you two meet eyes: are you sure y/n?

you get a bit shy again bc shit, eunwoo in a suit coming from work with silver-blue hair? sexy

you: yeah...if you want to, me and bin are cool with it.

bin’s back to kissing your neck as you basically watch eunwoo remove his jacket and tie

and oof him unbuttoning his dress shirt? y’all he’s a tease, they both are

bin: let’s take this back to my room

eunwoo: we can go to mine, it’s cleaner and my bed’s bigger

you: i knew it

bin bites your shoulder and you let out a mix between a yelp of pain and a moan

bin: eunwoo get your ropes, we need to teach y/n a lesson on being bratty

eunwoo chuckling as he leads the way to his bedroom

bin already made himself comfortable on eunwoo’s bed, and you’re standing to the side making conversation as eunwoo looks through his closet for the ropes lol

as soon as eunwoo finds it, there’s a dark change in his eyes and he smirks at you: why don’t you join binnie on the bed, y/n?

your stomach turns in excitement, eunwoo tosses the ropes to bin and he puts a hand on your back as he leads you to his bed, and before you could get on by yourself, eunwoo just tugs your skirt down making you gasp

you lie down and bin grins as he binds your wrists to eunwoo’s headboard, usually you would put up a little fight when you get tied up, but you just stayed silent, you were anticipating what would happen next

bin: you’re being oddly obedient y/n

you’re a brat okay, but in the past when you and bin used to hook up, your brattiness increased by like 100%, like you’re extra bratty with bin for some reason

~it is what it is~

maybe it’s because eunwoo’s here too that your bratty side has suppressed a bit

bin and eunwoo both start removing all their clothes and you’re like shit eunwoo’s built too

bin settles in between your legs and eunwoo leans in and starts kissing you

and mmm eunwoo’s good at making out like he legit be taking your breath away and then you start feeling bin take off your soaked panties and he just goes right in

you literally moan into eunwoo’s mouth and your hands are straining against the ropes bc you just want to hold onto something !!

eunwoo feeling up your breasts and tweaking your nipples while bin is sucking on your clit and probing his tongue in and out your entrance??? euphoric

you’re literally feeling so many sensations right now and it’s just foreplay woo

and then the edging starts

bin??? hella good at eating out, oof what that mouth do

and with the added stimulation from eunwoo kissing your neck and pulling at your nips, you’re reaching your orgasm faster than anticipated

and suddenly they’re both off you

you: what the fuck?

you’re like gasping and glaring at the both of them and they just give you smug looks

bin: I don’t know if you deserve to cum just yet, y/n. right, eunwoo?

eunwoo chuckling as he nods and flicks at your nipple: binnie told me that you like talking back, hmmm that won’t work with both of us here y/n

your submissiveness kicking in and you’re whining: i won’t talk back, I promise

bin: I don’t know if I believe you y/n

and then they switch places and now bin’s making out with you again and eunwoo’s face to face with your cunt and he just shoves two fingers in your entrance and starts scissoring you

and right as you’re about to cum, they pull away again

this goes on at least two more times, you’re literally so frustrated tears are pooling in your eyes and you’re whining hard as hell, your wrists already aching from the ropes 

eunwoo: do you want us to untie you, y/n?

you nodding as you’re sniffling back the tears

aww they feel bad so eunwoo unties the ropes and he’s like gently rubbing at your wrists

bin wiping your tears away as he pinches at your cheek again

bin: you okay, y/n?

you: I’m so close, please

bin: alright baby, who do you want first, hm?

you honestly didn’t know, you had no preference, you just wanted to get railed

eunwoo: why not both?

your eyes go wide a little bit, your ass isn’t even prepped

bin sensing your hesitation and he just puts a hand on your waist: if you don’t want to--

you: no, i want to...I’m just...my ass isn’t ready...

eunwoo laughing cutely as he pats your thigh: we’ll prep you baby, don’t worry

you start by going on all fours, bin enters you first from behind and the groan he lets out bc you’re just so tight wow 

he literally has to restrain himself from just ramming into you, your walls just fit so snugly around him, his nails were digging into the skin of your waist

you open your mouth in a moan at the stretch and in that moment, eunwoo shoves his cock down your throat you literally gag

for reference, they’re both above average, no surprise there, I’d say both around 8 in., but bin’s girthier for sure

and so bin’s fucking your cunt while eunwoo’s fucking your mouth

simultaneously, eunwoo tugs at your hair and bin sneaks a finger down to gather some juices from your pussy before probing at your asshole

bin’s prepping you real well mmmmm

he’s literally fingering your ass while he’s pounding into you, the tip of his cock hitting so deep in your cervix

on the other hand you’re so focused on sucking eunwoo off, you take him as deep in your throat as you could, letting your jaw slack as he just thrusted in your mouth

and also the vibrations of your moans around his cock every time bin hits deep in you???

eunwoo swears he almost busts a nut when your hands reach up to play with his balls

he’s panting as he pulls your mouth off his cock: I need to be inside you before I cum

and then he’s lying down on his back and you start to ride eunwoo, and then bin lines his cock up at your other hole and you start to tense

eunwoo bringing you into a kiss to try and distract you from the pain your asshole’s about to feel

and you start hissing as bin starts to push in, you’re clenching so hard around eunwoo and tugging tightly at the ends of his hair

eunwoo starts making circles on your clit so that you could relax a bit to make it easier for bin to enter your back hole

and then the three of you just stay still for a bit when bin finally bottoms out, you’re still trying to get used to feeling stuffed full, you haven’t been fucked in so long and now you’re getting railed by two cocks??

the two of them are both saying sweet things to calm you down and distract you from the pain

and it’s cute, you know from your respective past hookup experiences with them that they’re really good at sensing discomfort or pain and would always tend to your needs

oof baby but as soon as you give the okay for both of them to move

it’s like you’re taken to another dimension holy shit

they both hit so deep, you swear to god their cocks have to be touching or something, or maybe at least reaching your intestines

when people say rearrange your guts, it definitely must have been this

you’re trying to set a pace on top of eunwoo, but bin thrusting from behind literally makes your knees go weak until eunwoo just lifts his hips and takes over, matching bin’s speed

and imagine this: bin pulling your hair, making your head tilt back and eunwoo just reaches up and covers your neck with his hand before he squeezes at your throat

your eyes are literally rolling into the back of your head, you have never felt this good ever in your life

your head’s spinning again, and you know all three of you are reaching the tipping point pretty soon, your stomach is churning, making you clench hard around both eunwoo and bin

eunwoo biting his lip as he groans, his grip tightening just a bit more around your neck

bin’s still yanking your hair back and he starts spanking your ass, he’s moaning as well

you literally scream, throat feeling raw, as you cum, you have never orgasmed so hard before, your body was convulsing around both of them and you just collapse on top of eunwoo

you’re vision literally sees white and your ears are ringing as they both cum in you

you black out for a little bit

eunwoo and bin: o_o holy fuck

the two of them start panicking like...did they just fuck you dead?? put you in a coma??

okay but just imagine eunwoo and bin bickering with each other about what to do like

bin: do we call 119???

eunwoo: what do we say? we fucked our friend into a coma?

it’s okay because you regain consciousness soon enough and both boys let out the biggest sigh of relief

you: ...what happened?

eunwoo: you passed out for a bit there y/n

you start giggling, much to their surprise, and you try to sit up

bin: ...are you okay y/n?

you: yeah, I can’t believe I blacked out because you guys fucked me so well, that’s pretty hot not gonna lie

eunwoo goes into the kitchen real quick to get you some water and bin sits down next to you

you thank eunwoo when he hands you the glass and he sits across from you and bin

the two roommates exchange a look and just high-five each other

you roll your eyes as they just laugh at each other...ugh boys

bin teasing you: I’ve never seen you so submissive y/n

eunwoo joining in: yeah, didn’t know you could squirt as well

you almost spit out the water: i-huh? no way

eunwoo: yeah, my stomach was soaked, I wiped it off when you were out

your face flushes, you’ve never squirted before

bin: don’t be embarrassed! it was hot, y/n, really

the three of you then just jump into a casual conversation about college, keep in mind you’re all still naked

and then you feel the cum just like in both your holes and it’s just uncomfortably sticky

you: uh...do you guys mind if I shower? my pussy feels gross right now

bin, with a glint in his eyes: I can clean that up for you, baby

before you know it, bin’s eating you out again -- to be more specific, he’s literally licking the mixture of yours and eunwoo’s cum from your cunt

that’s sexy...

you make eye contact with eunwoo and he’s just smirking as he sits back and watches you two, no intention on joining yet

alright but you had no idea if you could take another round right now, the first one literally made you pass out

so after bin makes you cum again, you tap out for the night

the three of you shower -- separately -- and then regroup in the living room to just chat and chill

the two insist you sleep over for the night since it’s past midnight by now

were there also hints of a round two in the morning?? maybe

you sleep in one of eunwoo’s shirts, but end up sleeping next to bin bc he’s whiny and likes cuddling

you three fuck again in the morning oops until eunwoo had to leave for work

then you and bin fuck again afterwards

happy threesome

happy comeback :)

4-5-21