#not to mention the noises both of them make

[nerdy-novelist017]

Soaked (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader Reader pt 8)

Hello, my lovelies! Sorry this took forever to write and post but I’ve been very busy with real life (ew) and I’m actually posting this while I’m on vacation. I wrote it on the plane and am posting in the car so please be kind if you see any mistakes hehe 😉

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 4.7k+

Summary- Benny’s never wanted anything as much as he wants to marry you, but with such different lives, you’re not so sure it will be as easy as he claims.

You felt the wind surge around you as Benny accelerated down the main road, his motorcycle roaring beneath you both. The world blurred past in a whirlwind of colors, but all you could focus on was the way your heart lifted, how a thrill of excitement shot through you as you zoomed past the rest of the gang. He did it just because he knew it’d make you giggle. And you did, the sound escaping you in a way that felt so carefree, so full of joy especially as you shot past Johnny and the others, leaving them in your dirt.

The wind was relentless, blowing your hair out of its carefully manicured braid, but you didn’t find yourself caring much anymore. The days spent with Benny had a way of shifting everything you thought had mattered. The things that once held so much weight – social status, gossip, public appearances – no longer seemed as important anymore. With Benny, it was almost like discovering a whole new world. No, not a new world. The same streets passed beneath the tires, the same faces you once worried about still existed. The world was still the same, but it was how he viewed it that felt so different. He didn’t care what others thought about him, didn’t pay attention to their expectations. He lived in his own world, surrounded by others like him that didn’t conform to the societal molds – people that you wouldn’t have even approached just based on their appearance. You never considered yourself a very judgemental person, but because of Benny, you have met and befriended people you could have never imagined.

That’s one of the things you loved about Benny. He wasn’t like anyone you had ever met before. He was different. And you were beginning to love that too.

He pulled off the main road, stopping in his signature spot in front of the club house. The roar of the rest of the gang pulling up sounded in the distance as Benny helped you off the bike. He held his grip on your hand, lacing his own fingers through yours as he pulled you gently into the bar. You followed him inside where the Vandals’ laughter and chatter soon filled the air. A familiar buzz of camaraderie enveloped the place, and before long, you found yourself seated around the table with a few of the core members. Benny was close – as always – with his arm draped over your shoulder.

“Hey, Bunny,” Cockroach’s voice cut through the sea of noise as he leaned forward and used his beer bottle to point at you. “When are you finally gonna say yes to our boy Benny, here?”

You stiffened slightly, the weight of the question hanging in the air and drawing the attention of the others at the table.

“Oh yeah,” Corky piped up, one eyebrow playfully cocked in a challenge. “He’s been asking, what, 100 times now? What’s the holdup? He’s not getting any younger, ya know?”

Heat filled your face at their teasing. Though Corky’s words were a bit of an exaggeration, they weren’t technically wrong. Since your kiss behind the clubhouse, Benny has asked you to marry him almost every day, sometimes more than once in a day. It had started by him mentioning married life in casual conversation, and you jokingly pointed out that he hadn’t actually proposed to begin with – not traditionally. And you were shocked to see him abandon everything he was doing in the moment to ask you to marry him. You giggled and rolled your eyes at his dramatics, but something deeper inside you caused your heart to flutter nervously. Since then, he’s asked several times, some in passing, a casual remark slipped into the conversation. Other times, he’d pause what he was doing, drop to one knee and grin up at you as if he were waiting for you to give in. But each time you’d laugh it off, brush it aside as him being unserious.

“Maybe I’m just waiting for the right moment?” you replied as you timidly played with the chain of your necklace, trying to deflect the attention.

“The right moment?” Cockroach parroted in disbelief. “He’s been proposin’ left and right for a week. Hell, I’d have said yes after the first time if it were me!”

The group laughed, and you tensed under Benny’s arm, wanting to melt into the floor from embarrassment. Benny squeezed your hand reassuringly, and he leaned, his voice dropping to a low murmur that was only meant for you, “They don’t mean nothin’ by that, you know that.”

You nodded, not trusting your own voice. He was right, you knew that. They didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but the constant razzing – especially with this particular subject – was start to weigh on you.

“Yeah, c’mon, Bunny,” Cal chimed in from across the way, “What’s it gonna take? Benny’s a catch! He’s got the bike, the looks, the . . . mommy’s issues. If you don’t say yes soon, you might lose your chance.”

That playful jab was too much for Benny who stiffened next to you. You expected him to get angry, to blow up like you had seen your father do when he was upset. But instead, Benny leaned forward, eyes narrowing with a playful glint that you had come to adore. The table was buzzing with laughter, but he wasn’t about to let the spotlight stay on you for too long. Without missing a beat, he flashed a grin at Corky, his hand raised as he said, “Alright, alright. But let’s not pretend you all ain’t desperate for a distraction since none of you can keep a bike upright without fallin’ on your asses.”

The table roared with laughter and Corky’s mouth fell open in mock offense. “That was one time! And I had an oil slick!”

Johnny immediately jumped in, “Yeah Corky, an oil slick you created when your bike was leakin’ everywhere.”

Laughter erupted again and you shot Benny a grateful look as the guys started ribbing Corky about his infamous fall. Benny’s eyes met yours briefly, his thumb brushing your hand under the table in a silent message: I’ve got you. Most of the group knew you were shy and did not appreciate being the center of attention in a crowd, and they respected that. However, there were a few class clowns (as Benny called them) who loved to tease you, knowing it could get a reaction without fail. But Benny never let it go on for long, always shutting them down when he recognized your discomfort.

They’ve never teased you about marriage though. You had to wonder if Benny had voiced his irritation to them at some point or if they had picked up on your hesitation organically. Either way, it left you feeling bad. Excusing yourself, you wiggled out of Benny’s grasp as you stood and made your way for the restroom, needing a moment to breathe, to clear your head. But just as you reached the back of the bar, a voice stopped you.

“You ain’t gotta worry about what they say to you,” Funny Sonny stood leaning casually against the bar top as he sipped a glass of whiskey. “That just means they like you, accept you.”

You paused, glancing over your shoulder at the table of rowdy bikers. “I’m just not . . . used to it. All the teasin’.”

Sonny nodded, his disheveled hair falling into his eyes as he grinned. “You’ll get used to it. Won’t be long till you’re the one throwing out the first jabs.”

He said it so nonchalantly, as if it were the most obvious course of action, as if you weren’t from completely different worlds. You furrowed your brows, eyes casting downwards as you admitted, “I’m not so sure about that. I’m not at all like you guys.”

“You don’t gotta be like us to be with us. We’re family here and family means lookin’ out for each other, even the ones who came from different backgrounds,” he said, his voice lowering a register to a bit more of a serious tone.

His words settled over you like a warm blanket, the concept so foreign yet so familiar. Family. You knew what that was, you had one, you were loved by one. But for some reason, it felt like it meant something different with the Vandals. They chose their family, stood by them despite no blood relation. Your parents loved you, you knew that. They showed it in their own ways every day. But by default, they had to love you. With the Vandals, they chose to care for each other, chose to look out for each other. In a way, it almost seemed more powerful, more profound.

Being Benny’s girl didn’t just mean he alone had your best interest at heart. It also meant having the rest of the Vandals on your side too, all of them looking out for you. You weren’t sure if you’ve ever experienced such an intense loyalty before, even from blood relatives. And it left you with a warm feeling in your chest.

When you returned to the table, Benny was already standing as if he were waiting for you. His eyes met yours with a slight unease, almost like he thought you wouldn’t come back, like he thought you were so upset that you’d sneak out the backdoor.

“Wanna go for a night ride?” he asked, his voice soft as his hand extended out for you.

Your heart squeezed at his thoughtfulness. He knew how much you were growing to enjoy the feeling of blazing down the empty streets under a star-filled sky with him. A smile tugged at your lips, and you took his hand without hesitation, nodding.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips as your hand slid into his own. You were vaguely aware of the groans and exaggerated protests from the table about the night being still young, but you didn’t hesitate to follow Benny as he led you to the door. He pulled you along to his Harley, the cool and fresh air a welcome change.

The tension from earlier still lingered as Benny’s hand touched your leg, helping you onto the back of the bike. You wrapped your arms around his torso, pressing your face into his back, finding solace in the familiar scent from his jacket.

He drove you around the city, stars and stop lights shining above, engine roaring below. He eventually pulled off the main drag, heading down a quieter road that led out of town. The blacktop blurred beneath you as he slowed the speed to more of a lazy joyride. He took a familiar turn, stopping at the small pull off area before a bridge. The sound of the engine faded as he brought the bike to a stop, the air filling with crickets’ song. The night’s air was breezy, but a welcome change from the hot, loud atmosphere of the clubhouse.

Benny dismounted first, reaching out to help you down. His touch – lingering longer than necessary – against your arm felt electric, sending a jolt of butterflies to your stomach, his eyes searching your face as if he was trying to read your thoughts. The two of you walked over the concrete bridge, pausing once in the middle. You leaned over the railing, getting lost in the gentle swirl of the water below. But Benny was lost in the sight of you.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice low, the usual playful teasing replaced by something softer and reserved only for you.

With your heart beating hard at his gentle tone, you nodded. “I’m fine.”

He frowned, reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair from your face. “I know the guys can be a bit much. I don’t like when they tease you like that. I didn’t mean for them to make you uncomfortable.”

You couldn’t help but smile a bit at his words, knowing that wanting to protect you was something he took very seriously, even if it meant from his own friends, his own family.

“I know,” you responded softly, leaning your chin on your hand over the railing.

“I’ll talk to them, make sure they won’t raz you like that anymore,” he promised, his expression serious.

“It’s not that. It’s just . . . I don’t know. It’s a lot to get used to,” you admitted gently. Before Benny, you’d never even been in a bar before, never ridden a motorcycle, never stayed out past curfew. He was a completely different experience than you were accustomed to. And now he wanted you to marry, after only knowing him for a few weeks. He wanted to be your husband, your partner for life. Your life felt like a bit of a whirlwind ever since you met him, but you wanted to be certain it wasn’t just fun because it was new.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood there, his eyes tracing your features, his hand resting over your own. You could practically see the gears turning in his brain, something in him conflicted. Finally, he released a soft sigh, putting an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in close. “You don’t have to answer them, you know. Hell, you don’t have to answer me. Not till you’re ready.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you breathed in his scent – leather, smoke and something uniquely Benny. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that I . . . ”

Benny pulled back slightly, his fingers tilting your chin up to meet his gaze, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “Hey, you don’t owe anyone an explanation, not even me. You’ll say yes when you’re ready. And when that time comes, I’ll be here. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as it was your turn to kid. “How do you know I’ll say yes?”

Benny’s smile was gentle but still roguishly confident. His hand lingered on your cheek, his fingers tracing down the curve of your jaw as if he were mapping every detail of you. “I just know. When you feel it – when it’s real – you just know.”

He said it so simply as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, as if love were the most uncomplicated concept. You didn’t understand that, couldn’t see it that way. You’d seen the love your parents shared and that was beautiful and kind but it was also messy and cruel more often than not. And you understood that your parents were not the only representation of what love and marriage was supposed to be, but it was a constant presence in your life. They didn’t have perfect love, not like what you’d see in the movies or read in books. And you wondered if maybe you were giving too high of expectations for what love was supposed to be, but what you felt when you were around Benny . . . well, it felt exactly like the books described.

The way he looked at you, as if you were the most important thing in the world, made you feel so seen. The way he listened to you as if you were the most entertaining show, made you feel so heard. And the truth was undeniable: you were falling for Benny faster than you thought possible. It was terrifying. Benny was all fire and freedom, a rebel who didn’t play by the rules, who followed his own path with reckless abandon. And you admired that about him, but the thought of stepping into his world permanently felt like stepping off a ledge into the unknown.

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” he asked, pulling you back into the present.

You pulled back slightly, biting your lip in contemplation before speaking your mind, “Don’t you wonder if there are other girls out there that you haven’t even met yet? Girls who are more suited for you?”

He shook his head, his voice light as he said, “Nah, I know you’re the only one for me, kid.”

“But marriage is serious. It’s forever.”

His hand slid down to your hip, turning you to face him fully, his expression solemn. “I never . . . I never thought marriage was real. The way I saw my mom and old man together . . . what they had wasn’t love. And I realized that at an early age. I didn’t think it was something that was real, just a bunch of fairytale bullshit you tell little kids. The girls I’ve been with, girls that may have been more suited for me, have never made me feel what I feel with you, Bunny. This is serious to me too because it proves everything I’ve never believed in.”

Emotion caught in the back of your throat as you pictured the man standing before you as just a boy living in a toxic household, an unloving home. It made you want to hold him tight, to shield him from the rest of the world. The man who held you so gently, who took you for night rides just to cheer you up. The man who came to your bake sale when nobody else did. The man who promised to drive slow so as not to scare you. The man who said he’d follow you all the way to California so that you didn’t have to go by yourself. The man who taught you about his hobbies with eagerness, and listened to yours with attentiveness.

He deserved to be loved in the same way he loved. But the tragic thing was that he didn’t see that, couldn’t comprehend someone loving him like that. He was damaged by his childhood, and you realized that he didn’t think he was worthy of repair. But you’d show him that he was, that he was worthy of everything he never had.

Slowly, you lifted your hands to gently cup his face, and his breath hitched in his throat. There was a shift in his expression – his usual teasing and bravado now replaced with some raw and unguarded as though he was offering you a glimpse into a deeper part of him, one rarely ever shown to anyone.

He pressed his forehead to yours, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “You’re not just some girl to me, Bunny. You know that, right?”

The words sent a shiver down your spine. He wasn’t playing around now, not hiding behind his usual flirty quips. His sincerity was almost overwhelming. You swallowed thickly. “But what if I mess this up? What if I’m the one who can’t do this?”

Benny’s brows furrowed and he lifted a hand to brush across your cheek, his touch gentle but grounding. “You won’t. You couldn’t, even if you tried.”

“You’re making it sound so easy,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, as if you didn’t quite believe him.

Benny could feel your tremble, the shaky laugh betraying your nerves you were trying so hard to hide. He could sense your heart racing, and he wanted so desperately to be the one to soothe it, to take away the hesitation in your eyes. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, the soft curve of it making his heart ache in his chest. He loved how your lips quivered just slightly under his touch. He loved making you blush, loved teasing you until you looked at him like you were annoyed or completely at his mercy. But this . . . this was different. His touch lingered on your lip, slow and almost reverent as he savored the way you responded to him. It wasn’t about teasing anymore – it was about showing you what you meant to him.

“It is,” he murmured, his voice a little rougher than he intended “It’s easy because it’s you.”

The air between you felt electric as his hand slid down the curve of your neck, his fingers lingering there, feeling the steady thrum of your heartbeat that seemed to match his own wild one. He ducked his head slightly as he whispered, “You’re scared. But you don’t need to be.”

He meant it, more than he meant anything in his life. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes again, searching for any sign of doubt, any sign that you didn’t feel the same way he did. Your eyes – wide and uncertain – met his, and Benny felt the weight of his words over them both.

“How can you be so sure?” you asked, your soft voice almost disappearing in the night.

And how could he explain it, especially since he’s never been good at explaining his feelings? How could he put into words what was so abundantly clear to him? That you made everything – even the most outrageous things – seem possible. That with you, he didn’t feel like just some fuck-up waiting for the next diaster. With you he felt grounded, like he belonged somewhere. Like you saw him for more than just the wild, reckless kid everyone else saw.

“Because you make me sure,” he responded with a gentle, encouraging smile as his hands moved to tilt your chin upwards to him. “You make my life feel like it’s supposed to.”

His gaze moved down to your mouth once more as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, and he simply couldn’t resist anymore. He closed the gap, brushing his lips so softly against your own. The kiss was gentle, tender, but as you responded to his touch, the need that had been simmering inside him for so long flared to life. His hands dropped down to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, smiling into the kiss when he heard your slight gasp.

His heart pounded in his chest as the world seemed to fade away briefly until it was just you and him, just this. He never wanted to stop, never wanted to let you go.

But you did eventually pull away, the need to breathe becoming all consuming. Breathlessly, he pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes remaining closed as he focused on slowing his pulse. His hands remained on your waist, holding you like you might slip away if he let go.

“You see?” he whispered as his lips brushing against your forehead softly. “It’s easy being with you.”

You giggled and his heart soared at the melody. It took everything in him not to pull you back into another kiss, not to hold onto you like you were the only thing that kept him grounded.

His lips still tingled from the kiss, and he could taste the faint sweetness of your breath, the softness of your lips. It wasn’t enough. It never felt like enough for Benny. He wanted more of you. He’d never wanted anything like he wanted you, never craved anyone like he craved you. It was almost unbearable, like every second where he wasn’t touching you was a second wasted.

And yet, he knew you were scared. He could see it in the way you looked down at your shoes, could hear it in the timidity of your voice. It only made him want to protect you more, to make you see that being with him would never be something you had to fear. But he didn’t know how to say that without sounding like he was pushing, without making you feel like you were being rushed into a decision that was as much about you as it was him.

But damn if he didn’t want to make you his.

He opened his eyes and pulled back enough to look at you face again, to really take you in. And my god, the way you were looking up at him with those wide, innocent eyes made his chest tighten. And you didn’t even realize how much power you had over him. One look, one smile, and he was a goner.

Before either of you could speak, thunder cracked off in the distance, bringing you both back to the present, back to the rest of the world. You glanced up at the dark clouds that blew in to cover the stars, wondering how long you had stood on this bridge with Benny.

“Guess we should get back,” you said sheepishly.

“Guess so,” Benny replied with a lazy grin as though the storm could come crashing down and he’d still be perfectly content standing here with you.

“Do you think it’s going to rain?” you asked as you walked to his bike, glancing up at the thick, dark clouds blowing in from the west.

“Nah,” he said as he swung a leg over the bike with that signature confidence that made your heart race. “We’ll be fine.”

Famous last words.

******

By the time Benny pulled up to your house, rain was pouring from the sky like a waterfall, fat and heavy droplets splattering onto the sidewalk. Despite wearing Benny’s Vandals jacket, the rain had completely soaked you. Your hair, which had been meticulously pinned up just hours ago, was plastered to your face, and your dress clung to your body like a second skin.

You didn’t wait for him to shut off the bike before you hopped off and tugged on his sleeve.

“C’mon!” You laughed, tugging on Benny’s sleeve as you ran for the safety of your porch overhang. Your heels splashed through the water pooling on the blacktop, and he followed quickly behind, his warm hands finding your waist to steady you from falling as you both stumbled beneath the overhang.

Breathless and grinning like an idiot, you turned to face him, and you were momentarily stunned by the sight. Rainwater rolled down from his usually swept up hair, sliding down the curve of his cheekbones and falling off his jawline. He only wore a whote t shirt, the wet fabric turning almost transparent as it clung to every ridge, every toned muscle and you blinked before your gaze shot back up to his face. Even as wet as a drowned rat, he still managed to look so effortlessly sexy.

He was grinning at you with that boyish expression, and heat filled your face at the realization that you were just as soaked as he was but definitely not as pretty a sight. You probably looked like a mess — makeup smeared, hair ruined — but he was staring at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

“Not gonna rain, huh?” you teased, quirking an eyebrow at the heavy rainfall just off your porch.

“Just a light sprinkle,” he returned easily, but you noticed he had to bite his bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“Do you wanna come in?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. “To dry off?”

He sobered instantly, his gaze raking over your form before moving to your front door. He’d never been inside your house, never seen where you call home, where you lay down at night and replay your memories of him. There was never really an option for him to be inside your house. He’d never met your parents — despite asking multiple times to meet them, but you couldn’t bring yourself to put neither your parents nor Benny though that. Deep down, you knew your father would never approve of Benny, never give him his blessing. It was a disaster waiting to happen when he found out that you were dating a biker. You begged your mother to keep it a secret to which she obliged, but you knew it wouldn’t be long till he found out.

Benny took a full step back from you, hesitation obvious in his face, his voice low and almost regretful he said. “I—I better not, Bun.”

Normally, you wouldn’t ask again after being denied, wouldn’t be so bold. But you weren’t the same girl you were a few weeks ago before you met Benny. Emboldened by the perfect opportunity to have him inside your home, to share a piece of yourself with him, you stepped forward.

You took a step forward, your voice soft but sure. “My parents aren’t home. C’mon, just to dry off and wait till the rain lets up a little. You can’t drive in that anyway. It’s not safe and I won’t let you.”

Benny released a breath that sounded a lot like a laugh as he shook his head, clearly conflicted by your invitation. And for a moment, you thought he might shake his head and turn away. You thought he might face the rainstorm and leave you behind.

But instead, he nodded and your heart soared at the small gesture. Filled with hopeful energy, you shot him a smile, moving to open the front door and invite him inside your home, inside your world.

-Tag List-

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[meazalykov]

nationality switch

esmee brugts x uswnt!dutch!reader

summary: choosing a national team almost made you drift away from the person you love most

warnings: angst

it’s been a long time since you’ve seen esmee, since that fight—since everything changed. 

you’re sitting in the corner of a cozy café in barcelona, sipping your iced coffee, lost in your thoughts about how things used to be. the only noise around you is the coffee machines brewing or the ovens beeping in the background of your thoughts.

you never expected to see her today. you thought she moved to arsenal in london. a club that she mentioned her interest in. but then again, nothing with esmee ever goes as planned.

the bell above the café door chimes, and you look over at the door on instinct. when you see her, your stomach flips. is that her? you had to do a double take.

it is esmee. her eyes lock on yours instantly, and for a second, it’s like no time has passed. the familiarity, the memories, all come rushing back. you miss her, but the weight of your last conversation—the fight—hangs heavily between you both.

you don’t move. you don’t know if you should, and maybe she doesn’t either, because she hesitates before walking over. you freeze before you see her stop at the counter.

you took a deep breath before she gets her flat white and walks over.

when she finally reaches your table, you see that same spark in her eyes, but there’s something else now. something different.

“hey,” she says, her voice soft, almost tentative, as if she’s afraid of how you’ll respond.

you raise an eyebrow, trying to keep things light. 

“esmee, how did you even find me?”

she offers a small smile, a little suspicious. 

“we never turned off each other’s locations on our phones.”

that breaks the tension for a moment, and you can’t help but laugh. 

it’s such a typical esmee thing to say. well for you, as someone who is the closest to her. she never fails to make a heavy moment become lighter. you shake your head at the absurdity of it all. 

“of course.”

she sits down across from you at the wooden table, and suddenly, the reality of everything hits. you’re both here in barcelona. after all this time, all the distance, somehow, fate—or maybe something else—has pulled you back together. 

it feels like you’re supposed to be here, like you were always meant to end up on the same team again. it hasn't been too long since you were both at psv. your contracts ended at the same time and you had a bad feeling that it would've been your last time together.

it wasn't.

“so…” esmee starts, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the napkin in front of her. “i heard the news.”

you nod slowly. “yeah. barca. i guess it was inevitable, huh?”

“inevitable,” she echoes, her gaze dropping to the table before lifting back to meet yours. 

“we were always supposed to end up here together, it was our dream.”

the silence stretches between you both, and it’s not uncomfortable, but it’s heavy. there’s so much unsaid, and you know it. she knows it. 

the past months have been complicated. after the women’s world cup, after that game against the netherlands where you scored that header, after you told her that you weren't going to represent the netherlands on the senior level, things between you two were…different.

“you were mad,” you say softly, cutting through the silence.

her eyes darken slightly, and she nods, not bothering to deny it. “yeah, i was.”

“because I celebrated my goal?”

“because it felt like you were celebrating more than just a goal,” she admits. 

“it felt like you were celebrating the fact that you chose them over us. over me.”

throwback to july 26th, 2023

it’s the 62nd minute, and the game between the u.s and the netherlands is 0-1. the tension is suffocating—this isn’t just any group stage match. 

it’s a battle between two teams who were in the finals of the last world cup. the netherlands want revenge.

for you, it’s personal. you are dutch and american. your mother was born and raised in eindhoven, while your dad is an american who studied there then met your mother.

while growing up, you considered yourself to be dutch. you never lived in the united states. however, you've wondered what it was like to live over there.

at the age of 8 you met your bestfriend, esmee, at a soccer club. the both of you grew up, joined psv together, and played for the dutch youth teams together.

when your father expressed how he wanted you to chose the uswnt when you reached the senior level, you didn't count him out. the team was the best in the world.

the 2019 world cup solidified your decision to represent your father's side of the family. however, sometimes you think about the other world where you chose the dutch team instead of the americans.

you jog back to your position for a corner kick being taken by rose lavelle, feeling the weight of the moment settle on your shoulders. 

your heart pounds in your chest, and as you glance toward the dutch goal, your eyes flicker briefly to the orange clad figure on the left. esmee. 

she’s looks at you briefly, her expression unreadable. for a split second, it’s like time slows down. you remember the late nights practicing at psv, the laughter, the way she used to tell you that you’d both dominate the world together one day.

now, you’re on opposing sides, thanks to you choosing your other nationality.

the whistle blows. you snap back to the present, focusing on the corner being taken. 

the ball soars through the air, heading toward the front post. you leap, eyes locked on the ball, and your timing is perfect. you rise above the defenders, connecting with the ball in a powerful header that rockets past the dutch goalkeeper.

goal!

for a moment, the world stops. then the noise of the crowd hits you like a wave, and you’re running, arms outstretched in celebration. your teammates swarm around you, shouting, grabbing your jersey, jumping on your back. 

you can hear julie yelling for you and lindsey clapping you on the back with a proud grin. it’s chaos—pure joy, adrenaline, and pride.

but as you slow down, turning back toward midfield, your eyes find esmee again. 

she’s standing there, watching, her expression unreadable at first. in the moment that you look away before turning back, you see it: the hurt. the disbelief. you know it’s not just about the goal. it’s about everything else.

you swallow the lump forming in your throat and try to focus on your teammates still celebrating around you, but esmee’s look is burned into your mind. 

she goes back on the left-back then stands, her hands clenched into fists by her sides, it looks as if she’s frozen. you see her teammates—players you grew up with on youth teams—pat her on the back, but it’s clear she’s not hearing them.

it’s the celebration that did it. you know it. the way you threw your fists in the air, the way you smiled at your teammates like this goal was everything. 

to esmee, it wasn’t just a goal against the netherlands. it was a statement, a reminder that you chose the united states over the netherlands, over her.

as the game resumes, you push the thought to the back of your mind. you have to stay focused. there’s still time left, and the dutch team isn’t going to back down easily. but every time you glance in esmee’s direction, it stings. 

you see the frustration in her movements, the way she presses forward with even more intensity than before. she’s angry—at you, at the situation—and it shows.

the game ends and its tied. the rest of her team is exhausted, but she doesn’t even wait for the usual post-match handshakes and shirt swaps. she walks straight down the tunnel, disappearing from view, and a pit forms in your stomach.

you want to go after her, explain that the celebration wasn’t meant to hurt her. but deep down, you know this moment has been building for a long time. 

the decision to play for the united states on the senior level, the arguments, the silence between you two—it’s all led to this. 

in the locker room, your teammates are quiet, they’re focused on the next match. 

your thoughts are stuck on esmee. you stare down at your phone, wondering if you should text her, try to explain. but what could you say? what could make this better?

back to the barcelona cafe, a month later

you blink, taken aback by the raw honesty in her words. 

you’ve had months to think about it—about what it meant when you chose to play for the uswnt, about how your dad had always pushed you to follow in his footsteps. but you didn’t think esmee would take it this personally.

“esmee, it wasn’t about that,” you say, voice soft, almost pleading.

“you know it wasn’t like that.”

it was your first goal for the national team. it happened to be against your other country, the other country that wanted you to play for them too. 

your mother is dutch, and your father is american– so you had a tough decision to make.

esmee shakes her head, and for a moment, you think she’s going to argue. but then she sighs, leaning back in her chair. 

“i know. but it hurt. i wanted you to play with me and for the oranje. i wanted us to play together, like we always did in eindhoven. and then, when you celebrated after that goal…it felt like you’d forgotten everything we’d had.”

“i didn’t forget. i could never forget,” you say, and it’s the truth. you haven’t forgotten a single moment. 

“but esmee, you know how much my dad wanted this for me.” 

“i know,” she whispers, and there’s pain in her voice. 

“but i wanted you to want the same things i did. i wanted you to choose me.”

her words hit you hard, and for a second, you can’t respond. this is about more than just football, more than just a decision you had to make when choosing a national team. 

it’s about the two of you—about what you’ve meant to each other all these years.

“esmee,” you start, leaning forward, trying to make her understand. “it wasn’t about choosing them over you. you mean everything to me. i-i didn’t even realize—”

“that’s the thing,” she interrupts, her voice trembling slightly. 

“i was upset because i always want to be around you. it was selfish, maybe, but it’s the truth. i thought…i thought i was going to lose you when you chose them. what if you didn’t choose to come to barcelona? what if i didn’t? we wouldn’t see each other anymore..”

you frown, confused. “esmee, you’re never going to lose me. what are you talking about?”

she bites her lip, her eyes searching yours, and suddenly, it’s like all the walls she’s built up come crashing down. her hands stop gripping on her coffe cup and goes to gently hold your right hand instead. 

you froze.

“i’m talking about how i feel about you,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. 

you feel your heart skip a beat, and for some reason, her confession doesn’t surprise you. 

it’s like you always knew, like a part of you had been waiting for her to say it out loud. she’s been your best friend for years, but deep down, maybe you always knew there was something more.

the left-back never made her crush on you a hidden secret. she was never outright, but her actions towards you spoke for itself. 

“es…” you start, but you don’t know what to say. so instead, you reach across the table, gently taking your other hand and holding hers.

she looks at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable, like she’s terrified of what you’ll say next.

“i like you too,” you say softly, your thumb brushing over the back of her hand. 

“i think i always have.”

her eyes widen even more, but there’s a soft smile playing on her lips now. 

“really?”

you nod, giving her a small smile in return. “yeah. really.”

you stand up slowly, moving around the table, and she doesn’t pull away when you lean down and press a soft kiss to her forehead. 

it feels right and natural, like something you should’ve done a long time ago. you wanted to, but you didn't know how she felt about you then.

nobody was present in the cafe instead of the barista who was too focused on making drinks, so you didn’t feel embarrassed to kiss her.

when you pull back, esmee smiling up at you, and for the first time in months, you feel like things between you two might finally be okay.

“so…barcelona, huh?” you say, trying to lighten the mood.

esmee laughs, that familiar sound you’ve missed so much. “yeah. looks like we’re stuck together again.”

you grin, squeezing her hand gently. “good. i wouldn’t want it any other way.”

my masterlist is here if you want to read more!

[velarisdusk]

Embers to Ice

Cassian x Reader

Series Masterlist Part 5 <- ✦.⁺.✦.⁺.✦ -> Part 7 - TBD!

word count: 6k

content: [ explicit sexual content, dub-con, unprotected PIV, rough sex, rough oral (m receiving), fingering, dirty talk, gagging, slapping, begging, degradation | mentions of infidelity, explicit language, emotional manipulation, alcohol ]

summary: When something pushes Cassian's anger over the edge, you receive an unexpected text from him. It ignites a fiery and intense encounter, blurring the lines between desire and pain. As his anger drives him to relentless passion, you're left to confront both the storm of emotions and the unsettling truth that follows.

author's note: we're coming up on the end here omgomg how exciting!!!! well.. maybe not super exciting for yall, these final two installments are a bit uhhhh......... anyway sorry for the bomb drop at the end teehee (no im not)

Cassian carved through the ice, his movements sharp, cutting, but automatic. His mind was far from focused on the drills. He was just here, skating because it was something to do, something to drown out the gnawing anger that had been festering for weeks. The rest of the team was trickling in, but there was no camaraderie in the air — none of the easy-going banter or brotherhood he once felt. The weight of their betrayal hung thick, unspoken, but suffocating.

Three weeks. Three weeks since he’d caught her at Ianthe’s party, caught all of them. Three weeks since everything came crashing down. He hadn’t spoken to her since he’d dropped her off at her mom’s. The apartment felt too big without her, too empty. She wasn’t just his anymore. She was theirs too — all of them. Every interaction with his teammates felt like an insult, every laugh he’d heard them share like a knife between his ribs, twisting just enough to remind him they had all taken something from him.

Cassian’s gloved hands tightened around his stick as he skated another lap. He could feel the eyes of his teammates on him, could sense the tension rippling through the air. No one had addressed it, not directly. But it was there. Palpable.

He pushed forward, the sharp bite of his blades cutting into the ice, trying to shake the anger threatening to overtake him. But then the rink doors swung open, and Eris stepped onto the ice, his skates gliding effortlessly as if he owned the place.

Cassian barely glanced at him — until he caught a blur of red. 

His gaze zeroed in on the red scrunchie, wrapped around the shaft of Eris’s hockey stick. It looked an awful lot like the one you wore to their games as a good luck charm. He wasn’t naive.

The world seemed to freeze around him, the noise of the rink dulling to a muted hum. The red fabric, twirling around with each movement Eris made, was like a flashing neon sign — mocking him, daring him to react. It wasn’t just a scrunchie. It was proof. Cassian’s knuckles whitened as his grip tightened on his stick. His pulse pounded in his ears, his heart slamming against his ribcage as his fury bubbled to the surface. He wanted to hit something. No. He wanted to hit him. 

“Nice scrunchie, Eris.” The words slid from his mouth, low and cold, as they glided past each other. 

Eris didn’t even glance at him, the bastard. Just smiled that infuriating smile that made him want to punch his teeth in, twirling his stick lazily in his hand. “What can I say?” Eris called back, loud enough for it to echo throughout the rink, for everyone else to hear. “I always leave with a souvenir.”

He could see the other guys trying to avoid his gaze, awkward and unsure, but none of them said anything. Not one of them. It was enough to make Cassian’s blood boil.

His chest heaved as he fought the urge to lash out, to take a swing at Eris right then and there. But he didn’t. Instead, he let the anger simmer, his jaw clenching so hard it ached. The tension coiled tight within him like a live wire sparking just beneath his skin, the weight of everything pressing down on him like a vice. 

Cassian led them all through the drills, but he barely registered any of it. Every glance at Eris, every flick of that red scrunchie, was a reminder of how everything had fallen apart. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You’re sitting at the small desk in your childhood bedroom, the dim glow of the evening sun filtering through the curtains, staring blankly at a cup of coffee that’s long since gone cold. It’s been three days since you shared Eris’s company, the weight of your decisions settling like lead in your chest. This room, so familiar, used to feel so safe. Now, it just feels… too small, too suffocating. 

Cassian is still back at the apartment, you assume. You haven’t been back there since the evening of the party. You can picture it: his clothes strewn carelessly in the closet, the dent in the couch where he always sat, the ring of your perfume still lingering in the air. The life you built together — the life you wrecked — is just there, untouched, waiting, while you sit here. Stuck.

You haven’t spoken in weeks. Not since the night he found out. Not since his eyes darkened with betrayal and he left you standing at your mother’s door, guilty. And the shame, the regret, the memories won’t let you go.

Especially not the ones of Eris. Three days ago, his hands were on you. Three days ago, you were tied up in his basement and tangled in his sheets, knowing you shouldn’t be but doing it anyway. He made you feel wanted, but the moment it was over, the emptiness came back. No matter how much you tried to bury it, it’s still there. The mess, the guilt, all of it crashing down on you like a punishment you can’t escape.

Your phone vibrates on the desk, pulling you out of your thoughts. You aren’t expecting anything, so when you see Cassian’s name light up the screen, it’s like a cold hand gripping your heart. Your fingers hesitate above the screen. It’s been weeks. Why now?

You tap the notification, and your breath catches in your throat when you read the message. 

Come over?

Your mind reels. Is he reaching out for a conversation? Is this a second chance, or just another storm surge? You know better than to hope too much, Cassian doesn’t forgive easily. But you can’t help the flicker of something — hope, desperation, need — that sparks to life in your chest. Still, there’s dread pooling in your stomach. The anger in his eyes that night, when he’d caught you all, you haven’t been able to get it out of your head. 

why ?

A long pause. You stare at the screen, pulse thrumming in your ears, until finally, the reply comes. 

You’ll see.

“what do you mean ?” you respond. A minute passes, then two. Your stomach twists in knots as you watch the “typing” bubble flash and disappear, then reappear again.

I think you know what I mean.

You close your eyes, his words sinking in, but you can’t read the tone. You’ve never been more afraid of a message in your life. 

cass, i don’t like fighting with you. can we talk ? please ?

His response is immediate. Who said anything about fighting?

You bite your lip, the uncertainty clawing at you. What does he want from you? An apology? Closure? Or something else entirely? Part of you wants to refuse, to put some more distance between you both before you get pulled back into the emotional chaos. But the other part, the one still clinging to the hope that things might not be as broken as they seem, presses on.

why now ?

It’s blunt, but you need to know. After weeks of nothing, after he’d shut you out completely, why now?

Does it matter?

Meet me, or don’t. Up to you.

The pit in your stomach deepens. The words are cold, and yet there’s something just underneath them, something unresolved and simmering just beneath the surface. You know this isn’t going to be easy, and that whatever happens tonight will leave you with more scars than you already have. But…

what time ?

9. Door will be open.

It’s 8 now. You stare at the screen, his final message sitting there like a weight pressing down on your chest. You should feel relieved that he’s giving you a chance, but instead, there’s only dread — and that flicker of hope that refuses to die. You set the phone down and let out a shaky breath. Cassian’s messages were as vague as they were unsettling, leaving you to stew in a mixture of dread and longing. The suddenness of his invite, the cold indifference in his words, the fact that you had no idea what would be waiting for you when you got there… You couldn’t shake the feeling that this meeting was going to end badly, but you couldn’t turn away from it, either. Not from him. 

Pushing back from the desk, you stood and wandered over to the small mirror above your dresser, staring at your reflection. Your eyes were tired, dark circles haunting your gaze from sleepless nights spent replaying every mistake you made. You didn’t know how to fix things. Hell, you weren’t even sure if you could fix things. But the need to try was too strong to ignore. 

Why now? You’d asked him, and his answer hadn’t been comforting. What would you even say to him? No amount of rehearsing could prepare you for the real thing, and every potential conversation that played out in your head ended in disaster. The truth was, you didn’t have the right words, didn’t know how to explain why you’d done what you had. Worse, you didn’t even know if he’d listen. He very well may have been calling you over to come get your things. 

As you stood in front of your closet trying to decide what to wear, you rubbed at the tightness in your chest, struggling to steady your breath. But the anxiety was relentless, spiking every time the thought of facing him crept back in. Cassian’s anger had always been a force to reckon with, and after everything you’d done, you didn’t want to imagine it directed at you. 

Maybe this is what I deserve, you thought bitterly. Maybe this meeting wasn’t about closure or second chances. Maybe it was just another consequence of your actions.

Those words echoed in your mind as you stood in front of the door. Your door. His door. Just like he said, it was unlocked, the latch clicking open with a slight push. The quiet inside felt oppressive, thick. You hesitated on the threshold, half-tempted to turn around and leave, but the soft hum of the TV in the living room drew you in. 

And there he was — Cassian, sitting in the dim light, his arms crossed, his broad shoulders tense. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t so much as glanced your way, but the air in the room shifted the moment you stepped inside. The space between you felt tense, like something fragile waiting to shatter. 

You closed the door behind with a soft click, the sound almost deafening in the silence that followed. 

“You came,” Cassian said, his voice low, emotionless. He didn’t bother looking at you, his gaze fixed ahead on the TV, but you knew he wasn’t watching. You could feel the storm brewing beneath the surface.

“Yeah.” Your voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. 

He stayed silent for a long moment. You were about to say something when he stood from the couch. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there. But when he finally turned to face you, it was like a punch to the gut. You could see it — the pain. The shadows under his eyes were darker than you remembered, his normally sharp features softened with exhaustion. Cassian had lost just as much sleep as you had, maybe more. And of course, he had. You’d wrecked everything between you in the worst way possible. You’d torn him apart. 

He took a slow step toward you, his gaze heavy, intense. There was no softness in his eyes, no hint of the Cassian who used to hold you close after every game, who used to make you laugh when no one else could. This version of him… he was something else. The anger, the betrayal, it still lingered in the air around him, even if he wasn’t saying it out loud.

He stopped when he was close enough for you to feel the heat coming off his body, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of whiskey already on his breath. “You want a drink?” he asked, his voice rough but casual, like you were just two old friends catching up.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I’m good.” I don’t want to pretend everything’s fine, you wanted to say. You wanted to talk, to finally get everything out in the open. 

He sucked his teeth, a sound that almost felt like a scoff, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Ahh, come on,” he said, moving past you to the kitchen. You heard the clink of glass as he pulled two tumblers down from the shelf, the dull slosh of whiskey as he poured. “One drink,” he added, like it was a command rather than an offer. 

You watched him silently, feeling a knot tighten in your chest. He poured you each a glass, and by the time he turned back to you, there was something sharper in his gaze, something that made your skin prickle. Cassian walked back to where you stood, barely a few paces past the threshold, pressing one of the glasses into your hand without waiting for you to protest. His fingers brushed yours as he handed it over, the contact sending a wave of unease through you. 

He tipped his own glass to his lips, throwing back the whiskey in one smooth motion. His eyes never left yours, daring you, waiting.

You stared down at the amber liquid in your hand, feeling the weight of his gaze pressing down on you. Just one drink. It wasn’t going to change anything. With a quiet breath, you lifted the glass to your lips and took a sip, the sharp burn of the whiskey flooding your senses. 

Cassian’s expression didn’t change as he watched you, the empty glass still in his hand. “Good,” he muttered under his breath, setting his glass down on the kitchen island with a clink that echoed in the stillness. 

Before you could say anything, he stepped closer, closing the small gap between you, his presence overwhelming. The heat from his body made your skin tingle, and when his hand reached out to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, your breath hitched. His touch was too familiar, too careful for the tension that buzzed between you. It sent a jolt through you, a reminder of all the nights you’d spent in this very apartment, tangled up with him, and how far away that felt now. 

“Cass, I–” you started, your voice trembling, but he didn’t let you finish. 

He shushed you, and his fingers slid down to your jaw, holding you there as his thumb brushed over your cheek. His lips were so close to yours now, close enough that you could feel his breath puff against your skin. Your heart raced in your chest, your mind screaming at you to pull back, to stop this before it started. 

“Please, Cass, we need to talk,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I–”

“I didn’t bring you here to talk,” he said, his voice low, the words brushing your lips as he spoke. You knew what he wanted, and the sight of his eyes darkening only confirmed it. You tried to push your free hand against his chest, a feeble attempt to put some distance between you.

But he didn’t stop. His mouth crashed against yours, the kiss hard, demanding, and it caught you off guard, sending a shockwave through your body. You gasped against his lips, your hands instinctively pressing against his chest, glass of whiskey and all, trying to push him away. But he was relentless, his hand snaking around your waist and pulling you closer, his lips moving against yours with a desperation that made your knees weak. 

“Cassian, don’t,” you managed to get out between breaths, your hands pushing harder against his chest. For a moment, he hesitated, his grip loosening just enough for you to break the kiss and pull back slightly, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts. 

“I–” you started again, but the words felt useless now. He was looking at you with such intensity, his chest rising and falling with the same ragged breaths, and for a second, you could see the raw pain behind his anger. He was hurting — just as much as you were, likely more. And in that moment, you realized that talking wasn’t going to fix this. Words wouldn’t heal the damage you’d done. But you would still try, damn it. 

Cassian’s eyes flicked down to your lips, and before you could think, his mouth was on you again. This time, it was slower, deeper, but still full of that same bitterness, that same unresolved anger. His hands moved down your body, gripping your hips as he backed you against the door. Your mind screamed at you to stop, to push him away, to try to make him talk. But his touch, his toned muscles pressing against you, it all clouded your thoughts until the only thing left was him. 

You could feel his frustration in every movement, in the way his lips pressed harder against yours, in the way his hands gripped you like he was afraid you’d slip away. And maybe that was what this was — a way to hold on to something that had already slipped through his fingers. 

He broke the kiss for just a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breath heavy. “Tell me to stop,” he muttered, his voice rough and ragged. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Because even though your mind was screaming at you to stop this, to pull back and speak on the situation like adults, your body — your body and heart — they’d already made their decision. 

Instead of answering, you kissed him again, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as you pulled him closer. The whiskey glass slipped from your grip, landing with a heavy thud as the amber liquid pooled across the hardwood floor. Surprisingly, the glass hadn’t shattered. He responded immediately, his hands sliding under your shirt, his touch sending a rush of heat through you that made your head spin. His fingers gripped your skin, nothing gentle about it. His mouth was on yours again, hard and demanding, and any attempt at control you had slipped further with each frantic kiss. 

His fingers dug back into your hips, and he pulled you toward him. You tried to catch your breath, but Cassian didn’t give you the chance. His hand slipped between your legs, pressing roughly against the front of your jeans, the friction sending a jolt of sensation through your body that made you gasp. 

“Cass–” you started, but the words died on your lips as his fingers worked your button open with a quick, practiced motion. The next thing you knew, his hand was inside, sliding past the fabric of your underwear. His fingers found you immediately, slipping through your wetness with a precision that had your back arching involuntarily. But this wasn’t the way he used to touch you — not with the slow, teasing strokes meant to drive you crazy. This was something else, something far more aggressive. 

“Missed me?” Cassian rasped against your neck, his breath hot and ragged. “Missed this?”

Two of his fingers plunged inside you without warning,  stretching you, moving in fast, unforgiving strokes. You let out a choked gasp, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders as he fingered you hard, each thrust of his fingers sending shockwaves through you. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was as if he was trying to remind you — this is mine. You were mine. 

“Fuck,” he growled against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. “Bet you’ve been dreaming about this, huh? How easy you’d fall right back into it.” His fingers pumped inside you, deeper, harder, each movement making it clear that this was about more than making you feel good. This was something he needed. 

With a whimper, your head fell back against the door, your mind spinning with the sensation, the way his fingers curled inside you, hitting that spot that made your legs tremble. It was so much, so fast. The push and pull between your desire and the way he was handling you was dizzying. His other hand tangled in your hair, tugging your head back to expose your throat to his lips.

“Did you think of me while you let them fuck you?” he hissed, voice dripping with venom as his palm pressed roughly against your clit. “Did you miss my fingers when you spread your legs for them?”

You moaned despite yourself, the push and pull of your desire and guilt twisting inside you. He bit down on the tender skin of your neck, his fingers still driving into you with that relentless pace. “Cass, please…” You barely managed to choke the words out, your body reacting to the brutal pace of his fingers even as your mind struggled to keep up. 

“Please what?” he mocked, his voice low and full of heat. “Please, Cassian? Please don’t stop, Cassian? I’m desperate for something to fill my pathetic fucking hole, Cassian? You want more, don’t you?”

Before you could answer, Cassian pulled his hand back abruptly, removing his fingers from you with a sharpness that left you gasping, your legs unsteady. 

“Open your mouth,” he growled, and you did without thinking, instinct taking over. He pressed his fingers down against your tongue, and you almost gagged at the sudden pressure. You tasted yourself on them, sucked them clean, never breaking eye contact. 

“That’s it,” he said, his voice cold as he watched you. “You take it so well.”

He pulled his fingers from your lips and was already moving. His hand gripped the back of your neck, guiding you downward, pushing you to your knees in front of him. You blinked up at him, breathless, the weight of what was happening sinking in. But the look in his eyes, the intensity, the fury… it left you speechless. 

Cassian wasted no time. He tugged at his belt, yanking his pants down just enough to free himself. “Take that shit off,” he muttered, nodding toward your shirt and bra. “You wanna make it up to me, right?” he said, his voice rough. “Go ahead. Show me. Let me feel how sorry you are.”

Before you could brace yourself, his hand was in your hair, and he was guiding his cock past your lips. He was thick and hard, and the taste of him was almost sweet as he pushed himself deeper into your mouth, his hips jerking forward with a force that made your eyes water. 

“Take it,” he growled, holding you in place as he thrust into your mouth, the motion brutal. “Of course you’d take it so easily, so sweetly. Look at you. Look at those perfect fucking tits.”

You tried to adjust to the sensation, to put on a show for him as you played with your breasts, massaging and pinching and squeezing. His hand tightened in your hair, holding your head still as he fucked your mouth with a punishing rhythm. His breathing grew heavier, each thrust more forceful than the last.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head tipping back slightly as he buried himself deeper, the sound of your gagging making his cock twitch against your throat. “You’ve always been so fucking good at this, goddamn.” His hips kept moving, faster, harder, his grip unrelenting as he used you.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, your jaw aching as he pushed you to the limit, fucking your face like it was the only thing that mattered. And maybe right now, it was. You could feel the anger still simmering beneath the surface, the way his need for control dominated every movement. And even though you knew this wasn’t how tonight should have gone, the heat building in your gut betrayed you. 

Finally, with one last thrust, he pulled back, his breathing heavy and labored as he looked down at you. You gasped for air, wiping at your mouth, your body trembling. Without a word, Cassian lifted you to your feet, his hands rough and commanding. He pushed you toward the couch, and you landed with a quiet “oomph,” your body barely having time to register what was happening before his hands were on you again. 

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmured as he pulled your jeans and underwear down with quick, rough motions, leaving your heat bare and exposed to him. You could hear him behind you, kicking his own jeans off, and feel the heat of his body as he lined himself up. Your heart pounded in your chest, your mind reeling with the intensity of it all. “Tell me you don’t need this.”

You opened your mouth to respond, to say anything, but all that came out was a shaky gasp as he slammed himself into you, filling you in one hard thrust. You cried out, your hands scrambling to brace yourself against the back of the couch as he started moving immediately, his pace brutal and unforgiving.

“That’s right,” he snarled, his grip on your hips bruising as he thrust into you with a force that made your legs shake. “You take it so well. Just like always.” There was nothing soft about it, each thrust slammed you into the couch, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room as Cassian fucked you harder, faster, the anger pouring out of him in every movement.  This wasn’t love or tenderness. This was raw, angry, and so intense it left you gasping for air.

“Did any of them fuck you like this? Did Eris fuck you like this?” he growled, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned over you, his hips never slowing. “Did you take him as sweetly as you’re taking me? Were you this pretty for him, this complacent?”

“Cass, please…” you cried out. Was that all you could think to say to him?

“Don’t act like you don’t want this,” he bit out, his fingers digging into your skin. “I know you. You’re mine. You always have been, and you always will be.”

His words cut through you, the intensity, the fury in his voice mixing with the pleasure that had your body on the edge of unraveling. And despite everything, despite the pain, the anger, the confusion — you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t stop the way your body responded to him, the way the pleasure kept building, threatening to spill over.

“You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?” he muttered, still fucking into you with no sign of slowing down. “Of course you are. You can’t help yourself. Not with me. You never could.”

His grip tightened, his movements steady as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You couldn’t help but chase that high, pushing your hips back against his, responding to every brutal thrust, every mocking word. 

“Come for me,” he growled. “Come on.”

And with that, your body shattered, the pleasure crashing over you in waves as you came, your mind going blank, your legs shaking beneath you. Cassian yanked his shirt over his head, tossing it to the ground, but he never slowed his pace, and his cock was still buried deep inside you. He didn’t stop. If anything, the pace he set before only grew more intense at the feel of your muscles contracting around him. The pressure of his hips slamming into yours, the harsh grip of his hands, it was all too much, and yet… not enough.

“You think I’m done with you?” His voice was a low, dark rumble against your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “You’re not getting off that easy.”

Before you could protest, he leaned his body over yours and snaked his arm to your front, finding your clit with practiced precision. You gasped, your body jerking in response, your oversensitive nerves already on the edge of snapping again. He wasn’t giving you a chance to recover, wasn’t letting you escape the relentless pace he set. 

“Did Rhysand fuck you like this?” he snarled, his fingers circling your clit faster now, drawing another moan from deep within you. “Did he make you scream? Bet he didn’t make you come this hard, did he?”

You tried to shake your head, tried to speak, but Cassian clamped a hand over your mouth, straightening up as he used his grip to drive you back onto his cock again and again. Each thrust hit that spot deep inside you, leaving you dizzy and breathless. You could barely think, let alone find the words. 

“No answer?” he mocked, his voice rough and dripping with arrogance. “Figures. I bet you happily spread your legs for him, just hoping he’d fuck you half as good as I do.”

You whimpered, your legs trembling beneath you as the pleasure built again, unable to do anything but take the fucking he gave you. His fingers pressed harder against your clit, rubbing in tight circles as he thrust into you with bruising force. You knew you’d be unbelievably sore in the morning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when you felt yourself spiraling, hurtling toward release once more, and there was nothing to be done to stop it. 

“You’re going to come again, aren’t you? Y’know how I can tell?” he muttered darkly, leaning in closer. “I know your pussy. I know when it feels good, I know when it wants to be stuffed full of cock. I know when it wants to come just by how it squeezes my fucking dick.”

You cried out, the overwhelming sensation of him pounding into you, his fingers merciless on your clit, pushing you closer and closer. His hand over your mouth did next to nothing to muffle the depraved sounds escaping you. 

“Fuck, yeah, just like that,” he grunted. “I want you to come for me. I want you to scream my name while you come on my cock.”

And you did. He moved his hand just as your orgasm ripped through you, his name spilling from your lips again and again. Every muscle in your body went taut, the intensity making you convulse. You would have collapsed if he weren’t holding you so tightly, his grip bruising, keeping you upright as he rode you through your second orgasm.

But he still wasn’t done.

He pulled out of you abruptly, leaving you feeling empty and aching despite having finished twice. You blush, embarrassed at the thought. You barely had a moment to catch your breath before he spun you around, his eyes dark and wild with hunger as he looked down at you. “Get on your knees.”

You clambered off the couch and dropped to your knees for him again, your body and mind too overwhelmed to do anything but obey. Cassian stood over you, his chest heaving, his cock still rock-hard and slick with your arousal. He grabbed your hair, pulling your head back as he shoved himself back into your mouth. 

“Did Azriel fuck your throat like this?” he demanded, thrusting into your mouth with a brutal rhythm that had you gagging, tears streaming down your cheeks this time. “Did he make you choke on it? Bet he didn’t. Bet you let him take you nice and slow.”

You thought back to that day, to how Azriel had asked you if Cassian was too gentle while he fucked you stupid. But you couldn’t think about it for very long. Cassian slapped your cheek just a little harder than necessary, his cock still down your throat. “No one makes you choke like I do, huh?” he groaned, his cock twitching against your throat. “Not Tarquin, not Helion, and definitely not fucking Eris.”

He pulled out then, leaving you coughing and gasping for air as he turned you around and shoved you to the ground. “This is what you need,” he panted, driving into you with unmatched force, your cheek brushing against the plush area rug. “I bet Helion and Tarquin didn’t give it to you like this.” He leaned over you, his breath hot against your ear as he growled, “Did Helion make you beg for it? Did Tarquin fuck you hard enough to make you scream like this?”

You moaned, the pleasure building up again, your body responding to every brutal thrust, every filthy word that left his lips. 

“Of course not,” Cassian sneered. “He couldn’t. None of them can. Not. Like. Me.” He punctuated the words with particularly deep thrusts that had you trying to pull your hips away from him. A fruitless effort, his hands yanking you back with a laugh. 

His fingers found your clit again, rubbing in tight, small circles that had you gasping, your body on the verge of breaking for a third time. You were shaking, face against the rug, unable to hold yourself up anymore. 

“Come again,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. “I’m not stopping until you do, so fucking hurry up.”

You felt yourself unraveling, the pleasure too intense, too overwhelming. His name tumbled from your lips again, followed by an incoherent string of curses as you teetered on the edge. 

“That’s it,” he growled, his grip on you tightening as his rhythm finally began to falter. “Come for me. Let me hear you scream.”

And scream you did. The pleasure ripped through you, your body shuddering violently as you came again, your vision going white, your mind completely blank. Cassian followed soon after, his own release tearing through him as he groaned, spilling inside you with one final, brutal thrust. 

“Tell me,” he whispered roughly as he pulled out of you, turning you onto your back so he could look down at you. “Tell me if Eris made you come like that. Did he fuck you like I just did?”

You shook your head weakly, your body too spent to do anything but breathe, your legs still shaking from the intensity of it all. 

Cassian stood up, already pulling on his boxer briefs and jeans with calm efficiency, as if nothing had happened. You lay there for a moment, trembling, your mind still foggy. Slowly, you fumbled for your clothes, pulling them back on in silence, your body aching and spent. 

As you zipped up your jeans, still breathless and shaken, you looked over at him. He was slipping his shirt back on, the casualness of his movements making your stomach twist. 

“Cass… what are you doing?” you asked, your voice shaky, confused. “I thought we–”

He cut you off coldly. “I told you,” he said, pulling his shirt down over himself. “I didn’t ask you to come over here to talk. I’m heading out, but you can stay here tonight.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in, making your heart clench. Your hands trembled as you adjusted your shirt, a gnawing dread already settling deep in your gut. 

Cassian zipped up his jeans, then leaned down, his voice soft but biting. “No one will ever fuck you the way I do,” he said, voice full of an almost cruel satisfaction. “You’ll spend the rest of your life chasing this. Chasing me.” 

As you straightened up, zipping your own jeans, Cassian continued. “No one else will ever be enough,” he said, “and you’ll have to live with that.”

You swallowed hard, your hands shaking as you adjusted your shirt. When you looked up, you saw him halfway to the door, fully dressed now. But he turned back, a glint of cruel amusement in his eyes. “Oh,” he added casually, like an afterthought. Like his next words wouldn’t hit you like a punch to the gut, like a knife twisted deep into your chest. “You’ll also have to live with knowing that you sucked me off after I fucked Elain raw. Right here. On this couch. She left right before you got here.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

@blessthepizzaman @book-obsessed124 @celear @girl-math-aint-mathing @halo-hanging

@julesvanslutta @lilah-asteria @meeperthejeeper @mellowmusings @paleidiot

@secretlyhers @starlightazriel @scarsandallaz @uncxmfxrtablex @xxemmarldxx

[physics-of-one-piece]

How heavy are Corazon's and Doflamingo's coats?

Oooh, this is a great question! Thank you for this ask! This will be a long answer, since I need to tackle some body measurements for this, so... Yeh!

I'll go with the logic that the feathers are flamingo feathers, Doflamingo's from pink flamingos, and Cora's from black feather flamingos or myb they're dyed black, who knows. First, size!

The coats are all the way down to their feet, a few inches above ground. Let's give it 10 cm above ground. Let's put Cora's to be 2.83 meters in length. And Doflamingo's 2.95 meters in length.

Those coats are huge, and fully made of feathers both inside and outside it The only problem is are the feathers the small ones or the large ones? I'll say both, since some are pretty noticeable on the outline, especially at the collar, and even climb above Doffy's head, though that's because he puts the coat on his shoulders.

About Flamingo Feathers

Flamingo feathers range from 10-15cm in length and 2-4cm in width. They're larger than most bird feathers. Each feather can cover an area of 20-60cm² (0.002m²-0.006m²). This will be important later.

DQ Brothers Chest Width

Okay, that out of the way, we need width of the coats now, for that we need chest width and chest circumference (because the coats need to be WIDER than chest circumference) DQ bros... OFF WITH YOUR SHIRTS SO PHYSICS CAN MEASURE YOU!

Fuck yes, this is the best day ever. I should have became a stylist. If after this, nobody writes Doffy x Reader x Corazon where Reader has to take measurements of the DQ brothers bodies to make their clothes/coats, then I have failed in my endeavours.

The chest width is 1/3 or 1/4th of a height. So, with that in mind... We'll put 1/3rd:

Doffy:

3/3= 1, so 1 meter

3/4= 0.75 meter

So his chest is 0.75-1 meter wide. Mmmm. (Incoherent noises) I like taking measurements very much. Thank you, One Piece gods. Let's put Doffy's to be... The maximum. He's quite wide. 🫣

Doffy Chest Width = 1 meter

With that we measure chest circumference. Chest circumference is typically 1.5 times the chest width. Therefore!

Doffy's Chest Circumference: 1 × 1.5 = 1.5 meters

Corazon's Chest Width = 0.97 m

Corazon’s Chest Circumference = 1.46 m

Now, I want everyone to pull out their rulers. Spread those babies out to 1 m width. And lie on them. That's how big they are. That's how small you are when you lay atop their torso/chest. YOU WELCOME.

Corazon's Feather Coat

Cora is 2.93 m. His arms are half that length each. So that gives us... 1.46 meters for sleeves (which are not part of the circumference, but are important for area).

First, we need an area of the body of the coat.

The DQ brothers' bodies are wide even if they do look lean they look lean because they're 3 fckn meters tall. The 1 meter circumference usually used for loose coats is inaccurate. The coat is WIDER than the DQ brothers, it flares out, like wings.

Okay, we add FLARE. That's 20%.

Width (of Rosinante's coat)

0.97 + (0.20×0.97) = 0.97 + 0.194 = 1.16 m (I don't like this result bcs in the manga there is a lot of the coat on each side, so we'll round it to be 1.2 m instead, prob needed more flare, so 60cm of the coat on each side should be good for Rosi. Those coats are meant to be big, they're meant to INTIMIDATE. Can't intimidate SHIT with only 10 cm of the coat on each side.)

Width (of Rosinante's coat) = 1.2 m

Circumference (of Rosinante's Coat)

Chest Circumference + (0.20× Chest Circum)

1.46 + (0.20 × 1.46) = 1.75 m

Circumference of Rosi's Coat = 1.75 m

And now, with the circumference of his coat, we can now get the AREA of his coat. Remember how I mentioned the length of Rosi's arms? Well, we need that for the length of his sleeves + the area of his sleeves. First, coat body.

Rosi's Coat Body

Circumference of Rosi's Coat = 1.75 m

Length of Coat = 2.83 m

Surface Area of Body = length × circumference × 2 = 2.83 × 1.75 × 2 = 9.905 m²

Yaay, we got the coat body area. Now for speeves

Rosi's Sleeves Area

Gotta be honest, I used my armchair's armrest width for this bcs I think it fits. The width of Rosi's arm is 20 cm up top. The circumference is then 0.6 m. We put that into the area formula:

Area of Sleeve = length of sleeve × circumference = 1.46 × 0.6 = 0.876 m²

For both sleeves

Both Sleeves = 2× 0.876m²= 1.75 m²

We add that to the body area...

Rosi's Coat Area = 9.90 + 1.75 = 11.65 m²

Number of Feathers on Rosi’s Coat

We'll use the big black flamingo feathers. Before anyone assaults these two for animal abuse, a flamingo has 10,000-50,000 feathers. Average feather coats have about 2,000 feathers used depending on the feather. Could I have just said Doffy & Rosi have that amount of feathers — 10,000? Yes. Would that be lazy of me? Yes. Also, flamingos have black flight feathers hidden on the underside of their wings, so that's where the feathers for Rosinante's coat came from, most likely! So, you can say Rosinante is the thing that keeps Doflamingo flying. (I'm fine, I'm fine. 😭) Remember how I said the feathers take up 0.002m²? Well... We did all these to get this simple calculation.

Surface Area/Area Feathers Cover = Feather Count

11.65/0.002 = 5,825 feathers

And now the simplest calculation of all. The underside black feathers are actually a bit heavier than the pink feathers. We'll do that they weigh 0.17 grams.

5,825 × 0.17 = 990 grams

Weight of Rosinante's Coat = 0.99 kilograms

This is considered a heavyweight feather coat. So it is heavy. Fur is much more heavier. Feathers are light as FUCK. And theirs are full feather coats from both sides, it seems to me. They could have some insulation so myb that adds a kilogram. Otherwise, this. Now, onto Doflamingo.

Doflamingo's Feather Coat

Width of Doffy's Coat

1 + (0.20 × 1) = 1 + 0.20 = 1. 20 m (we're gonna put this one to be 1.60 m wide instead with more flare, so each side not covered by Doffy's body is 80 cm)

Width = 1.60 m

Circumference of Doffy's Coat

1.5 + (0.20 × 1.5) = 1.8 m

Circumference of Doffy's Coat = 1.8 m

Doflamingo's Coat Body

Surface Area of Body = 2.95 × 1.8 × 2 = 10.62 m²

Doflamingo's Sleeves Area

Area of Sleeve = 1.5 × 0.6 = 0.9m²

Both Sleeves = 2 × 0.9 = 1.8 m²

Add that:

Full Area of Doffy's Coat = 10.62 + 1.8 = 12.42 m²

Number of Feathers

12.42/0.002 = 6,210

Weight of Doflamingo's Coat

Doflamingo has normal flamingo feathers, which weigh 0.1 grams, so his coat is actually LIGHTER than Corazon's even though he has more feathers. Sorta like the weight of the world, eh? Cora carried the weight of being a spy on his shoulders, while Doflamingo has a sorta carefree nature when after becoming a warlord.

6,210 × 0.10 = 621 grams

Weight of Doflamingo's Coat = 0.62 kg

And... (Panting) Done. Makes you wonder why the fuck Doffy's neck is that forward, then, when his coat isn't that heavy? Honestly, I always thought it was like 5kg weight myself which explains his terrible posture, so actually researching all this has been surprising. He just... He just walks like that. And has that stature. Bcs he... Just has that posture. You have to know, once becoming warlord, Doflamingo is very lax and acts quite carefree. In North Blue, he was full businessman even by posture - very straight-backed. Just compare his entrance on Minion Island to entrance on Punk Hazard. He's frowning on Minion Island, but is smiling in Punk Hazard - malicious as it is. He has the lax posture as a warlord because he's confident and genuine confidence makes you relax. That means shoulders, neck, back, they all slump. Sure, he's ready to attack anytime, his muscles definitely tense when he is ready for attacking. But still.

Oda probably wanted to go full symbolism with Doflamingo being as a flamingo so he gave him that craned forward neck like a flamingo's, and the back posture makes him seem like he is prowling toward you, like a lion. Since all the warlords are animal inspired and have the themes to match with their animal name, it's no wonder Oda chose to show it with Doflamingo's posture - even his legs are LONG as fuck! Doflamingo is all grandeur and is of the most rare bloodline and a flamingo is a very grandeurish bird considered royalty among bird species.

Doflamingo, why is your shirt still off?

Anyway, that's... (Panting) It. Nice calculations. Thank you for the great question, @dummyduck44! ❤️

Taglist: @fanaticsnail

[apocalypse-shuffle]

AGATHA HARKNESS (mcu | agatha all along)

—

“A Witch’s Bargain” (Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader) and (mentioned Rio Vidal x Fem!Reader)

| Once you find out a witch as infamous and powerful as Agatha is seeking you out you decide to go to her before she can pull one over on you; an attempt was made.

| SFW, obeah, flirting, hints at immortality, reader has something going on with both Agatha and Rio, -caribbean!reader & witch!reader

| pic source: Agatha All Along (2024)

| Note, the Reader-Insert is speaking with an accent but I didn’t write the particulars of it down bcs that would’ve been a lot to parse through even for me. Also, happy less-than-forty days till Halloween!

| 2k+ words

“Oh my,” you drawl, leant back against a large tree near Westview’s local psychic shop and nearly lost in its shadow, “this is…underwhelming.”

A whopping three people — only two witches, one of which was currently powerless — pause in front of you on the sidewalk, your words ringing even truer at the way the boy amongst them jumps at your abrupt entrance.

Lips pursed, you look him up and down with little favor. If this was to be the makings of Agatha Harkness’s “great coven” the pickings truly must’ve been slim.

The very witch you came to see turns to you, her hair falling into her face with the movement like she’s in some big brand shampoo commercial. Without another word, you watch on with an opposing stillness, your heart remaining steady.

Interesting.

For a woman you’d all thought dead Agatha looked well. Hair not clumpy, skin not worn or leathery. Even the way she held herself still bellied her comfort in mysticism, even dressed like a modern day woman as she was.

“Mm,” she hums shortly, turning in place with a few unhurried steps until she can cast narrowed eyes onto her apparent newest tag-along. Matching her stare head on you lean into the sun’s light a little more, your own thick curls brushing across a few low hanging branches where your hair is wrapped in cloth atop your head. “I don’t recall asking for an Obeah Woman,” she announces, tone bitingly light.

A scoff falls past your lips.

“And I didn’t expect the whispers for a coven would lead me to you, like this,” you twitch, letting your smile spread your plush lips thin, “broken and without your gifts.”

“I wouldn’t test me, New Girl,” she parries, and you hold your palms up in surrender.

Though your expression doesn’t sober.

The smile that rises to match your own in response to that is lopsided and sharp. Years worth of condescension she’d grown too used to falling back on without caution due to the magic coursing through her coming to the surface.

Agatha Harkness’s name in whispers had sent you into a fit at first — a witch of her caliber and age with your name on her mind never meant good — but looking at her now you could only tilt your head.

On the other hand, the boy with her seems eager to shake apart with laughter that grinds upon your nerves. Luckily, one look from the Salem veteran keeps him quiet.

Mostly.

In seconds she too is cackling, however — the boy’s muffled laughter acting as background noise — and you don’t bother stopping your sneer then.

“Oh, I see. You think you're hot shit,” she draws out, voice dropping an octave. “Don’t you operate a failing apothecary out of your apartment?”

Lips flattening, you step from the shadow, your face fixed without obvious malice to the best of your ability.

“It’s a side hustle,” you sniff. “And still better than being sentenced to 100 lashes and persecuted by the Danish; if I ever see the inside of a Christianshavn prison again I’ll frig up more than a few rum distilleries.”

“Of course. Now you just get persecuted by American Authority instead,” she says, the cut of her mouth sly.

With a flourish you wave her off. “Wretched as your worry is, it’s unneeded. Poison is no different than an elixir when you make it backwards.”

“Okay,” she simpers, shrugging herself, voice light and eyes never straying from your form as you glide closer over the concrete.

Powerless or not, something beneficial could surely come of making the occasional acquaintance of such a renowned woman.

Movement in your peripherals catches your attention though, and you stop moving to turn your head to find who you can only assume is the cause of your blight today.

Your sneer situates itself right back over your lips.

“Lilia,” you announce, the woman stops in her tracks and cuts you a brazen look out of the corner of her eyes. You take caution to only let your molars grind together for a second, releasing the tension in increments as your gaze narrows on her and you stand taller. “I should cut you down where you stand.”

The psychic huffs, shawl sliding a bit down the slope of her shoulder.

Slowly pulling the covering back into place she tuts at you, “Or…you could not. I mean, let’s face it, you would’ve been drawn here regardless of if I gave Agatha your name.”

“Unlikely,” you snap, words ground out like you’d rather spit on her than keep to something so civil as using mere words to express yourself.

And you would if you weren’t in such mixed company. Lilia was only meek when she was playing some angle after all.

You didn’t like anyone else making your moves for you, forcing you to speed up your timeline. Your own plans be damned.

“Witches, witches!” Agatha cuts in, holding her hands out to keep you and the psychic apart despite the way she’s only looking your way. “Let’s not tear each other apart just yet, hm?”

She eyes you from head to toe, taking her time to pan down as she takes in your flowing clothing and lightly clacking beads, before giving you a wicked look. “We wouldn’t want to mar anything too pristine before things really get interesting, now would we?”

Knocking your gaze to Lilia for a second you clock how she initially meets your glower, but keep your gaze steady regardless, just up until she finally twitches in discomfort. Only then do you ease up, tossing a grimace of a smile her way, before watching Agatha closely once more as the psychic wanders off somewhere out of sight with a few muttered curses you pay no mind to.

Meanwhile, Agatha’s expression has changed, having lost its begrudging appraisal and turned furrowed.

You raise your brows, “Harkness?”

She squints, obscuring fine cut hazel.

“I know you, don’t I?”

“Ah,” you grin without teeth, shoulders shaking, “so you can’t tell your porridge from your oats either I see.”

She rolls her eyes.

“The ‘wise sage’ sage act is very annoying, I have to tell you. It’s really ruining an otherwise beautiful package and I think you should work on that.”

“Should I?”

“That’s what I just said.”

“Oh, alright,” you examine your bare nails, twisting your wrist this way and that to get a ‘better’ view of your cuticles, “you’ll have to put the request in with my secretary first, though, I fear.”

Agatha’s pet’s head pops up from over her shoulder, his face screwed up, “You have a secretary? …No offense.”

Sighing, you drop your hand back to your side and make a point of rolling your eyes hard enough to nearly make yourself dizzy.

“No. I don’t,” you tell him finally, though you don’t look away from the actual witch in front of you even as you do.

Immediately after you raise your brow at Agatha, however, “As for you, you know full well that I’m better than any sage, and that passing me up would be a waste when you need a potion maker. Regardless, no we haven’t met, but your backside is just as unpleasant as people describe.”

“Hm,” she hums in agreement, moving to toss her round brunette curls around to her back with a wink in your direction, “unpleasantly beautiful, you might say.”

“Worthless more like it,” you correct.

Agatha stops putting on her little show so quickly you might as well have just lashed her across the face.

Briefly, her eye spasms, “Watch it.”

“I might,” you say, “so long as you prove me wrong. Now, if we could get back on track.”

“Huh,” she scoffs, glaring at you now. “Fine. How bout’ this, unless you can make an elixir to make me invincible from every witch closing in on me, then scram. I’m dealing with enough ameatures as is.”

Head thrown back for a second, you laugh, letting your fervor echo throughout Lilia’s forever vacant parking lot.

“Oh, make no mistake, Harkness, I can do that...” you say eventually, voice easy in a way that gives the other woman pause. You jerk a brow up, briefly mirroring the way her interest seems to physically jump up to stare at you, “…for a price.”

Gaze finally brightening she moves to knock her male companion on the shoulder, gesturing your way afterwards before plastering a much “nicer” smile on her face.

“Teen’s got the money. Give the woman whatever she wants, come on.”

“Oh no, I don’t want money,” you cut in with a flick of your hand at the grabble she’s making for the boy’s wallet.

Agatha pauses in the middle of silently arguing with Teen, glancing your way from her slightly bent position.

“—You don’t?”

“I might not call myself a witch, but that in no way means I’m confused as to what you witch them does do.” You get closer to her, and how she straightens to meet your advance makes you preen. “I want a favor. A binding one.”

“As if,” the boy cuts in with, “A witch of her caliber doesn’t do binding spells, they’ll only hinder her.”

Oh my—

“You well fucking rude,” you say distastefully, giving him a harsh look. Irritatingly, his forward ass only lays his hand over his heart with a gasp.

For her part all Agatha does is laugh, knocking you lightly on the shoulder as if you’ve told a particularly funny joke, and taking you right out of your stare down. “You’re lucky you’re pretty, Dear. Cause you sure are delusional.”

She snorts.

You suck your teeth.

This back and forth routine was getting far more tiresome than you’d anticipated.

“The only lucky one here is you,” you deadpan.

She opens her mouth to respond, that same dismissal in the curve of her mouth, but then pauses. Expression twitching, she leans even closer to you to inhale.

Frowning, you pull your upper half away from her.

“What—?”

“—I should’ve known,” Agatha exclaims lowly, pointing her finger at you. “You reek of her psycho, that's why you seemed so familiar. What have you been dabbling in, I wonder, to smell so thoroughly of Rio? Joining her plot against me?”

You shake your head, looking away from her. You’d only hung around Vidal for the same reasons you were hanging around Agatha: to gain connections and, better still, favors you could cash in on if you ever found yourself in a bind due to your own ventures.

You hadn’t been lying earlier when you’d said you’d start making drastic moves if you saw the inside of a cell again, you didn’t care where it was. You’d burn it all down until they had to put you down before you’d waste away imprisoned ever again.

“Absolutely not. Whatever melee that went down between you two is yours alone. All I’m worrying about is my deal.”

To the displeasure of your heightening pulse, however, Agatha doesn’t just look passingly interested or even admiring any longer. She looks like she’s been given a puzzle, and like she likes it.

“Too late,” she chirps, fluttering her lashes, “Rio is far too picky about the company she keeps for your involvement to be left unexplored.”

Hand coming up, she runs her nails along your jaw. You stave off a flinch from the ticklish sensation her touch elicits. “You’ve played with too hot a fire, Darling, situating yourself in the middle of our fight,” Agatha finishes, clicking her tongue, before walking her digits back up the umber expanse of your skin to press the pads of them into the hinge of your jaw.

You swallow roughly, hope she can’t hear it.

Agatha smiles, pressing in until she can force you to meet her eyes again. They’re roving, almost manic when paired with her smile.

“Yes,” she breathes, eyes alight. “Maybe I do need an Obeah Woman after all. We’ll be going to the Witch’s Road, won’t you come with?”

No. It’s on the tip of your tongue. The feel of Rio’s blackened energy still a hot, sizzling brand across your lips.

One deal had been made already, yes, but were you sure about pursuing this one as well with the inevitability of getting caught in the middle of a centuries old rivalry so probable?

Unfortunately, your, “Fine,” slips past your lips before you can stop yourself, and rather than deal with the indignity of walking your agreement back you stay quiet.

Watching for her move. Reasoning with yourself that there were still benefits here despite this new hiccup, if only you played your cards right.

She doesn’t make you wait long.

A shiver rises over you as her presence does the same, her steps carrying her till there’s hardly a whisper between your bodies. Even without her magic, being this close to Agatha Harkness allowed her to snake herself across your soul same as Rio Vidal had when you’d also unintentionally peaked her curiosity a while back.

“Wonderful,” she coos, the pad of her thumb gliding up your cheekbone as her hazel bores deep into your brown, “let’s see about that deal then.”

Dammit to hell; this had better be worth whatever Agatha and Rio’s combined interest would do to you.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

Fun fact, actually, I wrote this when I’d only watched episode two up until Agatha and Teen left Lilia’s place, and so didn’t know that Jen (gorgeous as she is) would be who they went to for poisons (or that that was in any way a requirement in the first place) so that was a fun little coincidence. Otherwise, the setting of this oneshot I just pulled out of my ass fr.

Also, character motivations are a bit funky but I can’t pinpoint the exact reason and really want to post this tonight so we’ll all have to deal.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

—

Caribbean word of the day (i.e.,the glossary): “Frig” - an alternative way to say ‘fuck’. so ‘frig up’ = ‘fuck up’.

“Melee” - drama or gossip.

*remember, though, that dialects are regional so the words in this glossary aren’t used by every caribbean* 

EDITED: 9/26/24

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

I have no other place to yap this to so I apologise in advance.

I find it interesting in Alhaitham and Kaveh’s voicelines they tend to talk about each other A LOT in a way of complaining. Such as in Alhaitham’s Good night voiceline where he says that he’d prefer that Kaveh wouldn’t be home at all because all the chaos and noise he makes in the dead of the night. Or in Kaveh’s Good Morning voiceline where he says that he hopes that you don't run into someone who ruins your day first thing in the morning.

I guess it’s what makes other people think that they despise each other’s company. Yet they’re always viewed as a pair and Alhaitham could’ve kicked Kaveh out of the house ages ago. But what’s your opinion on that?

Hiya! there's no need to apologise, this is a safe space for all haikaveh! When I tell you your ask is scratching my brain I mean ITCHING, I have so many thoughts about this part of their dynamic so thank you for enabling me <3 This turned out to be rather long, so I hope it’s helpful to you!

The contention in both Alhaitham and Kaveh’s character stories and voice lines seems to be to create intrigue about the two as individuals, and, in turn, their relationship.

Alhaitham’s ‘good night’ voice line instantly serves as a contradiction to his character. It’s interesting, and telling, that Alhaitham, who is essentially Kaveh’s landlord, and mentions this within his fourth character story, alludes to Kaveh by using ‘roommate’ rather than ‘tenant’. ‘Landlord’ evokes a position of authority over the tenant, whereas ‘roommate’ indicates an equality between two people sharing a house – since it’s Alhaitham who advocates for the term ‘roommate’, it’s telling that, as opposed to what Kaveh believes, Alhaitham wants to establish equality between them.

In terms of what Alhaitham says in this voice line, it explicitly raises a contradiction in the form of a question: if Alhaitham is truly bothered by his roommate’s antics, why doesn’t he simply evict Kaveh?

This is relevant as this question is also posed when we initially meet Kaveh within the Archon Quest, as Kaveh states he dislikes Alhaitham’s personality, to which Alhaitham responds by saying if he bothers Kaveh so much, Kaveh always has the option to move out of the house – to which Kaveh perceives as a threat, only to then dismiss this as Alhaitham ‘changing the subject’, which seems to mean that this ‘threat’ is taken as baseless. As this isn’t called back to, this seems to be the case.

There is no real threat of eviction, and regardless of their disputes, Alhaitham ultimately gives Kaveh no ultimatum to move out. In fact, as discussed here (page 27), as we are meeting Alhaitham and Kaveh for the first time, Alhaitham allowing Kaveh to live with him contradicts his established character of living a life free of inconvenience. This instantly creates intrigue around his and Kaveh’s dynamic – who is Kaveh to Alhaitham for this exception to be made to Alhaitham’s peaceful way of life?

(An additional note of interest is that Alhaitham’s solution to the noise problem seems to be more uncomfortable than calling on Kaveh and telling him to stop his work. Alhaitham says that he’d rather not wear his noise-cancelling earpieces to bed, implying that he does so when noise is a problem at night. However, there’s no mention of Kaveh being stubborn when confronting this issue, which is why he takes to wearing his ear pieces, or any mention of confrontation at all. From this voice-line, it seems that Alhaitham avoids interaction by opting for the least comfortable option, which can be a contradiction to his character. As this is a rather brief voice-line, it’s difficult to ascertain why, but I like the idea that Kaveh is productive at night, and Alhaitham prefers not to impose on Kaveh’s work process – but this is more a headcanon than evidenced interpretation.)

Returning back to the contradiction within this voice-line, at a surface glance, this does appear to be a general complaint about Kaveh, and this can be found in Alhaitham’s lines about Kaveh, and also when discussing Tighnari. Alhaitham refers to Kaveh as ‘overly sensitive’, and ‘constantly making a fuss’.

These can easily read solely as complaints, but when looking to the original CN translation, another interpretation can be found here. Alhaitham describes Kaveh as ‘caring’ or ‘tender’, which is exactly how Kaveh is described within the 3.6 special program (as per minimushiroom on twt), which can allude to how Kaveh is considerate to a fault, in that this serves as a detriment to himself.

This can be seen in Alhaitham’s other Kaveh-centred voice-line, in which he describes Kaveh buying keychains in order to provide meals for sick children, even though healthcare is free in Sumeru. Alhaitham clearly holds the view that this was a redundant action, as Kaveh, being in debt, most likely doesn’t have the money to spend on such investments that are, evidently, dubious.

As Alhaitham provides a rational view here, this contrasts with Kaveh’s act of generosity fuelled by emotion – which highlights the contention Alhaitham has with Kaveh, in that Kaveh places himself in dangerous situations for the sake of others. However, as this can be perceived as a solely derisive line, this essential context is lacking, and can be easily misconstrued. (I think the EN translation here also coincides with this narrative, as minimushiroom notes that the original CN has Alhaitham refer to Kaveh’s sensitivity in a positive way, rather than contemptuously, as the English can be interpreted as.)

Kaveh, similarly, can be seen to complain about Alhaitham in his own voice-lines. This can be seen in the 'Good Morning' voice-line you've mentioned, where Kaveh complains about having to see Alhaitham in the morning, which 'ruins' his day. Additionally, Kaveh's voice-lines discussing Alhaitham refer to Alhaitham as ‘infuriating’ and not wanting to give Alhaitham the satisfaction of thanking him, despite Alhaitham helping him out. However, there is more nuance in these voice-lines than Kaveh simply ‘disliking’ Alhaitham, as this dislike is never stated - rather that he and Alhaitham have a difficult relationship in comparison to the ‘close’ friendship of their past.

Kaveh describes their relationship being a ‘mixed bag’, of both negatives and positives, as well as establishing a thorough understanding of Alhaitham, where other people may misinterpret Alhaitham as they ‘don’t know him well enough’. Additionally, Kaveh notes that he knows that Alhaitham can present himself in a more ‘likeable’ manner, but that Alhaitham refuses to do so, which refers to Kaveh’s contention with Alhaitham discussed within his character stories. This, in turn, generates curiosity, as it appears that Kaveh holds an in-depth knowledge of Alhaitham that the player isn’t privy to.

Referring back to Alhaitham’s ‘Good Night’ voiceline, the question raised is, if Alhaitham has a problem with Kaveh, why doesn’t he just evict Kaveh? And the answer can be found by digging further into Alhaitham’s character stories. Looking to Alhaitham’s fourth character story, it states that he is aware of the dissatisfaction Kaveh may have with their living arrangement but  that ‘it matters not to him’.

This means that he is aware that Kaveh may be unhappy with having to rely on someone else for a stable livelihood, something which his pride doesn’t naturally allow, but that this is also exacerbated due to their previous falling out and the current contentions Kaveh has with him.

At first, this can seem rather abrasive, which does fall in line with Alhaitham’s egoism as this doesn’t directly impact ‘the self’ (discussed further here), however, what immediately follows is Alhaitham’s belief that he and Kaveh are mirrors, in that his own perspective of the world will be enhanced - in the og CN, ‘completed’ -by Kaveh’s own world view.

The implication generated here with the explicit term ‘mirror’, is that, just as Alhaitham benefits from Kaveh, Kaveh, in turn, can benefit from Alhaitham. (As a side note, it is interesting then that the voice-lines in question can be seen to mirror each other – Kaveh mentions Alhaitham in ‘Good Morning’ whereas Alhaitham mentions Kaveh in ‘Good Night’.)

Returning back to Alhaitham’s character story, rather than merely reflecting each other philosophically speaking, I’d say that this also points to their respective progression as people, not just scholars.

To me, this is reminiscent of what Alhaitham says to Kaveh in A Parade of Providence – being ‘correct’, ultimately, doesn’t matter, as there is no ‘correct’ path in life, meaning that there is no ‘correct’ philosophy to shape and guide a person. Rather, Alhaitham asserts that, ultimately, their opposing philosophies are not the issue that exists between them.

The issue that does exist, then, can be surmised from Alhaitham’s actions during the event (discussed further here), in which he researches into Sachin to gauge his influence over Kaveh’s father journeying into the desert, with implicit hopes of providing closure for Kaveh, and potentially assuaging Kaveh’s guilt. This is a personal act with a personal motive; the underlying motive being concern, as opposed to an assertion of ‘correctness’.

In my opinion, I think Alhaitham’s actions during A Parade of Providence are a direct reference, and fulfilment, of Kaveh’s fifth character story. I’ve discussed here that the main reason for the ending of their friendship was them asserting the correctness of a philosophy over the other, and proposing one philosophy as the ‘solution’ to the other’s perceived flaws.

Here Alhaitham can be seen to use Kaveh’s past as the reason for his excessive altruism, implicitly referring to Kaveh’s guilt over being the supposed catalyst for his father’s demise. This final comment of Alhaitham’s appears to be the first time this has been mentioned between them, and it’s enough to be perceived as weaponisation – leading to Kaveh severing their friendship.

In A Parade of Providence, Alhaitham is shown to only have taken the role of commentator to research into Sachin, whose research we are told (by Kaveh), he has no explicit interest in, and it is heavily implied that the only reason he looked further into Sachin, was to prove to link between Sachin and Kaveh’s father. Alhaitham seems to want to absolve Kaveh of this past guilt in hopes that Kaveh will stop placing himself in the cycle of self-sabotage.

For me, when viewing this as a parallel, it highlights that Alhaitham’s motivation in speaking out during their days as students was out of concern for Kaveh, although while holding egoism as ultimately beneficial, and therefore perceivably ‘correct’. The ‘issue’ they’re currently debating is not expressly stated, and although it is unclear if Kaveh understands the implication (as discussed here), as ‘correctness’ has been overturned, there seems to be little left than the personal.

Relating this back to Alhaitham’s fourth character story, for me, Alhaitham referring to Kaveh as a mirror isn’t just referring to Kaveh as a scholar, but a person as a whole. As Alhaitham seeks to improve himself, personally, through Kaveh, it seems that he hopes to be able to benefit Kaveh in turn.

As for Kaveh’s complaints regarding Alhaitham, these can be contextualised within his own character stories. As Kaveh ultimately severed the friendship between him and Alhaitham, Alhaitham offering Kaveh to live with him, despite Kaveh revoking his previous understanding of Alhaitham (as discussed here, page 67), causes Kaveh to be overtly suspicious.

In Kaveh’s Old Sketchbook, it is mentioned that Kaveh believes there to be an ulterior motive for Alhaitham inviting him to share a house, as he believes that Alhaitham wouldn’t do something for someone else without an exchange.

Kaveh, then, openly distrusts Alhaitham due to this unspoken motive, and although he takes on chores to ease his sense of guilt of being a perceived burden, a contention arises here. Due to their previously ended friendship, and with how Alhaitham hurt Kaveh, and how Kaveh may believe he hurt Alhaitham (discussed here), Kaveh sees no reason for Alhaitham to want him around – he treats their relationship as an exchange, asking what Alhaitham could possibly want for him.

Although Alhaitham views Kaveh as a mirror, and therefore, respects Kaveh’s perspectives, Kaveh can potentially view their opposing philosophies as a negative rather than a positive as he had done in the past (as discussed here), as it, perceivably, was what led to the end of their friendship. In this, Kaveh views Alhaitham as disparaging him and his views. As mentioned in his character story, he has no reservations in telling Alhaitham of his debt as Alhaitham has already seen through him in the past, and yet again, upon meeting at the tavern.

Although Alhaitham perceivably views him unfavourably, and his comments and complaints appear to propagate this interpretation, Alhaitham also seems to have no issue with keeping Kaveh around, and interacting with Kaveh, regardless of the problems Kaveh expressly has with him.

To Kaveh, it could be that as Alhaitham has already seen the worst of him, and appears to have no real issue with their stilted rapport, there is no point in donning a front and using niceties. He is open with his issues with Alhaitham, and, in turn, Alhaitham is open with him.

This appears to be a dual negative and positive for Kaveh, as he describes Alhaitham’s constancy as ‘the most unshakable part of one's past is a friend that will never change’. In this sense, his unsteady rapport with Alhaitham is reliable, and therefore, has no reason to change.

Clearly, there is a large disconnect between Alhaitham’s view of Kaveh and how Kaveh perceives Alhaitham’s view of him. As previously mentioned in the discussion of A Parade of Providence, there is an unspoken ‘issue’ between them, and this can be interpreted as dire misconceptions borne from miscommunication.

As discussed, Kaveh and Alhaitham reference each other a lot in their respective voice-lines and their character stories. This alone is enough to connect them, regardless of the cruciality of their mirror motif, as they are key figures of each other’s past, present, and seemingly, future. Despite this, it’s as you say, there’s a common perception to view them as mutually disliking each other, and, to me, this is based upon their first initial interaction, and the way they refer to each other in their own character stories and voice-lines.

It’s notable that Alhaitham refers to Kaveh in his voice-lines when Kaveh is not explicitly relevant, such as in his Good Night voice-line, and, most interestingly, when Alhaitham discusses Tighnari.

This could be because Alhaitham knows of Tighnari through Kaveh, but as this connection isn’t stated, it reads as Alhaitham mentioning Kaveh for no other reason than to complain about his perceived naivety regarding relations with others. But as this is a voice-line designated to discussing Tighnari, it’s interesting, and incredibly noticeable, that Alhaitham then discusses Kaveh instead. It’s similar to what Kaveh can be seen to do, and is observed to do by others, in relation to discussing Alhaitham.

When it comes to Kaveh, however, his complaining of Alhaitham can be seen to link with his process of dealing with troubles in his work. In his Hangout, he states that he takes his work to heart because he cares about it, which is expressed in the same quest in which Kaveh and the Traveller run into Alhaitham in the House of Daena (discussed further here, page 219).

Drawing a parallel here can further contextualise Kaveh’s complaining of Alhaitham – if Kaveh truly disliked Alhaitham, there seems to be no reason for Alhaitham to remain so relevant to him, both in conversation, and in private thought. Additionally, Kaveh is described as an empathetic person, and when dealing with others, he is thusly seen to look for another perspective rather than act on his own subjective perspective.

Looking at his voice-line on Dori, for example, expresses his distaste for Dori pressuring him for Mora due to his debt, however, he also empathises with her, and states that he senses there must be a reason why Dori acts in such a way.

In contrast, this empathy can be perceived as missing in his treatment of Alhaitham, and therefore Kaveh complaining about Alhaitham can be perceived as blatant dislike – which contradicts Kaveh’s benevolence and empathy, which A Parade of Providence particularly stresses.

Kaveh’s treatment of Alhaitham can be seen as deliberately contradictory, as it can cause the player to question why Kaveh reacts in such a singular way to Alhaitham, just as why Alhaitham reacts in a singular way to Kaveh.

In reference to Alhaitham, whilst Alhaitham tends to complain about Kaveh in turn, his actions reveal him. He invites Kaveh to live with him, gives no eviction date, pays for Kaveh’s tabs willingly, (supposedly) buys wine as an apology, and goes out of his way to ensure dialogue with Kaveh – which contradicts his own character stories, in which he appears to favour solitude, and only greets those he considers his friends ‘with a nod or two’.

Moreover, Alhaitham is established as considering Kaveh a necessity to his ‘peaceful life’ he seeks to maintain (as discussed here), and can be seen to implicitly consider Kaveh one of his priorities within his Story Quest.

The idea that Alhaitham dislikes Kaveh seems to stem from Alhaitham being taken literally when voicing an opinion, or an issue, or simply joking, in reference to Kaveh – despite his character stories highlighting that Alhaitham often uses sarcasm in order to subvert expectations.

Alhaitham expressly states that he prefers to be seen as inscrutable, and unknown, by the general public, and uses subversion as a means to do so. In these character stories, Alhaitham openly encourages speculation of his own words.

Without this context, it seems easy to simplify Alhaitham to purely speaking factually when first addressing Kaveh in the Archon Quest – stating that having to explain things to Kaveh is ‘a nuisance’, and yet, it is overlooked that Alhaitham stays in the House of Daena, regardless, knowing Kaveh would find him again.

On the whole, in my opinion, Kaveh’s feelings towards Alhaitham cannot be simplified to ‘dislike’ as this is dually an inherent misunderstanding of his character, and of his and Alhaitham’s relationship, just as Alhaitham’s feelings towards Kaveh cannot be simplified to ‘dislike’ for this same reason.

In the beginning, Alhaitham and Kaveh are not supposed to be perceived as friendly, as Kaveh denies the association of ‘friends’, and Paimon describes them to the Traveller as ‘problematic’.

The reason for this is due to their character arcs being intertwined – the core issue is posed in Kaveh’s fifth character story, in that the question is raised if a compromise can be reached, if both sides of the mirror, can be balanced. At the beginning, they are entirely at odds, but even footing must be found.

I’ve noticed a shift in online discourse after Cyno’s second story quest, as the progression in Alhaitham and Kaveh’s relationship is noticeable – deliberately, due to the flashback scene within their house (which I’ve discussed in detail here, page 122). To me, it’s more common to form the assumption that Alhaitham and Kaveh dislike each other in the Archon Quest, but with recent developments, and, hopefully, future ones, this perception is being overturned in online communities. Perhaps that’s just wishful thinking, but I’m still hopeful!

[duskier]

Invisible man but it's toxic Ghoap x reader ...

cw: this is literally just ghoap mentally torturing reader and there are mentions of them intending to kill the reader 🫶

Them having access to fictional sounding levels of military technology and getting two suits of their own that allow them to go completely invisible- suits designed to even erase their shadows via a complex system of reflections and lights.

Of course, you're the first thing to come to mind when they put them on. You were their favorite barista at a café close to base. You probably didn't remember them out of your sea of regulars, but they never stopped thinking about you, a mutual fixation on you blooming between them. They start out small, breaking and entering in the middle of the night. Unplugging your phone from the charger so you wake up without an alarm, the battery long dead. Turning off power to your fridge and leaving the doors open, the food spoiled by the time you wake up.

The best part of the suits is they get to stick around and watch your devastation. Scrambling out of bed with a panicked, half asleep noise, putting on the first set of work clothes you can find. Soap leaning against your fridge so he can get a full look at your face as it crumples at the sight, your vegetables wilted and your meat already smelling.

Ghost takes it a step further after nights of keeping you awake with strange knocks around the house or precious items crashing to the floor. Soap has to bite his lip to keep from giggling as they take turns whispering your name in the night. They wait a few minutes between while they watch you peer into the dark, breath shaking in your chest in fear. You look so adorable with your eyes wide and darting about, like a pretty little thing of prey in your thin tank top and comfy panties. Like you're just waiting to be eaten.

Ghost brushes by Soap, hands reaching out purposefully to give his hand a squeeze. A silent command to stay. Soap is left waiting with you, continuing to admire how vulnerable you look. All it does is leave his cock swelling in the pants, fantasizing about ways he could get you to make that pretty frightened face for him more directly. Soap couldn't wait to get his hands on you, make you feel real weakness under his grip. They weren't going to fuck with you forever, this was just them playing with their food. A sort of foreplay. He wonders if you'd cry, if you'd beg for your life. Or would you try and play along, in hopes they'd spare you? Would you try to fight back, could you maybe land a blow on him? Soap palms himself quietly, careful to not let your now focused hearing catch him in the act. He really hopes you can split his lip or something, leave a scar to remember you by.

The both of you startle as suddenly you hear Ghost bellowing your name from somewhere on the first floor. His voice is so loud, so angry, it barely sounds human and is left ringing in your ears for a full minute after. You're paralyzed with fear, hyperventilating now. Before you could snap out of it and reach for your phone, you screamed at the feeling of a hand gripping your ankle and yanking you to the foot of the bed.

There was nothing and no one there. Even in the limited light you could tell that you were alone. This must have been a break in your psyche, you reassured yourself, just because you haven't been sleeping well and things have been going wrong in the house. No matter how you reassure yourself, you still creep down the stairs to look around for any signs of intrusion.

Every step, you pause and listen around for something, anything. Maybe a bear broke into your house for food or a thief was rooting through your office for your safe box. Maybe it was something as small and harmless as mice knocking over furniture. Every second feels like an eternity, your heart racing in your throat.

"Hello? I know there's someone here. Just leave, and I won't call the cops."

Ghost sneers at you behind the suit. What a stupid thing for you to do and say. He considers jumping the gun, ruining the mystery by revealing himself and teaching you a lesson. Soap inadvertently stops him, setting off your security alarm.

The high pitched alarm rang out, making you wince and cover your ears. Your house phone starts ringing, you scramble to pick it up. Backing yourself up against your living room wall to stare wide eyed into the darkness.

"Knight Security. Please provide your security code." The voice on the line said. The man sounded calm, kind, certain. It somehow helped to make you focus, take a deep breath. Probably why the guy worked there.

"CL-NG-8675."

"Alright, got you. The alarms were tripped at your property. Everything alright?"

Was everything alright? Now talking to another living being, you weren't so sure. You tried to put everything you were experiencing into words but found you sounded incredibly silly... or one foot into a mental break.

"...Yeah, I'm alright."

"That's good. I'll get those sirens turned off for you and call off emergency services. Now, procedure does require me to have you walk through all possible entrances and exits in the home just to verify security. Would you mind checking the front door, love?"

Blissfully, the alarm turned off. The ear piercing sound finally gone, you let out a sigh of relief. The handsome voice on the phone asked you to check the front door, so you did. Confirmed it was locked and secure, just as you left it before bed.

He had you do the same with your garage door, the side door to the yard, and the back door.

"Perfect. You did a great job. Best customer of the night, if I may say," You could hear the smile in his voice.

"Why, thank you. You may," You quipped back, smiling to yourself in the darkness of the living room.

The man on the phone sounded like he was going to say goodbye, but he paused and made a small sound. "Oh! Before I let you go, I have one more question I have to add to the report."

"Of course, anything," You say, eager to please now that your heart had stopped racing.

"Are you alone in the home?"

Your response was immediate. "Yes."

The line went silent for a few beats. "...Are you sure?"

You could still hear the smile in his voice, but these words were spoken softly, dangerously.

"...What?"

"Turn around."

[1emon1ime]

Under Your Skin [ Koba x Human Reader ] NSFW

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59176939

Koba x Female Reader (Caesar x Reader is also mentioned throughout.

New Koba fic! I feel like we were due one ♡

Content Warning: Violence, Marking, Threats of Death/Violence, Biting, Blood and Injury, Extremely Dubious Consent, bordering on Noncon. Cheating (kind of).

Do not click read more if you are under 18 or do not want to read such content listed above!

You were the sole survivor out of a group of humans who had succumbed to illness. Injured and close to death, you were taken in by Caesar's colony and over the months you had formed a close bond with the Ape King.

However, you had a craving for something more dangerous, more feral. And you sought it out again and again.

Who would be as foolish as to pity you? 

A thousand shrapnel shredding skin, that is what being near Koba felt like. It’s what his hand on your wrist felt like, whether its trajectory of intent is violence or something else–

He could feel your heartbeat pounding on the inside of your wrist, stroking a thumb over the thin, delicate skin. 

Caesar had pitied you. And that is why– even as Koba pinned you up against the tree and threatened you– you were still alive.

Really, you have no right to feel sorry for yourself when you enticed yourself to the thought of your previous assault. Each day seeking new ways to relive it, when you should have been getting off to Caesar, who had shown you nothing but compassion and empathy when he made love to you. He would find you disloyal should he ever learn of you reliving your worst nightmares with aroused desperation. 

And this is how you found yourself in your current predicament.

Pushed up against the trunk of a tree with the sharp tip of a spear hovering right over your heart.

You sniffed, red faced, tears threatening to spill as you stared into the eyes of what you could only describe as pure malice. You couldn't help the shame that filled you as his gruff voice boomed in your ears, making the blood in your veins run cold.

  “Let go of me!” You said but your voice was small and scared, a mirror of your inner self that Koba had flagrantly peered into, and your will to defend yourself completely depleted in that very moment, had it ever been there to begin with.

"Human. Scare away deer-- Koba's-- Apes Food." Each word was heavy as he forced them out; laced with a dangerous tone that could be perceived as a threat if you were to even breathe wrong.You had to think carefully about your answer, your reaction. Not wanting to further set the fuse off.

You swallowed hard as the bonobo held his gaze to your timid and frightened one, heart pounding hard against your chest. 

"Koba– I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm really sorry." You choked, tears spilling over your lashes as he glared at you, his expression hardened. "I didn't mean to get in the way. "

Despite your desperate apologies, he was not moved in the slightest, only digging the tip of his spear more against your chest, causing your breath to hitch. You squeaked, such a pathetic little noise that had him looking at you as little more than a skittish baby rabbit. 

He could have snapped your neck with just one hand, as easy as breaking a twig in two. Thrust his hunting spear deep into your chest or sliced your throat with little to no effort.

But he was restraining himself.

Koba growled, eyes narrowing at your pitiful figure. He pushed you further into the trunk, making you shrink against the tree, bark digging painfully against your back. He looked you up and down with his one good eye, as if considering what to do with you next. 

As afraid as you were in the moment, Caesar had given you his protection. Swore an oath to look after you. The fact that both of you know this is what made your situation all the more disgraceful. You could have easily stayed away from Koba, but instead you sought him out again and again. Knowing that he too understood the conditions of your stay. Far from worthy of Caesar’s affection. Pathetic, you were. Continuously craving depravity when you were undeserving. Even in the arms of Caesar the previous night, you desired, pined for reprieve, for relief conducted through a love that Caesar could not give. 

The sharp point of the blade sliced through the thin layer of fabric you had covering your chest. Koba’s upper lip curled into a snarl as he pinned you there with his weight, and despite his obvious rage, his hands were surprisingly… gentle when he ripped the remains of your shirt, tearing it open down the front.

Next, your bottoms were removed with less grace, making you one and the same as him, as the apes, as nature. Naked, bare, and vulnerable. Now you were on even ground. The last threads of your humanity torn from you. 

Koba’s raw strength manifested a terrifying impotence in your stifled chest as you were trapped in place with such ease, utterly helpless as you were. Nails scraped your skin as he exposed your body to the chilled air. You felt sickened, powerless to stop him from violating you without a hint of hesitation. 

Even after he had discarded your clothing, Koba still held his spear tight against your sternum. It was purely a threat. Both of you knew that Caesar had a protective hold over you. Koba moreso, had been prevented from killing humans before. Which had never been much of an issue because there had never been humans staying as permanent residents within the colony. Only those who would pass by unwillingly. But since you had come along his emotional wellbeing had spiralled.

“Human’s fault. Apes will have– no food today.” He growled against your ear, baring his teeth.

Your breathing grew shallow, eyes darting between his, your chest tightened as the weight of the cold, metal tip against your naked chest grew ever so slightly heavier, his grip on the spear tightening. You swallowed, a shaky breath escaping your lips. There’s no way he would actually do it– You thought.

He dragged it upwards until the tip of the spear was pushed into your neck ever so slightly— not enough to break skin but enough to let you feel the cold, sharp blade grazing against your skin. To strike fear into you, make you obedient, learn your place.

"I really am so sorry..." you whispered hoarsely, words just managing to escape. You were met with the same icy glare from before, your now bare skin prickling with goosebumps.

He let out an amused scoff in response, leaning into your jawline, raking his teeth over your slender neck and back up the side, right against the vein he knew lay beneath, blood pumping, life giving.

"Sorry?" He repeated, his voice quiet. "You *lie*. You always lie."

And you had. How could you deny that? You came here on purpose. To seek him out. To provoke him. Something about the way that Koba threatened you made your face flush embarrassingly so.

He held you close, almost cradling you in one strong arm but you knew it was anything but affectionate; especially with the sharp tip of his spear still pressed against your skin.

You shook your head. "N-no! No, I'm telling the truth. It was an accident, I swear!" You cried, pleading with him. Hard as it was when you were trapped under his weight with a sharp blade pointed directly to your throat.

Koba’s hackles rose, bristling with anger. He pulled his hunting spear back as if he were about to stab you. Instead however,  he slammed it against the tree, right next to your jugular with a loud thud, the spear hitting the wood with such force that a loud crack could be heard.

You flinched and covered your head with your arms. You swore your heart had stopped momentarily, the fear in your chest rising to a crescendo.

"Human lie!" Koba's eyes widened, his upper lip curling into a snarl as he pressed harder against your body, suffocating you under his large frame.

His chest rose and fell with his quickened breath. You could feel the anger rolling off him in waves, with each of his laboured breaths warm against your skin. Heat spread from his head through his entire body like a roaring wildfire.

"Should just– skin *you*, instead–” Koba hissed through his teeth. His lips curved into a small, sadistic smirk, eyes narrowing in amusement at how you tensed up in fear at the suggestion.

He took in the scent of fear on your skin and leaned back just enough to look you in the eye. He was only inches away from your face. His gaze cold and unrelenting with not a trace of empathy.

He was so close, you could see every detail in his face. From the large scar that ran down one side of his face, his blind, milky white eye to the deep, jagged lines of his furrowed brow, His large canines that stuck out in an almost permanent underbite were sharp enough to tear the flesh from your bones. 

Everything about him was so much– *more* than you. Built to withstand the harsh forest environment where you were not. Your skin was fragile, breaking and bruising easily, you had no strength, no sharp fangs, no fur protecting your body from the elements. Reminding you of how much you really did not belong here.

You whimpered and Koba leaned forward to whisper into your ear again.

"Wouldn't want– to waste meat, would we?"

His breath tickled your ear and made your skin crawl. You shuddered and turned your face away from him, not wanting him to see that you were now crying anew, hiccuping from your sobs as he bit down on the junction of your neck and shoulder.

The flesh caved and his thick tongue lapped against the wound, Koba groaned at the sweet, coppery taste of your blood but the sound was drowned out by your now *agonizing* wail. The pain seared through you, a high pitched noise deafening and dulling your senses, leaving you too disorientated to attempt resistance. It took a second for you to come back to reality, to really comprehend your situation but when you finally became aware of Koba’s hands firmly, agonizingly, holding you by the neck and hips, you knew what was going to happen. With a bone-chilling awareness you knew what was going to transpire and there was no way out of it now.

Your legs kicked out from the pain as you bowed your head. “Ahn– stop! Stop it!” you sobbed, trying to force yourself up against Koba’s shoulders but his strength outmatched yours, pushing you back down, trapping you firmly between himself and the tree trunk. “No more! Please don’t hurt me!” 

Koba wasn’t shy of leaving lasting marks nor speaking words that bit into the feeble self-esteem you had managed to build over the past few months after Caesar had rescued you from almost certain death and given you a sense of purpose once again.

The bonobo lifted his large hand to rest on your hip, his fingers slowly digging into your flesh. It was all too much and the taste of your blood had flipped a switch inside of him that Koba no longer had any desire to ignore. The arousal building up inside of him reached a crescendo with the taste of iron on his thirsty tongue

And you could sense that something had changed; you started hyperventilating, fingers digging into the rough bark behind you, peeling it off in cracks. You trembled as Koba's hand slowly crept around your waist, pulling you in taut against his muscular chest.

Blood roared in Koba’s ears and the thrill of power overtook him. He wanted nothing more in that moment, than to defile you. Your pristine and porcelain skin that had been protected under a layer of clothing, nothing like his scarred, ruined body. Your glassy eyes, wide and naive staring into his own, one disfigured and one seething with decades of hatred for the species that had taken everything from him.

"K-Koba," you breathed, unable to control the shakiness in your voice. "Please…"

The way he practically drank your plea in only made your heart pound louder and quicker, the adrenaline rushing through your veins.

Overcome with hormones, anger and a feeling of possession, he began to rut against you, unceremoniously. He was getting off on your pain, relishing the fear you now openly displayed with a terrified expression and body taut like a wire. His to destroy.

You could feel his cock hard, pressing into your thigh. One of his large hands ghosting up and down your body, stopping right between your legs. Both of you shuddered in unison. But it was *your * eyes that went wide. Koba felt your body tremble beneath his. Your small hands grabbed at his forearms but he didn’t budge, thumbing your privates in reviere. 

“Caesar… touch you– like this?” His words came out, short and raspy, strained.

You swallowed the painful lump in your throat in response to his question, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing. You really didn’t know how he would react either way. Or perhaps Koba already knew the answer and was simply taunting you.

His breath hitched in his throat and his nostrils flared when you refused to acknowledge his question.

"Please…" You murmured softly in a tiny, unwavering voice, even as unparallelled horror creeped in. "Please don't… Please, don't do this." Why, why did you lie to yourself? Lie to him? 

Koba simply ignored you, growling lowly and allowing himself this short moment of indulging his impulsive desires. He continued to bury his face in your neck, his dark fur tickling your sensitive skin as he slid the first finger into your slick entrance. 

You shrieked in response, kicking out at the intrusion but Koba held you tight and forced his digit all the way to the knuckle.

His finger moved in a slow, torturous motion as he pulled out, scraping over the walls of your insides. You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning out loud when he brushed your g-spot and your head drooped to the side, whatever inhibitions you might’ve felt have dissipated.

You could feel the unmistakable sensation of penetration from two fingers and your back arched, voice cracking uncomfortably at the feeling. His fingers were rough and much larger than any humans, already stretching you uncomfortably so. 

“Stop,” you lied. Both of you knew it was a lie. He could smell the arousal dripping from you, could feel it coating his fingers. Fear had turned to erotic electricity sparking between both of you that words could no longer deny.

Even so, you had to think. Did apes understand the concept of consent? Of rape? From what you understood, they would usually just take what they wanted when they wanted. Mating for the purpose of reproduction.

Your cunt ached, the bite mark on your neck stung, and your ribs were smeared with thin streaks of red, you couldn’t bear it anymore. Chest heaving, you spread your legs, pushing your pelvis up slightly- offering yourself to Koba. Prompting him to take you. And with that, there was no further hesitation. 

The tree bark could have splintered with the force at which he penetrated you, with how hard you gripped onto it, pressure so intense your knuckles turned white. You bit down on your lower lip, so hard that it bled at every relentless thrust into your body. Koba said something you scarcely understood, but the sound of his voice, the tinge of pleasured exertion, was enough for you to cry out. Brutalized, you took what you were forcefully given. You tried to stifle any sound of pleasure, but they slipped out of you regardless.

He exhaled, starting to build a steady pace, sliding his thick cock in and out of you with languid ease, relishing your warmth that gripped him tight.

“Hah,” he growled into your shoulder, lapping more of your blood from the wound he had inflicted earlier. The way you tasted, the way you smelled, he would be jerking off to the memory of this for weeks.

The fresh bite mark stung and you shuddered, hands clung to the fur of your assailants shoulder blades in an attempt to lessen the sting. Koba snickered to himself at how you begged him for relief.

“Better than Caesar?” He grunted out, through a particularly hard thrust and you squeezed your eyes shut, ignoring his prying question once again.

Koba didn’t seem too pleased that you were avoiding to answer however and gripped onto your neck with one hand, squeezing the air out of you.

“Human. Answer when spoken to.”

You choked and he loosened his grip slightly, “Y-yes– aghh, it… it feels so much better when you fuck me.” 

You gasped through the pleasure and pain.

“Koba-!”

The force of your pitiful thrashing did little more than cause you to fuck yourself further down on Koba’s cock and he hissed through gritted teeth, feeling the telltale signs of orgasm licking at his insides. He drove in harder than before at the feeling of wanting to wreck you, mate you and utterly defile you is what pushed him over the edge, grinning with insatiable greed as you came undone underneath him. 

You go taunt, in your release. Shaken to your core as your own orgasm takes over. It’s the most intense you'd ever had. You feel yourself tremble and spasm around his shaft.

He flooded your insides, coming at the same time as you and holding himself there for minutes before dropping you to the forest floor, as if you were little more than a rag for him to use and abandon at will.

Gravity pulled you down from your disgraceful orgasm and you wiped your teary face. You shivered, still vulnerable from the pleasurable high.

But when reality set in, your face paled, and you felt nauseous, dreadful of the disappointment, of seeking him out again, allowing yourself to be taken so violently and the fact that you enjoyed it.

“Tell anyone about– This,” he threatened, as he retrieved his spear, through gritted teeth. “Koba will rip your head from your shoulders.” 

[vancilart]

elder dragon boogaloo

[brittlebutch]

Tell me a fun Bill and Ted fact? I know nothing about them really

Bill and Ted is such a fascinating franchise to me bc it's Super Obvious that a majority of people's awareness of it begins and ends with the first movie - Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure - and yet there is so much to uncover about these dudes. There are three films, one novelization, like 7 comic series, a cartoon that ran for 2 seasons, a musical, a live action show that ran for 7 (bad) episodes, like 3 video games, and a pretty longstanding run as a Halloween Horror Nights show.

They're also extremely fun characters because there's like, such a prevalent tendency to generalize their character types, but they're actually Super specific personalities. Like, Bill and Ted don't ever use the words 'rad' or 'bro' nor any 'surfer lingo' or 'valley speak', they're not ever sarcastic/ironic they're like Painfully earnest constantly (the writers even specified that Bill and Ted are "these innocents who would wander wide-eyed into any situation and treat everyone exactly the same - completely open, completely friendly" and the Director also refers to the 'Puppy Factor' wrt Bill and Ted, meaning they should both "Be like big Labrador Retrievers who just bounce along and love life",) they Do use the word 'dude' nigh constantly BUT people always underestimate how often they'll use each other's names equally as often, and also they're really not slackers or deliberately dismissive of schooling/education - they are trying really hard, they just genuinely struggle/can't learn things right (you can tell they even kind of Value it because they do make an effort to use like, Expanded Vocabulary, it's just that they don't always fully understand the words so they'll use them wrong on accident) - i just love them so much

[yuichiroswife]

{ I need to get out of bed already, but my motivation is just... nonexistent at this point... }

[ja3yun]

In Safe Hands

roommate!heejake x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, dom!heeseung, softdom!jake (kinda), oral (m&f. rec), fingering, double pen, anal, squirting, mentions of choking, slapping (twice, not hard), spanking, spit, pet names (angel, sweetheart, slut), pure filth, heejake eat reader out at the same time but that's about as mlm as it gets, not proof read, anything else lmk. w.c: 19.6k synopsis: your brother, sunghoon, has left you in the safe hands of his two best friends. little does he know that those 'safe' hands are about to be all over you. a/n: hi! okay this is pure smut, like basically a pwp atp. my beautiful bestie ruby @dollyyun, this one is for you! i wrote this entirely for all your horn needs <3 i hope you love it! as always, comments, reblogs, etc etc are all welcome! this isn't something i usually do but for ruby i will.

With a grunt of effort, your older brother hoists your bulky box of unread books up the narrow staircase, muscles straining against the weight. His face is set in a grimace, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as he curses under his breath. “Why the hell did she pack so many books?” he mutters, breathless. 

He knows he should be cursing his friends more than the weight of your belongings - they’re the ones who thought living on the top floor of a six-story building with no elevator was a brilliant idea. Then again, he should probably be cursing himself the most. It was his bright idea to suggest that you temporarily move in with his best friends Jake and Heeseung.

You and your brother, Sunghoon, are finally moving out of your parents' house. The desire for freedom, for space that doesn’t involve the relentless noise of your four younger siblings, has been simmering for years. At first, Sunghoon planned to move out alone, excited to claim his independence and a taste of solitude. But you weren’t about to let him escape so easily. You pleaded, over and over, wearing him down with promises that you wouldn’t be a burden, that you’d pay your share of the rent on time without fail, and that he’d barely even notice you were there.

And because Sunghoon has a massive soft spot for you, it wasn’t long before he caved. 

But your earnest pleas and big doe eyes have created a bit of a problem. The one-bedroom flat Sunghoon initially secured for himself was definitely not equipped to house both of you. With no other option but to look for a larger place, Sunghoon is forced to start scouring the rental market again. Meanwhile, your parents, seizing the opportunity, quickly repurposed your old rooms. His room became your youngest brother’s new, much-coveted space, and yours was transformed into your mom’s long-awaited home office. The message was clear: they loved you both, but they were more than ready to reclaim their home. It was as if they were holding open the door with one hand and pushing you through it with the other. They wanted you out as badly as you wanted to leave.

The bond between you and Sunghoon has always been unbreakable. As the two eldest in a large family, you’ve naturally gravitated towards each other for support.

At 22, Sunghoon has always taken on the protective role, while you, at 20, have been his closest companion. With your other siblings much younger - at least a seven-year age gap between them and the two of you - there were countless moments when it felt like it was just the two of you against the world. The late-night talks, the inside jokes, the shared burden of babysitting - those memories have created an unspoken understanding that makes living together now seem natural, almost like slipping into a familiar rhythm.

And that’s how you’ve ended up here, in Sunghoon’s best friend’s tiny flat, your temporary refuge until Sunghoon manages to secure a new lease on a place that can fit you both. The apartment, perched at the very top of a creaking, century-old building, is barely big enough for its current occupants, let alone one more, but they insisted on helping. 

Since this living arrangement is only temporary, there’s no point in unpacking your belongings just to repack them again in a few weeks. The result is a cramped, cluttered mess; the room looks more like a makeshift warehouse than a living space. Yet, neither of the boys seems particularly disgruntled by the chaos. If anything, they look almost amused as they manoeuvre around the piles of boxes.

Finally reaching the top of the stairs, Sunghoon stumbles into the flat, his breath ragged and his legs burning from the climb. He barely manages to get the door open before letting the heavy box of books drop at his feet with a dull thud. He bends forward, resting his hands on his knees as he takes a moment to catch his breath, sweat trickling down his temples.

His eyes scan the small living room, which is already in disarray. Jake and Heeseung are busy shifting their couch and other furniture around, trying to carve out a space for the mountain of boxes that have taken over their home.

“Thanks for letting her stay here, guys. I know it’s a big ask,” Sunghoon huffs out his appreciation, still slightly breathless. He wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and carefully climbs over a few stacked boxes to get closer to them. There’s sincerity in his voice, a touch of guilt too, knowing that his sister’s sudden arrival will most likely cause a tear in their normal routines.

Jake’s face lights up with his trademark bright smile, his eyes crinkling into happy crescents. He waves a hand dismissively as if brushing away any notion of inconvenience. “It’s no worries,” he replies, his tone warm and reassuring. “She’s always fun to have around.” His voice is genuine, and there’s a glimmer of fondness in his eyes. It’s clear he means it, and it’s enough to ease some of the tension in Sunghoon’s shoulders.

Heeseung, who has been busy adjusting a leaning bookshelf against the wall, turns to face Sunghoon, a small grin upturning his lips. “You sure you don’t wanna stay here too?” he teases, tossing a can of beer toward Sunghoon in a slow, lazy arc.

Catching the can, Sunghoon replies with a soft chuckle, his fingers curling around the cold metal. He presses it against his cheek for a moment, savouring the coolness before cracking it open. “Nah, I’ve got Mars to crash with,” he replies, his voice softening slightly at the mention of his girlfriend’s name. While your only option was his friends’ crowded flat, he had a much more appealing alternative in his girlfriend’s place.

Jake’s laugh breaks the brief silence, a low and knowing chuckle that causes his shoulders to shake. “To fuck, you mean?” he quips, raising a single eyebrow with a playful smirk tugging at his lips. 

The boy shrugs and takes a long gulp of his beer, giving an unrepentant gesture. "Either way, it's a bed, isn't it?" he replies, his mouth twisting into a relaxed grin. "Plus, I don't really want Y/N to hear me shaking the house, if you know what I mean.." His tone of voice is light, playful, yet his eyes are filled with slight horror at the thought.

He loves you - he truly does - but he and Mars seldom have undisturbed time together, and the idea of enjoying a few weeks without frequent interruptions is too appealing to pass up. The thought of you crashing on a mattress in the living room while her bedframe taps repeatedly against the wall makes him quiver. That’s a level of sibling intimacy he’s sure neither of you wants to reach.

“Oh, so you’re alright with her hearing us?” Jake's eyes gleam with mischief, clearly enjoying how easily he can rile up his friend. He leans back against the arm of the couch, crossing his arms over his chest, waiting for the inevitable comeback.

Setting his beer down, Sunghoon turns to face him fully, his expression suddenly serious. “As long as you keep it to her hearing it and nothing else,” he replies sharply, his voice carrying a warning edge. The room falls into a brief, awkward silence that Jake breaks with a chuckle, amused by Sunghoon’s protective streak. But Sunghoon’s gaze doesn’t waver, and he leans forward, his voice dropping to a low tone. “I’m serious. If either of you so much as touch her, I will personally saw your cocks off with rocks.”

Jake’s laugh dies in his throat, replaced by a wary smile. He exchanges a glance with Heeseung, who gives him a knowing look, a silent conversation between them before collecting themselves. 

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” Heeseung reassures him, his voice calm and measured. “Y/N’s a good girl anyway.” He nods as he speaks, trying to diffuse the tension but a flicker of spark as he calls you a good girl flashes in his iris’. 

“Yeah, she knows better than to jump on Hee’s infested cock,” Jake quips with a smart-ass grin, dispelling the weird aura that this conversation has brought between the three of them. The words spill out effortlessly, taking jabs at his best friend comes so naturally, and Heeseung’s face twists in sarcastic offence.

“At least girls wanna fuck me, huh, Mister ‘it’s been three weeks’,” Heeseung shoots back without missing a beat, his voice dripping with mock pity. He leans closer to Jake, nudging him playfully with his elbow. The banter between them escalates, their voices overlapping as they trade jabs like two kids in a schoolyard. The energy in the room is electric, charged with the sort of camaraderie that comes from knowing exactly how to push each other’s buttons.

“Shut the fu-” 

“Guys, both of you shut up.” Sunghoon’s tone is commanding, the kind of no-nonsense voice that instantly demands attention as he cuts through their back-and-forth nips. Jake and Heeseung fall silent, their grins fading as they see his serious gaze. “I’m serious. No touching my sister,” Sunghoon continues, each word deliberate and heavy. “End of story.”

Jake and Heeseung exchange a quick look, and like schoolchildren caught red-handed, they nod in unison, their earlier bravado slipping away. “Alright, alright, we get it,” Jake finally says, raising his hands in surrender, a sheepish smile creeping back onto his face. “Message received, man.” 

Heeseung doesn’t say a word, instead looking down, his mind deep in contemplation as he bites his lip.

Sunghoon watches them for a moment longer, his stare sharp and unwavering, before he finally relaxes, picking up his beer again. He takes a long, slow sip, letting the cool liquid soothe the heat still coursing through his body. “Good,” he mutters, but there’s a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his lips now. “Just making sure.”

Your footsteps echo in the narrow corridor as you trudge up the stairs, carrying a small box that is featherweight compared to the heavy one your brother had just hauled up not five minutes ago. As you step inside, Jake spots you and immediately rushes over, kicking some stray bags out of your path to clear the way. “Watch yourself, pretty,” he says with a playful grin.

“Thank you, Jaeyun,” you reply with a smile, your tone warm and appreciative. His use of the sudden nickname causes a faint blush to creep up your cheeks, which doesn’t go unnoticed by him. You’re used to Jake’s harmless flirting, it’s just part of who he is, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t catch you off guard from time to time. There's always a momentary flutter in your chest whenever he turns that easy charm on you, and this time is no different. 

As you hand the box over to him, your fingers graze his, a brief touch that sends a spark through your skin but you quickly shake it off, stepping away from him as he stacks the box on top of others.

You take a moment to survey your surroundings. Though you’ve been in this flat more times than you have fingers, the knowledge that it’s now going to be your home for the next few weeks makes you see it from a completely different perspective. 

The guys have definitely made an effort to clean; the place looks more put together than usual if you take away your abundance of bags and boxes, but there’s a strange vibe hanging in the air. It's an odd mix of familiarity and uncertainty. You’ve only ever been here as a guest, mostly to watch movies with your brother, his girlfriend, and the two tenants. But now, you’ll be doing everything here - sleeping, showering, studying - things you never imagined doing under this roof.

It doesn’t help that you wouldn’t exactly call yourself close with both of them, well, with Jake, maybe you could consider yourselves friendly. He always goes out of his way to make you feel welcome whenever you visit. If you need an extra blanket, he’s there with one almost before you can ask. If you’re in the mood for tea or coffee, Jake seems to magically appear with a steaming mug in hand. There’s a warmth to him, a natural generosity that makes you feel at ease, even if he turns the situation horny in 0.2 seconds. He's got a knack for toeing the line between friendly and flirty, but somehow it never crosses into uncomfortable territory. Instead, it just makes the atmosphere a little lighter, a little more fun.

Heeseung, on the other hand, is a bit more of a mystery. He’s always been somewhat reserved around you, distant even. Not cold, exactly, but certainly not as openly friendly as Jake. You’ve never taken it personally, though. You know he isn’t the type to shower people with affection or heap on praise. He’s more of an observer, the kind who stands on the outskirts of the chaos, quietly taking it all in rather than diving into the fray. There’s a calmness to him that can feel almost intimidating, but there’s also a sense of steadiness that you find strangely comforting. Still, the idea of sharing a space with someone who keeps to himself so much leaves you wondering how the dynamics might shift now that you’ll be living under the same roof.

“You got many more bags?” Heeseung asks, his voice carrying curiosity as he glances over at you.

“Uh, two more?” you reply, slightly sheepish.

Sunghoon sighs, clearly exasperated. “I told you to pack light for now,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair in frustration. To be fair, you might have overpacked just a smidge and not listened to him when he told you to only bring necessary things with you to the new house and toss out the rest, but the last thing you want is to be caught without something important - hence the extra bags.

“It’s okay, I’ll get them,” Heeseung offers, his tone matter-of-fact.

“I can help,” you quickly volunteer, not wanting to seem like a burden, but he simply shakes his head, already turning toward the stairs. Without another word, he jogs down the steps to retrieve the remaining bags, his long strides making quick work of the descent. You watch him go, a grateful smile tugging at your lips because you know for a fact that those last two bags are the heaviest - you probably should have told him that.

As you stand there, Jake drapes an arm over your shoulder and pulls you into his side, his touch light but familiar. “We’ll have the best time, huh?” he says with a grin, his voice full of easy confidence.

You look up at him, matching his smile as you offer him a half-hug in return. “For sure,” you reply, feeling a bit of your earlier anxiety melt away. Jake has always had a way of making you feel at ease, his energy infectious in the best possible way.

Sunghoon, however, can’t help but notice the physical contact, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watches Jake’s arm around you. He doesn’t say anything, though; he knows Jake well enough to understand that this kind of skinship is just part of who he is. Too many times has Sunghoon been on the receiving end of Jake’s clinginess, so he lets it slide, albeit with a small sigh of resignation.

A moment later, Heeseung appears at the bottom of the final flight of stairs, grunting softly as he makes his way back up, each step slow and deliberate under the weight of your bags. His muscles strain visibly beneath his t-shirt, the fabric stretching tight across his shoulders and arms. “Did you pack a dead body in here?” he huffs, finally reaching the top and setting the bags down with a heavy thud. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he catches his breath, his lean, strong frame clearly pushed to its limits by the sheer weight.

Even as he exhales, his muscles begin to relax, but your eyes are drawn to the way the veins still protrude along his forearms, winding like thick cords beneath his skin. His biceps, now flexed from the exertion, stand out in sharp relief, the definition in his arms a testament to his strength. It’s clear that Heeseung is no stranger to physical labour - his body is built for it - but even he seems momentarily winded by the effort, a faint sheen of sweat glistening on his brow.

You aren’t oblivious to how attractive Heeseung is, in fact, it’s quite the opposite. Ever since Sunghoon first introduced you to his friends, you’ve been aware of the magnetic pull both of them seem to have on you. And honestly, who wouldn’t feel that way? Jake, with his effortless charm and eyes so dreamy they could melt stone, has a way of drawing you in without even trying. 

Then there’s Heeseung - tall and broad, with a quiet confidence that radiates off him in waves. His smile, rare as it is, sends your heart into a wild spin whenever you’re lucky enough to see it. There’s something about his reserved nature, the way he watches the room with those sharp eyes, that makes him even more intriguing.

As he straightens up, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension, there’s a brief moment where you catch yourself staring, fascinated by the raw power in his frame but the slight cracks from his shoulders speak volumes, and you can’t help but feel a pang of guilt for making him carry such a heavy load.

“Thanks, Heeseung,” you murmur, your voice sincere as you meet his eyes, hoping to convey just how much you appreciate his help. He simply nods, brushing it off as no big deal, and there’s a slight, almost imperceptible smile at the corner of his mouth.

Bending down, you reach for one of the bags to help out, wanting to ease some of the burden. But before you can get a grip on it, Jake swoops in and grabs it first. You watch as he lifts it, his arm muscles flexing with the effort. You can see him struggle with the weight, his smile faltering for just a second but Jake being Jake, tries to play it off with his usual nonchalance, shrugging the bag over his shoulder and grabbing the handle of the other one. 

“If you take the other handle, you can help me carry it and I’ll show you to your room,” he says, flashing you that familiar grin that always seems to promise mischief and fun.

You smile back and nod, stepping in to grab the other handle. The two of you share the load and together, you manoeuvre down the narrow hallway, leaving Sunghoon and Heeseung behind.

With your back turned you miss the subtle flicker of annoyance that crosses Heeseung’s face as he watches you giggle over something Jake just said. His jaw tightens, and he shifts his weight slightly, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before turning away. There’s something unreadable in his gaze, a mix of frustration and something else.

Sunghoon, however, catches the change in his friend’s expression. Turning to Heeseung, he looks dead serious, his usual relaxed demeanour replaced with a steely resolve. “Look after her, yeah?” he says, his voice low but firm. “I trust you more than Jake with this, don’t do something stupid.”

Your brother isn’t distrusting of Jake, but you’re easily swayed and Jake has a smooth tongue, he can’t help but imagine the two of you under the same roof and what could happen. And Heeseung, even if that look gave Sunghoon a reason to be concerned, would know better than to touch you.

“Don’t worry,” Heeseung replies, his voice steady. “She’s in safe hands.” There’s a weight behind his words, something that Sunghoon misses entirely.

It’s not Jake he should be worried about.

_____

The past three weeks have been nothing short of incredible. The newfound freedom from your parents has made you feel like a new person. There’s a weight lifted off your shoulders that you hadn’t realised was there until it was gone. 

Living with Jake and Heeseung has been refreshing; they respect your privacy in a way that you’re not used to. They don’t bombard you with a million questions about where you’ve been or why you’re going out at odd hours of the night, unlike your parents, who seem to hover over your every move, they trust you to make your own choices. 

Jake, in particular, brings a lightness to the flat that you’ve grown to adore. His infectious humour seems to brighten up even the dullest of days. He has a way of pulling you out of your shell with his playful teasing and silly antics. But then, there’s his flirting - relentless and almost too easy. It’s always just on the line of being harmless fun, but lately, you’ve noticed your chest fluttering whenever he’s around. Like the time he’d cornered you in the kitchen, grinning as he leaned in close under the pretence of grabbing something from the cabinet behind you. Or that morning when he "accidentally" walked into your room while you were changing, only to stand there gawking at your tits before insisting on making you breakfast to make up for it. You’ve tried to play it cool, but his attention has started to make your heart race, and you can’t help but wonder if he notices.

Heeseung, however, is a different story. While he has been welcoming enough, there’s a strange awkwardness between you two that you can’t quite put your finger on. It’s not that he’s unfriendly or cold, just...distant. You’ve racked your brain trying to figure out why. There’s no clear reason for it, so you’ve concluded that it’s probably because you’re invading his space. After all, the idea of doing Sunghoon a favour by letting his little sister crash here is probably better in theory than in practice. 

You’re aware that Heeseung’s never lived with a girl before; maybe it’s just a bit of an adjustment for him. Perhaps he’s not used to the softer touches around the flat, like your skincare bottles lining the bathroom shelf or your fluffy slippers by the door. So, you’ve been careful to keep your distance, to not get in his way or make him feel uncomfortable. The last thing you want is to be a bother to him when he’s being so kind and giving up his own room for you, sharing a bedroom with Jake to accommodate your presence.

On Thursday evening, you come home from your shift at the cafe, tired but content. As you slip off your shoes, you notice only one other pair at the door. That’s strange, by this time, both Jake and Heeseung are usually back home, lounging around or playing video games. 

Turning the corner, your breath catches in your throat. Heeseung is there, sitting on the edge of the couch, dressed in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that hang low on his hips. His chest is bare, revealing a toned, lean physique that you hadn't seen up close before. His skin is tanned and smooth, glistening slightly because he’s just stepped out of the shower. 

Your eyes trace the faint lines of his abs, the way they ripple subtly as he moves. Below his navel, a small trail of hair disappears beneath the waistband of his joggers, and you find yourself staring for a moment longer than you should, teeth instinctively biting the skin of your bottom lip. The sight is unexpectedly intimate, almost like you’ve walked in on something private, and your cheeks heat up with a mixture of embarrassment and something else you can’t quite name, or rather, simply don’t wish to acknowledge.

“Hey,” his voice is gruff, indicating that he hasn’t spoken in a while. His tone is low, almost raspy, sending a small shiver down your spine. He runs his fingers through his damp hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and his eyes stay fixed on you, waiting. “How was work?”

Heeseung doesn’t seem to notice you at first, busy towelling off his damp pink hair, but when he looks up and catches your eye, there’s a brief flash of surprise on his face.

For a second, neither of you moves. His gaze holds yours, and you feel pinned under the weight of it, your heart thudding in your chest. Then, his eyebrows raise in a twitch and he nods at you in acknowledgement. 

The conversation is trivial and bland and you expect it from Heeseung, considering this is how every interaction between you both has gone since living together. But right now, with the godly sight in front of you, your mouth feels dry, and you find it incredibly hard to piece together words for an answer that don’t include the filthy thoughts racing through your mind. Your gaze flickers over his bare torso again, lingering on the way his abs subtly flex with each breath, the light sheen of water still clinging to his skin.

It doesn’t help that you’re ovulating. That’s probably why you’re acting so feral over a man’s body right now. But then again, this isn’t just any man - this is Lee Heeseung. He’s perfect in every way, from his strong jawline and pretty nose to his long, kissable neck and the faint v-line that disappears into his sweatpants. Your eyes trail lower, curiosity burning within you. You’d love to expand further on your thoughts about him if only you knew what you were working with, but your imagination will have to suffice for now. 

When you don’t respond right away, Heeseung’s expression shifts slightly. He leaves the towel on the couch, his eyes narrowing with concern, and takes a few steps closer to you. The sudden proximity sends your heart into overdrive, and you can’t help but notice the way his muscles ripple beneath his skin, his presence electric. “Are you okay, Y/N?” he asks softly, his voice more gentle now, laced with genuine worry. “Did something happen?”

You snap back to reality, blinking rapidly as you try to shake off the haze of your thoughts. Your cheeks flush, and you clear your throat, hoping he can’t read your mind. “Oh, uh - yeah, I’m fine!” you finally stammer out, forcing a smile. “Work was just...busy, I guess. A lot of orders today.”

Of course, Heeseung is dubious of your sudden stuttering, wondering what on earth has gotten into you. Then, for a split second, your pupils dart to his chest then back to his face, and that is all the clues he needs to conclude his thoughts. You’re nervous. 

He would never dare tell Sunghoon that he’s been wishing for this moment for the past year. He was so eager to have you stay, thinking that it would be different from how it has turned out; Heeseung was going to use the opportunity to get close to you, figure out your opinions on him and see what he could capitalise on in an effort to make you crumble beneath him. He didn’t exactly need forever with you, one night of you screaming his name would suffice.

Heeseung isn’t one to walk around without a shirt on, so seeing him like this is a rare and unexpected sight. You've never seen him this way before, and it's clear that he never anticipated how much it would affect you.

Normally, you’ve shown little interest, or at least you’ve managed to hide it well. But now, standing before him with your eyes betraying a flicker of something more, Heeseung feels a strange excitement building in his chest, hammering away with a mixture of nerves and anticipation.

But that changed once Sunghoon shot that warning look, even fearless Jake was momentarily quaking at the intense gaze of his eyes. Still, you’ve also made it impossible for him to get close. 

Though ever the opportunist, Heeseung spots an opening right now, any concerns about Sunghoon’s threats out the window as he looks into your wide, pretty eyes.

A slow, teasing smirk tugs at his lips, and he takes another step closer, closing the distance between you even more. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks, his voice dropping to a low, velvety tone that sends a wave of heat crashing over you. “You look a little flustered.”

You swallow hard, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. “I’m fine,” you insist, but it comes out a little breathless, betraying the effect he’s having on you. God, why is he so fucking hot?

Heeseung’s eyes narrow playfully, and he leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “If I didn’t know any better,” he murmurs, his lips barely brushing your skin, “I’d say you were distracted.” His hand reaches out, fingers lightly grazing your arm, sending a shiver through you.

You don’t know how to handle this side of him. Heeseung is usually reserved, his words careful and measured. But now, there’s a boldness to him - a confidence that makes your stomach flutter. Flustered and overwhelmed, you decide it’s best to retreat before you embarrass yourself further. “I-I’m going to get ready for bed.” You turn on your heel, ready to escape to the safety of your room.

But before you can take another step, Heeseung’s hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist firmly but gently. He pulls you back toward him, his eyes dark and searching. “Why do you do that?” he asks, his voice suddenly serious.

You blink up at him, your heart racing. “Do what?”

“Avoid me,” he clarifies, his tone both curious and frustrated. “You’re always so keen to talk to Jake, but when it’s me, you just…scurry off.”

Your mouth opens, then closes, your mind scrambling for an explanation. You shake your head, trying to appear calm. “It’s not what you think.”

Heeseung’s eyes bore into yours, his expression a mix of playful challenge and something deeper, something almost vulnerable. “It’s not?” he repeats, his grip on your wrist tightening ever so slightly. “Because I’m starting to think you might not like me.”

His words are teasing, but there’s a shadow of insecurity in his stare, a hint that he might be more serious than he’s letting on. Your heart aches at the thought that he might feel unwanted or disliked. You shake your head vehemently. “No, not at all,” you rush to say, your voice soft. “It’s just…you’re so quiet and distant with me. I thought maybe you saw me as a burden, like I was getting in your way or something. So I just, find it better to stay away.”

Heeseung’s brow furrows in confusion, clearly taken aback by your words. He seems to be processing what you said, his mind sifting through memories of the past few weeks. Was he cold to you? He hadn’t thought so but maybe all those times hiding in his room when you were watching TV with Jake, giggling and happy as you both shared inside jokes, or how he purposefully left early to give you time to have a shower without the worry of his presence, gave you an impression he didn’t want to leave.

His eyes search yours as if he’s seeing you for the first time in weeks. You lick your lips nervously, and he notices the way your pupils are blown wide, a hint of want flickering in them. The knowing hits him like a wave, giving him the courage to say what he’s been holding back for so long. Heeseung leans in closer, his lips nearly brushing yours as he speaks, “Do you know why I do that? Keep my distance?”

“Why?” you whisper, your breath hitching.

“Because I’m trying so hard to control myself around you,” he admits, his voice low and rough with desire. The words hang in the air between you, heavy and charged. Before you can fully process them, he presses his body against yours, backing you up until you’re pinned between him and the wall. His spare hand comes up to steady you, fingers splayed across your waist, and you feel the firm, unmistakable press of his member against your stomach.

Your breath catches in your throat, your entire body buzzing with electricity. His gaze is locked on yours, his expression intense and hungry, waiting for any sign of rejection or acceptance from you. When you don’t pull away, his lips curl into a smirk, his fingers tightening their grip on your waist. “You have no idea how hard it’s been,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over yours, “to keep my hands off you.”

You shiver, your body responding to his words in a way that leaves you breathless, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through your veins. “Then don’t,” you murmur, your voice barely audible but carrying all the weight of your desires. Would Sunghoon kill you both for this? Yes. But are you clouded with the thought of getting fucked by the man in front of you? Abso-fucking-lty.

Heeseung’s resolve snaps the moment he catches the glint of desire in your eyes, raw and unmistakable. He doesn’t hesitate; his hand grips your face with a roughness that sends a shiver down your spine, dragging you in as his lips crash into yours with an intensity that’s anything but careful. There’s nothing gentle about it - his kiss is fierce, almost aggressive, fueled by pent-up lust that he’s no longer bothering to control, any thoughts about Sunghoon and his warning gone from his mind.

His mouth moves against yours in a frenzy, urgent and demanding, as if he’s trying to devour you whole. His tongue pushes past your lips, claiming your mouth with a possessiveness that leaves you breathless. He tastes like heat and desperation, and you meet him with equal fervour, your tongues tangling in a messy dance of want. His teeth nip at your bottom lip, tugging slightly, almost punishingly, before his mouth slants over yours again, deeper, harder.

Your hands slide up his torso, fingers skimming over the slight ridges of his abs, and he groans into your mouth, a low, guttural sound that sends a surge of heat straight to your core. You’re clawing at him now, nails digging into his skin as you pull him closer, needing to feel every inch of him. Heeseung’s grip on you tightens, his fingers pressing into your waist with bruising force, anchoring you in place as he pours every ounce of his hunger into the kiss.

He presses his body against yours, his arousal evident as his hips grind into you, the hard length of him pressing insistently against your stomach. He’s not holding back anymore, and the feel of him so close, so ready, only makes you more desperate. You arch into him, letting out a small, breathy moan that seems to spur him on. His lips move to your jaw, biting and sucking a path down to your neck, leaving marks that he knows will linger, and you’re gasping, fingers tangled in his hair as you tug him closer.

“Fuck,” he groans against your neck, his voice thick with need. “You drive me crazy. Do you know that?”

Heeseung’s breathing is ragged, hot against your skin as his mouth trails back up, capturing your lips again in a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth, messy and unrestrained. He shifts his grip, his hands sliding down to your thighs, squeezing them roughly before he hoists you up with ease. Your legs wrap around him, locking tight as he manoeuvres you toward the bedroom you’re currently occupying. The journey is a blur of heated kisses and frantic touches, your nails scraping along his shoulders and arms, urging him on.

He barely pauses as he reaches the bedroom door, booting it open with a forceful kick. The door slams against the wall, but he doesn’t care; he’s too far gone, driven by pure, primal need. With a growl, he tosses you onto the bed, not bothering to be gentle. You bounce slightly on the mattress, the impact sending a rush of adrenaline coursing through you.

Heeseung climbs on top of you, his body pressing you down into the sheets. There’s a wild, almost feral look in his eyes, darkened with lust as he stares down at you. He’s breathing hard, every muscle in his body tense with barely restrained desire, and you can feel the weight of it in the air, thick and charged.

“I need to ruin you,” Heeseung breathes, his voice low, gravelly, and trembling on the edge of a plea and a command. His words are both a question and a demand, and the sheer hunger in his tone sends a shiver coursing through your entire body. “Please, let me ruin you.”

Though he poses the question, he doesn’t give you time to answer; his lips crash into yours with renewed urgency, kissing you with an almost punishing force. It’s all teeth, tongue, and desperation, and you moan into his mouth, matching his intensity, pulling him closer as if you can’t get enough. His hands roam your body with rough, greedy touches, fingers digging into your hips, your waist, everywhere he can reach as if he’s memorising the feel of you under his hands so he can sculpt you out of clay at a later date.

His hips grind into yours, and you gasp at the hard, insistent press of him against your core. Heeseung catches the sound, and his lips curl into a dark, satisfied smirk against your mouth. “God, you’re so needy,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction and barely restrained lust.

Without warning, he grabs the hem of your top, yanking it up and over your head in one swift motion. The fabric catches briefly, but he doesn’t care, he just rips it away, tossing it aside with a growl of impatience. Your bra is next, his fingers hooking under the straps and pulling until the clasp snaps open. He doesn’t bother being gentle, practically tearing it off you, and then he pauses, eyes locked on your bare chest.

“Fuck,” Heeseung breathes, his gaze shamelessly ogling your breasts, drinking in the sight of you with a hunger that makes your heart race. “You’re perfect.” The way he looks at you - like he’s starving and you’re the only thing that can satisfy him - makes heat pool low in your belly.

Before you can respond, he lowers his mouth, capturing one of your nipples between his lips with a sudden, rough intensity. His tongue flicks against the sensitive bud, hot and wet, before he sucks hard, drawing a gasp from your throat as your back arches instinctively. The contrast between the softness of his lips, the roughness of his tongue, and the sharp bite of his teeth has you moaning his name, each sensation driving you wild.

“Heeseung, fuck-” you gasp, your voice breaking as he switches between sucking, licking, and lightly nipping at your sensitive skin. Each movement sends jolts of pleasure through your body, making you buck your hips up into his, desperate for more friction, more of him, everywhere.

Heeseung’s free hand slides down your body, fingers trailing over your heated skin, teasing the waistband of your pants before slipping beneath. His touch is bold, impatient, and he doesn’t waste time, finding your folds with practised ease. The moment his fingers make contact, you both let out a sharp gasp. You’re wet, slick with arousal, and the feel of you against his fingers is enough to make him groan low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your nipple as he continues to work you with his mouth.

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice a rough, breathless whisper. “All this for me?”

His fingers dip into your folds, sliding through your slickness with an agonizingly slow, deliberate motion that leaves you breathless. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and anticipation, and you can feel the heat building, your core tightening as his fingers tease your entrance. Heeseung’s thumb brushes over your clit, drawing a strangled moan from your lips, and he groans in response, the sound low and primal.

He keeps one nipple in his mouth, sucking hard as he slowly pushes a finger inside you, feeling you stretch and clench around him. You’re so tight, so hot, and the feeling of his finger sliding in and out, curling to hit that perfect spot, has your hips bucking wildly against his hand. The combined sensation of his mouth tugging on your sensitive nipple and his fingers pumping into you is almost too much to bear.

“Heeseung, please,” you whimper, your hands fisting the sheets as you grind against his fingers, needing more, needing everything. The relentless rhythm of his fingers, the way his tongue circles and flicks your nipple, has you on the edge, your entire body buzzing with electric heat.

Heeseung’s teeth graze your nipple, biting down just enough to send a shockwave of pleasure and pain through you, and you cry out, hips jerking up as your body seeks more contact, more friction. “You like that?” he rasps, his voice thick with need. “The way I’m making you feel?”

All you can do is moan in response, every nerve in your body alight with the need to be filled, touched, consumed. His fingers slide deeper, curling against your most sensitive spot, and he pulls your nipple with his teeth, sending a fresh wave of ecstasy crashing through you. It’s raw, it’s overwhelming, and you can feel yourself unravelling under his touch, driven by the pure, primal lust that courses between you both.

"Please, Heeseung, faster..." you moan breathlessly, your voice breaking with need as your eyes flutter shut. You let yourself drown in the sensations, feeling every curl of his fingers inside of you, the way they press and drag against your walls with deliberate precision. The pleasure is dizzying, your body tensing and writhing in rhythm with each thrust of his hand.

Heeseung’s mouth finally detaches from your nipple, the cool air against your wet skin sending a shiver through you as he brings his face up, so close that his breath fans over your lips. His eyes are dark, charged with lust and something almost predatory, and the sight only fuels the fire burning inside you. “Can you handle it, angel?” he asks, his tone laced with a teasing mockery that makes your skin prickle.

“Yeah...” you pant, shamelessly meeting his gaze, a wild smile spreading across your face. “Go as rough as you want. You wanted to ruin me, right?”

It’s a challenge, and one he’s more than willing to accept. Heeseung’s expression shifts instantly, his entire demeanour hardening with a new, unrestrained intensity. His fingers move faster, plunging into you with renewed vigour as his thumb finds your clit, circling it in tight, relentless motions that have your thighs trembling. The sudden increase in pace sends your senses spiralling, your body arching up to meet every thrust, every swipe of his thumb against your swollen bud. It’s as if you’re floating, weightless, caught in a whirlwind of pure, unfiltered pleasure.

You can’t control the way your body moves with his hand, chasing the friction, the overwhelming heat that’s building in your core. Nothing is enough; you need more, need him deeper, harder, faster. Heeseung notices your desperation, the way you’re writhing beneath him, your hips rolling and grinding into his touch, and he smirks, a dark and knowing look flashing in his eyes.

“You’re such a greedy little slut, aren’t you?” he scoffs, his tone mocking but laced with the kind of filthy affection that makes your entire body quiver. The words send a shock of heat straight through you, and you can’t help the loud, unabashed moan that escapes your lips. His fingers curl inside you, pressing into the perfect spot, and your entire body convulses, thighs trembling as his touch sends you higher.

“Heeseung!” you mewl, your voice breaking in pure happiness, pleasure dancing through your veins. The way his fingers stretch you, three of them now pushing inside, filling you, twisting and curling as his thumb continues to work your clit, is mind-numbing. The steady, relentless pace of his movements combined with the filthy words pouring from his mouth has you seeing stars.

“Oh, you like being called a slut, huh?” Heeseung taunts, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction as he watches you unravel beneath him. Your response, the way your body responds to his every touch and word, only spurs him on, feeding into the raw, carnal energy between you.

Heeseung leans down, his lips brushing against your ear, so close that you can feel every word as he whispers them. His teeth sink into your earlobe, rough and possessive, and the sharp sting makes you yelp, the sound quickly dissolving into a breathy moan. “What if I started calling you my pretty slut, huh?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous, dripping with ownership.

The words hit you like a wave, crashing over you with an intensity that sends a fresh rush of arousal pooling between your thighs. You feel it, slick and hot, running past his fingers and down your ass cheek, coating you in the evidence of just how much you want this, how much you want him. 

“God, Heeseung,” you gasp, your hips bucking wildly against his hand, desperate and unashamed. His fingers pump into you faster, curling with each thrust, hitting all the right spots that make your mind go blank. You’re lost in the overwhelming sensation, every nerve alight with the tight, twisting pleasure that coils inside you, winding tighter and tighter until you’re right on the edge, ready to snap.

“You’re soaking me,” he teases, his voice low and rough, edged with dark amusement as he feels the fresh wave of arousal coating his fingers. “You really do like being called mine, don’t you?”

Your body answers him before you do, your back arching, and you nod eagerly, biting your lip to suppress the needy moans that threaten to spill out. You’re so close, so achingly close to that release, the familiar knot of pleasure inside you tightening with each movement of his hand. But just as you’re about to tip over the edge, Heeseung shifts his body, his fingers slowing down, easing up on their relentless pace, and the knot inside you begins to unravel, pulling you back from the brink.

Your eyes snap open, frustration flashing across your face as Heeseung shakes his head, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips. “You need to use your words, or else I’ll stop,” he warns, his tone firm and commanding. “Understand?”

You go to nod again, but before you can, Heeseung withdraws his thumb from your clit and presses his palm flat against it instead, the sudden change making you cry out. The weight of his hand on your sensitive nub sends jolts of pleasure sparking through you, but it’s not enough - it's maddeningly close, yet just shy of the friction you need. You try to move, to grind against his palm, but Heeseung holds you down, his strength keeping your hips pinned as he presses his hand more firmly against your pulsing clit.

The rough texture of his skin brushing against your sensitive flesh without the full contact you crave is enough to make you squirm in frustration. You look up at him, your eyes pleading, but Heeseung’s gaze is expectant, patient, and utterly dominant as he watches you, waiting for you to obey him.

“Fuck, yes, yes! I’ll use my words,” you gasp, your voice high and trembling with need. You’re teetering on the brink of losing control, and the need to reach your peak overrides every ounce of pride. “Now please, Heeseung, make me cum.”

Heeseung’s smirk widens, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he hears you beg, your desperation feeding his ego. “See? Was that so hard?” he mocks, his voice dripping with playful arrogance. His fingers resume their movement, thrusting into you with renewed vigour, but this time there’s no hesitation, no teasing. He’s relentless, driving his fingers deep and fast, scissoring and curling them just right, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust.

His thumb returns to your clit, circling with precise, punishing speed, and the friction is immediate and overwhelming. The knot inside you tightens rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter until it’s a white-hot ball of pleasure, ready to explode. Your entire body moves in sync with his hand, hips rolling and grinding as you chase the friction, the pleasure building to an unbearable intensity.

“God, yes, Heeseung!” you cry out, your voice breaking as you feel yourself tipping over the edge. Your walls clamp down around his fingers, the pressure inside you reaching its peak. Heeseung watches you with a fierce, unyielding intensity, his eyes never leaving your face as he works you over that final threshold.

“That’s it,” he groans, his voice thick with satisfaction as he feels you tightening around him, your entire body trembling. “Let go for me. Cum for me, pretty girl.”

His words are the final push you need, and you shatter, pleasure ripping through you in powerful, uncontrollable waves. Your vision blurs and your entire body tenses as you cum hard around his fingers, each pulse sending shockwaves of bliss through your veins. Heeseung doesn’t let up, his fingers continuing their relentless pace, drawing out every ounce of your climax until you’re a trembling, moaning mess beneath him.

You’re barely aware of anything but the overwhelming sensation as your orgasm crashes over you, drowning out everything else. The tight coil of pleasure finally snaps, leaving you gasping and spent, your body still twitching in the aftermath as Heeseung slows his movements, easing you down gently from your high.

You’re left panting, completely undone, and Heeseung’s gaze remains fixed on you, his eyes dark and full of pride. He pulls his fingers out slowly, savouring the way you shudder at the loss, and he smirks, bringing them up to his lips. Heeseung licks them clean, humming in satisfaction at the taste of you, and the sight is enough to send another shiver down your spine.

“You did so well,” Heeseung murmurs, his voice thick with a twisted mix of pride and possessiveness. His lips capture yours in a kiss that's slower now but still burning with heat, and you melt into it, savoring the lingering buzz of your orgasm coursing through you. His mouth is unyielding against yours, claiming, almost as if he’s staking his territory on your lips. He pulls back, his forehead pressed against yours, eyes hooded and dark. “But we aren’t done,” he growls, the words dripping with intent that sends a fresh pulse of arousal through your core.

Heeseung's hands are on you instantly, grabbing the waistband of your bottoms and yanking them down, taking your underwear along in one swift, almost impatient motion. There’s no care in the way he tosses them aside, as if the only thing that matters is having you bare and exposed in front of him. The cool air hits your damp skin, and you shiver, every nerve ending alight as you lie there completely vulnerable under his predatory gaze.

Heeseung’s eyes roam over you, dark and hungry, lingering on every curve, every inch of your flushed skin. There’s a flicker of something wild in his expression, something that makes your heart race as he drinks in the sight of you. His hands move to his own waist, dipping into his grey sweats, and he pushes them down, revealing himself inch by agonizing inch. When his cock finally springs free, you can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips.

He’s even more than you imagined - thick, veined, and curving up just right, flushed a deep, enticing pink that makes your mouth water. At least seven inches, standing proud and heavy against his stomach, and the sight alone has your thighs clenching with anticipation. You can almost feel it already, dragging against your walls, filling you so perfectly that your empty core aches in response.

Heeseung notices the way your eyes are glued to him, the shameless hunger written all over your face, and his lips curl into a wicked smirk. “Like what you see, huh?” he taunts, his tone low and laced with mocking arrogance as he wraps a hand around his length, stroking himself slowly. His cock twitches in his grip, precum beading at the tip and dribbling down, and the sight makes your breath hitch.

“Heeseung,” you whimper, your voice filled with desperate need. You’re aching to feel him inside you, to have that perfect thickness stretching you open, but Heeseung doesn’t move, content to watch you squirm. Your hips shift on the bed, trying to relieve the unbearable emptiness, but he just tightens his grip on his cock, refusing to give you what you so clearly crave.

“You’re fucking shameless,” he mocks, his voice dripping with condescension. He runs the head of his cock teasingly through your slick folds, not quite pushing in, just enough to make you shiver. “Dripping all over my cock.”

You shudder, the tip of him nudging against your entrance, teasing but not quite entering, and it’s maddening. “Please, Heeseung, fucking move,” you beg, barely able to keep your voice steady. Your hands fly to his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, but he doesn’t budge, relishing every second of your desperation.

“What’s the rush, huh?” he says, feigning innocence, though his voice is edged with a dark, sadistic thrill. “Thought you wanted me to ruin you?”

His words hang in the air, taunting, and your body responds on instinct, your hips bucking up, trying to force him deeper. Heeseung lets you feel the head of his cock press in just a little more, but then he pulls back, chuckling darkly as you whine in frustration. The teasing is almost too much, and the smirk on his face tells you he’s enjoying every second of your torment.

“Fuck, please,” you plead, every ounce of pride gone, replaced by pure, unfiltered need. “I need it so bad, Heeseung.”

Finally, he seems satisfied, and his smirk fades into something darker, more feral. “That’s more like it,” he growls, and in one smooth motion, he pushes forward, his cock sinking into you inch by agonising inch. The stretch is perfect, your walls clenching around him as he fills you completely, and you gasp, overwhelmed by the sensation of him dragging against your insides.

Heeseung doesn’t wait - doesn’t give you time to adjust. He pulls back and slams into you again, the force making the bed creak and your breath hitch. It’s rough and relentless, the curve of his cock hitting all the right spots, and you can’t help the cry that escapes your lips. Your nails dig into his back, trying to anchor yourself, but Heeseung is unyielding, setting a punishing rhythm that leaves you breathless.

“Look at you,” he pants, his voice rough and laced with mockery as he watches you unravel beneath him. “So fucking desperate. How long have you wanted this?”

His words make you clench tighter around him, your body responding to his taunts in a way that makes your cheeks burn with a mix of shame and arousal. Heeseung notices, and he chuckles, low and dark, leaning in close enough that his breath brushes your ear.

“Tell me,” he growls, his tone edged with a threat that sends a thrill of anticipation through you. “Use those words, or I’ll get them out of you.”

A wicked idea sparks in your mind, and instead of answering, you clamp your mouth shut, biting down on your lip to keep any sounds from escaping. You look up at him, eyes gleaming with defiance and smirk. The challenge in your gaze is unmistakable, and you see something dark and feral flicker in Heeseung’s eyes as he realizes what you’re doing.

Heeseung loves submissive partners - loves when they give in to him completely. But there’s something about a brat, something about the way they fight back, that lets him unleash everything he’s got. And the way you’re looking at him now, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg, makes his blood pump with a mixture of lust and exhilaration.

“Oh, you want to play like that?” he snarls, the dangerous edge in his voice making your heart race. Without warning, his hand moves up to your throat, his fingers wrapping around your neck with an almost brutal grip. His hand is big, easily encompassing your throat, and the pressure he applies makes his veins pop, the sight of them making your breath hitch.

Heeseung squeezes, and your airways constrict, your eyes widening as you feel the breath leaving your lungs. “You’re gonna want to gasp for air soon,” he taunts, his voice a low, menacing rumble that sends a fresh wave of arousal pooling in your core.

The lack of air combined with the relentless thrust of his cock deep inside you creates a dizzying, intoxicating sensation. Your brain starts to feel lighter, like you’re floating, and the world around you blurs as the pressure in your throat increases. You can still breathe—just barely - but the tiny gasps you manage through your nose aren’t enough, leaving you light-headed and playing a dangerous game.

And fuck, do you love it.

Heeseung’s grip tightens even more, cutting off your air completely, and your body thrums with a heady mix of fear and arousal. You’re drowning in the feeling of him everywhere - his cock driving into you, his hand choking the life out of you, and the overwhelming intensity of it all sends you spiralling into a blissful, euphoric state.

Your body goes slack beneath him, every muscle relaxed as you give in to the sensation, the lack of oxygen making everything else sharper, more intense. Your vision starts to blur at the edges, darkness creeping in, but you hold onto the pleasure, focusing on the way his cock drags against your walls, filling you so perfectly that it almost hurts.

Heeseung watches you closely, the way your lips part in a desperate attempt to take in air, the way your eyes flutter shut as you lose yourself in the haze. He knows you’re close, knows that the combination of his rough treatment and the lack of air is pushing you to your limit.

“God, you’re such a greedy little slut,” he hisses, thrusting harder, and you arch up into him, every nerve ending buzzing with electric pleasure. “Can’t get enough, can you?”

You’re too far gone to respond, too caught up in the overwhelming sensation of him pounding into you, each thrust rougher than the last. Your mind is hazy, clouded with lust, and all you can do is moan his name, your body moving instinctively to meet his every thrust.

Heeseung’s grip loosens from your throat, and you suck in a desperate gasp of air, your lungs burning with the sudden rush of oxygen. The pace of his thrusts is relentless, brutal, and all-consuming, driving you closer and closer to the precipice. Your world is reduced to the slick, punishing rhythm of his cock inside you, the tight coil in your stomach winding impossibly tight. You’re so close, teetering on the edge of blissful oblivion, when Heeseung’s voice cuts through the haze.

“Fuck, you’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?” he taunts, his tone ragged and dripping with sadistic pleasure. “Do it. Cum for me, and let everyone know how much you love getting fucked like this.”

As if by magic, Heeseung’s words come to fruition and as the last word leaves his mouth, Jake is standing frozen in the doorway, his expression a mix of shock and something heat-provoking. He shouldn’t be here - shouldn’t be seeing this - but there’s no stopping himself, the way his eyes linger on you, on the way your body arches and moves under Heeseung’s control. His jaw is slack, lips slightly parted as he struggles to process the scene in front of him, but he can’t hide the lust in his gaze, the unmistakable arousal that flares as he hears the sounds of your moans echoing through the room.

Heeseung notices Jake almost instantly, his rhythm never faltering. Instead of shouting at him to get out or shielding you from Jake’s gaze, Heeseung smirks, his lips curling into something wicked and taunting. He rolls his hips into you once more, and you cry out, lost in the sensation and unaware of the unexpected visitor.

“Jake,” Heeseung calls out, his voice dripping with arrogance and something like amusement. He gestures with a nod of his head. “Come here. She’s a handful.”

Jake hesitates only for a moment, clearly dazed by the invitation and the surreal reality of the situation. But then, as if drawn by some invisible force, he steps inside, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click. He moves to the side of the bed, eyes flickering between you and Heeseung, still trying to wrap his head around what’s happening.

You see him then, and the shame washes over you like ice water, your impending orgasm slipping away in the heat of the moment as you flush red for a different reason. You instinctively try to cover yourself, hands moving up to shield your chest, but Heeseung’s grip is ironclad and he catches your jaw with a firm, possessive hold, forcing your gaze back to his.

“Don’t be embarrassed, angel,” Heeseung murmurs, leaning down so only you can hear, his hips slowing just enough to make your frustration mount. “You want him, don’t you? I see the way you look at him when he calls you pretty names.”

You can’t deny it - the truth in his words makes your core tighten, clenching around nothing as you imagine Jake’s touch, the thought of both of them overwhelming you. You’ve craved this in the darkest corners of your mind, and now, with Jake standing there watching you, your desire is laid bare.

“Yes…please, I want him,” you confess, voice trembling with need and a hint of shame.

Heeseung’s smirk widens, his expression turning mocking and cruel. “See? I knew a slut like you couldn’t be satisfied with just one cock.” His hand comes down in a light but sharp slap across your cheek, and you gasp, the sting mingling with pleasure that leaves you breathless.

Jake’s eyes darken at the action, flickering with concern at the derogatory name and the harshness of Heeseung’s treatment. But then he sees the way you smile up at them, your expression dazed and blissful, a spark of euphoria igniting in your gaze that tells him all he needs to know. You want this. You want to be used, claimed, and taken by both of them. Harshly and roughly.

Brushing his fingers along the mark on your cheek, Jake soothes the pain. His touch is warm and careful, but there’s a hunger behind it, a dark intensity in his eyes that makes your pulse quicken. He looks down at you, his expression a mixture of adoration but menacing intent.

“Our pretty girl,” Jake murmurs, his voice low and velvety, tinged with a heat that sends a shiver down your spine. “Who knew you were so filthy?”

Heeseung’s gaze snaps to Jake, his possessiveness flaring instantly. “My pretty girl,” he corrects sharply, his tone dripping with dominance and a clear line of ownership. “You’re just here to help out.” Heeseung’s words are a clear warning, a statement of his claim over you, even in this shared moment. He’s willing to let Jake in because it’s what you crave, but he won’t let anyone - especially not Jake - forget who you truly belong to.

Now that he has you, he’s never letting you go. Not Jake nor Sunghoon is taking you away from him.

Jake’s eyes flash with understanding and he nods slightly, accepting Heeseung’s terms even if he isn’t too happy about it. You’re beautiful in every way and he would want nothing more than to call you his, but he knows about Heeseung’s fascination with you.

Jake has seen all the times Heeseung walks out of the room when you’re getting too close to one another. At first, he thought it was to give you and Jake alone time, but with every slam of a door or huff, he soon realised that Heeseung was in fact jealous and couldn’t bear to see the sight of you curled up with someone who wasn’t him. It doesn’t help that you’ve never been close to Heeseung the way you are Jake, but the Aussie blames that on his friend’s lack of initiative. 

Clearly, he finally took the initiative by the looks of his cock ramming into you sharply.  So, Jake takes this opportunity, if it’s between one night of sharing you, or not at all, he’s taking the first option. 

Heeseung’s grip on your jaw tightens just a fraction, and he leans in, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re mine, angel. Always.” His eyes flicker to Jake, silently reminding him of the rules, before focusing back on you, his thrusts picking up speed again, driving into you with a new found vigour.

Your grip on the bedsheets tightens as you brace yourself, the soft fabric bunched between your fingers, knuckles turning white as you thrash beneath Heeseung. You’re barely aware of Jake watching every moment, every reaction—none of it matters anymore. The thick, pulsing drag of Heeseung’s cock has you keening, the heavy, relentless throb of his tip pressing against your walls with every hard thrust sending you spiraling into a delirium of pleasure.

The intensity of it all - the way Heeseung fills you so completely, the way his hips drive into you with a brutal, punishing rhythm - pushes you closer and closer to the edge. As your second orgasm builds, white-hot and all-consuming, it’s too much, almost unbearable. You instinctively try to pull away, shifting your hips back to gain even the slightest bit of relief. But Heeseung is quicker, his hands clamp down on your hips with a bruising grip, fingers digging into your skin.

"Don’t you fucking dare," he growls, his tone laced with anger and something darker, like the mere thought of you taking yourself away from him is the worst kind of betrayal. His gaze is wild, his brow furrowed with barely contained frustration, and it’s clear there’s a flip switch inside him - something more aggressive, more dominant than you’ve ever seen.

A sharp slap lands on your cheek, harder than before, the sting blooming hot across your skin and sending a shock straight to your core. “Don’t run away from what you want,” Heeseung hisses through clenched teeth, his thrusts not slowing for even a second. The sting mixes with the pleasure, and you feel yourself clenching around him, torn between pain and desire. You know you’ve pushed him over the edge, coaxed him into this rough, untamed version of himself, and you revel in it, loving the back and forth, the give and take of control.

“Jake, hold her arms,” Heeseung commands, his voice sharp and demanding, finally bringing Jake fully into the mix.

Jake’s hands are on you immediately, rough and firm as he yanks your arms above your head, pinning your wrists against the mattress. He pulls you slightly, stretching you out and arching your back off the bed. The new angle sends you reeling, Heeseung’s cock hitting deeper, impossibly so, opening you up in a way that has you gasping for breath. You’re splayed out before them, exposed and vulnerable, and the combination of Jake’s tight grip and Heeseung’s punishing pace leaves you completely at their mercy.

Heeseung’s thumb finds your clit again, pressing down with just enough force to make you cry out. “You’re going to cum for me,” he growls, voice rough and dripping with command. His hips snap against yours, relentless and punishing, and his thumb moves with practised precision, rubbing tight, fast circles that have you teetering on the brink of ecstasy.

Your vision blurs and all you can feel is the overwhelming pressure inside you, the knot in your stomach that has been pulled to it’s limits finally snaps with blinding intensity. You scream out, your entire body tensing as the orgasm crashes over you in violent, shuddering waves. It’s all too much, your body convulsing uncontrollably as Heeseung keeps driving into you, his thumb never relenting on your clit, prolonging your pleasure until you’re nearly sobbing from the sheer intensity of it.

Heeseung doesn’t let up, his pace unyielding, fucking you through your climax with a savage determination. Your slick walls clamp down around him, spasming with every drag of his cock, and he lets out a strangled groan, his control slipping as he chases his release. You’re lost to the sensation, barely able to form coherent thoughts as your climax drags on, each wave cresting higher than the last until you’re left shaking and spent beneath him.

“Fuck, Heeseung,” you cry out breathlessly, the desperate need in your voice undeniable. “Cum inside me, please, please, please.” You’re beyond humiliation now, too lost in the heat of it all to care about anything but the aching emptiness you feel whenever he’s not filling you.

But just as you plead, Heeseung pulls out, the sudden emptiness leaving you whimpering and clenching around nothing. The slick, wet sound of him slipping free echoes in the room, and he fists his cock, pumping it with fast, urgent strokes. His chest heaves, muscles taut and glistening with sweat as he works himself to the brink, his grip on you tightening with every jerk of his wrist. The sight of him above you - his face twisted in pleasure, his eyes wild and unfocused - is enough to make you ache with need all over again.

With a low, guttural groan, Heeseung spills over you, thick ropes of cum painting your stomach and chest, marking you his territory. The heat of it hits your skin, and you watch as he works himself through the last pulses of his release, his jaw clenched and his body trembling. Heeseung’s chest rises and falls heavily, his breaths ragged as he lets go, the last of his cum splattering across your body. He leans back, admiring the mess he’s made, his cock still twitching in his hand as he slowly comes down from his high.

“You need to behave if you want my cum, angel,” Heeseung says, his voice low and mocking, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips as he looks down at you. His thumb brushes over the sticky mess on your skin, smearing it just to make a point. You shiver, the ache and desire mixing into something intoxicating, and you know this won’t be the last time you push him like this - because the way Heeseung loses control when he’s with you is something you’ll never get enough of.

Jake’s grip loosens slightly, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles over your wrists, soothing the faint ache left behind by his earlier roughness. His touch is a stark contrast to the raw intensity of everything that’s just happened, but his eyes tell a different story - dark, hungry, and locked onto you with an unwavering focus. His gaze travels over your body, lingering on the mess Heeseung left on your stomach, your heaving chest, and the subtle, involuntary shake of your legs. You’re a beautiful wreck, panting softly, your entire body still humming with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and Jake can’t help but be mesmerized by the sight.

Heeseung notices the way Jake’s expression shifts, the unmistakable desire written all over his face. “You want to clean her up?” Heeseung’s voice drips with amusement, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watches his friend’s restraint begin to crack. Heeseung’s fingers dip between your folds, collecting some of your slick before he brings his digits to his mouth, savouring the taste with a low, satisfied moan. “She’s fucking delicious.”

The taste of you floods Jake’s senses, and he loses himself in the moment, the sweet and salty blend of your release making his eyes flutter shut as he dives in deeper. He works his tongue expertly, slipping between your folds and circling your swollen clit before dipping down to explore your entrance, lapping up every drop of your arousal with an insatiable hunger. 

Jake doesn’t need any more encouragement. An avid pussy eater, he’s practically salivating at the opportunity, his lips curling into a smile as he bites down on his lower lip. He moves swiftly, coming around the bed to position himself between your trembling thighs. Heeseung steps back, giving him space, though his watchful eyes never leave you. Jake starts slow, his tongue darting out to deliver soft kitten licks against your sensitive folds.

His touch is featherlight at first, a teasing exploration that makes your body jolt with renewed need. You can’t help but arch into him, your hands tangling in his hair as you pull him closer, seeking more, silently begging for him to go faster.

You’re lost to the pleasure, moaning and grinding against his mouth, and Jake takes it all in stride, responding to every twitch and pull of your body as he picks up the pace, his lips and tongue moving in perfect rhythm. He feasts on you like you’re the only thing that matters, each flick and swirl sending jolts of pleasure through your already overstimulated core.

Heeseung watches the scene unfold, his jaw clenched as he listens to your moans. Jake’s face is buried between your legs, and it’s clear from the way your back arches and your thighs tighten around his head that he’s damn good at what he’s doing. Heeseung can’t deny the jealousy simmering beneath his calm exterior. As much as he loves seeing you fall apart, he wants to be the one pulling those sounds from you, the one making you lose control.

Dragging his fingers along your torso, Heeseung collects some of the sticky mess he left on your skin, his cum still warm and glistening. “Open up, angel,” he orders, his voice laced with menace. You’re too far gone, drowning in the sensations Jake is giving you, but you obey without question, parting your lips wide and waiting with your tongue out like a perfect little submissive.

Heeseung pushes his fingers into your mouth, letting the salty tang of his cum coat your tongue. “Suck,” he commands, and you comply immediately, hollowing your cheeks around his fingers and drawing them in deeper. You swirl your tongue over his digits, tasting every drop, your eyes fluttering shut as you lose yourself in the bitter and intoxicating mix of him. 

Watching you intently, Heeseung is mesmerised by the sight of you sucking so eagerly, his fingers slick with your saliva and his cum. He pushes in further, teasing the back of your throat, feeling the soft gag that makes you whimper around him, desperate and wanting more.

Meanwhile, Jake is completely absorbed in his own task, his tongue working tirelessly as he devours you. His nose brushing against your mound, his lips and tongue moving in tandem as he dips deeper, swirling his tongue inside your stretched, pulsing hole. You can feel every stroke, every flick, and it’s driving you mad, the pleasure so intense it has you bucking your hips against his face, searching for every ounce of friction you can get.

Watching you writhe and moan, Heeseung feels something shift within him. There’s a flicker of fondness, something warm and possessive that cuts through his dominant facade, just for a miniscule of a second. He wants every piece of himself inside you, to claim you in ways that go beyond just the physical but he pushes it down quickly, promising himself he’ll come back to that once he’s done with you here. He needs to give you everything you want at this moment, and that isn’t tender touches and soft kisses.

Pushing your jaw down with his fingers against your tongue, Heeseung pries you open just a fraction wider. He leans in close, his eyes dark and intense, and without warning, he spits into your mouth, the warm liquid mixing with the mess on your tongue. “Swallow,” he says, his voice low and commanding. You do as you’re told, choking back a swallow even with his fingers still invading your mouth, feeling the weight of his spit mix with everything else, and the act itself only heightens the filthy pleasure coursing through you. You’ve never felt so wanted, so owned, and it’s everything you’ve ever craved.

Jake keeps his pace, and Heeseung watches with a mix of satisfaction and jealousy, knowing that while Jake might get to taste you, it’s Heeseung’s name that you’re whispering, it’s Heeseung who’s truly claimed you. But he can’t let Jake have all the fun down there.

Watching the way Jake devours you, his mouth slick and greedy against your pussy, his jealousy flares up even as he feels the rush of satisfaction at seeing you come undone. He wants to feel you trembling beneath his tongue, taste you again as you unravel. 

Withdrawing his fingers from your mouth, Heeseung moves to join Jake, his presence commanding as he circles to where the younger boy is still lost in you.

Jake’s head lifts just slightly when he feels Heeseung’s proximity, eyes narrowing in playful defensiveness. “No way, man, you ain’t taking over,” he mutters, his voice breathless, lips glistening with your slick. Heeseung simply rolls his eyes, unfazed by the challenge. 

Instead of pushing Jake away, Heeseung moves in closer, nudging Jake just enough to the side so that they both have room to work. “She said she wanted both of us,” Heeseung smirks, his tone smug and self-assured. “I’m just giving her what she wants.”

Jake, still high on the taste of you, nods in agreement, accepting Heeseung’s presence beside him. As long as he gets to keep his mouth on you, keep drawing those sweet, desperate sounds from your lips, he’s willing to share the space. Heeseung’s head dips down beside Jake’s, and the two of them work in perfect, sinful harmony, their mouths colliding as they lick and suck at your folds, both eager to claim their share of you. Their noses brush against each other, their breath mingling in heated puffs as they take turns devouring you, neither willing to give up the spot.

The sensation is overwhelming - two mouths on you at once, tongues weaving over one another, sometimes colliding and sometimes complementing, creating a dizzying, chaotic rhythm that has you seeing stars. Heeseung’s tongue is precise and teasing, swirling around your clit with practised ease, while Jake’s is more fervent, desperate and hungry as he licks broad, eager strokes from your entrance up to the sensitive bundle of nerves Heeseung is working on. The way their tongues dance over each other sends electric shocks up your spine; it’s hot and heavy, a messy, wet collision of pleasure that makes your entire body hum. 

This is truly what dreams are made of.

Every lick, every flick of their tongues against your swollen clit and dripping folds sends you spiralling closer to the edge. Jake’s hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh as he holds you open for both of them. Heeseung’s tongue dips lower, tasting you deeply, swirling inside your entrance before flicking back up to meet Jake’s. They take turns teasing you, their movements synchronised in a wicked, unspoken dance that leaves you gasping and writhing. It’s filthy and intimate, the feel of their mouths and their rough, needy breaths making your skin burn with want.

You can’t take it anymore. The coil inside you tightens with a force that’s almost painful, your third orgasm approaching with a relentless, ferocious speed. You try to hold on, try to prolong the moment, but it’s useless; the dual sensation of their mouths on you, the way their tongues move and taste you, has you spinning out of control. Your fingers claw at the sheets before finding purchase in their hair, grabbing onto both of them as your hips buck wildly.

“I’m cumming - fuck, I’m cumming!” you scream, your voice breaking, your entire body seizing as the orgasm rips through you with blinding intensity. The release is violent and all-consuming, your juices flooding their mouths as you squirt, your thighs shaking uncontrollably. 

Your release is powerful and sudden, a gush of warm, clear fluid spraying from your core in rhythmic pulses, splashing against their faces and dripping down your thighs. The sensation is unlike anything you’ve felt—wild and uncontrolled, your entire body shaking as you let go completely.

Both Heeseung and Jake are caught in the torrent, and they react instantly, their mouths wide open and eager to catch every drop. Jake groans, eyes squeezed shut as your release coats his lips, chin, and cheeks, his tongue flicking out desperately to catch the taste of you. He presses his face closer, unashamedly drinking you in, his movements more frantic as he swallows your essence, the wet sound of his slurping mixing with your breathless cries.

Heeseung, on the other hand, keeps his mouth firmly on your clit, feeling the rush of your squirt spray against him as he sucks and flicks over your swollen nub. The force of your orgasm sends jets of your wetness splashing against his lips, some of it dripping messily down his neck. His eyes stay fixed on you, half-lidded and dark with lust, groaning in satisfaction as he devours you, tongue flicking at your sensitive clit even as you tremble and buck from the intensity of it all.

The way they’re lapping at you, hungry and relentless, only prolongs your squirting, your body giving everything it has as you flood their mouths with your release. Your thighs quiver violently around their heads, your back arching off the bed as the last spurts drench their faces and mix with the slick heat of their tongues. You can feel it everywhere - your release dripping down, soaking into the sheets, and covering their skin. It’s filthy, raw, and utterly electrifying, leaving you gasping and trembling as the final shudders of your climax ebb away.

Laying there, you gaze up at the ceiling, overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude for everything that has transpired. This is beyond anything you’ve ever imagined, a blissful euphoria that washes over you in waves. As you replay the events in your mind, you realize just how perfectly everything fell into place. If you or Heeseung had acted on this sooner, there’s no telling if Jake would be here with you now, completing this experience in a way you never expected. Timing really is everything.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely register Heeseung’s strong hands pulling at your arm, coaxing you into a sitting position. Your body feels limp, heavy with the aftershocks of your intense climax, but Heeseung is persistent, supporting your weight as he brings you upright. His warm breath tickles your ear as he whispers, “You’ve made such a mess, angel.” His voice is low and teasing, sending shivers down your spine. He nods towards Jake, who stands by the bed, his face and chest drenched in your release. “Your slutty little act got Jake soaked. You better get him out of those clothes, huh?”

Jake’s eyes light up at Heeseung’s words, a mix of excitement and disbelief crossing his features. He had half-expected Heeseung to kick him out after what just happened, but the realization that this night is far from over fills him with eager anticipation. Heeseung's possessiveness is still palpable, but there’s a clear invitation in his words—a chance for Jake to fully join in.

Despite the fatigue settling into your limbs, a satisfied smile tugs at your lips. You nod in agreement, knowing that as spent as you are, the hunger for more is still burning inside you. Heeseung was right - you are a lot to handle, and you love it.

Jake’s cock stands proudly before you, a little shorter but thicker than Heeseung’s, veins bulging along its length, and the tip flushed a deep pink. It throbs with anticipation, precum already beading at the slit, and your mouth waters at the sight. You glance up at Jake, who’s watching you with hooded eyes, his chest rising and falling with quickened breaths.

Gathering the last of your energy, you crawl to the edge of the bed where Jake is standing. His t-shirt clings to his skin, wet and sticky from your release, and you peel it away from his body, revealing his toned chest beneath. The fabric resists slightly, almost glued to him, but you tug it off, discarding it carelessly to the side. Your fingers move to his jeans, deftly unbuttoning them and pulling down the zipper, feeling the weight of his arousal straining against the denim.

As you tug his jeans down, you can’t help but notice how his cock springs free, heavy and thick, even shorter than Heeseung’s, but undeniably tempting.

Heeseung moves behind you, his hands massaging your shoulders, his touch firm yet soothing. “Go on, angel,” he purrs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Suck his cock like the slut you are. Make him nice and hard.” His tongue flicks out, tracing the curve of your ear before he bites your lobe, a low growl rumbling in his throat. His voice drops to a menacing whisper, a warning laced with dominance. “Remember, you’re mine. Don’t let him cum in your mouth, or I’ll make sure you never get a drop of mine. Got it?”

The thought of Heeseung’s cum buried deep inside you sends a fresh wave of longing through your body, the ache intensifying at the reminder that he denied you earlier. You whine softly, desperate to please, knowing that you’ll do anything to earn that reward.

You start slow, your hand wrapping around the base of Jake’s cock, feeling the thick, pulsing heat in your palm. Your tongue darts out, flicking over the tip to taste the salty precum gathered there, and Jake’s breath hitches, his hips twitching forward slightly. You take him into your mouth, your lips wrapping around the head, sucking gently as you inch down his length. The taste of him fills your mouth, and you hum in satisfaction, the vibration making Jake groan above you.

Jake’s reaction only spurs you on. You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as you bob your head, creating a wet, slurping sound that fills the room. Your tongue swirls around his shaft, tracing the thick veins and teasing the sensitive underside, making him moan low and deep, his hands fisting in the sheets. The way he reacts to you—his breathless gasps, the way his hips jerk forward uncontrollably—fuels your desire, making you suck harder, faster, wanting to see him unravel.

Heeseung watches you with dark, hungry eyes, his own arousal reigniting as he takes in the sight of you working Jake’s cock. His hand moves to his own length, stroking himself in time with the rhythm of your head bobbing on Jake’s cock. The jealousy is there, a bitter edge that makes him want to rip Jake away from you, but he holds back, knowing that this is all part of his plan. You need to get Jake nice and ready for what Heeseung has planned next.

As you focus on Jake, your hips start to rise involuntarily, your body seeking more stimulation, almost begging for attention. Heeseung’s eyes catch the movement, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches your ass sway in front of him. There’s no way you’re sucking Jake’s cock without offering yourself to Heeseung like that. He can’t resist the invitation.

Without warning, Heeseung’s hand comes down on your ass with a loud smack, the sharp sting making you cry out around Jake’s cock. The vibration travels through Jake’s length, and he groans, his head falling back as he feels it shoot straight to his balls.

“Fuck… Heeseung, do that again,” Jake breathes out, his voice strained with pleasure.

Heeseung obliges, his hand coming down harder on your ass this time, the force of the slap sending a jolt of pain-pleasure straight to your core. You cry out again, your throat tightening around Jake’s cock as you take him deeper, the sensation making him groan louder, his hands gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles turn white.

“Such a fucking slut,” Heeseung mocks, his tone filled with dark amusement as he soothes the reddened skin of your ass with gentle strokes, then leans down to press a kiss against it. “Bet she even loves her ass being played with.”

“Bet she does,” Jake echoes, his voice rough, his face scrunched up in pleasure as your tongue runs along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock.

Heeseung wastes no time in spreading your legs wider, his fingers tracing the slick folds of your cheeks before he delves in, tongue first. The wet, hot muscle of his tongue circles your rim, teasing and tasting, flicking over the sensitive skin there. The sensation is unlike anything you’ve felt before, and your back arches instinctively, pushing back against his face as he works you open. Heeseung’s mouth is relentless, his tongue dipping inside before drawing back to lick, over and over, until your thighs are trembling with need.

He adds a finger, then two, stretching you as his tongue continues its assault. Heeseung’s fingers press deeper, curling slightly as he works them in and out with an agonizingly slow rhythm, the slickness of your arousal making it easy for him to fuck into you. The combination of his tongue and fingers is overwhelming; every nerve in your body seems to light up under his touch. He alternates between licking and biting, his teeth grazing just enough to send a shiver of pain-pleasure shooting through you, and you can’t help but clench around him, your muscles tightening as you struggle to keep focus.

Jake watches from above, his cock still in your mouth, and your tongue traces along the prominent vein on the underside, feeling it pulse with every beat of his racing heart. But Heeseung’s ministrations make it impossible to concentrate fully. The way his tongue darts in and out of your ass, combined with the relentless thrust of his fingers, is too much to bear. Each stroke sends a jolt of pleasure directly to your core, and the more Heeseung teases, the harder it becomes to maintain control.

It’s a battle to keep your focus on Jake’s cock. You want to please him, to keep sucking and teasing, but Heeseung’s touch makes your mind go blank. Just as you start to find a rhythm again, you feel Jake twitch in your mouth—a subtle warning that he’s close. Panic surges through you as you remember Heeseung’s strict instructions and the threat of losing the chance to have his cum if Jake finishes in your mouth. Desperate to obey, you pull off Jake with a wet pop, the cool air hitting your lips as you gasp for breath, the brief reprieve quickly turning into a moan as Heeseung drives his fingers deeper, faster.

Heeseung doesn’t let up; he kneels behind you and yanks you up, removing his fingers only to press you firmly against his chest. His grip is possessive, holding you close as he whispers in your ear, “Good girl, you listen so well to me.” The praise sends a rush of heat straight to your core, and you whine, your body going limp against his hold as he licks the last of your taste from his lips, his satisfaction evident.

Seemingly caught in the moment, Jake’s eyes fix on you as he wraps his hand around his cock, fisting himself with quick, desperate strokes. His eyes flutter closed, his head tipping back as he chases the high he was so close to achieving in your mouth. You watch with rapt attention, seeing the way his muscles tense, his abs clenching as he works himself to completion. He positions himself in front of you, aiming at your stomach, and with a low, guttural groan, he spills over you, hot and thick.

His cum splatters across your skin, mixing with the remnants of Heeseung’s earlier release, creating a mess that drips down your belly and pools in your navel. You watch the way Jake’s cock twitches in his hand, each pulse sending another thick rope of cum across your skin, the sight both filthy and utterly arousing. The combined scent of their release fills your senses, and you can’t help but let out a soft, needy whimper, your body aching for more.

Heeseung’s hold tightens around you, his fingers digging into your flesh as he watches Jake finish. “Look at you,” Heeseung murmurs, his voice rough with pride and arousal. “Covered in our cum like the perfect little slut you are.” He tilts your head back, forcing you to look up at him, his dark eyes burning with unspoken promises. “And don’t worry, angel. You’ll get what you want soon enough.” His cock twitches against your back, a silent promise of what’s still to come.

With a smirk, Heeseung’s eyes flick down to his friend’s softening cock. “I’ll give you a minute, yeah?” he says, the implication clear in his tone. Although Jake’s frustration is palpable - knowing that Heeseung will be buried inside you again before he even gets a chance to feel your tightness squeezing his cock - he nods in understanding.

He knows he needs a moment - his dick, still slick with your spit and his own cum, needs a little time to recover before he's ready to go again. The veins running along his shaft are still faintly pulsing, and his tip, now a deeper, more muted pink, glistens under the dim light of the room. He gently strokes himself, trying to keep the lingering arousal alive, his eyes never leaving the scene unfolding before him.

Meanwhile, Heeseung’s lips trail down your neck, nipping at your skin in a playful, almost affectionate way. Each bite is a reminder of his claim on you, and the small smiles he gives are a stark contrast to the filthy things you’ve done together tonight. His warm breath fans against your ear, and you can’t help but shiver in anticipation, knowing exactly what’s coming next.

With a sultry smile, you gather some of the cum pooling on your tummy, dragging your fingers through the sticky mess before bringing them to your lips. You suck them clean, maintaining eye contact with Heeseung the entire time, a deliberate and provocative display. 

A stray dribble escapes the corner of your mouth, trailing down your chin, but Heeseung’s quick to notice. Without hesitation, he leans in, his mouth latching onto your skin as he sucks the dribble off your face, his tongue sweeping over your jawline in a way that’s both possessive and intimate. The unexpected act catches you off guard, and you gasp softly, the sound quickly morphing into a needy whimper.

Something is mesmerising about Heeseung - how he’s unafraid to take what he wants, how he ensures you’re getting the most pleasure out of every moment. He’s unlike anyone you’ve ever been with, and you find yourself falling deeper into the way he handles you with a perfect balance of roughness and care. Jake, too, has been nothing short of selfless, his need to please you evident in every touch and desperate lick. The puppy-eyed boy is eager to please you, which is a rarity to find in men these days, god knows you’ve tried looking for one.

Who knew what you needed was under this roof?

Heeseung’s eyes remain half-lidded, dark with desire, as he pulls back just enough to speak. “Turn around for me, angel,” he instructs, his voice dripping with lust. He punctuates his command with a sharp slap to your ass, and the sting only amplifies the fire burning between your legs. His enthusiasm is contagious, and despite your exhaustion, a renewed energy surges through you. You comply eagerly, shuffling until you’re facing him, both of you on your knees on the mattress.

Up close, Heeseung’s beauty is breathtaking. His dark eyes are alight with mischief and hunger, but there’s also a softness there, a gentleness that contradicts the filthy words he whispers in your ear. You marvel at how stunning he looks with his tousled hair, swollen lips, and a faint sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. He’s a perfect mix of tenderness and dominance, and every second in his presence feels electric.

“I’m going to fuck your cunt. You feeling okay?” Heeseung asks, his voice softening as he checks in on you, his fingers drifting down to your slick heat. He carefully slides them between your folds, testing your sensitivity, searching for any signs of discomfort.

You moan at the touch and nod, meeting his gaze with a cheeky grin. “I’m okay. Nowhere near ruined,” you tease, giving him an innocent look, though both of you know there’s nothing innocent about what’s happening.

Heeseung’s expression shifts, his caring concern replaced with amusement and libido. “Yeah? Suppose I better make good on my promise then,” he growls before crashing his lips back onto yours. The kiss is fierce and consuming, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with unrestrained fervour. He devours you, kissing you like he can’t get enough like he’s starved for every part of you - and he is. His fingers continue to play with your folds, rubbing slow circles against your clit, driving you further into madness as your hips jerk instinctively against his hand.

Jake’s watching intently, his cock twitching back to life as he witnesses the raw passion between you and Heeseung. The sight of you so lost in Heeseung’s touch, the way your body melts into his, ignites something fierce within Jake. He strokes his length slowly, feeling the arousal steadily build again, his tip swelling with a deep rose tint as blood rushes back, hardening him as he imagines the moment he’ll finally be inside you.

Heeseung’s hands find your ass, gripping firmly as he lifts you with ease, positioning you over his lap. Your legs spread wide, and he uses his strength to guide you down, letting your slick folds drag along his cock, the bell of his tip pressing teasingly at your entrance. The friction has you grinding against him, desperate for more, and Heeseung groans at the needy way you move, his head tipping back in pure bliss.

“God, I fucking love how needy you are,” he breathes, leaning forward to hover his lips over yours, barely brushing them as he speaks. “I’m never letting you go after this.”

You can’t suppress the smile that spreads across your face, the words resonating deeply. “Good. I don’t want you to,” you murmur back, your voice filled with sincerity. Heeseung’s gaze softens momentarily before his need takes over, and he pulls you down, his cock finally breaching your entrance as you sink onto him, the stretch and fullness making your eyes roll back in pure ecstasy.

Heeseung’s strong hands grip your waist, guiding you up and down on his cock with practised ease. Each bounce sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, the thick length of him stretching you in ways that leave you breathless. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your soft, needy moans and Heeseung’s ragged breaths. He watches you through hooded eyes, his lips parted as he groans with every thrust, the sight of you taking him so eagerly making his head spin.

“Fuck, you feel even better this time,” Heeseung rasps, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. He can’t believe how tight you still are, how your body moulds perfectly around him, clenching with every movement. His hips snap up to meet your descent, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he drives himself deeper inside you. He swears for a second he can see his cock bulging out your stomach, making him groan out and quicken his pace.

Biting his lip so hard it nearly draws blood, Jake moves closer, his restraint crumbling as he watches you go up and down on Heeseung’s cock. The sight is almost too much for him to bear; he needs to feel you, to be inside you. Climbing onto the bed, he positions himself behind you, his eyes locking onto Heeseung’s, silently asking for permission to join.

Heeseung doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he cups your face, drawing your attention back to him rather than the pleasure. “You think you can take both of us, angel?” he asks, his voice thick with pride and appentence.

The mere thought sends a shiver of excitement down your spine. One cock was already bliss, but the idea of having both of them inside you at once? It’s a dream you never thought would come true. You nod enthusiastically, your smile bright and eager. “Yes. Fuck, yes.”

Jake mirrors your expression, his eyes lighting up and his cock twitching in joy. Unable to resist, he leans in and captures your lips in a kiss. It’s different from Heeseung’s - softer, more deliberate, his tongue stroking yours slowly, savouring the moment. The contrast between Jake’s gentle kiss and the way Heeseung pounds into you is dizzying, making you feel completely overwhelmed in the best way possible.

With his hands groping your ass and kneading your cheeks, Jake’s touch is gentle as he positions himself at your entrance. He feels the tight ring of muscle give way slightly under his touch, his eyes flickering with both excitement and a hint of concern. Slowly, he presses forward, the thick head of his cock nudging at your entrance. The stretch is intense, and you can’t help but claw at Jake’s shoulder, your nails digging in as you adjust to the pressure.

Heeseung pauses his movements, allowing you to catch your breath as Jake inches inside. Your body tenses, the sensation of Jake’s girth pushing into your ass making you gasp. Even though Heeseung had prepped you earlier, Jake’s cock is thick, and the tightness borders on overwhelming.

Jake’s brow furrows, his voice laced with guilt as he peppers kisses along your cheek, your jaw, your forehead - anywhere he can reach. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs between kisses, his touch tender and soothing. “I’ll go really slow until you’re ready, yeah?”

The gentleness in his voice makes your heart flutter, and despite the intensity of the stretch, you can’t help but feel safe between them. “It’s okay,” you whisper, breathless but reassuring. “I want this. You can move.”

Cautiously, Jake slides in deeper inch by inch, his own moans of ecstasy barely contained as your tight heat swallows him. The slow stretch is excruciatingly good, the pressure of being filled from both ends sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body. Heeseung keeps his hands on your waist, holding you steady as Jake finally bottoms out, the three of you perfectly locked together in a moment that feels almost unreal.

“Oh, fuck,” Jake breathes, his head tipping back as he revels in the tight squeeze around him. “You feel so fucking good.”

Heeseung’s lips curl into a smirk as he watches you both, his grip tightening possessively. “You like that, angel? You like being filled up by us?” His voice is low and rough, and you can only nod, your words lost to the pleasure.

As your body begins to adjust to the intense stretch, the rhythm between Heeseung and Jake picks up, their movements becoming more coordinated, more deliberate. Heeseung’s hands roam your body, sliding up your waist to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples as he thrusts up into you. The sensation sends jolts of pleasure shooting straight to your core, each touch amplifying the overwhelming fullness you feel. Jake’s hands grip your hips from behind, guiding you onto his cock with careful but desperate need, his fingers occasionally sliding to your lower back, tracing soft patterns as if trying to soothe the burn of being stretched so wide.

Every thrust is perfectly timed, alternating in a way that keeps you impossibly full, never a moment where you aren’t completely claimed by both of them. The feeling is indescribable - hot, tight, and exquisitely intense, every nerve in your body alight with sensation. The press of Jake’s chest against your back, the rough slide of Heeseung’s cock inside your dripping heat, and the way Jake’s fingers are now expertly working your clit all converge into one dizzying blend of pleasure. Your moans turn into high-pitched cries, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge, and you’re completely lost to the overwhelming ecstasy of having them both.

Jake’s touch on your clit is unrelenting, his fingers drawing slow, firm circles that match the rhythm of their movements. Your body responds instantly, clenching tight around both of them as your orgasm builds, a pressure so fierce it almost scares you. Your breaths turn ragged, your body trembling as you cling to Jake’s shoulders for support, feeling like you might fall apart at any moment. The tension finally snaps, and you’re thrown headfirst into your release, your walls convulsing wildly around them. The sensation is blinding; your vision goes white, and your entire body locks up as the orgasm tears through you. Your head falls back onto Jake’s shoulder, mouth hanging open in a silent scream as pleasure floods every inch of your being.

“Fuck, that’s it, cum for us,” Heeseung groans, his voice thick and strained. His own restraint is slipping, the feeling of you spasming around him pushing him dangerously close to his own release. Jake watches you fall apart, his eyes glazed with lust as he feels your slick walls clench around his cock, milking him for everything he has.

Jake’s breathing is ragged, his release lingering in the air, but his eyes stay fixed on the way your body is stretched and filled between them, a look of longing and unfulfilled need still shadowing his expression. Heeseung’s thrusts are slowing, but Jake’s gaze doesn’t waver; he’s captivated, hungry for more. As he pulls out slowly, his cock slick and glistening from being inside you, he swallows thickly, his desire still burning hot despite his recent release.

“Fuck… Heeseung,” Jake starts, his voice hoarse and filled with a mix of uncertainty and desperate want. He hesitates, his eyes flicking between you and Heeseung. “Can I—can I cum inside her ass?”

Heeseung’s head snaps up, his brows knitting together in a flash of possessiveness. It’s an instinct, that primal urge to keep you all to himself, to not share the deepest parts of you. His fingers tighten slightly on your waist, and he bites his lip, conflicted. The question hangs heavy between the three of you, and you can feel the tension in the air, the silent battle playing out in Heeseung’s mind as he grapples with his possessiveness.

But before he can even form a response, you nod eagerly, your body already aching for more, for that forbidden thrill of being filled in every hole. Your eyes meet Heeseung’s, silently pleading, and he feels his resolve waver. Despite his reluctance, the look of anticipation and need on your face is impossible to ignore.

Heeseung’s gaze softens, his possessiveness yielding under the weight of your desire. He knows how much you crave this, and though the thought of Jake claiming you in such an intimate way twists something inside him, Heeseung’s need to see you satisfied trumps his jealousy. He lets out a sigh, brushing his thumb over your cheek in a tender, reassuring gesture.

“Only because she wants it,” Heeseung murmurs, his voice low and edged with reluctant surrender. He looks at Jake, then back to you, his eyes filled with a fierce, protective heat. 

Jake nods, his eyes lighting up with gratitude and excitement. The sight of you writhing between them, your body trembling and utterly spent - along with verbal permission - pushes Jake over the edge. His grip on your hips tightens, and with a few more desperate thrusts, he lets out a strangled moan, his cock pulsing inside you. He buries himself deep, the heat of his release flooding you as he spills, his cum coating your walls as he grinds against you, hips twitching with each spurt. Jake’s head drops forward, his breath hot against your shoulder as he groans through his release, the feeling of being buried in your tight heat making him shudder in bliss.

“Fuck, so tight,” Jake pants, his voice barely a whisper as he comes down from his high, his body sagging slightly but still moving in time with Heeseung’s thrusts, making sure you stay full.

Heeseung watches, utterly transfixed by the sight of Jake’s cum mixing with your slick as he continues to thrust into you. The pressure of you squeezing him so perfectly and the primal satisfaction of knowing he’s sharing this moment with Jake pushes him right to his breaking point. With a guttural moan, Heeseung snaps his hips up, filling you completely one last time before he finally lets go. His grip on your waist is bruising, his nails digging into your skin as his release surges forward, hot and thick as he empties inside you. The sensation is overwhelming, his cock twitching with every pulse as he coats your insides with his cum.

Heeseung’s thrusts slow but remain deep, his forehead pressed against yours as he breathes heavily, still caught in the aftershocks of his orgasm. “Fuck, angel, you were so perfect,” he mutters, his voice laced with awe as he watches the way your body shudders between them, completely sated and drenched in the evidence of their pleasure. Jake’s hand still lingers on your hip, squeezing gently as if to say that this moment was just the beginning, a silent promise of more to come.

With both of them still inside, you feel utterly claimed, utterly theirs, and you know that nothing else will ever compare.

As the intensity of the moment finally settles, the room falls into a comfortable, exhausted silence, only broken by the sound of labored breathing. Heeseung slowly pulls out of you, careful not to overwhelm you further, his own body still tingling from the aftershocks of his release. He can’t help but watch the way his cum mingles with Jake’s, leaking out of you in thick rivulets. The sight is so raw, so intimate, that it sends a possessive thrill through him, but he knows that now is the time for gentleness.

Heeseung’s touch shifts from passionate to tender, his hands soft and careful as he helps you lay back on the bed. You’re completely spent, your body limp and glowing with satisfaction, and Heeseung takes a moment to appreciate just how beautiful you look—flushed, a little messy, and thoroughly pleasured. He kisses your forehead softly, then moves to check over your body, his gaze sharp and attentive. There’s a hint of concern in his eyes as he inspects every inch of you, ensuring there are no signs of discomfort or strain.

“You okay, angel?” he asks, voice gentle as he runs his fingers soothingly through your hair. You nod weakly, eyes half-lidded, still lost in the blissful haze of what just transpired.

Jake, catching his breath, slips off the bed with a satisfied smile, heading to the kitchen. He quickly grabs a bottle of water and some wet wipes, his mind already shifting to aftercare. He knows how important this part is - to make sure you feel safe and loved, especially after such an intense experience. When he returns, Heeseung is still doting on you, his fingers tracing light patterns on your skin as if grounding you.

You let out a tired whine, snuggling deeper into the pillows. “Too tired,” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper. Heeseung frowns slightly but lets it go, deciding to prioritise your comfort in this moment, knowing he’ll keep a close eye on you.

Heeseung’s protective nature kicks in, and he leans close, his voice soft but firm. “You should try to pee, angel,” he urges, knowing how your body needs it.

But you shake your head, too tired to move, too comfortable in the warm cocoon of their presence to care about anything else. “I know, baby, but it’s important,” he insists, though his tone is gentle, laced with concern.

Jake kneels beside you, his smile tender as he opens the wet wipes and begins to clean you up, his touch gentle and unhurried. He wipes away the sticky mess on your stomach, thighs, and between your legs, his movements slow. The cool touch of the wipes is soothing against your heated skin, and Jake’s soft murmurs of reassurance make you feel even more cared for.

“You did so well,” Jake praises softly, his fingers grazing your skin as he cleans you up, making sure you’re as comfortable as possible. “So perfect for us.” His eyes are full of warmth as he meets yours, and the soft, fond expression on his face makes your heart flutter.

Once you’re cleaned up, Jake hands you the water bottle, urging you to take a few sips to hydrate. You comply, though your body is still heavy with exhaustion. The cool water soothes your dry throat, and you give Jake a sleepy smile of gratitude.

“Thanks,” you whisper, your voice hoarse but content. Jake just smiles back, brushing a stray hair away from your face before discarding the used wipes and settling back on the bed.

“C’mere,” you murmur, reaching out for both of them. The need for closeness, for reassurance, is palpable in your voice, and neither Jake nor Heeseung hesitates. They each slide in beside you, one on each side, surrounding you with their warmth. Heeseung pulls you closer against his chest, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist, while Jake presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his fingers brushing over your cheek.

You sigh in contentment, the weight of their bodies grounding you, making you feel utterly safe and cherished. Heeseung’s thumb strokes your side in soothing circles, and you nuzzle closer to him, inhaling his familiar scent. Jake’s hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers as he snuggles closer, and you feel utterly enveloped by their presence.

The three of you lay there in comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow. The air is thick with the lingering scent of sex, but there’s a newfound calmness, a quiet intimacy that settles over you like a warm blanket.

As you lay nestled between Heeseung and Jake, the warmth of their bodies soothing every ache and the steady rhythm of their breathing lulling you into a sense of tranquility, your eyelids grow heavy. The soft, rhythmic strokes of Heeseung’s thumb along your side and the gentle squeeze of Jake’s hand in yours keep you tethered to the present, yet slowly, inevitably, the world begins to fade.

The sounds around you start to blur - Heeseung’s quiet, steady breaths, the faint rustle of sheets, and the soft hum of the city beyond the window. Everything seems to meld into a comforting haze, and you feel yourself slipping, drifting further into the embrace of sleep. The last thing you register is Heeseung’s fingers brushing through your hair and Jake’s lips pressing a final, tender kiss to your cheek. You surrender to the drowsiness, your body relaxing completely as you sink into a deep, contented slumber, cocooned in the safety of their presence.

With you now resting peacefully between them, Heeseung and Jake exchange a silent glance over your sleeping form. It’s a look filled with a mix of satisfaction, confusion, and a touch of uncertainty. The night had been everything they had imagined and more, but the rawness of their emotions lingers heavily between them. Neither of them had expected to feel this way - to feel so deeply connected to you through this shared experience.

Heeseung’s eyes flicker with an unspoken question, his possessiveness simmering just beneath the surface. He’s never been good at sharing what’s his, and seeing Jake so intimate with you stirs something complicated inside him. He knows he needs to sort through these feelings, but he also knows that tonight isn’t the time for it. Right now, you’re all that matters, your comfort and peace taking precedence over his own inner turmoil.

Jake meets his gaze, and for a moment, his usual easygoing demeanour falters. There’s a flicker of doubt, a quiet acknowledgement of the shift in their dynamic. The truth is, having you like this, feeling you fall apart in their hands, has only deepened his desire. But more than that, it’s solidified something within him—a need to protect and keep you close. It’s a need that, strangely enough, mirrors Heeseung’s own, despite their differences.

Neither of them speaks; there’s no need for words right now. They’ll figure it out in the morning, they tell themselves. What this means for all of them, how they’ll navigate this new and tangled web of emotions and desire—it’s a problem for another day. The only certainty they share in this moment is that you’ve become something irreplaceable, something neither of them is willing to let go of.

But there’s one unspoken agreement that hangs heavily between them: 

Sunghoon can never find out. 

perm taglist: @immortalvee @sunpov @heeseungspookie @strawberrysavi @monstanctiny21 @diorsyun @heexzbae @yzzyhee @baekhyunstruly @zeeloveshee @haechonly @berryblog @no-mannerism @jaehoonii @notevenheretbh1 @shawnyle @addictedtohobi @jiminie-08 @emberuby @nctislifue @lilyuwon @skzenhalove @heeshlove @idkdykilr @chocminteu @y4wnjunz @rikibun @ivesti @parksunghoonsgf @branchrkive @brownsugarbaybee @xxbluestrifexx @bambangan @dollyyun @iluvikeu @deobitifull @yawnazzz @st1llm0nster @woorcve @heeseungsbm @star-hoon @heelee-01 @wonnienyang

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. thinking about true form!sukuna having a huge size kink (+ corruption kink).

word count. 2.6k

note. super self-indulgent. cant rlly blame me for creating this. also do you see those big ass hands in the header i used? yeah.. says enough (this sucks ass)

tags. dom heian era!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut. porn with plot. size kink / size difference (reader gets referred to as ‘short’ & ‘small’). p in v -> unprotected. degradation. corruption kink (reader gets referred to as ‘naive’, 'shy' & innocent’-looking). tummy bulging. loss of virginity mention. hymen breaking mention. cervix fucking, ouch. lots of teasing. tiny bit of choking. tiny mention of blood tasting ? idk. hint at anal / double penetration. dirty talk. sukuna has two of everything btw mehehe. reader get called ‘woman, brat, slut, little'.

sukuna is intrigued by you. he’s always been, since the moment he’s laid his eyes upon you. your loyalty and devotion to him are two aspects that the king of curses likes most about you. .

. . after your innocence.

it nearly irked him. every time he saw you hanging around the estate without a single care in the world. sukuna would attempt to intimidate you with serious threats. he’d loom over your short stature and look down at you with a malicious glint in his eyes. though, none of it seemed to work.

you'd only bow your head at him and apologise if you’ve caused him any possible inconveniences. it annoyed the sorcerer. you weren’t trembling in fear like all the others would — it was like there was nothing going on in that head of yours. especially when you smile at him. which no one actually dares to do.

sukuna could crush you. with no effort. one big hand would be enough to pick your entire body up, lift you in the air and throw you around like a ragdoll. you don’t seem to fear the possibility of that happening, even when being faced with a pissed off sukuna.

it’s truly intriguing and amusing. that’s why sukuna kept you around every day — as a form of entertainment, he called it. one thing led to the other and you eventually ended up as one of his concubines. the king of curses himself decided to grant you that promotion.

why? because not only does your fragile body, reserved and polite personality and innocence secretly fascinate him — it also makes him crave you. crave to shatter that naivety of yours. to take that small body of yours and make it feel what it means to be overpowered by a man twice your size.

sukuna does not regret his decision to make you his concubine. the first night you spent together was one of the best nights he had ever had. in all his many years of living. not a single woman had ever succeeded in blowing his mind when it came to sex.

it was usually boring and repetitive for the sorcerer. he felt nothing for those women he’s had in bed before — it was solely for the fact of satisfying himself. though, that changed on the day you had given him your virginity.

he remembers every detail; from your little noises of both pain and pleasure, your tight and untouched pussy that bled faintly when the fat tip of his lower cock pushed through, your nails that dug into his arms and back, your thighs that he held to your chest, his large hands that could easily wrap around the fat of them, your aching cunt that was left spasming around air as it tried to keep his sticky cum stored in place.

sukuna didn’t think your tears would affect him as much. when he took your virginity and you whimpered in pain — he did feel a twinge of guilt. it was strange; he hadn’t felt that emotion before. he had stopped and wiped your tears away. roughly whispered some words of encouragement too.

he had never done so before. never. he had never told anyone how ‘good’ they were for him. how he’d be ‘careful’ to not make it hurt any more. the king of curses recalls vividly how slow he started with you. slow sex. instead of rough like he’s used to.

sukuna wasn’t chasing after his own pleasure in that moment like he’d usually have. his main priority was to make sure the girl below him was comfortable enough to continue. you’re strange. the things you make him do, say and feel are strange. and yet. . .

it was an amazing night. the best. however sukuna was left behind with an insatiable hunger for you. more, more, more. he can’t grasp it yet; why he longs for you. for those feelings he’s suddenly capable of experiencing during intimate moments.

it’s why he calls for you every night. no other concubine was needed after you were made one. the king of curses couldn’t care less about those other women. they are boring to him.

unlike you. the one he’s sure that he won’t ever get bored of.

“you can take me so well now,” sukuna breathes out. one of his cocks was inches deep inside you, bulbous tip painfully hitting your cervix. over the past few weeks, your body had learnt to adjust to him, your pussy molded to fit the shape of his dick.

sukuna looks down at you and his cocks twitch with the urge to release already. his heavy balls clenching. your fucked out state is adorable. you seemed so.. vulnerable underneath the big man, “what a fragile little thing.”

it almost sounded condescending. degrading. especially with sukuna’s lips being curled up into a mean grin, his sharp canines showing. there was a puddle of your cum forming underneath your hips — staining the sheets that the poor servants have to clean by tomorrow morning.

“p-please, fngh, ‘s too big,” you sputter out. no matter how many times you took sukuna in, your smaller body couldn’t quite fully accommodate to the girth of him. every time he hits your deepest parts, you let out a painful whimper.

sukuna kisses his teeth, though slows his thrusts a bit. the wet sounds of his cum and yours getting pushed in and out of your cunt with each move was too addicting. what sukuna loves most is the view of the skin of your lower abdomen swelling and stretching each time he pushes forward.

“i thought you said you’d take both of my cocks today, yet it seems like you can’t even handle one,” the king of curses sighs whilst belittling you. one set of hands is holding you down by your hips, the other set is fondling your stiff nipples and circling your sensitive clit, “what a pity. a real pity.”

you almost choke on your spit as all your sensitive spots were being fondled. sukuna’s thick fingers leave no place untouched as he increases the tempo again—his cock plunging in and out of your stretched hole. the upper one was twitching, rubbing against your clit and lower abdomen.

sukuna harshly grabs your jaw and makes you look up at him after he hears you apologise for making empty promises. he seems satisfied with you staying so polite. even when he’s practically rearranging your guts. the way you talk through your soft sobs and cries is endearing. makes him grin wickedly.

“i don’t want to break my favourite little concubine yet, you see,” sukuna continues. he lets out a grunt of pleasure when your pussy clenches around his thick cock. no matter how many times he fucks you dumb, you still remain as tight as the first time.

he takes in a deep breath. he’s trying his best not to pound you into the mattress. he’d fold you in half and probably break you like the fragile thing you are. he could snap you like a twig if he wasn’t careful, “. . .but you’re making it very difficult for me.”

you respond by apologising again. oh, how cute it was to see you babble and make up excuses. sukuna grits his teeth, jaw clenching as he resists the urge to go harder on you. you’re already squirming and moaning loudly just because he’s fucking you hard and deep—bruising your cervix and forcing your walls to open up to him.

“‘m sorry, wanna take both.” you hiccup and sniffle. tears ran down your cheeks from overstimulation. it felt so good yet so painful to be taken by the person you admire most. you didn’t want to displease him, so you uttered those hopeless yet needy sentences again.

sukuna stops his movements when you weakly ask him to use both of his cocks on you. he scoffs, not knowing where you gained the confidence from. he pulls out of your dripping cunt, leaving a trail of cum connecting both your genitalia.

“‘wanna take both,’ she says,” sukuna mocks you under his breath. it’s getting worse; he’s nearing the point of no return. especially with your desperate whines that were like music to his ears, “you’ll break, woman.”

two of his hands move to stroke along his lengths, smearing the mixture of body fluids all over them. his eyes glare down at your small form—already fucked out, yet aching to continue. needing the full experience for once.

you always turn from a shy girl to a complete slut whenever he has you in bed. sukuna loves it.

“i want to try at the very least,” you mutter. it’s true that you’re exhausted. you’re catching your breath now that you got the chance, tired eyes glancing up at sukuna’s enormous stature between your legs, his defined muscles and the tattoos on them glistening under the faint light of the oil lamp.

it got your pussy throbbing and clamping down around air. you felt a bit light headed and your head lolls back against the pillow, eyes glazed over as you try to seem determined. but your body was tired.

“yeah? how. . . cute,” sukuna grins. he knows you can’t. not today at least. he doesn’t mind if you aren’t capable of taking him fully since you’ve already pleased him well enough for now. though, he still can’t help but tease you—make it seem like he’s going to give you what you want, “all right. don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

your eyes widen and your fingers curl around the silky bedsheets beneath you in anticipation. your heart is pounding in your chest as you watch sukuna pump his two cocks a bit faster, squeezing the base a bit, leaking some pre.

it’s all just for show.

“i’m not stopping. even if you scream.” the king of curses warns you with a dangerous glint in his eyes. you gulp at the terrifying aura sukuna was emitting. one of his tips teases your entrance whilst the other probes and circles around your anus.

he threatens you again, testing if you’ll back down, “last chance. i’m not pulling out once i’m in, do y’hear me?”

you keep being stubborn until the very last second. sukuna’s deep voice that shook you to your core was not enough to make you change your mind. you were so desperate to fulfill his every need and make sure that he was satisfied. it made you the perfect woman in his eyes.

the king of curses is completely amused. he decides to take it up a notch. he pushes his lower cock against the tight ring of muscles, pressing and nearly allowing the tip to move in. the sudden increase in pressure is torturous. you surely wouldn’t be able to withstand the entire thing.

“w-wait!” you squeal in surprise and pain. the sting you felt made you snap back into reality. it’s when you realised that maybe you needed more time and experience to take both of sukuna’s dicks. you squirm your hips away, “can’t. i can’t.. hurts too much.”

sukuna nearly rolls his eyes once you finally give in. he shakes his head with a sigh, feigning disapproval and annoyance. he pulls his entire body away from yours—a ominous shadow casted over his eyes. it makes you think that he’s pissed off at you; for being unable to please him.

you panic a little. even if you are sure sukuna wouldn’t ever hurt you. you know he favours you over the other concubines. you don’t want to lose that position.

“i’m sorry.” you apologise before the sorcerer could say anything. he lets out a sharp breath, rough hands back on your body, kneading your flesh gently yet firmly. his eyes take in the view of you trembling.

it’s unreal. you are half his size—completely vulnerable underneath him. he’d normally call people like you weak and useless. wouldn’t feel a thing for them. but your naked body below his is a sight he wishes to see every night.

it turns sukuna on so much. the fact that you are helpless and don’t complain when you’re struggling to take one of his cocks gets him going each time.

“tsk. what’d i tell you?” sukuna grumbles. he slaps his lower cock firmly against your clit. your body responds by closing your thighs together, though the king of curses pries them apart again, “stop overestimating yourself, brat.”

he isn’t actually mad. it was expected—of course you couldn’t take both at once. he didn’t even prep your other hole enough. plus you are clearly still exhausted from the previous rounds. sukuna just likes to. . . test and take advantage of your devotion to him. your obedience and desires to please him.

it’s fascinating to see you squirm and apologise in that whiny voice of yours. it makes him grin from ear to ear. and it keeps things fun.

before you could mutter excuses again, sukuna stops you by leaning in. just when you thought you’d finally get to kiss him, he goes to bite down on your bottom lip. a moan slips out of your mouth which only spurs him on to bite down harder.

you could feel the devilish smirk on sukuna against your lip. his wet tongue cleans up the tiny drop of blood that escaped the wound. he lets out a low hum in approval at the taste. delicious as always.

“now, how should i punish my little concubine for being unable to keep her word?” sukuna whispers in a serious tone. it sends shivers down your spine, his hot breath traveling from your jaw to your right ear. he slowly licks your earlobe, “what do you say? any ideas?”

the tension in the room was palpable. your heart was stammering in your throat from the proximity between the two of you. you gather the courage to answer as sukuna’s fingers curl around your neck, squeezing your throat as if forcing the answer out of you.

“i-i’ll do anything, sir.” you reply through a shaky breath. the king of curses pulls back after he’s got a response from you. your eyes meet his and that’s when you know that you’ve either greatly pleased him or have given him the chance to go all out on you.

it’s probably both.

“anything, you say?” sukuna repeats slowly. without a warning, he effortlessly flips you over on your stomach, a set of hands pulling your ass up by your hips whilst the other set holds your upper body down on the mattress.

a harsh grip on the back of your head results into you whimpering. your face was mushed into a pillow, almost leaving no place to breathe. your back is placed in the perfect arch with your plump ass facing up. it’s one of sukuna’s favourite positions to do with you — especially because it makes you seem smaller than you already are.

“heh. i’ll make you regret saying that.” sukuna chuckles. a low, evil and wicked chuckle. that’s enough to make you realise that he was not going easy on you. your submission had greatly impressed the king of curses and he's taking advantage of it. again.

what would come next could be a reward for that said submission. he’s going to fuck your brains out and make you forget about everything else except for his dick. a night you won’t ever forget as long as you live—that’s a possibility.

or perhaps you’re going to be crying and begging him to go easy on you. a punishment for not being able to keep your promise. that could also happen.

anyway, you’re about to find out which one it is.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐘𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐙𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ❞

❝ WHAT HAPPENS WHEN TWO YAKUZA HEIRS ARE FIGHTING OVER WHO GETS TO MARRY YOU ?? ❞

✧ pairing: yakuza!satoru gojo x f!reader x yakuza!suguru geto

✧ summary: you had no patience for the yakuza lifestyle your grandfather had -- you wanted to live a normal life, but when it leaks that your grandfather is in talks to have you engaged to one of two yakuza heirs -- you realize you're in deeper than you thought -- especially when they both fall in love with you.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, inspired / dialogue / scene concepts taken from the manga “yakuza fiance,” (which the fic is named after), reader's age is ambiguous, but all are 20s+, violence (as expected from mafia / yakuza stories), blood, stsg have tattoos, implied satosugu (just a passing mention of dating briefly), stsg have sadomasochistic tendencies, a little ooc, switch! gojo (very sub gojo), switch! geto, oral (f + m), deepthroating, handjob (m), fingering (f! receiving), double penetration, sex (p in v), creampie, poly relationship implied ending,

✧ wc: 18,476

“I don’t want to marry either of you,” 

And your statement is met with confused stares — and normally stares like this wouldn’t be terrifying to the average person, but these were not average men you were dealing with. 

Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto were anything but average — in many ways. 

Both were incredibly handsome — Satoru was blessed with a piercing blue gaze of the heavens and snow white locks that could stun any person into silence, and Suguru was no slouch either — with long inky black locks tied into a neat bun and his sharp features and his almost all too alluring smile — the two of them looked like they belonged to a modeling agency. Both were also brilliant, attending one of the best high schools in Tokyo, before going to the best university, leading in their respective specialities (Satoru studying physics, while Suguru chose literature). 

And, the two were both the heirs to two of the most dangerous Yakuza families in all of Japan. 

But right now, they are your biggest problems, personified. 

Their families were both vying for your hand in marriage — thanks to your meddling grandfather who shipped you off to Tokyo to get a would-be Yakuza husband — your yakuza family hoping to broker peace after decades upon decades of fighting with one of the other two biggest yakuza families around — the Gojo and Geto families respectively. 

“Excuse me?” Suguru speaks first, a single eyebrow raised, arms crossed over his crisp white button up. 

“I’m not here for this yakuza bullshit. I’m trying to live my own life — and I’m not in the mood to get swept along in my grandfather’s wishes for me to get married,” your hand is in your bag, fingers curled around your collapsible metal pole, “and I don’t care to know either of you, I don’t really care to stick around you — especially because all its earned me is the disdain of all the other students who have crushes on you — so how about we simply tolerate each other for this year?” 

Satoru whistles, “how disappointing,” his eyes raking over you from head to toe, “you’re worse than your reputation — we heard you were a stuck-up, spoiled rich girl that would do anything to get her way, but turns out you’re just normal,” he sticks out his tongue and makes a gagging noise, “how boring,” 

“Truly tiresome,” Suguru hums, his bangs falling in his dark gaze, “I was looking forward to a woman who could match up to us — maybe fuck me up, punish me, and strip away my dignity — type of girl who’d ruin my life, do you understand?” 

You stare at him, lips parted, brow furrowed, “What?” 

“In other words, we were hoping you were much more interesting than you were — as you are now, you’re just useless,” Satoru sighs dramatically, his pink lips curled in a smile, “bor-inggggg,” 

“You might as well go back to Osaka, or wherever it was you came from,” Suguru shrugs, hands in his pockets, as he pulls a cigarette and a lighter, “you could stay, but as it stands, you would be better off back home — maybe it would even start a war — that could be fun, Satoru,” he remarks, his grin growing more sinister by the minute, as he places the cigarette between his lips, and lighting it. 

“Let’s actually not be so hasty, Suguru. She could have some use,” he holds out his fingers to frame you between them, “could be worth something if we have her work at one of our families clubs — selling her body. She could make some use for us,” he says cruelly, “Otherwise, go back home, and let them know we’re the ones not interested in you,” he says, brushing past you along with Suguru. 

And you couldn’t decide which one of their smiles were the most bone chilling — and why you couldn’t quite find your voice in that moment. And you didn’t — not until you finally reached home, your phone ringing. 

“How’s it going, dear granddaughter?” you could hear the grin of the old coot even over the phone — and how could you tell him you wanted to go home now? You had hoped to go there to give two rejections — not earn two of your own. You hoped to stick out the year before leaving this place behind, if only to appease your grandfather. 

“I’m fine, but I think…I think I’m homesick,” you sit on the edge of your bed, hunched over, hand holding your head up, propped against your knee. 

“Why’s that? Did something happen?” 

“Nothing, I just—” 

“You’re not coming back home,” and your hopes fall, “one year, you have to stay one year no matter what. Don’t care if you have to fight with every bone in your body and fiber of your being — last a year,” 

“But why—” 

“Make those boys fall for you, and then break their hearts, heh — your grandfather is a heartbreaker and I know you can do the same,” and you know his lips are curled in a smile not too dissimilar to the two men you met today, “don’t forget where you come from — and what you’re worth,” and he cuts the line, as you stare at your phone, before tossing it away and lying back. 

Well, you know what you had to do. 

~~~

“Morning,” you know where’d they be — the only free period they had together that they spent in the dining hall with their entourage — including some girls who had been harassing you about how you knew the pair — ones you had suspected in fucking with your locker, smearing mud all over your shoes. A small retaliation for capturing their precious crushes’ attention.

The two heirs only stare for a moment — it had been two weeks since they had seen you, “thought I had gone home?” 

“Surprised you didn’t,” Suguru remarks, utterly disinterested from the look in his eyes, despite the smile plastered on his lips, “guess I lost the bet, Satoru,” 

You raise an eyebrow at Satoru, “you thought I’d stay?” 

“Thought you'd stay to take me up on my offer to sell your body,” he holds out his hand as Suguru slaps a stack of bills in his palm, “did you?” 

“I did actually,” your lips curl, as their gazes slide to one another, before you drop a bag on their table, “one kidney, 5,000,000 yen,” and you take delight in the smiles that slide off their expressions, as they stare at you, Satoru looking over the lip of the bag before you knocked it over and let the stacks of money spill over the table, “it took two weeks since it took a while to arrange and recover, but it was well worth it,” 

The pair only can stare — expression unreadable and words seemingly stolen from their mouths, as you only smiled down at them, your gaze digging into their faces like daggers.

Suguru’s eyebrows knit together, “How did you—“ 

“Friend of a friend,” you shrug, “I’ll have to be on a low sodium diet and probably do blood work a little more frequently but you were right about one thing — I was being weak,” you lift up your shirt to show the bandage on your side, their eyes wide, as they can only stare, “I won’t be making that mistake again,” 

And you place your foot up on their table, leaning in, as the mask slips from your face, and your anger surges forth, “listen here, you masochistic fuckers, I’m not scared of either one of you. I don’t care if I have to crawl home choking on my own blood, I’ll be sure you’re choking on each other’s as I drag you both to hell. I’m staying here, whether either of you like it or not,” 

“You can’t talk to them like that—“ one of the girls pipes up, her lips twisted in a frown. 

“I can talk to them however I want - do you know who I am? I come from a family just like there’s but we actually know how to cover up our crimes,” you chuckle, head tilting, “do you know how easy it’d be to get rid of you two?” Your gaze slides to the other girl, “it’d be all too simple — and trust me, I’d get my hands dirty if it’s the two of you,” your lips curl into a wide grin as you add, “after all, you guys did me the favor of dirtying my shoes already,” 

And the two blanch white, all indignance replaced with genuine fear — and you had never known someone could look at you as someone to be feared. 

And you didn’t know you would like it so much. 

You staple the smile on your face again, as the two heirs still sit speechless in their seats, eyes glued to you,  “Well that’s all,” you slide back, “I have to head to class—” 

But then your wrists are caught — pulling you back, as you find yourself pinned on either side by the two heirs, your body tense, before your gaze slides between them, “What?” 

“Marry me,” they both say simultaneously — and you gape at them. 

You are pushing them back, palms pressed against their chests, but find yourself met with two immovable objects, instead trying to squirm out of their grips. “What?” And their grips loosen enough for you to take a step back, but their hands remain around your wrists. 

“I have to have you,” Suguru presses a chaste kiss to the back of your hand, dark gaze lidded as he looks up at you, and a shiver climbs up your spine, “I’ve never been so terrified or turned on in my life — it must be love,” 

Satoru is the same, mesmerized with eager words, “I want you to do what you promised, Princess — ruin my life,” Satoru’s lips curled in a wide grin, “want you to completely fuck me up, dominate my entire life — and there’s only one way to do that, marry me,” 

Suguru only scowls at Satoru, “You know Satoru, it’s very rude to propose after your best friend does,” Suguru’s gaze slides to him, “she’s mine,” and his other hand finds your shoulder, pulling you against his chest, even as you struggle against their grips, “her family reached out to mine first,” 

“Fuckers, I swear to god, let me go—“ but they act as if they can’t hear you, a current of possessiveness sweeping their thoughts away. 

“So what? Her family decided to ask for my hand — looks like yours wasn’t good enough,” Satoru only grins, pulling you against him instead, his breath warming your flushed skin, as you grimace, “and I’d make her happier than you ever would.” 

“Want to take this outside, Satoru?” Suguru’s glare sent chills down your spine, but Satoru’s lips split into a smile so wide, you were afraid his head would crack in two. 

“Why? Feeling lonely? Go by yourself,”

And finally you stomp on Satoru’s foot before elbowing Suguru in the stomach, drawing groans from both boys, as you stumble away from them, whirling to face them, “Don’t treat me like your goddamn property or that I’m a prize to be won,” your words slip like venom from your lips, “don’t ever fucking touch me without asking,” 

“Of course, we’re sorry,” Suguru only grins after, holding his stomach, but he still looks all too delighted, “you should reprimand us like the scum we are, isn’t that right Satoru?” 

Satoru nods, pouting, “Yeah we deserve more of a punishment,” and your skin crawls at their eagerness. 

“I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you two, but I don’t want anything to do with it,” you walk away, hiding your dumbstruck expression, but the two only followed you. 

“You can’t just walk away from us, you have to decide who you want,” Suguru calls after you, their long strides meant they caught up all too fast, and you’re armed with your collapsible pole now, pointing it at both of them. 

“Two minutes ago, both of you thought I was normal and boring,” your eyes narrow — was this another plot to just sell you to some club? 

“And I’m sorry about that sweetheart,” Satoru’s arm is around your waist again, while Suguru’s fingers intertwined with yours, “we were clearly wrong — and you have to take responsibility,” 

You stare at them, “for what?” 

And he’s leaning to whisper in your ear, “I’m so hard for you right now,” And you’re whirling on them with the pole, but they both expertly dodge your assault, before you’re hurrying away. But they let you go, watching after you with a grin. 

“This is going to be fun,” Suguru remarks, looking at his best friend, “I can’t guarantee I won’t kill you for her hand,” 

Satoru only smirks in reply, “You stole the words out of my mouth, Suguru.” 

~~~

It had been a week — a week of you trying skillfully to evade the two yakuza heirs. 

And you had failed. No matter how fast you left your classes, where you hid, where you sat — the two always found you. And now you have resorted to sitting outside to eat your lunch, being careful to avoid any stray glance of your presence. You sat, back against the building, as you held your head, bento box in your lap — how long until they would get the message? How long until they figured out you wanted nothing to do with them? 

Your grandpa had told you to make them fall for you, but you didn’t think you had too much more to do with how the two were following you around, dogging your every step. 

How would you last another year? 

You opened your bento — at least for once, you could enjoy your lunch without one of them— 

“There you are,” and your lunch nearly goes tumbling out of your lap, but you grasp it, keeping your food from spilling out of your bento, and you turn to meet the gaze of Suguru, leaning against the windowsill, “you’re a fast one, sweetheart,” his head tilted and lips curled in his signature smile. 

“How the fuck did you find me so fast?” you stare at him, brow furrowed, “it’s barely been five minutes, and this campus is huge,” 

“It’s the power of love, of course,” you cringe, and he laughs, bringing his knuckles to his lips, “oh rather, it’s the power of the tracking device I slipped in your bag,” 

And you blink, “You what?” 

He shrugs, “Well how else would I have found you so quickly? I’ll slip it in your shoe next time,” and he sighs, as you dig through your bag, before turning it upside down and letting your things spill out on the grass, “besides, there’s a good reason I’m tracking you,” and you find the tracker before stomping on it, digging your heel into it, crushing it into the dirt, “there’s been a kidnapping of another Yakuza heiress,” 

And your eyes flit to him, and he’s still smiling at you, “Who?” you continue to collect your things, shaking out textbooks and examining your things for any other hidden trackers. 

“You’ll learn tonight — come to the compound tonight — you’ve been formally invited by both my father and Satoru’s father,” and he’s hopping out of the window, fingers brushing yours as he hands you your pencil case, and he’s all too close now, his warm breath warming your lips. 

“And if I refuse?” and his lips curl in a smirk. 

“You’d be offending not only my family, but Satoru’s as well—” and he’s rising to his feet, offering you a hand, “and it might end in an all out war, but that would be just fine for us — would it for you?” 

You glare at him, taking his hand reluctantly, as he helps you to your feet, and you brush the dirt from your skirt and legs, “Fine, what time?” 

“After school, Satoru will be waiting by the gates for you,” he smiles, as he settles next to you, pulling out his own lunch, and you tilt your head, “oh are you curious about me? I have my own business to attend to,” 

“Is that what the other bastard is up to?” and he chuckles at that, taking a bite of his food. 

“Something like that.” 

~~~~

“Took you long enough, pretty,” the Gojo heir’s eyes drag over you like spotlights as he leans against the gate outside, the other students staring as you two speak, whispering as they walk by, slowing down to either catch a longer glance at Satoru or hear a bit of your conversation, “with being so quick to leave for lunch, I thought you’d be just as quick leaving the building,” and he’s offering you a drink from the vending machine that you reluctantly take. 

“Well, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to being a spectacle,” you grumble, as you power walk away from the burgeoning traffic jam that Satoru was causing, and he follows behind, “why do they all stare anyway? They know you're a yakuza, don’t they?” 

“Part of the draw,” he shrugs, the hiss of his own soda filling the air as he pops it open, “everyone wants what they can’t have, but don’t worry, I only have eyes for you, sweetheart,” you grimace as he sips at his soda, raising an eyebrow, “so what can’t you have?” 

You both finally reach the heart of the city, bustling with people left and right — the one thing you couldn’t get used to from the quieter life you led, “Some peace and quiet, apparently,” you adjust your bag on your shoulder in a tighter grip, if only you could lose him in this crowd and be done with all this shit, but it wasn’t that simple, and then it occurs to you, “did you put a tracker on me as well?” 

“Nah, I just used Suguru’s,” he smiles, as he downs the rest of his drink with his head thrown back, before crushing the can in his hand and tossing it away in the recycling bin nearby, “plus, I didn’t have time, been busy with other things, unfortunately,” 

“What things have you—” 

And you’re suddenly tugged into an alleyway, an arm around your neck and a hand clamped over your mouth, “Don’t struggle, it will only make it more difficult for you,” the man whispers in your ear, as another two men draw closer to your sides, “we’ll kill you if you do,” 

You can’t scream, but you don’t need to — because the man who grabbed you screams first. 

“Who the fuck are—” and he screams, his hands slipping from your side, the thump of his body against the pavement making you flinch, as you slowly turn to find Gojo, as he only glares at the other men, before his gaze slides to you, softening with a smile. 

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, come here,” and you swallow, before taking shaky steps to his side, and he’s pulling you behind him, “wait here,” 

It happens far too quickly.

Or maybe it’s just a blur now. Because now he’s beaten the three men into submission, their scarlet blood splattering against his uniform, the wet squelch of their flesh as he punches and kicks them, his shoe digging into their sides. He winds his fist back again. 

“That’s enough,” you say hoarsely, swallowing thickly, “they’re barely alive,” 

“More than they deserve,” he mutters, before sighing and grabbing one by his shirt, fabric straining against the dead weight of the man, and pulls him close, his hand connecting with his face as he slaps him awake, “You hear me? Listen,” he shakes him, until the man’s eyes blink open, bleary, “You see me? Don’t forget my face. You touch her again — and it’s the last thing you’ll see before the afterlife, got that?” 

“Yes,” the man slurs. 

“That’s my girl,” he jerks his head at you, “she’s mine and if you or any of your stupid friends or family see her, don’t talk or touch her, much less even look at her,” and his lips curl again, “or I promise my family and the Geto family will slaughter you — until there’s nothing left.” and he drops the man onto the ground, “let’s go,” he mutters, shaking the blood off his knuckles, before using the inside of his uniform jacket to wipe the rest off. 

“Your uniform, it's—” and he glances at the blood seeping into the fabric of his jacket and crisp shirt, and you’re digging through your bag, “I have my hand towel and some—” and he’s shaking his head. 

“I have a sweatshirt I can wear in my bag,” and he’s tugging off his uniform jacket and unbuttoning his shirt, and you can’t look away fast enough — not before seeing the tattoo littering his back. 

A large lion against his back, seemingly roaring, against a backdrop of bamboo, stared back at you, as your breath catches in your throat — he wasn’t just a spoiled heir, he was a real yakuza. And what he did to those men — his eyes met yours again, as he tugged the sweatshirt on, lips still in that ridiculous smile — it was likely the least of what he could really do to them. 

“Oh, sorry, guess I never told ya,” he pulls the orange sweatshirt down, pulling a pair of sunglasses on, and your horrified expression in the circular black rims stare back at you, “sorry for scaring you, sweetheart,” 

“You’re really—” you cut off, heart caught in your throat. Yeah, you had spent too much of your life surrounded by men covered in tattoos, but these two — their auras — were on another level that was simply — terrifying. 

“A yakuza?” he finishes, peering at you over the rim of his sunglasses, “Surprised it took you this long to figure out — thought you had that pieced together a while ago — what? I assume your family shielded you from that kind of violence — probably had guards on you 24/7 so no one would mess with you. Well you aren’t in Osaka anymore,” his fingers intertwined with yours, his larger hand engulfing yours as he tugs you along away from the alley, the faint groans of the men disappearing into the ambient noise of the city, “Stay close, princess.” 

And you flushed, biting your lip. There was a lot you didn’t know, but you knew you better learn — you spare one glance back at the alley — and quick. 

~~~

You both arrive back to the compound, as you’re funneled into a room, you get a glimpse of Suguru in an adjacent hallway, his clothes as bloodied as Satoru’s was, if not more. His dark eyes catch yours and his lips curl, as he holds his hand up as a greeting, mouthing, “Yo,” 

You’re shepherded away to sit, and soon enough, Satoru and Suguru join you, as you fidget in the middle of the room, the three of you sit on cushions, while another cushion directly in front of you. Your fingers can't help but toy with the ribbon on the front of your uniform — what if this was just a ruse to sell you off? Maybe they even found out about you selling your kidney? Anxiety swirled in your mind, dragging down your body to even the tips of your toes, your body buzzing and stinging with thoughts. 

“This really is just a talk to discuss the missing Yakuza heiress,” Suguru cuts through your thoughts, as you stare at him, slack jawed, and he only shrugs, leaning back against his hands flat on the floor, “you’re not hard to read, sweetheart,” 

“Besides, if we wanted to kill you, why not let you die in that alleyway?” Satoru chimes in, ever so helpful, as you glare at him, before his gaze slides to Suguru, “did you take care of that like I asked, Suguru?” and he nods, and before you can ask a question, the door slides open. 

Instead of the heads of the household, a yakuza comes in, sunglasses stare back at you, his dark brown hair slicked back, shaved on the sides of his head, as he stared down at the three of you, “The heads won’t be able to make it to this meeting — something has come up,” 

“Yaga, good to see you,” Suguru chirps, while Satoru only sighs, hands behind his head. 

“Glad to see you haven’t gotten yourself killed since you’ve been away, old man—“ and Satoru earns a fist to his head, “ow!” 

“Keep it up and you’ll get something worse than a whack to the head,” Yaga grumbles, taking his seat, “you must be the girl,” he eyes you up and down, “I’ll get straight to the point — the Akazawa heiress is missing. She’s assumed to be kidnapped,” he hands you a photo of her — shoulder length black hair, her eyes look past the camera, her head tilted downwards, but her hazel eyes pierce through the picture. 

“How long has she been gone?” Suguru asks, “any chance that she just ran off?” 

“There’s a chance she’s been sold off for a couple hundred thou,” Satoru remarks, crossing his arms, “people would pay a premium for a yakuza heiress,” and his eyes slide to you, and you glare back. 

“We don’t know — maybe she ran off, maybe she’s been sold, maybe there’ll be a ransom coming in at one point or another, or maybe she’s dead—” and you bite your lip, “but we can’t take the risk, especially since we have a similar heiress under our care now,” Yaga says, crossing his arms with a hefty sigh, “that being said, you’ll be staying at the compound until further notice— your things have already been brought here,“ you gape at him, mouth nearly hanging open, “and you’ll have Satoru or Suguru with you at all times — their schedules have been rearranged to have class with you,” 

“But—“ and Yaga shoots a look at you that silences your protests. 

“These orders came from the three heads, including your grandfather, would you like to defy them?” And your mouth clamps shut, your head falling. 

“No, sir,” Yaga rises, leaving, but not before ordering the two heirs to show you where you’ll be staying, “and any real threats to you appear, and your classes will be made online and you will remain under guard in the compound,” Yaga adds before disappearing behind another door. 

“It won’t be that bad, Princess,” Suguru grins, as they walk you to your room, “now we can really get to know each other before we’re married,” 

“Don’t you mean before we’re married?” Satoru says, as Suguru only smiles back at him. 

“I would rather not marry you, Satoru, dating you for a week was enough—“ and Satoru opens his mouth to reply. 

“I’m not marrying either of you,” you rub your head, feeling the beginnings of a headache creeping on your temples — you barely could make it through the day with enduring the amount of insanity these two already inflicted, you were sure you’d murder one or both of them if you had to spend 24/7 with them, “we should be keeping a low profile from now on, not going out—” 

“Except for the dates we have planned,” Satoru says, offering you the key to your room, and you unlock the door, stepping inside. 

“Especially not for those.” And you slam the door shut and lock it. 

Your eyes take in the boxes that surround you, full of the things from your apartment, and sigh. 

Fuck, this really was your life now, wasn’t it? 

~~~

“Why are you staring at me?” you can’t ignore Suguru’s stare in the subway, even when you refuse to meet it. The light from the windows flooded into the subway, flickering as the carts sped by, as the two of you hung onto the grab handles. Your usual peaceful ride to university was now impeded by Suguru who stood by your side, his eyes seemingly glued to you. 

“I see that your left side is slower to respond than your right,” and you shift under his gaze, “that’s why your bag is always on your left side, so you can spot a threat easier and have a stronger grip, smart,” 

You raise an eyebrow, “How did you figure that out?” 

He shrugs, “From observation — I also move a little slower on my left — I even blink slower,” and you face him, staring into his eyes, trying to notice any difference between the two eyes. The only thing you could see is how pretty they really were — dark and lidded, not as bright or striking as Satoru’s, but just as mysterious. 

“I can’t tell,” you tilt your head, and he only smiles. 

“There isn’t a difference, but I got you to stare into my eyes, didn’t I?” and you glower at him, your remark cut off by the influx of people flooding into the cart. Fuck, you never had seen it this full before. You forced yourself not to cringe under the tight quarters — you could handle this, it wasn’t a big deal, even as the people sandwiched themselves all around you, anxiety biting at your nerves. And then you’re knocked around by the crowd as the cart jerks, but then, Suguru is pulling you lightly so your back is pressed against a wall and he’s caging you in, his body protecting you. 

Your breath catches — he’s so close, “You don’t have to—” and your gazes meet again, your breath catching, your bag caught between your bodies. He’s nearly pressed against you, the heat from his form seeps into your own. And he smells good, despite the sticky heat of the summer lingering — something musky but sharp at the same time — what was that scent? 

“You seemed uncomfortable,” he says, his hand holding onto the grab handle above, “this seemed like the easiest solution, especially so I can protect you — it would be much easier to shield you with my body this way,” 

“Shut up,” you grumble, as he chuckles, before you’re sighing, “I’m not used to taking the subway — I used to have a car that took me back and forth,” you chew your lip, “I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t take care of myself,” 

“Makes sense to have you driven — as a yakuza heiress, they wanted precautions,” Suguru nods, his eyes sliding around the cart, “you never know,” 

“Is that why your eyes keep scanning the subway cart?” you raise an eyebrow. 

And his lips curl, “I did say I’d protect you with my life, didn’t I?” 

“Did you mean that?”

A chuckle escaped his lips, a noise that makes your breath catch, as the cart jerks again, pressing you both even closer, “I never say anything that I don’t mean, princess.” 

~~~

“Is following me around really necessary even after classes?” you hadn’t bothered to pull your usual disappearing act — it was counterproductive in multiple ways (the first being that either of them would find you and the second being you had to be glued to one of their sides at all times), “it’s not like someone is going jump from the shadows and kidnap me on campus.” 

“You don’t know that for sure, do you, princess?” Satoru drawls lazily, as he twirls his dinner knife around his fingers with a skill that said he’d done it a million times before — probably instead of doing the thing he was supposed to be doing, “a man comes up behind you while you’re studying or shopping, presses a weapon or gun to your side, just out of view, and he’s got the perfect hostage,” 

You raise an eyebrow, “You sound like you’ve done it before,” and the knife stops between his middle finger and pointer, the tip pointed at you, as he looks at you over the rim of his sunglasses. 

“Don’t get jealous, sweetheart, you’re the only girl I’d want to kidnap,” he leans forward and swipes a mochi from your plate — even though he had already ate his own — and you scoff, as you turn your attention back to your neglected dessert, choosing to use your brain cells to focus on your food instead of this psycho. 

“How lucky,” you mutter, as you stab your remaining mochi instead of your escort, “do the two of you have to take shifts like this? I’m surprised the two of you aren’t glued to my sides 24/7 together,” 

“We thought it was only fair the two of us split our time — and as much as I’d like to spend each and every hour with you, we both unfortunately have other responsibilities to tend to,” and he takes a bite of the mochi, “plus, this way, we get to spend time with you alone without the other interfering, and trust me, if I saw you with Suguru,” his lips curl, “I’d interfere,” 

“Well you don’t have to be worried about that, because I don’t plan on being with either one of you,” you reply, “I’m here to finish school and go home as soon as I can,” 

“You won’t be saying that once I make you fall for me,” 

You get to your feet, as you pull out your wallet — but Satoru waves you off, already pulling out his card for the waiter, “You’d have a better chance making me fall for you if you tripped me,” you roll your eyes, as you round the booth, and quick as a light, you trip right into his arms, your body bumping against his chest as his arms steady you. A hand tilts your face up to meet cerulean eyes filled with mirth, “did you trip—” 

And then you spot the chair leg you had tripped over oh-so-gratefully, “I don’t need to resort to those measures to make you fall for me, princess,” his finger traces your jaw with a featherlight touch, “I have plenty of other ways to do that,” 

You get to your feet properly and shove him away, as he chuckled, as you rolled your eyes, “Maybe in your twisted dreams, but—” And Satoru is tugging you away from the booth — a tight arm around you waist, as you stammer, “what the fuck are you—” 

“Guy’s been following you — just spotted him from a distance,” he murmurs, and your shoulders tense, resisting the urge to look back, “just keep walking with me, don’t worry,” his arm gently squeezed you, “won’t let anything happen to you, princess,” 

“Don’t call me that,” you murmur, as he leads you back inside the closest building, “where are we—” and he’s pulling out his phone, texting several people. 

“Getting us a ride in case I need to get you to safety, and letting Suguru know of the situation,” he offers you a small grin, “I could send you back, but that would be that and you will be on lockdown. Things might be getting a little more interesting from here — so it’s your choice, will you stay or go?” 

You considered your choices — you could run away from this, go back to the compound, but going back was a guarantee that you would be stuck 24/7 in the compound and stuck there for the remainder of your time here. And these two would take full advantage of that. Plus, your mind wandered to the girl who had been taken — you wanted to know more about what happened to her and why you were being targeted next. 

“Let’s go,” and his lips curl. The two of you round several street corners, Satoru’s arm remains tight around your waist, as he leads to a more and more secluded corner of the city, “is this the right move?” your hand wanders into your pocket, fingers around your collapsible pole. 

He sighs dramatically, “Do you have such little faith in me, sweetheart?” 

“Considering the two of you are insane, yes, I do,” and he clicks his tongue at you, “where—” 

And someone punches you, fist connecting with your left cheek as you stumble sideways into the wall of a nearby building. You hear the cock of a gun, your eyes catch sight of the weapon pointed at Satoru. You caught a glimpse as your eyes flicker open, several men stand behind him, all bearing weapons of some sort. 

Your ears ring, as you clutch at your head, as you struggle to get your balance, your vision in your left eye blurry from the impact,  “Come with me, and your girlfriend won’t have to watch you die,” you feel something warm run down your nose, and you touch it — scarlet stains your fingers. 

Fuck. 

Your eyes flicker back to where Satoru stands, eyes flickering to you, a shiver running down your spine at his hard gaze — not a hint of euphoria left — his lips a thin line, and his fists clenched, “I’ll fucking kill you,” his words leave in a whispered hiss, and quick as lightning, the gun is knocked from his fingers, and Satoru’s got him pinned down, fist winding back to punch his head in. The other men don’t hesitate to join the fray, just as Satoru doesn’t hesitate to take them down, blood spilling from their bodies as they fall one by one. 

You said you would be stronger — that you wouldn’t let this happen again. You weren’t some person who needed to be sheltered away. Your fingers clutched at the pole in your pocket, pulling it out, as you slowly uncollapsed it — you were a yakuza heir, just as much as these two were. 

One of them got up to shaky feet, lifting up his knife to stab Satoru from behind, “DIE!” and you slam into his side, hitting over the head with the pole — a grisly crack as the pole nearly snaps against his skull. 

“Fuck off and die!” the words leave your lips as you taste your own blood dripping from your nose. And you can feel Satoru turn to see you, eyes wide as he stares —  your words burn as much as your head hurts, as you wipe the blood from your nose. 

And the men are all down now, as Satoru walks over to you, and his fingers reach gently for your face, as he examines the blood dripping, “it’s just a nosebleed,” you say, and his gaze softens ever so slightly, before darkening, as a groan comes from the man that punched you. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” your heart flutters at his gentle touch, the calluses of his fingers against your cheek, as he pulls tissues from his pocket to wipe the blood from your nose. 

And his eyes linger on your face for a moment, before he turns to the culprit, fingers clenched tightly around the napkin soaked in your blood. 

He drags the man up by the collar, shaking him, a gurgled groan leaving his bloody lips, “You might want to go, sweetheart — I have to make sure I let this one die for ever laying a hand on my woman—“ and you clasp your hand on his shoulder, shaking your head. 

“He’s half dead already — you don’t need to finish the job,” and he pouts, shaking the man again for good measure. 

“You said he should die—“ 

You shrug, “People like this aren’t worth the trouble of killing. And you don’t need more problems on your hands — so if you’re doing this for me, don’t bother. Let’s just go,” 

And you see his lips slowly curl into a grin, as he pulls you into a hug, arms around you waist, as he runs his fingers through your hair gingerly, “I didn’t realize you cared, sweetheart,” and you frown, “don’t want me getting in more trouble, huh? If it’s for you, I’ll oblige, but you owe me one,” and his fingers slide under your chin. 

“Oi, is the party over without me?” A familiar voice calls, Suguru walks over, several other Yakuza in tow, his sleeves rolled up, as he takes a once over of the situation, seemingly uninterested in the scum, his eyes falling on you and Satoru, lingering on the blood that still was trickling from your nose. His eyes narrowed, “which one—” 

“It’s already taken care of, Suguru,” Satoru rubs the back of his head, “but for your information,” he kicks the one who had punched you in his side, forcing him to roll over, a slight groan escaping his lips, “that’s the one who hurt her,” 

Suguru nodded, stepping over the bodies as if it was nothing more than a spill that had been yet to be cleaned up, as his hand brushes over your chin softly, drawing close, a sharp gasp leaving your lips when his fingers decide to travel to your nose, “It’s not broken, just bleeding, but I should still get her checked out at the compound,” 

“You?” Satoru furrows his brow, “you’re going to leave me—” 

“To clean up your own mess? Yes, I am,” Suguru smiles, “because it’s my turn to keep watch,” as he shows his watch, already well past midnight, “and I should be getting her back to the compound,” the two glare at each other, a tension settling over the scene that you were far too done with. 

You sigh, stepping past both of them, walking over the bodies splayed out on the floor, “Let me know when you both decide,” you yawn, hands in your pockets now, “I need sleep,” and Suguru follows behind, and you don’t see him turn to smirk at Satoru. 

~~~~

You swore someone was watching you. 

A presence loomed over you, hovering slightly, as you shifted in your sleep, a sigh parting your lips as you turned, still caught between in realms of deep sleep as you drifted in and out, eyes fluttering open a moment, and caught sight of a shadow. 

No, it was nothing. It was nothing. And then you’d wake to sunlight filtering through your windows, eyes fluttering open, but you would still wake with the lingering touch of someone else against your face. 

But each morning you’d check the locks, and it would be locked, with no signs of tampering — and you’d be left wondering if it was a dream or not. 

It had been like this for the last week — you’d sense a presence, for a split second of what you thought was consciousness, and then it would be morning again. 

And finally, you decided to stay awake, a knife you had pilfered away from the kitchen under your pillow. You let your eyes drift shut, drifting in and out of a half sleep, until you hear it. 

The slow slide of the door opening, and the soft close of the door behind. The person takes nearly soundless steps towards you, before leaning above you and you feel the faint brush of hair against your skin, before leaning back with a quiet sigh. 

Suguru?

And his fingers slide through your hair softly. He watches over you, quietly, until you turn to face him, eyes open. 

“You know it’s really creepy to break into a woman’s room in the middle of the night,” and Suguru blinks, before his lips curl in a small smirk, “and it’s even weirder when you just sit there to watch her sleep,” 

“Just trying to make sure you’re safe, sweetheart,” 

“In a locked room?” And he shrugs. 

“I broke in easily,” and you scoff, as he rakes his own fingers through his hair, “who else would keep an eye on you?” 

You sit up, crossing your arms, “Surprised you and Satoru aren’t in here,” 

“We take turns,” and you stare at him, as he leans back against the wall, “all we do is keep watch princess — would you have let us in otherwise?” 

You open and shut your mouth, before you find words again amidst the haze of frustration, “I’m not so fucking helpless that you both need to sit here and watch me sleep,”

“We have been doing this since the threats began nearly and you only noticed recently,” he points out, his eyes catching the faint light of the moon, as cautious and patient as Suguru was — his expression as indiscernible as a new moon was, “and it’s only because Satoru had gotten sloppy,” he shrugs. 

You rub at your temples, “you’re not the only one who is a yakuza—“ 

Suguru tilts his head, “Princess, you don’t know what it means to be one — not even your fingers have never been bloodied, and it should stay that way—“ 

Your fingers close around the handle of the knife as you lunge at him — you snapped. You were tired — tired of the men in your life running your life — your grandfather, these yakuza heads, and these two idiots — all of them treating you as if you were spineless. 

And you weren’t. 

His hand darts out — and it happens quickly. The knife clatters against the hardwood, and he’s pinned you underneath him. 

You glare, embarrassment licks at your cheeks like flames — you had placed your fingers on the stovetop and what were you expecting other than to get burned? You can’t meet his gaze, and you’re expecting another lecture or sanctimonious attitude, but instead, his fingers skim your cheek, “You should pick your battles wisely, sweetheart — because not all of them will let you off the hook,” and he leans close, breath warming your lips, as your eyes can’t help but squeeze shut. 

Only to wince after a sharp flick to your forehead. 

And his weight leaves you at once, your head turning to find him examining the knife you had stolen, “You should also choose a better weapon than a kitchen knife — especially one as dull as this one,” 

You scowl at him, “Well, how else will I defend myself?” 

And he smiles, shrugging, “Isn’t it simple? Use the weapons already at your disposal,” 

Your brow knots together, “What weapons?” And his hand is sliding the door open, as he casts one more glance over his shoulder, lips curled in that insufferable smile. 

“The ones sworn to you.” 

~~~~ 

“You’re staying home tomorrow from class,” the thermometer is plucked from between your lips, the white haired yakuza scrutinizing your room, cerulean eyes catching the pile of tissues you had failed to stuff properly in your trash bin, “how long have you had this, Princess?” 

You lay bedridden and pouting as you draw the covers over your face — you had not been feeling well this whole weekend, but you developed a fever last night. You thought it would be gone by the morning, “Just since this morning,” and he’s tugging the covers away, his brow wrinkled, and then you see it, bandages on his forehead, “when did you get hit on the head?” 

And he blink, fingers running through his hair, “This? It’s nothing,” and you raise an eyebrow, “if you must know, it’s just my punishment for taking you into the thick of things the other day,” 

Your brow wrinkles, “Who—“ 

He waves you off, “It’s not important — the important thing is that you get better — can’t have my future wife succumbing to the flu, now can I?” And you scoff. 

“I’m not your future wife,” you mumble, and you hear a small chuckle from him. And then your muscles begin to grow heavy, eyelids fluttering shut under the weight of exhaustion, and your skin feeling far too cold for your burning insides, “Gojo, I’m not—“ 

And you slip into darkness. 

You can feel the world around you move, the sounds of wind brushing against your skin, and the flicker of lights in your eyes. Your lips part, a desert inside your mouth with no oasis in sight, “where—“

A voice quietly shushes you, fingers raking through your hair gently, lulling you back to sleep. Was it your grandfather? No, he never coddled you like this. Not even he had his yakuza to look after. You were expected to care for yourself —- you couldn’t show weakness. 

Not as an heir — even if you were just a kid. 

And when you do wake for a moment, it’s with some prodding, a voice whispering for you to open your mouth at the press of a medicine cap to your lips, and your eyes flutter open to catch a glimpse of blue eyes — so you do, swallowing it with water. 

You fall into the arms of sleep again, only waking to your head slightly aching, and a distinct void in your stomach. You reach around blindly for your phone, and find that it’s still Sunday, nearly the evening. Your eyes adjust as your gaze spots the last glimmers of the sunset in the window. 

How long have you slept? Like four hours? You sighed, slumping back into bed, as you stretched. Your fingers pressed to your forehead, still a slight fever, but it was definitely lower. Maybe you could sleep for a bit longer, and you turn on your side only to find a familiar, not-so familiar sight. Your lips can’t help but curl a little. Again there is someone in your room, but instead as your eyes flutter open you see that Satoru has dozed off.

You hold back a chuckle, as you slowly get up, drawing a little closer. His head was against the wall, slightly tilted, soft breaths leaving his lips, arms crossed. He had a prescription medicine next to him along with a water bottle. Your fingers reach for the medicine, and you glance it over — seeing that it was prescribed earlier today for you. 

Your brows knit together, when did you—and then it comes back to you slowly — the lights, the sound of wind and cars — he drove you to a hospital. And his shoulder starts to slip 

And then you reach for him, trying to make sure he didn’t hurt himself. 

That’s when he grabs you — his eyes fly open, as he grabs you by the wrist, pulling you close, his hard topaz gaze cuts through you, until it slowly fills with recognition. His fingers digging into your wrist loosen ever so slightly, as he blinks. 

“Sorry about that, sweetheart,” but his fingers don’t leave your wrist, “are you feeling better?” 

“I am,” you admit, as his other hand reaches up to brush against your forehead and then neck, sending hest crawling up your skin for a different reason. 

“Looks like the medicine worked,” he sighs, leaning back, “guess I can scratch beating up that doctor off my list,” and you furrow your brow, “it was a joke, Princess,” 

“Why did you take me?” You asked and he tilted his head, “I mean you could have had me looked at here, so why did you—“ 

“As much as my father pays for these services, they don’t work weekends, usually — we do have an on-call physician, but,” he shrugs, as his thumb brushed back and forth against your wrist, right where your pulse was, “I didn’t want to wait,” 

And your eyes slide to the bandages around his head, “but you couldn’t get that checked out?” 

“Worried about me? I’m touched, Princess,” and your fingers reach for the bandages and brush against his locks, “hey, you—“ 

“It’s coming loose,” you lean over and slide your hands until you find where it’s coming undone and tie it tighter, fingers brushing against his soft locks — noting the undercut you hadn’t noticed before, “there,” 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, as your eyes meet his and your breath catches, your face an inch or two from his. And he looks different in the dark of the room, illuminated by the last vestiges of sun that were quickly fading into the night — softer. 

“Why did you take care of me?” And he blinks a moment, taken aback and he tilts his head, “someone else could have—“ 

“I wanted to,” he cuts you off gently, “why would I let someone else do it when I could? It was the least I could do,” and it was your turn to tilt your head, as he adds in a whisper, “I let you get hurt. I should have sent you home,” 

“If you had tried, I would have stayed anyway,” and he chuckles. 

“I know,” he murmurs, “and I know what it’s like to tough through things as if you’re invincible — as if nothing can touch you — and it’s only a matter of time until it does,” and your fingers brush against the bandages on his head, as you dare closer, less than a breath away. 

“Maybe I should make you take your own advice,” you whisper, and his lips quirk upwards in a smirk. 

“I’d love to see you try, Princess,” he adds with a grin, “you know I’d love to submit to you anyti—“ 

And you swallow the rest of his sentence with your lips, a chaste brush that leaves your entire body burning for more — a spark to kindling that you told yourself you wouldn’t start. But, your lips part his to see his soft gaze meeting your own, before finding your lips again, how could you not? 

“I’m going to get you sick,” you manage between kisses, lips meeting and parting, as he chuckles against you, a vibration sending a shiver that definitely wasn’t from your fever.

“You’re worth it, Princess,” but he kisses you one last time, noses brushing, before your stomach rumbles loudly in the relative silence of both of your soft pants. You flush, and he can’t hold back his laugh, as you smack his shoulder.  

“Shut up, I haven’t eaten since breakfast, thanks to someone,” and he’s still laughing as you try to smack him again, but he catches you by the wrist. 

“Don’t forget, I really like it when you punish me,” his lips press to your wrist, your breath catching for a moment before you hit him again on the chest regardless. And he laughs, leaning on his hand, “oh what will I do with you, sweetheart?” 

You scowl at him, rolling your eyes, “You can start by getting me dinner,” you grumble, and he repents, getting to his feet, “Satoru?” And he pauses, eyes flickering back, “thank you,” you manage, biting your lip all the whole, unable to meet his eyes or see the smile on his lips. 

“Anytime, Princess.” 

~~~~

You hadn’t seen Suguru or Satoru all week. 

Once a sought after rarity l, but now a foreboding concern. Satoru had been away on business — you didn’t care to know what, but you knew he’d come back only more clingy than ever. You chewed on your lip — especially after the kiss. 

Fuck. You kissed Satoru, you buried your face in your hands, what the fuck were you doing? Could you use the excuse that your fever had rendered you momentarily insane? No, Satoru would only crack a joke saying that he’s crazy for you too. 

What was your plan? You were only trying to bide your time for a year — not become further entangled 

You lay back on your bed, as you scroll through your phone — but Suguru was a different story. You heard from Satoru that he had returned. Yet now there was some random yakuza checking in each hour  — and even worse, keeping you confined to the compound. 

And a small part of you did worry for them as you tossed your phone aside — those fools may have death wishes but that didn’t mean you wished the same. 

You leave your room, sighing as you explore the compound. You had done your fair share of exploring, but you had never wandered into Suguru or Satoru’s quarters. You had been told by each of them where their rooms were, only for you to glare at them for providing you the implication. But now…maybe it was useful. 

You walked through the halls — seemed like most people were away at the moment. When Satoru had captured those people who had attacked you both, there was information learned about who was targeting you and of where that girl who was taken could possibly be. But it’s not like you were able to find that information out — unless you went looking yourself. 

Satoru and Suguru’s rooms were close to each other’s — but Satoru’s room was locked, as you tugged at the door to no avail. You glared at the handle as if it was the white haired idiot itself, before turning to Suguru’s door. 

You pressed your ear to the door, it was silent, not a single noise inside. You pull at the door and it opens. You step inside — the room is neat, a desk in the corner, along with a bed on the opposite side, but not much else. There were a few other things — a dresser with a few containers tucked beside it and a small bookcase against the wall near the desk lined with books on each shelf. 

It wasn’t what you expected — though you didn’t know what to expect. You stepped into the room, glancing around, as you approached the desk first. You rifle through the papers, finding nothing relevant — only papers from class and a few scattered notes that had nothing but addresses and initials scribbled. 

And then the door opens, you freeze, before you slowly turn to see Suguru, his clothes tattered, blood dripping from his arms and soaked through his white button up. His gaze is dark and heavy, until he finds your eyes, his brow wrinkled. 

“What are you doing?” no ‘sweetheart’ or ‘Princess’ — just a question. 

“I was looking—“ but you bite your lips, as you watch his shoulders slump, “what happened—“ 

And he draws closer, as you slowly take steps back, until he’s looming over you, his arm pressed above you, “Princess, you shouldn’t get involved in these things, unless you want to end up like this,” and the smell of death rolls off of him, the heaviness of his gaze could drag you down to the depths of hell — but you didn’t care. 

“Sit down,” and he blinks, before you’re pressing him onto the bed, “I’m going to get a first aid kit and some bandages,” 

“Sweetheart—“ but you’re already out of the room, returning with a first aid kit and bandages, “where did you—“ 

“Well after that first time Satoru and I got jumped by those people, I figured it would be good to stock up on things,” you pull out scissors and tape, and you dampen a washcloth you had stored in the kit with a water bottle you had grabbed. “Take off your shirt,” he hesitates, “getting shy?” 

Suguru’s lips curl, before he sighs, unbuttoning his shirt, “You know I rather you hurt me than take care of me,” and you scoff, as you busy yourself with preparing the materials to tend to him. 

“Well it looks like someone else already did that for you,” and your eyes meet with his bare chest, the red and black ink of his tattoos encroached onto his shoulders, but more than that — bruises bloomed on different parts of his body, scars from old wounds of various ages littered his skin, and dried and fresh scarlet clung to his skin from fresh cuts. 

You take the washcloth, slowly starting to run it over his body, the white cloth marred with his blood, he doesn’t flinch even as it cleans his cuts or wounds.  

“Why are you doing this?” And your eyes meet his, his amethyst eyes cut through you. 

“Because you’re hurt,” 

“Just because I’m hurt doesn’t mean you have to help,” you sigh, as you urge him to turn so you can clean his back next, the sight of his tattoo on his back unsurprising now as you continue to clean it. 

“Doesn’t mean you don’t have to either,” he gives a soft chuckle, “what’s your goal here sweetheart?” You urge him to turn again, as you begin to clean the blood from his arms. 

“Do I need to have a goal?” And he turns to face you, leaning even closer, as his black locks fall in his eyes. 

“Everyone has one — didn’t you have one for coming in here?” And your hesitation is all the answers he needs, “curious about what’s going on with those people after you, huh?” 

There wasn’t any use lying now, “Wouldn’t you be?” 

“I would be, but I wouldn’t get caught, now would I?” and you scoff, as his lips curl, “we have been tracking the group that we suspect has the heiress, and we have been interrogating the people that you and Satoru secured,” ‘secured’ — more like nearly murdered by the way Satoru acted. 

“And where were you?” 

He sighed, “Dealing with some loose ends — and some other business that my father had me deal with,” and he adds, “I had to make sure a message got out — so no one would ever attack you like that again,”

And why does your heart squeeze at the thought, “Why are you so willing to tell me?” And your hands begin to clean and wipe his palms. And you set the washcloth down, beginning to bandage some of the larger cuts and wounds, and his fingers intertwined with yours, as you glance up. 

“Because you deserve the truth,” he shrugs, “and even if I lie, you’ll figure it out, so why not tell you to begin with?” And he leans even closer, fingers skimming your cheek, “plus I don’t keep secrets from my future wife,” 

“I’m not marrying you,” but you don’t pull away, as he’s even closer now. 

“Well, you said never before — and I’ve worn you down to a ‘not’ — it’s only a matter of time,” and his words make you want you to pull away, to scoff at his words and leave, but you don’t. 

Why can’t you? 

“And I thought Satoru was the one full of himself—“ and his lips find yours, his kiss was more insistent, his fingers find your jaw, featherlight before it finds purchase on the back of your neck. You could taste the faint taste of blood, lingering on his lips, 

“And you also thought Satoru was a good kisser,” he smirks, as his lips ghost down your jaw, nose brushing against your cheek, as you pause — how did he— “well now you know what a good kisser is actually like,” 

Your eyebrows knit together, “Geto—” 

“Suguru,” he corrects you, he tilts his head, his thumb cupping your chin, and your lips find the other’s, his forehead pressed to yours. Then his phone rings, and the moment’s broken. He pulls away just as fast, as he turns to answer his phone, “Hello?” he listens, a man’s voice on the other end, “I understand, okay.” and the call ends, as he offers a smile to you, “I have to deal with some business, but I’ll be back later. And then it looks like I’ll be your escort while Satoru is away.” 

“What business—” but he’s brushing past you, going to his wardrobe to grab a fresh shirt, buttoning it swiftly, before pulling on another jacket, as he turns to glance at you over his shoulder. 

“You know better than to ask me that,”

“But you said you would be honest,” and he shrugs his shoulders, a smirk on his lips, as he heads out of the room. 

“I didn’t say when.” 

~~~~

“We have to tell her,” Satoru stood, hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall of the compound. Suguru clicks his lighter again, flicking it on and off — he had quit a few months ago when you had told him that you hated the smell. And he didn’t miss it, but he still carried the lighter — old habits die hard, “the pictures we got — they are getting better at tracking her without us noticing. And these other fires we’re being sent out to deal with — it’s leaving us with less time to protect her,”

“Do you have to?” Suguru asked, flicking his lighter closer, the silver outside glinting in the low light of the moon, “isn’t it safer for her to stay in the dark for now?” 

“Staying in the dark doesn’t mean she won’t put herself in danger one way or another without us knowing,” Satoru shrugs, “she said even if I had sent her home that day that those men were after her, she would have came after me,” 

Suguru gives a terse chuckle, “I don’t doubt that she would,” he sighs, gaze towards the inky darkness of the sky, dotted with faint stars that he couldn’t see but knew were there — just as these threats were, “if she found out that her grandfather was threatened too? There’s no way she would wait,” 

“So what do we do?” Satoru scratched the back of his head, “we could send her back home — she might be safer there than here,” 

“Her grandfather told us—“ 

“I know, but what choice do we have, Suguru?” he sighs, and Suguru can’t help but quirk his lips. 

“You know if we do this, we may have to fight her grandfather to stay engaged with her,” And Satoru smiles, shrugging. 

“I know, but we can handle it, can’t we?” Satoru leans back, “we’ll just have to fight him on it. Why? Are you afraid?”  

Suguru gives a short chuckle, “Since when have you known me to be afraid of anything?” And he turns his gaze towards the door, “so when should we tell her?” 

But they don’t notice that you’re pressed against the door, your fists clenched. And they were right about one thing — you wouldn’t wait. 

~~~~

CRACK! 

Fuck, your eyes burned as you tried to open them, the sharp pain in the back of your head radiating all over, as your eyelids refused to open. What happened? You tried to hold your head, only to have your wrists strain against something rough — rope? The fibers dig into your wrists as you try to stand, only to find them bound to something else. 

“Finally awake?” it was a woman’s voice — and your eyes still can’t quite open — fuck, this wasn’t part of your plan, “take your time, they said they wanted you in pristine condition so I can’t have you falling apart on me later on,” she scoffs, her footsteps receding away, and you could hear the quiet murmurs of other voices — men, by the baritone. 

Your eyes burned as you adjusted to opening them, still fighting the urge to flutter them shut under the pain. The dim light swung overhead, a warehouse from the bare floors and even barer walls and ceilings overhead, barely illuminated in the flickering exposed lightbulbs hanging over the middle of the room. 

“Where am I?” You choked out, voice wavering in a way that made you want to grit your teeth and chide yourself for the fear that seeped into your words. 

The quiet click of heels came closer, “Don’t recognize me? Well I suppose you never did see my face in person,” and you knit your brows together as she stepped closer, leaning in far too near for your comfort, “I should thank you for your efforts in trying to find out what happened to me. It made it far easier to kidnap you,” 

Her hazel eyes were even more startling in person. 

“The Akawaza heiress,” you stare at her — her hair had grown a little past her shoulders now, ends slightly curling at them, “I thought—“ 

“I was missing? I was,” her lips curled, running her sharp lacquered nails through her black locks, “but it was my choice,” the screech of chair legs scraping against the floor makes you flinch ever so slightly, as she sits in front of you, her legs crossed, “I’m being rude — how is your grandfather?” 

“Fuck off,” you spit, and she clicks her tongue. 

“And here I thought you had manners, but I suppose the city’s changed you, little princess?” she hums, leaning back, wood of the chair creaking as she did, “or maybe your boyfriends did,” you say nothing, scoffing, as she sighs, “or knowing your grandfather, you probably didn’t have any to begin with,” 

Rage fills your veins, lava bursting from them as the venom leaves your lips, “Don’t talk about my grandfather like that—” 

“Why shouldn’t I? You never cared for the yakuza before, right? Is your grandfather not included in that equation? Or maybe it was because he kept what he did behind closed doors, and never bothered to tell you the truth,” and you’re not fast enough to stop your brow from furrowing, and she latches onto it, “Oh he didn’t tell you, did he?” 

“You really love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?” you murmur, and she laughs at your remark, her nails clicking against the forearm of the chair — lacquer on wood that began to grate on your nerves, “can you get to the point of all this shit? Why the fuck am I here?” 

“Because your grandfather is picking and choosing who he favors — and so I decided to take his heart, and I’ll only give her back if he gives me what I want — ” and then you see the way her lips curl and her jaw is cut, and it occurs to you. 

Your grandfather had said he was a heartbreaker. 

“You’re his granddaughter,” and she smirks, her nails falling still. 

“Do you see the family resemblance?” she leans against her hand, elbow against the arm of her chair, “it would be nice to meet you — if I didn’t have to possibly kill you,” 

“So you want to be the heiress? I never wanted to be one in the first place—” 

“Do you think that matters?” she scoffs, “what matters is the choice your grandfather makes —  and he’s chosen you — with no regard for the other children he has had,” her gaze falls downward, “do you know what it is like to watch your mother vye for the approval of someone who never truly cared for her in the first place?” 

Your gaze falls downward, “I don’t know,” you admit, “but is all this worth this? What do you think he will even do for me?” 

“He’ll meet my demands, and each hour he doesn’t, he’ll get another finger of yours,” she pulls a knife out, the blade glinting in the dim light, as she rises to her feet, your body straining back as she draws close to you, running the flat of the blade down your cheek, “should I start with your left hand or right?” she pulls the blade back, and you smile, “what—” 

And you lean your head back and smash your head against her own. The crack of your skulls colliding rung in your ears, along with the knife clattering to the ground, as you felt warm droplets ran down your face, and she stumbles back, clutching at her forehead, scarlet staining her face and fingers, “It’s funny you think that I came to you without a plan — how do you think I found you?” 

“It wasn’t on her own,” and a hand on her shoulder, before she’s pinned to the floor. Satoru’s eyes slide to you, a smile on his lips, as she’s struggling, trying to look for her men, “looking for your goons? Suguru has taken care of them by now, unless he needs my help,” 

“Akari isn’t the only one who likes to hear herself talk,” Suguru runs his fingers through his hair, “Satoru, you haven’t even untied her,” his footsteps echoing as he approaches you, bending down to pick up Akari’s knife. 

“A little busy at the moment, Suguru,” Gojo has Akari pinned with one hand, “unless you’d like her to get away,” and Suguru shrugs, as he slips the knife under your restraints and cuts them off, “are you doing alright, sweetheart?” 

“I’m fine, just my head’s aching,” and Suguru pulls a cloth from his pocket, wiping the blood from your face, your eyes closing and nose wrinkling as he does, “did you call my grandfather?” 

“Yeah, I don’t have a death wish,” Satoru replies as he hauls Akari up and hands her off to his associate to take her. 

You get to shaky feet, “Hold on,” you walk over, grabbing Akari by the front of her blouse, silk wrinkling under your grasp, “fuck with me or my family again, and I won’t be so lenient,” you shove her off, and then you add, “but I’ll talk to my grandfather about some sort of possible arrangement for your mother,” 

And then you wave the yakuza off and they take her away — assuredly to Kyoto to be dealt with by her grandfather. 

“Are you really going to talk to your grandfather about her?” Suguru asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s the least he could do since he caused me to be targeted,” you grumble, rubbing your wrists, as Satoru takes his suit coat off and places it around your shoulders, before a smirk pulls at your lips. 

Suguru tilts his head, smiling, “Well, how would he feel if he knew you got kidnapped on purpose?” And you shrug. 

“He doesn’t need to know that.” 

~~~

“I’m surprised you guys agreed to my plan,” you hiss as Satoru takes a damp cloth to clean the dried blood from your face, while Suguru is knelt, bandaging your ankles — their rough and bruised hands somehow still gentle, “I thought you would never let me wander into danger,” 

“Well, we knew we had to do something when we realized you were listening to us, didn’t we, Princess?” Satoru snorted, and you could hear the smile gracing his features — even with your eyes shut — “and this was the best way to ensure you weren’t hurt,” 

“Relatively,” Suguru adds, as he finishes bandaging one ankle, “did she do anything else to you?” 

And Satoru’s hand pauses as they both wait for your answer, and you shake your head, “No,” and Satoru pulls the washcloth away, your eyes fluttering open to meet two skeptical gazes, “really, I’m fine,” your lips curl after the two of them look away, Satoru turning to grab a bag of ice for your forehead, while Suguru busied himself with bandaging your other ankle, “is this threat the reason my grandfather sent me to Tokyo?” 

The timing had lined up — Akari had started the threats not a few months before — after she had reached legal age, the perfect age to contend for the position of successor to her grandfather. And by sending you here, your grandfather thought he was putting you out of immediate danger — but he didn’t know Akari would make her way to Tokyo. 

“More or less,” Satoru sighed, as you flinched when he pressed the ice pack to your head, the condensation from the bag already clinging and dripping down your face, “the geezer wanted to find the source of the threats against you—and by sending you here, to your potential fiancés—“ 

“I would be safe protected twofold by two of the biggest families—“ and you blink, pulling the ice pack away from your face, “the engagements — that’s why they were leaked — it was to protect me,” you mumble, “so that means—“ 

“You can go home if you want, Princess,” Suguru says, looking up at you, expression as inscrutable as it always was, “the engagements were only pretense,” 

“You both knew?” And Satoru sighs, scratching the back of his head, and why does it feel as if his nails are carving out a piece of your heart. 

“The old coot swore us to secrecy, we didn’t have—“ 

“But, everything, the two of you…the engagement—it’s over,” you say slowly, gaze falling downward. You should be happy, relieved, thrilled — you could go home, what you wanted to do from the start. You could get your own apartment or transfer to a different university—and leave this behind, a bad dream washed away by the events of a new day. So why? 

Why did it hurt? 

“Don’t tell me you’ll actually miss us, sweetheart?” Satoru teased, a force more than anything — bittersweet worded coated in a sugary sarcasm, “because I very well may propose here and now,” 

You almost scoff, but Suguru beats you to it. 

“A proposal now? Seems like finishing early isn’t what you just do in bed, Satoru,” Suguru scoffs, as Satoru shoots a glare over his sunglasses, “she’s only eager to get home now isn’t she? "If she isn’t so eager,” he adds, “then she would stop the one she wants from leaving her room, wouldn’t she?” 

And Suguru is slowly getting to his feet, while Satoru also turns to leave — and you don’t think—but you were sure that you truly hadn’t thought a single sane thought since you had arrived in Tokyo—

You grab at the fabric of both their shirts, fingers clutching at it, as your lips curled when they glanced back at you. 

“Who said either of you could leave?”

~~~

“You’re going to have to use your words,” you murmured, fingers ghosting Satoru’s jaw, a delightful shiver parting his lips as you smiled at him, sat spread at the edge of your bed, “what do you want?” You stepped closer, between his legs, daring even closer. 

“Sweetheart, you know what I—“ and a low groan leaves his throat as your fingers slide to the nape of his neck to tug at his snowy locks, “please—“ 

“I know you love this,” you murmur, leaning to press a kiss to his throat, smiling against his skin, “you said you wanted me to hurt you, so it looks like you’re getting your wish,” your eyes slide to the other, sat in a chair, “I know you like to watch, Suguru, so you must be enjoying yourself,” and you’re further unbuttoning Satoru’s shirt all the same — crisp white button up definitely creased and wrinkled as it fell open, tugged out from his slacks. 

Suguru’s fingers flexed against the grain of the wood of the armrests, his muscles taut, his lips a tight line that only matched the fabric of his slacks straining against his erection. The corner of his mouth twitches, and you smirk. 

“I didn’t hear an answer, Suguru,” and you’re placing another kiss on Satoru’s neck, a whine leaving his throat, while your eyes find Suguru’s amethyst gaze darkened to nearly black, his knuckles white against the wood, as you lean down to lick a stripe up Satoru’s neck, who bites his bottom lip. 

“I’d enjoy it even more if I could touch you, or me,” Suguru adds through gritted teeth, “Princess—“ 

And you click your tongue, “You had such patience when you were watching me sleep — so where’s that patience now?” Your fingers graze Satoru’s erection through his slacks, and his head is falling back, as Suguru shifts in his seat, not so subtly adjusting himself. 

You undo Satoru’s belt, unbuckling it with ease, as his cock slaps against his stomach, and you didn’t know it was possible for a dick to be pretty, but Satoru’s was — a deep flush settled over it, pearly beads of precum dripping from the ruby tip. And a distinct heat begins to throb between your thighs. 

“You can touch yourself,” you tell Suguru, his legs twitching to get up, “but you can’t cum until I tell you can,” you run a finger up Satoru’s cock, teasing the weeping tip, a groan leaving the snowy haired man’s lips, “strip, Suguru,” 

And he does, you hear the click of his belt, the sound of fabric rustling, as your fingers tease the slit of Satoru’s cock, gathering precum on your fingers, drawing a grunt from his lips. You can hear the distinct sound of Suguru spitting in his palm, his hand beginning to work at his own cock. 

“Both s’good for me,” you murmur, as you stroke Satoru’s cock in earnest, the quiet moans from both their mouths sending a ribbon of need to your already dripping cunt, “can’t wait to fuck you both, make you my toys,” and you’re pressing a kiss to Satoru’s tip, his pretty, pink lips parting, as his head rolls back again, “but you’d both like that wouldn’t you? Maybe I shouldn’t let either of you cum, make you beg me all night,” as your tongue traces his lovely vein up the side of his cock, “what do you think, Toru?” And your mouth finally closes around his dick, sucking hard that draws a hiss from his lips, fingers fisted in the sheets. 

And Suguru isn’t doing much better, the sounds of his hand squelching and the moans leaving his lips growing louder and louder. 

“Please, Princess, I’m close, I can’t—“ and you click your tongue, a pout on your lips, as you pull away your touch, “baby, I—“ 

“Can’t let either of you cum so fast,” your eyes slide to Suguru, his cheeks flushed a lovely pink that reaches even his ears, as his hand slows, his cock twitching in his fingers, “gotta make you earn it. It’s only right after all the shit you put me through right?” 

It’s a cycle, a cycle of you bringing them both to the edge of orgasm, only to tell them to stop. Their sweat slicked brows wrinkled, as you worked them up once again and again and again — you had lost track of how many times. 

“Please, please, sweetheart,” and you knew you could get Satoru to beg, but you didn’t think it would be this easy, and you let his dick brush against your throat, as you let him fuck your throat, hips jerking, “fuuuuck, I need to—” 

And you’re pulling your lips from his cock with a pop, glancing at Suguru whose black locks are beginning to come loose from their neat bun, more of a mess now than he had been fighting yakuza earlier, and all because of you. 

“Suguru? Wanna cum?” you ask, smirking as his gaze raises to meet yours, a desperate look that tells you everything you need to know, “be a good boy and tell me,” 

He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, as pre drips down his knuckles, “fuck, Princess,” he’s shaking his head, “ I want to cum, please — I need—” 

And your lips curl, “cum for me,” you murmur before you’re wrapping your lips around Satoru again, his tip brushing against your throat, sucking hard, his fingers finding purchase in your hair. And he’s cumming hard, his hot release slides down your throat, nails digging into your scalp, nearly never ending — even as you pull away, his cum paints your face and lips, and drips onto your clothes. His cerulean eyes glazed as he looked down at you between his legs, a string of spit and cum connecting you to his cock. 

And Suguru was no better. He had cum hard all over his hand and the floor, his cock still somehow half hard, his body slumped back in the chair, as his chest heaved. His hair tie had long fallen away, his long black locks brushing against his shoulders. 

You lick your lips clean of Satoru’s cum, wiping the rest away with the back of your hand, “Made such a mess,” you tsk, as you get to your feet, slipping off your shorts and shirt, before leaning down to kiss Satoru, and he’s still sensitive by the way he jolts against your touch, before melting into it, his tongue parted your lips with ease. And fuck, you hoped he couldn’t see how wet you were — nearly dripping down your thighs at this point. 

And you’re pulling away, your thumb dragging down his lips, as his teeth try to catch the finger between them, but you’re too quick. You turn, a smile on your lips, you make your way over to Suguru. 

You’re wiping up the mess on the floor with your shirt before kneeling, “made such a mess, Sugu,” and he’s staring at you through half lidded eyes, his fingers brushing your cheek, “did I say you could touch me?” 

“You never said I couldn’t,” he murmurs, and god, his voice is far gone, raw and nearly guttural, as his fingers found purchase in your hair, “and I think I earned it after your little performance—“ and he hisses when you lean in, tip of your tongue teasing his slit and licking the dripping cum off his half hard cock, “fuck—“ 

“Not yet,” you smiled, as you started to lick his cock clean of his cum, “but maybe if you’re good,” he grunts as you sink is cock into your mouth, tongue swirling around his length, licking and sucking — and fuck, he was already twitching in your mouth. 

And then he’s easing you off his dick with a tug of your hair, and you’re glancing up at him, a question on the tip of your tongue, but he’s swallowing it with a kiss, as his hands slip down your body to haul you nearly into his lap. Calloused palms find their way to your hips, squeezing lightly, as he pulls away, cupping your chin with his thumb. 

“Suguru—” and you yelp as he picks you up with ease, placing you in Satoru’s lap whose hands wind their way around your waist, his fingers already beginning to tease your hardened buds through your bra, a gasp leaving your lips, as Suguru placed his on your neck with a smirk as he murmurs:

 “Let me show you how good we can be, sweetheart.” 

~~~~

“Tell us what you want, princess,” Satoru murmured in your ear, his warm breath doing nothing to help the needy heat between your thighs, the one that Suguru was knelt between, his large palms spreading you before him, “is she as wet as I think, Suguru?” 

And Suguru catches your gaze, a wicked smile on his lips as he replies, “Wetter, she’s a mess, aren’t you?” you bite your lip to stop a whimper from leaving your lips as his fingers graze the growing wet patch on your panties. And your squirming only makes Satoru grunt, his erection pressed against you, the friction doing little to help either of you. 

“Fuckers,” and Satoru clicks his tongue, a smile on his lips as he turns your head. 

“Think I have a better use for that mouth of yours, sweetheart,” and his lips find yours, right as Suguru toys with the elastic of your panties, snapping it against your skin, Satoru swallows the small noise that escapes your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth as it does. 

And god, you already can’t even think straight. 

Satoru’s fingers are pushing up your bra, teasing your nipples, as Suguru pressing a kiss to your dripping cunt through your soaked underwear. 

“So pretty,” Suguru murmurs, and Satoru’s lips part from yours, gaze darkening as he drags his thumb down your kiss ruined lips, and he tugs your drenched panties down, “and your cunt is even prettier, isn’t it princess?” 

And you were — your gorgeous pussy was glossy with your pre, dripping all over his fingers when he parts your messy folds, “Bet she’s even tighter, isn’t she?” Satoru murmurs, as his dick twitches against your ass, “

You whine as his words warm your aching pussy, your eyes flickering downwards, as Suguru’s lips graze your inner thigh, and you already know Satoru’s pouting. 

“You’re taking your goddamn time, Suguru, when do I get my chance?” He grumbles, nose brushing against your neck, as you can’t help but chuckle. 

“You got your turn, and now it’s time for you to watch,” and your giggle turns to a soft gasp when his lips press a kiss to your clit, “and sweetheart, can’t wait to see how you’ll punish me for this later — because I’m not stopping until you beg me to,”

Your lips part with a reply, but he pulls a moan from your lips instead as his tongue drags up the length of your weeping entrance. God, fuck, how did you taste this good? His tongue flicked against your puffy clit, drawing lazy circles, your slick already drenching his chin and lips. 

“So fucking good, baby, s’good f’me,” and your fingers are threading their way into his dark locks, pulling him even closer, his lips closing around your clit to suck, “could live in this pretty cunt,” he grunts, the tip of his tongue teasing your entrance. 

Your head falls against Satoru’s shoulders, a groan fell from his lips as his cock dragged against your ass, your slick drenching his thighs and cock alike, “can’t wait to sink my cock into you, fuck,” Satoru murmurs, the wet squelch of your cunt rang in his ears, and he could imagine how wet and warm you’d be once he sunk into you, inch by inch. 

And he couldn’t wait — he needed to do something. 

Satoru’s fingers found their way down your body, tweaking your nipple before one large palm dragged slowly down your front, until he found your clit right above Suguru’s face. 

“Toru,” you gasp, as his fingers pinch your clit and Suguru glares, pulling his lips away for a moment, only to sink a finger back in insteas, drawing a moan from your lips, “Sugu—fuck—“ 

And it’s too much, one more touch and you’re cumming, body falling back into Satoru, as Suguru fucks you through your orgasm. Your release runs down their fingers, as Satoru lifts his hand a moment to lick his fingers clean. 

God, you’re too pretty for your own good, Satoru’s eyes drag over you — your kiss ruined lips, skin shiny from your sweat, and the way your eyes were lost in an endless pool of lust. 

“Suguru was right, you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” Satoru grin, gently turning your head, and you’re panting, nose wrinkling ever so slightly at his words, and he tuts, “don’t believe me? Well I can fix that,” and his lips find yours again, letting you taste yourself, swallowing your moans, as Suguru continued to finger fuck you. 

Suguru’s finger stretches you open, fluttering, knuckle deep, as your precum drips down his fingers. 

“Remember who’s fucking this cunt, sweetheart,” and Suguru is, another finger parting your needy folds, and between Satoru rubbing your clit and Suguru’s fingers curling to find that one spot, drags against your insides, “fuck, how are we going to fit, Satoru? She’s still so tight,” Suguru grunts. 

You pull your lips from Satoru’s, a whine leaving your lips, “More, please, I need—“ and a third finger joins the other two — but it’s not Suguru’s. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking soft,” Satoru groans, pressing soft kisses to your skin, only serving to make you keen at their touch, and your walls flutter around their fingers. 

“Fuck, we’re trying to fuck her open and she just keeps getting tighter,” Suguru grunts, while Satoru’s lips find your earlobe, sucking, just as he adds another finger, a moan escaping your lips again. 

Suguru’s fingers fuck at a steady pace, fucking deeper and deeper, while Satoru’s are faster, pistoning in and out while dragging against your walls — and it’s not long until they are working you up to a second orgasm, it’s too fucking good — and they both find that spot in you that has you seeing stars. 

“I’m g’nna—” and Satoru finds your lips in a sloppy kiss, saliva slipping from the corner of your mouth. And you cum, even harder, your swollen folds clamping down on their fingers as they continue to fuck you unendingly through your orgasm. Your lips pull away, only to moan their names, again and again, until they finally slow down. 

“Good girl,” Suguru murmurs, pressing sweet kisses to your thighs, while you come down from your high, walls flutter around nothing at the praise, while Satoru nips at your neck right above your racing pulse. And your eyes find Suguru lazily palming his weeping erection, as you lift your bare foot to rub against it, making him hiss, while you rub against Satoru teasingly. 

“Don’t forget who’s in control,” you kiss Satoru again, before biting his bottom lip, and he’s melting into your touch, “and, you were good,” your foot rubs against Suguru’s cock again, drawing another pretty groan from his lips, “but now it’s time to be obedient.” 

And they are — as you have Satoru sit back against the pillow lined headboard, because if it was anything you knew now — Satoru loved to be controlled, while Suguru liked the illusion of control, even if he didn’t have even a bit of it. So you have Suguru kneeling behind you, as you climb into Satoru’s lap, a small groan leaving his lips as your cunt grazes his hard cock. 

“Such a good boy, aren’t you, Toru?” your fingers run through his hair — and god, his undercut was so fucking hot, as your fingers found his cock, letting the tip tease your soaked folds, as you line yourself up, “tell me what you want,” 

“Fuck, princess, y’know what I want,” and a whine leaves his throat when you let his tip sink into you, only to pull out. 

“Come on, nothing else to say? You always love running that mouth, don’t you? You wanted this, wanted me to ruin you, didn’t you? Well here we are,” you hum, as you press a teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth, “beg me,” 

And his dick twitches, painfully hard, and the words spill from his lips, “Please, please, sweetheart, use me, use my cock as a toy, want you to fuck me so bad, make me yours—” and you’re sinking onto his cock, his length parting your folds, as moans fall from both of your lips. And he bottoms out, your hips meeting his as you do, and you can feel every vein, every ridge, every inch notched inside your walls. 

“Toru, fuck, s’good, s’big,” it feels too fucking good, and he’s so long — god, he was brushing against places you never even dreamed of reaching. And your pussy clenched at the thought of how deep he would go when he would start thrusting. 

“Sure you have space for me, Princess?” Suguru leans back over to press kisses all over your face, before finding your lips in a heated kiss, “might be too tight of a fit,” his nose brushing against your cheek. 

“I’ll make you fit,” you murmur against his lips, your hands against Satoru’s chest, as you shift to cup his chin, “get behind me, Sugu,” 

Suguru smirks, slipping behind you, pressing himself against your back, dragging his cock teasingly against you, “So needy — you’re worse than Satoru,” and Satoru makes a noise of protest, but your walls flutter, making his back arch, “want me inside you, sweetheart?” And his tip teases at your entrance, brushing against Satoru’s cock, causing all three of you to moan, “tell me how much you want us to fuck you, how much you want both of us inside you,” 

“Fucker, I swear to god,” you turn your head, your glare undercut by the desperation on your face, “just fuck me— 

And Suguru sinks into you, your head falling back against him, as both of their cocks stretch your cunt out. You were so fucking full. And the way your walls clenched around them was nearly enough to make them cum. Their groans come in unison. 

“Fuck, Princess, you don’t have to break our dicks off — we’ll fuck you again,” Suguru grunts, his rough palms sliding to your hips to squeeze them. 

“S’good, sweetheart, so fucking right for us,” and you can’t think straight with the two of them inside of you, and you’re moaning. 

“Please, move—“ and they oblige, beginning to fuck you. You moved against Satoru, riding him as best you can, while Suguru fucked you from behind, his balls slapping against your ass. 

Suguru drives into you at a steady pace, causing you to rock against Satoru, your hips pressed against his, as they both drive deeper and deeper into your wet cunt. 

“S’good, so pretty,” Suguru presses sweet kisses to your neck, while Satoru’s eyes flutter open to meet yours, “I’m close, Satoru—“ 

“Me too,” Satoru manages, and his hips begin to meet your thrusts, “you gonna cum for us princess?” And he finds your gaze, the fucked out expression enough to nearly make him cum right there. 

A whine leaves your lips, as they continue to fuck you, and you know you’re so close. And then they find that spot in you again, and you’re falling apart, lips parted in a moan, both their names on your lips. You clamp down on them, toes curling as you cum, and neither of them can last. Their hips stutter as they give sloppy thrusts, until they both cum, 

They groan your name as they spurt their thick cum inside, notching themselves as deep as they could, continuing to fuck their cum inside you with messy thrusts. 

A whimper escapes your lips between pants, as your arms and legs shake from your position, utterly fucked out. You three stay like that for a moment, both of their sweet nothings they murmur to you falling on deaf ears.

And then finally they are shifting you onto the bed, pressing soft kisses to your face and neck, as your eyes flutter shut. There’s shifting on the bed, as one of them leaves for a moment, and you make a noise, only to be reassured that he’ll be right back. 

Your eyes finally flutter open to find Satoru and Suguru cleaning you up with a wet washcloth, and your gaze finds both of their own. Your lips curl at the sight of them, their gentle gaze enough to make your heart ache. 

“Come back,” you whine, and they both chuckle, as they begin to finish drying you off, before tossing the washcloth into the wastebasket, and crawling back beside you. They help you pull a shirt on, before settling in. 

“So needy,” Satoru murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, even as he buries his face in your chest, his warm breath tickling you as you run your fingers softly through his white locks. And Suguru presses himself to your back, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, his arm around your waist, and yours resting on top of his. 

“What will we do with her?” Suguru mutters, and you can hear the smirk in his tone. 

“Shut up,” you mumble, your eyes beginning to feel heavy, as you give into the warmth that enveloped you from their bodies, as it lulled you to sleep. And your lips curled into a smile, a smile that had you wondering right before you slipped into sleep—

When was it that you fell for them? 

~~~~

You couldn’t do this. Not to them. 

That’s what you had decided come morning — waking up between entangled limbs and soft breaths against your skin — how could you? You felt Satoru shift closer to you, as you leaned into his touch, running your fingers through Suguru’s black locks. You were addicted to their touch only after one night, and now you had to spend the rest of your life without it. 

It was the only way. 

This whole thing was ridiculous to begin with — you never cared to be involved in the yakuza to begin with. You wanted a normal life — or at least as normal of a life you could have with who your grandfather was. You had never expected to end up wrapped up in all of this — and in both of them. 

But you didn’t know if you could choose between them — and you knew, you had to. It wasn’t fair to either of them — not when they had asked you to choose last night and they had indulged you in both of them. And now, you didn’t want to let either of them go. 

So you had to let both of them go. 

You shifted slowly to sit up, Your fingers traced Satoru’s cheek lightly, as you toyed with a strand of Suguru’s hair. They both still stayed fast asleep, quiet snores filling the silence of the early morning, deep in the embrace of sleep after the events of last night and the last few weeks. You didn’t want to be someone like your grandfather — you didn’t know what you wanted and that was enough of an answer wasn’t it?

The two shift in their sleep, and your body grows heavy, your back still aching from last night, as you lie back down beside them, running your fingers over both of their arms. 

Even if you had your answer, you didn’t have to face it for another few hours. And their bodies shifted, Satoru burying his face in the nape of your neck, while you rested against Suguru’s chest. This was enough — enough to last you a lifetime, wasn’t it? Your eyes fluttered shut, sinking slowly back to sleep. You had told your grandfather you’d break their hearts — 

—but you didn’t know you would be breaking yours as well. 

~~~

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Satoru narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms, as Suguru stepped aside to show the empty room you had left behind — a bare husk with nothing left behind, not even a note. 

It had been a day. 

When Satoru had woken up beside you, he could have sworn he was still dreaming, even as he grazed your skin gently with the back of his knuckles, he still couldn’t quite believe it. And when he spotted Suguru pressing kisses to your cheek, he knew it was real. 

“How long have you been awake?” Satoru raised an eyebrow, “it’s not fair to have your fun while we were asleep,” 

And Suguru rolled his eyes, as he rubbed the back of his knuckles gently against her cheek, “I just woke up, and all I did was kiss her, you idiot,” 

“Not fair, that means I have to kiss her too,” Satoru murmurs, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and cheek, and one even to your nose. Your nose wrinkles in your sleep, and Satoru’s lips quirk upwards, “she’s so exhausted from last night still,” 

“She is,” Suguru hums, as he tilts his head, “what are we going to do about last night?” 

Satoru pauses a moment to consider, “Well, what is there to discuss? She chose us both, didn’t she?” Satoru leaned close to you, to press a kiss to your head. 

“She did,” Suguru props himself up with his elbow on his side, “I thought you weren’t one to share,” 

And Satoru shrugged — he wasn’t one to share, he wanted what was his to be his alone, but with you — the more people to protect you, the better, “If it’s what makes her happy, I don’t mind,” and he adds, “and I don’t mind if it’s you that I’m sharing with,” 

Suguru raises an eyebrow, a chuckle on his lips, “Is that so? Well, good,” as he runs a finger through your hair, “because I feel the same.” 

But Satoru supposed you didn’t. 

“When did she—“ 

“My father told me she contacted her grandfather this morning, and let them know she was leaving — and her single request was to send us away on business so we wouldn’t be able to stop her,” and Satoru gives a bitter chuckle. 

“So that’s it?” Satoru crosses his arms, “why did she—“ and he cuts himself off, “have you tried to call—“ 

“I’m blocked, I assume you are too,” Suguru shook his head, a silence settling over the two of them that Satoru chose to break. 

“Do we go after her?” And Suguru pauses, his brow wrinkling a moment, before he sighs, shaking his head. 

“If she comes back, it has to be her choice,” Suguru slid his hands into his pockets, “otherwise, we’re back to square one,” and he adds, “and I don’t think I can go back after last night.” 

Suguru steps away, heading back down the hallway, and Satoru follows. 

No, Satoru thinks, sparing one glance at the empty room, before pulling the door shut, neither could he. 

~~~

“Why did you come back?” You set another box down, wiping the sweat from your brow, your grandfather simply watching as you brought your things back into your room. 

“What a warm welcome,” you scoff, as you head back out to pick up another — the other staff had offered to help, but you had waved them off, lifting another box, your back still aching — and now you were starting to regret it. But you knew if you didn’t do something to distract yourself — your phone taunting you on the top of your desk — you’d do something you’d regret. 

And you’d already filled your quota for the next six months at least. 

“Don’t get me wrong, kid,” the geezer sighed, as he watched you bring the last of the boxes in, “I’m glad you’re back and the matters are all settled — but,” he tilts his head, “you seem more miserable than before,” 

“I’m just tired,” you reply, but his furrowed brow says he’s unconvinced, as you grab a box cutter and begin to open up the boxes, beginning to sort through your things, “and still trying to wrap my head around the fact you lied to me,” 

And he sighs, “this isn’t about me right now — it’s about you—“ 

“How convenient,” you mutter under your breath. 

“You’re in love, aren’t you?” And you can’t help but freeze for a moment, until you force yourself to continue unpacking, pulling out some of your clothes from the box, “which one is it?” 

The question stabs between your ribs like a well thrust sword between the ribs, finding the center of the problem — along with your heart. 

“Gramps—” 

“So it’s both of them?” and you whirl on him, your eyes narrowing, and he chuckles, holding up his hand, “I didn’t spy — I just took a guess,” he sighed, as he pulled out your desk chair and took a seat in it, “and it looks like I was right,” 

You swallow, your eyes falling to the floor, “I didn’t cheat, if that’s what—” 

He laughs, “I know you aren’t like me, little one,” he leans back in the chair, hands folded in his lap, “you aren’t one to lie — because I know there’s more you hate than liars,” and his gaze grows a little sadder, “And I’m sorry I had to become one of them,” 

You grit your teeth, “I’m not mad at you — I’m just—” you choose your words carefully — because you’re angry, you were upset — upset that he felt as if he couldn’t trust you, “wondering why you didn’t tell me the truth,” 

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, “My past isn’t something I’m proud of, and I wanted to deal with it without involving you,” he sighed, “after everything with our family — I didn’t want to give you another reason to distance yourself from me,” 

“Lying to me isn’t a better option than that,” he rubs the back of his head, “you have to make it right for Akari and her mother — as well as if you have any other kids—I don’t need to know,” you add, when he opens his mouth, “it isn’t fair to them,” and it would be no fairer to not choose between Satoru and Suguru. 

“You’re right,” he raises a brow, “is that the problem? You can’t choose between the two of them, eh?” and your gaze refuses to meet his, “have you talked to them about it?” and your silence serves as an answer, “then I think you should take your own advice and talk to them about it,” 

“What will that do?” you murmur, “they still will want me to choose—” 

“Do you know that for a fact?” he crosses his arms, “I think you owe it to them and to yourself to talk to them, and to your grandfather who can’t stand to see you this miserable at home,” 

“Do you think it will change anything?” and he shrugs. 

“Maybe it will or maybe it won’t,” he tilts his head, as he pulls out his phone to call you a car, “but if it’s a chance for you to be happy, isn’t it worth taking?” 

~~~~

“I want to marry you both,” 

And again, your statement is met with confused stares, as you had all but pulled up to their compound and entered to find them seated together discussing business in a side room — and their stares were still anything but average — but to you now, they meant so much more. 

“Not marry you right now, but maybe eventually,” adrenaline was surely pumping through your system, right? That’s probably why your hands were shaking and your mouth was dry, but even so you knew you needed to say it before they spoke, “I’m sorry for leaving the way I did. I told myself after we first met I wouldn’t be a coward, but I was when I ran away, and I don’t have any excuse,” you swallowed, “but I know what I want — and I want both of you, as selfish as that feels,” guilt crawled up your throat at the statement of that sentence, as if begging you to swallow the words that spilled from your lips back up, “and I don’t know how either of you feel — but if we were to do this, I would want us to be honest and—” 

And the screech of their chairs takes you aback, and you felt your cheeks burn, was this it? 

But instead of brushing past you, they stand in front of you, one of them tilting your head upwards to meet their gazes. 

“Took you long enough, sweetheart,” Satoru’s lips curled, his hand cupping your cheek, “I know we said we wanted you to hurt us, but not like that,”

“Sent us away just to ghost us,” Suguru clicked his tongue, his fingers still under your chin, “I’ll have to plant a tracker on you again,” 

You shake your head, “Wait, what? Are you both okay—” 

“We did say we’d kill the other for your hand, but,” Suguru presses a kiss to your forehead, “But now we realize the more eyes watching you, the better, and,” he shrugs, “we don’t mind sharing if it’s just with the other,” 

“And I know you’ll prefer me sooner or later,” Satoru adds, earning a glare from Suguru, as you only chuckle, “Suguru is always so grumpy—ow!” Suguru smacks on the back of the head, as the black haired yakuza wraps his arms around you, pressing your back to his front. 

“And you are always too busy running your mouth,” Suguru replies, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “sure you can handle both of us in your life?” and you pull Satoru close too, letting his lips brush yours, before turning and pressing a kiss to Suguru. 

“Shouldn’t you be asking yourselves that?” you say, as the two of them wrap an arm around you, “I am supposed to ruin your lives after all.” 

✧ a/n: so this has been a longtime coming. i was supposed to be working on prof geto (5) + my nanami celebration fic but this took over my life and wouldn't let go until i finished. so i hope you guys enjoy!! and this is my reminder why i don't write multi partner scenes like this often because its....difficult. thank you to @gaylatteart for reading and putting up with me <333

✧ taglist: @midmourn, @whore-for-hawks, @ekaterinatepes, @satoryaa, @mandysfanfics, @sodoney, @sukunasfavoritehole, @kazbrkker, @satorugirlie, @itsbokutosjuicyass, @santos4, @levanadragoneel, @talkativetranscendant, @abiiebibie, @simply-a-s1mp, @jolynelovesrain, @deegausserr, @xxemmarldxx, @biancaness, @satoniko, @ackermanbby, @rintoriss, @kentocalls, @marionettte, @bear-likes-mushrooms, @forest-hashira, @catsgomurp, @k1t0u, @rat-loves, @forest-fruits-jam, @wishingforanother, @roseified, @spider-fan72, @caelestine-the-caelicatto, @gojolvrr34, @chosobun, @chuuyasboots, @nanamis-baker, @hanxyy,

[tgcg]

an open fly walking

i didnt like this one but i thought id finally air it out since its been sat in my folders for months now

TG: hey karkat

CG: YEAH?

===

TG: you ever noticed you like

TG: walk weird

CG: WOW, OKAY.

CG: HAVE *YOU* EVER NOTICED THAT I DON'T GIVE A SHIT?

TG: pff

===

TG: no listen because i got my ears scoping that shit im like a scouter for dude activity

TG: ok maybe me mentioning it to you is gonna fuck up your ecosystem or something but

TG: you have the heaviest feet of the century man

CG: I DO???

TG: just thrust them straight down into the ground like youre trying to homebrew a san andreas fault

TG: viciously tamping on tectonic plates hoping for top score on the richter scale

TG: waging war against solid particles and the basic flow of gravity

TG: i could ID those footfalls out of a million i mean it

CG: SERIOUSLY?

===

TG: i mean theres nothing wrong with it but

TG: yeah

CG: I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU'RE FUCKING WITH ME RIGHT NOW.

TG: im not fucking with you striders honor

TG: when have i ever lied to anybody about anything

CG: NOT UNPACKING THAT QUESTION WITH YOU TODAY.

CG: BUT SHIT, HOLD ON. LET ME SEE.

TG: yeah take the umbrella go over there and just walk to me

CG: ON IT.

===

===

TG: see you just kinda slam em straight down dude

CG: THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY RIOTOUS FUCKING JOKE OF A LIFE.

TG: dont your feet ache

===

CG: MOOT POINT. THIS MIGHT SOUND INSANE BUT I'VE ACTUALLY HAD MY STRUT PODS FOR A WHILE. ANY KIND OF PAIN THIS WOULD'VE BEEN CAUSING WOULD BE TOTALLY FILTERED OUT OF MY SPONGE BY NOW AS BACKGROUND NOISE.

TG: damn i didnt think that through

TG: my shades

CG: ALRIGHT, GET BACK UNDER THE SHITTING UMBRELLA AND THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO ME.

TG: look ive fucked myself over here too i dont have shit to clean these with

TG: ugh

===

TG: guess its karma

CG: HOLY FUCK. HOW DID I NEVER NOTICE THIS BEFORE?

TG: i dunno but im gonna assume having a dad thats a literal crab monster is probably a contributing factor

TG: im guessing thats not a great role model for this kinda thing

TG: just conjecture i mean

CG: YOUR ENVY IS OVERWHELMINGLY OBVIOUS DAVE. AS A DISCLAIMER, HE WOULD'VE ABSOLUTELY KICKED YOUR ASS.

TG: yeah probably

CG: THAT'S PRETTY MUCH ALL THERE IS TO SAY ON THE MATTER.

===

TG: but see bro had me stringent on feather feets

TG: i bet i could slip across a bike horn warehouse with nary a fucking toot

CG: HAHA. ASSUMING YOU DON'T MAKE A TOTAL ASS OF YOURSELF, AS PER USUAL.

CG: IF YOU WEREN'T CONSTANTLY RUNNING YOUR GASH ABOUT EVERYTHING AND BEING AN INIMITABLE CLOWN I SERIOUSLY THINK YOU COULD BE ON PAR WITH YOUR CUSTODIAN.

CG: THAT IS A MONUMENTAL "IF".

TG: well look at it this way

TG: im basically doing you all a favor by being a dumbass

TG: never gonna get caught off guard by the bozo patrol

CG: WOW. GOOD POINT.

===

TG: also screw this can i use your shirt

TG: this stupid hoodie is just smudging my lenses up

TG: i cant see dick

CG: UH

CG: SURE, I GUESS.

TG: cool

===

TG: so yeah i could be prowling around like a goddamn verbal assassin sniping convos left and right

TG: but no ive got the decency to go bunp in the night

CG: YEAH.

CG: IT'S DEFINITELY COMPOUNDED BY THE CONSTANT INANE RAMBLINGS.

CG: BUT

CG: IT'S ACTUALLY PRETTY RELAXING, Y'KNOW? IT HAS ITS OWN RHYTHM.

TG: see yeah i sound it off and

===

TG: wait really?

CG: YEAH

CG: I DON'T KNOW

CG: FUCK. HOW DO I EXPLAIN THIS WITHOUT WANTING TO CRAM MY FROND DOWN MY PROTEIN CHUTE.

===

CG: IT'S LIKE

CG: A SALVE FOR MY AGGRAVATION SPONGE.

CG: YOUR VOICE IS THE HUMAN EQUIVALENT OF ASPIRIN.

TG: uh damn karkat hold your hoofbeasts i was talking about the rhythm thing

CG: ALRIGHT, THAT'S IT. I'M TAKING US BOTH THE FUCK OUT RIGHT NOW. YOU HAVE REACHED THE BAD END OF THIS CONVERSATION.

TG: you think thatd be heroic or just

CG: IF I WAS STILL GHOSTING AROUND THE RUINS OF SGRUB'S ARCANE FRIGGIN GAME SYSTEMS, THE COMPLETE LACK OF SHIT AFOOT NOWADAYS WOULD BORE ME TO DEATH.

CG: LIKE. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME OUR THERMAL HULL LEVELLED UP, DAVE?

TG: hah

===

TG: but uh

TG: i mean we had aspirin on earth

CG: NO, NUMBNUBS.

CG: I'M SAYING YOU ARE MY ASPIRIN.

TG: oh

CG: YEAH, TAKE THAT TO THE BANK AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR 20-KARAT ASS.

===

TG: heh

TG: well get this

TG: i will literally talk at you forever for free

TG: you got lifetime priority seating for the davealogues

TG: never gotta go to the drugstore again you can just get doped up on my dulcet tones for the rest of time

TG: take that and some of this

TG: im packin punches

CG: OW, FUCK! NO! MY MIGRAINES!

CG: SWEEPS OF VEINCLOTTING AND NERVEFRAYING DOWN THE FUCKING GAPER. BECAUSE OF YOU.

CG: YOU ASSHOLE, THIS IS THE WORST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME.

CG: AND YOU'RE LAUGHING.

TG: chuckle up it only gets worse from here

===

CG: BE HONEST WITH ME. DID FONDLING MY SHIRT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET EVEN DO ANYTHING?

TG: barely but yknow sometimes you just gotta deal the cards youre given

TG: ill just be astigmatic for a while its cool

CG: PFF… OKAY MAN.

[heywriters]

Details That Convey Intimacy

Developing fictional relationships that feel authentic takes more than dialogue and grand gestures. Every detail below can be used to show platonic, familial, agape, or romantic love depending on context.

cooking a meal for someone, bringing them food, or spontaneously sharing a snack

sharing body heat/warming someone with outerwear like jackets and scarves

fanning them with something if overheated

getting a cold/hot drink for them

offering to carry something, whether it's heavy or just a jacket, to lighten someone's load or free up their hands

more below the click!

changing the subject of a group conversation that will be personally discomforting to someone in the group

making sure to include someone in a group conversation, especially if it's a topic they have special knowledge of

waiting for someone to catch up when the rest of the group has walked ahead

remembering preferences/allergies ahead of time when preparing/ordering food

planning trips, whether in a pair or as a group, that provide something positive for every individual to enjoy

procuring personal healthcare items like sunscreen, moisturizer, lip balm, pain relievers, or a snack and keeping them on hand for that friend who frequently needs them

making room for someone in a crowded vehicle or on public transit

making room for someone under an awning or in another limited space to help them avoid bad weather

warning or wordlessly covering for someone with a wardrobe/cosmetic malfunction

remembering a small luxury someone mentioned they enjoy, and getting it for them the next time it's convenient

running an errand for someone to make their day easier ('importance of errand : depth of relationship' ratio should be explored)

escorting someone to safety in a sudden unsettling event

escorting someone who is drunk, sick, infirm, injured, or emotionally compromised

asking if light, noise, or other sensory factors are bothering someone and taking steps to make them more comfortable

getting gag gifts for someone to show you reciprocate their sense of humor or quirky self-expression (not everyone does this, not everyone appreciates it, and some people predominantly express love through humor and gag gifts; works well with some characters more than others)

holding someone's hand or arm as reassurance, especially when they are afraid*

using their body to block someone from wind, rain, or heat

picking up a dropped item, or carrying a train or other dragging garment for someone else

returning a recognizable possession to someone who may have lost it

This is an inexhaustible list as humans have many ways of showing love for each other. If you are writing spec fic with non-human characters, you can play with variations on these by remembering three core values the "lover" has to consider:

physical comfort of others

emotional comfort of others

social reputation of others

I'd add "sensory comfort" though I think it's tied to physical and emotional comfort.

Please do not try and force any of these into the mold of the misogyny-based "Love Language" trend. Human emotions and expressions of love are diverse and endless.

*While hand holding can be construed as romantic, in reality it varies. Some cultures do not see this as romantic, and some individuals only mean it as a sign of support or compassion. Same goes for long embraces and kissing, both can be done platonically and of course naturally between close family members or friends.

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