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whisperofaflame · 3 days ago

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♡ Collision Course ♡

Chapter 16: I don't know who I am, when I am with you

WandaNat x [innocent, femme] reader

Collision Course – Masterlist Link to full fic (so far) on AO3

Chapter Summary: The three of you sit down together, to discuss your wellbeing and needs. After the intensity of talking about your feelings, Wanda and Natasha make sure to take extra care of you.

Word count: 8.9k (y'all deserve a long one after waiting for over a month 🙈)

Featuring: slow burn, emerging D/S dynamics, mommy kink, praise kink, copious pet names, non-sexual intimacy (but also with hints of sexual feelings at times), suggestion of sub-drop, elements of aftercare, hints of age-regression maybe? (You decide.)

Heads Up: This chapter contains passing reference (literally blink and you'll miss it) to self injury and disordered eating thoughts.

A/N: I am so, so sorry for the ridiculously long wait for this chapter. The last month has been insane. I've been super busy in my personal life, so it was a challenge finding time to think about the story, let alone write. Plus, I was struck by ADHD burnout (a long time coming, I suppose) and the worst bout of writer's block I've had in a long, long time. Anyway, writing has been hard, but it's finally here. Thank you to everyone who has waited for this, and to those of you who have left lovely comments and asks about Collision Course. Even if I don't reply straight away, please know that every one warms my heart and gives me a little boost, pushing me a bit closer to the next chapter. I really hope you enjoy this one ♡

As you wait, you feel the cold begin to creep through your skin. It draws you into hiding on the patio beneath the balcony, where you curl up on a wide cushioned seat, draping a blanket awkwardly over your body and tucking your bare feet underneath.

Worries swell and crash like waves in your head, and you’re consumed by thoughts of being thrown out, driven back to your arid apartment and left to languish alone.

There is no distraction, no reprieve from this. There is only waiting. Only enduring.

———

You hear the door opening a little wider to your side, and you simultaneously turn and shrink into yourself, body balling up beneath the blanket as if this will somehow hide you from her.

Wanda.

There’s fear, but also something else. A swooping feeling at seeing her, which doesn’t entirely surprise you. You missed her today. And it’s silly; it’s only been hours and you’ve only known her for a few days — but this was the longest you’ve been apart since the accident, aside from sleep. You’ve missed her kindness, her warmth, her touch — but you’re also scared that they’ll be withheld from you now, after everything that has happened today. Although, paradoxically, a small part of you feels like you’d deserve that. That you deserve some kind of punishment for what you’ve done, for how you’ve been.

But now she is there, sending you a soothing smile as she slips past the door. It doesn’t quite break through the icy shell that has crystallised around you, but it’s warm against your edges. Maybe it will melt you, over time.

“Hi sweetheart,” she greets you quietly, stepping towards you with care. Your whole body begins to shake, and you’re not sure if it’s a shiver from the cold or a tremble of fear. Wanda sits down on your left side, her face full of concern as she draws her legs up to sit cross-legged, facing into you. She studies you for a moment, resting her elbow on the back cushion and tilting her head to lean into her elevated right hand. Then, very slowly, she reaches out with her other hand. You watch it approach, trying desperately to slow your breathing and still your limbs. She places it on the rise of your knee, easily located despite the blanket that covers you, and she presses down, gentle but firm. Wanda doesn’t seem hesitant or unsure. It’s like she knows you now, knows her touch will ground you though you’re nervous.

She’s right. The small but assured link between her body seems to pull you to safety, like she’s thrown a life-ring out to you and is plucking you out from the waves. They still crash somewhere deep inside you, but your head is above the water now, and you can breathe.

“Nat said you’ve had a difficult day,” Wanda tells you softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help, myšička.”

The water level rises then, pooling in your eyes. A gentle stroke to your knee with her thumb coaxes out the tears, which begin to trickle silently down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and it comes out in a choked whisper. “I-I didn’t… I wasn’t…”

“Shh…” Wanda soothes, and she reaches out with her right hand to carefully wipe the tears from your cheeks, and tuck a loose lock of hair behind your ear.. “It’s okay, honey. I know. You’re not in trouble.”

“But I lied,” you stammer out. “I sort of knew I might do it… I planned it. And I almost left.”

“Almost,” Wanda repeats, emphasising the word as her fingers find your cheek again, cupping it and very slightly brushing her thumb over the tear tracks. “But you didn’t, did you sweetheart? Instead, you found Nat, just like I asked you to.”

The words seem to seep through your skin; they trickle through your veins, finding the guilt and settling in the same space. Not fighting to overrule. Just there, a silent alternative. Maybe the day wasn’t all bad. Maybe you aren’t all bad.

“Nat only let me use the bike because I pressured her so much,” you tell her, feeling obliged to explain fully, to shoulder the blame. “I just… I couldn’t bear it any more.”

“Myšička, no one is in trouble. Not Nat; not you. Nat explained to me, and I know you needed it.”

There’s a hollow, sick feeling in your stomach, and you can’t understand why. Wanda has told you twice now that you’re not in trouble, but you still feel like there are invisible strings pulling at all your limbs from within, the tension aching and shameful. Your head keeps revolving back to her words this morning, and the way they hooked some unknown chain inside you, like you were always meant to be attached like this. God, you just want to be good. And it’s silly, but you need her to know that. To know that you intended it, and that you still intend it to be true.

You turn your head away from her, forcing her hand to slide off your cheek and instead rest upon your shoulder. You can’t say this while looking at her.

“I wanted to be good for you,” you whisper, and you count the red bricks on the wall beneath the staircase, mentally tracing the lines like beads of a rosary. The action taps into that ancient habit; it scratches the scab and unearths the urge to repent.

“And you were,” Wanda assures you, finding your chin and gently redirecting your gaze back to her. It hurts a little, to look at her. You want her reassurance so badly, but it feels sinful, somehow, to accept it. It feels like you are bypassing the confession, skipping past the penance. “I asked you to find Natasha if you needed anything, and you did. You went to her, and you told her what you needed. That was all I asked you to do, hm?”

It’s hard to respond to that, because technically she is right — that is all she asked you to do this morning. But it misses everything else: every implicit expectation that compels you in their house, in their presence. And how can you express those in words? Those urges, those obligations that don’t even seem to originate from a clear source… Maybe it’s just you. Maybe you’ve created this all in your head, a bizarre alternate reality in which your decorum would matter so much to them. Fuck, it’s so confusing. So you just blink dumbly at her, unable to answer at all. And Wanda simply smiles at your stupor, renewing the gentle stroking of your knee and making you feel a little fuzzy in the soft glow of her full attention.

“I’m proud of you for opening up to Nat, myšička,” Wanda murmurs, her hand brushing some stray hair behind your ear again, then moving behind your head to gently stroke the baby hairs at the bottom of your neck. A shiver runs through your body, triggered by the electric touch of her fingers and the cool sensation of her rings as they brush against your skin; the fluttering feeling finishes in your half-frozen feet, leaving little prickles in its wake.

Proud. It feels undeserved, but you bat away the doubt and cling to it like another blanket, desperate for the security it can offer you when the rest of you feels so evil, so unworthy. Wanda’s arm feels warm where it rest against your shoulder and her fingers brush against your neck. Would it be so bad to lean in?

You give in, and the slow descent feels so sweet. Like with every small yielding movement you are rejecting the bad feelings, and replacing them with Wanda’s gentle alternatives. It feels like the longer you stay here, the more you lose yourself. Every part of you is being rewritten. And you can’t always find it inside you to care. Her fingers respond to your movement, moving down to hold your right waist as you lean down to rest your head on her shoulder. Your body tips, bent knees rocking over to rest every so slightly against Wanda’s crossed legs. A part of you wishes you could curl up there, with both of your limbs tangling together. Wanda’s left hand has moved to cup the back of your right knee, and you imagine her using the hold to lift you into into her lap.

You close your eyes, breathing out and letting go of the last little bits of reserve. One more admission. Not from guilt, but from hope.

“I missed you,” you whisper, the statement barely audible as it slips from your lips and catches on the gentle breeze. But she hears it; you know she does, because she hums a little, the sound happy and soft, and she pairs it with a gentle squeeze of your waist.

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” she whispers back. “I thought about you a lot while I was at work, wondering how you were doing.”

“Really?” you ask, the question slipping out desperately, your need for reassurance no longer contained by shame or reason.

“Really, myšička. I even texted Nat at lunchtime to check how you were doing. And when she said you were having a hard time, I wanted to come right back. But I had two more lectures to give, so I had to stay.”

You sigh a little in her hold.

“That’s okay,” you murmur, “I understand.” You’re not sure why you feel the need to say it. To reassure her? That seems strange. She shouldn’t need to come back to you. She shouldn’t need to explain herself.

“You’ll have me all day tomorrow,” Wanda tells you quietly, giving you an extra little squeeze, tightening the embrace just slightly, so she doesn’t hurt your shoulder. “And then we can figure out the rest of the week, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper.

You stay like that for a few minutes, your breathing slow as you gaze out to the garden and feel her thumb rubbing gently at the skin between the waistband of your shorts and the hem of your vest top, which rides up slightly because of your sideways lean.

“In a moment, we’ll head in and sit on the sofa, okay?” Wanda tells you, and you relax a little more when you hear her gentle direction said in such a soft tone. You love it when she tells you what to expect, what to do. It makes you feel safe. “Natty will join us, and we’ll have a little chat together. Just about how you’ve been feeling, and what you need from us. Nothing bad, little one, I promise.”

The prospect of talking — or that nickname, you’re not sure — pulls out a small sound from your throat. A tiny whine, luckily muffled by the way your face is pressed against Wanda’s shirt. You can tell that she hears it though, because her left hand strokes the back of your leg gently, reassuring you with her touch.

“After we talk, I think a bath would be good for you, darling. You can get into comfy clothes for dinner, and then we can just relax after eating. Maybe we could watch some more She-Ra, hm?”

You make a small sound of consideration, of approval, and Wanda gives you a little kiss on the forehead in response.

“Let’s get you inside, myšička. Your feet are frozen.”

You make no move at first, your fuzzy brain still catching up, still figuring out the fact that you have to move yourself, that Wanda can’t carry you. Then she gives you a soft pat on the back of your thigh. A reminder, a signal.

You sit up, wiping your eyes with your freed left hand, then using it to unravel the blanket from your body and place it on the side. Wanda keeps her hand around your waist for a moment, then she lets go and moves to stand. She doesn’t say any more, she just holds out her hand, and you take it without hesitation, letting her lead you back inside.

When Wanda reaches the sofa she lets go of your hand and gestures for you to sidle between the sofa and the coffee table to take a seat in the middle. Once you’re seated, she sits down next to you, on your right, and places her hand on your leg, just above your knee.

“I’m just going to message Nat,” she tells you, pulling her phone out her pocket with her right hand, “to let her know we’re down here.”

In reply, you give a small nod. You like that she explains, that she keeps you informed even when you don’t ask.

It doesn’t take long for Natasha to arrive. She moves around the left side of the sofa and then side-steps round to sit on the coffee table right in front of you, holding up some fluffy socks.

“Wanda said you might need these. What do you think?”

You look to Wanda, who smiles reassuringly at you. Then you look back at Natasha, her smile gentle, hopeful. Slowly, you nod.

“Yes please.”

Natasha’s smile deepens, and she places one sock on the table next to her, so she can use both hands to open the other up, bundling the fabric so it can be pulled on it one motion. Shyly, you raise one leg, and let her slide the fluffy fabric over one frozen foot. Then you both repeat the process for the other side. The gesture makes you feel a little warmer inside, more from her kindness than the extra clothing.

“Thank you.” It comes out small but Natasha looks pleased as she stands up, turns, and sits down on your left side, shuffling herself back until she’s situated in the corner of the L-shape and she can see you and Wanda without twisting. Then she lifts her legs up onto the sofa, tucking her feet in close and hugging her raised knees.

“I know you’re a bit worried about this, lapushka, but we just want to have a chat with you, now that you’re feeling a bit more like yourself,” Natasha says, but despite her reassuring words and Wanda’s gentle stroking of your thigh, you shrink back into the cushion behind you.

Do you? Feel more like yourself? You’re not so sure.

“Wanda and I like having you here, Y/N,” Natasha continues. “And we want you to stay with us for a while. At least until your arm is better, and you can manage things more independently. How do you feel about that?”

“I’d like that,” you say quietly. “As long as it’s truly okay with you.”

“It is,” Wanda reiterates, moving her left hand to the back of your neck, fingertips playing with your baby hairs again. “We mean it, myšička.”

“Can I give you anything in return?” you ask. “I mean, I feel bad that you’re feeding me, and I’m using your spare room… I could give you some money for food, maybe?”

“No,” Natasha replies, her tone blunt and unequivocal. “This isn’t transactional, Y/N. We don’t need anything in return — not now, not ever, okay?”

You gnaw at your lip. You’ve paid for yourself for years; even when times have been tough and your parents have offered to send you money, you have refused, and found a way. It’s partly a point of pride, but mainly it’s an obligation you have placed upon yourself. Your childhood problems and ailments have cost the world, cost your family enough. In a way, your financial independence is a form of penance. It feels strange, foreign — wrong — to accept help for free.

“In case you haven’t noticed, darling — we have more than enough space and food to share,” Wanda tells you lightly, leaning forward a little so you can see her playful grin. “We don’t want you to worry about that, okay?”

“Y/N, all we need from you is honesty, alright?” Natasha says, and you turn to look at her again, feeling Wanda place her other hand above your knee, as she continues to stroke your hair in a slow rhythm. “Just let us know how you’re feeling, and tell us if you ever feel uncomfortable. Can you do that?”

Tears prickle in your eyes. Honesty. It sounds so simple when she puts it like that, but they don’t know what’s going on with you, not really. They don’t know how you’re fighting the feelings and fearing the fall.

You’ve spent so much time, so much energy over the years trying to paste up your cracks and build yourself into something stable, something independent and unbreakable. The scaffolding they have erected to support you is chipping through the cladding, and you fear it will expose the structural damage within, the ugly joins and uneven stitching where you’ve made hasty, inexpert attempts to pull yourself back together. You’re afraid to let them see. And you’re scared that you’ll learn to rely on their help, and then lose them.

“Sweetheart, what’s upsetting you?” Wanda asks, her voice no longer playful. She sounds concerned, sympathetic. Her hand squeezes the flesh above your knee, and the action encourages the tears to flow.

“I don’t wanna be a burden,” you choke out, squeezing your eyes tight shut in an attempt to both stem the tears and avoid their gaze. “And I… I like being here, I like you both so much, but also I… I…” Your words trail off as your thoughts spiral and fail to align in your head. What do you want to say? What do you need to say? It feels like you’re spinning, flung about in space, and you need to still yourself, you need to ground yourself. The fingers of your left hand, which already lays on your lap, tense into claws. When you can’t run, this is what you are reduced to. Small doses of acute pain, to locate your limbs, to reassert your position in space. Even this tiny pinch helps. It helps you centre yourself on the immediate moment, helps you prioritise calming your breathing first, reminds you to wait for the raging winds to pass, before attempting to speak.

They wait for you, their presence heavy at either side, but also equal. Stabilising.

You find yourself speaking, the words arranging themselves on your tongue.

“I feel like… like I don’t really know who I am, when I am with you.”

The statement surprises you, but you know it’s true. You hardly recognise yourself, at times. So many parts of your personality are gone, with some pieces were left behind in your homeland, and others ripped away in the accident. The only parts of you left are needy, clinging. Not new, just unfamiliar, forgotten. And though it feels nice to lean into it, at times — especially with them — this isn’t all of you. It can’t be.

You release your grip from your thigh, and wipe your eyes. Then you turn to Wanda. She looks worried: her head is tilted, and her hands are still, frozen against the back of your head and you right leg. When you look into her eyes, you notice that they look a little more shiny than usual. Have you made her upset?

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly, voice panicked and trembling. “I don’t mean to… I’m sorry.”

“You’re not a burden,” Natasha’s voice assures you. “And it’s okay to share how you’re feeling with us. It’s important.”

Reluctantly — because you really want to see her, and make sure she’s okay — you turn away from Wanda, and look to Natasha. She looks serious, and her arms move to cross over her chest, then loosen, and fall to her lap again.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” She asks, then she pauses, her jaw tightening ever so slightly. One of her eyebrows lifts quizzically as she adds another question. "Or anything you want us to stop doing?”

You look down to your lap again. You don’t want them to stop being that special kind of soft with you, even if it would probably resolve all the confusing feelings it brings. You just maybe need an outlet. A way to balance it out with other pieces of yourself. A way to remind you — and perhaps remind them — that you’re still yourself; still smart and strong and capable.

“You don’t need to stop anything,” you whisper, feeling your cheeks blush at your answer, and all it entails. The admission that you like them at their most gentle, that you like the hugs and the nicknames and even the slight hint of condescension which imbues their affection with an additional dizzying aura. At your words, Wanda resumes her gentle stroking of your hair, and she deepens the pressure above your knee. Like she was waiting for your confirmation. Like she wanted it.

“Okay,” Natasha acknowledges quietly. “We won’t stop anything. But we want to help, lapushka. Can you think of anything we can do? Or anything you want to do?”

You try to think, fidgeting with the hem of your shorts as you attempt to reorder your thoughts. But nothing comes. You frown at your lap, frustration building. You want to answer her, you want to supply an idea, and please her. But you can’t.

Natasha’s hand finds yours, interlocking your fingers together. You look up at her, and she smiles gently.

“It’s okay,” she reassures you. “I can help with ideas. What about if we think about exercise first? Is that something you need?”

“Yes,” you whisper, grateful for the prompt.

“Tell us,” Natasha encourages, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You nod, and take a deep breath.

“I need to get outside,” you say quietly, your words slow at first, but gradually gaining rhythm and confidence as you continue. “At least once a day, for a bit. I need the fresh air, and the movement.”

“Okay,” Natasha agrees, smiling and nodding in a way which bolsters you even more. “What else?”

“Sometimes I might need a bit more,” you admit, biting your lip briefly, but continuing when Natasha continues to nod. “I know I should be resting, but sometimes I just get so overwhelmed, and when I do, exercise is kind of the only thing that helps.” You turn to look at Wanda. She doesn’t seem upset, like you feared she would. In fact, she gives you a little smile. She seems proud. It makes your cheeks feel warm again.

“Would using the gym help?” she asks you, and you nod shyly, grateful for her understanding.

“Yes please. If that’s okay. I won’t use it without your permission, I promise.”

Wanda nods at that.

“As long as Natasha or I can supervise, then it’s okay with me, myšička. But if you feel like you’re getting to that point, can you talk to one of us, please? I don’t want you struggling on your own, and reaching that point of overwhelm. We need to have other strategies, too.”

You nod, both embarrassed and touched by her request.

“I… talking is hard, sometimes,” you admit quietly. “But I’ll try. I promise.”

“That’s all we ask for,” Natasha tells you, squeezing your hand again. “Even if you can’t find the words, just find one of us, and we can be with you. We can go for a walk, or do something together to distract, if that helps.”

Your eyes fill with tears again, but happy, relieved ones this time. You’ve never felt so seen, so understood. So held.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Natasha smiles at you, her gaze so soft, so far from the stern demeanour you first associated her with.

“You said being busy helps,” she reminds you. “Do you want to go into college? Do you feel ready?”

You squirm slightly in your seat, a little overwhelmed by the direct question, and the reminder of your meltdown earlier today.

“I think so,” you breathe, biting your lip and looking down at your lap, trying to focus on what you want, rather than what you think they want to hear. “I think it would help, to have something to do. But I maybe need to start with just a little bit, and see how it goes.”

“That sounds sensible,” Wanda agrees, and her accepting tone reassures you enough to look up at her. “Darling, I don’t want to hold you hostage here, or force you to rest. I just don’t want you to overdo it, and hurt yourself.”

“I know,” you whisper, feeling small. Wanda watches you, breathing in deeply through her nose, then releasing it in a slow, silent exhale.

“How about you email your supervisor and see about rearranging that meeting?” she suggests, giving you a smile.

“Are you sure?” you check, and she nods. Her permission means the world to you, and you want her to know that. You wish you could hug her, touch her — but you have no free hand, and you can’t even lean against her in this position, as it would hurt your shoulder. So all you have to offer are your words, your smile, and your grateful tears. “Thank you, Wanda.”

She beams at you, and moves her hand from your neck to wipe your tears away with her thumb.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. When you have a time, let me know, and I can make sure to get you there.”

You nod, and your smile has to suffice as thanks this time, because you feel far too choked up with gratitude and relief to speak.

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?” Natasha asks then, and you shake your head. “Okay. We can leave it there for now, then. Thank you for talking to us, lapushka. We appreciate it.”

You feel your body relax a little, making you realise how much tension you were still holding. This conversation has been built up in your head over the last few hours, as some terrifying, earth-shattering thing — but it’s over now, and you feel better, not worse for it.

“Do you want to take a bath now?” Wanda asks you, and you nod. Words have escaped you. You feel so tired, so spent from all the emotions.

“Okay,” she whispers, cupping your cheek and squeezing above your knee before standing up and holding her hand out to you. You’ll accept it in a moment, but for now you turn to Natasha. Checking her face, checking for something. She smiles, and gives your hand a squeeze.

“It’s okay, lapushka,” she reassures you softly. “You go with Wanda, and I’ll finish getting dinner ready. When you’re ready, we can eat at the table, and then come down here to watch some TV before bed. Does that sound okay?”

You nod silently, your lips quirking up into a small smile of relief. You didn’t know what you needed, when you looked to her. But whatever it was, she gave it to you.

Natasha lifts your hand to her lips, and gives it a little kiss.

“Go on, kroshka moya. I’ll see you soon.”

She moves your hand to Wanda’s, facilitating an easy transfer. Wanda helps you stand, guiding you out the narrow channel between the sofa and the table, then out the living room and up the stairs.

Together, you all the way to your room, where she says something to you. But her words sound muffled, like you’re underwater. You blink at her, lost in a daze. Wanda just smiles adoringly at you, then guides you to sit on the end of your bed. And you watch her find clothes for you, taking them out the drawers. She builds a little bundle, then returns to you and guides you back out, back down the stairs, through her bedroom and into the bathroom.

It takes a while for your brain to catch up to the movement, to the changes. You watch the water flowing out the taps, mesmerised and missing Wanda’s words. She captures your attention with a hand cupped under your chin, gently turning your head to look at her.

“Myšička?”

You watch her lips move, unable to find meaning in the muffled sound. But you feel her. Taking your hand and squeezing it. Brushing her thumb over your cheek. Her touch, pulling you back to her.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” she asks you, her expression wavering between worry and something else, something almost… pleased.

“Wanda…?” you whisper, wanting her closer, but unsure how to say it. Your lips wobble with the effort, but you can’t produce the words.

“I’m here,” she tells you, looking deep into your eyes, like she’s searching to find out what it is that you want to say.

Everything feels so heavy, and you just want her to take the weight from you, to hold you in her arms and make everything feel better. Your head droops and leans into her, falling to rest on her shoulder, face turning into her neck. Wanda’s arms waste no time in moving to embrace you. Even without words, she knows what you need.

“It’s okay, little one,” she soothes you, as you whimper in her skin. “You’re safe here. Safe with Mo… with me.”

Her words blur in your head, the sounds melting together, coalescing into something new. You’re too dazed to register it properly, but it settles there, the idea embedding itself in your brain. Stored in your subconscious. Saved for later.

Wanda rocks you slightly in her arms, as she whispers sweet nothings into your ear. You melt into her, your left hand finding her shirt and taking tight hold near the hem. Clinging to this piece of her, scared she’ll let go and set you adrift.

“I’m so tired,” you tell her, and it comes out in a sad little whine.

“I know, honey. Just let me take care of you now, okay? Let me do the thinking.”

“Okay,” you whisper, and the word feels like an exhale, like letting go.

It feels good to let her. It feels good to give in.

Wanda hugs you for a few moments longer, then unravels you from her arms, placing one hand under your chin, and the other on your vice-like grip of her shirt, stroking it and coaxing you to release her.

“Let’s get these clothes off,” she murmurs, smiling reassuringly at you, then moving both hands behind your neck, to release the sling. It’s no more sore than usual, but you feel so sensitive right now, and you wince and whimper as she removes it from your arm. “I know it hurts, baby; I’m sorry,” Wanda coos sympathetically, and it makes you feel a bit better, hearing her words. Just a little.

Wanda carefully takes your tank top off, sliding your good arm out, taking it up over your head and then sliding it bit by bit down your bad arm, which she holds carefully at the same right-angle. She has become your sling, your protector.

She sighs sadly, and you look up at her in worry, afraid that you’ve done something wrong.

“Oh sweetheart — I shouldn’t have let you choose this bra this morning. Your poor shoulder must be so sore from the tension…”

Your lip wobbles, and you open your mouth to apologise again, because you feel so awful, and it’s all your fault, not hers…

But Wanda’s free hand takes your chin quickly, and she presses her forefinger against your lips in a shushing gesture.

“You don’t need to apologise,” she tells you, her voice back to calm, rather than regretful. “I know for next time — I won’t let you wear it for the whole day. Just if you need to exercise, okay?” Her finger brushes down over your lips, and your breath catches a little as you stare up at her avid gaze, your eyes flickering down to her own lips, which press against each other in a very small rolling motion, then curl into a smile. You look away, afraid that she’s noticed your wandering gaze and the heat in your cheeks. “Hold your arm steady for me, please,” she directs you gently, and you obey, staring down and trying to avoid glancing at her chest as she comes a little closer to reach the bra clasp on your back. When she unlatches it, the relief is immediate. Your skin prickles in the place it has left, and you realise, too late, that you’ve been overstimulated all day, the tension of your sports bra a constant drain on your energy and resilience since Wanda helped you put it on this morning. All these things about yourself, that you never notice. The reminder of your uselessness pokes at you, the jabs of self-loathing so prominent in your mind that you barely register your half-naked state.

Wanda takes hold of your bad arm again, then reaches to turn the taps off. You glance over and see there is a thick layer of bubbles on the surface, enough to cover you completely once you’re in.

“Let’s give your shoulder a proper rest, tonight,” Wanda says, cupping your cheek with her right hand and tilting her head slightly as she speaks to you. “We'll leave the swimming costume, and the shower. Just a bath, and then I can get you straight into some pyjamas, hm?”

You blink at her, the words sinking in slowly, and meeting no resistance inside your mind. So you nod, and are rewarded with her smile.

“Good girl,” Wanda praises, making you smile back happily. “Can you take your shorts off for me, sweetheart? Then I can get you in.”

You blush when your brain catches up, but still you don’t feel scared or uncomfortable at the prospect. It makes sense, to save time and pain and pressure on your shoulder. Wanda’s already seen so much of you, and she’s never stared or acted weird around your body. So what does a little more skin matter, really? You trust her.

You move your left hand to the top of your shorts and tug them down, pushing the elasticated waistband down your thighs until it meets no more resistance and the shorts fall down to your ankles. You step out carefully, then push the fabric with your foot to meet the crumpled bundle of your vest top and bra on the floor, followed by the socks which you pry off with your toes. Your shorts have built-in briefs, so you’re entirely bare now, no fabric nor willpower left to hide any part of yourself from her.

“My beautiful, brave girl,” Wanda whispers, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your forehead. She keeps her gaze on your face, never straying to your naked body. It calms you. It makes it feel natural to be like this, with her. “Let’s get you in now.”

You let her take hold of your left hand and guide you to step into the bath. The water is pleasantly warm, not too hot that you’re hesitant to sink in. You crouch down and then sit, feeling the water lap against you and the bubbles press and burst at your edges. It’s a relief to be engulfed like this. Although the exposure was brief and Wanda entirely discreet, you still have enough grip of your faculties to know you ought to be embarrassed, even if you don’t exactly feel it branded on your skin right now.

Wanda moves to the shelf and finds a hairbrush, then returns to your side, crouching down so she’s not looming over you.

“I’m going to brush your hair out first, myšička,” she explains, her voice soft and soothing. You nod pliantly, unconcerned. She could probably say anything right now, and you’d agree.

Wanda brushes your ponytail first, holding the bunch near the top to prevent pulling. She works out the tangles, then takes the hair bobble out and continues to tease out the remaining tangles, starting with small strokes at the bottom, then working up until she’s brushed it all the way through. You feel your eyes drooping, the repetitive strokes against your scalp lulling your deeper into the haze.

“I’m turning the shower on now, sweetheart,” Wanda tells you, and you just hum in recognition. You hear it turn on, feel the water splash behind you as she tests the temperature. “Okay. Lean back for me, honey.”

Wanda rinses your hair, then massages in the shampoo, making your eyes flutter shut in contentment.

“Keep your eyes shut for me, sweetheart, while I wash out the shampoo,” Wanda advises, before turning the shower on again and rinsing out the suds. You keep your eyes tight shut until you hear her turn the shower off, and feel her hand squeeze your left shoulder gently. “All done.”

You open your eyes and turn to see her. She smiles at you with such sweetness in her eyes. So kind, you could almost call it loving.

“Let me get your loofah, and I’ll help you with your arms and back,” she says quietly, standing up and walking away. You frown, your brain seeing her leave before you’re able to process her words, the panic overriding your comprehension. Don’t go, you think desperately. Don’t leave me. Wanda walks to the shower cubicle and slides open the door, reaching in. Her arms returns holding the pale-green loofah she bought you. Her other hand slide the door shut again, and then she turns back to walk towards you. Your body relaxes in relief, and she tilts her head as she approaches, her lips curling up as she considers you.

“Did you think I was leaving?” she asks you, her nose scrunching up with amusement as she crouches down at the side of the tub and gives your nose a gentle boop with her finger.

“Nuh-uh…” you protest, looking away and blushing at your stupidity. Wanda chuckles quietly, and you poke at the bubbles on the water with your left hand, embarrassment washing over you and spilling out in petulance. Wanda stops laughing then, and brushes her thumb against your cheek.

“I’m not leaving you, miláčik,” Wanda assures you, the mirth gone from her voice, leaving only her heartfelt words. “I promise.”

You breath out, the action halfway between a huff and a sigh of relief. Your hand settles on the surface of the water, your movements slowing and shifting from destructive to explorative on the foam.

“Will you let me wash your back and arms?” Wanda asks, the first real question in a while. She waits patiently for your response, clearly wanting an honest answer this time.

“Okay,” you whisper, after considering. You glance up at her, see her soft smile, then turn back to the bubbles. You’re caught between the realistic need for consent, and the desire for her to just take control — because it’s easier, then. You prefer it when you don’t have to think, don’t have to perform the charade of handing over your control every time. In truth, you’d let her control just about any part of your life without question. If she gave you a direction, you would follow it. Happily. When she asks your permission, it just draws attention to your yielding nature, and makes you doubt if she wants it.

Wanda moves to the end of the bath again, soaks the loofah in the water behind you, then starts to wash the back of your shoulders. It feels a little scratchy against your skin, but she’s gentle, and the warm water is doing a little to soften the rough texture. Still, the coarse sensation seems to awaken you, and unearths a niggling doubt inside you.

“W-Wanda?” you ask quietly, nibbling at your lower lip as you wait for her response. She stops what she is doing at once, moving back round to the side of the bathtub and crouching down so she can see your face.

“Yes, darling?”

“Is — is it weird for you?” you ask, voice wobbling. “Having to help me like this?” You try to look at her, but have to alternate between her eyes and the water, because her gaze is too intense, too attentive for you to meet.

“Not at all,” she tells you, and when you look back at her you see the worry has melted from her eyebrows, and her lips have curled into a smile. She reaches out with her free hand, cupping your cheek and stroking her thumb over your cheekbone. “Honestly, little one… I really like it. I like looking after you. I like when you let me.”

“Really?”

“Really really.”

You consider her words, watching her for a while, like you might see a crack in the act. But she holds your gaze, maintains her smile. She means it. You can see that she’s telling the truth. But that doesn’t mean that you understand.

“But… why?” you ask, struggling to accept it, struggling to believe that she’d want to do all this for you.

“Because I care about you,” she says simply, never stopping the soothing motions of her thumb against your cheek, “and I like to look after the people I care about, myšička, and make them feel safe, and happy.” She studies you as you take this in. “Do you like it when I look after you?”

You blush, because the answer is obvious, and yet she wants you to say it.

“Yes,” you whisper shyly, holding her gaze even though you want to hide. Wanda smiles.

“Then that’s all that matters,” she says quietly. “Okay?”

You nod in her hold, and she leans forward and presses a kiss against your forehead.

“Good girl.”

And with that, she moves to the end of the tub again, and continues to wash your back. You slide your feet towards your body, raising your knees and pressing them together. Beneath the water, you ache.

Wanda washes your arms and carefully wipes your underarms, then hands the loofah to you and directs you to wash yourself while she readies the towel. You do, blushing and staring resolutely down at the water, feeling thankful for the staying power of the bubbles tonight. Once you’ve cleaned yourself all over — as much as you can, with one arm available for use and one pinned painfully beneath your chest — you squeeze out the loofah, and place it on the rim of the tub.

“Finished?” Wanda asks, and you nod shyly. She smiles, and raises the towel with both hands, ready to cover you. “Can you stand by yourself?”

You nod again, glad she’s allowing you to do so, and preparing to preserve your dignity as swiftly as possible when you rise. With your left hand pressing against the rim, you push yourself up to stand, and let Wanda wrap the towel around your body, placing it over your right shoulder and under your left armpit, to keep your bad arm safely compressed and your good arm free.

“Not too tight?” she checks, and you shake your head. “Alright, let’s get you out safely.” She keeps hold of the towel with one hand, and takes your free hand in her other, helping you step out onto the bathmat. The change in temperature makes you shiver, and Wanda, noticing, doesn’t waste any time in trying to get you dry. She’s careful of your arm and she makes sure not to linger too long or too close in certain areas, but overall she’s clinical and efficient. When she’s done, she rearranges the towel in the same way, so she can clasp it together at your front with one hand. She leans down to pick up the socks from the floor, then gives you a gentle tug with the towel, moving you two steps towards the shelf to add the bundle of clean clothes she picked out to the pair of socks in her hand. The she leads you towards the door, out into her bedroom, where she gently guides you to sit on the edge of her bed, and moves your left hand to replace her grip of the towel. You stare at her expectantly, brain completely blank and waiting for instructions. Your hair drips onto the towel, and your shoulder feels sore from the strain of holding it up without the sling, but you can’t find it within you to care or complain. All you can think of is Wanda, because she crouches in front of you, sliding your dangling feet through the holes of your underwear, and gently sliding the fabric up over your knees. Then she does the same with a pair of pyjama shorts, and finally she replaces the fluffy socks from before.

“Pull these up, baby,” she tells you, giving you a little pat on your knee. Every time she uses that nickname, it makes you feel so flustered and needy. But it’s a nice feeling, somehow. You wouldn’t trade it for the world.

You stand up slowly, and fumble awkwardly to shuffle the underwear and shorts up beneath the towel. When you finish, she smiles praisingly and takes over holding the towel again. She readies the sling behind you on the bed, then holds up one of your oversized t-shirts and gives you a moment to process, before unwrapping the towel from around you and placing it down on the floor. She’s quick to cover you, sliding your bad arm through the sleeve then letting you wriggle your other in before slipping it over your head. The feeling of the soft, loose t-shirt calms you. You’re covered, but not compressed. After a day of emotional upheaval and physical tension, this is what you need.

Wanda carefully pulls your hair out where it’s been tucked beneath the t-shirt, then she starts putting your sling back on. It’s a relief when it’s over, and you can relax your arm muscles again.

“Now, my darling — I’m going to get changed out of my work clothes and into something comfy too. Would you like to go downstairs and see if dinner is ready?”

You stare at her. She’s worded it as a question, and it confuses you. If she’d given it as an instruction, you would have obeyed, albeit reluctantly. But she’s asked you, and your honest answer would be no.

Is that even okay? For your answer to be no?

“C-can I stay?” you ask meekly. Then, realising that this sounds weird and intrusive, you amend your request with haste. “Or — can I wait outside for you? Please?”

Wanda smiles, that nose-scrunching smile that tells you she’s happy, amused. She takes your hand and gives it a little squeeze.

“Of course you can stay, my love. Take a seat and I’ll be quick.” With her hold of your hand, she pushes you back a little until your thighs touch the edge of the bed. You sit, staring at her and mourning the loss of her touch as she lets go of your hand, picks the towel up from the floor and moves to her walk-in closet. When you look down at your lap, you feel that same ache inside. Along with a dampness between your legs, that you can’t entirely blame on the bathwater.

Wanda emerges a minute later in a plain blue t-shirt and light grey joggers, holding a small, thin towel in her hand.

“For your hair,” she tells you quietly, as she sits down on the bed beside you. “So you don’t get cold, during dinner.” She wraps your hair in it, then gently dries it off. At one point, you feel her chest press against your shoulder as she leans to reach the other side of your head. You bite the inside of your cheek, willing your body not to betray you, but feeling the warmth and the ache blooming anyway.

“Good enough, I think,” Wanda decides, standing up again and walking to the bathroom you watch her walk in and hang the bathmat over the side of the tub, before picking up your running clothes. She brings them and the towel back to her closet, where you assume she must have a laundry basket. “Okay,” she says then, offering her hand as she approaches, “let’s go down and see Natty. Dinner must be ready by now.”

———

When you reach the kitchen, the table is already set, and Natasha is already standing up from her stool at the counter, smiling in greeting.

“Ready when you are,” she says warmly.

Wanda guides you to sit in your usual seat, but then she sits down on the chair at the end, not her usual place opposite you. Natasha doesn’t seem to bat an eye at this, she just rearranges the place settings, moving the plate, glass and cutlery from where she normally sits, to the space in front of Wanda. Then she sits down in Wanda’s usual seat, and smiles reassuringly at you. She doesn’t seem bothered by Wanda’s closeness to you. In fact, she seems happy. It undoes the knot of worry before it can tug itself tight.

You don’t feel hungry at first, and you expect to struggle through even the small plate Natasha serves you, but find yourself pleasantly surprised by your appetite, once you start eating. The food is good, really good, and it’s perhaps also going down better tonight, because you actually did a bit of exercise today. Whenever you look up, Natasha seems to be pleased. And though Wanda doesn’t draw attention to your improved appetite with her words, she grants you an affectionate touch every so often, conveying her approval with a stroke of your hair, or a light squeeze above your knee.

When you finish your plate, you nibble your lip and look up. Natasha watches you for a moment, still chewing.

“Would you like some more?” she asks once she’s swallowed. Her voice is neutral; her smile is soft and unassuming. You do want more, but there’s that familiar tug in your brain, holding you back. Natasha tilts her head, but her expression doesn’t change. You know she’s figuring you out, though. She’s good at reading you. Maybe even better than Wanda, at times. “You know, I gave you a small portion to begin with,” she says casually. “Just to see if you liked it. It’s okay to have more, if you want.”

You look down at your plate, thinking. Fighting.

“Yes please,” you say quietly, looking back up at her and feeling the tension ease in your chest as you breathe out. She nods, her face unchanged apart from the smallest little twitch at the left corner of her lips. A tiny, hidden smile. A smile she’s containing, so she doesn’t put pressure on you. Knowing that makes it seep in through your skin, warm like a hug.

After dinner, the three of you move downstairs to the sofa, and Wanda presses play on the next episode of She-Ra without pre-amble or discussion. You tuck your feet up beneath you for a bit, your left hand lifting to your mouth and the fingernail of your forefinger pressing against your lips until you notice the habit and move your hand back to your lap. You feel so tired but also there’s still that familiar, constant buzzing in your body that won’t still. The longer you spend around them, and the more comfortable you feel in their presence, the harder it is to hide. You cross your legs and shuffle back against the cushions. But that stance only lasts for a minute, before you have to try another, sliding forward to dangle your legs over the edge again.

“Y/N, would you like me to braid your hair again?” Natasha asks. You turn to face her, sitting cross legged in the corner and waiting patiently for your response. You nod.

“Yes please.”

“Alright,” Natasha says, with a smile. She reaches forward, and pulls a hairbrush out from the shelf beneath the coffee table. Then she opens her legs into a V, placing her feet flat on the cushions at either side so her knees can lift up and form a clear space for you to sit. She pats the empty spot expectantly, and you stand up, left arm curling around your stomach as you approach. You sit down, and she gives you a gentle squeeze on your good shoulder.

“Same braid?” she asks you, and you nod. “Alright. Just focus on the screen to keep your head straight. If it hurts, let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree.

There’s a pause, in which you curl your fingers a little deeper into your waist, trying to contain the buzz, and the urge to move. Natasha seems to be considering something, considering you.

“Can you hold this for me?” she asks, holding something out in her left hand, and forcing you to unravel your anxious hold of your torso to accept the hair tie she holds out to you.

Natasha starts brushing your hair then, and you look back to the screen. You roll the hair tie between your fingertips, twisting and stretching it subconsciously as you tune back in to the episode. The combination of watching the show, fidgeting with the hair tie, and feeling Natasha’s fingers pull your hair into a tight braid — it settles you, muffling the buzz like a weighted blanket, until finally it fades away completely.

A/N: Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this, and I wish you well ♡

Taglist: (comment below if you'd like to be added to this) @nessheartnat ; @valerie-lexi ; @bishovapls ; @redheadsinmybed ; @electric-guillotines ; @naominanuq ; @alpalpym ; @dreaming-potato ; @snowazul ; @deathbylesbianwitches ; @queen-of-chaotic-surprises ; @loverluzer ; @methealt ; @theslutoflasignora ; @godhatesgoodgirls ; @absolutelyregal

#wandanat x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat #f/f fanfic #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #collision course #marvel fanfiction

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specialgradefckr · 2 days ago

Text

Anything you can do...

And what's so special about Satoru Gojo anyways? The way Satoru sees it, there's nothing the original can do that he can't. You shouldn't care about him anymore. You shouldn't care about anything but him.

This work is a part of a series! Read the first part here!

tw: explicit content. dubcon. drugging, captivity. selfcest. feet. yanderes all around. non-consensual cloning.

Gojo has one mission when he gets to you:

Clear his good name and prove to you that the "Satoru Gojo" who'd fooled you was actually a fraud.

Sure, you probably should have known from the beginning, being as obsessed with him as you were, but he had rejected you, and fixations can turn people to dark places.

It was probably all too easy for this phony to march into your life and convince you that all of your dreams had come true; Satoru Gojo loved you after all.

In a way, he feels kind of sorry for you. Really, he was about to break your heart for a second time. It's not even your fault! He himself could admit, the fake is shockingly compelling.

But you'd be devastated, truly. What a shame. To learn that all that love you received was from some stranger, a liar. That the man you desperately adored didn't really want you back.

Man, that's gonna suck for you! He tilts his head back, whistling as the car drives along.

Though he's still not really relationship material, he could probably stick around for that pity fuck. After all, you hadn't been ignoring him on purpose.

No; the reason you were ignoring him was because "he" was telling you to!

It was the perfect cover! If this guy was going to steal his identity, the number one threat to that was him - the real Gojo.

He'd probably intentionally told you to send those videos, only to laugh when you showed him the replies, and then explained that wasn't the "real" him.

The little faker must have even convinced you to keep sending them as a joke.

Then, if Gojo tried to tell you the truth, you'd just brush it off. And if he got pissed off from your messages, he might refuse to tell you at all - a win-win for the fake.

Smart. Of course, he'd probably have to be a little smart to fool you in the first place; his intelligence was one of his best traits. No way you'd mistake someone for him without it.

The car rolls up to your weirdly secluded, distant home. Kinda a pain to get to, honestly.

But it's worth it. Because if Gojo knows anything about that fake... he's probably watching right now. Who wouldn't, when Satoru Gojo was involved?

He steps out, taking time to stretch, let out a deep breath. A wide smile on his face as he stalks forward.

This is going to be fun.

What the fuck was this clown doing on your doorstep?

Satoru squints at the porch camera. Mostly just in annoyance, because he doesn't need to squint - six eyes and all.

Even then, it's hard to believe.

Not that Gojo was jealous and wanted a piece of you, now that he realized that he was missing out. That went without saying.

No, Satoru is shocked that he has the audacity to show up on your doorstep after turning you away. Rejecting you. Like he was drowning in genuine human connections and could afford to toss one out... ugh.

Even thinking about this guy feels gross.

"Go away."

The PA system is talking... in his voice. Which could be the phony, but also, you were probably obsessed with him enough to make a PA system that spoke exclusively in his voice.

Heh. You probably had it talk you through touching yourself, too, at least before the faker came around -

"So you're deaf, but I know you're not blind. DOOR IS CLOSED. GO AWAY."

A frown. "Well, that's not very nice of you."

"Oh, so you can speak? Well, shut up and leave. Loser."

Wait, no. No way this creep is calling him a loser.

"You want me gone that bad, huh?" Gojo slinks up to the doorway carelessly, ready to blast the handle open, "Gosh, must have something you reeeeaaaaally wanna hide, huh?"

"Typical." The PA system complains while he busts the door down, "Self-centered asshole doesn't know when he's not wanted. But that's just another day for you, isn't it?"

He pauses. "Wow. You know a lot about me. I didn't know I had two stalkers on board~"

There's an audible snort. "This is why you have no friends."

"I have tons of friends!" Comes Gojo's protest as he glances around the living room.

"Your students aren't friends, and they don't like you."

"Yuji likes me," Gojo strides quickly down the hallway, glaring with his six eyes for signs of life in the building, cursed energy.

"Yuji likes everyone. You also have no life."

The grin on his face turns sharp, wicked. "I have more of a life than you do. Taking on someone else's identity. Pretty scummy way of getting a girl's heart, don't you think?"

There's a pause - it's good to know he's shocked the phony into silence.

"You..."

Closer, now. He can see it! The cursed energy is concentrated, just inside this room -

And it's -

It's -

Him.

It's him. It's - it's Satoru Gojo, staring right back at him. The six eyes in the mirror. Only it's not a mirror, but a real, living person.

This is where Gojo decides he must be in a dream. Or a domain. Maybe you activated a secret curse technique? And this is a manifestation of your desire for him?

"...even hear me. Hello? HELLO? Stop staring and get the hell out of here. You'll wake her up."

Huh.

It's like he's talking to himself. It's him.

"How are you..." He trails off, tugging down the blindfold as he gesturing to the man across from him, "Your eyes. You have my eyes."

"You have my eyes, actually," Satoru answers without missing a beat, "I was here first."

Of course, he absolutely was not, but Gojo doesn't know that.

Gojo is pretty sure this guy is lying.

"Here first? Like, born first?" He glances down, catching you on the sofa, laying down, head in the other-Satoru's lap. "I got a twin brother I don't know about?"

No way the Gojo clan would be able to shut up and keep a secret like that to themselves. And even if they could, Gojo wouldn't be a little brother. He'd be the older one.

"Sure," Satoru says, in a hushed tone, with marked annoyance, "Now shut up and get out of your big brother's room. She's sleeping."

And you are. But from what he can see inside your brain activity, it's not normal sleep.

"Yeah, sure. Sleeping." His voice lowers. Cools. "Are you that desperate for my leftovers? Leave her alone."

And it is piercing, the glare that hits him. Six eyes going straight through him like an icicle. His own face twisted in an anger he doesn't think he's ever seen -

It's hot. Super hot. And unsettling, and strange, and he is so, so hard right now.

"Why don't you leave her alone?" Satoru hisses as you stir, "You're so jealous you had to come here?"

"Mmm..." Your eyes flick open, and Satoru's attention is immediately ripped off him.

He brushes your hair away from your eyes, leaning in to kiss your temple with a quiet, soothing hum.

Gojo's lips purse. All those videos; this guy fucking you, eating you out, ravishing you like a starving monster, using you like a fleshlight - and none of it had made him feel like this.

Something churns in his stomach. "Answer the question. What did you do to her? What did you tell her?"

"I love you," Satoru says, still staring at your sleepy-eyed face, and Gojo feels his stomach twist.

He stares, frozen in place. Satoru doesn't even look up at him.

"...Sa...toru...?" You mumble weakly, head falling to the side as if just that phrase was too taxing for you.

"Mmm-hmm, it's me!" Satoru smiles, a warm, fond look that goes all the way to his eyes. "I'm right here, love."

Creepy. The way he strokes your hair, holds you, dotes on you like you're some kind of pet. You're barely dressed, but not in anything erotic - just a large T-shirt. Probably one of his.

It's nauseating. Intimate. Domestic.

He's throbbing.

The worst part is, Gojo doesn't know if he's jealous of him - or you.

Because fuck, that smile looks good on his face. Features soft, glowing like a sunset, faint pink dusting his cheeks. Even the six eyes look like an ocean of warmth, affection, dripping down onto you. Those hands are fine, and cupping your face like that makes them appear even larger. Makes you look smaller.

And you're so cute like this. All tiny, curled up underneath him. He'd seen you commanding, cool, demanding, in the throes of pleasure, and unraveling; delicious, every time.

Not like this. Curled up and docile, nuzzling into his touch like a sleepy kitten. Leaning into him like an anchor, seeking out contact as naturally as you breathe. He feels sick with want.

"What did you do to her?" He says. The words sound out of place in this room, unwelcome in this sanctuary, "Drugs? Cursed energy?"

"Eh. Little bit of column A, little bit of column B. What's it to you?" Those eyes gleam quickly up at him, "This is your leftovers, right?"

"Please. She's clearly not over me if she's sending me your little sex tapes." Gojo takes a step closer, pulse soaring in his ears. "And you didn't answer my other question. What did you tell her?"

Satoru glares. "So you are deaf. You were right there when I said it. I love you."

It's so strange. His chest twists, hearing the words in his voice.

...he's never heard those words in his voice, has he?

"Not what I meant," Gojo skips over the issue entirely, "Did she find out that you're not me? Is that why you had to drug her?"

Satoru blinks his big blue eyes.

Silence.

He blinks again.

"You think-" A hand reaches up to Satoru's shirt, tugging, and he's looking down again, "Awh, what is it, sweetie?"

"Would you answer the damn-"

"Shut up!" Satoru snaps, pulling you carefully to sit up on his lap.

You fall against his chest limply, secured by an arm around your waist. Head tucked under his chin.

"You thirsty? Hungry? Wanna cum, baby? Just say the word." Satoru isn't even looking at him.

It's just - it's so annoying. This little shit sitting here like nothing's wrong, like he hasn't stolen Gojo's entire appearance and identity just to get with you.

He's got the fucking six eyes, and he can heal other people with reverse curse technique, and this is what he does? Fusses over you like a mother hen? Like you're the center of his world?

"You're disgusting," Gojo spits, surprised by his own vehemence. "Let her go."

You whimper and Satoru squeezes you.

Gojo watches; in horror, fascination, frozen to his spot as he watches Satoru's arm reach down, rolling up your shirt -

You're not wearing anything under there.

"Mmmhm..." You moan, lashes fluttering. Reaching up to grasp Satoru's muscled arm, weaky, while you writhe.

The sound sends tremors down his back, heat pooling in his gut.

Satoru meets his gaze with a low, knowing smirk. "Don't think she wants me to."

Gojo's feet take him another step closer. He's maybe one step away from you; two, max.

"And for the record, she's completely over you. I thought the videos would be evidence enough of that," Satoru shifts you in his lap, tugging your shirt up enough to bare your breasts, your cunt.

His hands roam your chest - they look so big on you, so wide, grasping, groping playfully over your torso, your breasts, drawing little noises out from you as you squirm fruitlessly in his lap.

His legs keep yours open. Wide.

It's dripping. Right in front of him. He feels like a deer in headlights, pinned in place at the sight of his own longer fingers plunging into your wet -

"But if you needed to see it in person so badly," Satoru drawls, and because he's closer, it's louder, lower, "Knock yourself out."

Those eyes meet him - his eyes - deep blue, intent, full of challenge -

Gojo lunges, driving his lips against Satoru's, shoving him against the sofa. You yelp, pinned between them, before Satoru pulls you closer with a hiss as he pulls away.

"The fuck are you doing?!" He glares - but his cheeks are dusted pink.

You squirm deliciously, and Gojo catches Satoru shifting behind you.

Straddling you, shamelessly, he grinds his bulge right up against you, and you moan, clenching on Satoru's fingers. He brushes Satoru's arm with his dick, too - heh. Let him see what he's packing.

Gojo doesn't tear his eyes away from Satoru's as he closes in on you, kissing at your cheek softly, "Is that true, baby?" He murmurs, sneaking a hand up along your torso to squeeze an exposed breast, "You're over me?"

Satoru's arm - the one that isn't fingering you - shoves at him, but Gojo doesn't budge.

"Come oooooon," He croons, nuzzling into your cheek as he holds his gaze, "You're not afraid of a little healthy competition. Are you?"

Close, closer - until their noses nearly touch. Until Satoru can see his eyes glitter with challenge.

"As if," Satoru rises to the bait, just like he would in his place. "I'm worried you don't know how to touch a woman. Seriously, not sure if you ever have."

He doesn't hesitate. He reaches straight for Satoru's dick - oh, it's long, hard, just as proud and pretty as in all the videos.

Just like his. Twitching as he tightens his grip.

The grunt he makes, face wincing in pleasure-pain; it's a familiar feeling to him, too.

"Awh, worried about little old me?" His smile bares teeth, "You're too kind."

He squeezes, drawing his hand up along Satoru's dick, watching his own handsome reflection tense in what he knows is mounting pleasure, a heady throb in his gut that always surges as he squeezes tighter at the shaft.

"Straight for the dick? Guess that's the only thing straight about you. Or maybe you're just that self-obsessed," Satoru taunts, as if his own dick isn't pulsing at a touch so like his own. "Just keep your hands off her."

And that last demand sends his gut churning. Something in him is enflamed.

He burns for it, for Satoru in front of him, possessive and beautiful, for you, delicate and treasured, for this thing between the two of you that magnetizes Satoru to your side and turns you to putty in his arms.

He wants. He wants he wants he wants and Satoru Gojo is not a man accustomed to being denied.

"Nah," Gojo nuzzles into your neck, sucking, nipping, watching Satoru's eyes linger hatefully on the mark he leaves, "I don't think I will."

After all, he's got to prove him wrong, right?

You're barely conscious most times Satoru wakes you.

It's not bad. At least you don't think it is, with your limited capacity to think.

The feeling is similar to being very sleepy, or very drunk. Half-stuck in a dream, only vaguely aware of your surroundings and what's going on.

But it doesn't matter, because Satoru is a diligent nursemaid. When he wants to be, anyways. When you need him to.

He brings you food, water. Feeds you, helps you sit up and drink. Distantly, you realize everything is probably laced, but it's all properly dosed, you're sure.

Otherwise you wouldn't be able to think this much. In these hazy moments when you can recognize what's happening.

So when you see another Satoru in the room, despite the warm body against your own, the breath on your neck, the arm around your waist - you aren't immediately worried.

Now, though?

Now you're a little bit worried.

"Who..." Your question falls seemingly on deaf ears as Gojo tilts your head to the side, sucking a mark into your neck.

It doesn't hurt, but Satoru's fingers curl tight inside you, his thumb brushing your clit, and you whine.

"Shhh, baby," Satoru murmurs from behind you, into your ear, "You worry too much. Don't worry, just sit back and enjoy."

"Oh, so now she's your pillow princess?" Gojo hums, "Big change from being her little slut locked up in a cock cage."

A scoff, cool against the saliva-slick skin on your neck, "Jealous much? I have someone who wants to make me feel good."

Satoru's fingers slip out of you, and you let out a breath, reaching up with your arms against the chest in front of you.

"Bet she wants to make me feel good, too," Pressing closer to you, "Bet she couldn't even tell the difference."

His chest is large, firm against your hands. The muscles are more defined, larger - even with the same genetics, Satoru doesn't get the exercise Gojo does - but you barely notice.

"Course she can't. She could hardly tell you her own name - not that you deserve to say it." And then a groan, "F-fuck. Let go of my dick already, you creep."

"Why, so you can fuck her?" A snicker, "You act so sweet on her, but you're really just using her to get off, yeah?"

"The fuck would you know about acting sweet? Have you ever told anyone you love them?"

There's a pause, there, where you feel the heat growing restlessly around you. Dazed, heated.

"Satoru...?" You mumble, head tilting to the side, cheek rubbing into the familiar cloud of white hair.

"...See? No difference." Gojo lifts his head, handsome face coming up to meet yours, "I'm just as good as him, right baby?"

His words are lost on you. All you can do is lean in for a kiss, lashes lowered, and feel his lips move against yours.

"Like I said," Arms, tighten around you, "Doesn't mean anything. You couldn't give her what she needed, and now you're nursing your wounded ego because I came around and did it better."

"You think?" All you catch is the sparkle of those crystal blue eyes.

He pulls away, tongue sticking out, lips still slick with saliva threading between your mouths.

Gojo's eyes catch Satoru's. "Bet I can make her cum with my mouth before you can with your dick."

"Sure, give yourself the biggest advantage," Satoru sneers, "Should I give you a ten minute head start, too, so you can find the clit first?"

Gojo slinks backwards, falling to his knees.

From your perspective, all you see is Satoru backing away from you - you whimper, reaching out weakly, voice low and longing.

It feels like a knife to his chest, looking at your face. The naked despair, the raw desire to have him back in your arms -

But it's only a moment before Satoru reassures you, kisses your cheek. Melting into his embrace comes naturally, relaxing as soon as you know your love has not left you.

It's as if you have to be touching him at all times. Like you need him the way you need air. It's cringey, codependent, but Gojo supposes that's the kind of sappy unrealistic stuff you're into.

He puts a hand on either of Satoru's knees, spreading his legs and yours.

"Up you go, baby," Satoru hums as he lifts you, and your feel his cock slip underneath your ass as he pulls you flush against his chest.

He bites his lip as Gojo snatches his cock without hesitation, guiding the head of it to slip past your entrance with a smirk.

"Could do both of you at once," He crows, "Your dick sure wasn't complaining about my touch."

And he knows exactly how to touch - to trace that weeping head with his thumb to get precum pearling at the tip, all mottled red and purple as it throbs in his hand.

"What can I say," Satoru shoots back, "You're obviously an expert. You and your hand must be so happy together."

Gojo fists his hand around his dick with a mean smile, clenching hard as he smirks up at him. Satoru bites his lip and holds you tighter.

"Baby," Satoru whispers, tilting your face to look back at him, "Cum with me, yeah? I'll tell you when, and you just gotta let go then."

"Oh, now you think she's gonna be the trained whore?" Gojo drawls, pressing Satoru's dick against your cunt. Still not inside, but enough to make you moan while Satoru hisses.

"Like you can say that," He grinds out, "You don't know anything about her."

"I saw your little videos," His eyes twinkle from between Satoru's legs; how he hates that face... but fuck if he's gorgeous, "You spoil her. Greedy little thing. She's used to getting whatever she wants from you."

Gojo's face slides up, up your thigh.

"Yeah she is, I do it on purpose. Cause I can." Satoru sticks his tongue out, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Unlike you."

Closing in on your cunt, on his cock, Gojo licks a line up Satoru's dick, enough to make him tense behind you.

"Yeah? You think so?" He suckles briefly at the trickle of cum at the head of Satoru's cock, making eye contact while he does. Unfliching.

And fuck, he looks good sucking dick. Satoru kinda wishes you had one, now... ooooh. Maybe a strap-on? Even more fun.

A slap on your thigh tugs his attention right back to the matter at hand.

"Don't make her wait any longer," Satoru lays a kiss by your temple, and you hum, "Or you can disappoint her with your shitty head game, and then put it in. Up to you, I guess."

"Shitty head game?" Hands guide his dick towards your entrance, as if he'd been waiting for the challenge.

A strangled moan escapes him as he slips into you, rutting his hips up. Open, shameless, because you're just that good. All wet and hot and clenching around him like your cunt can't stand to see him go.

It feels like he just belongs inside you. His hands reflexively trace over your cunt, your clit, where Gojo slaps them away.

"Hey, hey, no sabotage." If nothing else, Gojo does have sharp eyes.

He darts to the crest of your folds, right where Satoru's fingers had traced, opening his mouth over it.

At first he drools, taking in your scent. Those videos - the ones of your pet lookalike eating you out for hours, a hand in his hair like a leash.

Lapping, whining, drooling over you like a trained dog. Just the memory makes his dick throb. Mouth water.

Gojo spreads his mouth wide like he's seen, drawing his tongue over Satoru's plunging cock, up towards the swollen bud that seems to pulse against his teeth.

Careful, boy. Don't bite. The memory sends his hands clenching at your thighs as he devours you.

His mouth is so wet and warm it feels like it's melting over you, candle wax pressing hot into your clit as your walls stretch and stretch.

Dizzying. It's all so much, all heat swirling around you, inside you. Pleasure roils heavy, weighted, dragging you along in the surge of sensation.

He licks at your clit, all soft and perfect and it just swells like water against a dam, cresting to meet the tip of his tongue pressing into you-

"Shh, baby, not yet," Hands on your jaw, large, gentle, turning your head, "Look at me, hm?"

You do, helplessly, with a whimper, bucking into the mouth and the cock that have your insides churning.

Eyes. Pretty, pretty, the bluest eyes. "S-sa- ah - Satoru?" It comes out as a whimper, or maybe a plea, as you stare, enraptured.

He smiles and it's an instant reaction, a flutter in your chest that makes you squeeze around him.

Whatever he wanted to say is lost to a gasp, to the overwhelming embrace of your walls against him.

Satoru groans, and then he feels a wet, burning line trail up his dick as he pulls it out to drive into you again. Fuck, he's close.

"Lost all your endurance already, huh?" Gojo says, casually, mouth right next to Satoru's dick like he's having a fucking conversation with it. "Loser. It hasn't been long and you're about to bust a nut already."

And damn, he might be. There's something enrapturing about seeing his own face flushed and smug and nuzzling up to his cock like a hungry slut.

He clutches you like a living, breathing lifeline, nuzzles into your neck like it can protect him from the nasty whore's mean words.

"Didn't take long, did it? You lost all the patience she painstakingly trained into you as soon as you got the chance to stick it in whenever."

Satoru must have something in common with the dirty, filthy slut he was clone from, because those teasing words has his cock pulsing, heat building as he plunges back into the safe haven of your cunt.

Gojo watches from below, mouth gaping wide open over Satoru's cock as it drives in, out, in, out again. Breath hot over your clit, nudging it with his nose until you whine again.

Your eyes flick away from Satoru - and over to him - the same face.

You reach out a hand to pet his hair. Soft, fluffy; he rubs his head into your touch. Breath hot on where your bodies join.

"Hnnngh," His cock is straining, throbbing against the front of his pants; Gojo pulls away, lips still sticky.

Resting his head on your knee, he looks up at you - both of you - with big, wide eyes. A pout on his lip.

"Come oooon," He holds your leg, "Help a guy out, yeah?"

"You still haven't made her cum yet. Do you really wanna make it harder for yourself?"

His grin bares teeth. "Yup."

Somehow, though, he stares a moment too long into Gojo's eyes, into that flushed and fiendish face looking back up with him with barely contained need and hunger.

Satoru shifts your leg, "Come on, baby, like this-"

And soon he's groaning, his tall, lanky form jerking as your foot presses against the bulge in his pants. Satoru's foot guides yours down, down, where he grinds against it.

Gojo falls back into your joined sexes, moaning, panting, slobbering all over you both.

The original Satoru Gojo sure was a fucking whore. No wonder you were so anxious; this guy had no sense of shame, and probably no loyalty, either.

Your hands are still buried in his hair as he ravages your sex. It's so stimulating; the press of your foot down on his screaming erection, the salt of your slick on his tongue, the delicious friction of Satoru's dick pumping in and out - faster, now.

He widens his mouth to cover where his dick slides into you, sucking at the heated shaft as he purses his lips over your poor, tender bud.

"F-fuck," Your voice is broken in your throat, heart racing, it just feels so good, pleasure surging from your tightly wound core, "S-satoru-"

Satoru feels you clenching and squeezes for dear life, "Come on - you can hold - hold it-"

But the words escape him; as he, too, winces, choking on his own pleasure. Muscled abs clench behind you as he finally thrusts home, burying his face in your neck and biting down.

Liquid heat surges inside you and you wail; you feel yourself clamp down, waves of pleasure rushing in as you milk him.

Fingers dig into Gojo's hair and then the pressure on his dick increases. It's so fucking hard, swollen, pulsing against the force against it until it -

"Hnnngh," The sigh escapes him, ghosting over the burning, slick skin of your cunt and the dick embedded in it.

He mouths over it lazily. Tasting your shared cum as the afterglow bubbles through him.

You're glassy-eyed, panting; Gojo watches the mesmerizing rise and fall of your bared breasts. They're marked red, but he can't tell his handprints from Satoru's.

Fuck, you really are pretty. A vision, really, in this state.

Satoru behind you is no less so, all pink and flushed and lovestruck in the comedown. His eyes haven't left you for the last few minutes, but they dart towards Gojo has he slowly begins to recover. As brilliant and blue as his own.

He could almost get hard again just at the sight. If the stupid body double starts mouthing off again, he may anyways.

"That was totally me, by the way." Eh. Never mind.

When he looks up again, he sees your neck, bruised up where he'd sucked a mark earlier. It's darker, now. Heavier.

"You're crazy," He lays a hand on your thigh, shaking gently, "I was the one who got her off. Here, we'll even ask her."

"Mmm..." You stir, slumping back onto Satoru, whose arms wrap around your chest and tug you flush against him.

"Ignore him, baby," Satoru kisses up the other side of your neck, sucking a hickey or two as he goes, "You don't need that stupid prick."

"Lucky her," Gojo hums, "I'm here anyways. I didn't see you complaining either, when I had my mouth on you."

A kick of his foot - and Satoru discovers the bulge just underneath his foot had softened. When Gojo pulls away, there's a wet stain on the front of his pants. Satoru snorts.

"You seriously just got off to sucking us both off?"

"Like you wouldn't have gotten off to the same thing."

"Yeah, but only cause of her."

Discreetly, Gojo gives your leg another shake. Your straighten, slightly, and look over at him.

"Satoru?" Your voice is clearer, now, recognition lighting up in your eyes.

"A little familiar, but I guess I did have my mouth on your pussy just a couple minutes ago," He smiles that charming smile you love so much.

But the feeling of warmth, of security, the fine muscled form behind you, the soft hair against your cheek and the mouth that sucks and gnaws mindlessly at your neck; it's unmistakably your Satoru.

There's... only one other person it can be.

"Gojo?" You squint, and he laughs.

"Bingo!" He flops down on the couch, laying his head comfortably in your lap.

Satoru groans, half-heartedly shoving him away, but Gojo's already snuggling up to you.

You stare at Gojo silently, unblinking. He catches your gaze, smiling back, winking, even, despite your expression not changing.

"Aren't you... angry with me?" You say, slowly, as the pounding in your head recedes.

Gojo tilts his head to the side. "Why would I be angry? You weren't the one sending the videos?"

"What videos?" You frown, "And no, I mean... you know." You gesture to Satoru. "The clone."

"The videos of you and - the CLONE?!"

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #clone!gojo #x reader

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lo1k-diamonds · 19 hours ago

Text

Standing Next to You 💜

Will we ever see each other again?

PAIRING: demon!Jungkook x angel!(f)Reader

SUMMARY: JK is a lust demon — a powerful being that inflames desires at the simplest glance. That is his nature and all there is to his existence. Until there was you.

WORD COUNT: 12.7 k

ORIGINALLY WRITTEN: November 2023 (edited June 2025)

GENRE: Demon AU, fantasy AU, forbidden love, MV based

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: mentions of religious themes, like sins and virtues, mentions of torture, lewd scenes involving human souls and other demons, fear and anxiety, celesteal love making (I don't know what to call it, okay 😇)

A.N.: When I first saw the Standing Next to You MV, I had so many questions. I just needed to make all the amazing imagery come together. To this day, I still think this is the most unconventional thing I've written, and I like it a lot :) Welcome back, JK! Enjoy 💜 (PS, thank you, Raven @shadowkoo, for your help with the banner!)

Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

He raised his chin and looked down at the others gathered around on their comfortable loveseats, just like him. There was something in the way they spoke that irked him, and he found it extremely hard to hide, and as such, he didn’t. His lip curled in subtle aversion, and he ignored the conversation, turning to the lower level to watch.

The sea of souls dancing lasciviously and enjoying carnal sins in as much abundance as possible was a comforting sight. He didn’t remember ever being down there, but he remembered creating those thoughts, those urges. That was his purpose, and it filled him with an intense warmth he appreciated very much. It made him complete.

When the meeting around him ended, he got up and ignored the others' banters. After an eternity together, he was not in the mood for superficiality.

“What has gotten into you?”

The strongest, most piercing grip that could ever claw at his shoulder didn’t bother him the slightest. “They’ve been indulging instead of creating indulgence.”

The laugh from behind him was dark and sticky, like treacle dripping slowly down his spine. It was too intense, but he could handle it.

“Different demons have different talents. Some need to indulge to open the door, some just have to throw a look to turn a whole room into avid, lascivious souls.” The voice moved behind him to his other ear, whispering, “Not everyone has that gift, Jungkook dearest. You shouldn’t disdain those less able than you.”

Every word irked him even more, even if he knew others couldn’t hear their conversation.

“It’s not because they’re less able,” he insisted, turning to the Archdemon. “It’s because they don’t try. Creating the curiosity, whispering it into the first tremors, showing how to take the step forward.” His pose was immaculate, his dark eyes intense, as he stepped forward only to twirl, his arms wrapping around him. “And finally guiding it into the first sensuous longing that will become an ardent, beautiful flame of desire.”

He grasped the air with his hands to seize it, and his eyes shone pure carnality.

The Archdemon chuckled in amusement, and Jungkook stilled, relaxing his form. Screams of pure ecstasy and yearning were heard from the level below, but he didn’t look at them.

“It’s an art,” he insisted, and the Archdemon grinned.

“One you create like no other,” he agreed, smile so syrupy that Jungkook pouted. “That’s why you’ll keep making your art, leading rooms of souls into that beautiful flame.” He turned Jungkook to him with a flick of his wrist, towering over him like only such a beast could. “You leave the others to me and forget about any other matters.”

Jungkook sighed, and the Archdemon took that as an acknowledgement — he laughed and turned to other matters, leaving Jungkook on that stage with no reason to perform. He looked at the crowd again and pursed his lips. As usual, he was treated like a prodigy and left to his own devices. He wouldn’t complain; he liked being free. It was the lack of care and lack of enforcement of the necessary zeal that bothered him deeply.

He passed the other members of the circle and got backstage, only giving nods and glances to the other demons as they passed. He got into the lower levels of that orangey metal den and kept going lower. He liked to do that sometimes and see the products of his efforts.

Some thought less of demons such as himself, but it was nonsense. Lust was the easiest sin, the gateway into an unreserved realm of possibilities. Even if the soul didn’t indulge further in other, more egregious capital sins, it would rarely revert to being chaste. It was too sweet to skip, too liberating to be tied to, too intense to miss. As animalistic as it was, it was also the easiest to control, and he enjoyed reigniting the flames of—

He blinked and turned suddenly to another corridor in that engraved, sweaty maze. He thought he saw— But that was impossible—

He huffed and walked in that direction, using his agility and flight to go as quickly as possible. Souls shouldn’t be wandering that side of the den; it was backstage. Moreover, the shape looked… white. Which was impossible. Demons wore black, a consequence of their black feathers reflecting on their appearance. He had a black tight leather vest, trousers, and shoes, and—

He caught his breath when he saw something clearly white trying to hide in a corner, under some metal tubes on the wall. He frowned deeply, immediately pushed by his diligence to catch whatever it was and purge it.

He rushed in a second and flew over it, putting his feet on the ground so close that the figure almost touched his shoes. He towered over the cowering, trembling figure easily, his full anger blatant in his eyes as he reached to grab it, but then he froze.

You turned to look up at him with the most beautiful, shaken blue eyes he had ever seen. You were crying and trembling, fear disturbing your delicate beauty in a way that irked him a thousand times over.

He shook his head, disturbed by the image of grace itself so troubled, and raised his hands soothingly as if to catch you, but without touching you. He guided you straighten up with nothing but a look, and you sniffled while doing so. Your tears were shimmering and reflecting the light like tiny little stars, and he thought that pure light had no business emerging from your misery.

He heard the steps and the wings from further away, and so did you because you gasped quietly. Your eyes weren’t pleading; despite your fear, you accepted your fate. He also saw your curiosity; it was a spark that drew him to you like a moth to a flame, yet it stayed that way. Just a spark because you were simply and purely curious, like a soul who had never seen the sea or the snow and couldn’t name them even if they were before your eyes. How could that be?

He raised his chin for a second, and his black wings extended like shadows covering you both from the ceiling to the floor. You gasped again, louder this time, but he couldn’t be mad at you. He liked impressing you even if it risked getting you caught. But as the figures passed, blinded to you both, he felt an odd blazing certainty in his gut. No one could ever catch you.

You stayed like this for an indiscernible moment, just waiting for the sounds to fade away. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, and despite knowing it had to be a spell of some kind, you let it slide. It was in your nature to know exactly when to stop, and for now, your eyes wouldn’t turn away.

When he knew you were totally in the clear, he reached his arms around you, and you gasped as his wings closed in on you. You shut your eyes, darkness taking over you, and soon your feet weren’t on the ground. The wavering sensation was familiar, and you knew you were flying, transposing rudimentary things like walls and doors. You placed your hands over his chest, the black leather warm under your touch, and snuggled closer. Wherever he was taking you, you couldn’t do anything about it.

He landed softly on his feet, and his arms around you made it so you did the same, only a second later. He looked at your light brown hair, and he could have questioned himself, but he didn’t. Your gaze turned up to meet his, and the lightest color of blue in your eyes reflected the light. He thought that was a color he had only ever seen in the sky, and he immediately suspected what you were.

He stepped back as if giving you freedom, and you waited until he turned his back, watching his black feathery wings disappear before looking around. You were in a room with mirrors, lights, gramophones, and a small stage in the corner. It reminded you of an antique mini-theatre, and your lips curved with its charm.

He had stepped away to take a deep breath, his thoughts flashing from possibility to possibility before accepting that once he turned back around, he’d find you long gone.

But when he turned, you were still there, and the light shining on you didn’t bother hiding anything. You were wearing a white tulle mini dress that revealed way more than he thought someone like you would want to show. He could see the bruises on your skin, the traces of sweat that had your light brown hair still wet, just by your shoulders. He didn’t need to know, but your blinking told him — your cobalt blue eyeshadow was sparkling and instilling in him a sense of self-control he wouldn’t have had normally. He knew what you were.

It took you a moment to realize what he was. A demon, certainly, but what kind? Your first thought was wrath because he was angry when he first saw you. But he brought you to that room, so you thought of pride. He was certainly handsome and prideful about whatever art he seemed to adore. But now, gazing upon his dark, blazing eyes, you gasped mutely. You could feel something warm tracing up your spine, like the softest feather touch that promised a caress. It was trying to shake the pillars that held your judgment, working them ever so softly that you would want to melt in his arms and forget they ever existed. So that was who he was.

“You’re still here.”

You smiled and looked down for a moment. Not because of his question, but because his voice had puckered your skin into a million little particles of desire. You couldn’t believe it had taken you more than a heartbeat to know.

“I am.”

“Why?” His question was swift as his eyes bore into yours. He knew why, but he wanted something more. Your reaction to him wasn’t enough, and his reaction to you was a problem. He placed his hands on his waist, trying to placate his flame. He didn’t want to burn you, though he was incredibly tempted to.

“Because I can’t fly.”

Your eyes sparkled with annoyance before you looked down with a gentle smile. How could such a mild creature provoke his flames like this?

“Why? Why are you here?”

“I was captured.” Your eyes watered at the memory, and he knew what you would say. “I was held in a never-ending infernal fire and plucked for my feathers whenever they would grow.”

He closed his eyes, knowing it to be true. Your sweat marks meant you were in the deepest corners of hell, and your attire meant that your wings were not healthy. He faced you again, and the gentleness of your eyes pierced him thinly, like a needle soothing his emerging anger. That was no easy feat. He was a demon, but he adored all things pure and beautiful. Purity to him meant natural, instinctive, and faithful to one’s nature, good or bad. The fact that they would pluck yours out of you so cruelly angered him beyond words.

“Why?”

You blinked with a hint of confusion before smiling amiably. “You know why.” You waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. You thought this was odd, but it didn’t matter. “You know what I am, Demon of Luxuria.”

“I do, Angel of Temperantia.”

He could swear your eyes sparkled along with your smile, and he looked away, conflicted. Your nature was beautiful, and he was captivated beyond limits. But he shouldn’t be, he couldn’t. You were an angel. You were in danger. He shouldn’t help you; he knew who would have taken the pleasure of plucking out your essence. He turned away and clenched his fists, such fury coursing through him that a wrath demon would have applauded. It disturbed him beyond words to even imagine—

“Am I…” your voice echoed quietly behind him, and he turned around.

Your innocent blue eyes were the shade of concern.

“Unsettling you?”

“No.” His voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat. “No, not you.”

You blinked once as if measuring his words, but then you smiled gently, and his heart shook. You were absolutely exquisite.

“I don’t want to disturb you in any way, even indirectly.” You placed your hands behind your back like a child restraining from touching toys at a store, and paced around his room for a brief moment. You were taking in the edges of his soul, and his chest burned in anticipation and wonder. He had never felt that way before, and he was a demon of lust. “I understand what you must do.”

Your tone was kind and accepting as if all was already forgiven, and he clenched his fists. “No.”

“No?”

“No.” He could see the confusion in your expression, but he was just surer and surer. He’d never see you again; they’d keep torturing your soul, snatching your essence, and harvesting your sweetness. He couldn’t stand it. “No, you’re going to escape.”

“I can’t fly.”

“You’ll heal.”

“I have nowhere to go.”

“I’ll take care of that.”

“They’ll keep searching for me.”

“I’ll hide you.”

He stepped towards you, and his powerful wings reappeared behind him, drawing your eyes. They shone brightly even when reflecting his darkness.

He plucked a handful of feathers from himself, and you gasped as if you had felt his pain.

“Stop!”

“Here.” He extended them to you, but you only looked at him as if he had hurt you unbearably. “Take them.”

You looked about to cry in outrage. “No!”

He sighed impatiently and stepped forward. “I’m giving them to you. Willingly.”

“It harms you,” you whimpered, bright eyes telling him you cared for him.

“It doesn’t, I promise you.” You seemed confused, and he added, “Not when it’s my choice.”

Your eyes softened in understanding, and suddenly you saw it. Kindness. Could a demon have a virtue?

“But…” You stepped forward, a palm away from his feathers near to your heart, but you ignored them. “Will you— Can you survive this act of kindness?”

He wavered for a second; was that what this was? He looked at the feathers in his hand and then at your darling eyes. Was he acting selflessly without expecting anything in return?

He grinned and shook his head. “It’s not.”

You were surprised at this and looked down again. “But it is a sacrifice. What do you expect in return?”

He sighed and insisted, “Just take it.”

You looked at him and tried peeking behind the curtain, but his eyes hardened and didn’t let you. You saw it as a kindness and feared for him, but if he was confident it could do him no harm, then you’d accept his gift.

You let him place his feathers in your open hands, and you immediately grimaced. His power was so very different from yours; it was like a magnet pulling you infinitely to steal your ground. You tried holding steady, but you were in a weakened state. Your knees bent, you’d soon fall in and—

He grabbed your arms to stabilize you and you looked at him through the energy trying to suck you in. Instantly, the winds seemed flexible, their strength could be managed, and their direction guided. You let him work through you until you felt embraced. You felt warm and nurtured and supported, and it had been so long since you last felt safe that your eyes filled with tears. You opened them to find him leaning his forehead on yours, feeling that moment in his way. He opened his eyes, and your heart shook with worry.

“Are you okay?”

He smirked. “I should be asking you that.”

You shook your head; you were safe. That was a silly question.

He could read your insistence in your eyes. “I’m fine.” He stepped back and looked down at you, and so did you.

You were covered in black leather: a skirt below your knees, short-heeled shoes, and a jacket covering you modestly to your neck. He smiled; not even his essence could defile yours. Sure, you were wearing black, but—

Your eyes locked, and he stared. Your eyeshadow was now black, but your eyes remained the color of the sky. Your hair was the same, too, not darkest in the slightest. He thought it was beautiful to see his essence shimmering through you and wondered what other ways you could be compatible. It could be your influence, but he wanted to reach you in the middle. Distorting your nature would be the vilest thing, but finding a bridge to cross into your beautiful—

He heard a sound and instantly snapped. You heard it too, but he was already waving his hand to keep whoever wanted to come in out. You guessed this was his plane, so he could choose who to let in or not, but you were still scared. It wasn’t impenetrable, and they were looking for you.

“You need to kick me out,” you urged him. “They’ll hurt you to get me!”

He held you by the shoulders, gazing deeply into your eyes. “Can you fly now?”

You furrowed your brow and focused on trying, but pain instantly pierced your chest. You would have fallen to your knees if he weren’t holding you. “I can’t.”

He pressed his lips and didn’t move away, thinking while his hands had you. You wouldn’t complain; you felt safe with him.

“It’s okay, I’ll hide you.”

“I can’t stay here!” You were breathless. Despite your wish to stay by his side, you knew you’d be risking his life, and you couldn’t bear it.

“I know.” His eyes were glistening with something again, and you felt it, though you couldn’t name it. He touched your cheek for a brief moment, and your lips trembled. You didn’t want this to be goodbye. “You’ll be somewhere safe. You’ll heal and everything will be alright.”

You were scared, and you didn’t hide it. He gave you a look that permeated confidence through you before turning away and walking to the other side of the room. You felt abandoned, suddenly lost without his touch or comforting gaze. It didn’t get better when someone knocked on the door, and he let them in, which frightened you immensely.

“You called?”

The man was tall and well-built, wearing all black, although not leather. You instantly knew he wasn’t the same; he had no aura to him.

“Yes,” he answered the newcomer, and you could tell by the dynamic that there was a power difference. “You’ll gather the others and take her to The Grandeur.”

You were confused and pleading with your eyes, but he stayed where he was. His eyes were dark and piercing; maybe it was his energy that was embedded in yours, but you felt a strange warmth rising in your spine. No longer a subtle touch, you felt almost drawn to him, eager to find out what would happen if you allowed it.

“If anyone asks, she’s a newly converted soul.”

“That became a demon?”

The man sounded skeptical, and the demon turned his piercing gaze to him. “She’s a powerful creature. You don’t believe it?”

The man looked at you, and you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know how a demon acted, and even if you did, you couldn’t deceive anyone.

The man nodded. “She feels powerful enough.”

The demon looked at you again and nodded. “Good.”

You looked at him with a sudden shudder. He was so powerful that only a piece of him was that strong. Just who was that demon?

“You’ll protect her with your lives, no matter who comes for her.” You shuddered at his words, at his command. He was their Lord — they would obey. “Now leave, I need one more second.”

You watched the man dissipate into a black miasm, and your body moved on its own. You rushed to the demon hastily while he turned to you with open arms to receive you.

“The Grandeur?”

“The closest palace. Think of it like a hotel where the highest demons reside.” He was talking, but his eyes were tracing your features as he brushed your now dry and fluffy light brown hair away from your forehead.

“You’ll hide me there?!”

“It’s the last place they’ll look.” He saved your eyes for last and smiled. You were scared, maybe a bit grumpy, but you trusted him. “I thought angels were taught never to trust a demon.”

“We’re also told demons can’t be kind.”

He would have lost his patience with anyone else, but not with you. “I’m not. This is not kindness.”

“It is to me,” you insisted firmly, staring into his eyes. You weren’t afraid, and you trusted him. He could turn you in at any moment he wished, and he didn’t have to help you, much less sacrifice part of his essence to offer it to you, but he did. You could feel the urgency, the instinct that the longer you stayed, the riskier things were for him. But you still asked, “Will I see you again?”

For a split second, he wondered what you were both doing. Were you so entranced by each other that you were falling into the trap he, as a lust demon, had set a million times before? Was that even possible for an angel? Angels could be deceived, but surely not like this?

Then he cupped your cheek and let the fire blaze just a little more, contrary to what your aura would have him do.

He had his answer, as clear as your eyes. He nodded. “You will. I’m sure you will.”

You leaned into his touch, recognizing the sweet temptation his eyes represented, but then the world shook. You both looked around, and he stepped back.

“Remember, you’re a high-standing demon.”

And with that, he cast you out and placed you gently exactly where you needed to be for the lesser demons to put you in a limousine and take you away. He closed his eyes, sensing the planes parallel to his. Someone was so angry that it was rippling through all of them. The Archdemon would not rest until he found you, but now he’d be looking in the wrong place. That would give you a moment to breathe and rest, and him a moment to collect his thoughts.

He knew you wouldn’t heal in the blink of an eye; after all, you had no wings left. The level of torture and torment you had to endure for anyone to be able to suck your essence almost completely was immeasurable. Still, the Archdemon scoured every plane of his demon den, hoping to find you. He thought you were hiding somewhere; you couldn’t possibly have escaped his domain. And for now, that false premise would be what kept you safe.

But time was passing, and he knew you’d be somewhere. Angels didn’t die like that, immortal as they were, and powerful. Jungkook was not in charge of that aspect of that hell; he was a charmer, a seducer, a performer. He tempted souls, he didn’t help maintain hell’s prisons, and as such, knew nothing of such matters. Being kept out of the loop was unsettling, but it was also a good sign. Maybe there was still time.

He heard from his minions that you were safe and staying hidden. Every day, he would receive a report about you, but today his hireling looked dejected. It was enough to deeply unsettle him.

“What is it?”

“Miss is… She’s weaker. She tries to hide, but… she can’t lie.”

Those words shook him, and he gripped his hair as he walked from one end of his room to the other. He spent the night thinking about what was happening and what he could do. You should be healing, but instead, you were weaker. He didn’t know what he could do, and going to you was extremely risky. Having his minions in and out of places was not suspicious, but if he started frequenting The Grandeur without reason, it could be noticed.

So the next day, when his minion came with his report, which unfortunately remained unchanged, he handed him a letter. He hoped you would understand the way he had written it. To anyone else, it would be a blank piece of parchment, but not to you or him. He had written it using traces of his essence, as one would with blood, in a way only he could read. And you, because you had his essence flowing through you.

He could barely contain the excitement while he waited for the day to end and another to emerge. He was particularly effective that day, drawing in so many unsuspecting souls that he could laugh. He wanted you to figure it out and send him something as well. He wondered about it and got tangled in the many possibilities, which kept him up and excited all night.

When his minion came with a folded piece of paper, he got it and felt like a child who had just received candy. He opened it.

How are you? I hope you have recovered well.

And he laughed. He laughed because you were an angel — of course, you’d be worried about him losing a few feathers a week ago instead of your worsening state. But he was also happy. You figured it out, you understood his essence flowing through you, and didn’t reject it. You embraced it and, in turn, him as well. That made him ecstatic.

After that, you exchanged letters every day. At first, you remained reserved about your state, and he didn’t want to give away the fact that he was being updated about it, though you probably knew. Either way, he wanted you to share of your own volition, and he started sharing things too. Nothing that would worry you, or make you disapprove of him, but other things. Things his fellow demons didn’t appreciate, and that it turned out you did.

You admired the nature of all things and understood him when he expressed art as an emotion. He thought you’d hate it when he said he respected people’s natures when he tempted them, but you had agreed. It was in every soul the potential to do things with any degree of intensity. He shouldn’t tempt them, but the choice was always theirs. You believed in the balance of all things and that temperance was the key to everything. He, who had always been infatuated with the beauty and inevitability of desire, could respect that you saw it as something not sinful, but part of a whole. You spoke of other kinds of desire, not necessarily lustful or depraved, but that invoked the gripping feeling nonetheless. The yearning for a kiss, or a touch, or a mere presence. The longing to smell a flower, to listen to a song, or to repeat a familiar food. You debated passion versus lust, and he realized that was where you diverged: he saw passion as something that would lead to lust, and you saw it as the potential to do amazing things. He told you lust came from the desire to abuse something, and you disagreed. Lust came from a potent desire to experience something, but it didn’t have to be a bad thing. It didn’t have to be carnal either; it could stay in the mind and mold and evolve, as all emotions did.

He thought you two would combust in holy and hellfire, respectively, for even debating the limits of the virtues and sins you both battled for, but it turned out you didn’t. He didn’t feel any weaker or scorched, and as far as your health went, you were not getting better, but surely not because of your letters.

When his minion told him, along with your letter, that you were bedridden, he was lost. Two weeks. Two weeks, and you were so much worse. The worry was gripping his heart; he had the most intense desire to see you and know what was happening. That day, he didn’t open your letter; he flew straight to The Grandeur and onto your balcony. He was shrouded in shadows, and he would have knocked, but he couldn’t feel you, and he panicked. He barged in and immediately froze — you were sleeping with your arms over your belly and your light brown hair contrasting steeply with the white of the pillow and the paleness of your skin.

He sat on the bed next to you and held your hand. The shadow around your eyes was almost faded, and he could sense the black leather you were wearing hanging by a thread. His first thought was to help you somehow, and the only thing he could think of was to give some of his essence to you.

He leaned in and kissed your hands, and you sucked in a breath. He looked at you and felt your desire as if you were whispering it in his ear with the softest of longings. Your eyeshadow was black again, but you were stronger than before. He could sense it in your lovely eyes — you needed a pick-me-up, but you were healing.

He looked down at your hands. “I didn’t think you could lie, but I worried. I’m happy you’re healing.”

You tried sitting up. “I’m sorry. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I’m happy I did.”

His heart was pulsing strongly in his chest at the chance of being reunited again, and you reached to brush his cheek. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“Can you imagine how I feel, then?”

He held your hand to his cheek and your gaze. He was crazy, but he wasn’t fighting it. In his endless existence, nothing had ever felt like that. And the way you moved to draw him nearer, to have his forehead touch yours as if you needed his embrace to feel safe, had him feeling all sorts of things he didn’t know were possible.

“I don’t want to worry you.”

Your whisper didn’t annoy him or hurt him because he could see. “But you know I do. And you know why.”

Your blue-sky eyes rose to him. “Is that possible?”

He squeezed your hand. “It is.”

You faced him with concern and knew he could see it. You were afraid of being deceived, of having a weak heart that couldn’t see the truth. He was a lust demon, maybe wanting things was his way. But as an angel, lust wasn’t the emotion in your heart. It could be passion and desire, yes, but they were connected to another emotion that you weren’t sure a demon could feel.

“Will you tell me the truth?” you asked, fear emerging but quickly soothed by your temperance.

“I would never lie to you.”

You faced his dark eyes, which you had come to dream of every night. “Is what you’re feeling lust?”

“Not purely.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I desire you, but it’s not the only thing I feel.”

“What else… is there?”

He gripped your hand firmer and let his cheek slide until his nose could rest against your warm skin. “Something deep. Something tender that I don’t want to force or abuse. Something sweet that elevates my existence with thoughts of you. I don’t know what it is. I’d say it’s a flower, but flowers’ roots don’t reach as deep.”

“Is that… possible?” Your voice was a whisper, and he faced you again.

“I don’t know. I’m figuring it out as we go.”

You sat a bit better and made a decision. “If I asked you something, would you tell me?”

“Yes.”

“Would you tell me your name?”

He blinked; he knew what knowing the other’s name meant. He knew, and he didn’t care.

“My name is Jun—”

You covered his mouth. It touched you deeply that he would share something so precious with you. You were celestial beings on opposite spectrums, but the rules applied the same. Knowing someone else’s name was to have unparalleled power over them. Not even your captor had ever learned your name, regardless of the torture method he used. You would have died with that secret; it was your most important possession. Your self.

He was looking at you with patience as if he wished for nothing but that time between you, and you wished for the same. You saw the shine of that deep feeling in his eyes, and you let your heart give in for a beat — you felt the same. You felt absolutely the same way as he.

So you lowered your hand from his mouth and reached closer until your lips met.

He was caught off guard. He never thought an angel would— Well, weren’t kisses off-limits or something? The gateway into perdition or sin? But he didn’t question you, he wouldn’t. He didn’t care about any of those things; he was kissing you for the first time. And it filled his chest. It gave him air he never thought he needed, energy he never knew he could feel, and confirmed that whatever was taking root in his chest was real.

The stories were bullshit. You together were not impossible, you were not incompatible, and you could very well nurture the most sacred feeling of all. Even if it was forbidden, his heart was beaming. It had to mean only one thing.

He didn’t want to stop, but he let you pull away to recover your breath. He opened his eyes and grinned; your eyeshadow was as cobalt blue as the day he first saw you, and you felt stronger than before. Knowing he was the reason you felt revitalized made him grin shamelessly. You smiled at his glee, and you chatted for a while more before he had to leave. You were worried about seeing him again, but he reassured you.

“We have the letters, and eventually they’ll relent the search. You feel stronger already, soon you’ll be healed enough to fly away.”

You pressed your lips with concern. “And if I am? Healed enough?”

He had turned to look at you, and you saw it: a hint of possession before it fizzled out. “Then you call for me in a letter. I’d like to say goodbye.”

You didn’t hide the pain the thought caused you, and his eyes softened, though the corners of his lips remained down.

“It will be okay,” he had turned to you instead of reaching for the curtains to step out onto the balcony. “You’ll be free and safe.”

You reached your arms around him, holding him while you worried for his safety. You wondered if he could be found out, if you could become the reason he was cast out, tortured, or destroyed. Your heart couldn’t bear it.

You pulled away, and his kiss was waiting for you, stealing your thoughts for a brief moment. When you opened your eyes, you could see that it was part of his intent.

“I’ll see you soon.”

If only he could see you more.

Every day was torture, knowing that eventually his time with you would end and he would never see you again. He had moments of adoration, of wishing he could take care of your every need at every waking moment. But he also had moments of anger, of wishing he could carve his heart out and stop feeling that retched way. Because he would lose you. You were perfect, the perfect match to his anomaly, the untold impossible cause of a demon swaying his depraved ways, and for what? He would lose you regardless. He would, for your safety. He would because he wanted to set you free. He would because your well-being was more important than his selfishness.

He would groan in the night, lying on his bed, thinking of you while he indulged in a sin you would have disapproved of. But he was a demon after all, and he saw every other soul living their dreams but him. They would bask in their appetites, savoring the deepest desires hidden beneath all layers of civility and ethics, and step into the light as souls true to their nature. He had indulged in it himself for as long as he could remember; demon, human, or otherwise, it mattered little — the soul’s beauty was what mattered. But now he couldn’t. His fire wouldn’t waver in their presence anymore, and it felt pointless. Not the pleasure itself, which he knew could feel good, but it wouldn’t ever scratch what it could feel like with you. He knew he’d never feel it — you were an angel. Not an asexual creature by any means: no one could hide desire from him, not even you, and purity angels existed as well, which meant that to be chaste, one would have to be able to feel lust as well. But still, he doubted you would ever indulge in such a desire, even if you had it. Though he never thought he would abstain from his, and there he was.

He observed the other demons and souls as they searched and indulged in their pleasures, but he remained quiet and absent-minded. It wasn’t like an endless orgy in every direction swayed him anymore, and he was doing his part just by being there. His presence was enough; he never had to lift a finger — before, he just wanted to.

Another demon from the circle climbed onto the stage where Jungkook was just lying and observing the crowd. The naked demon was laughing, covered in fluids of many kinds, but still thirsty. Jungkook ignored him and focused on a soul he noticed was staring and getting distracted. He reached out with his hand, and it was as if the stage moved closer, within the soul’s reach. It was a woman with dark brown eyes, long, fiery hair, and skin that glistened with sweat every time she took a breath. Her eyes were fixed on him with adoration while she jerked a man off, who was busy with someone else, and another woman with short blond hair plunged her mouth into her center.

Jungkook kept his arm outstretched, and she raised hers, meaning to touch him. She had been thinking of him ever since she first saw him. It started with curiosity, with wanting to know more, but then it evolved as the want blazed in her heart. Now she was thinking of him fucking her mouth and using her lewdly, and he just looked at her. She would never be able to touch him unless he wanted it, which he didn’t, but his gaze was enough. One more second of his dark eyes and she could feel his nails gripping her hair as he plunged so deep in her mouth, she choked and drooled uncontrollably. She closed her eyes with a deep moan, a fulminating orgasm electrifying her nerve ends, and he withdrew his arm, returning the stage to where it was.

“Why not make her dreams come true?”

Jungkook shrugged. He didn’t have to justify himself.

The other demon chuckled. “Why not let her suffer, then?”

The demon didn’t wait for Jungkook’s response and jumped into the crowd again. Jungkook took a deep breath. He was not a sadist; he was the delicious temptation that always kept their promise of becoming something better. Different demons had different roles. But why had he helped her…

He let his head fall on the stage floor and wondered about it. Maybe because he wished the same grace could be granted to him. Perhaps because he now knew how much a heart could truly yearn and suffer from absence. It wasn’t the same, of course. What he had for you in his heart wasn't comparable, but still. Small blessings.

He felt the instant the Archdemon entered the plane, and Jungkook purged his thoughts immediately. He couldn’t risk even thinking of you in his presence. The Archdemon had absolute control over everyone, including Jungkook.

“Ah, Jungkook. Are you going to perform something?” He laughed smugly, and Jungkook just moved to the center of the stage. His mind was on his dance and performance, and he kept going for as long as the powerful being wished it.

His thoughts only flew back to you once he was in his own plane to rest. He didn’t regret meeting you, desiring you, or transcending his feelings into what many thought was barred from the chests of both demons and angels. He felt inexplicable things because of you, he knew more, and he reached deeper. He grabbed himself with nothing but the thought of you opening your arms and inviting him in. The dream of feeling you turned his dark soul incandescent. That was who you were to him.

So to keep you safe, he stayed away, watching every grain of sand pass towards its inexorable end. The Archdemon never stopped his searches, so it was a countdown to have you escape before he could find you.

He thought this race would be tense, but just a moment in time. Soon, you’d call him to say goodbye, and he'd watch you fly to your freedom, taking with you all these heartfelt emotions. He would think of you and dream of you, and you would be safe, spreading your generous nature to everyone you met. He was bittersweet about it, but accepting.

What he didn’t plan was that the world would suddenly shake, even from within the Archdemon’s layer of hell. Jungkook instantly got up from his couch, alarmed, the same as the other demons overseeing that crowd of souls. Something big had to have happened for such a shockwave to reach them, and he later learned what it was.

You were not confined to your room at The Grandeur. You wouldn’t interact with any other demon or stay in anyone’s presence long enough, but watching the sky and either the sun or the moon gave you peace. You were on one of your escorted limousine rides when demons started intercepting the vehicles, looking for something, and you grew nervous. You couldn’t deceive or lie, you thought, gripping the black leather to your chest. Your presence could be masked, but one look at you and they would know.

Your anxiety grew to the point that your power rose to the surface, with the instinct of survival flooding you. You couldn’t control your anxious heart, and as such, your grace was acting on its own. Fortunately, the minions with you intercepted you in time. Suddenly, you had familiar faces inside the limousine, balancing your light with their shadow, and you thought of him. If you were found, they would know who those minions answered to, and he would be caught. He would be tortured and broken apart for daring to even look at you, and you couldn’t bear the thought.

So, you turned inward in meditation and focused on his essence within you. It was usually scorching hot and indomitable like a wild animal pushed to a corner with nowhere to go. But today, you didn’t stay respectfully away; you couldn’t. Today, accepting him wasn’t enough: his essence had to overflow from your pores and mask yours.

You stayed focused in this effort until you were worn out, drained from suppressing your shine to let his darkness beam somberly. You were about to pass out when you opened your eyes, the vehicle moving, you didn’t know where. All you could do was raise your hand with a folded message that only he could read before you blacked out.

Jungkook later learned you had passed the patrol, but your energy was still detected. He knew as soon as he saw you lying unconscious in your bed — your light was being oppressed, and you needed to leave. He kissed your forehead to transmit his darkness to you, and you took a deep breath, needing only one second to recognize him and jump into his arms.

“I was almost caught!”

He held you closely, supporting your head gently. “Almost.”

“I think… I think I used your essence too much.”

“Or not enough,” he argued, looking deeply into your sky-colored eyes when you moved away. “Your light provoked a shockwave that was felt. Everything shook to the deepest corners of this hell. He knows you’re still here, and he will turn everything upside down to find you.”

“But—” Your eyes were glistening in confusion. “But I tried so hard!”

He brushed your cheek. “You can’t suppress your light, even if you want to. This time it worked and you escaped, but it won't a second time.” You frowned with sorrow, and looking into his eyes, he was even more sure. “And my darkness will no longer be enough. Once you’re strong enough, it won’t last.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “No! Don’t even think about it!” He grinned; your concern for him was adorable. “I won't keep consuming parts of you to stay hidden, that’s despicable!”

His grin widened as he looked down. “Maybe… But it would be a righteous way to go.”

“Don’t say that!”

Your voice shook with fear, but his grin never wavered. He cupped your cheek with a certainty you couldn’t understand. “Can you fly?”

You grimaced and tried to soul-search within yourself. “I’m… hurt, but… soon. Very soon.”

“How soon?”

“Tomorrow.”

Something dark crossed his eyes for a moment before he closed them, and you were anxious. Then, your soul shimmered, and you were filled with serenity.

“Tell me,” you asked, supporting his hand to your cheek. You waited for his dark eyes to come to you before you filled him with ease. You never thought it would be possible to affect a demon, but this one was different. You knew him inside and out.

“It’s time, but they’re tightening their grip. You won’t be able to leave in these circumstances.”

Your brow creased ever so slightly. He was right, but that was not what you had asked him.

“I’ll create the opportunity for you to leave.” Your eyes instantly told him you disagreed, but he continued, “I’ll summon every higher female demon to a performance. And you will come too.”

You were shaking your head, scared and confused. “They’ll catch me!”

“They won’t know you’re there. You’ll take enough from me that you’ll be just as dark as any of them.”

You blushed; you didn’t know if that was a good idea.

“But in my performance… I’ll sow chaos. I’ll make everyone’s darkest desires come to the surface, I’ll turn them crazy and wild. I’ll make them cross the line, and the Archdemon will be furious. He’ll send his lackeys, and everyone will run from his wrath. While he’s busy handling this, you’ll slip away.”

He was comfortable with his plan; he knew he could do it, you saw his confidence in his dark eyes. But something was unsettling him.

“When?” you asked.

He looked down and frowned. “Tomorrow.”

“Do you hate tomorrow?”

You still had difficulties interpreting the range of his emotions. He grinned. “I hate that I can’t stop it from coming.”

You couldn’t hate, and time was inevitable, as many things were. You reached for his hand. “Will we ever see each other again?”

He couldn’t face you, but the lines in his expression hardened.

“Come with me. Let’s run away together.”

His eyes jumped to yours. “You’d take me with you?”

Stars twinkled in your eyes as you smiled, and he was breathless. You genuinely wanted him by your side and were not afraid of what that would mean.

“I thought only humans could feel this way,” he confessed, eyes tracing your features with the utmost longing. He missed you as if you weren’t there in front of him. He yearned for you as if you were the brightest and most distant nightly star. He revered you in ways that would seem abhorrent to any other demon, but he couldn’t catch himself.

You smiled. “I never doubted we could. I have faith that every creature can embrace all states and emotions and still focus on the balance within themselves.”

“Aren’t we disturbing that balance?” His eyes darkened, and you only smiled at the caress navigating your skin. His tangible desire flowing around you didn’t bother you anymore.

“Not when you have become a part of it.”

His breathing stopped with his eyes boring into yours, but you stayed calm as ever. He heard you, and you spoke nothing but the truth. His essence could never fuse with yours, but it coexisted within you peacefully. Almost lovingly. He had to know of the feeling inside your chest; you never hid it. He was part of you now.

Yet he swallowed dryly, recoiling. “What if you fall?”

A delicate line showed between your eyebrows. “That would imply a sin.”

He scoffed, but his expression was sad, and you didn’t understand. You reached out to brush his soft cheek.

“Not every desire between two souls is a sin.”

He took your hand to cover his mouth and kiss the palm, and you could see it. He had fears, but he tried his best to disguise them.

“I’m not sure that’s true.”

You couldn’t suppress a chuckle at his white-and-black view of the universe. “A sin is also an irrevocable choice to do evil. Would I be doing evil, then?”

He shut his eyes, hiding in your hand. “I don’t want to find out…”

It was the first time you saw his fear, and you knew it was for you. He was so worried about you that he was rejecting you in every way.

You raised his chin. “Don’t be afraid.”

Your tone was firm despite your kindness, and his guts twisted as if he had been caught off balance. He was embarrassed, staring into your eyes as you saw so deeply inside him. But it was odd. He knew that with anyone else, he would have instantly rallied to protect his secrets, his core, and keep any risk away. But not with you. He wouldn’t lash out or push you away because you accepted him. He wasn’t afraid of being vulnerable with you. You carried his essence; whatever there was to know about him, you already did.

“I can’t help it…” he confessed, nuzzling your palm for comfort. “I don’t want you to fall just because—” He didn’t know how to say it, and you waited with a firm gaze. “I don’t want you to suffer for having crossed paths with me.”

Your resolve wavered for a second; was he saying that was all it meant to him? Just crossing paths? When you thought there was a feeling taking root in him in the same way as with you?

Your lips curved gently. “I understand.” You took a deep, pacifying breath. “If the Archdemon finds us, he will imprison you, torture you, or worse.”

His expression hardened — he knew what you meant. Yet your eyes watered with the pain that thought caused you.

“And yet you speak of my suffering for crossing your path.” You could have chuckled, but there was no mockery in you. “I can’t bear the thought of that happening to you.” Your voice wavered as you faced each other. Your soul was as open to him as it had always been. “I don’t want to exist if there’s no chance that I’ll ever meet you again.”

He lounged for your lips, his expression hardening at the softness of your kiss, the tightness in his chest, and the certainty that you only spoke the truth. That was your authentic heart, and he wanted to drink it as if he had been dying of thirst. He couldn’t hear you speaking of not existing, and he wanted to plunge into whatever ocean carried you so he could always stay near. He wanted to bask in your light forever, even knowing that it blinded him. Because he didn’t need to see, the way his heart was beating for you was enough. All you had to do was be, and he would follow.

He was lost in this reverie as he kissed you, grabbing your arms to loop them around his shoulders and sitting closer to hold you firmly. You saw it and stepped carefully, but you continued. You had to ask yourself what kind of desire that was and if it was pure, and every step of the way, you knew it was. You had made your decision, and if it turned out to be wrong, at least you knew you did it with a good heart.

His kiss deepened, and you knew what to do, against all odds. It was probably his essence within you guiding you. It felt overwhelming for a second, but he waited for you to match him. He didn’t want to overrun you or ensnare your senses; he wasn’t trying to steal your free will or instill temptation to make you sin. He was quite simply adoring you with his lips, and it tranquilized you because you could feel the heart beating underneath.

But suddenly he pulled away. He was frowning deeply, though he didn’t move very far. You looked up at him from where you lay under him on your pillow, and he opened his eyes. “Shouldn’t you… stop us?”

You reached out to brush his cheek. “I don’t want to stop.”

He was startled and held your wrist. “Wait.” He looked confused, but then he faced you again. “I’ve heard that before. Countless times. It’s the first step. I can’t help it, it’s my nature. But I don’t want to condemn you,” he sounded tortured, and he was about to move away when you grabbed him back to stay put.

“You’re assuming it’s a sin again. I asked you before: would I be doing evil?” His eyes were darker and darker; he was fearful, so you answered in his stead. “No. Uniting with you could never be an evil act. It’s as pure as any other expression of this feeling. I can adore you in words, in feeling, and in action. That can’t be wrong when it is true and pure in itself.” His eyes widened and glistened, and his expression still showed disbelief, so you sighed. “I can only know the purity of the feeling in my heart. If yours is different, tell me.”

He instantly shook his head and leaned to hold you closer. “It’s not. I feel the same. I feel crazy, none of this makes sense, but whenever I look at you, I just know.” You closed your eyes, letting his deepest truths caress your skin gently. But he hesitated. “Aren’t you… disgusted by me?”

“Are you?” Your question was simple, but he frowned. “Maybe I should be, I was with the others. But not with you. With you, I see and feel so much more that— There’s a balance. There’s just a cosmic balance.”

His dark eyes revealed his thoughts, and they were enough. You knew he agreed, you knew he felt the same way. You were entranced, like two opposite beings were meant to be, trapped to orbit the other without the ability to exit the magnetic field you created by yourselves. But it wasn’t bad, you thought, as he traced his lips down your neck reverently. It was inevitable, and you didn’t want to fight it. You had faith in the two of you and your hearts.

You were the one who, through kisses and caresses, decided to pull back the energy that covered you. It extended from his essence inside you, and yours, and without it, your body was fully revealed. He waited a moment before pulling away enough to look at your exposed body with a single look of solemnity before looking into your eyes. His gaze was grave because he understood — without your wings protecting you, or his essence, you were at your most vulnerable state, unprotected should anyone wish to harm you. That was how much you trusted him, and he took it seriously. He retracted his wings and all the protection they provided him as well, but you didn’t look down. Your eyes stayed on him as you smiled, and then you opened your arms, and he shook. He rushed to press his lips to yours, rattled with the opportunity blooming in front of him like out of a dream. For a moment, he believed he was asleep.

But soon you were kissing him with passion and looking to unite with him at all levels, and his fire raged. For a second right before he felt you, he saw in your eyes the water of temperance that created you. The water of longevity and forbearance that he could never hope to attain, but that he admired. Inside him, his craving was a fire threatening to burst out and consume you both, and he wondered how that was so. How was it that your temperance didn’t smother your passion, and his lust didn’t pervert him into derailing everything?

He only understood it when you finally connected both in body and spirit, like a key to a lock. He unlocked your potential from the clutches of austerity, and you unblocked a fervor that could burn without consuming. He felt it now, and so did you. Every time he thrust into you, attempting to intensify that carnal tension, you answered back, tightening, gripping, and holding. You were giving and receiving in a fire that didn’t have to reduce to ash.

You were ecstatic with the union of your bodies, never having felt such caresses or touches to your actual skin. You had almost died, and the only things to ever graze you had been blades and claws, just to make you suffer and bleed. But now you knew that it was possible to be touched and scratched in such a vulnerable form and not hurt. There was pleasure in the vulnerability, in the closeness, but you could sense there was more.

He was lost in the way you were together because it was as new and unique to him as it was to you. He had been with countless souls and felt innumerable bodies, and yet nothing compared to you. His deviating urges were satiated in a way because that was not what you were doing. He didn’t know it was possible ever to have that hunger quenched; he was a demon. He was condemned to starve for lust for eternity, and yet not with you. He pulled away from your kiss for a moment to confirm this: he was inside you, buried deep between your legs as he moved slowly; you were naked, lying on a pillow and holding his arms in support, cobalt blue eyeshadow emerging with your essence bubbling to the surface. You were beautiful, straight out of one of his wildest reveries that could never come to pass, but it did. You were real.

You knew that both of you were awestruck with your pleasures, but you sought more. Not out of greed, but because your sharing of each other was not yet complete. You wanted every part of you united with him, balanced between you in harmony. That couldn’t be achieved just with your physical bodies. It was time.

He lowered, each arm framing you sweetly as he kissed you, and your essence flowed to him like a brook. Surely and velvety, like a cloud coming to cushion and soothe any ache. He moaned in your mouth in a mix of ecstasy and relief, and you couldn’t help your bliss.

He parted your lips but stayed in the same place, breathing heavily as he looked into your light blue eyes. You had no idea how it would feel to him to have your light, but you were happy it didn’t hurt him.

He was blinded to anything else that wasn’t you, breathless with the sparks shining inside him like thousands of suns. You were the embodiment of elation, the bliss evoked by demons like him to convince others to seek a pleasure that was too utopian to achieve. But there was no deception there. You were not deceiving him with delusions of pleasure or illusions of grandeur. You were truly elevating him to another level of enlightenment, and his knees became weak.

He brushed your chin softly with his lips as tears filled his eyes. “You’re so—” His voice dissipated under such joy, but he wasn’t blinded. His eyes were wide open. “I don’t want to weaken you.”

You smiled, and he knew he had to protect you above all things. “I won't be. I’ll be filled with you, and you’ll be filled with me.” His instincts roared inside him, urging him to take you and keep you for eternity. “You’ll be stronger, and we’ll fly together.”

You brushed his sweaty hair falling over his eyes and nodded in assurance, and he fell on you again, kissing you. You exchanged essences, communing in spirit, and elevating your physical senses in a way that culminated in a blazing supernova, igniting both your senses. You felt it so intensely you thought you would have emitted light in that plane and across many others, alerting all demons in the seven hells, but fortunately, you didn’t. That radiance was only seen by both of you in each other and through each other.

It was so intense that parts of him disintegrated in pleasure, just to be reassembled again, like grains of sand fusing to create glass, only to be shattered and melted into cohesion again. He feared that it was the prelude of an event horizon and that the subsequent black hole would suck the both of you in for infinity, but he was at ease. Even if that happened, you would be united in eternity, and that could never be a bad thing.

Instead, and as you expected, your essences compacted together harmoniously, never mixing, only coexisting tenderly and nurturing. You came down from your high together with him and smiled at him before exhaustion took your senses.

When he woke up in the middle of the night, he was confused. In a good way, he felt as though he was waking from a million-year-long sleep, with his senses heightened, at the ready, strong, and cunning. He could face anything, but his eyes immediately fell on you. You were sleeping quietly under him, and he had slept on your chest, lulled by the sound of your heart and warmth from your arms holding him. There was no need to fight the battles of the world when you were right there in a moment that needed to be relished and cherished.

That was the moment he contemplated both of you, what you were doing, and all those emotions. He had a melody in his ears, a few words just about on the tip of his tongue, and a spell on his mind that would sew all the chaos needed for you two to run away. Together.

He brushed your sweet, light brown hair and realized that wasn’t enough. To escape, it wouldn’t be necessary more than his usual power, but he wasn’t his usual self. Not with your essence scintillating in every corner of him. He didn’t have to, but he wanted to exalt you and what you meant to him.

Later, you woke up and gently petted his raven hair. He was again on your chest, charmed by your pulsating heart, and when he looked up at you, you wordlessly requested a kiss that he promptly gave. Every time your lips brushed, he could feel the infinite in which your souls intertwined, and if he had wondered if there was a limit to that feeling, now he knew there wasn’t. There was absolute adoration in his chest, and if he ever doubted it, you just showed it to him again.

He was inside you again, both sinking into your body and mingling with your soul when you whispered, “Harder.”

The fire in him erupted like a flame fed on gasoline, and he knew it could risk becoming so overwhelming that it would consume you both, but it didn’t. He obliged your request, diving so deep into you that he feared you would hurt. You didn’t hurt; he could hear it in every breath, feel it in every particle, and you weren’t consumed. He was a powerful demon, further empowered by the strength of an angel, and even then, he did not harm you. He sought in you the answers, but you were tranquil—you didn’t have them, but you didn’t need them because you were balanced. And so he searched for his, and as you both exploded into new universes, he understood. He was reunited with his origin through you. It was as if he were back to creation at the zenith of his existence, yet without denying his true nature. Existence was meant to be experienced in this way, and he couldn’t go back. It wouldn’t make sense.

Your soul radiated with the last traces of your union, and you sighed, fluttering back to reality. You wanted him marked in your body and spirit, and it felt right. If you were caught, then at least you would remember that sensation. And you would for eternity because no other soul in the cosmos could fit yours like his. You knew the emotion that was now part of your soul, as it should be.

He had to leave to put things into motion. “The sooner it happens, the sooner we’ll be free.” You smiled as he reached the balcony, ready to fly away, but not without cupping your cheeks first for one last caress. “You’ll get an invitation, it will be signed JK—my initials. Worry about nothing other than being at ease. When the time comes, you’ll know what to do.”

You were already at ease, brimming with a confidence you suspected wasn’t entirely yours.

Your foreheads touched for a moment of affection and longing before he gave you a confident look, stepping back and flying away. You took a deep breath and readied yourself for the waiting. What were a few hours compared to an eternity in each other’s company?

Two hours later, you received the parchment that self-combusted before touching your hand. You eyed the underling, but he just nodded, and you were reassured. You could only read the fiery ashes because of his essence: In half an hour, JK.

You didn’t ask questions; you were more than ready for this event, and you stepped into the limousine. The trip was unimpressive; what surprised you was seeing him casually walking as you passed by. You lowered your window, but he just glanced and then at the horizon, where you knew others were gathering to reach the event in time. You couldn’t risk everything now, so you closed your eyes and let the vehicle take you. Soon, you saw the façade of a concrete building as sterile as the rest of the landscape, except for a golden ‘JK’ carved in the center of radiating traces of light. Your eyebrows twitched, thinking he had maybe risked a bit too much, but it wasn’t the time to question him, nor did you feel inclined to.

Your limousine was the first to arrive and stopped facing the stage of that hollowed construction. It wasn’t fancy, but you recognized it didn’t have to be. Other limousines parked on either side of you, and you could feel the animosity bubbling. The envy, the rivalry, the malice — whoever was inside those cars wanted something and was there to have it.

When you thought the tension would snap, you decided that being inside the car trying to peek wouldn’t work. You opened the moonroof and climbed out, moving to the front until you could sit with your legs to one side and support yourself on the opposite side with your hand. You could feel the jealousy saturating the air like smoke, but you couldn’t be bothered. The air also carried a familiar energy, and the show was about to start.

The music suddenly started, and dancers wearing black started pacing and crossing paths all around the stage until he appeared from in between them to dance with them. You were surprised; he meant a musical performance? As far as demonic rituals go, you hadn’t expected it. Also, he was wearing a white V-neck crop t-shirt alongside his black pants, and you held your breath. As he danced, he looked up at you, and you shivered; he wasn’t hiding it, but neither were you. Your eyeshadow was black, matching every single piece of cloth reverberating from his essence inside you. Black-heeled boots and tight pants followed by a semi-transparent waist cincher corset. Above it, from your chest, two cloth strips stemmed that covered your chest in both directions and were tied chaotically over your right arm in a sleeve. As he danced in perfect synchrony with his dancers, his dark eyes were set on you until he stepped his foot once, and you felt the air shift — the spell started.

His lips moved, though what answered was a distant echo of his voice, “Standing next to you.”

His foot pressed on the base of the microphone stand, raising the microphone to his lips, and it was just him. “Play me slow, push up on this funk, and give me miracles.”

He twirled with the stand and closed his eyes, and you knew it would work. You didn’t know if those words touched you so deeply because of what you had shared together, but even you weren’t indifferent to his charm.

“Make it known: how we left and right is somethin' we control.”

He circled the stand, and you felt weirdly hot, as if you had been summoned, called by your name to replace the stand.

As if he heard your thoughts, he faced you with dark eyes and beckoned you to come closer before singing cleanly as he contoured your shape in the air, “Screamin', I testify this lovin'.”

Your heart shook; his words. He had actually named—

He stepped to the side while his dancers flocked around him, holding the microphone stand to give him a voice as he kneeled, as if in a plea or prayer. “Screamin', I testify that we'll survive the test of time, they can't deny our love.” He grabbed the microphone and stood clear, facing anyone who would hear him, but with his eyes inevitably set on you. “They can't divide us, we'll survive the test of time. I promise I'll be right here.”

The voices echoed around you, but you were starstruck, trembling as he danced and echoed something neither of you had dared to say aloud. Something you wanted all universes to know, but would have never imagined he would proclaim so blatantly. It was insane.

He told of how deep that feeling went before the lights flashed to the wild beat. Then he twirled, and a black jacket covered him, formed with sparkly metal chains that you recognized. He was showing parts of you, tempting fate with such confidence. As if his words weren’t enough, as if you weren’t facing him on that stage on the front row with his dark eyes set on you at every given chance. He knew he was too strong for any of them to detect it, especially since he had your love.

He was so in it, he felt like an incandescent star. That was his game, his nature. Enticing and ensnaring were things natural to him, and his effects were fatally effective. Even demons wanted to see him perform for the chance to burn in that lustful desire that only he could create. And yet, those were not his thoughts this time around. He had voiced his soul regardless of the chaotic spell he was trying to cast, and as he did, images of you running away inside the Archdemon’s den flashed through his mind. He was there, thankfully, and he had found you. He danced as he remembered your state clearly; he would protect you forever.

“Afterglow, leave ya body golden like the sun and the moon.”

His hand slid slowly to his crotch, and you tilted your head, knowing the feral scent in the air couldn’t be avoided. His spell did not enchant you; you saw beyond its crude nature, but the echo replying, You already know, gave you goosebumps. It wasn’t obscene, and it wasn’t meant to ensnare you, but you knew of all the ways you intertwined. More than that, it wasn’t his main focus, because when he again proclaimed his love for you, he looked at you and placed his hand over his heart. He was singing about staying by your side forever because of that feeling that no one could deny, when his dancers fell back into a circle around him as he stood, reaching for the light above. You were touched; he saw you as a miracle that would take him high and beyond, worth any obstacle.

Then he looked down at you and repeated, “They can't divide us, we'll survive the test of time. I promise I'll be right here.”

You had underestimated him — his capability and his power. As he performed body and soul, you met in another plane parallel to that one, but exclusive to you both. That was why you had white over your skin, and he black — two opposite essences that now flowed freely through both of you.

You heard him in both planes when he declared he would stand in the fire next to you, and you felt it. His dark eyes lit a familiar flame that could withstand your flowing waters of temperance as if they were flammable. You didn’t mind it, whether he was alluding to the fire of hell that would torture you both for eternity should you get caught, or the supernova blast of when you fused body and soul.

Everything about the performance was intense: his sharp eyes, powerful voice, preaching lyrics, and almost aggressive dance moves as he cast a spell that would soon discharge all the tension that had been building up. You knew it, you could feel it, and yet in another plane, he was gently caressing your cheek. His eyes were firm, almost possessive as he claimed that love couldn’t be taken away by any external force, and you almost smiled. No, indeed. It couldn’t.

Echoes of his voice sounded all around again and again — he would stand next to you. He wanted you to know it, and you did. You also knew it was the calm before the storm, and it was confirmed as the underlings walked to the space immediately after the stage. He bid your eyes to stay on his and not face what was to come. You could feel the jealousy sparking in the air, charged with a desire and envy to feel such a way, and with him. You couldn’t feel such an emotion yourself, and you wouldn’t — you were sure of you, and his heart held no secrets.

Still, he stepped back, and his attire morphed yet again. A single long black jacket and pants sparkling with stars of your light, and you knew it was time. The music crescendoed, and his movements became sharp and aggressive as the fight broke out around you and you vanished, seemingly to protect yourself and escape. Through his essence, you could tell things were escalating with such power that the Archdemon was aware. It was a matter of time until his wrath descended there — your window of opportunity was small.

He jumped to the center, focusing intensely on something before his dancers formed the shape of enormous black wings spreading out from him, until his spell faded and the music ended. By then, the limousines had escaped, and time was ticking. You exited the shadow and stepped over the dusty, barren floor to get to him, leaving traces of water and sparkling energy behind. You weren’t paying attention; soon your energy would burst just the same as his.

He met you halfway, his dark, committed eyes on yours, and you faced each other. You were ready. Together.

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ackermanrage · 21 hours ago

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heyyyyy yaaaaa i am in love with the way u write levi. i would like to request a levi x fem!reader myself where its the scene where everyone’s at the beach. hange pushes reader in the water and reader comes back up all drenched and soak, her shirt is all wet and see thru. she looks like a scene in a movie where the female character emerges from the water all hot looking lmao 😂. levi is immediately flustered and enamored by how she looks, but then notices the other male scouts are also gawking at her, so he moves to cover her with his cloak.

ʙᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴅᴀʏ ʙʟᴜᴇꜱ (ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴅꜱ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀꜱᴋ ʟᴇᴠɪ)

levi ackerman x fem!reader warnings: none :) an: I made the reader a captain too, because i dont like age gaps :3, hope thats fine with u and thanks for the request!

The sun was brutal.

Not in a punishing way—no, this was the kind of heat that softened even the coldest soldier. The kind that made you forget titans and death and strategy meetings. The kind that melted war-worn muscles and coaxed laughter from quiet mouths. Even Levi was shirtless, lounging beneath a shaded outcrop of rocks, eyes hidden behind narrowed lids.

He hated it. But not enough to leave.

You were with Hange, squinting out toward the horizon, your boots abandoned on the sand, your shirt loosely tucked into your waistband. The water sparkled under the sun. Hange, grinning like a maniac, nudged you with her shoulder.

“Captain~” they urged. “You’re sweating like a pig. Wanna take a dive?”

You rolled your eyes, pretending to resist. “Only if you go first.”

That was all it took. Hange’s hands shot out.

A yelp escaped your throat as she shoved you clean into the water.

SPLASH.

Levi’s eyes snapped open.

At first, it was nothing. Just a splash. Scout teasing scout. He’d seen you tossed into lakes, shoved off training platforms, dragged through mud. But then—

You emerged.

The water clung to your body like it had a vendetta. Your shirt, once plain and white and innocent, was now soaked through, nearly transparent. It clung to every curve, leaving little to the imagination. Your hair was slicked back, droplets sliding down your jaw and collarbones, your mouth open as you sucked in air, laughing.

It looked like a damn movie scene. Like the kind of poster teen boys would hang in their room.

And that’s exactly what was happening.

Jean choked on his water. Connie let out a low whistle. Eren's mouth was half open, a beat away from saying something stupid before Armin nudged him hard. Even Reine, stone-faced, deathly quiet Reiner, was very much looking.

Levi saw red.

Or maybe pink. Or some humiliating combination of both, because holy shit, you were gorgeous.

His jaw clenched. His hands twitched.

Then he was moving.

Fast.

By the time you were stepping out of the surf, Levi was already shrugging off his cloak. You blinked up at him, dazed, still half-laughing.

“Levi—?”

He didn’t answer. Just threw the cloak around your shoulders, yanked it tight, and glared daggers at every other man in a 30-meter radius.

“What?” Jean coughed, looking away. “It’s just water—”

“You got something to say, Kirstein?” Levi’s voice was flat. Lethal in a way that made Jean’s entire spine straighten.

“Nope. Nothing at all. Great beach day. Love the ocean.”

Levi turned back to you. You were still blinking at him, wet lashes fluttering, half-hiding your smile.

He scowled harder, arms crossed.

“Your shirt’s see-through,” he muttered.

“I noticed.”

“Everyone else noticed too.”

“I noticed that, too.”

A beat passed. Then two. You tilted your head.

“…Are you jealous?” you asked, voice low, teasing.

His ears turned pink.

“I’m not jealous. I’m pissed.” A pause. “—at Hange.”

“Uh-huh.”

You grinned, taking a slow step closer beneath the cloak. The fabric smelled like him—clean soap, metal, and something stubborn and sharp, like pine. You could feel the heat off his bare chest, see the faint rise and fall of his breathing.

“I think you’re cute when you’re flustered,” you said.

His eyes narrowed.

“Shut up.”

You reached up and tugged the cloak tighter around yourself, letting your fingers brush his.

“Make me.”

His lips parted. His heart kicked somewhere in his chest. His brain short-circuited for a solid two seconds.

“…Tch. Brat.”

But he didn’t move away.

Instead, he planted himself right next to you—between you and the rest of the scouts, arms folded like a human wall, cloak draped protectively around your shoulders. His expression said don’t even think about it to every single one of them.

And later, you caught him sneaking a glance at your lips as you bit back another laugh.

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nerdyscouttribute · 2 days ago

Text

Just Friends (Wunmi x Michael

Summary:Wunmi and Michael confess their feelings to each other

Warning: none, this is fluff with a slight mention of something sexual, but it's literally nothing

An:I didn't proff read this,maybe later I will. I forgot she was British while writing ,so imagine her voice how you like. I don't know when part 2 will be out,but hopefully soon. Play the song below , when the story mentions it. Enjoy!

Michael and Wunmi walked back to their trailers side by side after filming their characters' love scene. Standing in front of Michael’s trailer Wunmi stops and turns to him,”did you mean to grab my hand”,she says ,her voice very soft. Stunned by the question Michael answers saying,”I didn't even know your hand was gonna be there ,I was just going with a feeling”. A pause hung in the air until Wunmi said,“Yeah me too”,stepping back a little towards her trailer.

Before she could make it up the stairs to the door , Michael's voice cuts through the air,” You wanna chill in here a bit ,before we have to start filming again”, his door now pushed halfway open. With hesitation clouding her face she finally nods. Walking up the steps passing him through the door- her ass rubbing against him. Michael clenching his teeth feeling her rub against him, the feeling so familiar. Thinking back to the scene they just filmed;his sweats start to feel tighter.

Now settled on the couch, Wunmi looks up at Michael standing still at the door. With a curious smile grazing her lip she says,” Are you just gonna stand there until they call us back”. Snapping Michael out of his daydreaming; stepping in ,closing the door behind him. Putting his hands in front of him trying to cover up his situation.

Without a beat Wunmi notices; her hand going to cover the smirk that was now on her face.

“You want something to drink”, Michael says still trying to hide his hard on. Wunmi nods her head saying sure. Michael walks over to the couch with Two water bottles in hand

“So what you invited me in here for”, Wunmi asks, grabbing the water of his hand. “I just wanted to see where your head is”. Michael didn't know it but that was a loaded question for Wunmi. She felt like everything was moving fast. From the audition to now, sitting by her co-star and feeling things she shouldn't feel.

Taking a deep breath before talking she answers,"I'm just taking things in, I feel like things are moving faster than I keep up with”. Michael nodded, staring a hole into the side of her face. He sat the water bottle down in front of him, reaching over to grab her hand in his. Grabbing Wunmi's chin , turning her to look into his eyes as he spoke these words. “ You don't have to say this- I'm not this , I'm not that. Wunmi you are fucking everything”.”I'm not sure if you notice, but people admire you. They feel your heart,because you lead with it, your eyes are kind and your spirit is warm,and just for the small time we've been around each other ,I feel safe anytime you're in a room”, Michael says.

Now, looking just staring at Wunmi, hoping she heard his words and believed him. Noticing tears swelling at the corner of eyes, he reaches his hand out , wiping them away before they get to hit her face. “ I didn't say that for you to get emotional, but to tell you that you're seen , for your talent and effort,and a damn good effort it is,” Michael says with a smile on his face. It slowly wipes away as he notices Wunmi still not saying anything,” Are you o-”, Wunmi cuts him off placing her hand at the back of his neck bringing him in for a kiss.

Shocked, Michael pulled back from her hold, before their lips could touch. Bringing Wunmi out of the trance she realized what she did. Shooting out her seat-water bottle long forgotten, sputtering a bunch of apologies making her way to the door. Before she could grab the handle, Michael reached out to her hand. When he grabbed it, the feeling of when they were in that cabin shot through him. Without thinking he turned Wunmi around , his hands cupping her face , slamming his lips on to hers.

Sitting there ,still.

Until, she moved her lips against his. Hands falling from her face to her waist, her hands moving to his shoulders-hands curling in his hair. The longer it goes on the messier it gets. Tongue plunging into each other's mouths. Moans bouncing off the walls of the trailer. Michael felt like he couldn't get enough of her. He wanted to live in her presence. Without a second thought, he grips Wunmi on the back of her thighs, lifting her legs around his waist. Pulling a gasp out of her,” Wait Michael you sure you got me”, She says unsure of his actions. “I always got you”, Michael says, bringing his lips back down to hers.

Tongue going deeper. Michael started making his way to the couch with Wunmi in his arms. Sitting down never stopping what he was doing. Leaving kisses down her neck, her fingers gripping his shoulders, as she slowly grinds her body onto his.

Knock,knock.

A sound hitting the trailer door ,knocking them out their cloud of peace. Barely an inch apart, breathing in each other's air. Michael shouts towards the door asking what they wanted. They answered back saying they were needed for a camera test. With a sigh he shouts back alright. His head now sits in between Wunmi breasts, breathing her in. Her hand now laying a calming presence on the back of his head. “We'll talk about this later, but for now let's act like nothing happened”, Wunmi said, making a move to move off of Michael’s lap. He grabbed her hips, stopping her from moving. “But I don't wanna act like this didn't happen. I wanna explore more , so promise when we get the time we'll sit down,and talk,” Michael said looking up to Wunmi with soft eyes .

She brought up her hand , palm resting against his face. Placing a kiss to his lips, to his jaw ,biting his ear, she whispered,”I promise”. Now getting off his lap, she looked down noticing the way his dick begged to be free from his sweats. “Handle that, quickly”, She said, making her way out his trailer.

With her finally out of the room he felt like he could breathe. Resting his head on the back of the couch he pulled his dick out his sweats. His tip was already covered with white liquid . It didn't take him long to finish ,with the image of her fresh on his mind ,and the smell of her fresh in his nostrils. Imagining what it feels like to cum in her ,while she rode him instead of his hand.

Cleaning himself up ,he made his way to costume. “ Just act like nothing happened”, Michael whispered to himself hoping he could do it.

————————

Walking on to the set of the juke joint ,now in his Smoke outfit. He started looking around for Wunmi, stopping once his eyes met hers.

Wunmi was having a conversation with Ryan about what the camera test consisted of , when the room started feeling different. The energy felt still. Her eyes drifted around the room until she saw him. Michael walked in-in his Smoke fit. That was it , that was the energy she felt. The feeling of him ,as if their souls were connected.

Her eyes stayed locked in on him. Seeing him look around as if he was looking for something,or someone. That's when the feeling hit her like a train. Their eyes met. Feeling a hand on her shoulder snapped her out of it. Now a mess of emotions, she stutters out an apology. Following Ryan to her mark in front of the camera.

Nervous to face Michael after what happened in his trailer . Nonetheless she straightened her back ,as Michael walked in front of her. Noticing how tense she was, he asked if she was alright. “Yeah, just tryna get through the day”,she answers, a sigh following after.

Before Michael was able to say anything, Ryan started giving them directions. They turned to the camera, then to each other. It looked different now , it wasn't Wunmi and Michael-no it was Smoke and Annie. Turning the head but not body, backs now to the camera. Back to back. Now back to their original stance. Ryan told them to turn to each other.

Without even thinking, his hands moved on their own. He started fixing her necklace, stilling her earrings ,twisting them into place, fixing the neckline of her dress.Settling his hands on her shoulder dragging them down her arm.

Wunmi felt overwhelmed by his touch,a small smile grazing her face. She looked down ,and to the side trying to avoid his gaze.

Michael liked that , he wanted her to squirm more.

With a serious smirk on his face,hands behind his back, he took a few steps forward, now chest to chest with her. Wunmi looked up, meeting his eyes. Seeing the smile on her lip , it caused him to break the serious look on his face ,and start smiling as well.

She stepped back now being able to breathe . Having him that close to her was making her lose her mind.

—————————

Wunmi was gathering her stuff together , getting ready to leave. When she heard a knock on her trailer door. Walking over looking through the window she saw Michael standing looking nervous. Opening the door, she looked at him with worry on her face. “ Are you alright?”, she questioned. Michael didn't answer with words , just with a nod. Seeing he wasn't gonna say anything, she motioned him inside.

“I just wanted to check on you and see where your mind is at”, Michael said slowly, carefully with his words. Wunmi answered with a short answer of , “ My mind is in a good place”. Michael turned to her seeing as she finished up packing her things. “I meant about what happened earlier in my trailer”, Michael said, his eyes meeting hers. An abrupt stop in her movements. “I liked it ,but nothing else can happen”, Wunmi said, picking up her stuff ,heading towards her door.

Before she could make it to the door ,Michael reached out and grabbed her arm. “Look, I just wanna talk”. Seeing the harsh glare Wunmi was giving him ,he let go of her arm. Once again pleading his case,”We can get something to eat,and go back to my place and chill”.

————————

Now, here they're sitting on Michael’s couch. Avoiding starting the conversation. “Martin” playing low in the background. Takeout boxes sitting on the table in front of them.

“You dragged me here saying you wanna talk ,but all silent now. I could've been in my bed by now”, Wunmi says , irritation dripping from her voice.

Startled by her sudden outburst, he reached for the remote ,pausing the show. “I just don't know how to approach this , shit I didn't even think you liked me that way”. Michael says. “Just start from when you got feelings for me”, Wunmi says , a now soft tone surrounding her voice.

Michael starts talking ,thinking back to when she auditioned.

“Aight ,I'm about to have them call in Wunmi now, she auditioning for Annie”, Ryan said to Michael who was sitting there looking bored.

Totally zoned out ,Michael just nodded. That's when Wunmi walked in the room. His eyes hooked on to her, then she walked in with confidence following her. His eyes trailed her body like she was his prey. From the way her jeans hugged her thick thighs ,snatched to her waist. White blouse,slightly unbuttoned.

He was so entranced by her ,that he didn't realize Ryan was calling his name. “Bro you good”, Ryan said with concern on his face. “ Yea-yeah,umm yall ready”, Michael said, staring at Wunmi right in her brown eyes. “Whenever y'all are”, Wunmi said with a soft smile never leaving her face.

Getting up , they acted out the 7 pages Ryan gave them. From Ryan's view he would've thought they were Smoke and Annie ,who lost a kid and spent 7 years apart. Michael felt a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time. Every time he gazed into her eyes he didn't even feel like he was acting. He felt like a teenager aging, looking at his crush from across the room.

Wunmi finished her last line, a now nervous smile grazing her face. Not wanting to leave her space, Michael kinda just stood there-until Ryan yanked him over. “ So how do you think she did ?”Ryan asked Michael, who was amazed by her talent. “Fantastic”, was all he said. So Ryan walked over giving her the news that she got the part . While he was talking Wunmi looked over his shoulder seeing Michael jumping up and down with two thumbs in the air ,with a big smile on his face.

“Wait, is that how I got the part?”Wunmi said, sitting up ,bringing him out of the memory. Frantically Michael said” no-no that's not why. You might not see it ,but your talent is out of this world. The way you portrayed Annie from just seven pages was the shit. Yeah I also loved how you look, with your hair in a ponytail, and white blouse that showed off your neck. But your talent and our chemistry is what got you the part”. Wunmi just smiles ,leaning forward, setting a couple pecks on his lips. “ I'm shocked you remember what I looked like that day”, she whispered . “ I remember everything about you," Michael said, grabbing one of her hands into his.

“Mmm, you wanna know when I knew I liked you”,she said, twisting the ring on his finger.

Michael nodded, eyes trained on her twisting his ring. “When you told me I was fucking everything”, Michael's head shot up ,looking her in the eyes, saying to continue. “ I always kind of had a feeling, but when you said that”, she paused, taking in a breath. “It just clicked. That was insecurity of mine, still is”, she said looking down at her hands. Michael cupped her face ,bringing her head up , concern on his face ,as he saw tears building up in the corner of her eyes.

“ but you didn't know that ,and somehow still knew what to say”, Wunmi says, a slight smile now on face . Michael didn't think twice , bringing her face to his. Kissing her , tasting her tears. Pouring into the kiss , what he couldn't form with words. Pulling away he says,” I will always be there to tell you that, and I won't stop until you start believing it yourself”.

Wunmi pushed his back onto the couch, straddling him. Pulling him into another kiss. Michael’s hands hugging around her waist. Tugging them close ,until they were chest to chest.

Withdrawing , gasping for air. They sat there staring into each other's eyes. Speaking into the silence Wunmi says,” What do you want for your career, and life”. Arms sitting on his shoulders, running her fingers up and down his neck.

Before answering Michael pulled her closer ,until her head was lying on his shoulder, and he was breathing into her neck. “I'm not sure what I want for my career, I think it's been going down the path I want it to go down”, his words being slightly muffled. “Now my life , I like how it's been going, but I wish to travel more , find love ,get married ,have kids. Maybe even have you right there with me as I do it all”, he said lifting his head from her shoulder.

Wunmi still ,her breath started to get slower. Raising her head to look into his eyes. Trying to see if he was serious.” As a friend or what”, she said, still trying to come to terms with what he said. “ I mean as the person I'd get married to , but if not, I'll always be your friend”.

Laying her head back on his shoulder, she just started talking, “ My career is going good ,but I want it to get bigger , or at least for Hollywood to get better”, Wunmi said , a sigh leaving her mouth.

“ Now for my life, I want to grow closer to my roots, and maybe get married and have kids”, a smile now resting on her face. “Is this marriage and kids happening with me or you got someone else in mind?”Michael said, lifting Wunmi's head off his shoulder. “Take a guess “, Wunmi said before , leaning down and kissing him.

It caught him off guard, but only for a second.

After a few minutes , they finally separated. Trying to catch their breath. “ Not to kill the mood ,but you can't tell anybody about this”, Wunmi said in between breaths. Michael looked at, with a calm glare. Why he questioned? “ I don't want people to get the wrong idea, don't get me wrong I like you ,but I don't want people to doubt my talent by thinking I slept my way to the top. After the movie is done you can tell people”. Michael understood that ,he hates it ,but understands. “ Alright, as long as I can keep kissing you”, he said smiling .

“ That you can do ,but not right now, let's play 21 questions”. Wunmi knew it sounded childish, but what other way to get to know someone.

They tossed questions ,until they got to one that sparked something in Michael’s mind.

“What's your favorite song?,Wunmi said.

“You answer first “, Michael said with a grin on his face. “ I don't know why you got that look on your face ,but my song is “I'm Still in Love with You"by AL Green”.

“OK I see, you got some taste”, Michael said nodding his head. “Well let's see if you have any ,what's yours”, Wunmi said , head tilted to the side. Confusion appeared on her face when she saw Michael get up. Michael grabbed his phone connecting it to his speakers. Wunmi didn't know the song that started playing, but that didn't matter , Michael was gonna sign it to her.

Girl, I know this might seem strange

But let me know if I'm out of order for stepping to you this way

See I've been watching you for a while

And I just gotta let you know that I'm really feeling your style

Wunmi started laughing , as Michael walked over to her. Singing the song as if it was his own. Reaching his hand out to her still singing. Still smiling, she grabbed his hand. He pulled her close to him, pushing her back out spinning her.

Putting his arms around her waist, as he arms rest on his shoulders. He leaned down to her ear whispering “ This aint my favorite song ,but it reminded me of us , I'll wait however long I need to , to tell the world your mine”. Now staring in her eyes ,to show how serious he was.

No other words needed to be said, she pulled his head down into a kiss. That's where they spent the rest of the night ,in each other's arms.

I'm not trying to pressure you

Just can't stop thinking bout you

#sinners 2025 #elijah and annie #wunmi mosaku #sinners #annie and smoke #michael b jordan #black women #fanfic #black fanfic writer #black writers #black love #Spotify

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freesoul-07-blog · 1 day ago

Text

Pick a Pac: Tarot 💗

Hi lovelies! This was originally suppose to be a four pile reading. However, the cards I got for the final pile lowkey gave vibe of 2nd pile of the last pac I did.

And honestly, I didn't feel like interpreting the cards again. Maybe the the collective needs to hear new messages for a change? 🙆‍♀️ If not, your crush just want us to leave them alone lol. And I respect that.

Your crush's current feelings for you 👀💥💦

How do you choose your pile? Take a deep breathe and meditate on these images. And whichever picture draws your attention the most is your pile. Tho feel free to pick more than one pile, it may have additional messages.

Pile One

Hi everyone, so right now I feel your person is working hard. They are likely focused on making money, learning new skills, & pretty much anything that would help them grow and succeed. Page generally represent new energy / early stages ... so i won't be surprise if they recently started working. Or planning on building a business. Or even trying to ground themself in reality. However, I'm also seeing a little backward energy with image of the card, as in, they are moving ahead, but not completely over the past. So that was the second card i had pulled out, but it gives off very present energy to me forcing me to interpret it first. Now, looking at the first card, I'm definitely sensing some kind of missed opportunity that this person is thinking about. Maybe they were a little heartbroken with the bloodstains. I can see there are three cups that fell and there is a lot of blood spilling. It also gives me a little three of cups energy. Okay, so I'm getting a message here that your crush and you likely did not have a concrete connection. Maybe the feelings were not even expressed here? Whatever your situation is, this person is feeling the loss of this connection. A opportunity that never truly lifted off the ground.

As I said, they're working on something, building a career maybe, but something happened recently that tug a reunion string in their heart. Maybe they ran into you accidentally? Maybe you texted? Maybe someone mentioned you? Either way, that caught them thinking about the missed opportunity. Thinking about what was years back, or months back, or weeks back, take how it resonates. I'm also seeing that with the blood spilling out of the three of cups, I'm seeing it's just fresh, somewhere they did not expect for them to still feel this way. Whatever the feelings are, I guess it resurfaced, and then they realized that, okay, maybe I still feel something, yeah, again, it also giving like a grass is greener on the other side energy, to an extent. What I'm feeling is, they are so caught up in this five of cups, three of cups energy, they're not seeing the two of cups behind them, like they think missed opportunity, they're thinking about their own resurfacing feelings and maybe like crushing on you again, that they're not noticing that maybe this connection is mutual, maybe you also feel this way, maybe you are also experiencing the same emotions.

I think this pile is mine, because tell me why am I channeling the messages that is resonating so much, okay. With the presence of three of swords here, I'm seeing this situation was likely painful for them at first. Maybe when they first liked you, when they first had feelings for you, before this reunion, it was strong & intense. I feel they were really hurt by something.

Maybe they had communicated about it for some of you.

I'm getting right now they are in a place that they are probably thinking about the pain as well, what they had experienced. They are in their mind thinking about how the situation could also go wrong, you know, like if they were to take a step towards you, if they want to, if they are considering that, then it might turn into something really heartbroken for them. And there is potential of despair for them. Regardless, with the communication energy here, they might be thinking about approaching you. There is a lot of thinking here. They're considering their emotions, they're considering their pain, they're considering the potential pain that possibly come if they try to rekindle something or if they try to initiate something. That's what I'm getting.

Another scenario I am getting is maybe they are in a relationship or situation that is no longer serving them. Maybe an ex, maybe a complicated relationship, family, anything that they are struggling with. Maybe they are in a process of letting go. Trying to heal and self reflect. It could be related to you, but it could be related to something else as well. I was going to stop the reading here, but I ended up pulling few more cards to understand what is going on. And those cards did not want to come out, so I feel like they are in a very guarded energy. So let's see what is trying to come now.I am getting that they are thinking about some kind of new beginning with you. They are feeling it, that they are feeling some kind of spark when it comes to you.

And I always associate this card with Universe giving you an opportunity, a new beginning. So I feel that this is fated to an extent for some of you. I feel Universe has some play in it, you know. Season is changing. And I feel this specific connection is probably there for both of you to step up into your better self.

I am getting that maybe some of you are not paying attention to yourself and rotting in bed and just neglecting yourself or your health or general aspects of life. And maybe this connection, oh wait, I'm probably channeling this person's energy as well. So take it however it resonates. For some of you, your crush is likely not doing well. Not paying too much attention to them. Having a bit of a glow down. And maybe this is Universe's way of, you know, pushing them to have their game up, to pay attention to themselves, trying to impress you so that, you know, this connection grows into something more. That's what I'm getting. This is definitely some kind of divine intervention. And the reason I feel this way again is because even I was feeling this way. I'm like, I was very much in my single era, not caring, you know it's been so many months since I last went on a date or had feelings for someone. So I was such in a chill space and suddenly I ran into this person and we had a little K-drama moment and I'm just like, bro, I'm not even feeling my best right now. And suddenly I feel like that Demi Lovato song: But you ... make me wanna act like a girl. Paint my nails and wear high heels. I don't remember, I think Heart Attack is the song's name, so it might be relevant to some of you.

But I feel right now is a moment that it's kind of a shift in your crush's personality, maybe for you as well, where both of you are urged to take care of yourself and be best. And yeah, be attractive, bro, you're attractive. Step into that energy. I'm also getting that one or both of you are not in a place to be in a relationship or start any kind of situation. I saw a meme early in the morning that when I'm enjoying my single era and suddenly I start liking someone. Bro, what the fuck? I don't want to like you. Something like that. And I feel maybe it's one of those energies. One or both of you are feeling that it's a very unrequited situation. That person may think that you don't like them. They also look at your situation with a very watery energy. Maybe they are a water sign, pisces specifically. I feel it's very pure, but at the same time kind of unrealistic. You guys might be similar, you know.

For some of you, you both might have similar traits, similar feelings I'm getting, because this person kind of looks at you in a way that, also maybe you're like smaller than this person and they like that thing about you. I'm seeing this person with a soft smile looking at you and they feel like you are this one true love. But one true love is like a very intense emotion, right? And since this card was in a reverse, I feel they do have this one true love feelings for you but keep it hidden. I also feel for some of you, this is a very back and forth energy, may have been happening for years on end, maybe 10 years, maybe 5 years, take how it resonates, but I feel after all this time, this person looks at you in a very like a soft way. And, matter fact, the Ed Sheeran is also coming through. Like, we were just kids when we fell in love, not knowing what it was. Like, maybe this person likes you, or liked you, without knowing why. You know, it's just like how magnets are? They are just drawn towards each other. And I'm not getting opposite energy, I'm getting very similar vibes from both of you. You guys are likely similar to each other, but the way they look at you is very original, you know?

For example, you know how Ariana Grande has so many clones? So, I feel like they look at you as this OG thing, and kind of morphing into you. Like, there is similarity between you both, but at the same time, they are kind of taking on your traits without realising or deliberately for some of you. #1 fan award goes to 🫠🫶

However, irrespective of these feelings, it's very internal.

They're not doing anything about it. They want to. I can feel it. But at the same time, they're not able to understand why they are so drawn to you.I'm also feeling that they might not be in a best emotional state. They might have mood swings. Yeah, a little emotional regulation is out of place here. I also feel like they look at you in a very high light, bro. Like you are this star person (as I mentioned already) and when it comes to you their emotions just runs high and they can't stop thinking. Like they just feel a lot when it comes to you. You quite literally are a celebrity in their eyes maybe. Yeah, and I feel there is some kind of past connection or some kind of forbiddenness to you. Like there is just yearning and yearning and yearning but nothing keeps happening. Nothing happens here.

I'm also sensing they see hope with you oh my god another song is coming through i don't know if you guys know clinton kane but there is a song called i think I'm in love and this specific line i heard "but with you i see hope again" ... i feel they feel that about you oh my gosh this is such a beautiful energy i'm dying. I'm also sensing that they are probably in a healing phase right now. They are experiencing a sense of composure, calmness. Maybe with the Fool card in reverse earlier, I feel they are coming out of it. They're recognizing their traits that are not really serving them. Again, there was some other card that spoke about the same thing. They're realizing the things that cause them pain, things about the relationship that is not good for them. And they're coming like, wow, maybe this is my wish fulfillment.

Maybe this is the reward for all the work I have done so far.They have this internal knowing about you. You know, they just feel drawn to you and they just feel this kind of connection, spiritual even, with you. Deep down they just feel very hopeful with you. And they feel like maybe there is a chance this time. "And darling, this is more than anything I've felt before you're everything." You should listen to that Clinton Kane's song, it's very beautiful. It kind of ties to Perfect by Ed Sheeran also. Similar message I'm getting actually.Yeah, I also feel that they feels nervous around you, but kind of playing it cool at the same time.Your crush likely feels that you're very mysterious. They look at you as their other half. You know, they just feel like you guys fit. They just feel like you guys are... kind of meant to be. In some way or another. They just have this deep feeling about it. Even if it does not work... or it's not working out... or it did not work out. I'm seeing this fruit, pomegranate. I don't know what it means. But I guess it means sweet. It means very... Fruity.

I'm not getting sexual vibes necessarily. But it might resonate with some of you so feel free to take it. They also intuitively feel that there is more you than what's visible. They definitely see you as very spiritual. Very wise. Very intellectual. So at this moment, they are just like waiting and trying to figure out what to do about this situation. They might make subtle moves without making it too obvious. They might create opportunities for you two to run into each other. I feel like there would be subtle moves from this person. Maybe they would message you. Or maybe they would say something on their Instagram, if you guys are connected on social media. There would be some kind of subtle way of showing their feelings.

With this moon energy, they also think that you're very secretive, like they don't understand what you feel, what you think. However, when it comes to intuition, they most certainly pick up some cues about you. I don't know, Vernon from 17 pop up into my mind, so maybe your person's personality is like him. They could be very logical, very practical, I know Vernon is T, so maybe your, crush has very logical, practical side to them. Now, I'm also seeing that this person thinks that you have been through some things. They can look at you somewhere they feel like you have experienced things that have really blindsided you, that really cut you in pieces that you don't talk about, that have had you distancing yourself from people, possibly not taking care of yourself.

Maybe they feel that you are trapped in some way. If that does not resonate, then I feel it's just, there is some kind of trapped, unsure, uncertain energy here that this person feels. Maybe they are going through something in their life that makes them feel this way, but since we are doing a reading in context to how they feel about you, I feel maybe they look at you in this way, to an extent. In respect of these feelings, I feel they crave some kind of security in relationship. So, if you guys want to come together, they might experience some possessiveness, a sense of wanting control over what you are doing, what you are feeling. So, there is a warning here. Another thing I am getting is, I have heard this thing also. You should not date people who has a history of liking you.

For example, if someone has liked you for a while, when you start dating them, they are actually dating you with this image of you in their mind that they like. So, when you don't play the part as how they have imagined you, they might not like it. They might not know how to deal with it. I don't know if this makes sense, but I do feel it's important to date people who like you for who you are and not what they think you are. I feel right now their foundation of how they perceive you is very... past Sense. It keeps giving very this thing did not work out way, lost opportunity, reluctance to getting into something, not mutual, etc. You know it's very one-sided energy and that makes them try to control the narrative in a way. If this is not about control then maybe they think that you're focused on your work, your materialism, your structure. However that resonates with you.

So that's it for your pile. I hope you liked it. Comment down below if it resonated. Your comments really help.

Pile Two

Your crush sees you as someone with a tough exterior. I know the man is holding a globe but it looked like a coconut to me. Maybe at one point you were his whole world too and now you're just ... you. Someone they used to know. Someone they still still hold a space for deep inside them. I also thought of "you used to have a face like a magazine, now you look like anyone" ~ change of heart by 1975

There’s something about you that feels heavy. Maybe you’ve been through a lot? Maybe they know parts of your past, or maybe it’s just the vibe you carry... but regardless, it makes them stop and think if they’re even ready to walk this path with you. (As I am channeling this message I keep thing about my ex love. The person I was hopelessly in love with & experienced immense pain with. So I do feel, this could be twin flame connection too)

For some, you both could’ve had an ending already & currently not on speaking terms. However, even if it wasn’t something between you two directly, there’s this “dark night of the soul” kind of energy hanging in the air. And if I am being honest, they don’t feel super elated when it comes to you. And it’s not because you aren’t special, it’s just... heavy. They might look at you as someone who struggles with self-worth. Like you’ve been feeling lost lately, unsure what direction to go in. And maybe, in that haze, you did something impulsive and that’s part of why things are the way they are now. If not you, then them. They might be in that confused space themselves. Not knowing how to come forward. Not knowing if they even can.

Before I even pulled the cards, I felt freaky energy around this pile. So for some of you, this was a physical thing. A very hot, very strong attraction that fizzled or never fully bloomed. Could be karmic. Could be one of those soulmates who come in just to mess everything up so you learn how to choose yourself. And the crazy part? They might feel that way too. Like you’re here to trigger something in them. That’s why this connection feels so mirrored.

Right now, from where their feelings are for you, everything’s stagnant. And they kind of want to keep it that way. Not because they don’t care, but because they’re not ready to open up emotionally. They do look at you as someone who challenges the norm. Maybe you did something that shocked them. Maybe you stood up for something. Maybe you’re queer. Maybe you live in a way that’s loud and honest and unapologetic. Whatever it is, it made them stop and look. Lowkey, they’re impressed.

Even if they act like they’re not.

You’ve got that “I do what I want, my life my rules, you only live once” kind of vibe and it fascinate(d) them. You might’ve even torn their mask off, seen parts of them that no one else gets to see. I don’t think they were ready for that. Also, since the start of this pile, there’s been this hip-thrusting melody stuck in my head. And I’ve been trying so hard to remember the lyrics but all I see is blurry dance moves with guy. So I feel like... this was very sexual for them. Especially in the beginning. And they’ve tried to suppress it. Maybe it was an entanglement, a one-time thing. But it wasn’t forgettable. It meant something. Even if they pretended it didn’t.

For some of you, this person might’ve been a player. But you? You didn’t feel like just another body. You cracked them open. You shook something loose. You made them rethink things. Cowboy Like Me by Taylor Swift could be relevant here. Pile 2... I don’t know. The energy in this reading felt short. Rushed. Like your person didn’t want to sit in these emotions. Like they wanted to get it over with.

So, I'll end your reading now. Let me know in the comments if it resonated. See you in the next one.

Edit: Okay, so I had completed your reading this evening but woke up in the middle of the night with a jolt of panic. I saw someone. & immediately I started thinking about your pile throughout the time I was half awake. I feel your person is still haunted by your memory. In the waking life, they got nothing much to say but subconsciously they are kinda scared of you & possibly what they feel for you. I can hear hanbin's verse from into the i-land. Another song that's coming through is parents by yungblud. This genuinely giving LGBT connection for some of you. When I turned on my phone to channel this message, I had to put my device on dnd cause they were too many messages. So I do feel they don't like facing the downloads that they get about you. I won't be surprise if you even appear in their dreams cause I was dreaming when I woke up. I don't remember anything about it tho. This is actually a theme of your reading... not remembering shit. Whatever went down between you two, your crush really got you buried deeper in their subconscious & hate reminiscing about you in physical world.

Edit 2: Okay. I finally found the forgotten song. The line that has been stuck in my mind was "pool full of liquor & you're dive in it" ... & as I had got the energy from this reading, this song is about get drunk , smashing, and if I'm being honest I thought of peak Justin Bieber. Whoever your crush is, on surface they are living their life, hitting clubs, meeting important people, smashing it... but lowkey I'm getting a violating energy. Maybe to an extent it's happening consensually & in fun way but there is a dark twist to it as well. Maybe they are spiraling and indulging into anything and everything that would keep them floating on surface. It could be your energy as well, so please take how it resonates. (Song: po up drank Lloyd)

You may resonate with the original track as well:

I double checked into the i-land and the verse I heard was "chingu ya nanun da" & turns out Hanbin's line was actually "you're another me, I'm another you" & that really confirms the mirroring energy of this reading so far. There's also repeating message of "let's run for our life" & honestly, I am genuinely concerned about you my pile two.

Idk if it's relevant to you but when I went back to sleep again, I woke up with a dream again.

Me and this specific person were at a closed room gathering where the organisers were sharing some knowledge, felt like they were teaching some practice. The person I was familiar with had some injury and had to walk with those support sticks. Now, long story short, the organisers that beating the people there ... me, this person & few more were not touched cause we didn't disobey them, but remaining folks got beaten to a point, one of them peed their pants and almost fainted. They asked us to leave, so I left thinking this person would follow me. I forgot about his injury and waited downstairs. After 5-7 mins I went back up to check why he is not coming and then I properly saw he is not able to walk, his leg is injured. Now, the bad guy came out of nowhere and asked us, why are you still here so started making excuses but something shifts as he starts behaving creepy with me. Now, suddenly I have no memory of the injured guy. All I thought in this moment, we have to escape, but he cannot run, but again, the guy is not really near me. Escaping felt next to impossible because the area is their and we can get found in snap of the fingers. So, I was just thinking of the plan. Again blur after that, and suddenly I am on road, with creepy people in car where I thought I'll get help. I passed it and sought help somewhere.

End of the dream.

I am getting very sticky, very dark energy from this pile. I tried to provide as much information I could. Maybe the dream will resonate with some of you. Please take care 🤍 Let me know, if it resonated. I'll possibly to another reading for your specific pile to gain more information if you want.

Pile Three

Right of the bat, I feel your person admires your strength. Do you have anger issues by any chance??? Maybe your crush has been this soft/ nurturing presence in your life who has seen you crashing. Lashing out. And gently hold you through the episode. You have very fiery energy to you (could be a leo) & your person is either a water sign or taurus/ libra placements. Very gentle & intuitive energy I am getting from your person. They do have mother like feelings for you. Naturally protective. They may have witness you having some kinda transformation & maybe you're in a process of breaking some cycle. Maybe a loop that you cannot / couldn't seem to get out of. They look at you with someone who has too much going on. Too many people tugging at your energy. Maybe you're fighting with multiple people all at once. You could be in a bad unfulfilling situation that this person is able to see.

The energy I am getting is "Fighting in only your army. Frontlines, don't you ignore me. I'm the best thing at this part. (You're losin' me by Taylor)" ...I really feel you're experiencing a fall put of a relationship. Could be platonic, could be career wise. Something that got you crumbling and this person has very outsider energy as they are witnessing it. It also giving "And you passed right by I was in the alley, surrounded on all sides" ~ long story short Taylor Swift

& strangely enough the line before this was "Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep" & it's 2.45 am as I doing this reading. I had woken up scared. So maybe for some of you, pile two would resonate with as well. They also see you as someone who super grounded & stable as far as your finances are concerned. But somehow the image on the card is giving lonely energy. So, I don't think they can see through how despite the composure, despite someone who comes across with immense self trust, rooted in practicality & knows how make / sustain abundance ... you are deep down defeated. Like you literally won a battle but at what cost??? It's reminding me of that Taylor's speech where she won too many awards during 1989 era yet at the end of the day she had no one to share that happiness with. On paper you have everything, but you still feel hollow. You are likely burned out too.

Your person can see you as someone who is facing challenges but refusing to learn from the past patterns. You're too stubborn right now. Maybe what you have experienced has made you skeptical of things and you no longer want to rely on anyone. Maybe you lost people, maybe someone closer to you unalive themself too. I see that you have this alternate scenario in your mind where you often think about this person where there is no pain. No pushbacks. Just laughter. Maybe you have experienced people who would enter and leave your life as they please and it got your heart blocked. You no longer want to love anyone. It's giving eight by iu ft suga. Your person wants you to come out of that energy and focus on what's still here. Maybe them? They want you to assess the way you're living life. You seek help (cause they want to help you). They want you to celebrate small moments of victories. And push through the challenges. You're one survivor pile 3. I am so proud of you. Your person can definitely see that your burden by your past that you're letting go of the toxic mindset.

For some of you, you could be traveling to take a break as well. You may have a lot on your mind, & this person wants nothing more than to unload your burden. They want to tend to your injured adult self and pamper your inner child. They want to take you away from all this pain, just like the man on the boat taking the woman & child away. Maybe it's a long journey. But your person wants you to drop the sword now. They want you to stop fighting all alone on battlefield. They are here now. Let them take care of things. They are manifesting a new beginning with you. They want you to stop hesitating & embrace what you have right now. Live in the moment with them, will you? Angel baby is significant here as well ... except you're Troye Siwan.

Having said that, they are acknowledging that you're not in the best emotional situation right now. Your inner world is a mess and you're liking crashing big time, no wonder we started the pile with the same energy. They really want you to work on your emotional regulation. How can they help you if you don't wanna help yourself? So please step up into your authenticity & approach your situation with discernment. If you've been jumping to conclusions without any facts, then please change that. So that's it for your reading my pile three. If this pac resonated with you, please let me know in the comments below.

I am sending you so much love 💞💫 See you.

#pick a pile #pick a picture #pick a photo #pick a card #tarot blog #tarot reading #kpop tarot #intuitive readings #intuitive tarot reader #intuitive messages #message for the collective #tarotblr

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babybl00s · 21 hours ago

Text

collide like two stars

warnings: smut (p-in-v, vaginal fingering, oral f!receiving), LOTS OF KISSING yippeee, bob is so down bad, he's also a munch, no condom *gasp*, cumming inside, i guess some dirty talk idk, mdni 18+, explicit language etc.

summary: part two to all i need

author's note: back by popular demand. thanks for the likes/reblogs/follows. didn't think this would get that much attention but i'm glad y'all liked part 1!! this is a beast of its own

ps: this is not beta read. if u notice any typos ignore them cause i will cry

Alpine’s judging, unblinking stare does nothing for your nerves when you walk through the doors of your apartment. Her tail flicking softly, as if she was waiting up for you and wasn’t happy about it. Ladybug notices you from her crate, wagging her tail, but doesn’t get up to greet you; she takes bed time seriously.

Your mind is racing as you toe off your heels, haphazardly tossing them onto the shoe rack by your door. Scurry down the hall to your room and dig through your dressers to find a change of clothes. The cold tile of the bathroom soothes your sore feet as you place the clothes on the counter, tearing off your uniform and ruined underwear and tossing them into the hamper. You don’t bother to let the shower warm up, stepping in with a hiss as ice-cold shards of water pelt your skin.

You’d just…let Bob Reynolds rut himself against you. In the Watchtower. On their fucking couch. And Mel - fuck, Mel walked in after, probably traumatized for life even though she really didn’t see anything but you two scrambling to look normal. Which was a total giveaway. You make a mental note to buy her lunch for, like, the next week or two.

The ghost of his bruising grip on your hips and thighs still lingers. His hot, wet tongue in your mouth. On your neck. The way he whimpered in your ear -

You turn the dial on the wall to make your shower just the slightest bit colder. You bite back a shriek as the freezing cold water rains down on you. You need to stop; you can’t get horny over him again. You grab your body wash and douse it on your body scrubber, lathering it up on your arms and chest.

His cock, warm and big and thick, grinding against your pussy; his sweatpants creating a delicious friction against the thin layer of your underwear. The way the head of his cock caught against your clit, making you see stars. You wonder how he’d feel inside you -

You lean your head against the tiled wall, the action making a soft thud echo. God. You want him so bad you could cry. And it wasn’t even the fact that he made you cum from a little bit of grinding - it was everything. The way he kissed you; electrifying, leaving you breathless and wanting more (which he was very happy to give). How he held you, tender and loving, while whispering sweet nothings to you.

And then you’d left him, on that couch. Face flushed and eyes hopeful. The smile sliding off his face made you want to die.

This is uncharted territory. You don’t know how to…do this. Hadn’t meant for this to happen, but…you don’t regret it. For the most part. Doing it in a shared space was probably the worst idea you had but, you know. Kind of hard to think straight when a hot guy is on top of you telling you how much he’s been wanting you.

You shake your head and lather up the rest of your body. You’re able to finish the rest of your shower with little to no intrusive thoughts, and dry yourself off with a towel before throwing on your pajamas for the night.

Alpine is curled up tightly in the center of your bed when you walk out, Ladybug equally curled up but on the bed you have for her on the floor of your bedroom. She probably felt left out when Alpine came into your room, you muse. You let out a sigh as you fall into the space next to Alpine, tucking yourself tightly against her warm little body.

You can’t shake the feeling that you’ve opened a door you can’t close. What does it mean for you and Bob? Your thoughts spiral, and you bring up a finger to chew on the skin around your nail. Do you tell him how you feel? You don’t even have his number, and asking Bucky would open a whole nother can of worms.

Maybe…you could visit him again? Talk to him then. Bucky still hasn’t messaged you so you’re assuming this mission will take more than one night. And with the rest of the team gone with him…

Okay, you think, you’ll…talk to him tomorrow. After work. Somehow.

Bucky still isn’t in when you go into work, which is great for you. Means he’ll probably be out for another day or two, which is more than enough time for you to gather your thoughts. Maybe even buy some lunch.

Ah, that reminds you: you have to buy Mel lunch today. And tomorrow. And maybe for the foreseeable future. You’re, like, 99% sure she won’t say anything. Assistants having to stick together and all that. But you feel bad, so…

You float around the office all day, talking to the other assistants and helping them assign caseloads to the interns. Writing up emails, going over some of Bucky’s drafts of new bills. Yesterday’s work had taken a huge load off of everyone’s plate, which was great for them, but not so great for you. Because all you’re thinking about is Bob’s lips and his tongue and his hands - his strong, calloused hands - and -

A bag of food is dropped onto your desk, making you jump almost fifty feet in the air.

It’s Bucky. Bringing you takeout. Here, in front of you. Not…on a mission.

Huh, This puts a huge wrench in your plans.

He has a guilty look on his face. “I know I promised not to leave Alpine on you like last time, but something came up. Just got back today. Would’ve texted ya sooner but my phone kinda went in the shitter. I’m…sorry.” He finishes lamely. He clears his throat and gestures to the food he bought. “For you. Your favorite.”

You sit there, wide-eyed, completely caught off guard. You give a terse nod. “Thanks.” You turn back to your computer and continue drafting up the email you were about to send.

He shifts his weight, nervous. Like he’s afraid to poke the bear. He blinks, trying to choose his words carefully. “You’re not…um, mad…?”

“No. It happens.”

The clack of your keyboard fills the silence. Bucky’s still rooted in his spot. He clears his throat again. “Right. I’m - I gotta run. Get a new phone. I’ll come by later to pick up Al.”

“Cool.”

He lingers for just a second, then scurries away as if you’ve threatened to bite his head off. Once he rounds the corner your head drops to the desk with a loud thud.

Fuck. This was not a part of the plan; hell, that was your only plan. Bad idea on your part, admittedly. The smell of the food wafts towards you. Well, at least you didn’t have to pay for your own lunch.

During your lunch break, you’d tried to brainstorm a new plan that’d let you see Bob again; ones that didn’t involve you going to the Tower for no reason (i.e., without using Bucky as an excuse), but no dice. Bucky usually hung out in his Brooklyn apartment after missions, and unless another one randomly happened to come up, he wouldn’t be hanging about the Tower until next week.

Besides, there was always someone there. You know the team well enough through Bucky, but not so much that you could just waltz in and act like you belonged there.

Eventually, people start trickling out of the office one-by-one, until you’re the only one left. You tap your fingers on your wooden desk, lost in thought. Whatever, you’ll figure it out soon enough. You power off your computer and grab your things, heading out to the bus station.

Luckily, it seems your apartment building actually gives a shit about its occupants for once, because when you walk in the elevator is no longer out of service. You’re kind of scared when you enter but you’d honestly rather die than walk up three flights of stairs right now. It makes some concerning noises on the way up, but you’re still in one piece so you’ll take that as a win.

Alpine and Ladybug are lounging about the couch when you walk through the door. Lady hops off to greet you, while Alpine merely blinks at you. You give Lady a couple of kisses and she follows you into your room and waits patiently while you shower. She follows you again after you’ve changed into an oversized shirt and a pair of flannel bottoms.

You sit down on the couch, kicking up your feet as you let an episode of Breaking Bad play. You’re not really paying attention, bouncing your leg anxiously as you wait for Bucky to show. The anticipation knots up your stomach; you knew Bucky was coming to pick her up, but you didn't expect to feel this anxious about it. Part of you thinks that he knows what you did and who you did it with - where you did it. Maybe he’s known all along and is coming to fire you in person. That probably wouldn’t be legal but you’re too stressed to think clearly.

You take a glance at the clock for what feels like the hundredth time, the soft ticking echoing through your apartment. Your mind starts to drift back to yesterday. To Bob.

You’d always thought he was cute - who wouldn’t? He’d always made an effort to talk to you, which you couldn’t really say for the rest of the team. At least, not the way he did. Always so attentive, listening as though you’d been saying something profound, when all you did was bring up how Ladybug had learned how to balance a treat on her nose.

How thoughtful he was, bringing food and coffee for Bucky cause he knows the guy goes days without eating, nights without sleeping. Brings you your favorites, which you realize you had mentioned once, almost a year ago. Yet he remembered.

The way he held you at the Gala, one hand on your waist and the other in your hand. As if you were porcelain, and he was scared to break you.

Yesterday, when he caressed your face and asked - asked - to kiss you, and did so sweetly. Even in the midst of passion, he kissed you softly. He’s not the kind of guy to just do that on a whim, you know that much. And if you could just talk to him -

Your doorbell buzzes, snapping you out of your thoughts. Must be Bucky. You tiptoe over to the door, looking through the peephole to confirm and, yup, it’s him alright. You take a quick breath to steady yourself and swing the door open.

Bucky stands there, with a box of pizza. Except - he’s not wearing that guilty look on his face. He looks proud. Mischievous.

“Pizza.” He simply announces, stepping by you to enter your apartment. Your breath catches for a split second as he passes, a figure that you hadn’t seen through the peephole making himself known. Your eyes meet his.

Bob.

He’s wearing another oversized sweatshirt (green this time; the color suits him), wavy hair slightly tousled, hands wringing together, him shuffling on his feet like he isn’t sure he should be here, but is anyway. His lips turn up at you nervously, and for a moment, you feel your cheeks heat up.

“Hey,” he breathes.

“Hi,” you return, your voice a bit higher than normal.

Bucky watches from the living room as you lovesick idiots stare at each other, unimpressed. Seriously, after all the work he did to get you two alone together, all you can say is hi? Risking his life by leaving Al at your door when you’d almost ripped his damn head off the last time…

He sighs. At least he’s got you two alone again, he muses. He places the pizza box on your kitchen counter, picks up Alpine and tucks her in her carrier, giving an extra bit of attention to your dog on his way out.

“So, uh, thanks for keeping an eye on Alpine,” Bucky says, stepping between the two of you to get to the hallway.

“No problem,” you manage to say, your focus shifting between him and Bob (who hasn’t kept his eyes off you). “Anytime.”

A knowing smirk grows on Bucky’s face, and he turns the other way to head back down to his car. “You two have fun!” He calls out.

Ladybug uses this as her chance to try to bolt out the door, but you’re able to grab her before she’s successful. You shoo her back inside and look back at Bob, who still has his warm gaze directed at you. A flutter of butterflies develops in your stomach. You hold your breath, unsure of what to say next; this definitely was not a part of the plan. But it was a part of Bucky’s, apparently.

You step aside to let him in. “Did you wanna…” You nod towards your apartment. Bob lingers for a moment, but enters, standing at your side as you close the door.

Bob’s smile widens as Ladybug approaches. He kneels to the ground and pets her softly; she throws herself to the ground and rolls on her side, demanding belly rubs.

“She likes you,” you comment, a little taken aback. Ladybug isn’t the best with men, took months for her to warm up to Bucky. But with Bob, she’s…well she’s rolling around begging for his attention. You’re almost jealous.

“I like her, too,” he mutters, turning his head towards you, but you’re not so sure it’s Lady he’s referring to. You don’t want to overthink it.

You need a second to breathe. “Shoes off,” you instruct over your shoulder, marching over to the kitchen, “do you want anything to drink?”

“Water’s fine,” he replies, toeing off his sneakers. He pads over to your couch and takes a seat, Ladybug trailing after him. When you return, he takes it from your hands, fingers grazing over yours in a manner that doesn’t necessarily seem accidental.

You take a seat next to him, propping your legs on the couch to keep him at a respectable distance. He takes a sip of his water then places it on one of the coasters on your coffee table.

Ladybug scampers away to her crate, bored of the lack of attention. You fiddle with your fingers as you work up the courage to say something to him.

“I wanted to -”

“Your place is -”

You both stop and chuckle. His face and ears lightly dusted with pink, yours heating up as well.

You poke his bicep playfully. “You first,” you urge softly.

His eyes flicker over you. “Your place is nice. Cozy. I’m sorry if - if I’m intruding. I know you weren’t…expecting me, but Bucky insisted I come with,” he pauses. “I…wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me again,” he finishes quietly, his gaze trailing to the floor.

“I did,” you blurt out, “want to see you again. I was going to. Today, but then Bucky showed up and…you know.” He doesn’t look up from the floor. “I…” you sigh. “I shouldn’t have left like that. I’m sorry, I just - I panicked. But it wasn’t because of you.”

“We shouldn’t have - no, fuck I don’t mean it like that,” he panics, correcting himself when he sees you raise an eyebrow at him. “I should’ve…I don't know, been more…respectful of you. Take you - fuck, I mean - be with you, somewhere more private.”

“You wanted to make an honest woman out of me, Bob?” you tease, delighted by the embarrassed groan he lets out. “I’m flattered.”

He takes a moment to formulate a response. “I wanted it to be good for you.” He mumbles.

Oh. You don’t really know what to say to that, at first. Honestly you’re not used to a guy being so open and honest with you. Willingly having this conversation with you, listening to (listening, not just hearing) what you have to say. Obviously the bar is low, but this is nice. He’s definitely a little embarrassed by the conversation, evident in the way his hands come up to cup his bright red face. You poke his thigh with your foot and giggle when peeks at you through his fingers.

You bite your lip in thought. “It was good for me,” you admit, “really good.”

The air between you feels different now, charged. The casual conversation has shifted. You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding, if he notices how nervous you are. He’s fiddling with his fingers, and you try not to stare too hard. You honestly feel a little overwhelmed, but your need to talk to him overpowers anything else.

“Did you mean what you said,” you ask, your voice faltering towards the end. You clear your throat. “About…wanting me…?”

“I meant everything I said.” He says suddenly, eyes finally meeting yours again. You blink, feeling your heart stutter in your chest. He presses on. “You - fuck, you don’t know what you do to me. I’ve been - I’ve been trying to get your attention for months. Visited Bucky all that time just so I could see you. I just - I didn’t know how to talk to you. You’re so - you’re perfect.” He’s rambling now, mouth running a mile a minute while you sit there, your face heating up. If you had known - that all this time - “And then I saw you at the Gala and - fuck, you looked so beautiful. And then we danced…” he trails off, searching your eyes for a bit of hope.

You’ve somehow found yourself a hair's breadth away from him, one leg tucked under you while the other dangles off the couch, knee bumping against him. “Bob,” you sigh, placing your hand on the side of his neck, stroking his jaw softly. He closes his eyes at the sensation.

“When I held you, that’s when I knew,” he whispers sweetly, “that I wanted this, wanted you.”

You pull him in closer, foreheads touching. “You have me,” you confess, your lips brushing against his, “I want this with you too.”

His breath hitches, then he pulls you in for a kiss, one arm behind your back, pressing your body against his while you wrap your arms around his neck. Despite the way he’s holding you - like he’s afraid to let you go - the kiss is sweet. Tender. Electric, even, but it’s hidden by the innocent passion that sends a delectable shiver down your spine. You let out a smitten giggle, wrapping your arms around him tighter when you feel him smile into it.

He caresses your back, nibbling at your bottom lip. You part them, tangling your hands in his hair when he licks into your mouth. You feel a flare of heat spark in your belly. Hold back a moan when he tilts his head to the side, deepening the kiss. Your breathing picks up, your body trembling in excitement.

Bob pulls away, and it’s you chasing after his lips this time. He plants another wet kiss on your lips before pulling away again. You lean your forehead against his, his breath intermingling with yours. He traces random patterns on your back, his other caressing your pajama-covered thigh.

“You’re really good at that,” you chuckle, still trying to catch your breath.

(A sense of pride swells within him. Unbeknownst to you, he’s read up on this; stole one of Yelena’s trashy magazines, one with a spread called ‘How to be an Expert Kisser’ followed by another labeled ‘For Her Pleasure’. He’s a quick learner. Has a couple other tricks up his sleeve.)

He pulls you onto his lap with ease. You settle on him, tracing your finger down his chest. Biting back a smile when you feel something hard straining under you. You’re no better, you already feel the cold fabric of your underwear sticking to your skin.

Bob grabs your hips in a tight grip, rocking your hips against his. You gasp, grabbing onto his shoulders for balance. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you since last night,” he pants, eyes screwed shut in pleasure, “could still feel you against me, even after you left. Made me hard all over again.” He drags your hips from the base of his cock all the way to the tip, your clit catching at the seam of his pants, making you let out a pathetic whine.

“You’re so big,” you pant. “I could still feel you, too.” He groans, bringing you into another kiss that’s all tongue. His large hands trail up under your shirt, meeting the soft skin underneath. He brings them up slowly, his fingers teasing the swell of your tits.

“Wait,” he pulls away immediately, hands flying back down to your hips. “We can’t - not here,” you gesture towards Ladybug, who’s fast asleep in her crate and unaware of the debauchery her mom is engaging in 30 feet away. “Not in front of her, she’ll be traumatized for the rest of her life.” You pout. He laughs. A real, genuine, laugh that comes from his belly.

“You’re ridiculous.” He laughs, blinding you with a bright smile. You scrunch your nose at him and he gives you another short kiss.

You squeal into his mouth as he stands, picking you up effortlessly from the couch with him. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, legs tight around his waist. You point towards the door to your bedroom and he makes way, his hands under thighs to support you.

He closes the door on his way in, and places you on your bed so you’re lying comfortably on your pillows. He settles in between your hips. The soft glow of your fairy lights casting a halo around his body. Your nerves are starting to get the best of you, and as though he senses that, he places a series of soft, loving kisses all over your face. It makes you laugh, which puts a smile on his face as well.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “I’m just nervous. But I want this. I want you.”

He pulls up your shirt a bit, goosebumps rising along the skin of your stomach from the slight chill of your room. “Can I…can I take this off?”

“Yeah.”

He lifts it up slowly, mesmerized by the sight of your tits in his face. You’ve barely gotten the shirt off and over your head before he latches onto one of your nipples, his tongue lathering the stiff bud with attention while his free hand reaches up to tweak the other between his thumb and forefinger. It makes you squeal, your own hand coming up to support the back of his head. He’s so eager it’s making your head spin.

You squirm, dragging your nails down his back. He groans, switching his attention to your other tit, licking and sucking at it with the same amount of love he gave the other one. You let out a long, embarrassing moan when he switches hands to tweak your spit-covered nipple. You’re so wet by now you’re sure it’s leaking through your pajamas.

He lets go of your tit with a pop. Buries his head against your shoulder, pants against the skin. “Can I taste you?” He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Please?” he begs.

“Mm-hmm.” You whimper, because the thought alone has fried your brain beyond comprehension.

His fingers hook onto the band of your pajamas, sliding them down your legs slowly. He peppers kisses down your stomach, your hips, lingers at the band of your underwear. He pulls the pants off your legs, tossing them off the bed without a care in the world.

“Bob,” he gives you his full attention. You bite down on your bottom lip nervously. “Can you…can you take off your pants too? And…and your shirt?” You feel a little self conscious, being the only one who’s practically naked. It’s only fair.

He nods. “Yeah. Yeah - I can.”

He climbs off the bed, unbuckling his belt with trembling fingers. It warms your heart that he’s just as nervous as you, makes you feel better. You scoot to the edge of the bed and cover his hands with your own, and he looks at you with wide eyes. You gently pry his hands away and take matters into your own hands, slowly unbuckling his belt with ease, unbuttoning his pants and pulling down the zipper. He waits with a bated breath, his pupils blown out.

You pull down his pants. Once they reach his thighs, he tugs them off, cursing when trips over himself a little. The sight makes you giggle, and he gives you a dopey smile. He’s standing between your legs again. You tug on his sweatshirt, but he hesitates.

“You don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s just - I have…scars, from when I was on…um,” you take his hand and give it a small kiss.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, “I won’t judge, if that’s what you’re worried about. And if you don’t want to take it off, that's okay, too. It’s not a big deal.”

He takes a deep breath, then tugs it off in one fell swoop. He’s - he’s…

Wow. He’s…muscular. Definitely a sleeper build. You ogle at the veins that run along the muscle of his forearms, his well-defined abs, the trail of hair that starts right under his navel and leads down to his cock, hard and straining against his briefs. At eye level. A wet spot where the head of his cock is. Your mouth waters. You plant your lips innocently against the tuft of fur and he tenses, his cock twitching in excitement.

“Lay back down,” he orders, which you happily follow.

He kneels on the floor, pulling you closer so your ass is just off the edge of the bed. He starts at your calf, starting a trail of kisses that travels up to your knee, your thigh. Ends at the hem of your underwear, right where you want him. You almost cry when he repeats his actions on the other leg.

Your face heats up, so you throw an arm over your eyes. “Bob,” you whine.

He gets the message. He pulls the article of clothing off your hips, places his thumbs on either side of your pussy and spreads you open. You gulp; you feel so exposed.

“F-Fuck,” you gasp. He’s licked a long, hard stripe up to your clit. Moans at the taste on his tongue, passes his tongue again to collect the wetness that’s leaking. He takes your swollen clit into his mouth, sucksucksucking to the point where your hips lift up off the bed. He hooks an arm under your thigh, over your hips, to hold you down.

Bob groans, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body. You write helplessly, your free hand reaching down to pull his hair into a vice grip. He flicks his tongue across your clit, panting against you when you tug his hair.

“So fucking good,” he sticks his tongue into your pussy, lapping up your arousal like his life depends on it. His nose rubbing against your clit. You whimper, panting harshly as he lavishes your pussy with attention. You push yourself up the bed, throwing your legs over his broad shoulders, pulling him in closer. You take advantage of this angle to look down at him.

He’s absolutely wrecked, face flushed but with a content look on his face, like he’s died and gone to heaven. He’s so messy - his spit and your arousal mixing together, leaving a sticky layer on your thighs, his face. Your eyes droop shut, overtaken by pleasure. He can stay there for as long as he wants, as far as you’re concerned.

You don’t notice his fingers until one of them prods lightly at your pussy. You gasp. “Can I?” he mumbles, not taking his mouth off you.

“Yes,” you beg, “yesyesyes.”

He mutters a curse under his breath, pushing his middle finger into you, licking at your clit to help you relax. You sigh at the feeling, brushing back the curls from his face. He pumps it in and out of you slowly, testing at first. Sinks it deep, curling his finger up on the way out. A whine gets stuck in his throat when you clamp down on him. He rests his head on your thigh, watching his finger sink into you.

He’s brushing against the spot inside you that makes your toes curl, builds up the pressure in your belly. You melt, falling back against the bed and clawing at the sheets, your hand still tugging at his hair. Wordlessly, he grabs your hand off the bed and intertwines his fingers with yours, resting them on your hip. The action is so sweet it almost makes you cum.

Your skin is slick with a fine layer of sweat, your body on fire. Your thighs are trembling, shaking as he inserts his pointer finger, the stretch making you hiss and you throw your head back with a whimper.

“S-So good,” you stutter, “it feels so good, Bob.”

He’s stuck in a trance, watching your arousal pool out of you, onto his fingers, onto the palm of his hand. The lewd sight alone driving him crazy. He takes your clit back into his mouth, making you squeal. You feel it then; the pressure building up, threatening to snap. Your thighs snap together, trapping his head against you (not that he minds at all). You grind yourself against his face, his fingers never faltering.

“Oh my God,” your breath hitches, eyes screwing shut as your toes start to tingle. “Fuck, Bob, ‘m cumming -”

“Please,” he begs, “in my mouth.” His teeth graze against your clit, and you gasp. It tips you over, and a loud, vulgar moan leaves you. More of your arousal spills out of you, onto his fingers, into his eager mouth. You shudder, hands gripping onto him while your body twitches, your toes curling. The pleasure is almost blinding.

You weakly push his head away when the pleasure turns into overstimulation. He lets you, leaning back on his haunches as he slowly drags his fingers out of your pussy. Unblinking when you clench around nothing. He sticks his fingers in his mouth, moaning at the taste of you. The entire bottom half of his face is covered in your arousal, but he wears it like a badge of honor.

“Kiss me,” you plead. He pulls you up so you’re sitting, pushing his tongue past your lips and licking the roof of your mouth. His tongue pushes against yours, your fingers never relaxing on the grip you have on his hair.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says through kisses, “taste so fucking good.”

He’s so talkative, doesn’t shut up. Another wave of arousal thrums through your veins. “I want you, Bob. Please?”

He gets off the floor and lifts you back up so your head is supported by your pillows again. Kneeling between your parted legs. Bob tugs off his briefs, his cock slapping against his abdomen. It’s…big - a lot bigger than you thought. A prominent vein running along underside it. A bit of pre leaking out from the tip. Your mouth waters again, imagining how it would feel in your mouth, on your tongue. Hot and heavy probably, teasing the back of your throat.

Next time, you muse. You need him inside you now or you’ll explode.

He blushes at your attention, shy. Like he didn’t just eat you out and finger you. God, how did you get so lucky?

“I don’t,” he swallows, “I don’t have a condom. I didn’t think - I wasn’t planning on…We don’t have to, if that’s -”

“It’s okay,” you return, just as nervous. “I’m…I’m on the pill. And I’m clean. You?”

“Yeah - Yeah, me too. Clean, I mean.”

Bob grabs one of your pillows and tucks it under you, right at the small of your back. Then he lingers, hands on your knees. You’re so pliant in his hands. He leans down, lips meeting yours. It’s sweet, reassuring. You guide him so his weight is on you, your tits flush against his chest, his forearms braced on both sides of your head. You bring your knees up, a hand under one of them to keep it supported. You feel the warmth of his cock on your thigh, twitching when you curl your arm over his bicep to brace yourself.

He reaches down, hissing at the feeling of his hand on his cock. Lines himself up at your pussy, gliding his cock between your lips. A soft sob leaves your lips, which he muffles with his own. He circles the tip of his cock around your clit, slapping it once, twice. You’re shaking like a leaf, so turned on it almost hurts.

You’re about to chastise him for being mean, but then he aligns his tip at the entrance, pushing through the ring of muscle. He whimpers, breaking away from your lips to bury his head in the crook of your neck. Your fingers stroke through the ring of curls that are sticking to the back of his neck.

“So good,” is all he says, thrusting softly to ease more of himself into you. Reaches down to stroke your clit with his thumb. You’re already so wet that the rest of him slides in easily, and you shiver at the feeling of being so full. You feel him throbbing. The hair at the base of his cock tickling your clit.

He’s holding himself back. You can tell, the way his muscles are tensing. His harsh panting against your ear. You clench down once, giggling at his long, pained groan.

He nips at your shoulder in retaliation, pulling back his hips and snapping them softly against you. Your toes curl.

“You can move, Bob.”

You don’t have to tell him twice.

He starts off slow, gentle. Pelvis meeting your thighs, creating an audible, wet slap of skin that makes your face heat up even more.

“Fuck me,” he exhales, “better than I dreamed.”

He snaps his hips harder when you clench down. Your mouth falls open in a silent groan, your head thrashing against the pillow.

“Harder,” you whine, “harder.”

He places a hand under your belly button, pushing you down to keep you steady as he puts a little more force into his thrusts. He circles his hips just so, allowing him to brush along the spot inside you. Your nails dig into his bicep and your teeth bite down on his shoulder.

He drills into that spot, over and over. Your legs are starting to feel like jelly, and sweat pools under the hand that’s keeping one of them propped up. One particular thrust makes you lose your grip on your leg, but he catches it, bringing it up so your knee is resting on his shoulder. The new angle makes you moan uncontrollably, a gush of arousal pouring out of you and onto the sheets below. His pelvis brushing your clit with every thrust, the soft plap plap plap of his thighs hitting your ass fills your room.

Bob pushes himself up. He grabs the knee that’s on his shoulder and rubs it lovingly, lips teasing the skin. He looks down at your chest, your tits bouncing in rhythm to his thrusts. He bends down again to take one into his mouth, grazing his teeth along the nub.

The pressure in your belly is about to snap. You squirm in his hold, your hips chasing after his. He pulls away from your tits to spit on your clit (Jesus fuck), his thumb rubbing frantically to get you there quicker. He presses his forehead against yours, eyes flickering between your fucked out face and his cock drilling into your pussy.

“I’m,” you babble, your voice rising an octave, “I’m cumming - Bob -”

He keeps his gaze locked on you, admiring the way your lashes flutter against your cheeks, your kiss swollen lips. Your face twisting in pleasure as your orgasm rocks through you, your grip on him unforgiving. Legs tightening around his torso, refusing to let him go. Pussy squeezing and sucking him in like it never wants him to leave.

Tears gather at the corner of your eyes as your body relaxes. He kisses them away. His cock rests inside you, and he circles his hips a little to make you squirm.

“Cum in me,” you slur, biting your lip when your feet dig into his back to push him in further. “I want it.”

“Oh, fuck me,” he curses, drilling into you with that same unforgivable pace. You stroke his back, his chest, the base of his neck. Trace softly over his old, faded, scarred track marks. You’re so damn sweet. Doesn’t deserve you, but you clearly want him just as bad.

God, he’s so in love with you it hurts.

You squeak with every thrust, the overstimulation becoming too much. You reach down and cup his balls in your hand, eyes sparkling in amazement as his hips begin to stutter, his pace becoming frantic and desperate. You yank his head towards yours. His eyes begin to glow, that same yellow hue from last night. It’s mesmerizing. He’s so close, you can feel his cock twitching inside you.

“F-fuck. Fuckfuckfuck,” he stammers, letting out a deep groan as he releases his load. Warmth fills you. The lights in your room flicker, and you hear a high pitched noise coming from the lamp that’s on your nightstand. He thrusts weakly, and the noise stops when he drops his full weight onto you, completely spent.

Interesting.

Bob snuggles up on your chest, panting heavily. He rubs your waist soothingly. You brush your fingers through his wavy brown hair, working out the knots you’re sure were caused by you. He sighs softly when your nails scratch his head softly. You press your lips to the crown of his head, and you swear he purrs from the attention.

“Congrats. You’ve made an honest woman out of me.” He gives you a playful bite on the swell of your tit, making you giggle.

He hums. “And you’ve ruined me for anyone else. Guess you’re stuck with me,” he replies languidly. All the usual stress and tension he carries soothed away after a good fuck, apparently. Good to know.

He makes no move to pull out of you. He seems pretty happy where he is. You’ll definitely have to push him off sometime soon so you can go pee. But for now, this is fine.

Hm. Guess you’ll have to pay for Bucky’s lunch, too.

#bob reynolds x reader #robert reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x you #robert reynolds x you #thunderbolts x reader #sentry x reader

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