mguerreira48

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 317

IMAGINE THIS: Lil baby Damian, bored and being not quite old enough to start learning how to use proper weapons (curse these wooden ones, he wants true steel!) is wandering the base. This is not out of the ordinary, he’s the prince after all. What is out of the ordinary is that his shadow, his Akhi, is not here. 

Technically, he should be napping, but he woke up and neither his mother or his brother- who is quiet but gentle and isn’t a good speaker (mother said it was from a head injury)- is there. Which is how he finds his way to the Pit, which he’s not supposed to be at. Or at least not alone. 

But! His mother and Akhi are there! And- and Akhi is screaming and he’s never heard him scream like that, like he’s in agony- His eyes are green- they were blue, had, had Mother placed him in the Waters- 

And then the pool is bubbling- he should be running away, get assistance or something, he’s five, he shouldn’t be running towards it when everything is screaming to flee. But one moment he’s at the doorway, the next he’s clinging to his akhi as something writhes in the Pit, a mighty bellow echoing even as the Shadows take defensive positions. 

The water cascades, laps at their feet, splashes everywhere as a scaled form rises from the depths, wings like a bloodied sunset spreading as fur bursts into flames. Crimson eyes glare down at them all, pupils slits as they bare down at his Akhi. 

The creature- the dragon- dips its head down, its breath warm as it chuffs at his akhi, wings folding as though it is bowing. His akhi is clinging to Mother, shivering, several scars glowing as they fade and a burst of hair burned white. 

Oh. 

Oh.

@fairy-lights-and-blobs @f4nd0m-fun @hdgnj @radiance1 pspspspsps

[gallusrostromegalus]

I was raised agnostic and tend to remain ambiguous on theological matters.

-but my house has a porch on the second story that affords me a terrific view of my neighborhood and the Colorado Front Range and I was partaking of some peace before the 4th Of July Finger-Loss Festivities begin, and I have had a

~*Spiritual Experience*~

I just watched my neighbor try to unload an actual wooden pallet that had to have been forklifted into the back of his insecurity pickup worth of fireworks.

Except that he does not have a forklift in his garage.

He does have so much sports memorabilia and cardboard boxes of unsold MLM Merchandise and patriotically themed camping gear and posters of women in bikinis and flags of suspect political organizations in his garage that there is only BARELY enough space for the fireworks and certainly none for his truck.

So he had to unload the individual boxes of recreational explosives from the back of his truck and stack them in the minimal space he had cleared by hand. This is a tedious and time-consuming process as this neighbor has purchased a wide variety of recreational and locally illegal explosives instead of many of just a few types, so the individual boxes are rather small.

He begins, and this is crucial to what happens next, by cutting apart the industrial-grade saran wrap his explosives dealer had so carefully wrapped his merchandise in, and discarded it unsecured on his lawn.

Where Outdoor Conditions sometimes happen.

His process for unloading the fireworks is to 1. Climb up through the gate into the bed of his pickup truck (a feat made unusually difficult due to the slope of his driveway, and this man's fascinating decision to wear the world's Siffest and least Flexible Denim Overalls. 2. Once in the pickup bed, he selects ONE (1) box from the pile He is apparently from a niche religious institution that doesn't believe in stacking things. 3. Carries it awkwardly around the palette that barely fits in the truck bed 4. His wife yells "Be careful!" when he nearly falls out of the pickup. 5. He Yells "SHADDUP!" back at her. 6. The Large German Shepherd barks from inside the house. 7. He yells "SHADDUP!" back at her too. 8. He sets the (1) box down on the gate 9. Slowly and awkwardly climbs out of the pickup bed 10. picks the box back up, and carries it into the garage.

Question: Aren't you going to help this poor man? Answer: Absolutely Not.

There's four military veterans, MANY dogs, and several people with dementia in this neighborhood, all of whom are terrified by this chicanery every year and many neighbors have repeatedly asked him to maybe do the fireworks somewhere else. (This is the Eighth Year Running he's held a major demolition event in his driveway, and for those of you who can do math, you may be able to guess the precipitating incident to this little ritual) Additionally, I live in Colorado, a state marginally less prone to spontaneous and catastrophic conflagrations than a rotting grain silo, but only marginally. Our recreational explosives laws are written accordingly.

I am in fact calling the Non Emergency line to report Fireworks violations, and reading off the brand labels to someone named Dorothy, who is gleefully totaling up a SPECTACULAR fine for my oblivious neighbor.

However, while I'm on the phone with Dorothy, I notice the wind begin to pick up. and by "Notice" I mean "The Industrial Saran Wrap he left on his Lawn earlier is suddenly swept up about 100 feet into the air by an updraft intense enough to make my ears pop" And by "Pick Up" I mean "I look up to see the sky has turned a fun and exciting shade of glass green, and the bottoms of the clouds are bumpy and rounded, and the overall effect is not unlike looking up through the bottom of the cup at God's Matcha Boba Tea."

For those of you who do not live in places with Inclement Weather, these conditions mean "You have about 30 seconds before a Major Meteorological Event Occurs."

I move under the eaves. "Hang on Dorothy." I say, nose filling with Petrichor. "The show is about to be cancelled." "Oh, that doesn't matter!" Dorothy cheerfully informs me. "It's illegal for him just to possess those, no matter if he actually gets to set them off or not." "Terrific, because he's gotten maybe five boxes out of a hundred inside."

Sometimes, the weather gods are Merciful and give you a verbal warning, typically in the kind of thunderclap that makes your ears ring.

The Gods were not merciful today.

It's not often that I am in the time, place, correct angle or in a properly observational frame of mind to see this, But I got to see it today. Huh. I thought. I've never seen a cloud just DIVE for the ground before. Oh. I realized as it got closer. That's RAIN.

Sometimes, a thunderstorm will form in such a way that the rain that would normally be distributed over an area of say, five to tent square miles, is instead concentrated into an area of say, my neighborhood exactly.

So today, I was granted the rare privilege of being able to actually see the literal wall of water descend from On High and DIRECTLY onto my porch, my street, and my neighbor's truck, and his pile of unwrapped fireworks.

The sheer impact force of the downpour immediately scatters the teetering pile of fireworks boxes in the back of the truck, like the wrath of God striking down the tower of Babel. Boxes tumble, then are washed out of the bed of the truck by the deluge. Smaller Boxes are carried down the road in a little line by the stream forming in the gutter, like little impotent explosive ducklings.

My neighbor was definitely yelling something, but I could not hear what over the DEAFENING noise several million gallons of water makes upon high-speed contact with the earth's surface, but there was a lot of arm-waving and faces turning red as he went looking for the saran wrap that had probably blown to Nebraska by now, while his wife started disassembling the complex three-dimensional puzzle of interlocking material goods in search of a tarp. They do not have a tarp. They have one of those wretched Thin Blue Line flags though, and my neighbor jogs out in a futile effort to cover what's left in the truck.

Which is when the hail begins.

"HELLO?" Yelled Dorothy. "HI!" I shouted. "WE'RE HAVING SOME WEATHER!" "OH GOOD!" she shouts back. "WE NEED THE MOISTURE!"

I watch for a minute longer, but the loss was immediate and catastrophic- the hail is the size of marbles and dense and cares not for your pitiful cardboard and cellophane, ripping the boxes asunder and punching holes in the few things covered in plastic. The colors on the Thin Blue Line Flag are seeping all over the remains of that it was supposed to protect in a particularly apt visual metaphor. Not even the few boxes that made it into the garage are spared, as the German Shepherd escapes from indoors, and in an attempt to assist her humans, jumps directly into the small stack of not-yet-ruined boxes, scattering them into the driveway and deluge. She even picks one up so her humans will chase her around the yard, before dropping it in the gutter to be swept away.

So. I was raised Agnostic -but even I can recognize when God slaps someone upside the head and shouts "NO!" at them.

---

(If you laughed, please consider supporting my Ko-fi or preordering my book of Strange Stories on Patreon)

[tonycries]

One More? Please? - G.S.

Synopsis. A kiss always solves everything! But when a kiss turns into something more…well, it’s only a desperate attempt to unseal yourselves from this damned prison realm, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, coworkers to lovers, being stuck in that damn box, oral (female), mutual másturbation, spitting, fáce-sítting, máting press, Satoru is down bad for you, chóking, overstim, multiple rounds, créampie, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 4.4k

A/N. Happy belated two months to this blog! Concept inspired by this post by @kingkonoha.

“Maybe we should kiss and see if the box opens?”

“That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

“Hey- it works in the movies! True love’s kiss and all-”

You heave out a heavy sigh that makes even the skeleton at your shoulder shake its head in pity. Goddamn, if these curses weren’t going to kill him then you will. 

“I take it back. That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

Satoru hooks a thumb over his blindfold to gaze at you with mock seriousness. Oh, how the mighty have fallen - and how you were teetering dangerously close to a stroke with each dramatic bat of his long lashes.

“C’monnn~” he whines, with the flair of someone that was not sealed in an inescapable prison, “Don’t tell me that in all these years you’ve never once been at least a little tempted to kiss me, sweetheart.” 

“I’d rather kiss that dusty skull.” Shooting him a pointed look that makes even the skulls at your feet recoil. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t for the fact that you were trapped. In the prison realm. With Gojo Satoru of all people. Possibly forever.

Shit, is this karma for all those times you ditched Satoru with Nanami instead of dealing with him yourself?

Now, Satoru might be going about it with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, but just a few minutes ago when his life flashed before his very eyes at the mere sight of Suguru - or at least, the monster wearing his body - he’d expected some of his favorite memories to be the ones with you in it. 

You - his lil’ coworker - in all your gorgeous, smart-mouthed glory. And maybe if he was lucky, he even expected a couple glimpses of you in his future. Preferably with a giant rock on your finger.

But that’s a story for another time, what he certainly did not expect was for your stupidly heroic (and quite beautiful) ass to jump right in the middle of the prison realm’s ensnarement. 

Although, honestly, right now he doesn’t think he’d want to be locked up in here with anyone but you - and that withering glare you send him. 

Undeterred, Satoru has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh. Laugh. A sound you’ve come to realize over the years, as innocent as it sounds, does not bode well for you or your sanity. 

A sanity that’s been slowly dwindling since your first day of meeting Satoru. Back then, a brash, cocky new teacher that waltzed into the halls of Jujutsu Tech in those pretentious sunglasses like he owned the place. 

Well, not that he was any different right now. Lounging over some disgruntled skeletons, you half-expected him to pull out a deck chair and start sunbathing amidst the bones. Your begrudging coworker - and occasional bane of your existence - seemed right at home. 

You, however, were decidedly not having the time of your life. 

“I swear, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you grumble, wincing at the bones prodding you from almost every angle. 

“Can you blame me?” he hums, now fully tugging down his blindfold to hang around his neck, “It’s not every day I get to spend quality time with my favorite person in the world.”

You scoff, strangely self-conscious as those striking blue sweep your figure from head to toe. “Lucky me. Well why don’t you spend this quality time helping me figure out how the hell we can get out of here.”

“I already told y-”

“Anything but that.”

With a sulky huff, Satoru peers down at you, “Then we just wait till someone gets us out of here. I’m sure Megumi-chan is just tearing his emo hair out trying to unseal this thing.”

“...”

“You’re absolutely correct, Yuji then. Or…” he tilts his head towards a sad pile of bones, “We end up like our little friend over there. Though I’d make a far better looking skeleton-”

You don’t hear the rest of Satoru’s rant over the small noise of concern that falls from your lips. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach at the fact that yes you really were stuck in the prison realm with Gojo Satoru. Possibly forever. And no this wasn’t some strange dream like when you and Shoko accidentally raided the wrong brownie box in the kitchen.

Shit. 

And perhaps it showed on your face, because you’re jolted out of your reverie by warm fingers intertwining with yours. Grounding. Satoru’s eyes now searching yours with an intensity that made you squirm uncomfortably. 

“Hey, we’ll figure this out, okay?” he mutters softly. “Remember that time we accidentally set the training ground on fire?” leaning in closer now, “Or that mission we got chased by that cursed vending machine?”

You roll your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. “Yeah, and then you nearly got us killed trying to order a sweet tea. ”

Satoru chuckles, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “See? It worked out, didn’t it? It always does, sweetheart.” 

And if your heart does a strange little lurch, well, then you just blame it on the femur jabbing into your side. 

All is quiet in your little hell. That is, until.

“Hey, Satoru…does kissing really work in the movies?” 

You barely catch the way Satoru’s breath hitches ever-so-slightly as he leans in closer. eyes sparkling with mischief. And oh you knew that look - one that was usually accompanied by a lecture by Yaga, one that sent shivers down your spine. He grins, “Well, there’s only one way to find out, hm?”

Embarrassment and amusement bubbles inside you, tumbling out in the form of a barely-audible, “A peck. One.”

“Awww. Eight?”’

“No.”

“Five?”

“Satoru.”

Minty breath fanning your face, “Okay okay, one peck and a kiss to your forehead. C’mon, it’s a bargain~”

Pinching your nose, you sigh out a weary, “This is so stupid. Fine, but if it doesn’t work then I’m strangling you.”

And it’s all that is said before his lips are on yours.  

Soft. Satoru’s lips were so soft. And he tasted so unfairly of caramel apples and sweet, sweet mischief. Just like him. Feather-light and fleeting - yet the kiss burns into your brain with an intensity that you strangely didn’t mind.

It’s over before you know it. The cold air hits your lips as Satoru’s words ring in your ears, a disappointed little, “Aw, that didn’t work.”

Barely even risking a glance at the still very sealed realm, your body reacts before your mind - the expensive cotton of his uniform collar soft against your fingers as you pull Satoru towards you with a sense of urgency you can’t quite explain.

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you because shit this is all that Satoru’s been dreaming about since he turned 23 and suddenly realized that oh you were frighteningly everything that he ever wanted. 

“S-Satoru,” you whisper, breathless against his lips. 

“Shhhh, my girl. One more. Didn’t work.” 

His lips are searing on yours. Urgent and greedy, because fuck if it took getting trapped in the prison realm to finally kiss you then God knows when he’ll be able to again. 

Which is why he breathes you in like he doesn’t have enough time, and probably never will - even in this godforsaken box where time never passes. 

“Shit. O-one more.”

Drinking in your sweet gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours, tasting how sinfully delicious you were. Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body, cupping your head to kiss you deeper, snaking down to squeeze your ass - and everything in between. 

Pulling away ever-so-slightly with a playful bite to your bottom lip, he leaves a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. The disappointed whine that leaves your pretty mouth makes all the blood in Satoru’s body rush to his cock. 

“Sweetheart.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, lips ghosting over your racing pulse. “Y’think I kissed the wrong lips?”

Oh? 

Satoru’s words send a jolt of electricity running down your spine - all the way down to your heated cunt. “W-what?” you managed to choke out, cheeks flaring as he raises his eyes to meet yours and-

Oh.

Oh, shit. If the curses weren’t going to kill you then Satoru sure might. 

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Satoru carefully jostling the two of you so that he’s lying on his back, your body manhandled to straddle his pretty face. 

“Satoru, when you mean ‘wrong lips’...here?” you trail off, still reeling from him and the abrupt change in position and him. 

“Exactly what I mean,” he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating beneath your dripping cunt. “Now, spread ‘em wider f’me. Let me taste you- Need it s’bad.”

Body moving as if on autopilot, your knees part wider to let him greedily take in the sight of your soaked panties. Beads of slick seeping through the thin fabric each time his hot breath meets your cunt. 

But not for long - the cool air hits you before you realize what’s happening. Because Satoru is ripping your flimsy panties off with one hand. Throwing it behind to God-knows-where with the urgency of a madman. 

“Shit, so wet f’me already.” he groans, mouth watering at the obscene sight of you clenching around nothing. “S’gorgeous. You really are perfect everywhere, huh?” he mutters through lazy, languid kisses along your thighs. Tongue darting out just so to leisurely trace circles along the heated skin. 

Strong arms wrap around your thighs, the stretch nothing with the two long fingers spreading your swollen folds apart. Your face burns from just how adoring Satoru looks below you.

You buck into his touch, “Hngh- Please. Wan’ your mouth on me.”

And perhaps the great Gojo Satoru decided to be merciful for once in his life, because without another word, he’s surging forward. Tongue flicking out to tease your sloppy entrance, pooling your juices before tipping his head back, back, back to let it slide down his throat so sinfully.

Shit, Satoru could just cum in his pants right now, of course you taste heavenly. Better than he could’ve ever imagined on any lonely night. 

You shudder as he flattens his tongue across your folds, sliding teasingly between them, grazing your swollen clit just barely at an unhurried rhythm that almost has Satoru forgetting where he was. But quite frankly, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it either.

“This what you wanted, sweetheart?” he hums around your clit, the vibrations making you squeal. Sucking gently, tongue rolling harshly against your bundle of nerves, over and over- “Cause it’s what I’ve been wanting for years.”

The words ring in your ears almost as much as the lewd squelches below. Years?

“F-fuck- feels hngh- What do you mean y-years, Satoru?” 

Oh, Satoru thinks he could pass out just at the way you whine out his name so prettily. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, a hand hastily snaking down to unbuckle his pants. “Mhmm~ Couldn’t go a day without sparring with you where I didn’t think of bending you over and tasting you right there y’know.”

Your eyes snap down to meet Satoru’s hazy, half-lidded ones. Something dark and feral shining within them. And right now, thighs wrapped around his head, you don’t think he’s ever looked happier. White locks splayed out, a fucked-out expression on his face as his tongue bullies past your folds, you could feel the slight smile curling his lips against you. 

It’s overwhelming - both his confession and the way Satoru was making out with your cunt like a man starved.

Nose-deep in your pussy, tongue alternating between its abuse on your throbbing clit and dipping in and out of your sloppy hole at a maddening pace. Mouth only speeding up ruthlessly at the way you convulse and grind involuntarily on top of him.

God, Satoru was going insane at the way your walls were sucking him up so good, clamping down with each push of his tongue. 

“Shit- made jus’ f’me. You like that, don’t you?” he growls against your cunt, voice hoarse with desire. “Like fucking my face with your pussy?”

“Oh! Ngh, yes Satoru- L-love it-”

A bruising grip on your hips, encouraging you to rock against his face. Harder. Tongue more desperate. He couldn’t get enough. Meeting your every grind, tongue lapping at your cunt so obscenely. 

Breaths ragged and hot against your cunt, drinking you in with the desperation of a man that wouldn’t mind giving up air for your essence. And it was Satoru - of course he wouldn’t mind.

Especially with the large hand snaking up your thigh, going from drawing reassuring patterns at your hips to rubbing tight, little circles on your pulsing clit. Hasty, and urgent - like he had no time to waste. “Tha’s right, my girl. Give it up for me,”

Every cell in your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure at the way Satoru plays your body like an instrument. 

“M’close, Satoru- Hah- s’close.” you moan breathlessly, a hand tangling in his soft strands. Using it as leverage to ride Satoru’s pretty face just the way you like it.

But you didn’t have to - because Satoru seems to already know exactly what to do. Exactly how to quirk his tongue just right to brush against all your most sensitive spots. Exactly how to match the rhythm of his abuse on your clit to the way he was tonguefucking you into delirium. Exactly how to look at you with such a hungry expression that devours you almost as much as his mouth. 

“Cum f’me, sweetheart.”

Satoru didn’t even have to ask. Because you’re cumming with a strangled gasp of his name. White-hot pleasure coursing through you like lightning, body trembling as you cum all over Satoru’s pretty face. 

Hands moving your limp, boneless hips across his face, forcing you to ride out peak after peak on his red lips.

As the blood roaring in your ears bates, and you blink back your vision, the first thing you see are those familiar blue eyes gazing up at you. Holding you steady, lips brushing gentle kisses along your inner thighs. 

Oh, how beautiful he was like this.

“S-S’toru?” you mewl, still sensitive from your orgasm as Satoru shifts underneath you to sit you prettily in his lap.

“Mhm?” he nuzzles your neck.

“One more. It didn’t work.”

Oh, if you knew the only way to shut up Gojo Satoru was to say something like this then you would’ve done it a lot sooner. 

But Satoru’s stunned silence doesn’t last for long, because he grins, low and sultry, “You’re right. It didn’t work.”

The metallic clinking of a belt echoes in the stuffy chamber as Satoru hastily pushes down his pants. Cock springing free to hit his lower abs, “What a shame.”

You blink at the sheer size of him - he was going to split you in two. It was unfair, really. Water is wet. Gojo Satoru has a big dick. 

But oh was he pretty - so pretty.  Prominent veins glistening in the dim lighting, fat tip flushed your favorite shade of delicate pink, leaking furiously in between your thighs.

Gulping, you reach out to wrap your hand around his achingly hard cock. So warm and heavy in your hands. “Y-yeah, what a shame.”

Both of you watch - entranced - at the way he twitches in your grasp at the mere sound of your voice. A maddening little bump! bump! bump! against your palm as you begin pumping him slowly - so agonizingly slow. 

“Oh- Feel s’good, sweetheart.” Satoru hisses lowly as you swipe at the precum beading at this head. Thumbing teasingly under his sensitive slit, tracing delicately along his veins. 

And by God does it do something to you to see the great Gojo Satoru falling apart for you, hair tousled, lips kiss-bitten, and eyes looking at you like he wanted to positively eat you alive. It made your cunt throb so desperately, slick forming a dark wet patch on his trousers. 

Not one to be left behind, his long fingers deftly snake down to your dripping cunt. Not wasting any time before bullying his fingertips past your swollen folds, curling expertly to press down against that one spot that has your fist faltering on his cock. Hard. 

Pretty little moans left your lips at the way Satoru so easily matches your pace. Thrusting knuckle-deep into your pussy in and out - hitting that spot over and over.

“Shit, Toru- s’deep inside me. I’m- hngh-”

Satoru was in heaven, really. You were so warm and wet around both his fingers and his throbbing cock. 

Only two thoughts running through his mind right now - 1. He was right, your hands were softer and more sinfully delicious around his swollen cock. And 2. The hardest battle he’s ever fought was probably right now - at your mercy, trying not to spill all over your hands because he’d be damned if he finally scored the girl and came in two seconds.

Shit, he thinks fingers almost erratic now, he needs you to cum. Right now. 

As if sensing his urgency, your moves become more frantic, Satoru’s brows furrowing at the way you increase your pace. His hips twitch, as if trying to thrust into your fist. matching your pace as you start stroking him harder, faster. 

Ah, but alas, the great Gojo Satoru’s reputation precedes him. 

“Oh, fuck- M’gonna-” And soon enough, you’re seeing stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - as you cum. Hard. 

Body moving before your mind, you’re clenching around Satoru’s fingers, grinding down so ferally as you edge him closer and closer. “C’mon, Toru. One more, right?” you whisper brokenly, lips ghosting his ear.

Breath coming in short, strained gasps of what sounded like your name now, “Oh- fuck ngh- so close.” he warns, voice hoarse. “If you keep doing that, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

You smirk, raising a brow, “Is that a threat, Satoru?”

Willing his fucked-out eyes open, they bore into yours as he utters, “No, ah- it’s a p-promise.”

Without warning, Satoru clasps your wrists, forcing you to stop pumping him. The disappointed mewl threatening to spill from your lips is cut off just as your back hits the ground.

Slam!

You think you could almost get whiplash from how swiftly Satoru had you caged and splayed out so shamefully beneath him. 

You whine, “But you didn’t even get to-”

“Fuck, not now. Gotta feel you or else m’gonna cum so embarrassingly all over your fist.” He rests his throbbing erection laid out so enticingly across your stomach, leaking hot precum onto your skin. And that makes you shut up, eyes mapping where it ended and realizing that yeah, you might’ve faced more mercy with the curses outside of this box. “Besides. One more, right?”

And before you can respond, Satoru’s spitting on you once. Twice. Thrice.

You flinch as the wads of saliva hit your dripping cunt, mixing with your slick so obscenely as Satoru smears it across your swollen folds. Your mouth drops into a soft oh! of disbelief as he promptly pops his thumb into his mouth, groaning at the taste. 

“Shit.” Satoru hisses lowly, “One more might just not be enough.”

Not wasting a moment longer, he’s bullying his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. Head thrown back as your plush walls desperately try to accommodate his size.

“Oh. Oh shit hah- should’ve been locked up here ngh- sooner.” he groans, words straight from his cock. “Feel s’heavenly around m-me.” Because God Satoru thinks he wouldn’t even mind staying here for the rest of his life if it meant he got to have you like this.

You moan at the positively delicious stretch of your pussy, plush walls unable to decide between pushing him out and milking the soul out of him. “Hah- Toru s’too big. I can’t-” 

“You will.” he grits out, teeth clenched and brows furrowed as he focuses on letting you adjust. Pressing inch by fucking inch. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fights that feral part of himself that just wants to plunge into your pretty pussy till his tip kisses your cervix, and you’re drunk on nothing but his cock.

But he didn’t have to - because you’re immediately wrapping your legs around his toned waist, pulling Satoru to you recklessly until his heavy balls smack your ass. Tufts of snowy white hair - already so wet with your slick and his precum - finally meeting your cunt.

“Ah! Shit, s’full Toru.” you keen, body bowing into his.

There’s not even a hair's breadth between your bodies now as Satoru chuckles darkly. “You little minx. Thought you couldn’t handle me, but you really wanted to be split apart on my cock, huh?”

You feel almost shy under his gaze as you mumble out a quiet little, “Well you did say one more.”

Ah, Satoru thinks deliriously, if you aren’t Mrs. Gojo by the time you two get out of this then there’s seriously something wrong with him. 

But he doesn’t tell you that. Instead with a satisfied smirk, he claims your lips in a searing kiss, sucking your tongue so lewdly as he did with your cunt. Parting for only a second before pressing his lips to yours again. And again. And again, as if it hurt to part.

“Mhm. Always wanted to do this, sweetheart.” he hums against your pretty lips. “Fuck ever since you hah- walked in on that first day.” 

Kissing you sweetly with a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his hips as pulls back, back, back. All the way till his angry, hard tip was just grazing your sloppy entrance. “One more.”

Body moving before his mind, his hips start fucking into your dripping cunt recklessly. Satoru doesn’t fuck you with the finesse he imagined he would all these years, rough, harsh thrusts fueled by pure need and all the desperation from these last few years.

In one, fluid movement, the burn of the stretch hits you before the realization that Satoru has thrown your legs over his sculpted shoulders. 

“Ah- So good, Toru. Oh my god- hah-” you mewl at the change in angle. His pulsing dick expertly hitting that one spot inside you which has your words slurring together, body arching off the floor to press so impossibly close against him. 

And, well, Satoru isn’t any better - because he’s slamming his cock into you mindlessly. Hitting that spot over and over. 

With one hand, he caresses your stomach. Whispering out a ragged, “Feel me inside? Feel me right…” Pressing his palm down hard, “Here.”

The other forces you to look up at him, drinking in your whines of “Yes yes yes, can feel you s-so deep hngh- inside me, Toru.” 

You’re so cockdrunk and full of Satoru that you barely notice the hands groping their way down your body. Catching harshly on your swollen clit, starting to draw, quick, frenzied circles that match the cadence of his hips smacking into yours. 

“Look at me.” he murmurs raspily, “Open your mouth.”

And you can do nothing but take it, tongue lolling out so lewdly for the warm stream of spit that hits it. Once. Twice. 

You look up at him with teary eyes, as you take it all -  anything and everything he was giving. And it makes Satoru bow his head with a fucked-out groan, cock twitching so animalistically as it keeps plunging inside you roughly. Deft fingers on your clit becoming more desperate.

Harder. Faster. Balls squeezing so painfully. Like a lamb to slaughter, he was going to eat you up - and you were going to let thim.

You squeal at the overstimulation, hips bucking up for more more more-

“God, sweetheart, you don’t know what you do to me.” he moans, voice strained with desire and the euphoria of getting everything he’s wanted for so long. It was driving him insane. “Now c’mon. One more. Give me one more like my good girl.”

“Hngh- yes- Toru!”

You don’t even know what “one more” means anymore - all you do know is that you’re cumming and cumming all around Satoru’s unforgiving cock. Walls fluttering so snugly, your body convulses as you cream around his cock. Nails dragging down the expanse of his sculpted back, Satoru’s name leaving your bruised lips and into the heady air like a prayer every time his tip kisses your cervix. His new favorite melody.

And that seems to be what makes him snap as well - because with a final, sloppy thrust, he’s painting your walls such a sinful white. Pumping thick, hot ropes of his cum into your quivering cunt. 

“Shit- yeah, my girl. Take it. Take it all f’me.” Satoru shudders above you, head thrown back, chest heaving as he fucks you through your high. Movements nothing more than shallow, mindless little thrusts to get you both off so animalistically. 

It was so fucking filthy - and exactly what you needed so badly. He was exactly what you needed so badly. 

Now, Satoru only had to take one look as you use him so obscenely for your pleasure - eyes dazed, drool trickling down the corner of your mouth - before he thinks he might just cum again. And again. And again until he physically couldn’t anymore.

But first…

Pulling out of your heavenly pussy with a lewd pop! His long fingers delicately collects the mixture of slick and cum now gushing out of you obscenely. 

Aw, what a waste, Satoru muses as it pools below you sinfully. If it was up to him he wouldn’t waste a single drop from your pretty cunt. 

But no matter. 

Abruptly, Satoru bullies two fingers into your mouth - forcing you to taste yourself, to taste him. Pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way that has you choking and gagging around him, teary eyes just begging up at him. Perfect - you were so perfect for him. 

Kissing your forehead with a tenderness that doesn’t match his actions, he hums, faux innocence lacing his words, “What a shame, the box didn’t open yet.”

And oh does he love the excitement lighting up your exhausted eyes. Pretty thighs twitching underneath him as a slow, fucked-out little smile curls your lips. 

“One more? Please?”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[heytheredelulu]

Little Bookworm 18+

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Content Warnings: unprotected sex (p-in-v), rough sex, dirty talk, size kink, dubcon kink (as long as Bucky can keep a straight face), tummy bulge, language, a good ole coochie slap (once), cum play, a little fluff, some aftercare

Your boyfriend can’t think of anything more adorable than watching you read. One night while you’re in the shower he picks up the book you left on the nightstand: “Haunting Adeline by H.D. Carlton” and thumbs through it, very quickly realizing just what kind of books his sweet little bookworm is really into.

Inspired by my IRL husband’s reaction to my smutty reads.

Note: I don’t own any characters or works referenced in this oneshot and shout out to H.D. Carlton for creating Zade Meadows and giving us the house of mirrors chapter that’s been living rent free in both me and @lilacka’s head for over a year.

Bucky absolutely loved to watch you read.

The subtle way your expressions changed as your eyes would glide across the pages made his heart swell with admiration.

He found himself entranced with your concentration, your eyebrows knitting together in thought, your lips quirking up into a smile and even the soft laughter that would sometimes escape you as you delved deep into the world you held in your hands.

He was always more than happy to accompany you to the bookstore, leaning against the shelves and observing you as you thumbed through new titles, stacking your choices in his strong arms before darting down the next aisle to browse further.

He looked forward to the evenings where he could lay his head comfortably in your lap, his arm draped across your thighs as you worked your fingers lazily through his hair while you read quietly above him.

Tonight he lay in bed with his hands folded behind his head, listening to the gentle sound of the shower from the bathroom as you bathed when his gaze fell on your most recent read on the nightstand. The cover was dark with a skull and roses, something about a ‘Haunting’ and an absurd amount of sticky notes jutted out from the pages. His curiosity overtook him and he sat up, picking it up and turning it over in his hands. He thumbed through it carefully before letting it fall open to one of the tagged pages, his eyes scanning the text and widening slightly at the content.

He flipped to another tab, quickly reading through the passage, his breath quickening as he took in the words.

“If I catch you, I fuck you.”

Jesus Christ.

The bathroom door creaked open and he slowly lifted his gaze up to you.

Your damp body wrapped in a towel with your wet hair against your neck and shoulders did absolutely nothing to combat the heat that was already rising within him at what he’d just read.

Your eyes connect for a beat before you glance down to notice the book in his hand, opened to one of your tagged pages.

It was hard to discern if the flush across your cheeks was remnant of the heat of the shower or from the slight embarrassment of feeling caught by your boyfriend discovering the absolute filth you’d been reading.

He raises a brow at you, lifting the book and tapping on the open passage.

“If I catch you, I fuck you?” He asks, tilting his head curiously. “Really?”

You huff and roll your eyes, stepping forward and reaching to snatch the book from his hands but he’s quicker, snapping it shut and holding it just out of your reach.

“No, no. We’re gonna talk about this, doll.” He says, his lips curling into a smirk. “This is what you’ve been reading?”

You shift from foot to foot.

“Sometimes.” You reply with a weak shrug.

He turns the book over in his hands again and idly runs his palm back and forth against all the flags poking out from between the pages. “And do you.. like this stuff?” He asks, not looking up. “Does it turn you on?”

You swallow hard and nod despite the fact he’s not looking at you.

“Sometimes.” You repeat quietly.

“Huh.”

He purses his lips and nods thoughtfully, standing up and tossing the book onto the bed. “I guess you oughta run then.”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hair line.

Did he just?

Is he going to?

“W-what?” You stutter out, taking a small step back as he closes in on you.

He tsks and reaches out, brushing your wet hair back off your shoulder with two fingers. “You heard me, baby.”

You open your mouth to reply but the words are lost the moment he seizes the edge of your towel in his large hand.

Your eyes connect for a brief moment before he yanks the towel free of your body and discards it on the ground, leaving you exposed, confused and incredibly aroused.

His hand settles on your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple and sending a rush of desire straight to your core. He dips his head to nuzzle his forehead against your temple, his tongue flicking against your earlobe.

“You should probably run now.” He warns in a whisper, taking a step back to give you space for a head start.

You stare wide eyed in disbelief, your head barely able to wrap around what was happening.

“Five.” He says in a threatening tone, bringing his hand down to palm his growing erection under his sweatpants.

You’re frozen to the spot.

There’s no fucking way he’s about to do this.

“Four.”

Okay, maybe he is.

You take off at a run, reaching the bedroom door and flinging it open with him hot on your tail.

Your bare feet pound against the hardwood floor and you rush down the hall towards the staircase, making it only two steps down before his strong arm catches you around the waist and picks you up effortlessly.

You wiggle against his hold, kicking your feet and thrashing.

“You’re not very fast, you know.” He teases, tightening his grip on you, his cock straining against his sweatpants and pressing into your backside.

He carries you back into the bedroom, his arm locked around you in a vice grip and tosses you onto the bed as if you were weightless. He tugs his sweatpants down and kicks them off, his cock bobbing with every step as he stalks towards you.

He braces his palms on the bed, preparing to climb up and pin you but you scramble backwards off the bed and take off again. He pauses, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Wait, what-?” he straightens up and turns, watching as you sprint across the room and he frowns, realizing you weren’t going to let him catch you that easily.

“Damnit.” He grumbles, launching himself up over the bed.

He chases you with heavy footsteps towards the bathroom and you rush to shut the door but his hand catches it and forces it open, leaving you completely cornered with nowhere else to turn. “Shit.” You breathe out, looking around for a possible way out. He laughs, a cute and genuine laugh that is just so Bucky, completely betraying the role he was attempting to play.

You cross your arms over your bare breasts and frown. “I’m sorry.” He says, shaking his head. “I- just.. why did you run into the bathroom?” He asks, gesturing around the small room with amusement. “I don’t know!” You huff, your lips pressing into a pout. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you definitely weren’t.” He agrees, swinging his foot back to kick the door shut behind him. “Guess you’re trapped, huh?”

You nod, letting your arms fall away from your breasts. “I guess I am.” You breathe out, your body thrumming with a mix of excitement and desire as your eyes trail down his toned body to land on his fully erect cock. He’s on you in an instant, grabbing your wrist and tossing you to the ground.

You fall hard on your hands and knees onto the plush bath mat, barely able to steady yourself on all fours before he’s on your back, arm hooked around your waist and sinking his cock into your wet, throbbing cunt. You arch back into him, fingers digging into the bath mat and a choked gasp catches in your throat as he pulls you flush to his pelvis, burying himself to the hilt. He snakes his free hand up your abdomen towards your chest, a trail of goosebumps following in his wake, dipping his forehead down to rest against the back of your shoulder. He palms your breast roughly, rolling your peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Bucky..” You whisper, your head falling back.

His forearm tightens around your waist and he releases your nipple with a gentle tug, sliding his hand up to curl around your throat. You moan and wiggle your hips, desperate for him to move, but he holds you still, lifting you up with him as he leans back on his heels.

“I’ll never get tired of this.” He whispers, unhooking his arm from your waist and resting his large hand over the slight bulge in your abdomen. “That’s my cock.” He murmurs, squeezing your throat gently before grasping your jaw and tilting your chin down to look at how he’s stretching you. You whimper and he moves your hand to press down on the bulge of his cock in your belly. “And this is my pussy.” He growls, delivering a slap to your aching clit before he draws his hips back and begins to thrust himself up into you at a steady pace.

A string of soft curses falls from your lips and your head drops back against the crook of his neck, your hand leaving your abdomen and reaching backwards to fist in his hair. “I didn’t realize you were such a freak, baby.” He whispers, his hand tightening around your throat. “I shoulda thumbed through one of your little books sooner.”

His free hand kneads at the flesh of your thigh and he groans, his balls slapping against your ass as he fucks up into you. “I- I-“ You stutter, unable to think straight as your head grows dizzy with pleasure. “Oh no, am I fuckin’ my baby stupid?” He asks with a grin, bringing two fingers to tease at your bottom lip. You open on instinct and he slips them into your mouth, letting out a shaky breath as you suck and swirl your tongue around the digits.

“Fuck.” He hisses, pressing his slick fingers to your clit. You gasp, your fingers curling around his wrist as he strokes your sensitive bud, pulling you closer towards your impending orgasm.

“You gonna come, little bird?” He whispers, trying to reference your book and quickening his fingers against your clit. “It’s ‘little mouse’.” You correct, your lips quirking up into a smirk at his admirable attempt. “Whatever.” He hisses, pinching your clit between his fingers and sending a jolt of white-hot pleasure through your body. You choke out a strangled cry as you come, your legs trembling and back arching against him as your cunt clenches around his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He grunts, shoving you forward to the floor and falling to his knees. You scramble forward, his cock slipping from your dripping hole as you try to steady yourself in the dizzying wake of your orgasm.

“Oh no, no you don’t.” He growls, grabbing your ankle and dragging you back towards him. You lose your balance and fall flat, your breasts smashed against the cold tile as he presses his weight down on you, running his cock back and forth along your folds before thrusting back into you. “T-too much!” You whine, squirming underneath him.

“Tell me to stop.” He grunts, knowing damn well you never would. He hooks his forearm under your waist again and angles your hips upward, taking you deeper than you even thought possible.

Choked sobs of euphoria escape your throat as your cheek rests against the floor, dragging back and forth across the tile from the force at which he’s fucking into you. Your limp body shakes uncontrollably as your pussy spasms and waves of ecstacy crash over you faster than you can count them. Your orgasms explode through you like a string of firecrackers as you curse and mumble incoherently.

He pulls out abruptly, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your back, moving to straddle your chest while he frantically fucks his fist. He comes with a shout, gasping as he paints your face with ropes of hot, sticky cum. “Fuck.” He pants, looking down at you in admiration as he brushes his thumb along your cheek, gathering up his seed.

He pinches your flushed, sticky cheeks together with his free hand. “Open.” He says softly, slipping his thumb into your mouth when you do. You suckle his thumb, greedily cleaning it with a swirl of your tongue, looking up at him through half lidded eyes. He sighs contentedly before moving off you and rising to stand, reaching into the shower to turn on the water.

“And I had just showered.” You mumble as you take the hand he offers you and pull yourself up on wobbly knees. “Don’t you dare bitch about the water bill when it comes.” You tease.

He chuckles softly and pulls you into him, holding you against his chest with one strong arm while the other reaches out to test the temperature of the water. “I won’t.” He says, stepping in first and gently helping you in after him. He wraps his arms lovingly around you and rests his chin atop your head as the warm water cascades over you both.

“Let’s clean you up, doll. It’s late and we have plans in the morning.” He says quietly, his eyes slipping closed as his hand runs idly up and down your back. You lean back and look up at him with your brows furrowed in confusion. “We don’t have plans tomorrow.”

His eyes flutter open and he grins. “The hell we don’t.” He replies, reaching for the shampoo bottle and squeezing the contents into the palm of his hand. You open your mouth to protest when he doesn’t answer your question but he simply twirls a finger, gesturing for you to turn around.

You sigh, turning your back to him and he begins to lather the shampoo in your hair, gently massaging your scalp with his fingers. “So what’re these plans?” You ask quietly after a long moment of silently enjoying his hands tenderly working through your locks. He leans forward, his broad, wet chest pressing against your back and brings his mouth to hover beside your ear.

His breath sends a shiver down your spine as he lets out a low, breathy laugh and whispers, “I’m taking you to buy more books.”

[luxaofhesperides]

the beginning - danny

0.

The Lazarus Pit brings Danny back.

The child who went into them, however, is gone forever.

Danyal al Ghul is the soul who should reside in this body. Danyal has a life still to live and Danny died ages ago, old and surrounded by loved ones, ready to spend the rest of his forever in the Infinite Realms.

Something's gone terrible wrong, he thinks rather wryly, squinting through the cold green water that surrounds him. An ache echoes through his body and he brings a hand—small, a child's hand that shouldn't belong to him— to his stomach, where he can feel a large wound slowly pull itself together.

Did I get stabbed?

He means to continue the thought, but a sharp pain hits his head, making him curl up. He gasps and air bursts from his lungs, water rushing to fill in the empty space. Danny chokes, panicking, as memories slide into place, the lives of Danyal al Ghul and Danny Fenton fighting for dominance in his head. His lungs burn, throat working futilely to push water out, but there's nothing to be done.

Danny is a child again, and just like last time, he dies young.

1. So.

Assassins.

Danny honestly can't tell if this is a step up or a step down from mad scientist parents. On the one hand: he knows they loved him, as clumsy as it was, even though they loved their work more. On the other hand: assassin cult sounds like something out of a fairy tale, and while cool, is definitely not safe for kids.

And Danny, somehow, is a child again.

This really wasn't what he expected when he woke up on the sandy bottom of the pit. He's in ghost form, which is an unpleasant shock, but at least its familiar.

He is also, if his memory as Danyal serves him correctly, nine years old.

Kinda sucks that he died so young this time round. Didn't even make it to the double digits before he was taken out of the running.

He can't remember what it was like being so small in his last life. He can't imagine how anyone would look at a child and run them through with a sword. It's a cruel world he's woken up in. It's made worse by the fact that he's alone.

At least being down here without needing to breathe is giving him valuable time to think.

Danny has lived a full life already. He didn't really need or want another one, content to be a full ghost in the Infinite Realms. But going back isn't really an option, now that he's in a new body. The kid he could have been deserves to live fully, and the least Danny can do is live that life for them.

It'll be hard, but Danny's sure he can manage a decent life for himself.

Being presumed dead will make his escape from the assassins easier, though he'll miss getting the chance to meet his new mother; assassin as she is, Danyal knows her not by her blades but by her soft lullabies and jasmine-scented hair. The loss of her child must be hurting her deeply, but it's necessary. If Danny wants any semblance of a normal life, he has to leave her behind.

Besides, he's seen enough death. He doesn't want to ever be the cause of it.

So, he needs a plan for this new life.

Step one: get out of dodge.

The rest he'll figure out on the way.

2.

Turns out assassins weren't the most shocking thing in this new life.

No, that honor goes to superheroes.

Genuine, honest to God superheroes! With powers and everything!

To think that Danny once called himself a superhero. Ha! As if! He's nothing compared to the likes of Superman or the Flash or even Green Lantern. They're in another league. Literally. They're part of the Justice League, which has a whole slew of other heroes, and Danny is possibly their biggest fan.

Not like that's weird; most people in this world are huge fans of superheroes. Makes sense, since they're the ones who rely on their protection the most.

It does suck to know that his background belongs to that of a villain. Assassins aren't known for saving people, after all.

Part of him contemplates becoming a hero again, taking up the role of Phantom and joining the ranks of Superman. But he's had many years to come to terms with the loss of his teenage years and the bitterness that came with it. That experience, that life once lived, helps him decide each time that being a civilian is the gift this life owes him.

At thirteen, Danny lives in a foster home with six other kids. He's the oldest and has his hands full taking care of everyone else while their foster parents work three jobs between them to keep them all afloat.

When his younger siblings play superheroes, he gladly takes the role of the villain, swooping in with a blanket to kidnap away an innocent bystander that has to be rescued. He falls over dramatically at the end of each fight and praises his siblings' strength and teamwork, making them puff up with pride.

It's all fun and games so long as it only stays fun and games.

Superpowers are cool and all, but his came at the cost of his life, his health, his future. He knows, better than anyone, the price of being a hero. He knows that even Superman carries heavy losses on his shoulders, struggles under burdens no one can see.

He's lucky that the small town he ended up in—Luray, Virginia—has no heroes or villains. Too small a place to be on anyone's radar, apparently.

His classmates often complain about how they wish they could live in a big city where there's more to do, more to see, superheroes flying through the streets to protect them.

Danny is happy where he is. It's quiet, and small, and nothing like what he's used to, but it's safe.

That's all he really wants.

3.

Here's something that stays the same no matter what world he's in: Danny is a magnet for trouble.

If the trouble stopped at bullies, everything would have been fine. Danny could handle Dash, and he could handle Justin just as easily.

But the universe loves to escalate with Danny, specifically, which is why Danny had to reveal his powers when some villain-wannabe school shooter attacked his high school.

And to think he felt bad for Jackson when he didn't make it onto the track team.

Luray does not have a meta population. They're too small to have much of a population at all, and much of it is white which made him, half-Iranian, stand out even before he threw out a barrier of ice to protect his classmates a second before the gunfire began.

"Danny?!" his seatmate, Clarrissa, cries out in alarm.

"Everyone get out the window and run for it!" he orders, "I hold him back as much as I can!"

"You can't stay here!"

"Don't worry," Danny says, offering her a tight smile. "He couldn't kill me even if he tried. Now go!"

His classmates hadn't wasted any more time, sending him shocked looks as they escaped the classroom. A glimpse of his reflection in the window revealed glowing green eyes and blue mist wafting out of his mouth.

Looks like his time in Luray is up. He hopes his foster siblings won't be too mad at him for running away.

The gunfire stops, and Danny takes his chance to leap through his ice, intangible, and tackle Jackson, easily knocking the gun away from him.

"Monster!" Jackson spits at him, and Danny laughs.

"Bold of you to say that. I'm not to one trying to kill people."

He doesn't want to hear anything else that comes out of Jackson's mouth, so he knocks the guy out with a solid hit to a pressure point on his neck. Hopefully that'll keep him down long enough for the cops to get him.

Danny stands and means to leave, but something hits the back of his head hard and he's out before he realizes what's happened.

When he wakes up, he's strapped down to a table in what is undeniably a lab, and sighs.

At least he made it to sixteen before he went into another lab. Maybe in his next life he might even get all the way up to twenty before he's pulled back down here.

4. Though he has all his powers and a ghost form, that doesn't mean he is a ghost in this life.

No, he's fully a meta, which means meta-suppressing cuffs work on him.

It's not exactly a discovery he was hoping to have while locked up in a lab, but it's what he's got, so he has to roll with it. The cuffs are heavy on his wrists and around his throat, keeping him from escaping as a group of people in masks and lab coats bustle around, ignoring him.

His head is still foggy, though likely more from the drugs than the hit he took to his head.

He doesn't bothering talking to any of them; they don't see him as human, and Danny's dealt with enough of that in his past life.

Mad scientists love to talk though, so he still hears the gist of their plans: recreating the meta gene for normal people, making a profit from selling powers, getting rich and famous from their accomplishments. They had been using Jackson to get corpses for human testing, but they got Danny instead — someone they can harvest bio material for, a much better find than a couple dead kids.

If he had the energy to rage, Danny would have killed everyone in the room already. They planned to kill his classmates just for test subjects.

He doesn't want to be an assassin, but he'd gladly lean into those old lessons to make sure they never hurt anyone again.

But the cuffs and drugs do a good job of keeping him docile, barely able to think, as they transport him around to different locations and cut him open.

He's not sure how long it's been when they ease up on the drugs a bit. It still takes time for his body to work through everything, and he comes too with a throat that's dry and a stomach that hasn't had anything in it for quite some time.

The first thing Danny does when they start asking him questions is throw up on them.

If they wanted cooperation, they should have treated him better. This is fully on them.

It makes for a convincing argument for food and water and a bathroom break, at least, so he gets what he demands and takes care of his human body under the cold gazes of three scientists.

"You guys suck," he says conversationally. "Keeping test subjects alive is like basic knowledge. No wonder y'all suck at your jobs."

"Your comments aren't needed," one of the scientists says primly. "Get up. We need to study how using your powers affects your body."

They hook a bunch of different things onto him, then lock him in a glass cage and use the cuff around his throat to send jolts of electricity through him when he doesn't do anything. He throws a chunk of ice at them, watching as it breaks apart into small pieces when it hits the glass. The scientists scribble in their notepads, and when they look at him again, he flips them off.

He gets shocked again, but it's worth it.

The process repeats for another few hours, then he's pulled out of the cage, gets an IV stuck in his arm, and drops off into drugged oblivion before he has time to start throwing hands.

5.

It must have been months. Danny's not sure; it's hard to keep track of time when locked in isolation.

He knows he's fed at least once a day. He's been getting a tray of bland food at random times, but he's counted over 50 trays sliding through the little slot on the bottom of his cell door.

Turns out insulting scientists and their procedures is a bad idea, especially when he has the language to really bruise their egos.

So.

Isolation sucks.

But at least they don't drug him anymore!

The cuffs do their job of keeping him in place, and if he didn't have memories of another life to keep him company, he definitely would have lost his mind long ago.

There's other people in here, other metas. He's heard them screaming and begging for mercy. He's heard them go chillingly quiet. He wonders why there are so many superheroes in this world when not a single one has come to save them.

Surely at least one would notice metas disappearing and would investigate?

But no.

No one ever comes to save them.

So Danny needs to figure out a way past the cuffs, and then he can be Phantom again long enough to free the other metas and make every scientist involve pay for their crimes.

He just needs to wait.

He just needs—

6.

When Danny wakes up, the alarms are ringing. It makes his head pound, throbbing with each piercing sound.

He stumbles up, using the wall to keep his balance, and freezes when he sees that the door to his cell is open.

…Huh.

The hallway is bathed in red light when he steps out. No one's around. He wanders around the facility, searching for answers and only finds more questions.

There are other cells, also empty. Certain rooms have blood splattered across the walls and the floor, but no bodies. Labs are destroyed, broken glass on the floor. But every room is empty.

He wanders until he finds what must be a security room. There's a strange device dangling off a keychain on a rack, and Danny eyes it curiously. He runs his fingers around the cuff on his throat, feels the little depression where the collar comes together, and takes the rounded device. If it doesn't work, then it doesn't work.

But if it does work…

The cuff pops open easily, as if it hasn't been his greatest foe these past few months.

All at once, his strength returns to him. He has forgotten what it was like to breathe easily, to feel his powers come to his call so easily, to be reassured that he can take care of himself.

It's almost like coming back to life.

He transforms, settling back into his ghost form with relief, and flies through the facility in search of any other metas that may need help. He finds no one, but he does catch a glimpse of the outside.

The sky is so blue it almost hurts to look at. Part of the facility has been blown apart; rubble surrounds the place and the surrounding forest has been flattened. It looks as though a fight has moved through the area.

Maybe a superhero did come to save them? Rude of them to leave only Danny, though.

He continues his search, poking his head into different rooms and hallways. He finds a staircase going down and follows it into the basement. More labs greet him, and the glow of computers and strange vials of liquid leave him unsettled.

There's a green glow coming around the corner than reminds him of the Lazarus Pit he flew out of, once upon a time many years ago, and that's what draws him forward.

Tucked away in that familiar glow is a small body, floating in a tube of liquid. There's an oxygen mask attached to her face, but that doesn't stop Danny from recognizing her.

"Ellie?"

7.

Just like in one life, Danny is cloned. The difference is that this time, there's no reason for it, no insane godfather trying to recreate a version of him that will choose him.

No, this time it's from a group of scientists who should have known better, who decided to mess around with his genes, and brought his once little sister now daughter into such a cruel, dangerous world.

Danny barely remembers breaking the glass to get her out of there. He doesn't know where he found the coat to bundle her up in, flying out of the facility as fast as he could. He feels sick, knowing it's his fault that she's here now, forced into a painful, terrifying existence because he wasn't strong enough to save himself.

He's a runaway meta victim of mad science. He can't take care of her.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," he whispers to her, pressing a kiss against her head. "I'm so sorry."

She small in his arms. She barely weighs anything.

Danny blinks back tears and tries to find some place he can stop and rest, somewhere safe he can gather his thoughts and figure out his next steps.

This isn't like when he first woke up in this world, with both sets of memories.

This is Ellie.

She deserves more than just a wish and a half-baked plan for a better life.

She deserves a family that wants her, that can care for her, that can protect her. She deserves to grow up normally and not worry about destabalizing or being a replacement for him or being hunted down.

She deserves one life to be a kid and grow up safe and be whoever she wants to be.

Danny will never be able to give her that.

But maybe he can give her to someone who can.

8.

Danyal grew up with an assassin mother and a cruel grandfather who expected far too much from a child. He was taught to kill and be more weapon than child. He was taught the world was something for him to take, to protect, to water with blood.

Danyal was meant to be the next Demon Head, and the next Bat.

Danny knows he can't go to his mother. If they're both lucky, he will never have to see her again. Knowing his luck, he's already planning explanations for why he never went back to her.

Danny's father, on the other hand…

It didn't take much to put the pieces together. The notorious Bat is Batman, Gotham's vigilante and one of the founders of the Justice League. While a child would have been left confused by the many comments his mother made about his father, it was simple enough for Danny to line them up with what he learned about the heroes of this world and realize, oh, that's my dad.

It takes a few weeks of research, using public libraries with Ellie tucked securely in a wrap to his chest, but he's able to learn more about Batman.

The most important thing being that he has kids.

Of course, none of this is officially acknowledged, but everyone knows that the Robins are his kids. Current Robin, especially, likes to remind people that he's 'the son of Batman'.

Okay. Cool.

Danny has siblings.

Awesome.

He's… not looking forward to those conversations.

At least it means more people to look after Ellie. Assuming they take her in, which Danny's really hoping for.

But it's the best he can do, so Danny sets course for Gotham and hopes that just this once, everything will work out.

9.

Meeting the Bats of Gotham is a lot harder than he expected.

A week in the city and he's barely caught more than a glimpse of them. He can't dedicate a lot of time to tracking them down either, needing to break into grocery stores to get food for him and Ellie.

She's so quiet as a baby, and it terrifies him. She's only cried twice the entire time he's had her, and Danny spends every day begging her to hold on.

Time during the day is spent catching naps and researching common vigilante spotting areas in Gotham. He's got a map of Gotham taken from a library and has been steadily marking it up, putting stars in the best places to find a Bat. There are places all over the city, and Danny has no idea how to know which ones are the best.

The only thing he can do is wait at a different rooftop each night, clinging to Ellie, wondering if this is the last night he has with her.

On the ninth night, someone finally arrives.

"Step away from the edge," a voice demands.

Danny turns to see Robin approaching, hands held out as if to catch him. He's bigger than Danny was expecting. Which makes sense; most of the stories Danny got online are from when Robin was a kid, and it's been a few years since then. He must be a teenager now. Older, but still young.

"Robin," he manages to say, his throat tightening. It feels almost like there's a noose around it. It feels like that meta-suppressing cuff has clicked back into place, leaving him helpless.

"Step away from the edge," Robin repeats. "There is no need for this to be your last resort."

"But it is," Danny whispers.

Robin darts forward and wraps a hand around Danny's wrist, yanking him towards the center of the roof. "Why on Earth would you come up here? Surely you must have known that someone would stop you."

"Batman," he gets out. "I need to speak to Batman."

"What for?"

"I'm… I was told, once, that I'm his son."

10. Robin stares at him for a long moment.

Then he takes off his mask.

Danny knows those eyes: he sees them every time he looks in a mirror.

"Danyal," Robin breathes. "You died before I was born."

"I did. Are you…?"

"Mother told me about you."

So he has a little brother. If only he hadn't left first chance he got, he could have known his little brother, gotten away from that place before it hurt him too. Danny has made many mistakes since he arrived in this world. Missing a little brother is perhaps the worst of them.

"Mother…" Danny repeats. "She put me in the Lazarus Pit. I remember that. She didn't want me to die."

"I was born to replace you."

Just like Ellie.

So many mistakes repeating. He's never felt like more of a failure.

"Batman. Our father. He treats you well? You are safe with him?"

Robins brows furrow, but he nods, which is enough for Danny. "Yes. Of course. Isn't that why you're here now?"

"I'm not asking for me." Danny carefully, gently, unwraps Ellie. "I'm asking for her. Please, take care of her. She deserves more than I can give her. Ellie… she'd be your niece."

Robin's eyes are wide. He's frozen until Danny pushes Ellie against his chest, forcing him to lift his arms to hold her.

"Wait, what about—?"

When Robin looks up, Danny's already gone.

It's for the best.

(masterpost for all parts)

[simpxxstan]

favourite

pairing: boss!wonwoo x model!mingyu x f.reader

genre: smut, slowburn, poly!relationship

summary: after being happily single for years, when you develop a crush, you don't know what to do. you think your closest friend (with benefits) can take your mind off things. but when you ask for his help, you certainly didn't imagine this kind of help from him.

word count: 15k words

rating: NSFW 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE!!!

warnings: mentions of workplace sexism, minor sugar daddy x sugar baby dynamics, fwb dynamics, wonwoo and mingyu are both depicted as bisexual in this story and this does not imply anything from real life, asymmetric power dynamics (boss and employee), open relationship (not really but-), slight possessiveness, minor age gap (wonwoo is four years older than reader and mingyu).

smut warnings: sub!mingyu, dom!wonwoo, switch!reader, threesome, sir kink, usage of petnames (baby, pretty baby, darling, love, baby boy, doll), praise kink, degradation kink, minor (?) objectification, heavy descriptive mlm action, anal sex, usage of butt plug and cock ring, use of lube, orgasm denial, unprotected sex (pls do not do this irl), oral sex (m. receiving, f. receiving), nipple play (with both male and female), usage of traffic light system during sex, spanking, usage of degrading petnames (cockslut, whore, plaything), spitroasting, squirting, multiple sex scenes, PLEASE LMK IF I MISS OUT ON SOMETHING.

a/n: does anyone know how to get out of corporate!wonwoo brainrot? if yes, pls pls pls lmk i need it ^^ comments, reblogs, and feedback are so so much appreciated!! would love to hear your thoughts on this dynamic so beloved to me- i have some headcanons in mind too, could share if anyone wants!

(i)

You slowly sip the whisky on your glass, on the rocks, the liquid burning through your chest. You embrace the burn, as your mind wanders away from the beautiful night skyline in front of you. It’s been a couple of hours since you’ve returned home, the night edging towards midnight, but you can’t get it out of your mind. 

You can’t get him out of your mind. 

His voice, his scent, even hearing his footsteps give you sheer goosebumps. 

God, you thought you were better than this. After spending so many years in the ruthless corporate world, you pride yourself on becoming a woman made of steel. Nothing affected you anymore. Disobedient juniors? Your reputation of being the most unforgiving boss in the entire building has permeated to everyone in the industry. Sexism? There’s a rumour that you once stabbed your stiletto into the hand of a man trying to grab your ass, and since then, no one’s dared to look down at you for being a woman. Disrespectful bosses? They knew better than to get their top employee against them, especially when you had a record of toppling over bosses and taking their position sheerly through merit. 

It hadn’t been easy. Fighting into the corporate world as a woman with no contacts and no fancy universities on your CV had been tough, but it had made you strong enough to not let anything faze you anymore. It certainly helped that you were not interested in anything except your career, so you had every reason to keep fighting on without giving up. It also helped that you were married to your work- the way you regularly return home late, even in your tenth year at the company, was testimony to that fact. 

And yet, he had managed to faze you. Your face grows red with shame just thinking about how your heart and body reacted when you see him, and you take another hurried gulp from your glass, eager to divert your mind away. 

The door unlocks itself. 

“You came.” You turn around in your swivel chair to see a tall man, wearing a long black trench coat enter your house, his cap and sunglasses not giving away any of his face. But you know damn well who it is. 

“You called. You never call first unless it’s urgent.”

Mingyu steps out of the shadows, taking away his coat, cap and sunglasses, and you see that he’s wearing a fancy blue button down with jeans. 

“Did you have a schedule before this?”

“Yes. Y/N, please tell me you have something to eat, I’m famished. I’ve been eating nothing but chicken breast for the last week because of this shoot today, but now I’m ready to break my diet. Do you have ramen?”

He makes himself at home in your open kitchen, as you watch on from your prime spot next to long glass windows which make up the wall of your living room. There are dim lights on, but Mingyu looks perfect even like this. “Of course I have ramen. Can you make some for me too?” 

“Sure, I’ll add eggs too. I’m really hungry.” You smile at the way Mingyu quickly found his way through your house. This isn’t the first time he’s cooking in your kitchen, and you hope it won’t be the last time certainly. 

You finish your glass and walk up to him, just as he’s pouring out the ramen into two bowls. “Thank you for the food, Mingyu.” You sit on the kitchen counter and he pulls up the stool next to you, your bare legs hanging next to him. He pecks your cheek, before handing you chopsticks and the two of you instantly begin inhaling the ramen which is made just perfectly. You’re silent while eating, and Mingyu finishes first. Once you’re done, he cleans up the dishes too. 

“Mingyu, you’re my guest, stop doing all the work.” You swing your legs over the counter, and pull his hand until he’s locked in between your two legs. His hands land over your shoulders, and you lean in to kiss him, but he pulls away-

“Wash your mouth, baby. And wait for me in the bedroom.” You make a face, not looking forward to waiting because you want him now. He seems to read your mind, so he continues, “I won’t even take 2 minutes.”

So you do wash your mouth, brush your teeth too and dab some serum on your face.

“What happened that you had to call?” Mingyu comes and stands behind you in the ensuite bathroom, his face in your neck as he inhales your scent. 

“I can’t call my friend from time to time?”

His giggles are warm against your bare skin. “Y/N, as much as I love you, you know it wasn’t just a call. Although I don’t mind,” he carefully begins to untie the straps at your shoulders, “you know I am always at your service,” then he lets the dress drop to your feet, and places his hands on your hips, his gaze scanning you through the mirror. You’re not wearing anything underneath, and it’s a treat for his eyes. 

You turn around before he can touch you where he really wants to. 

“I know we stopped after you…”

“God, don’t make it sound so sad. You know my boyfriend is okay with this.”

“Yes I know, but I thought it was a matter of principles?” 

Mingyu’s canines are out as he giggles. “Darling, you do know what an open relationship means?”

You sigh. “I don’t know how you do it. Do you not get jealous? Does he not get jealous? Of me?”

Mingyu doesn’t say anything, bending down to kiss on the sensitive spots of your neck. “He does, sometimes. And then, he fucks me hard enough to remind me who I come home to, after all.” You shudder against his touch. “So, please Y/N. Don’t hesitate.” 

He stops kissing you as you take his face in your hands, feeling the smooth skin under your nails. The hunger in his eyes, softened by his affection for you, are all the confirmation you need.

_

Mingyu is, for all his height and glory, no dom. He’s a service top at best. But you like it better if he’s pinned underneath you, squirming against the way your nails tease his nipples, his cockring tight, as you ride him, gifting yourself with endless orgasms. His hands are tied up above his head, leaving his arms left bare for you to savour. So you do so, biting, licking and sucking his arms which seem to have grown since the last time you did this, although admittedly, that was over six months ago. You know Mingyu is especially sensitive at his nipples, so at least one of your hands never leave his chest, holding on to the rock-hard muscle for both support and also to keep him down. Even with his hands tied, he’s strong enough to flip you over, but you know it’s not really necessary. With the way he’s drooling all over your pillows and begging you with his soft, puppy eyes, to let him cum once, you don’t think he’s aware of just how strong he is. 

“Baby’s doing so well, hmm?” You whisper into his ear, leaning down to hear his moans and whimpers clearer. “Can you give me one more orgasm? Do you want to?” He nods feverishly, but you gently tap his lips. “I want words, pretty baby. Colour?” But he still doesn’t reply. So you sit up, and lift your body away from where you’re seated on his cock, wondering if you’re doing something wrong. But he instantly thrashes his feet and words come flowing out. “No! I’m sorry- all green, I swear.” “I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard-” “No! Y/N, please. Just zoned out for a second. Please. Green.” So you gently push his cock back inside, still red, weeping and imaginably hard. 

“Can you give me one more? Mingyu? You’re doing so well.”

“Yes! Yes I can!” He moves his head forward, and you kiss him. Softly, unlike how you’re bouncing on him. The kiss is sloppy, leaving strings of spit between your mouths, but that’s how Mingyu likes it, you know. You also know he likes your tits, so you sit up, and let his mouth fall to your breasts. And he devours them, like a hungry man. Sloppily licking, kissing and sucking at your nipples, until they’re swollen. 

And when you cum again, your warmth floods Mingyu’s still-erect cock, his head lolls, eyes rolling back, as you feel spent and tired. “Baby, you did so well. So good for me. You were made for me, I think. Made to give me heavenly orgasms,” you see the way his gaze becomes unfocused at all the praise. He eagerly kisses you, moaning when you suck his lip too hard, all while you untie the knot of his hands. When his hands are finally free, he gently flips you over into the bed. 

“Let me clean you up-” you offer. But he shakes his head, pushing you down on the bed now, as he bends down towards your stomach. In spite of the five orgasms of the night, a spike of arousal shoots through you, as you realise what’s going to happen. 

“I want my dessert, Y/N. Let me worship you for being so patient with your good boy all night. Please? Haven’t I been a good boy? ”

And he has been a good boy. Such a good boy, the way his skillful tongue laps all over your ruined, messy folds, licking the remnants of your cum still in you, and making out with your pussy. He drives you on the verge of overstimulation, so you yank his hair up and remove his face from your cunt. 

“Let me take off your cock ring. You’ve been such a good boy. Cum with me as you eat me out?” It’s too good of a reward for him to not smile widely, his canines out and his eyes bright. He doesn’t care that he has to rut against the bed to chase his high. He does it fast, just how fast his tongue moves in your cunt, and he holds back to time it such that you both reach your climax at the same time, and you’re moaning out loud. 

“Wonwoo!” 

You don’t realise that Mingyu hears that too, as you pass out for a long second after squirting all over Mingyu’s face.

_

That night doesn’t end there. There are quick breaks from time to time, but it goes on until you’re positively sure the first rays of the sun are coming up in the sky, and you both are tired as fuck. Spent, wasted and high on all the hormones, you snuggle into Mingyu’s warm body, as he cages you into him with one arm on your side. His cock is finally flaccid after going all night long, and your body is too sore to move. It’s just a miracle that Mingyu smells good even after all night. 

“Who was that whose name you called out earlier?” 

Fuck. You’d forgotten about that.

At least Mingyu doesn’t sound mad. He just sounds mildly amused, and a little curious. You purse your lips and turn up to face him. Well, it would come out sometime or the other. And better if you admit your secret first to Mingyu than anyone else. At least you don’t feel that embarrassed in front of him, because of how you’ve both been friends. 

“My new boss.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. Was appointed a month ago. He used to manage the overseas operations first, but apparently he’s been wanting to come back and settle down for a permanent position here for a long time. Six months earlier, he shifted back with a temporary position to headquarters, and our CEO was so impressed with him, he got promoted to our branch as the Director.”

“And you like him?” Mingyu’s voice has a lilt to it, as if he finds it a bit funny. 

He might as well. You yourself find it funny. “I- I don’t know. I think I’m a little infatuated with him? Fuck, Mingyu, this is so embarrassing but-”

“It’s not embarrassing. Even if you’re all steel outside, I know you’ve got a soft core. And who will you admit crushes to if not to a friend?”

You gently slap his chest, and he laughs. “You’re mocking me.”

“Am not. It is a crush, or is it more?”

“God, no! He doesn’t even know I like him. I mean I hope he doesn’t. It would be so embarrassing. God, I’m going to lose the entire image I’ve made in front of my peers and subordinates!”

“Why? Does he make you act irrationally?”

“Oh so irrationally. He makes me distracted during meetings. He makes my mind wander during work. I’ve lost focus, and I’ve lost my concentration. One time he put his hand on my thighs, and I swear I got wet. I don’t even get that wet during foreplay usually!” 

Mingyu bursts out laughing. “Y/N, I think this is a pretty bad case. I’ve never seen you have this kind of an infatuation in all the eight years that we have been friends.”

You nod. You know that well enough. 

“But the question is, why don’t you make a move on him? Why only hide? Is he married?”

“Nah. It’s worse. He’s not into women.”

Mingyu shifts a bit, turning his head towards you. “Are you sure?”

“He has a boyfriend. And as far as his record goes, he’s never dated a woman. Always rejected advances from females.”

Mingyu hums, before wrapping an arm around your waist. “But a girl can dream, hmm?”

“Don’t mock me, Mingyu! I called you here to get my mind off him but…”

“But you still called out his name when you came.” There’s a smirk on his lips. “What’s his name, you said?”

“Wonwoo. Jeon Wonwoo.”

In the darkness of the night, you don’t notice Mingyu’s smirk widening, because you’re too busy yawning. And as soon as you close your eyes, basking in Mingyu’s warmth, you’re out like a light.

_

(ii) 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Miss Y/L/N, I’ve spoken to my secretary to rearrange your schedule to accommodate the trip to Tokyo. Have you checked it?” Wonwoo asks you in the weekly meeting, and you have no option but to recollect your calm as you reply, because everybody’s watching. “I have, Sir. But I have to tell you, I hardly have any experience in dealing with international investments-” 

“Then this is the perfect opportunity for you to get that experience.” His eyes are cold and fixed on yours, glaring at you from across the table. His gelled hair lifted off his forehead reveals slightly furrowed eyebrows. 

You bite your lip. Any other time and you would jump on the opportunity. But this time, you have to hesitate because you’re afraid you’ll jump your boss on the trip and that would be enough to end your career then and there. But you have a point to prove, especially to the seven other men sitting on the same table. Even in the bright sunlight of the morning in the boardroom, their eyes glint like wolves, waiting for you to make the slightest mistake. They’re waiting for Wonwoo to disapprove of you, so that they can remove the single infiltrator in their male-dominated corporate world. 

“Then I won’t disappoint you, Sir.” Wonwoo nods curtly. “Miss Y/L/N, please meet me in my office after the lunch break.” You nod and take his leave as the meeting comes to an end. 

Fuck. Less than two days left for the trip, and somehow your confidence has weakened already. You take a seat in your office, staring at your open computer screen, wondering what has come over you. It’s shocking just how much your mind has started behaving and reacting to everything Wonwoo does or says. He’s just four years older than you, but there’s something in his aura which has you second-guessing your every move. Perhaps it's the way he dresses in nothing but the darkest shades of black every day. Perhaps it’s his horn-rimmed glasses, which do nothing to soften his piercing gaze. Perhaps it’s the way there are rumours floating about, but nothing seems to disturb him. In the three weeks you’ve met him, you’ve never seen him lose control even for a second. Not one loud voice, not one expression of unease, not one flicker of anger. In all of your life, you’ve never met a man with such force of character. Character that does not divert, that does not decrease. It intrigues you and excites you in equal parts. 

You don’t bother to knock because Wonwoo’s blinds are up and his eyes have been on you since you left your own cabin to walk to his office. 

“Sir?”

“Have a seat, please.”

So you do, but he stands up. He comes around the desk to sit on the desk next to you, and his scent engulfs you. Your body has an almost Pavlovian reaction to it- every time you smell his cologne mixed with his naturally masculine scent, you feel intoxicated. The hairs on the end of your skin have risen, as his eyes never leave yours. 

“There’s a document on this tablet. I will send it to your email as well. Take a good look at it, I doubt you’ll face any difficulties at the conference in Tokyo.”

“I will check it.”

Wonwoo nods. He’s a man of few words. You secretly think he does it on purpose, to remain more mysterious, to leave you craving for his voice. 

“How many days will we be away?”

“One. We’ll be back the next day in the evening. The conference is going to take up your whole day, but you’ll have some time to yourself, if you want.”

“I’ve been to Tokyo before, so I don’t particularly want to sightsee. I’ll treat it as a paid vacation,” you smile, before standing up. “Is there anything else you want to talk about, Sir?”

He doesn’t smile. “Sit,” there’s a pause, and your breath hitches, “please. I also want to talk about your new project. There’s been plenty of talk about the deal with the Spanish, but I want to ensure that it’s a safe source.”

His obsidian eyes burn into you as you sit down again. You couldn’t really deny him when he asked so nicely, could you?

_

If you thought spending all those days in a glass cabin ten metres away from Wonwoo’s office was torture, the trip is absolute hell, with no chance for redemption. This is the first time you’re on the company jet, thanks to Wonwoo. There’s no one else on this trip, except Wonwoo’s secretary, Jeong Yunho, a scarily efficient man who’s been with Wonwoo since before his transfer to your branch. Wonwoo and Yunho seem busy discussing something about the conference, so you stick to your laptop, avoiding eye contact with the man in question. But soon, Yunho leaves the compartment (room? segment?) where you two are sitting (you realise there must be seats beyond the curtain too). 

And then it’s just Wonwoo and you. You keep your eyes on your laptop, although he’s sitting diagonally opposite to you, but oh, the only thing on your mind is him. The way his jaw tightens as he reads something on his tablet. The way his blue trousers fit him like second skin, stretching the right way near his thighs. The way his form-fitted blazer must be custom-tailored because there’s no way a commercially sold blazer would match the proportions of those shoulders and that slim waist. 

Oh, how you envy his boyfriend.

“See something interesting, Miss Y/L/N?” 

Your mouth goes dry when you realise you’ve been staring at him through your side glance, and Wonwoo has caught you in it, without even lifting his eyes once. 

“No, I- I was wondering if you’d taken a look at the other companies interested in this conference.”

He still doesn’t look up. His voice is a dry, lazy drawl, but so sharp it cuts through your skin. “Did you? Was there anything you observed?”

“I did. In fact, I’ve also mailed you a report on them. They’re mainly tech giants spread across the world, looking to expand their investment in the AI market, like us. But they’re also top companies in their respective countries, so I’m a little concerned whether our offer will be enough to secure this deal. I understand that the other potential deals will also be substantial, although the chance of a big difference isn’t much considering the current global recession. There’s been few companies who have picked up pace with as much speed after the pandemic as ours, and I think that’s where our edge lies. But at the same time, I thought it best to warn you that the deal will not be easy. It will be a long, competitive negotiation.”

Wonwoo does look up now. 

“I see you’ve done your research well, Miss Y/L/N. Do send me a portfolio of the other potential investors you’ve found.”

“Noted, will do so.”

“Good girl.”

And then he goes back to whatever he was reading on his phone, leaving your lungs sans air, and your heart racing. You surely didn’t imagine that- and if you hadn’t known better, you’d think he was encouraging the way you were reacting to him. Did he get off on that kind of thing? Knowing he had his employee squirming for him, begging for his attention? 

You excuse yourself to the washroom to take a moment to recuperate. It felt embarrassing and exhilarating at the same time- a feeling you’d never felt yourself, but also a dangerous, forbidden zone of life you’d never explored. Is this how all the men you fucked and didn’t call back feel like when they asked you out on dates? Is this how your sister had felt like when she’d run away from home to marry her professor? Is this how Mingyu felt for his boyfriend?

God, no. This was not happening to you- your mindset, your work spirit, your concentration was not going to be ruined because of one man. You were not, are not that weak. He’s just a man, you tell yourself. At the end of the day, he thinks with his dick. Even if he may not be cishet, he’s probably an enabler or a silent acceptor to sexism and everything you’d fought your entire life for, because how could he have survived in the corporate world for so long?

You wash your face. 

That is it. This is the end to your ‘crush’ or infatuation or whatever the fuck this has been. It’s just hormones, it’s just attraction. Nothing fatal, nothing rare. You know well enough that Jeon Wonwoo has got every female employee in the company swooning after him, so there’s no need for you to think his attention is unique to you. So even if your body may be weak to his charms, your mind is stronger. 

You’re going to fake it till you make it.

_

Your confidence stays pretty much intact throughout the conference, especially when you put on your femme fatale face the moment you set your foot in Tokyo. It’s a city that really calls to you- with its modernity settled neatly in its heritage, nature and nightlife, it’s one of the cities in the world that you really admire. And you feel like you’ve come home, because the city truly is made for you. Fast-paced and unstoppable. 

And so, you take your mind off Wonwoo and focus only on your work. You ignore the way he insists you sit next to him through the conference, you ignore his hot, raspy whispers in your ears whenever he wants to tell you something, you ignore the way his eyes never leave your figure even during lunch when you’re free to mingle with everyone, you ignore the way he’s booked connected rooms for the two of you at the hotel. You ignore the way he’s the first to applaud when your presentation at the conference is complete, you ignore the way he insists on introducing you to every big shot at the dinner party after the conference, you ignore the way he doesn’t leave your side through the night. 

And in spite of your astute ignoring, you know you’re fucking lying to yourself. And even if you can hide your heart to the world, you can’t hide it to yourself. You cannot ignore the way your panties are just a tad bit sticky by the end of the night, you cannot ignore the way his smell lingers on your skin because you’ve spent the entire day beside him, you cannot ignore the way your body is running on overdrive and you absolutely need to cool yourself down. Your shower is not enough, so you head down to the swimming pool, with a bloody mary in your hands and lounge near the shallow end of the swimming pool in your skimpiest shorts and tank top because you didn’t bring a bikini. 

Your eyes are shut, your head leaning against the metal rails near the pool, so you don’t notice how the other guests at the swimming pool dissipate and you’re lying there as it gets later in the night. 

When you open your eyes again, feeling calmer after spending an hour in the water, Wonwoo stands in front you. He’s changed from his three-piece suit to a casual tank top and sweatpants tied low at his hips, a beanie over his hair, and for the first time, you have a clear view of his collarbones and the way his arms and chest are undulated with muscles. 

Is this appropriate boss-employee interaction?

There’s no time to wonder, because Wonwoo sits down on a chair behind him, his eyes still on you. 

“Relaxing after that long day?”

Oh, he’s really here to make conversation with you, is he?

“If I’m staying in a seven-star property, might as well treat it like a vacation.” You smirk. This is your third cocktail of the night, so you’re feeling slightly heady. It doesn’t help that the cold night is making your nipples pebble over the water. 

“You did so well today. Did not disappoint,” Wonwoo hums as his eyes rake over your figure. You gently sip down the rest of the cocktail, before placing it on the side and floating over closer to him. “Really? You think so?” “So good. Everyone was so impressed. Someone even asked me if you were looking to shift jobs somewhere else.” You smile. “Did they, now? What did you say?” You know this is tipping away from your professional relationship, the way you’re swinging your hips as you get up from the pool. It’s definitely a violation of professionalism, when you walk right up to him, ignoring the water droplets dripping behind you, and bend almost over him to retrieve a towel from a stack behind him. There’s a warm current of passion running through your veins when you see the way his tongue sticks out slightly to lick his lips as he unabashedly checks your figure out as your thin clothes cling to your body. When you finally wrap the towel around your body to soak up the drip, he replies, “Why? Are you looking to shift away? Is our company not enough?” “I don’t know, sometimes it can get boring.” You harden yourself to not whimper at the way his gaze pins you, forbids you from moving. There’s a long pause, before he stands up and replies, “Then, as your boss, it’s my responsibility to ensure you stay. Make sure there’s enough spice in your job to keep up your interest. Wouldn’t want to lose my best girl a month into the job, would I?” 

Fuck. He’s got you. Your heart skips a beat as you think of a quip to reply with, but you can’t. My best girl. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

He smirks when you don’t respond, you jaw slightly agape. 

“Goodnight, Miss Y/L/N. Don’t sleep in till late. We have a meeting at 8.”

_

Because you have some time until your company’s jet is scheduled to depart, so you’re roaming through the duty-free stores. You’re walking out of a chocolate store when you notice Mingyu’s life-sized poster, modelling for Calvin Klein. You smile and grab your phone to take a quick photo, before admiring the advertisement. It must be a recent shoot, because his hair is cropped short like you noticed when he last came over. His muscles look well defined in the photograph, where he’s posing shirtless with a single black tie tied loosely to his neck, and black jeans hung low on his lips. There’s a wildly sensual look in his eyes, as if begging to be taken as you pleased, and it makes you smirk. Now you have something more to tease him for, when you meet him the next time. 

“Pretty, isn’t he?” You haven’t realised when Wonwoo’s sidled up to your side, and you notice a Bulgari bag in his hands. So that’s where he’s been shopping while you were busy browsing through chocolates. Wonwoo’s eyes are fixed on the poster in front of you, an appreciative glint in his eyes. 

“Pretty indeed. For as long as I remember him.” 

Wonwoo turns to look at you, his eyebrow raised. “Are you a fan? Or a friend?” “The latter. Mingyu and I have been friends since high school.” “How interesting.” Eager to impress him, you elaborate, “I was the one who pushed him to get into modelling. Couldn’t have let looks like that slip, could I?” Wonwoo chuckles. “Indeed not. I’m sure many must thank you, including myself.” 

Wonwoo takes out a small box from the bag he’s carrying. Opening the box, you see there’s a bracelet inside. Set with at least sixty 24k diamonds. It makes your mouth water and your eyes shine, and you cannot help but envy his boyfriend, if he’s the one on the receiving end of such gifts. “What do you think?

You wonder if it’s too personal a question, but you’re also sure a lot of lines between professional and personal have gotten blurred over this trip. So you bravely ask him, “Is that for your boyfriend?” 

Wonwoo doesn’t show any sign of displeasure, if he feels it. His eyes still focused on Mingyu’s poster on the glowing display in front of you, he says, “Hmm. Do you think it’ll suit him?” 

Your throat goes dry. If he’s bought it for his boyfriend, why are his eyes fixed on Mingyu? But you don’t think about it. Mingyu’s looks are, after all, captivating. 

“I’m sure it will. He’s very lucky to be receiving such a pretty gift. He must be really precious to you.” You laugh lightly, trying to hide the bile of jealousy rising in your throat. 

Wonwoo puts away the gift. “He is, indeed.” His eyes now shift to yours. “Any favourite of mine is bound to be the most precious to me. And worthy of the prettiest of gifts, whatever they want.” 

You fight the blush creeping into your cheeks, trying to stop your heart from racing on. This is ridiculous. Why on earth are you getting into your feels when he’s clearly thinking and talking about his lover? God, Y/N, get a grip on yourself. He’s not yours, and by the look of love and yearning on his face, he never will be. 

It’s his voice that breaks you out of your trance. “Miss Y/L/N? The jet’s arrived. Don’t wanna miss it, do we?” You can’t help but nod dumbly and walk behind him to keep pace.

_

(iii)

After the trip, everything goes back to what it was earlier. To the outsider, that is. But you know that behind closed doors, so much has changed. It doesn’t have to be something tangible, but there’s something different in the way you’re behaving around each other. For one, you notice him checking you out more than once, and the fact that you’re catching him in the act means that he intends to be caught. He’s more reckless in the way he talks to you. More reckless in the way he picks you out to lead projects, asks you exclusively to accompany him to conferences and clients he’s meeting, wishing you good morning by looking you straight in the eye even when all eyes in the office are on him. 

But then the rumours begin. Favouritism. Must be sucking his cock under his desk. 

And it kills you. It poisons any joy you could enjoy under his attention. You’ve made it a point to not just avoid, but also fight against any such rumours about you, because you don’t want anyone else to get credit for your hard work and success, especially not a man. But you don’t want to confront him about this. For the first time, you know these rumours are absolutely false, because you know he couldn’t have any bad intentions towards you- a man who’s so loud and proud about having a boyfriend and has never even had a rumour with any woman before this, could not be looking for sexual favours. So you quietly keep your distance from him. Trying to finish work over emails instead of meeting him in his office. Trying to avoid eye contact and sit at least half the table away from him during meetings. You don’t want to embarrass him with these rumours, and you certainly hope the rumours haven’t reached his ears. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon, I won't be able to accompany you to this meeting with the Chois. I’m not feeling well tonight, and I really would like to go home and rest.” You keep a straight face when he comes to your cabin asking you if you’re ready to leave with him. His back is towards the rest of the office, so he misses the way everyone looks up from their work to look at the two of you.

“Unwell? You should’ve told me earlier. I would have cancelled the dinner meeting tonight.”

“No, of course you don’t need to do that on my account, Sir!”

He shakes his head, one gelled lock of hair falling into his eyes. “How do you travel home?”

“I have my car.”

“And a chauffeur, I hope?”

“No, I drive myself.”

“Well, then Yunho’s going to drive you home tonight. You’re in no a state to drive home yourself if you’re feeling unwell.”

Your eyes widen, “No- I don’t want to impose. How are you going to go to the meeting, then? You’ll need Yunho with you.”

He narrows his eyes, his gaze piercing. “You underestimate me. I do not need anybody for a meeting with a client. Especially not a secretary.”

You maintain his gaze. “But I don’t want to inconvenience you on my behalf.”

“I will be more inconvenienced if I worry about you going home alone in this state.”

God. Who’s gonna tell the man that you’re in the fucking pink of your health and you don’t need him to fuss over you like this? Maybe you should’ve just gone with him to the dinner, because this is going to create more fodder for rumours. But you can’t argue any more with him, he’s too stubborn. 

“Alright. If that’s what you want.”

His lips tilt upward at the edge. “Good. Take tomorrow off too.”

“No-”

“That was not a suggestion, Miss Y/L/N. Don’t disobey me.”

And then he turns around and walks out of your cabin, leaving you speechless, and at least ten pairs of eyes staring at you. You can only hope the thin glass walls of your cabin prevented the conversation from floating out.

_

You must really be married to your work, because one day off and you’re fucking losing it. You realise, as you wake up at six in the morning, like any other work day, that you’ve not taken a single day off this year. The last time you took leave was last year when you’d visited your parents. You can’t even fall asleep again, which is awful because you slept fitfully last night. Because of him. He invaded your dreams, leaving you sweaty under the blanket, and an uncomfortable wetness between your thighs. But you still get out of your bed, intent on making it through the day, and not becoming unproductive. 

All your work is completed within the next three hours, so by the time people your age are actually waking up on a holiday, you’re sitting on your sofa feeling listless because you have nothing to do. There’s no new books you need to read, no new recipe you want to try out. You don’t really watch movies or dramas. You ask Spotify to play a random song for you, but it turns out to be a sex song trending right now. The moans in the background of the track don’t help. The lyrics about someone older clutching your throat while taking you to heaven also don’t help. You turn off the song immediately, and again fall back on your couch, debating whether you should go out for a jog in this cooler weather, when your phone dings. 

It’s a photo from Mingyu. When you open it, you burst out laughing at the caption. It’s just a picture of him eating a cupcake, but the caption says I feel like I might die if I eat this. Seemingly normal to anyone else, it’s incredibly funny to you because it’s a red velvet cupcake. And you both swore on red velvet cupcakes back in high school that you’d be best friends forever. 

You type back, You’re still my best friend.

You can see that he’s started typing, but then he stops. A second later, your phone rings. 

“People don’t go MIA on their best friends for weeks. I would not know even if you lay murdered in your apartment. In fact, no one would know. Not even your family or the police.”

“Well, I haven’t been murdered in my apartment. I’ll ask the murderer to let you know if they do murder me.”

He groans. “Don’t mess with me. Why are you checking messages and answering calls so early in the morning?”

“You have a problem with me checking your texts too?” You giggle.

“No, Y/N, I’m just- I don’t know, worried. Did you resign because of your boss?”

“God I could, actually. He forced me to take a leave today because I told him I was sick last night to avoid going on a meeting with him.”

“You lied to him and got a leave? That’s a win in my books, love.” He cackles, and you wish you could laugh with him.  

“Not if it fuels rumours of favouritism, Gyu.”

He sighs. “Oh fuck. Not that shit again. But, really, are you well?”

“No. I’m just horny and mad, both because of Wonwoo.”

“Do you want to rant?”

“I could do with a ranting session. But are you free?”

“I am, the entire day. I could come over. And you could sit on my face and rant. How does that sound?”

You giggle as a spike of arousal shoots through you. “Sounds like my best friend.”

_

Mingyu arrives half an hour later, a little bit of stubble on his jawline. As soon as he steps into your apartment, you pull him to yourself, grabbing his collar, and he smiles against your lips as you press a kiss against his jaw, eager to feel the stubble against your lips. “God, you’re really horny, hmm? Did you touch yourself while I was coming?” He flips you and pins you against the wall, his hands straying down to your breasts as he finds your nipple already hardened. “I did, what took you so long?” “Didn’t know office traffic is so bad. I don’t get out of my house this early, you know?” You hum against his lips, his warm cherry lips which taste like iced americano and the red velvet cupcake he had earlier. “Let’s get you back to bed then, baby.” He pulls away and giggles, “You’re so impatient, Y/N.” But he follows you to the bedroom, as you tug him away. On the way he pulls off your top and shorts, and he lies down first in your bed. “C’mere. Give me a taste of that red velvet, baby.” 

Oh, he looks good. Your mind goes back to the first time the two of you had fucked, back in your college dorms. You’d been so heartbroken that day- your crush had turned you down after one date because he’d wanted to have sex, but when you’d told him you were a virgin, he’d laughed at you and left you midway through the date. But Mingyu, forever your cheerleader, had shown you that you’d fallen for the wrong guy. When he’d gone down on you, giving you your life’s first orgasm using his tongue, you’d seen stars. You deserve the best, Y/N-ie. He’d left you speechless when he’d begun thrusting inside you, nothing on your mind except him and just how perfect he was, and how you were such a fool to not have realised it before. I love you, Mingyu. He’d smiled, the post-nut glow on his golden face, I love you too, Y/N.

But you were late. Mingyu started dating someone else within a week. And you’d suppressed your feelings forever, as you realised they were not mutual. You were better off as best friends, even better as best friends with benefits. You didn’t want to lose him. 

Those feelings right in your throat again, right now, as he pulls you on top of him and kisses you gently. You’re moaning his name as he pulls you on your face in one go, kissing your thighs, his breath heavy on your core where he’s purposely not touching, leaving you whiny. But you’ve had enough of his teasing, so you tug his hair and pull him towards your bare pussy. 

He dives in headfirst, and you grab the headboard as a scream escapes your throat. His tongue laps up your juices, and you see the way he sniffs your pussy, making you clench as his tongue enters you gently. “God, you’re such a tease, baby. Making me forget what I wanted to say.” You tug harder at his hair as he licks faster, and you grind down on his nose. He alternates between flattening his tongue at your clit and using his tongue to thrust into your cunt, already loose from your arousal. But his technique is top notch- just the way it was back in college, when twenty-year old nerdy you had lost your virginity to him. And you climax within a few minutes, your essence coating his smooth face, making his skin shine. 

When you look down at him, his eyes fixed on you, he places a soft kiss on your folds, before whispering, “I thought you wanted to rant.” 

You push yourself down on him, waiting for him to continue eating you out, but he moves his lips away. Clearly he wants you to start talking before he restarts. So you do start. 

“Do you know I went on a trip with my boss?”

“Mmhm? Did not know that. What happened?” You forget your words for a second as Mingyu’s raspy voice sends shocks through your body. You have a wild urge to tug his face away from your cunt just to punish him, but you can’t help but give in to him. 

“He…”

_

“Do you want to go out tonight?”

“Tonight?” You’re opening your mouth less because your jaw still hurts from how wide it stretched to deepthroat Mingyu’s cock earlier. You’d forgotten how much of a monster it was, but it was nice to be reminded again. Especially when he came all over your tits and licked it all off you, turning you on again because of how he eagerly nipped at your nipples. But you’re too sore to get up now, so you’re both casually lying across each other as you surf through work emails on your phone and Mingyu watches something on YouTube. 

“Yes?” He props his head up on his elbow and looks down at you. 

“Tonight?”

“You heard me the first time.”

“I did, but I’m buying time to make up an excuse against it.”

He laughs and kisses you on the corner of your mouth. 

“If you don’t want to come out, then you can just tell me.”

“But I should be wanting to go out. I am free all day today, and it should be technically fun. Help me get my mind farther away from Wonwoo if I can snag a date.”

“Hell no. You’ll be my date. Think I’ll let another man flirt with you when I’m taking you out?”

You take a deep breath before looking away from your phone and looking up at him. You notice how pretty his red lips look, and how much you want to kiss him. How hard it is right now to remember that he has a boyfriend, and all this- whatever fragments of intimacy you get- is because his boyfriend is miraculously accepting of Mingyu fucking you and then going back to him. You’d never understand it, even though Mingyu’s said multiple times that it’s totally fine, but you won’t judge him for it. You take what you get and you won’t complain. 

So you take one hand and cup Mingyu’s jaw to pull him down. 

“Let’s go out this weekend, then? I need at least one business day to mentally prepare myself.” 

He kisses you as your breath mingles with his. “Whatever you want, baby.”

_

(iv)

You step out of the elevator dangling your car keys on your fingers when you notice a strangely familiar car pulled up in front of your own smaller car. The window rolls down.

“Mr. Jeon?” Your mouth gapes in shock, when the man gives you that characteristic smirk of his, which is reflected more in his eyes than in his lips. “Good morning. Are you sure you’re well enough to be attending work today? I’m okay with you taking another day off.” Your eyes widen, as you wonder for a second if he’s caught your lie, but then you quickly regain composure. “No Sir, I’m feeling perfectly fit. I’ll drive myself, so there was no need for you to come all the way here-” “No, no. Yunho will drive us to work.” 

He steps out of his seat, opening the door for you to enter the car. When you hesitantly take a step forward and are on the verge of entering the car, he says, his voice an octave lower, “You are of top priority, do you not realise, Miss Y/L/N?” With the way his gaze is trained on you, and with him coming all the way to your doorstep for no reason at all, you do somewhat realise now. But why he’s doing it is going all over your head. So you wordlessly enter the car’s backseat, and he joins you from the other side. 

The journey is spent in silence, but you can feel the way his eyes flicker to glance at you through the back view mirror. The company car is comfortable in every way possible, and Yunho is a great driver, but you still can’t breathe through the entire journey because you’re on your toes. You quietly regret wearing a pencil skirt with a slit reaching up to your knees, because as you sit in the car, the slit rides up to your thighs and you have goosebumps all over. You can just hope that Wonwoo doesn’t notice. 

The two of you entering the office together doesn’t do anything to reduce the rumours. There are even more eyes staring at the two of you now, but you realise it’s a futile effort to try and quash the rumours. People will gossip if they want to, even if there’s no grounds for their gossip. So you let Wonwoo walk you down to your cabin, and before leaving he tells you to check your schedule. “I will, Sir. Have any changes been made? I have just one video conference today in the evening as far-” “Yes, you’ll be accompanying me to lunch today. There’s a follow-up meeting with the Chois, so I want you to be there.” And then he doesn’t wait for you to reply before he struts out of your cabin.

Wow. Lunch too. Now you really can’t stop the rumours.

_

Thankfully, lunch is a solemn affair. You’re too busy looking at figures and prospective business plans for the success of your collaboration with the Chois to question why Wonwoo insists you sit as far away from Choi Seungcheol, the CEO of Choi Enterprises, as possible. So you end up sitting next to him, and there’s nobody else at the table except Yunho and Mr. Choi’s assistant. As the food gets served, you get started with the short presentation you prepared on your way to the lunch meeting, but Wonwoo quickly places a hand on your exposed thigh and stops you from speaking. “Let’s enjoy the lunch first, shall we? Seungcheol doesn’t need to be convinced any more, Miss Y/L/N.” Your lip twists when you wonder why Mr. Jeon is on first name basis with Mr. Choi, but Seungcheol quickly tells you the reason. “We’re old friends, Miss Y/L/N. We’re not here to discuss business, are we, Wonwoo? We’re just here to enjoy a meal at our favourite restaurant.” Wonwoo chuckles, and you open your mouth to say something, but his hand on your thigh squeezes once before moving away, as he whispers slowly in your ear, “Relax for a minute, Miss Y/L/N. You don’t have to always work your pretty brain all the time. Just enjoy the meal.”

To say that you’re stunned is an understatement. You don’t understand what’s going on, but there’s an unspoken conversation happening between Wonwoo and Seungcheol, and you don’t end up talking about work throughout the meal. Seungcheol is good enough to make you feel at ease as he asks questions as far away from work as possible. But nothing today seems to be going as expected- starting from the way Wonwoo came to pick you up, to the way his hand touches your exposed thigh more often than necessary. You eventually let it go- not questioning it, but just enjoying the attention, and the lasagna because when else will you eat at such a fine dining restaurant any time soon?

_

Thankfully, the rest of the day and the next passes by in a better fashion, without any unexpected incidents. It’s late on Saturday evening when you’re just finishing your workout at the gym near your apartment that you get a text from Mingyu. Coming to pick you up in an hour. Hope you’re ready to let loose tonight <3 

Fuck, you’d forgotten about your plan about going out with Mingyu. For a minute or two, you debate the pros and cons of cancelling the plan last-minute. But then Mingyu’s whiny, puppy voice flashes in your head as you remember that in the last few months, you’ve cancelled more plans than him, and you’ve only gone out for once in every two months. Fuck it. You deserve to let loose too. You deserve to give a break to your heart and your mind. And you deserve another evening of pure fun with your best friend.

So by the time Mingyu arrives, you’re dressed in a black silk bralette paired with high waist black jeans- the most casual outfit that exists in your wardrobe right now. You tie your hair up, exposing your neck, and wear a simple necklace to finish the look. 

“Damn girl. Did I tell you that you look hot?” Mingyu’s whisper is hot near your ears when he comes to hug you, and you giggle. “You’ve cleaned up well yourself.” That is sarcastic, and he knows it, because the smug look on his face says it all.

When the two of you enter the club, Mingyu’s arm is in yours, and you can see how people perceive the two of you as a couple, wearing matching all-black outfits. You don’t care, wishing to live your fantasy for a moment, and wondering what it really would be like to be Mingyu’s lover. To have him to yourself all the time, without sharing him with a boyfriend you’ve never met, and you probably don’t want to meet. To show him off to all the people in your office who straight up ask you why you don’t date even if you’re not getting any younger. To hold him close all night, his warmth acting like your personal weighted blanket, and not feel the ache in your chest every time he leaves in the morning.

As the first round of shots go down your throat, you head to the dance floor, Mingyu’s hands wrapped around your hips and you two move on your own beat. There are people around you who recognise Mingyu, but he doesn’t even look at them. His eyes are all focused on yours, so you maintain his gaze. Getting lost in his eyes, you want to lean in and kiss him. But it would be inappropriate. It’s one thing to sleep with your best friend in the privacy of your apartment, another thing to kiss him publicly when he has a boyfriend. So you just smile hazily as you stare at him to your heart’s content. If you’re just his dirty little secret, you’ll take it. Mingyu has more than enough love in his heart for you and whoever his mysterious boyfriend might be. You’re satisfied with just a place in his huge, beautiful heart. 

You’re really getting into your feels now, as the songs change to more upbeat songs which you like dancing to. Right then, Mingyu bends down and whispers near your ears, to ensure you hear him. “Y/N-ie? I want you to meet someone.” You look up towards his face, mouthing a silent who, before he whispers again, “Turn around, love.” 

And you do. 

At first, you’re sure it’s an illusion of the flashing lights of the nightclub, increased by the effect of the alcohol running through your veins. But then Mingyu’s voice is again breathy near your ear, “Meet my boyfriend, Jeon Wonwoo.”

Time stops around you.

_

(v)

When you come back to your senses, you’ve somehow moved to one corner against the bar, far away from the din of the dance floor.

The man in front of you smiles, a dazzling, beautiful smile you’ve never seen before, and your head reels. You fall back into Mingyu’s arms, who swiftly catches and steadies you. You can’t believe the sight in front of you. You emit a loud gasp as Mingyu’s touch makes you realise this is, in fact, reality. “Your boyfriend?”

“Hi, sweetheart.” Wonwoo’s voice is unbearably deep, and he’s so close that you can hear him even in the noise of the club. But you still can’t register his presence, so you reach behind to grab onto Mingyu’s hands. “Gyu? Mingyu- is this a joke?” But the man you’re talking to merely giggles and lowers his face near your neck, so that you can feel his cheeks against yours. 

“Mr. Jeon-” Wonwoo takes another step forward, trapping you in between the two men. “Wonwoo, please.” “Oh. Wonwoo- I- I’m sorry-” He smiles, and Mingyu giggles again against you. “Sorry? For what? God, she’s cuter than what you told me, Mingyu.” His eyes flicker to the man behind you before falling to you again. “Mingyu also told me that you have a lot to complain about me?” “No! No, I didn’t mean any of that? Mingyu!” It must look pathetic, how you’re leaning back towards Mingyu and grabbing to his hands from behind you, because you want him to be on your side. But Mingyu indulges you, as he says, “I’m here, baby, I’m here.”

But it’s clearly not enough, so you turn around to see him. “Is this real?” Mingyu’s smile is bright, “Yes, Y/N-ie.” “Why didn’t tell me before?” “What’s the fun in that?” 

It really sinks in for you now. You turn back around, to see Wonwoo still standing there, the gentle smile still on his face. He lifts his hand to touch your hair, then your cheeks and finally cups your jaw. “Do you want to get out of here, Y/N?” God, he even makes your name sound pretty. “Let’s go somewhere where we can talk more, hmm?” You nod your head, “Yes, please.” 

_

That’s how you end up in Mingyu’s car, his long red sedan, which he’s currently racing off the streets of the city, the night air making you sober as you reach Wonwoo’s place, where Mingyu has moved in, as you learn. Through the journey, Wonwoo and Mingyu hold hands over the console, and somehow pieces connect in your more sober mind. Fuck, how did you never consider this possibility before? Bits and pieces from what Mingyu had told you comes back to you now. The boyfriend was initially a sugar daddy sort of thing because he didn’t live in the city- he would come around in between work schedules and pamper and spoil Mingyu for entire weekends or longer, during which Mingyu would not even check his texts. You’d thought it must have been some celebrity guy, if he’s so busy with schedules and so rich. But you were wrong. So, so wrong. Mingyu had officially started dating this boyfriend six months ago, coinciding with exactly when Wonwoo had moved back to the city permanently. 

“What are you thinking in your pretty head?” Wonwoo looks at you through the back mirror as Mingyu’s pulling up near Wonwoo’s home. 

“This still feels unreal. Why didn’t you tell me before, Mingyu? God, I can’t believe I said all that to you.” 

Mingyu laughs, but doesn’t respond. It’s only when you three enter the house and get seated on the couch, you in between the two boys, that he starts talking. “What do you want to know, Y/N? Right from the beginning?” 

“No, I get the beginning. I pieced it together in my head.” Somewhere from behind you Wonwoo chuckles, and mumbles smart girl. But you don’t dare to look at him, trying to ground yourself in reality. So you stay turned towards Mingyu. “Did you know he’s my boss even before I told you?” 

“I did. After Wonwoo and I got together, I told him all about you. I showed him your photos, told him you’re my best friend, told him we also sleep together sometimes.” 

“And you were okay with that?” You finally develop some courage to look into Wonwoo’s eyes, his beautiful black eyes that are so much sexier up close. 

“Of course I was. How could I not be, when you made my baby boy so happy? You and I both know that Mingyu has too much love to give, so I knew that him loving you wouldn’t take him away from me.” 

“Lo-loving me?” Your voice is feeble, and you look back at Mingyu. Your eyes drift to his cherry lips before looking back at him, and he smiles, his canines out on display. “I do love you, Y/N, you know that, right? I’ve meant it every single time I’ve said it.” “But as a friend…?” “That’s only because I didn’t want to lose you by confessing. And also because I had no idea how I was falling for two people at the same time. You and Wonwoo.” Your eyes drift to his lips again as you sigh. It’s so strange, how conflicted your heart had been just earlier this evening, but now your body is radiating with a slow-flowing joy. Noticing your gaze, Mingyu leans in and gently kisses you on your mouth, a chaste, soft kiss, but it’s sweet like nectar. “You want me? Mingyu?” “So much, Y/N-ie. And Wonwoo wants you too, you know.” 

You finally turn around to look at the other man beside you, his patient smile beautiful. “Did Mingyu tell you everything?” He grins, “Yes, everything.” You close your eyes in embarrassment, but Wonwoo’s hands gently cup your cheeks, holding your face in his hands, upturned towards him. “How could he not? I pried every little detail from him.” “Was this the reason why you took the job at our branch?” “Yes. I came to the posting at the headquarters for Mingyu, but I shifted for you. Because I fell for you too whenever Mingyu described you to me. And after meeting you that first time at that meeting at the headquarters, I knew it was a lost case. My heart was yours before you even saw me.” “Oh, I saw you alright. You looked so handsome that day.” You can feel your cheeks heating up in a blush, and Mingyu coos at you from behind. His body somehow moves closer, trapping you between the two boys, and you feel hot with the attention from the both of them. Mingyu’s hands weave through your hair, untangling your hair at the scalp, making you almost purr with pleasure, but you don’t move your eyes from Wonwoo’s face. 

“I want you so much, Y/N. I have wanted you for so long.” Wonwoo pauses and then chuckles, “Mingyu’s wanted to tell you for so long. But I wanted to wait, because I wasn’t sure of how you felt towards me. I’m still not sure… are you still mad at me?” You giggle, even more embarrassed by the second. “I could never be mad at you, Wonwoo.” “I genuinely, really wanted to take care of you, you know. Just take care of you.” Wonwoo’s smile is so gentle, so mature, and so warm. This is a new side of him that you’re seeing, and you realise you’re falling for him even more. “Wonwoo… you know my feelings already.” “But I want you to tell me, please. I need to know that it is the truth.” You pause for a moment, eyes taking in all the beauty of Wonwoo’s features. “I do want you. I want you so much I think I’m losing my mind over it.” 

And that’s all the confirmation it takes. Wonwoo leans down, his grip tightening on your jaw, as he kisses you with all the affection he has. You can’t help it but melt into his mouth, and the kiss deepens. You’ve been so curious for so long to find out what touching Wonwoo would feel like, so when he explores your mouth with the intense kisses, you roam your hands all over his body. Feeling the hair near his nape, the skin along his collarbones, his biceps under his button down shirt, his sculpted back that feels so broad to you. From behind you, you can feel Mingyu’s hands wandering around your body, near your hips, the skin exposed at your stomach below the bralette, inching towards the bottom of your breasts. You shiver at all of the contact, all of the attention. 

It’s only when Wonwoo breaks the kiss and you see Mingyu kneeling down on the carpet next to you, both the men facing you, that you realise that you want them both. So bad. 

“Do you want us both, Y/N?”

“Yes,” Your voice comes out in a rushed squeak because you’re breathless. “Yes, but… can we take this to your bedroom?”

No more words are needed. Mingyu immediately lifts you up in his arms, and you latch your legs around his waist, as he begins to feverishly kiss you as Wonwoo leads the two of you to his bedroom. You’re dropped gently on the bed and Mingyu gets in right next to you. Mingyu makes quick work of taking off his clothes, and Wonwoo stands in front of you, at the edge of the bed, cupping your face with his hands again. “Are you sure?” You nod. “Never been more sure of anything in my damn life.”

Wonwoo bends down to kiss you again. But this time, the kiss is no longer sweet, or exploratory. It’s the kiss of a hungry man eager to devour what is his. He doesn’t let you do anything in the kiss, except match his tempo, and it’s shocking how easily you’re letting in to him. It helps that Mingyu’s also kissing your neck, making you arch your back into him as you lean your neck to give him more area to kiss. Mingyu’s big hands grope at your bralette, and Wonwoo breaks the kiss to let him tug it off. Finding that you’re wearing nothing below it, Wonwoo curses and kisses you again, hard, pushing you on Mingyu’s big body which is all muscles now that the clothes are off. Mingyu’s hands come from behind to fondle your breasts, moaning low in your ears as you wriggle between his spread legs on your either side. You feverishly grip onto Wonwoo’s hips, who’s still standing, and his hands weave into your hair.

“My turn,” Mingyu whispers before attempting to lift you away from Wonwoo, but the older man swats his hands away. “Baby boys don’t demand. You don’t want to get punished yet, Mingyu-ah.” Your head tilts back on Mingyu’s shoulder as you feel the shiver run through his body at his boyfriend’s words. The crystal black in Wonwoo’s eyes becomes unimaginably darker as Mingyu whimpers in your ears. You reach behind to rub your hands over his thighs, his strong, thick thighs, and you can feel his hard length twitching through his boxers near the small of your back. You arch your back to give more access to your tits to Mingyu, who abuses your nipples by pinching and twisting them recklessly. He really loves your breasts, so you let him play, but you can’t stop yourself from moaning out loud now that Wonwoo can’t muffle you any longer with his kisses. 

Wonwoo takes a step away and takes in the sight in front of him. You can see the way his chest heaves with desperation, but his resolve is unbroken. You can see the way his cock is straining through his jeans, but you know his patience is crazy. He’s not going to break so soon. 

And he doesn’t. A slow smirk spreads over his face when his eyes meet yours. “So pretty, my little sweethearts. Pretty baby, are you having fun? Playing with my doll?” A spike of arousal shoots through you at the pet names, and Mingyu whimpers at being called pretty baby. “So much fun, Sir, I swear.” Your body reacts on its own, as you feel another gush of wetness flow into your panties at the way Mingyu calls Wonwoo sir. Fuck, their dynamic is so hot. “Then take off her pants like a good boy.” Mingyu leans in and you help him to get you out your jeans, leaving in nothing but your soaked panties. They’re white which means your arousal must be so evident through the lace, and Mingyu groans when he sees it. But he doesn’t touch you- he knows better.

Wonwoo grins and coos at you. “So pretty in white.” He leans in to kiss you again, before quickly flipping you over until you’re on your hands and legs. His hands gently grope your ass, making you giddy with his large hands patting your soft skin. But then you hear the sound before you feel the impact. The loud smack, a ghost of a touch on your ass, before it starts burning and it’s only then that you realise he’s spanked you. You’re still processing it, when he smacks the same spot again with incredible precision, and you jolt at the touch. He doesn’t give you time to recover- he keeps smacking the same, sensitive area, and you’re sure the spot of arousal on your panties have spread into a larger spot now and he can see it. Because you’re all but whimpering and screaming in Mingyu’s arms now, who’s ravaging your neck with nips and bites, his fingers still pinching your now sensitive nipples. Your body is hanging on the brink of overstimulation, and you’re so wet you think you can come untouched. 

Wonwoo seems to read your mind, because he says next, “Are you come from this, doll? Just a few spanks?” He smacks your ass again, and you jolt again, but Mingyu’s arms hold you in place. “Should I stop? Or should I make you come untouched like this if you like it so much?” 

You don’t respond. 

You can’t respond. 

Your body shakes uncontrollably as you let go of yourself and give in to the first orgasm of that night. Wonwoo spanks you right through the orgasm, but once your shaking reduces, he gently pulls you up and takes off your panties. From how you’re pulled up against Wonwoo’s standing body, you can see how flustered Mingyu looks, his bulge straining through his boxers, the stain big and drops of sweat falling off his beautiful body. He looks gorgeous like this, and you’re dying to kiss him. Once your panties are off, Wonwoo loosens his grip on you, and you seat yourself on Mingyu’s lap, his legs still spread, and you both moan when your bare pussy comes in contact with the bulge in his boxers. You grind down on the hard length as you capture his lips in a kiss, your fingers leaving impressions on his shoulders with how hard you’re gripping him. He gropes your ass, still sensitive from the spanking, but his touch soothes you. You grind down on him harder, and it’s only when he breaks away from the kiss with a hiss that you realise he’s come in his pants as you feel the wetness from his boxers stick to your own wet cunt. “God, that’s so hot Mingyu.” You praise him, as he looks at you with unfocused, desperate eyes, and you kiss him again. 

But then you feel a weight on the bed behind you, and you turn around to see Wonwoo joining the two of you on the bed. His clothes are off, except his boxers, and you gasp when you see how well-built his body is. He’s much leaner compared to Mingyu but his build is so impressive, and your eyes trail down to where his abdomen gives way to his dick, which is very much visible through his boxers. Your hands immediately reach out to grab his shoulders, which are so wide, but he doesn’t let you touch him, instead grabbing your hair and pulling you into a kiss as you’re seated, trapped between Wonwoo and Mingyu. 

“Did you make my baby boy come without touching him?” He asks you between sloppy kisses, before his lips trail down to bite your neck, while Mingyu’s mouth is focused on your tits now, sucking at the nipples, soothing any abrasion from his pinching earlier. You nod unable to form words with all the attention, and Wonwoo understands as he laughs lowly. “Turns out both my playthings are little sluts for each other. So hot for each other, aren’t you?” Mingyu moans next to you, and you can feel how turned on he is by the dirty talk, as his dick twitches after having just orgasmed a few minutes ago. You grab his head and push his face into your breasts as he laps all over your tits. 

Once Wonwoo’s left hickeys all over your neck, he extends a hand to cup Mingyu’s jaw and lifts the younger boy’s head to look at him. There’s an intense look shared between them- you can see Mingyu’s jaw slacken at the touch, as he bends forward for more attention from his boyfriend, so he gets it. Wonwoo leans in to kiss him, and his hand moves from his jaw to his neck, slightly grasping it and choking it while he sits up on his knees to kiss Mingyu out of breath. Mingyu’s back arches as Wonwoo towers over him, and you move backward, leaning against the headboard, turned on even more at the sight in front of you. 

You’ve never had a threesome, and never imagined you’d be so okay with Mingyu being shared with someone else. He’s always been yours even if just as a friend with benefits. But you find that sharing Mingyu with Wonwoo gives you no problem at all- perhaps it’s because you know they’re already a couple, but also because you can see it in their eyes how much they’re in love with each other. 

You pull your legs towards yourself, and Wonwoo soon pulls Mingyu into his arms, the younger man’s legs spread around Wonwoo’s legs, close enough that their dicks brush against each other through the clothing barriers, making Mingyu whine out loudly and Wonwoo hiss at the contact. They feverishly kiss each other, almost as if you’re not there in the room. But you don’t feel out of place. You feel somewhat like a voyeur, but a welcome one, because soon, Wonwoo makes eye contact with you even while kissing Mingyu and sees the way you’re flicking your own clit. He breaks the kiss, and says, “Y/N- I thought you knew better than to touch yourself without my permission.” He takes your hand in his own, away from your body. “Please,” you whisper, but he shakes his head. Mingyu turns to look at you two, his chest heaving. “She looks so pretty like that, Wonwoo.” Wonwoo’s head turns towards Mingyu, a smirk on his face. “You like it?” “Yes, so much.” “Then I guess I can’t be mad. But-” he breaks himself off, getting out of the bed to open the bedside drawer. “I’ll still have to tie you up.” You notice that he’s brought out a tie and a bottle of lube. He leans in to tie your hands away from you, and a part of you gets embarrassed that Mingyu’s seeing you like this, because you’ve never let him tie you up, because you didn’t know you were into it, you would rather tie him up. But your pussy throbs when your hands are tied behind you, leaving your breasts arched out towards the front, and Wonwoo extends one hand to enter two fingers into your wet pussy as he goes back to position and resumes kissing Mingyu, his other hand holding on to Mingyu’s hips. 

It’s funny to see how quiet Mingyu is with Wonwoo, all pliant and desperate. When he’s with you, he’s running his mouth endlessly, babbling or being a brat, giggling whenever either of you slip up the slightest, and yapping even through the most intense of orgasms. But Wonwoo, no words seem to come out of his mouth. Only moans, pretty moans of varying pitches, whines and whimpers, the occasional grunt and groan, because any word he tries to form gets broken down into nonsensical sounds ending in whimpers. 

Wonwoo removes his hand from your cunt, leaving you high on the impending orgasm, and feeling so, so empty. You almost whine at the loss, but Wonwoo speaks before you, clearly he’s having a moment with his boyfriend so you don’t want to interrupt greedily.

“Did you wear that all evening?” When Mingyu replies in affirmative, a breathy yes, Wonwoo grunts and twists his boyfriend’s nipples before kissing him again. You wonder for a second what that is, but then you twist your body to look at the spot where Wonwoo’s other hand is. 

You find a crystal butt plug sitting snugly between Mingyu’s asscheeks, shining bright against his golden skin, and your pussy clenches at the sight. Wonwoo’s hand touches all around it, clearly teasing, before he pulls away from the kiss and leans over Mingyu to see the butt plug himself. There’s a sudden gasp as Wonwoo lightly slaps over the plug, and then slowly, excruciatingly slowly pulls out the butt plug. “Please, no- no, pl- I- Wo- sir!” Mingyu fumbles over his words as he feels his gaping hole become empty, and Wonwoo sighs at the sight, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he controls himself. “Such a whore, Gyu, wearing the prettiest plug in your pretty ass all night for anyone to feel up.” “No! O-only for- for you, sir!” Wonwoo’s fingers easily enter the slender hole and you feel your enter body get hot when you feel his other hand also at your pussy, his thumb flicking your clit. He’s fingering the two of you simultaneously but his face is so focused, so resolute, while the two of you are breaking apart from his touch. 

Wonwoo’s hand soon leaves your pussy and you see him turn around Mingyu with the younger’s back towards him. “Ready?” He whispers in his boyfriend’s ear, biting his earlobe and taking off their boxers. Mingyu’s whining reply comes soon after, “Please, need it inside me, please sir!” Wonwoo chuckles, and he squirts lube into his hand before entering Mingyu’s hole one finger at a time. 

Your eyes are blown wide at the sight before you, as you see Mingyu squirm and whine as Wonwoo enters nearly three fingers at once, pumping slowly. Mingyu can’t help but babble, “Please, I’m ready- so ready, don’t need prep-” “You’re right, whores do not need prep. Your ass was made for me, wasn’t it?” Mingyu whines again, and you move in front of him to kiss his bare chest, licking his nipples softly, and you suddenly feel Mingyu’s body jolt up. 

Wonwoo’s cock has entered him, up to the hilt, all in one go. It’s not easy- seeing that Wonwoo’s cock is long and incredibly erect right now, but Mingyu takes it all in with a scream of his boyfriend’s name. “God, still so tight. Fucking heaven.” Wonwoo sets his own lazy pace, his hands casually gripping Mingyu’s hips. Mingyu’s cock is still so erect, its bulbous head red and sensitive as it leaks all over the bed without any attention given to it. You see Mingyu enter a completely different level of submissiveness, where he doesn’t even want to be a brat and tease back, he gives in completely as his boyfriend fucks him stupid.

“Gyu? How about you eat out this pretty pussy here, hmm? You like it, don’t you?” “Yes, I wanna- please- can I?” Mingyu looks up at you, as if for permission, but you instantly pull his head down towards your wet pussy and he dives right in, his tongue entering you immediately. You and Wonwoo both moan out loud at the sight, and he begins fucking Mingyu faster. He fucks Mingyu into you, and the additional force makes Mingyu suck your clit and make out with your pussy even better. You throw your head back in pleasure, feeling a knot in your stomach building up.

 “I’m going to come all over his face, Wonwoo. Will you let him come with me?” Wonwoo chuckles, “Hold on for a second longer, look at the pathetic way his cock is leaking. He’s going to come untouched again, isn’t he?” Mingyu’s moans buzz into your pussy and your voice becomes desperate. “Please let him come now! I can’t hold it-” And that’s it. You climax right then, your essence covering all of Mingyu’s face, who licks you through the orgasm, and you see him hit his orgasm too, his cock wringing out ropes and ropes of cum as he comes untouched for the second time that night. “You were right, Wonwoo. He really is pathetic. He’s still hard after coming twice untouched.” It’s so hot to talk about Mingyu like he’s not even in the room, and you can see how much he likes it. Almost as if you both can use him as you please for your pleasure only. His big body falls limp on the bed, whining, when Wonwoo suddenly pulls out of him and leans over to kiss you. 

As Mingyu lies down, recovering his breath, Wonwoo tugs you closer to him and kisses you. His mouth is warmer now, the kiss more sloppy, and the scent of Mingyu is not entangled with his own masculine scent, making you heady with pleasure. Wonwoo’s hands soon find your clit as he rubs you hard and fast while making out with you, his other hand gripping your hair to hold you in place as your knees almost buck and collapse under his ministrations. “I’m not done with you yet, doll. Tired already?” He pulls away but you chase him and end up licking all over his jaw. “Not tired. I’ll take whatever you give, Wonwoo.” 

You almost miss Wonwoo’s low grunts when Mingyu whines from beside you, “Me too… Y/N-ie kiss me too.” Identical, indulging, fond smiles burst out on both your and Wonwoo’s faces, and even he can’t come to scold his cute boyfriend. “Attention whore,” Wonwoo’s words don’t sting, they’re filled with a gentle fondness that recplicates the one in your heart, and you both lie on either side of Mingyu to kiss him all over, you make out with him and Wonwoo lavishes his skin with hickeys that will leave marks tomorrow. Mingyu sighs and whimpers in the spotlight, and you notice how his dick chubs up again. Wonwoo notices it too, because he laughs, a mean undertone in his voice, as bends down to kiss the tip of his boyfriend’s thick cock. 

“You’re so pretty all over,” you whisper to Mingyu as you kiss his stomach and eventually take his hardening cock into your mouth, inch-by-inch to avoid gagging on the thick length. Your hands are still tied behind you, so you can’t stroke the rest of the length that doesn’t fit inside your mouth. “Don’t praise him, don’t encourage him to be more of a cockslut,” Wonwoo says, his fingers fondling your breasts as he watches you suck his boyfriend’s cock. Mingyu’s dick spews pre-cum into your mouth with the simultaneous praise and degradation, and you relax your jaws to deepthroat him further. 

“Y/N! You- god, Y/N-ie you’re so good at this, please- Wonwoo, can I fuck her mouth? Please?” Your mouth waters at the idea so you look up at Wonwoo, your tongue still licking at Mingyu’s tip, begging him to let Mingyu fuck his big cock into your mouth, but Wonwoo glares back, looking ready to devour you. You haven’t missed how his cock is still rock-hard, proud and red against his abs, so you move up from Mingyu’s dick and bend down to place kisses on Wonwoo’s tip too. He groans at the contact, cursing under his breath. Then he sits up and flips you around, until you’re on your stomach on the bed, your mouth inches away from Mingyu’s dick, and Wonwoo’s dick pokes at your folds, rubbing himself with the wetness of your pussy. He places a hand on the back of your head and pushes you down on Mingyu’s cock, right as he sinks into your cunt, the whole length inside you at once, and you moan around the cock in your mouth. Your hands still tied behind you, you feel your nipples brushing against the sheets, and all the stimulation is too much to take. 

Your mouth full of cock, you push yourself back towards Wonwoo, to take as much of him as you can, desperate for him to set a faster pace, but you can’t take your mouth off the dick to tell him the same. Thankfully, he seems to read your mind, or rather, his self-restraint breaks, as he snaps his hips faster against you, moaning about how tight you are, so wet, so warm, so sexy and how he’s moulding you to fit his cock, shaping you to fit you, and how he wants to come inside. So you get up from Mingyu’s cock for a second, to say, forming words slowly, “You can, Wonwoo.” His pace stutters, “I can? You sure?” “Yes please. I want it. Want you to fill me up, Mr. Jeon!” 

And that does it for him. He buries himself into you as he comes inside you, his thick cum being pushed further inside as he lazily thrusts you through it. You come seconds later as Mingyu himself comes inside your mouth, and you take it all in, your body eager to please. Mingyu sighs, his face red but the pleasure clearly painted on his features as he flashes you a sated grin. As Wonwoo pulls out of you, he gets off the bed to bring a piece of cloth from his washroom, and you move up to kiss Mingyu, the kiss slow, exhausted, but so warm. You’re smiling against each other’s mouths, the skin-to-skin contact feeling like heaven, and he runs his hands through your hair. When Wonwoo comes and sits next to you, he kisses his boyfriend first, another gentle, warm kiss that makes your heart full. “You did so well, baby.” He tells Mingyu, who gives him another dopey smile, before he turns to you, and kisses you too. “You too, darling.”

Darling. You melt at the pet name, stretching your hand to hug Wonwoo and Mingyu at the same time, the latter snuggling into you, needy after all the sex and Wonwoo chuckles. “Let me clean you up and then you guys cuddle.” “And you?” Mingyu’s voice is small, whiny, and Wonwoo laughs. “I’ll be right back with y’all. I need a shower, okay?” And when he kisses your and Mingyu’s forehead and disappears into the washroom in all his naked glory, you sigh peacefully and snuggle into Mingyu’s chest, the latter placing tiny kisses near your hairline as you both fall asleep. 

_

(vi)

You know, somewhere in the middle of the night, Wonwoo had joined the two of you in that big bed. You’d ended up sandwiched between the two men, your head snuggled in Wonwoo’s chest, as Mingyu spooned you from behind. Safe to say, you did not need a blanket all night. 

Like clockwork, your body wakes up at six am, just as the sun begins shining through the pale blue curtains. Wonwoo is not next to you, but the pillow isn’t cold. You can see Mingyu still snoring away, so you gently detach his legs from where it was tangled with yours all night, and get out of the bed. Your legs are still sore, but you manage to find Mingyu’s t-shirt from last night and slip it on and walk out of the room. 

In the daylight, you can see just how elegant and posh the house is. Unlike your apartment, the walls are done in dark shades of blue, and you think how accurately it reflects Wonwoo’s soul. The furniture is all wood, and you know that the multiple appliances in the kitchen and the dressing room you see are additions from Mingyu’s end. You find Wonwoo standing in the open kitchen, leaning against the counter as he hums softly and sips his coffee. Seeing you, he looks up and a beautiful smile spreads across his face. 

In the daylight, Wonwoo looks different. 

In the daylight, Wonwoo looks attainable. You step closer to him and hug him, your arms finding your way around his slender waist, and he hugs you back, resting his chin atop your head. “Good morning, darling. Can’t sleep even on a Sunday?” You laugh into his shoulder. “Neither can you. There’s a reason why people say we’re dating our work.” “Not me.” He pulls your head away to face him, “I know I’m dating two beautiful people, the most beautiful people in the world, my favourites.” Your heart fills at the fondness in his eyes. 

“Wonwoo, I know we talked last night, but are you s-” “Are you sure? What you say matters the most, baby.” “I am, but you and Mingyu are in an open relationship and all…” “That was another ploy, of course. You think I could share Mingyu with anyone except his pretty little best friend who looks like a dream?” His words make you cringe, and you wonder if anyone ever sees this side of Wonwoo except Mingyu… and now, you. You lean in to kiss his pouty, pink lips, and Wonwoo’s nose scrunches up into an adorable smile. God, that’s the first time you’re seeing this smile. So you kiss him again, eager to get him to react like that again. And he does. The nose scrunch becomes a permanent feature as he kisses you deeper, and you can taste the coffee in his mouth. 

“Do you want coffee?” 

“Yes, please. Should I wake up Mingyu? I don’t want him to feel sad later for missing anything.” You hug Wonwoo one more time before you feel another pair of hands grabbing you from behind and crushing the two of you in a bear hug. “I feel sad already, Y/N-ie. Thank you for thinking about me. Who do I even have in this world except you, hmm? Certainly not my boyfriend.” Mingyu’s morning voice is extra lispy and extra raw, but it feels so warm near your back.

You open your eyes to see Wonwoo kissing Mingyu from above you. “Please don’t gang up against me on our first day together.” Wonwoo’s quiet mumbling doesn’t go unnoticed and you and Mingyu both end up laughing. You hug the two of them again, and your heart settles into a warm peace you never want to get out of, for your life. 

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Going Live.

Pairing: Yandere!Nanami x Reader (JJK)

Word Count: 7.6k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Camgirl!Reader, Kidnapping, Physical Intimidation, Long-Term Stalking, Obsessive Behavior, Delusional Behavior, Slight Exhibitionism, and Panic Attacks + Disassociation. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You were a lot of things to Nanami Kento – his world, his light, his love – but above all else, you were the reason he looked forward to getting home.

Calling it ‘infatuation’ would’ve been a disservice to the depth of his feelings for you. It’d been love at first sight; instant and wholehearted, a shackle snapped shut around his neck that he had no will or desire to escape. His eyes were on his watch as soon as he crossed the threshold, his coat shrugged off and abandoned along with his tie in the doorway. He didn’t bother turning on lights or taking off his shoes, doing anything to make his empty apartment seem more lived-in, his focus solely dedicated to reaching his home office with as few disruptions as was possible, with Gojo and the higher-ups still attempting to contact him about the curse he’d finished exorcising less than an hour prior. They could wait. You wouldn’t.

He was smiling by the time he collapsed into the leather-cushioned chair, his laptop still on his desk from the night before – the last time he got to see you. The motions were automatic, practiced to the point of reflexivity. One hand glided over the keyboard while the other found his phone, silencing it in the same motion as he tossed it haphazardly onto the desk, out of his view. He checked his watch one more time; 6:59. Good. He was early.

His grin brightened, as did his laptop. Your stream flickered to life a second later and with it, your smiling face. The relief was instant, pure warmth accompanying it. The bittersweet tinge – as subtle as it was prodding – came only a moment later, but Nanami did his best to ignore it.

You were the sole reason Nanami Kento looked forward to getting home. The center of his world, the sole light in his otherwise bleak life. The person he loved more than anything, more than everything.

It was only a shame, then, that you had no idea he existed.

One of his favorite things about you had always been your meticulousness. For tonight’s show, you were splayed out across the foot of a queen-sized bed, surrounded by pastel pink satin sheets and a fleece comforter of the same shade, a matching dormant hitachi vibrator (Nanami’s favorite and, guessing from how often it made an appearance in your shows, yours too) nestled between your thighs. Your outfit was aesthetically pleasing – a set of lacey, baby blue lingerie with white, knee socks – but paired with your set up, casual enough to give the impression that you hadn’t realized the camera you were posing in front of was actually on, as if you weren’t entirely prepared to be seen by a thousand or so strangers just yet. The fact that you didn’t start talking right away, only humming as you idly toyed with your hair, only added to the nonchalance of it all. You would make a good actress, if you ever decided to pursue something more, for lack of a more applicable phrase, legitimate.

Nanami’s attention drifted from you to your chat, slowly starting to fill with impatient viewers. Despite himself, he felt his absentminded smile waver, an irk of irritation momentarily tainting his bliss. He knew you weren’t entirely real, that he didn’t have any right to be possessive over a performer, but he loved you. It would’ve been difficult for anyone to watch someone they loved be exposed to so many prying eyes.

user34333: fuck she’s hot

hotbox420: looking good y/n!!!

lostandconfused: why does she still have her clothes on?

 The only silver lining was how oblivious you seemed to it. Another minute passed before you straightened, yawning slightly as you pushed yourself up, legs hanging over the foot of your bed. “Welcome home,” you started, with a quick stretch and a playful wave towards the camera. “Everyone’s already put the kids to bed, right? I’ve got a very special surprise I want to bring out a little later, so nobody’s allowed to leave early.”

Your tone was light, melodic, saccharine. Already, Nanami could feel his cock beginning to harden against his thigh, straining at the material of his pants. You were always mobile during your shows, prone to flitting from one position to another, but tonight, you almost seemed antsy as you pulled your legs back onto the mattress, tucking your knees underneath you and bowing your head, your neutral smile taking on a shy undertone. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” you admitted, speaking quickly enough for the words to blend together. Then, with more composure, “Who wants to get us started?”

Nanami’s hand was already on his keyboard, waiting for your cue. Somehow, he was still too late.

blueeyeswhitedragon sent 150 credits!

blueeyeswhitedragon: Bra first, pretty please.

You giggled as you raised your hands, leaning forward to give the camera a better view of your chest as you undid the clasp at the nape of your neck. Nanami’s breath hitched as the thin fabric fell away, revealing the soft curves of your breasts and your pretty, perfect nipples – already hard, already enough to make saliva pool underneath his tongue. The lower clasp was next, undone with more effort and more bouncing than what seemed absolutely necessary, but Nanami couldn’t complain, not when he was struggling to undo the fly of his dress pants without ever looking away from you. There was another giggle as the article fell away entirely, then a third as you cupped your chest with both hands, groping gently. “I used to be so shy about taking my top off on camera…” You trailed off, batting your eyes. “But, you guys think I’m pretty, right?”

Your requested affirmations flooded the chat in an instant. Nanami grinned, slumping back in his chair. He could compliment any part of you earnestly, but aside from donations, he rarely let himself participate in your chat. Speaking to you so openly, being one of a dozen people whose username you’d glance over in a second – that wasn’t what he wanted. Anonymous adoration wasn’t the shape his affection took.

Eventually, you collapsed back onto your bed. “Okay, okay, that’s enough,” you went on, as Nanami wrapped a fist around the base of his cock. “What next?”

There was another offer – 300 credits for your panties, 400 if you took them off with your back to the camera. You obliged, bent at the waist, inching the silken fabric down your thighs at an almost sadistic pace. After you finished, you seemed ready to move onto the main show, but another donation cropped up in your chat.

user34232 sent 75 credits!

user34232: for the socks pls

That, as far as Nanami could tell, seemed to catch you genuinely off-guard. He could see you blushing as you leaned towards the camera – or, he supposed, the laptop you had positioned underneath it, as if you’d misread something. “…my socks?”

Nanami stifled a grown, tightening his hold. With his free hand, he reached for the keyboard,

n. kento sent 200 credits!

n. kento: Don’t take them off.

You played your part perfectly, sighing as you let your head lull to the side. All it took was you batting your eye lashes while letting out the sweetest murmur of “Well, I don’t know if that’s fair, but…” for your chat to dissolve into a bidding war, donations ranging from five credits to five hundred. If you were making any earnest attempt to keep track of which side was winning, you clearly had no motivation to call it too early on – pulling your legs onto your bed and kicking your feet out playfully towards the camera. “Some of you guys ask for such weird stuff,” you went on, rolling your left ankle. “If someone doesn’t tell me what to do soon, I think I’m just going to have to change into another outfit.”

Nanami let out a breath of a chuckle, only half aware he was typing.

n. kento sent 1,750 credits!

n. kento: You look beautiful. Keep them on.

You laughed, and this time, Nanami chose to believe it was sincere. “I get it! We’ll move on.” You were already leaning back, rolling onto your stomach, giving your viewers a perfect view of your ass as you reached for something off-screen. “Normally I’d ask for a suggestion,” you said, as you brought what you’d retrieved back into frame – a pale pink rabbit vibrator, the penetrative half of the forked wand ribbed. “But I have something I’m kind of looking forward to. I promise, I’ll try to get past the boring stuff quickly.”

You thought too little of yourself. Arousal drooled from Nanami’s flushed tip as you positioned yourself on the edge of the mattress, legs spread wide and slick, glistening pussy fully on display. You were already wet, but he knew you would be. It was something you joked about often – how sensitive you were, how something as minor as a wet dream would have you soaking through your panties. Normally, he would’ve figured you were just playing it up for the sake of your viewers, but it was hard to deny the evidence in front of him.

A whimper slipped past your parted lips as you eased the head of the toy past your entrance, stretching yourself out on its bulbed tip. Now, now, he started to move his hand, pumping his fist over the length of his shaft in short, slow strokes, matching your tempo as you rocked your toy into your pussy. A dull hum fills the room as your thumb finds the switch built into the handle’s underside, and your expression immediately goes from dazed to pained, your tongue peaking out from between your lips and your eyes fluttering shut as your hips bucked against the vibrator. “It—It feels—” Your thighs threaten to twitch shut, but you hold them open, determined to give your audience the best possible view of your pussy clenching around your toy. “I really—I wanna get some bondage gear soon, so that I can—”

Whatever you might’ve said was replaced by a bubbling moan, and just like that, Nanami was fucking his fist without restraint. He knew how pathetic it was, but it would’ve been impossible not to imagine it was his cock sinking into your dripping cunt rather than an inanimate toy, not to wish it was your pussy clamping down around his length rather than his own fist. He wondered what you smelled like, if you wore perfume, what it would be like to have his face buried between your thighs. He was aware, vaguely, that your chat was the most active it’d been all night, people trying to catch your attention with donations and tips and compliments, but they didn’t matter. They weren’t watching you, not really, not the same way Nanami was. He knew you, well enough to know that you couldn’t think once something had been stuffed inside of your cunt. He loved you, enough to wish he was the one making your mind go so euphorically blank.

There was more moaning, more failed attempts to speak, but you didn’t let yourself cum. You were visibly trembling by the time you switched the toy off, and it took agonizing seconds to ease the wand out of your disappointed pussy – seconds Nanami watched with rapt devotion. More out of sympathy than anything else, he lets go of his cock entirely, gritting his teeth and attempting to ignore the pulsing ache forming in the pit of his stomach. What was next was better. What was next was worth waiting for.

You took a few panting breaths, your voice still airy by the time you managed to speak. “I have a—” You paused, grinned. Nanami smiled too. “I have a surprise for all of you, tonight. I think I mentioned that already, but— oh, right.” You perked up, playing excited. “We have to move to the floor, for this next part.”

You slipped off-screen, and a second later, the camera shifted to follow you – falling onto a corner of your room less staged than your bed, but just as pristine. Abstract, pastel tapestries obscured the walls, but the dark floorboards were left bare. On one side, most of a dog kennel was visible, decorated with string lights and clearly meant for one of your more niche shows, and on the other, he could make out the bottom corner of a poster – not for anything kinky, or sensual, or in any way suggestive, but an underground band, a local band. You probably hadn’t realized it was in the shot, let alone meant for it to be. You were usually more careful about giving away anything even remotely personal, but Nanami couldn’t be mad.

After all, it’d been that poster that’d let him find you.

He could still remember the first time he ever saw you – actually saw you, not through a screen, but in person. After he knew that you lived in the same city as him (the same district, even), it’d only taken a few more days to find your name, your age, your address. Still, he put off visiting you for weeks, telling himself that it didn’t matter, that you wouldn’t recognize him, that you wouldn’t want to see him. And, in the end, you hadn’t seen him at all – you hadn’t needed to.

That night, he’d watched your show from the rooftop of the building opposite of yours, straining to see you through a bedroom window left carelessly open. Even now, the guilt was almost tangibly agonizing, the shame practically unbearable.

Almost as unbearable as the temptation to go back.

But, that part would come soon enough. You were on screen, again, holding something he recognized.

“I have some exciting news,” you chirped, as you kneeled on the floor, holding a pitch-black dildo, a suction cup attached to the base. Despite its color, Nanami could make out defined veins running down the silicone shaft, a noticeable girth to the base. A perfect mirror of the cock currently pulsing for attention in his lap.

He felt himself grinning, as you went on. “I got my first real fan gift!” You held up the toy to your cheek, like a child showing off their first stuffed animal, before planting it on the floor between your thighs. “It’s so big, too,” you said, showing off its size, where the blunt tip rested well above your navel. “Everyone say thank you, Daddy Kento!”

Your chat was instantly flooded with predictable responses, but Nanami couldn’t look away from you. You were enjoying yourself, clearly. You must’ve thought you were so smart, renting out a P. O. box, going on and on about how grateful you were to your dedicated fans when he reached out to ask if you accepted physical donations, and you were smart. It was only a shame that Nanami loved you enough to look past all of your attempts to keep him away.

As you began to move onto your knees, he allowed himself one more intervention.

n. kento sent 3,000 credits!

n. kento: Take it to the hilt.

It was cruder than he usually cared to be, but as your eyes flickered towards your monitor, your lips quirked into a slight smile. You didn’t respond verbally, but you nodded, and sunk down onto his cock.

Immediately, his hand wasn’t enough, but he tried to make do – matching your agonizingly slow pace, imagining what it would feel like to have you lower yourself down onto his real cock, rather than a cheap imitation. Trails of iridescent slick dripped down the dark silicone, your camera positioned strategically to catch every bounce of your breasts as your breathing hitched, to provide the optimal view of your pussy stretching around the tip, then the head, then the shaft as you lowered yourself slowly. “It—It’s so big,” you repeated, bringing a hand up to your stomach while the other remained on the floor, keeping you stable. “I mean, I knew it would be, but—fuck—” Another inch, Nanami’s fist moving over the same part of his cock. You let out an airy laugh. “Just be thankful I’m so tough.”

“I am,” Nanami muttered, his voice echoing off the bare walls of his office. “You’re perfect.”

“I really wanna cum on this one, too – to, like, christen it, or something. Been keeping myself pent up all day for it.” With a pitchy keen, you brought yourself a few inches higher, then dropped. Your free hand shot away from your stomach and back to the floor as you continued to bounce on the toy’s length, getting just a little deeper each time. “Welcome it to family, y’know? Maybe make it a regular, for you sadists out there.”

Nanami stiffened at the thought of you fucking yourself on a replica of his cock in front of thousands of people twice a week; drooling and panting as you told your viewers how big he was, how good he felt inside of you. With his restraint brought to its limits, he fucked his fist carelessly, his attention fixed on the steady movements of your hips as you rode his toy. Your eyes didn’t flutter closed, this time – they clenched shut, and you couldn’t seem to keep your voice under control, little mewls and half-conscious whines bubbling up from your chest as you struggled to take that much more of him with every thrust. When you did manage to speak, your voice was uneven, whiney, so sweet it made him want to dig his teeth into something and tear. “I’m so close,” and then, as you brought yourself back down, so close to bottoming out, “I wanna cum!”

“You will,” Nanami whispered. He knew you couldn’t hear him, but it was true – you would, and if he’d been able to, he would’ve made you. He would’ve let you fuck yourself on his cock whenever you asked, would’ve woken you up every morning coming undone on his tongue and made sure you fell asleep with his cock buried inside of you. If you were with him, you’d never have to think again, never have to feel anything but pleasure – any time you wanted it, every time you wanted it. He’d make sure—

You didn’t moan as you reached the toy’s base, you screamed. One of your hands moved to the space between your thighs, two fingers rubbing quick circles into your clit as you nursed yourself through your orgasm. Nanami didn’t stand a chance, still chasing his fantasies as he spilled over his hand; searing hot cum pooling on his lap, soaking into the material of his shirt, spilling onto his desk. He didn’t stop moving his hand, though, not until you went limp – bending at the waist, bracing yourself on the floor. Finally, you managed to raise your head, flashing that brilliant smile towards the camera. Of course, Nanami smiled back.

In a daze, he watched you ease yourself off of the toy and wrap up your stream, so familiar from your script that he would’ve been able to recite it with confidence. Even after you signed off, the screen going black, he didn’t move, only letting his head roll to the side with a shallow sigh.

It was pathetic, just how much he loved you. It was painful, being so far from someone who made him feel so irrationally happy.

He could only count the days until he wouldn’t have to limit himself to only watching from a distance any longer.

~

There was a man in your apartment.

A man you didn’t want to be in your apartment, just to be clear. You’d heard the front door open, seen a bulky silhouette moving through your living room, and now, you were listening to him riffle through your bedroom as you hid in the en suite bathroom – crouched in the smallest corner you could find with both hands locked over your mouth, trying to stifle the sound of your own breathing. The door was locked, but that didn’t matter. You didn’t want to find out how much a thin sheet of wood would do to protect you. You didn’t want to give him a reason to acknowledge you at all.

As far as you could tell, there was only one intruder. You could only hear one pair of muffled footsteps, with second-long gaps between every little movement. The air caught in your throat as you heard him edge closer, closer, then pause. There was a dull clack, the sound of metal clashing against plastic, and you relaxed, sighing into your palms. Your filming equipment. It was expensive, but nothing you couldn’t replace. If you were lucky, he’d take what he could carry and leave.

And that was what he seemed to be doing, too – more rustling interrupted every so often by a few moments of heart-wrenching silence. Soon enough, you heard the intruder start to move again, his footsteps edging closer to the bathroom door as he moved to leave your bedroom entirely, and—

“(Y/n)?”

Fuck.

You didn’t say anything, holding your breath and digging your nails into your cheeks, willing yourself not to move, not to think. You didn’t make a sound, you couldn’t have, and yet he kept talking.

“I know you’re in there. Please, come out.”

He couldn’t know. He couldn’t know. You’d kept the lights off, and you hadn’t moved in minutes, and—

He tried the knob, and something cracked deep inside of your chest. There was an airy sigh, then a dull thud, like he was leaning against the door frame. “Please,” he repeated, sounding more exasperated than angry. “I don’t want to scare you.”

“Y-you can take whatever you want,” you stuttered, your voice unsteady, just a touch louder than it really had to be. That was fine. You didn’t have to pretend to be brave, so long as you made it out of this alive and uninjured. “I won’t call the police – I can’t call the police, I left my phone in the kitchen. You can take it, too. I… I don’t have a lot of cash, but my camera, it should be worth—”

“I don’t want your camera, love.” If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought he sounded wistful. “Come out, or I’ll break down the door.”

Honestly, it hadn’t occurred to you that he could.

It took a second to pry your hands off of your face, and another to push yourself to your feet – your legs shaking as you struggled to stand. Almost mechanically, you moved towards the door; unlocking it in the same motion as you pulled it open. Light from your bedroom spilled into the entryway, revealing—

God.

He was taller than you’d expected him to be.

Six feet at least, with a build to match. The sleeves of his dress-shirt were rolled up to his elbow, showing off arms so muscular, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d planned to tear your door off its hinges with his bare hands. He had a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, visibly full, but you could still see your equipment standing untouched behind him, and you couldn’t imagine anything else he would’ve wanted to take. His blonde hair was swept back, out of his eyes, and he was holding a butcher’s knife in his right hand, the blade wrapped in leopard-spotted fabric. Surprisingly, though, his weapon wasn’t what concerned you the most.

He was smiling. No, actually, that wasn’t right.

He was beaming.

“(Y/n),” he said, again. You didn’t let yourself wonder why he knew your name. “I—I’m sorry, I should’ve introduced myself earlier. I might’ve gotten a little carried away – I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

“…it’s okay,” you managed, your voice barely audible. “Are you going to kill me?”

His expression dropped. “No. Of course not.” And then, after a brief lapse, “I’d never hurt you. I…” You saw his right hand flex around the grip of his knife, and thought you might black out. “I’m a fan.”

Instantly, you felt the blood freeze in your veins.

Fuck. Fuck.

You knew you should’ve gone into accounting.

“I… You’re a fan?” You tried to smile, but it might’ve come across more pained than relieved. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to meeting people who’ve caught my stream. Should I know what to call you?”

And just like that, his grin was back, any momentary tension assayed. You wished he would’ve put down the knife, too, but beggars can’t be choosers. “Kento,” he said, and for the first time, you noticed the pink hue creeping over his cheeks. “Nanami Kento.”

You grit your teeth as you struggled to place him. After a second, it came to you.

Kento. Right. The dildo guy.

Somehow, knowledge provided little comfort. Still, you soldiered on. “It’s really nice to meet you, Nanami.” You clasped your hands behind your back, rocking gently on your heels. “I—I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting any guests. If you want to step out for a couple minutes, I can change into something more comfortable, and show you how appreciative I am for your—”

“I’m not an idiot.” He cut you off, still grinning. “You’re coming with me.”

You didn’t let your smile waver, either. “And, if I didn’t want to go with you…?”

 “I’m afraid this isn’t about what you want, anymore.”

You meant to say something – opened your mouth and everything – but nothing came out. Your heart tightened in your chest, a not inconsiderable portion of your mind screaming for you to run, run, run. And yet, when he took you by the wrist in a feather-light hold, leading you through your own apartment and out into the hall, it was all you could do to smile and follow after him.

~

The first thirty minutes of the car ride passed in silence. Nanami – because you couldn’t stand to keep thinking of him as ‘that guy who bought you a dildo shaped like his own dick and paid you thousands of dollars to ride it live on stream’ – kept his knife in his lap, his hand falling away from the wheel and onto its hilt whenever you so much as took a deep breath. Eventually, your eyes fell to the clock built into his dashboard, and you broke through your paralysis with a nervous laugh.

“It’s a little funny,” you started, for lack of anything else to do. “I’d actually normally be getting ready for my stream, around now.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him swallow, his jaw tensing. “I know.”

Great. Okay. Whatever. “I don’t mind, y’know,” you managed, before you could let yourself fully consider what you were going to say. “If it means we don’t have to go through with the whole kidnapping thing, I really wouldn’t mind sleeping with you – you can even take pictures, if you’d like that, or record, whichever you’d prefer.”

“That’s not what I—”

“I haven’t tried a lot of hardcore stuff, but I wouldn’t mind if that’s what you’re into. We don’t even have to go back to my apartment, you could just pull over, and—”

“That’s not what I’m interested in.” He didn’t raise his voice, but his tone left no room for protest. “I’m not going to… I’m not going to just fuck you once and leave you by the side of the road. I’m doing this for your sake.”

As if you’d willingly climbed into a maniac’s car. “I… I’m not following, Kento.”

“It’s for your own protection. Once I thought to look, it took me hours to find out everything about you.” He spared you a quick glance, that same uncanny smile. One of his hands left the wheel and, rather than moving to his knife, found your knee, squeezing gently. It took everything you had not to scream. “Imagine what someone could do with that kind of information. They could blackmail you, if they found your full name, or track you down if they pieced together your address. It’d be a miracle if they were only a stalker. It just wasn’t safe to let you keep going on that way.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to him. “They could even break into my apartment and abduct me at knifepoint.”

His gaze narrowed, but his smile only softened. Neither of you spoke for the rest of the journey.

After far too long and not nearly long enough, you reached your destination: a housing complex, leagues nicer (and more expensive) than your own rundown building. Calling them apartments would’ve been a disservice; they were more similar to free-standing condos, or miniature villas slotted just outside of the city’s more metropolitan districts. Without a word, you let him guide you into a relatively generic home, its only notable feature being the absolute lack of evidence of meaningful life within it. You wouldn’t have been surprised if it was a rental, leased exclusively to give him someplace to do… well, whatever he planned to do to you. It’d be more off-putting to know that someone actually lived someplace so vacant.

He led you through the empty halls and up a flight of stairs, keeping you in front of him and in his line of sight at all times. Finally, you reached the door he seemed to be looking for and, with a nod by way of instruction, let yourself inside.

Before you stood, puzzlingly, your own bedroom.

Or – the parts of it you could make out on camera, at least. The bed was the same size, the same model, made with the same sheets and littered with the same pillows, but the floor was covered in a harsh white carpeting, the surrounding walls soundproofed with suffocating black foam. Camera equipment identical to your own had been set-up at the foot of your bed, but an unfamiliar silver laptop replaced your own sticker-covered monstrosity. You didn’t see any chains, whips, or shock collars, which was good. You still didn’t know what the fuck was going on, which was bad.

Confused, you turned to Nanami as he crossed the threshold and rather conservatively, shut and locked the door. “There are clothes on the bed,” he explained, with a tone that made it difficult to tell whether or not he knew how weird this was. “A script, too. Memorize as much as you can.”

So he still expected you to stream. Or, that was what you hoped, at least – considering the only alternative was that he was planning to make an extremely elaborate snuff film. “I’m not used to using scripts.”

“You’ll manage.”

You didn’t bother trying to argue, only moving towards the bed and attempting to forget he was there entirely.

The ‘clothes’ he’d left for you turned out to be lingerie – the nice stuff, too, white and lacey and bridal with a babydoll cut. You glanced over his script (which, disturbingly, didn’t exactly not sound like you) as you got dressed and fixed your hair, doing the best you could without any of your usual supplies. You wouldn’t be able to reapply your make-up, but you’d put some on earlier, and—

You almost laughed at yourself, stifling a chuckle.

You’d been kidnapped, and you were worried about your make-up. If you got out of this alive, you swore, you’d never touch foundation or a ring light or a camera ever again.

He didn’t have to tell you when it was time – you would’ve known by instinct alone. With Namami watching from an armchair pushed against the opposite wall, you clambered onto the bed and took your usual position, kneeling in center frame. He’d never asked for your credentials, and yet, when you glanced towards the laptop positioned just underneath the main camera, you found that your own profile was already pulled up, a miniature timer in the corner of the screen counting down the seconds until you went live.

As it reached thirty seconds ‘till, it occurred to you that you were in a soundproof room alone with the man who’d kidnapped you and was currently holding you hostage, and that no one could’ve possibly known where you were or, more importantly, who you’d been taken by.

As it reached fifteen, you realized you were being held captive and being forced to wear bridal lingerie that your kidnapped must’ve picked out with the occasion in mind.

As it reached five, for the first time that day, you thought you might actually start to cry.

And, as it reached zero, you put on your biggest, brightest smile and hoped beyond hope that you’d stop thinking entirely, eventually.

“Welcome home!” Skipping over your normal grace period only felt right. You didn’t think you’d be able to survive sitting in silent, motionless suspension for another second, let alone a full minute. “Sorry if I seem a little nervous tonight – to tell the truth, I kind of am. I’ve got a major announcement, and I just can’t put it off any longer.”

Reflexively, your attention drifted first to your own feed – you looked perfect, as always – then to your chat, moving quickly despite your sudden start. You caught a few of the longer messages in your peripheral.

secretary.lover: Is it just me, or does she seem kind scared lmao?

blueeyeswhitedragon: yeahhh i thought her room looked kinda weird too lol

justheretowatch: fuck ur pretty

rapidfire: let me guess, another fake dick?

“I know I probably should’ve given you guys more of a warning,” you went on, fighting the temptation to break, to yell for them to call the police, to give up entirely and make a run for it. “But…”  

You forced yourself to laugh, to beam, to clap your hands together in front of your chest like a schoolgirl – excited to tell her friends that she’d gone through with her first ever confession. “I’m getting married!”

You didn’t have a ring to show off, but you tried your best to preen regardless, to not let any amount of fear or discomfort or hesitation show on your shining expression. After a show delay, congratulations and well-wishes filled your chat (some genuine, others more reluctant), and you did your best to go on without letting the sizable knot slowly gaining mass in the back of your throat smother your voice entirely. “This is going to be my last stream – for a while, at least, until we get settled in. And…”

You tried to remember what’d been listed next in Nanami’s script, but your conscious mind was bogged down by a thick layer of buzzing static, your sense of improvisation dulled by a heavy dose of anxiety. Your eyes flickered to where Nanami was sitting behind your equipment, only to find that the chair he’d formerly occupied empty. You didn’t have time to panic before the edge of the mattress dipped under a new weight, and you remembered what you were supposed to say. “My husband actually wanted to cameo on my send-off show. I was a little hesitant—” Another dip in the mattress, this one much closer than the last. “—but he insisted. I thought you all deserved a chance to meet him, too.”

As soon as you finished, you felt a large hand on your shoulder, a sudden presence at your back. Your gaze fell back to your feed, your own image now accompanied by that of your captor – on his knees behind you, one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hip, the framing positioned so that his head was cut off just above the mouth. The lower half of his face was covered with a black surgical mask, and you had to stop yourself from frowning. You hadn’t expected him to be stupid enough to show his face on camera, but still.

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you felt his hand fall away from your shoulder, slipping underneath the lace camisole of your babydoll. You tried not to move, not to flinch, but you couldn’t stop yourself from jerking forward as you felt his hand slip under your bralette, the angular ridges of his knuckles visible through the thin silk. Despite everything he’d said about not hurting you, about doing this for your protection, he made no attempt to be gentle – the calloused pads of his fingers pressing into the curve of your breast with enough force to bruise. You bit back a whimper, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a sincere reaction. If you wanted to go home, you had to put up with this. He’d never said anything about pretending to enjoy it.

(In the back of your mind, you knew he hadn’t said anything about letting you go home, either. Still, you didn’t let yourself dwell on such discontinuities).

 You should’ve known better than to think he’d attempt to follow the normal flow of your stream, and yet, it still caught you off-guard when his unoccupied hand found its way to the waistband of your panties, then to your clothed sex. You weren’t overly sensitive, despite how you might’ve acted in front of your viewers, but you were still on edge, still panicked, and while the adrenaline being held at knifepoint might’ve sparked was beginning to fade, having your kidnapper grope you on camera was enough to bring on a fresh wave. Reflexively, you pressed your back into his broad chest as his thumb traced over the length of your slit, pausing only momentarily to press into your clit with a dull, oppressive sort of pressure, biting down on your bottom lips to stop anything vulnerable and pathetic from escaping. If Nanami was affected by your stoicism, it wasn’t enough to stop him from pulling the flimsy material to the side entirely and slipping two fingers into you, your now-slick cunt providing humiliatingly easy access. In the same motion, the heel of his palm pressed into your clit, the friction immediately too harsh, too much. It would’ve been too much if he wasn’t touching you at all. It would’ve been too much if he was still sitting alone in his dark, empty house – getting off to the idea of degrading someone he claimed to care about so publicly.

It didn’t help that you were wet. Not dripping, sure, but wet enough for there to be an audible, slick clicking-type noise as he pumped his digits into you, never taking the pressure off of your clit. You could feel his cock pressed into your ass, already hard, already too familiar not to be nauseating, but he didn’t seem to be in a rush to move past your exhibition; his pace measured and experimental, his fingers prone to spreading apart and curling inside of you. To distract yourself, you moved your attention back to your chat, trying to pick out the longer messages between donation notifications.

user84343: girl i call dibs when you’re done with him

hotbox420: no seriously y/n are you okay???

bunnygirl69: still can’t believe you’re leaving us for him </3 can’t say i don’t see why tho ToT

absolutely.soaked: Blink twice if you’re in danger lmaoooo

“G-guys, I’m totally—” Your breath hitched as he forced another finger into you, the stretch now a touch past ignorable. His other hand kneaded at your chest, blunt nails scraping against tender flesh, and momentarily, you wondered if it really would’ve been so bad to take your chances and let him kill you right away. “I’m totally fine, I’m just—” His nails bit into your skin by way of warning, and you allowed yourself a single, stilted moan. “I’m just so happy that I finally get to—to—”

You didn’t know what you were supposed to say, but it didn’t matter. Nanami’s hand dropped from your chest to your side, his arm locking over your midriff and hauling you that much closer. You couldn’t stop yourself this time – whimpering as the tempo of his fingers sped up, as tears started to prick at the corners of your eyes. You glanced around the bedroom, searching for anything familiar, anything you could use to stabilize yourself, anything that you could start to find comforting. Instead, your eyes landed on the duffle bag he’d carried out of your apartment, the zipper now partially undone. You couldn’t see much, but you could make out the handle of a pink hitachi. It wasn’t difficult to guess what the rest of the bag’s contents looked like, what he’d spent so long riffling through your possessions to find.

It wouldn’t been pointless to try and hold back the crooked, ebbing sob that leaked past your lips. This time, when you turned to face your camera, it was with tears just beginning to spill and absolute terror written across your expression. “Call the police,” you managed to spit out, making no attempt to be subtle. “I—I don’t actually know this man, and this isn’t my apartment, and—“

It happened too quickly – like he’d been expecting you to do something so obviously short-sighted. You processed that he was pulling out of your cunt as you felt his fingers entangle themselves in your hair, and then your face was being shoved against the mattress, your body folding over itself as he forced you down. You tried to yell, tried to scream, but your voice was muffled by your own fucking comforter as you heard fabric shifting behind you, as you felt something warm and stiff and leaking align with your entrance. You refused to put a name to it, but that didn’t help. Nothing would’ve helped.

His palm pressed into the back of your head, his body slotting against yours as he leaned down, lowering his head so that he could speak directly into your ear. “I’m doing this for your own good,” he whispered, his voice muffled but still painfully audible. “I’m doing this because I love you.”

You didn’t have a chance to response. He was already inside of you – his cock filling you to your breaking point.

You weren’t sure if your viewers could hear you, but you hoped they could. It would’ve been a pity to sob so loudly for the sole entertainment of the sick, sick man currently rutting into you, grinding into your cunt from behind with a kind of animalistic desperation – all desire and no control. It was a struggle to stay on your knees, not to go entirely limp underneath him, but you doubted it would’ve made a difference if you hadn’t, that he wouldn’t have fucked your limp body just as enthusiastically. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could just barely see the monitor – the miniature image of Nanami’s body moving on top of yours, his blond hair still obscuring the other half of his face, and then next to it, your chat. If you’d been thinking more clearly, you wouldn’t have let yourself look, wouldn’t have let yourself fully acknowledge that there were still thousands of people watching you, but you weren’t thinking at all, and you would’ve given anything for someone to say something that made you forget where you were, just for a second.

sniper727: so the bitch likes it rough? hot

callmeanonymous: FINALLY!!! I’ve been waiting for some cnc rp for actual years.

blueeyeswhitedragon: hey i think i might work with that guy

hotbox420: yeah no i’m calling the cops.

Predictably, your efforts were grotesquely unsuccessful.

Nanami didn’t seem as bothered. The weight on the back of your head disappeared as his hands found your hips, pulling up as he straightened his back. For anyone else, it might’ve been an awkward position – holding up your uncooperative form while bouncing you on his cock  – but no amount of unpleasant technicalities could’ve stopped him from burying himself to hilt with every stroke, keeping you in a constant state of mind-numbing fullness. You tried to talk, again, to call for help, but fractured mewls and pathetic whines drowned out whatever you might’ve said, and even those were put to an end as Nanami took you by the jaw, turning you to face him as his lips crashed into your – his mask either pulled down or discarded entirely, you couldn’t be bothered to check. The kiss itself was messy, rough, brutal, his tongue raking over yours as you sobbed unabashedly into his mouth – your connection only growing more chaotic as his hand once again found your clit and ground two fingers into the sensitive bundle of nerves. You knew what he wanted. You knew what he was trying to do.

And you couldn’t do anything to stop him.

With a ragged sob, you came undone around his cock, any strength you might’ve once had flooding out of your body and dripping down his shaft. Nanami groaned into your mouth, drawing back just far enough to bury his face in your neck and mouth meaningless nothings into your throat as he chased his own climax. He thrusted into you again once, twice, and then you felt pure heat pour into you – a new kind of torture that rendered you entirely senseless. You didn’t try to scream, again.

You were distantly aware of him moving, shifting, pulling something out of his pocket as he muttered a mix of ‘you did so well’s and ‘I love you’s into your skin. When you did finally manage to raise your head, you didn’t think to look toward the remote in his hand or your tattered lingerie or the cum slowly leaking out of your entrance. Rather, your attention landed on the same thing it always did during your streams – your monitor.

You’d never know why, but for whatever reason, you could feel your heart break in your chest as you realized that the screen had already gone black.

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

His bookworm

max verstappen x reader

my masterlist

Content Warnings unprotected sex (p-in-v), rough sex, dirty talk, language, a little fluff,...

Max absolutely loved to watch you read.

The subtle way your expressions changed as your eyes would glide across the pages made his heart swell with admiration.

He found himself entranced with your concentration, your eyebrows knitting together in thought, your lips quirking up into a smile and even the soft laughter that would sometimes escape you as you delved deep into the world you held in your hands.

He was always more than happy to accompany you to the bookstore, leaning against the shelves and observing you as you thumbed through new titles, stacking your choices in his strong arms before darting down the next aisle to browse further.

He looked forward to the evenings when he could lay his head comfortably in your lap, his arm draped across your thighs as you worked your fingers lazily through his hair while you read quietly above him.

Tonight he lay in bed with his hands folded behind his head, listening to the gentle sound of the shower from the bathroom as you bathed when his gaze fell on your most recent read on the nightstand. The cover was dark with a skull and roses, something about a ‘Haunting’ and an absurd amount of sticky notes jutted out from the pages. His curiosity overtook him and he sat up, picking it up and turning it over in his hands. He thumbed through it carefully before letting it fall open to one of the tagged pages, his eyes scanning the text and widening slightly at the content.

He flipped to another tab, quickly reading through the passage, his breath quickening as he took in the words.

“If I catch you, I fuck you.”

Jesus Christ. What the fuck have you been reading the whole time? He knows that his knowledge is not very educated as he had said before he only read two books in his life, and one was Mark Webber’s autobiography. 

The bathroom door creaked open and he slowly lifted his gaze up to you.

Your damp body wrapped in a towel with your wet hair against your neck and shoulders did absolutely nothing to combat the heat that was already rising within him at what he’d just read.

Your eyes connect for a beat before you glance down to notice the book in his hand, opened to one of your tagged pages.

It was hard to discern if the flush across your cheeks was remnant of the heat of the shower or from the slight embarrassment of feeling caught by your boyfriend discovering the absolute filth you’d been reading.

He raises a brow at you, lifting the book and tapping on the open passage.

“If I catch you, I fuck you?” He asks, tilting his head curiously. “Really?”

You huff and roll your eyes, stepping forward and reaching to snatch the book from his hands but he’s quicker, snapping it shut and holding it just out of your reach.

“No, no. We’re gonna talk about this, Liefde.” He says, his lips curling into a smirk. “This is what you’ve been reading?”

You shift from foot to foot.

“Sometimes.” You reply with a weak shrug.

He turns the book over in his hands again and idly runs his palm back and forth against all the flags poking out from between the pages. “And do you.. like this stuff?” He asks, not looking up. “Does it turn you on?”

You swallow hard and nod despite the fact he’s not looking at you.

“Sometimes.” You repeat quietly.

“Huh.”

He purses his lips and nods thoughtfully, standing up and tossing the book onto the bed. “I guess you oughta run then.”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline.

“W-what?” You stutter out, taking a small step back as he closes in on you.

He tsks and reaches out, brushing your wet hair back off your shoulder with two fingers. “You heard me, Liefde.”

You open your mouth to reply but the words are lost the moment he seizes the edge of your towel in his large hand.

Your eyes connect for a brief moment before he yanks the towel free of your body and discards it on the ground, leaving you exposed, confused and incredibly aroused.

His hand settles on your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple and sending a rush of desire straight to your core. He dips his head to nuzzle his forehead against your temple, his tongue flicking against your earlobe.

“You should probably run now.” He warns in a whisper, taking a step back to give you space for a head start.

You stare wide-eyed in disbelief, your head barely able to wrap around what was happening.

“Five.” He says in a threatening tone, bringing his hand down to palm his growing erection under his sweatpants.

You’re frozen to the spot.

There’s no fucking way he’s about to do this.

“Four.”

Okay, maybe he is.

You take off at a run, wanting to reach the living room. Your bare feet pound against the hardwood floor, making it only two steps down before his strong arm catches you around the waist and picks you up effortlessly.

You wiggle against his hold, kicking your feet and thrashing.

“You’re not very fast, you know.” He teases, tightening his grip on you, his cock straining against his sweatpants and pressing into your backside.

He carries you back into the bedroom, his arm locked around you in a vice grip and tosses you onto the bed as if you were weightless. He tugs his sweatpants down and kicks them off, his cock bobbing with every step as he stalks towards you.

You breathe out, your body thrumming with a mix of excitement and desire as your eyes trail down his toned body to land on his fully erect cock. He’s on you in an instant, grabbing your wrist and tossing you to the ground.

You fall hard on your hands and knees onto the soft and silky bed sheet, barely able to steady yourself on all fours. He pinches your ass cheek, the sharp sting making you yelp and arch your back. "On your back," he commands, voice low and authoritative. You obey, scrambling to flip over and presenting yourself to him like an offering. He climbs onto the bed, straddling your hips and lowering himself onto you. His hard cock nudges your entrance, the heat seeping out to coat your folds. He leans down, his lips finding your neck and biting down gently. He palms your breast roughly, rolling your peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Max..” You whisper, your head falling back.

“Yes, Liefde. Tell me what you need.” 

"More," you gasp, arching into his touch. His fingers pinch your nipple harder, making you moan. He obliges, moving down to lap at your breasts with his tongue, suckling and nibbling until you're writhing beneath him.

His mouth trails down your stomach, his tongue leaving a wet path in its wake. He nuzzles your mound, inhaling your scent before spreading your legs wider. His tongue delves between your folds, lapping at your clit and probing your entrance.

He works you over with his mouth, tongue and lips devouring your pussy like a starving man at a feast. He teases your clit with his teeth, flicking it back and forth before sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub. With one arm wrapped around your thigh, holding you open to his assault, he slides a finger inside of you. It curls upwards, searching for that elusive spot that will send you over the edge. He finds it and begins to rub in steady circles. As your body starts to tremble and your juices flow freely, he adds a second finger, scissoring them to stretch you open and prepare you for his thick cock. He pumps his fingers in and out of you at a relentless pace, his thumb still circling your clit and his mouth never leaving your pussy. The low groans of satisfaction and lust escape from him unfiltered, resonating against your skin as he continues his assault. His body tenses with pleasure from bringing you closer to your climax, driving him deeper and deeper into his own indulgence. "Cum for me, Liefde," he growls against your sensitive flesh, the vibrations making you shudder. "I want to taste your release." He doubles his efforts, fingers pistoning into you and his thumb pressing firmly on your clit as he sucks hard on your throbbing nub.

As your body writhes under his expert touch, his free hand reaches up to firmly grasp your breast, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh. He teases and tugs at your hardened nipple, all the while working you towards your peak with his skilled digits and tongue.

“I’ll never get tired of these .” He whispers.

Choked sobs of euphoria escape your throat as your cheek rests against the mattress, while he’s fucking into you with those skillful fingers, the one that were so talented at controlling the steering wheel now moving in and out of your tight, little hole. Your limp body shakes uncontrollably as your pussy spasms and waves of ecstacy crash over you faster than you can count them. Your orgasms explode through you like a string of firecrackers as you curse and mumble incoherently. 

“I- I-“ You stutter, unable to think straight as your head grows dizzy with pleasure. “Oh no, am I fuckin’ my baby stupid?” He asks with a grin, bringing two fingers to tease at your bottom lip. You open on instinct and he slips them into your mouth, letting out a shaky breath as you suck and swirl your tongue around the digits. 

“Tasting yourself, Liefde. Is it good? Someday soon I’m gonna have your juice as a replacement for Red Bull when I’m in the car. You know just to hype myself up a little bit more on the track.” 

At that moment, you swear you were just nodding along with whatever he was saying, knowing he is the one who controls all your orgasms now. 

Max stood up, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Time for the main event," he said, unzipping his pants and freeing his thick, hard cock. He stroked it a few times, the tip glistening with precum. "Are you ready, Liefde.”

“Y…yes.”

He wasted no time, grabbing her hips and thrusting into her from behind. She moaned at the feeling, her walls tightening around him as he started to move.

He went hard and fast, each thrust making her gasp and moan. He slapped her ass, the sound echoing through the room as he kept fucking her. "You like that, Liefde? You like it when I fuck you like this?"

"Yes, yes, fuck me!" she cried out, pushing back against him, desperate for more. He grabbed her hair, yanking her head back as he pounded into her harder, the couch creaking beneath them. "I'm going to fill you up, make you mine,”

His hips start to move faster, the head of his cock spreading your folds open as he teases you with shallow thrusts. With each one, he grinds against you, making sure to hit that sweet spot. His hands move from your thighs to your wrists. He pins them down above your head, holding them there with a firm grip as he begins to thrust into you properly. Each thrust is slow and hard, making you cry out with pleasure. Your back arches off the bed as he pounds into you relentlessly, the headboard banging against the wall with each powerful drive. Beads of sweat drip down his chest, mixing with the trail of precum on his cock as he fucks you into the mattress. “You gonna come, little bird?” He whispers, trying to reference your book and quickening his fingers against your clit. “It’s ‘little mouse’.” You correct him, your lips quirking up into a smirk at his admirable attempt. “Whatever.” He hisses, and with a final thrust, he buries himself as deep as he can go. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He grunts, shoving you forward and falling to his knees. You scramble forward, his cock slipping from your dripping hole as you try to steady yourself in the dizzying wake of your orgasm.

“Oh no, no you don’t.” He growls, grabbing your ankle and dragging you back towards him. You lose your balance and fall flat, your breasts smashed against the cold sheet as he presses his weight down on you, running his cock back and forth along your folds before thrusting back into you. “T-too much!” You whine, squirming underneath him.

“Tell me to stop.” He grunts, knowing damn well you never would. He hooks his forearm under your waist again and angles your hips upward, taking you deeper than you ever thought possible. His cum spills into you in hot, sticky spurts, filling you up and leaking out around the base of his cock. After catching his breath, he pulls out slowly and flops down next to you on the mattress. His fingers trace idle patterns over your skin as he admires the way your chest rises and falls with each breath or how your hair is spread out in a messy halo around your head. 

“Let’s clean you up, Liefde. It’s late and we have plans in the morning.” He says quietly, his eyes slipping closed as his hand runs idly up and down your back. You lean back and look up at him with your brows furrowed in confusion. “We don’t have plans tomorrow.”

His eyes flutter open and he grins. “The hell we don’t.” He replies, reaching for the shampoo bottle and squeezing the contents into the palm of his hand. You open your mouth to protest when he doesn’t answer your question but he simply twirls a finger, gesturing for you to turn around.

You sigh, turning your back to him and he begins to lather the shampoo in your hair, gently massaging your scalp with his fingers. “So what are these plans?” You ask quietly after a long moment of silently enjoying his hands tenderly working through your locks. He leans forward, his broad, wet chest pressing against your back and brings his mouth to hover beside your ear.His breath sends a shiver down your spine as he lets out a low, breathy laugh and whispers, “I’m taking you to buy more books.”

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 85,427 others

yourusername I wanna wear his initial round my neck not because he owns me, but 'cause he really knows me.

tagged: maxverstappen1

view all 50,728 comments

user1 ain’t this max’s gf??? no way he bagged a baddie 😭

user2 my wife 😭

user3 my baby's fly jetstream 🥺 high above the whole scene

user4 I don't rlly think shes his type tbh

user5 thank god I'm not the only one 😭

user6 smells like pr relationship!!!

user7 bro stfu!!! let them live

user9 I still don't like her...

maxverstappen1 but I like her, SO WHAT? yourusername I like u too, Maxemilian Verstappen 🫶🏻 redbullracing we like u too, y/n maxverstappen1 I'm ur driver, why don't u like me? redbullracing 🏃 gotta go bye schecoperez I like u max, don't worry

user10 OH SHE ATEEE

user11 the outfits slay

user12 the M initial stfu

liked by yourusername, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 1,962,028 others

maxverstappen1 I'm the one she's walking to, so call it what you want.

user36 AHHHHH AHHHHH AHHHHH AHHHH

f1 can I call her mine

maxverstappen1 ? redbullracing back off she is ours first

user40 i’m crying??

user41 does this mean i don’t have a chance with y/n anymore ?? ☹️

user42 THAT SHOULDVE BEEN MEE standing next to her

maxverstappen1 it's actually my place, next to her

charles_leclerc congratulations too you both 💗

maxverstappen1 thank you charles 💙💙 yourusername im sorry i took your husband charles 🥺

user43 if my man doesn’t love me as much as max loves y/n i don’t WANT HIM

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 126,882 others

yourusername we went book shopping today and i think he didn't approve all of my romance books 😢

redbullracing dump him

carmenmmundt i agree lilymhe me too maxverstappen1 i don't

username43 what’s the better view? max or y/n?

yourusername me ofc maxverstappen1 her ❤️ username43 go away u lovebirds is my comment section 🥲

username44 look at how in love they are omg

username45 hope you both got a well deserved break!!

maxverstappen1 you make me the happiest Liefde 🥰 BUT please I can't keep up with ur books anymore and we ran out of space on the shelves already

landonorris buy a bigger house then redbullracing u can always leave ur books at our headquarter yourusername see Maxie

username46 can I have a relationship like this in the future pls

[insanermin]

minors and men dni!

ೃ⁀➷ellie and you go costume shopping for halloween, but you take a detour to the changing room, i guess ellie's costume is wearing you on her fingers... (getting fingered in a changing room? hell yeahhhh).ೃ࿐

"costume shopping is silly?" ellie whispers into your neck, hot air tickling your skin as she scoffs at the sight of you. you are pushed into the corner of the changing room, one hand pressed against the mirror smudging it and the other digging into her back, you just got a new set of stiletto nails ellie has been begging you to get and try them out on her. however, this was not how you have been imagining to leave scratch marks on her back, it was more of a 'you and her in bed', horizontally, or you on her lap. but it doesn't matter, your mind is occupied with figuring out how many fingers are inside of you and remembering the question ellie just asked you all while trying to keep quiet. and in result of that, only a mindless 'hmm?' escapes your mouth—if the auburn-haired woman wasn't asking you a question, then it was a moan for sure.

but it only makes ellie more cocky, you know by the way she curls her fingers inside of you, the way her grip around your waist tightens, like you're her possession. her face draws closer to your neck again, repeating her question, dragging word for word over your sensitive skin, you jolt back, eyes widening in surprise as your ass bangs against the wooden wall of the changing room.

"fuck," you mutter, but ellie slowing down her thrusts and whispering an 'it's okay' before kissing you softly makes you forget about possibly everyone hearing the two of you fucking. her fingers are still deep inside of you and she has no plans of getting them out of you anytime soon and while you don't like to show it, you don't want her to stop either. in fact you are so wet, you wish you could simply absorb her, you want more, you need more. so you pull away from ellie's soft kisses and slowly start thrusting your hips towards her, desperation overcomes you and you suddenly pick up the speed, making ellie lose her balance.

you watch her cheeks turn red and ellie looks so cute all flustered, but you are too horny to keep on waiting to cum.

"keep up," you whisper, eyes rolling back as your hips rock back and forth, fuck does she feel good. she blushes a little harder at your words, there's nothing else on this world she'd rather do than make what's hers feel good, hit that sweet spot of yours and watch you fall apart at her touch. your pussy clenches around her fingers, your teeth dragging at her lips as she glides her free hand over your body to squeeze your tits.

little moans escape from you, but you aren't the only one huffing and puffing, ellie's breath stagnates with every kiss she drags from your lips to your collarbones. it just makes you want to release, all the sloppy wet kisses and her fingers pushing inside you, filling you up. ellie could swear that you were dripping down her forearm, most likely leaving stains on her sleeves she forgot to cuff. but she doesn't care, all she cares about is making you cum.

"is three okay?" she asks, you nod hastily.

ellie is watching you, holding eye contact while she inserts another finger, your mind is far too gone to hold up eye contact, your eyes roll into the back of your mind.

so she leans in, her breath is steadier than yours, lips devouring you. ellie's fingers start out curling slowly and you push your pelvic harder into her hand.

you can't help it, your body just reacts to her and you are desperate, in a way ellie rarely gets to see. and it is exactly what keeps her going, your desperation for her, the way your body moves against hers, the taste of your lips and the sound of your breath. you are perfect and watching you struggle with every thrust satisfies her immense hunger. you feel so full but so weak, you can't keep up rocking your hips against her any longer, your legs begin to shake, nails digging into her arms to keep yourself from sinking. but you start clenching around her fingers harder and faster while it's getting more difficult to stay quiet being so breathless. you nuzzle your face into her neck in attempt to muffle your moans but she is fingering you so good, how could you not gasp for air? your movements become wilder, almost there, you think to yourself as

you try to ride her fingers, but ellie won't let you have it your way. you glance at her for once, strands of her hair sticking to her forehead, rosy cheeks and sweat pearls rolling down her neck, she looks so pretty like this. she's been putting a lot of work into you so instinctively you want to reach for her face and stroke her cheekbone, however your hand makes a full stop at her nape and your expression clarifies at the realization that you're about to cum. you're out of your mind, ellie pushes her fingers in diligently, the way you clench around her fingers makes her go insane. she nibbles on your ear, "you're doing well," she says.

you roll your eyes and before you're able to leave a snarky comment, your breaths become shorter, deeper, you drag out your exhales—you're just a hot mess of needy hums. all tensed up, your back is arched, you're sweaty and breathless.

and it doesn't take ellie long to figure out how to release all of that tension, just one look at you and she knows how to curl her fingers, how to fuck you. and she takes pride in that, it takes just one right angle for you to momentarily hold your breath, look into her green eyes, "go ahead," she whispers. and you do, your eyes roll back as you exhale shakily, unclench around her fingers and your legs completely lose its strength, she makes you cum just like that.

your body is twitching, her fingers are still inside of you and she stays inside for a second before taking them out to show you how wet you are. ellie pulls you closer and sucks her fingers clean, making sure you watch before she leans in for a kiss, slipping in her tongue for you to taste yourself. you pull away, "you're getting good at this," you whisper, her eyes light up before overconfidence plasters over her whole face.

"i've been telling you," she says, but asks in the same breath if you really thought so, she's adorable.

and then she helps you pull your pants back up, you adjust your hair and pull on your clothes to make sure you look less like you just got fucked well. the two of you leave, power walking out of the store avoiding eye contact from anyone, costumes long forgotten in the changing room.

"just wait until we get home," you say, not giving anything away. you just can't let ellie get away with the games she likes to play with you but luckily, the wand and the rabbit you charged this morning were awaiting the auburn-haired woman for a long and steamy night.

[stareaterau]

Chapter 1 episode 5

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(special thanks to @bucket-of-cheese for this episode cover art!, as well as @karkatwaddles @chip-the-dip @scrambledlikeeggs @kairamuwu with editing)

---

Our favourites cross paths

CW: threats made with a weapon, mentions of injuries

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Time passes, though horribly slower in the desert heat.

Grian and Scar both spend their morning groggy and aching from the phantom fight the previous evening. Not to mention the little rest they were able to get during the relatively short night that this planet provides.

Now that they feel rested enough, Grian shoots up high above the canyon with a few strong beats of his wings. Scar watches him from the ground as he makes a few circles in the sky before he dives down back to join him. With a greater bearing on his surroundings, thanks to the high vantage point, Grian picks a direction that seems most prominent to head towards. He returns grumbling about how he could see something in the distance, but it looked like nothing more than a bunch of junk to him. Not much of the optimist it seems, but Scar prides himself on being able to make the most of any situation. He pats Grian's back, giving a small speech about how 'that a bunch of junk was better than nothing after all'. Grian blinks slowly, reluctantly agreeing. They have a destination now!

Grian consistently finds himself needing to catch up with Scar, occasionally mumbling about how the ground is too flat and something about bird feet. It’s obvious by how he’s fidgeting that he’d rather be flying, even though that option means either leaving Scar behind or carrying him there. And as much as Scar wants to ask, he’s also scared he might lose an eye as a result.

He leaves the slightly personal question unasked, the conversation instead being filled with Grian complaining about walking. He hesitates when their passage opens up to the blaring, exposed sun. Holding his hand up to shield himself from the harsh light, he scrunches his face, occasionally wincing when his hot metal limbs hit his skin with his heavy, tired steps.

Scar himself isn’t having much of a fun time either. The leg braces he uses aren’t meant to be put under a lot of strain for such a long time. It’s only a matter of time before they might snap. The grains of sand grating against them are probably hastening the unit's deterioration. He'll have to use Grian as support if they do break.. and go through the laborious task of requesting a new pair from the Vindicators.

Occasionally they have to take a break, with Scar trying to brush as much dust and sand from the joints of the braces, doing the most he can to slow down any decay it might have caused them. On the other hand, Grian uses the opportunity to rest, immediately slumping against the nearest wall and fanning himself with his tail.

Scar has long since taken off his jacket and tied it around his waist, relieved by the fact he'd been wearing a tank top underneath. The lack of sleeves feels like a world of difference in the heat, not that he wouldn't take it off completely if need be, despite his company. Every so often, he catches Grian's lingering looks when he thinks Scar isn't watching, his expression weirdly guarded and lost in thought. One time, when he notices he’s being examined, Scar flexes jokingly in response, receiving a roll of the eyes and quiet mutterings about indecency.

Despite how hot it is and how much his company seems to fidget and scratch at the uncomfortable feathers underneath, Grian seems insistent on keeping his layers on.

Finally, they reenter the shade, and the winged man groans, flinging around his stiff arms.

”What's wrong?” Scar turns around, watching as the strange man shakes out his feathers. Sand rains down as he does as if the sunlight has been caking him in the sand.

"I lost my helmet and, therefore, my visor. It sucks."

“Sucks how?"

"The light hurts my eyes." Grian rubs at his temples, scrunching his eyes closed.

Scar tilts his head in response, confused. It’s bright, not enough to be painful yet, but it’s clearly bothering Grian more somehow.

When he’s met with a lack of a retort, Grian glances up at Scar, quickly taking note of his confused expression. He rolls his eyes like he knows what Scar is thinking.

"I'm a glare," he says so simply, answering the unspoken question.

"Not… glare-leaning? Or an avian?" Scar, not so subtly, looks Grian up and down, the other tensing uncomfortably with a weird look to match.

"No."

"But…" Scar trails off, not quite being sure how to ask respectfully.

"I have wings?" Grian finishes for him, like he’s heard it all before. Tucking his wings behind his back on reflex, he takes in a deep breath, as if psyching himself up for a speech.

A series of looks flash across his face. Scar waits patiently, only for Grian to breathe out a quiet "Yeah," with no further elaboration.

"Glares can have wings?"

"This one can. It's complicated." Grian walks past Scar, losing eye contact deliberately as he strolls ahead. He doesn’t appear upset at least, bored is the closest to how Scar could describe it.

"But… How?" Scar asks cautiously, against his better judgment.

"Family curse from hitting a magical bird with a ship centuries ago." Grian holds his hands out, imitating piloting, before hitting his hands together with a metal clank. "BAM! Wings for all your firstborns."

"Wait, really?" Scar exclaims. Genuinely believing Grian’s story. He catches up to him with a quick jog, looking to the glare in an attempt to get a read of his face only to be met with a smirk. Oh.

"Nah-" Grian chuckles to himself, patting Scar on the shoulder.

Scar watches as he continues up ahead, looking at the feathered tail with a new perspective. A glare. That explains why his feathers look so real — they’re a feature all Glares possess to varying degrees – and his deep inky eyes that never seem to shrink, even in the harsh light. Maybe the wings are just artificial add-ons, but that doesn’t feel right — they’re far too realistic and fluid. He shakes the thought out of his head. It probably isn’t polite to dwell on it, the subject is obviously something Grian doesn’t want to talk about.

But no, Scar isn’t about to be done with this conversation completely.

"Prove you’re a glare, then."

Grian, who had walked slightly ahead, stops and turns around to give Scar an almost offended look before he shrugs, replacing it with an amused, yet tired one.

“Sure,” he says with a resigned sigh.

Without warning, everything in Scar’s sight goes dark, like an all-encompassing shadow out of nowhere, the murky nothingness only just reaching his toes. He sticks his hands out in front of him, looking at them as they become outlined by a dark void.

He knows what this is. Most glares possess this skill, it’s the baseline ability tied to their magic. ��Darkness’ he thinks he remembers it being called. Scar has never experienced it first hand though, and he can’t help but ogle the slightly frightening power.

“Whoah-”

As quickly as it appeared, the gloom flees, leaving him with the less-than-friendly, hot reflective sands.

Grian looks at him curiously, his arms crossed.

“Okay, so believe me now?”

Scar smiles, nodding vigorously.

“That was sooo cool!!”

Grian very hesitantly smiles back, turning away before Scar can process it completely.

Despite his wary demeanour, he secretly revels in the reaction, not quite being able to help but grin to himself.

“Can you do illusion magic too?” Scar asks, making Grian's steps hesitate for just a second, the mood in the air changing quickly. His back is still facing Scar, but it doesn’t stop him from noticing the slight shudder in Grian’s shoulders, and the subtle flicks of his feathers.

“…No,” is all he says in slow response… too slowly.

Ah, so another sour subject, it feels like Scar is collecting them all. As much as he wants to pry, he feels like he has asked enough.

There’s a lapse in their conversation as Scar's eyes wander. They both continue walking, albeit slowly, probably due to Grian's obvious intent to savour the shade when passing through it.

"If the sun's bothering you that much, why don't you just do the darkness thing to yourself?" Scar inquires, filling the silence.

"That's not how it works. It's only a perception, I don't actually switch off the sun," Grian replies, his voice back with some light, the previous question forgotten.

"Oh."

"And trust me, oh how I want to switch off this sun." He holds his long claws up to the sky, imitating crushing the light that peeks from the shade touching the tips of his claws.

“I'll still get the painful headache even if I make everything dark for me.”

Scar glances down to his waist, where his own helmet has been clipped. He once again catches up to Grian, leg braces creaking slightly.

"… I could give you my helmet." He hands it to him.

Grian looks down at the poor thing with a gentle look on his face.

"It's got a huge crack in it, so it's pretty much useless. Sorry about that, by the way." He flicks a guilty look at Scar before settling back into stride ahead of him.

"I wouldn't call it useless-'' Scar looks down at it with a frown. He hopes he can repair it, it’s dear to him.

"Even if it wasn't, I would never put that thing on."

"What’s wrong with the cat ears?" Scar questions, a smile evident in his voice. He knows well that it isn’t his cute accessories that’s deterring Grian from putting the helmet on, he just thinks it’s amusing to indicate so.

He holds up the helmet up in front of Grian, closing one eye and envisioning him wearing it with a smirk.

Grian squawks out a laugh and pushes the helmet aside, "Hah. Ironically, I don’t have a problem with that, though I wouldn’t break the dress code just to put cat ears on a helmet."

"You know about the codes?"

"Sorta. I mean, I've unfortunately become very familiar with them – know your enemy or whatever."

"You really don't like vindicators, then," Scar says, with no malice in his voice. He’s more curious than anything.

"I feel like that much should be obvious."

Scar hops ahead of Grian, stepping slightly in front of him so that Grian has no choice but to look at him. "Well, I'm okay, right?" Scar smiles tilting his head.

He watches the bird’s gaze shift from the dust on Scar’s boots up to meet his eye, a brow raised.

And with a genuine smile and quiet laugh, Grian answers "Yeah, you're alright".

—

"Be careful they might be dangerous."

While navigating through a particularly maze-like part of the ravine. Grian had stopped abruptly, and grabbed Scar by the shirt mid-conversation, pulling him around a corner.

Scar attempted to ask what was wrong only for Grian to shush him, hissing about how he’d seen two figures deeper in.

Wiggling slightly out of Grian's hold, Scar popped his head around briefly, catching a glance at their new company.

There were, in fact, two figures who sat up against a stony wall as the passage opened up, connecting to another, larger passage. Scar and Grian had an advantage, as the corner shielded them from view. One figure had their back to them, their large silhouette obscuring the other figure from view. The only indication there was even two, being the distinct overlap of a conversation that could barely be heard from where Grian and Scar were hidden.

And that brings them to the present, with Scar tapping his chin, debating different ideas of how to approach them. Grian listens as he impatiently claws at the ground, grumbling at each suggestion that leaves the other's mouth.

There’s a quiet shift in the sand to Scar's side and he turns to watch as Grian shifts closer to him, his shoulders hunched slightly and wings puffed up.

Scar finds himself suppressing the urge to compare him to a pinecone.

"Why would they be dangerous?" Scar asks, tilting his head slightly. Confused about the other's comment.

Grian splutters, mouth working but not making noises aside from baffled squeaks before he eventually coughs.

"… I mean, I was a stranger a mere hours ago and I had a blade to your heart, dude." His voice pitches up at the end, causing him to flinch when it echoes slightly against the walls. He ducks as if that would stop the sound, scooting closer to Scar, further from the stranger's direction.

"….Well, you're not doing that right now." Scar smiles a wide grin, hushing his voice pointedly before shrugging.

Grian just stares at him, almost as if testing Scar’s smile, before he rolls his eyes and scoffs,

"… Can't argue with that logic."

Scar's smile grows slowly, bright and excited at Grian's agreement. He watches all of Grian's feathers stand up even more somehow, catching on to Scar's enthusiasm.

“Don't-”

"Glad you trust me!" Scar beams.

"I wouldn't go that far, trust is a strong word," Grian pulls a dubious look before grumbling and looking away. He shakes his shoulders as if trying to suppress the stress that’s putting him and his feathers on edge.

“I honestly don't think it's a good idea to even approach them– People are almost always bad news in these situations. We could just work our way around them…” he trails off mumbling to himself.

“But that's no fun!” Scar hums lightly, nudging the bird out of his strategizing. “Besides, they could help us!”

Grian doesn’t reply, just huffs with a scowl that squishes his face comically.

Scar absently scratches at his chin before he leans up against the wall pressing his forearm high above Grian, leaning over, the other doing a double take, clearly taken back by how much Scar is leaning over into his space. He'll have to put on his charm to try and convince the bird, his most effective tactic.

"You're nervous but I can assure you this, I can gain any advantage in a situation, just by talking" He gives him a cheesy lopsided grin.

"What- do you possess the ability to talk someone to death? Boredom? Into sleep, perhaps?" Grian replies in the most mocking and deadpan tone, meeting his energy.

"All of the above!!! Depending on the weather of course," He says, leaning in slightly with a whisper before bouncing back to that quietish tone of his, "and then I steal their stuff!!" Scar grins with more eagerness than Grian has seen in quite some time, causing the glare to let out a slight wheeze of laughter, raising an incredulous brow.

"Wow, you're really starting to sound more like a criminal." He veers his head to the side, grinning widely up at Scar, and bearing his sharp teeth.

Scar retracts his arm from the wall, an unsure look spoiling his smile. He can’t help darting his eyes to the side, almost taken aback by the former statement. "I mean … not if they're the bad guy, right?"

“That's a very rudimentary way of thinking.” Grian's grin falters slightly, that cold look flickering over him briefly, as his eyes narrow. He shakes away whatever thought he had, bringing the prior conversation back.

“Fine, you do you're talking thing then,” the bird swats at the air absently.

“And you'll be my hype man?” Scar bounces on his toes excitedly.

Grian gives too blank of an expression before pushing up his shoulders. “I'll do something,”

“AHA! Be amazed, small friend! At my infectious likeableness,” Scar stands up straighter and puffs out his chest, before moving to turn around the corner between them and the strangers only for sharp claws to gently grab his arm.

“Wait-”

“Oh oh! W-what?” Scar looks around shocked, but nothing is amiss, just the surprisingly warm touch of metal talons.

“You're intending to make a good impression, right?”

Scar splutters awkwardly as Grian doesn’t give him time to answer the obvious question.

“My advice? I'd hide that you're a Vindicator."

“…why?”

“Ah–” Grian awkwardly chuckles, retracting his grip and scratching at his head. “I thought I’d already established that the general public isn't too fond–” he loosely gestures Scar up and down.

Scar raises a brow, leaning on his hip and looking down at the bird. “Really? Are you the general public?” He smirks at his own witty remark.

“Just take my word for it, this definitely isn't Spawn, and I bet you haven't even travelled off planet before. You have that sparkly dumb innocent look in your eyes–”

Scar gasps and clutches his hand to his chest in false offence.

“I’m just saying, if you wanna do the whole friendly talking thing, I'd recommend not immediately making it known that you're a Vindicator.” Grian huffs.

Scar looks down dumbly at the bright blue jacket tied around his waist. Grian follows his line of sight and muffles a laugh, noticing Scar's mild panic at the glaring obvious beacon of his faction, taunting him along with a bright stitched ‘V’ clearly visible even with it tied at his waist.

“Just– turn it inside out or something–”

“Oh! Smart!” Scar claps his hands, wincing as the noise echoed against the walls. Grian glares at him.

He fumbles with the jacket, taking it off and turning it inside out before tying it back around his waist, and nodding with satisfaction. He looks back towards Grian, the glare watching him slightly amused. “Now, Bird friend, watch as I charm these members of the ‘general public’ with my insatiable charisma!”

“… You already said that. There's only so much ‘impressed’ I can hand out, I'm afraid.”

Scar ignores him as he brushes off as much dust as he can to look somewhat presentable. He leans forward with a step but stops as quickly as he started when his company doesn't make a move with him.

“You're not… coming with??”

“I am, I just want to linger back, for safety reasons– you know?” Grian still stands with his arms crossed but his face has morphed into something far more neutral, clawed feet firmly digging into their place in the sand.

“Oh! Smart!” Scar replies. He continues, but not before catching the faint flicker of a smile from his companion.

Scar confidently marches towards the strangers, too distracted by his plan to notice the quiet whoosh of feathers behind him.

“Why, hello there!”

“EEEEK!”

“OH MY GOSH–” both of the strangers scream at Scar, frantically scrambling back in the sand up to a stand.

The shorter one gawks at Scar, their left arm held stiffly as their right tugs on the other's sleeve pulling them both back further. They push themselves in front in an act that almost could have been intimidating if the other wasn't practically two times their size.

Now, up close, Scar takes the two in. The shorter one appears to be a blazeborn, fuzzy and yellow with clothes that looked like they weren't originally suited for the heat, evident by the thick winter coat tied around their waist, mirroring Scar’s, and the torn-off sleeves of their shirt. The other stands several heads taller, also strangely cradling their right arm. They’re far less identifiable, but the several neat feathers that frame their face and shoulders definitely imply that they’re probably at least glare adjacent, even with their height. They’re wearing what can be described as cowboy attire, sans a hat, and look far more in place in this setting.

“Oh, you're just a guy…” the taller one eventually speaks out after their initial panic.

“Yup, just a guy!” Scar stands up straighter, suppressing a wince as his leg braces squeak obnoxiously. “Sorry to cause a fright,” he smiles apologetically.

The two of them glance at each other, then back to Scar with bewildered expressions.

“I think I might be lost! And maybe you are too? We were wondering if you could help”.

“We?” One of them asks.

“OH! Well! I'm Scar and this here is my lackey.” He turns to look for Grian only to be met with the empty, dusty ground and no bird in sight.

“They're …not here?”

“Who-” Scar hears one of them ask. He doesn’t even have time to turn to identify who before a flurry of feathers swoops down and blocks his view.

The two figures scream for a second time as the taller one is pushed roughly aside by brown wings, falling clumsy in the sand and landing in a way that causes them to choke out a yelp.

“OW OW OW, I CAN'T SEE!” They sit up quickly with one arm hanging loosely over their chest, the other grasping and rubbing at their face and eyes in confusion. They continue to yell in panic, “WHAT HAPPENED I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING-”

“Drop whatever weapons you have,” Grian turns, holding the blaze in his grasp. He holds his wings wrapped around them, keeping their arms pinned. He uses one of his clawed hands to cover their mouth, the other holding a blue, glowing blade to their neck.

“What- what happened to the talking plan?” Scar sways on his feet. Too much is happening in such a brief moment, and all his plans for conversations are useless, blown to the wind.

“Too slow,” Grian replies bluntly.

The figure in Grian’s grasp desperately tries to muster out a muffled scream against Grian's hand, only causing the bird to tighten his hold and sword to their neck.

Scar feels lost. He looks to the other who is still on the ground, using one hand to touch the sand.

“I can't see!- It's all dark- Tango?!-”

The pure distress in their voices, mixed with the muffled yelping of the other, makes Scar falter, his mind short-circuiting in the chaos. He weirdly feels scared, that same fear of Grian and his cold look is all too familiar to barely a day ago. A fear that he apparently didn't realise still has a frightful hold on him, his shoulder pulsing passively with pain on cue with the memory.

Despite the fear, he can’t help but step forward, reaching out to diffuse the situation.

Strangely enough, Grian flinches back. He stares up at Scar like he had completely forgotten he was there, his confused look immediately being chased away as the trapped stranger shifts in his hold. His expression quickly returning to an unreadable one.

“Let them talk… maybe? Please?” Scar asks slowly. Grian looks up at him with those deep dark eyes, cold and empty before a nearly embarrassed look crosses his face. He lowers the hand that had held the stranger's mouth, but the blade, however, is still pinned to their throat.

Immediately the blaze gasps and begins yelling “Please we're injured, we mean no harm- please-”

“…. Huh,” Grian squeezes tighter subconsciously, as they kick in his grasp.

“Our arms- OW! QUIT IT- LET GO!”

They shove against Grian, his grip loosening just enough for them to push out as he moves his blade. All of a sudden the bird looks incredibly guilty.

“What the hell man!” The shorter man scrambles to their partner's side, leaning down and giving them their arm to grab onto. They keep their eyes on Grian, scowling as the other weakly uses their hold to stand up.

In an almost too cheery voice for the situation, the taller one speaks, “I can see again! What was that?”

Their gaze immediately lands on Grian, who tenses under it.

“You’re a bird?” They mutter dumbly after rubbing their eyes and squinting at him.

Grian steps back, still holding his weapon by his side. He gives the tall man a look up and down his expression twisting into something uncomfortable.

“Not one of yours,” he mumbles back.

“Sorry, sorry?” the taller coughs, completely confused, but Grian ignores them.

“You're hurt, both of you?” Grian hums, pointing the end of his sword in their direction as he makes a move to stand by Scar's side, who stands, silently wringing his hands, considering his next steps.

They both nod, fear and anger plain on their faces, each holding an arm tightly to their chests.

A quiet sort of relief washes over Grian as he puts away his sword. His expression morphing into amusement, with a tinge of sheepishness.

“Wow, that's inconvenient! You don't pose much of a threat then, huh?” He tries to joke and smile, the expression faulting only when their company makes no indication of finding that comment funny, at all.

Scar shifts awkwardly to his side, considering many different options on what to do next moves through his head before he steps in front of Grian, a goofy grin being plastered across his lips.

“So… maybe we should start over?”

“You think?” The blaze spits, their shimmering flame-like hair sparking in reaction.

“We were only taking precautions, there are dangerous people in this big universe, you know!” Scar tries to lessen the anger with that same cheesy grin.

“I'd argue, you're one of them! Or at least they are,” They point towards the bird, who does nothing but look away, crossing his arms.

“Just a common misunderstanding, we apologise. Let me reintroduce myself-” Scar tries to step forward with a handshake, but both of them move away from him pointedly. Instead, he retreats to Grian’s side, putting his hands up defensively, giving them more space to feel safe.

“Well, I'm Scar! Like I- already mentioned-” he nervously chuckles the last bit, then gestures to the glare. “-and this is Grian”

“Ah, so we're giving them our names- cool,” the other grumbles, his back practically turned to them, appearing like he’s given up on the exchange.

A tense atmosphere falls heavily on the four as awkward silence fills the air. Scar's eyes glance to the taller of the duo, who meets his gaze with a similar, nervous expression, unlike the blazeborn who stands next to them, festering with an anger that seems to almost crackle off of them in flames.

The tall one eventually finds the courage to speak, unsure and hesitant, without the anger and murderous look that their companion seems to have.

"Well, I'm Jimmy! And this is Tango!" Jimmy speaks with a similar cheer and charisma to Scar.

"Yup," the blaze, Tango, snaps with a slight snarl on his lips. His injured arm tightly held against his body, crossing over his chest as he stares daggers in the direction of Scar and Grian. There’s another pause of quiet that only causes the air to grow more uneasy, so thick with awkwardness that it can be cut with a knife. Tango and Grian stand their ground while Jimmy begins to kick at the sand absent-mindedly and an awkward cough escapes from Scar.

The former can't help but wring his hands once again, standing unsure in the moment before he decides to speak once again, "You seem tense,"

"YOU THINK?" Tango barks out, that snarl only growing angrier as he drops his hand to his side and balls it into raging fists.

Jimmy quickly tries to hop to some sort of defence, "We haven't seen anybody yet- we didn't really expect anyone to-" he’s cut off by Tango's eyes whipping over to look at him, the blazeborn pointing a finger to his neck,

"A KNIFE. TO MY THROAT." He speaks loud and clear making it obvious, if anyone can't tell, why he’s angry.

At that, Grian turns to the conversation, his tail flicking behind him. “Ah- Well, I didn't break your skin and, you know, I apologised.”

“Actually, you haven’t-” Jimmy points out, frowning.

“Oh… sorry?” Grian shrugs.

“I already dislike you-”

He ignores Jimmy turning to Scar with a neutral expression, “Right, Scar, ready to go?“

“What?”

“YOU'RE GOING TO JUST LEAVE US?” Jimmy shouts whilst Tango just looks unsurprised.

“Well, you're both injured so-” Grian says nonchalantly, not bothering to finish his sentence like it’s obvious.

“THAT'S CRIMINAL-” Jimmy squawkes.

Grian doesn’t reply, instead, lightly reaching for Scar, a weird sort of hesitance to his grasp, looking as if he’s going to grab Scar's arm, only to move to pull at his shirt. Scar doesn't move.

“We could- help them?”

Grian looks at him with a troubled look but doesn't say anything in response.

“You know?” He, in fact, makes no indication of knowing. “We have medical supplies, remember?”

Tango's eyebrow shoots up, his angry scowl morphing into intrigue. “Healing?”

“SCAR- Cool now they know our names and our resources-” the bird grumbles, Eying the two with a cold glare. He crunches up his nose, then looks back to Scar. “We're not giving them anything for free.”

“…Well I mean, we could always offer a trade.” Scar tries to smile, trying his best to appeal to Grian with a warm grin.

Grian takes in a deep breath, contemplating for a couple of seconds before he points at the strangers and clicks his tongue. “What do you two have to offer?”

“Do you have an ender chest?” Scar pipes in quickly.

“…No.”

“We don't really have anything-”

Grian hums in acknowledgement then smirks at Scar. “There you go, shall we leave then-”

Tango interrupts quickly as the winged man once again tries to pull Scar away. “We have some knowledge! You said you’re lost! I know some things to help! About this game-”

“Game?” Scar repeats.

“No thank you-” Grian now switches from pulling at Scar to pushing him.

“But aren't you curious? We have theories!”

“All good, we have our own plans, thank you.” He huffs in an effort to try and move Scar, but for once Scar has an advantage over him in height and strength. He barely moves.

“Okay! Deal!” Scar finally replies.

“SCAR!” Grian stops pushing Scar, instead staring at him like an angry feathered hedgehog. It takes all of Scar’s willpower not to laugh at him.

“We'll only tell you anything once you heal us,” Tango adds.

“Hah! As if that wasn't already a bad deal-” Grian mumbles mostly to himself.

“-What about during?”

“Okay, during.” Tango agrees to Scar.

Grian finally acknowledges the blaze, as he holds a hand to his chest and baps at Scar with the other. He scowles between them all. “Hey, hey. I'm the one with the supplies, you should be negotiating with me-”

He cuts himself off at the look Scar gives him. His lips press into a tight frown as he crosses his arms and taps his claws, the processing of his thoughts buried deep in his brow.

Scar tilts his head at him slightly.

“Ugh fine,” Grian finally relents, before huffing off to the side and making an upset display of sitting down and disrupting the dusty sand with a flap of his wings, the others coughing slightly.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Take a seat. Let me heal your stupid bones,” he finally spits when the others don’t make any motion, prompting the pair to finally move.

“Oh, it's really rich of you to think I'd let you get anywhere near to my arm again-” Tango replies, unamused.

“Well you're going to just have to deal with it,” Grian replies to Tango with a sardonic grin, “These are my supplies and I'd like to keep some autonomy in this situation.”

“If it makes you feel any better he healed me pretty well,” Scar chimes in, pulling his tank top aside, to show off the slightly bloody gauze. Tango scrutinises the wound, hissing sympathetically, looking towards Grian who’s trying and failing to look not guilty.

“… I suppose.” Jimmy hums, next to Tango.

Both he and Tango awkwardly shuffle towards the winged man, within arms reach of each other, they sit down in unison, Tango’s tail hooking onto Jimmy's ankle.

“You! Beanpole! Give me your arm” Grian moves closer, sitting up on his knees.

“Me?” Jimmy replies confused.

“Yes you, I don't see any actual bean poles around here do you? I'm talking to your daft mug.”

“You don't have to insult me so much, man-” Jimmy grumbles as he complies, as Grian makes a start on assessing his injuries.

There’s a couple of minutes of uncomfortable quiet, occasionally interrupted by grumbles and yelps. Scar stands, watching his company. He looks towards Tango, who it keeping a calculated watch on what Grian is doing.

“You didn't expect to be here…” Scar slowly sits in front of Tango. His eyes bright with intrigue.

Tango just turns to look at him confused. “What?”

“Those clothes-” Scar points at the thick coat, cushioning the blaze as he sits crossed-legged.

“Oh! OH, that's actually pretty intuitive.” He smiles at Scar and scoots closer indicating for him to listen.

“Yeah I'm not from here, I was working on a pretty cold planet, before …uh.”

“Waking up with no memories of how you got here?” Scar finishes, beaming.

Tango leans back, his grin faltering slightly. “…Yeah.”

“How'd you know that!?” Jimmy asks from behind them, apparently having been listening in.

“We're the same! Actually! We don't remember at all how we got here.”

“Even him?” Tango gestures coldly over his shoulders, not even looking in Grian's direction.

“Even him!”

“Interesting,” Tango appears to drift into his thoughts before Grian coughs loudly.

“Alright then, if you want me to do this, well, you better start to tell your story.”

Tango shoots him an angry look, then dusts off his trousers before sitting up straight, getting comfortable. He looks at Scar, coughs, and smiles.

“Well, first you gotta know some of my history.”

Scar watches Grian roll his eyes from over Tango's shoulder.

“I worked as… hmmm sorta freelance. I'm an architect, redstoner- weird lil’ guy with a nac for bizarre contraptions. I take all and any kind of jobs I can find across the universe, a travelling mechanic if you will,” Tango grins, pleased. “I'm actually- saving up so I can own a hermit settlement, start a small self-sustaining industry, build all kinds of wacky farms! Just work for me, you know?”

He pauses, waiting for a response only to be met with puzzled looks.

“Uhhh that's beside the point. What I’m getting at is that owning the land to make a hermit settlement is a lot of money and prep. And as it goes, the jobs that pay the most tend to be the most…. questionable. I like to believe I'm a good judge of character when it comes to my clients, I know when the people who are giving me a tempting offer are bad news, and I usually decline. I'm not about putting myself in trouble for a pretty price.”

Tango inhales, his thumb worrying over his knuckle, and continues.

“But there was this one job- These very mysterious individuals offered me a job to create a game! It honestly was a very tempting offer, because they were giving me so much free range with what I built. The only requirement was that any number of people could enter the game and there could only be one winner. And they offered me a lot of money for it.”

Scar clocks Grian making a small sneer.

“So I took it, I took the deal and started designing my game. I uhhh- I sort of made, think like… dungeon crawler type deal.”

“Wait but you said you didn't make dungeons,” Jimmy interrupts.

“Going to be honest, I didn't expect you to hit that nail on the head.” Tango turns to Jimmy, giving him a small smile, before patting him gently on his shoulder. “Pretty impressive.”

Jimmy splutters, his expressions flip flopping between being offended and proud.

“Anyway… as I was saying, the more I worked for them, the more I started to suspect a few things. They kept insisting on things in my design to be more…”

He swirled his hand around “Let's say lethal. And that was before I started noticing how much resources and wealth my employer owned. They kept giving me things with ease, I started even asking for stuff I knew was hard to find like enchantments and whatnot. And they didn't even sweat.”

He cuts himself off, a conflicted look shadowing his face.

“When I put my energy into a project, I put my whole heart in. This dungeon was my… my child! I’d been working on it for months! Almost years! I didn't like how they were twisting it. They kept taking away the things I included to make the game fair. And that was my last straw.”

“I ran, and I tried to take all the important endgame design prints with me. I couldn't let them use my work to hurt people in the gruesome ways that they so clearly wanted to do. And now I'm here.”

“…Oh, that's rough,” Scar replies.

Nodding Tango stares down at his lap, rubbing at the worn pads of his hands. He looks genuinely sad for a minute before he shakes that look away and carries on.

“Yeah, so what I'm saying is- I got to see enough of the kind of work these people were doing to notice a pattern.”

“The people I worked for were definitely Enders, and I believe they're probably pretty high up considering rather than taking planets and trading pearls, they were employing people to take their enemies and put them into ‘games' for their entertainment.”

“And I think we're in one of those games right now,”

Tango grins wildly, holding a finger up to emphasise his conclusion.

“WHOA, what really?”

“Ugh,” Grian grumbles.

“And if my assumption is correct, I think we've all wronged an Ender before, right?”

He shuffles so that all four of them were sat in a circle.

“I mean- me! Clearly, with leaving the job.” He points to himself and then to Jimmy. “You said something about Enders secretly operating in the town you were sheriffing.”

Grian’s gloomy expression immediately gets replaced with intrigue as he looks up from his lap for the first time during the conversation with Jimmy.

“You're a sheriff?” Scar asks.

“YES, I am for a matter of fact, from a small town on the Nether.” Jimmy smiles widely, adjusting his hair confidently.

“Now that's surprising…” Grian remarks to himself.

Jimmy either doesn't hear or ignores him as he continues. “Well it's more a self-proclaimed title, not much goes on in my town and I mostly just… give directions to the elderly and get bullied by local kids,”

“Nevermind.”

Jimmy shoots Grian a dirty look, the latter smirking back before he goes back to working on the supplies in his lap.

“But yes! Recently I tried to uncover a mystery and encountered Enders,”

“And that's the last thing you remember doing right?” Tango inquires.

“… Yeah, actually.”

He looks towards Scar “And you… what about you?”

“Oh.”

Everyone looks at Scar with intrigue. Grian has his head dipped down still, his gaze, though, points, staring straight at him.

Ah, right, not-a-Vindicator time.

“Well, I'm a mayor, as a matter of fact.”

Everyone looks at him like it was the last thing they expected him to say, including Grian.

Scar coughs, chasing off the nervous wobble in his voice and he sits up straight ready to prove his charm.

“For a pretty unknown-” Scar awkwardly trails off, not really familiar enough with space life for his own lie. “…hermit settlement! A beloved staple of the community, birds and children sing when I roam the streets.”

The others look at him speechless, he can feel them doubting him. Alright then, maybe he should learn to be more believable.

“The last thing I remember doing, actually, was chasing a criminal down an alley!” He settles on. He sees Grian go still. “It was epic and had glorious explosions and everything, a truly action-filled adventure-”

He stops when he feels Grian subtly thump him with his tail. Hiding the movement by sitting up, done with dressing Jimmy's wounds and moving on to Tango.

Tango ignores him, too interested in Scar’s story. “Was this criminal an Ender by chance?”

“Oh! Yes!” He very almost forgot that was what Tango was asking to begin with.

Tango sits up straighter with a look of triumph and excitement on his face.“That makes three out of four.”

“…Not a chance,” Grian says coldly.

Tango finally turns to him, Grian looking up whilst sorting out the supplies he has left.

“What?”

“I'm not telling you my story like we're all sat around a campfire-”

“We're trying to help, isn't that what you asked for?” Tango argues.

“This isn't helpful information, it's just a lot of assumptions and guesses.”

“Calculated guesses! And besides, what else could you possibly know about what's going on? Enlighten me,” Tango challenges him.

“I don't… but I also don't see how knowing all this even helps us in our current situation.”

Grian leans back from where he had been hunched over, closes his eyes, and flings his hand around in an almost smug way. “Yada yada, scary rich people put a bunch of losers into a death game. That doesn't help me whilst we're supposedly in one.”

“You find yourself in a lot of death games then?” Tango grins bitterly.

“I- '' Somehow that waveres Grian’s response briefly, he clears his throat before resuming. “I like information that helps. This doesn't- this doesn't fix a broken arm or get us any closer to escaping.”

“Well maybe it can- we can go ahead knowing that there's probably traps or trials set for us.” Scar says. The two look at Jimmy and Scar who had been quietly observing their conversation.

“Like the beeping!” Jimmy responds.

“Yeah-”

“OH, THE PHANTOMS!” Scar exclaims.

“Phantoms?”

Scar wiggles in the dust with delight. “Yeah! We encountered phantoms on our journey, which is a pretty odd place to find them,”

“Stole my helmet,” Grian grumbles, less happy.

“Yeah… they were definitely placed here intentionally, we almost got killed by them!” Scar exclaims. He sits up straighter and puffs out his chest. “But I fought them off valiantly.”

Tango and Jimmy share a doubtful look.

“And what about you two- did you guys encounter anything strange?” Scar claps his hands together, intrigued.

Grian rests on his arm and gestures loosely to them. “Strange enough to break both your arms?”

At that both Jimmy and Tango look at each other, coming to a realisation that makes them both grin wildly at each other.

“OH and THAT'S another thing,” Jimmy says far too gleefully.

“The game makers must have included this other mechanic to make it difficult for us!” Tango injects, matching his energy. He and Jimmy talk in slightly hushed yet excited voices to one another, Tango playfully pushing at Jimmy and whispering something about how it all made sense now.

Scar and Grian just blink blankly, clearly missing something. When neither of the two gives them context, instead excitedly making noises at each other over a discovery, Scar coughs.

“What mechanic?” He leans closer, curiously.

“We are linked! Somehow!” Jimmy exclaims loudly.

“It's probably a curse and enchantment related. But we feel and suffer the same wounds, hence… broken arms'' Tango adds.

“So you both broke your arm?” Scar hums still confused.

“No no just Jimmy, he fell.”

“Gracefully!” Jimmy interrupts with too much enthusiasm.

“Gracefully… from the top of the ravine. I was just walking nearby and received the injury too,” Tango sits back a little and loosely holds up his injured arm.

Scar hums to himself, gaze jumping between his company and their injuries. “So it's a proximity thing?”

Tango sits up fast with a gasp of excitement. “That's a good point! I don't know.”

He leans forward cautiously, still holding his bad arm to his chest as he beckons Scar to come closer.

Both Jimmy and Grian look at each other confused before Tango flicks Scar hard on the nose. Causing him to make a startled yelp noise.

With how they lean over, neither manages to notice as Grian also flinches, hand briefly touching his own nose, before he notices Jimmy watching him and stops.

“Nope didn't feel that,” Tango says, veering back to his previously comfortable position.

Scar reclines back too, leg braces creaking slightly as he rubs his nose and makes a small sad noise.

“Did you?” Tango turns to Jimmy who’s looking weirdly at Grian.

Tango nudges him, the taller shaking out of whatever thought he was having.

“Oh- no I didn't.”

He looks back to Grian who’s in the process of not so subtly shifting further from the others.

“Maybe… Are you two together?” Jimmy prompts, pinning Grian specifically with a look.

Obliviously, Scar says, “We just met,” still holding his nose.

“No, he meant the weird pain link thing,” Tango responds with a slight laugh.

“Oh!! Hold on-” Scar excitedly lifts his head up, his sore nose quickly forgotten. He turns to Grian who had been trying his best to not be noticed the whole exchange.

Moving too fast and suddenly, Scar goes to pinch his arm, only to hit his hand against metal. The realisation hits him dumbly, but not before he watches Grian cry out and pull back fearfully with an expression Scar doesn’t think he's ever seen on the man's face before.

Grian regains his composure quicker than Scar. He shakes off the scared look on his face but keeps his arms held close to his chest protectively.

Scar goes to apologise but Grian's voice interprets him. His attention directed away from Scar.

“No, we're not linked.”

Tango shrugs, titling his head at Jimmy and smiling.

“Well, maybe it's a thing specific to us,”

Jimmy pulls a slightly unconvinced face before agreeing. “Yeah probably.”

Grian finishes patching up Tango, ignoring the three as they descend into rambles and theories about it all.

He packs away his remaining supplies, looking pleased with his two patients' bandaged and slung arms, even as they pay him no mind.

He stands up, Scar is the first to look at him with a questioning expression.

“Welp! Considering I'm done… and you've given your less-than-useful information, I think it's our time to leave,” Grian brushes the dust off his trousers and holds out a hand for Scar.

“Scar?”

Scar doesn't move, he looks at the others and back to Grian, a guilty look on his face. “I actually think we should all stick together–”

Grian doesn't respond, instead pulling his hand away slowly. Scar continues.

“There’s clearly something much bigger going on here and I think teaming up is a safer option,”

The bird remains silent, his feathers betraying his blank face as they all pin. He blinks at Scar.

“I agree,” Jimmy speaks up awkwardly after a prolonged quiet.

Tango grins. “You're more than free to go off on your own,” he says snidely.

“Ah, well…” Scar splutters, standing up and holding his hands out, that's not what he meant at all, but Grian beats him to a response.

“No.”

“Wow… what a change of heart, you're scared of being alone?” Tango teases.

Grian pays no mind to the comments, his hurt look settling on Scar instead.

“Scar please, I can protect us both we don't need…” he loses his confidence, the end of his sentence teetering off.

Scar lets his arms hang at his side, as he looks at Tango and Jimmy, still sitting by each other's side. Now with both their arms in slings and, despite Tango's intimating expression, looking slightly pathetic in the hot sun.

“… they're hurting, Grian, I need to help,” he gives Grian a pleading look.

The glare stares at Scar, he seems to take in all of him, annoyed and confused. When suddenly, a brief flicker of understanding fills his features.

“… Grian?” Grian doesn’t look at him, instead, he stares at the dust to his side. Tail flicking at his side in frustration.

“I'm not leaving you,” he says simply. Refusing to elaborate.

A small part of Scar is surprised by Grian's response, his weird protectiveness over Scar, especially in context to how he’d acted towards the others. Scar can’t help but smile softly, even if Grian isn’t looking at him.

“So you'll agree to be a group?”

The bird turns to him with a hard look on his face, a disruption on his tongue before he cuts himself off, face flushing red when he realises Scar is smiling at him with a completely different energy. He bows his head slightly. “I'm staying with you, but I do not trust them.”

—

Scar sits down, explaining their travel plan, which honestly wasn't much since all they had done was travel in the direction of supposed man-made structures that had been spotted, hoping to not die in the process.

Grian positions himself slightly behind Scar as they all start laying out all their possessions. Comparing their resources with each other.

Out of everyone, Jimmy still has the most on him, carrying one container of water, which he apparently had forgotten about, he lets Grian and Scar take a swig, Tango insisting he doesn’t need it as much with being a blaze. They also have Grian's healing supplies, which at this point aren't very much, just a few alcohol wipes and gauze. Then also some dried meat Jimmy had and one package of dried cat treats that Scar had been carrying, and no one seems stoked about potentially eating.

Besides that, all they have is some random useless items in people’s pockets, all laid out in front of them. Anxious, taking in the unfortunate sight of what they have to survive on. Scar sits on his knees, ignoring how the braces creak as he leans on them.

Tango is watching Grian closely, mumbling under his voice like he’s trying to get Grian's attention, but the latter knows and deliberately ignores him.

Tango finally clears his throat and speaks up, tapping the sand in front of Grian to ensure he has his attention. “You have your weapon with you,” he says like it isn’t a question.

“Yes.” Grian doesn’t look at him, instead rewrapping a rope they had found in one of Jimmy's pockets. The rope rings slightly against his metal digits as he pulls the thread between them.

“So we all have our comms, storage, and defensive tools missing except for you,” Tango states snarkily.

“Well, I also have my comms and other stuff missing. Guess they accidentally skipped out on the knife.”

“How convenient for you,”

Grian deliberately disregards Tango's biting word, looking up at the other two. “We might have enough for a day or two more of travel? Could even hunt along the way… if there are even any animals.”

“The knife will be handy then.” Scar tries, looking at Tango with a cheery smile.

“Could also… maybe… find plants?” Jimmy says, They all look around at the dry, sandy landscape, only occupied by the occasional dead shrub, with dismay.

“How much collective knowledge do we have with foraging?”

“I used to be a baker!” Scar interjects excitedly.

“Cool!- But I don't see any flour or water, don't know how that's going to help us in this situation, bud,” Grian pats Scar on the back.

“Unless you are secretly an enderian and can just … teleport bread to us or something,” Tango adds jokingly.

“I'm not-”

“Are you?” Grian cuts in, the others realising quickly that he’s addressing Jimmy with a weird look.

Jimmy looks up confused, apparently not paying attention to where the conversation had drifted. “What?”

“You’re very tall… thought maybe-”

“Oh no, I'm a glare!” he replies.

Grian goes strangely still, that cold look filling his face. He looks like he wants to say something, but chooses against it, going back to meaninglessly fiddling with a rope.

“Well, it would have been super convenient to be an enderian with y’know …the lack of water,” Tango hums next to Jimmy.

“It might rain!” Jimmy notes gleefully.

“Rain? Here?”

“I mean maybe? These kinds of canyons get formed by water, so there's a real chance a flash flood might happen!” At the last statement, he looks nervous. ”Which depending on where we are, could help us or … be bad.”

“How do you know that?” Tango looks up at Jimmy with a gleam of curiosity.

“Well I get bored, and there's this neat little library in the Nether with a lot of unique landscapes and… “

Jimmy and Tango titter off into their own conversation about various formations of rocks and caverns in desert-like terrain. Scar's mind drifts aside as he watches billows of sand blow above them on the top of the ravine. He catches movement out the sides of his eye as Grian shifts.

The sun has moved more in the sky, the shade they had hidden in changing direction. The hot sun finally reaching them, first hitting the feathers on the Grian tail. He must have just noticed as he pushes himself away from it, a scowl on his face while he creeps away and bumps into Scar in the process.

They look up at each other, Grian jumping slightly when he notices he’s being watched, his ears pulling back as he looks away.

“We should get going. You guys rested enough?” He cuts the other two off, Tango drawing in the sand with his claws with Jimmy instructing him.

“Oh sure-” Jimmy replies. He stands, using his large tail to help push him up, before lending a hand to Tango.

Grian stumbles up into a stand on the sandy ground, hissing to himself and mumbling something along the lines of “dumb bird feet”. He looks at Scar who changed to sit with his legs in front of him, inspecting his leg braces and sighing.

“Those aren't meant for the desert, are they?” He holds out a hand which Scar takes, pulling himself to stand.

“Nope! Not really, more like indoor use.”

Grian frowns, opening his mouth to say something, but Tango cuts him off.

“Actually…” The blaze moves towards them, holding a hand behind his back, a snarky look crossing his face.

His gaze is glued directly on Grian as he pulls his uninjured hand out, holding it towards them. Grian's hands are still in Scar’s, he feels Grian's grip tighten subconsciously before he pulls his hand away in favour of crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Tango.

“You want this temporary alliance to go well right?”

“I mean… it would be convenient,” Grian frowns, confused about where Tango is going with this.

“Give me your knife,” Tango flicks his claws beckoning.

“… What?”

“I feel like it's very justified.”

“I'm not giving you my weapon,” Grian snaps, his hand moving to his side subconsciously.

Tango pulls his arm back, crossing it over with the other. “I still don't trust you, our minds would be more at ease if you didn't have that.” He looks up to Jimmy who’s looking over his shoulder, nodding slightly.

Scar looks at Grian whose back is turned to him, but regardless he can see the anger physically welling up, as his feathers stand up and his tail starts to flick back and forth. His claws hovering right above where the blade sits, ready.

“HAH, what do you think I care, there is no way I'd give it to you.” Grian spits.

Scar hears him take in a deep breath, sensing the start of something terrible happening. He takes a slightly stumbling step between them.

“I could take it,” Scar says simply. Both of them look up at him.

“I mean- you both seem to trust me more, so maybe I could carry it for now?” Scar tries, putting on his most easygoing smile. Tango's frown softens slightly, but that isn't who Scar is worried about most. The bird is now looking at him, a lot less spiked up with his mouth slightly open, his eyes searching Scar for something. He looks back to Tango, who just nods to Scar.

“Fine.”

Almost everyone lets out a breath of relief.

Grian pulls out his weapon, quickly, and grins to himself as he watches Jimmy and Tango flinch.

He hands it to Scar and gives him a weird look only he can see before his face morphs into a generally upset pout. Striding past them all, he barks “Follow,” and doesn't wait for them to catch up.

Scar looks at the weapon in his hands, remembering its hold before wedging it into his belt.

—

They continue with their walking, Grian at the front out of frustration over the loss of his weapons. Tango's prying eyes watch him from behind, insisting on being on the lookout for any funny behaviour.

The mood is off. Tango and Grian holding their weird rivalry and Jimmy and Scar lagging behind, looking at each other confused but not quite wanting to start small talk out of fear of getting on the other two nerves. They both opt instead to stare at the ground and savour as much of the shade as they can.

Tango is the first to break the silence.

“I don't think I trust you.”

He has his head facing forward, the anger in his voice enough to indicate he’s talking to Grian.

“I bet you’re one of them.”

“Them?” Grian almost laughs.

“Explains why you have your weapon and not us, why you're so reluctant to share why you might be here. And don't even think I forgot about your oh-so-welcoming greeting,” Tango responds with no amusement in his voice.

“What is your problem with me?”

“I think you're an Ender, a man from the inside sent down to watch us.” He says simply, pushing up his shoulders.

Grian snorts, drawing out his words. “Literally all you have against me is that I have a weapon and I’m a bit of an introvert, that's barely anything,”

“That's not all I have. What about your wings?”

The mood changes instantly, from bickering to an icy, quiet cold.

With that Scar finally looks up at the conversation, they have since all slowed down from walking to a standstill. Grian being the one to stop first as he scowls in Tango's direction.

He doesn't say a word. Tango continues with a malicious look on his face.

“And the arms, they're enchanted, right? I can basically smell it from here. You don't come across enchantments like that in the wild. And that's not even mentioning the level of skill that must have gone into those base robotics, for some random stranger– You'd have to be a part of a pretty powerful faction to get robotics like those and I definitely doubt you're a Vindicator.”

Scar watches Grian flash him a very brief glance at that name. Tango continues unaware.

“I've been around Ender technology enough to recognize its signatures, I used to work with it-”

“You don't know what you're talking about,” Grian cuts in coldly with a flat tone.

“I think I do.” Tango challenges, bearing his sharp teeth.

“Hey, hey, what about we uhh, calm down a bit?” Scar interrupts, shrugging his shoulders slightly with an open demeanour.

Tango's wild gaze jumps to him and sticks.

“I think you guys might have all come off on the wrong foot! Ahah,” Scar laughs painedly.

He stalls slightly, almost feeling the heat from Tango start to concentrate on him instead.

“I promise you, Grian is not as stabby as he seems.”

“Oh yeah?” Tango responds incredulously. “Is that why you have a stab wound on your shoulder?” He jabs his finger in the direction of Scar's shoulder, the gauze and tank top stained lightly red.

Scar shoots Grian a look, the other's eyes blown slightly more wide knowingly.

“…Unrelated circumstances,” Scar says simply.

Tango steps closer to Scar, causing him to stumble back slightly, Jimmy awkwardly drifting over his shoulder placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder briefly. “Why are you even sticking up for this guy? Didn't you say you only just met?” Tango all but growls at Scar.

“Well… We're friends.”

“No, there's something else. Something you're not telling us,”

Scar's mouth finds itself ajar, as he tries to think of what to say. Grian is painfully quiet over his shoulder.

Tango takes another step towards Scar, his mind spinning trying to figure out a believable story.

“…We made a deal!” He settles on.

“A deal?” That seems to genuinely take Tango by surprise, his imposing façade faltering.

“Yeah.”

Tango pulls a weird expression before it changes quickly as if struck by an idea. “If you made a deal maybe we could fulfil it instead, then we won't need this guy. I have the contacts, I know my loopholes. If this deal is so much more important, that you'd associate with this guy then choose what I can offer you instead. What even would it be? to you to find yourself associated with someone like him? What was it?”

“I-…” Scar hesitates and turns his gaze to where Grian is standing. The three of them have moved a considerable distance away from him during their argument, but he still stands within audible range, watching quietly.

The bird looks uncomfortable and small, he thinks. His feathers pinning and fingers flicking at his side, right where his blade would have been.

His expression looks complicated, Scar observes, like he’s expecting this situation but still feels a sense of hurt or pain. Weirdly, his gaze is fixed on the blaze rather than Scar, but he can see him fidget and glare as if he knows he’s being looked at, trying his best to avoid eye contact.

Tango coughs shuffling forward in the sand to bring Scar's attention back to him.

Scar had almost forgotten what they had asked. The deal. He wants to know what their deal was. Technically the deal wasn't even that specific, it’s just protection. That's all Grian had promised and even with a weapon, which he no longer had, in comparison to both Tango and Jimmy his usefulness might be matched.

Grian's expression makes sense now, he’s fully expecting Scar to take this deal.

Scar looks back at Grian, catching him looking at Scar before he darts his eyes away.

He doesn’t like this. He doesn’t understand why Tango is so hostile, it feels unjustified. Like he’s missing something, which is impossible. He's known Grian longer than Tango. Grian is barely a threat, yeah awkward, maybe a little impulsive and snide. But Scar doesn’t believe that justifies leaving him behind. Why is there so much bitterness between his newly acquainted companions? Why is Tango so insistent on Grian being a bad person? These questions circle around in Scar's head as he tries to think of some way he can defend Grian.

“We were going to start up a very specific business.” Scar grins.

“… What?”

“Trading goods. See, I need him because he’s got those fancy wings,” he gestures towards Grian, who’s badly concealing his bewilderment, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly, no sound escaping.

“What are you trading?”

Scar mulls it over before looking at the ground and shrugging. “….sand.”

Despite everything, Grian laughs at that. Coughing and suppressing giggles when the blazeborn shoots him a look.

“Sand?” Jimmy almost yells.

Tango taps at his chin in thought. “I- I mean I could maybe…”

Scar interrupts him. “No no no, I'm a dignified salesman. I made a deal and stayed true to my word. I'm sorry but I'll have to decline the offer,” he replies with an easy-going demeanour.

“We're now a package deal now,” he walks up to stand by Grian's side, patting his shoulder roughly.

Grian's only response is to make an awkward noise and to lean away from Scar, but not enough to actually break the space they share.

Tango looks at them both, an angry look directed at the two. Suddenly, Jimmy places a hand on his shoulder.

“I think we should just play along, even if we're suspicious of someone. I think we need all the help we can get.” The taller man says down to him, smiling slightly.

Tango takes in Jimmy's look, his frown smoothing out for a brief second before he looks back at Scar.

“Maybe I don't trust you now Scar, you've clearly also got secrets you're not telling us,”

“You're getting too caught up on secrets and mysteries, and supposed ‘them’s,” Scar puts on a wide smile, waving at the air with a nonchalant attitude.

“How about… G!” He slings his arm around Grian and pushes him in closer to the other two, while the bird sputters slightly at the new nickname.

“Promise you won't stab any of us in the back until we're free from this …game?” Scar holds him by his shoulders. Grian flinches slightly as he tries to look up at Scar only to get a face full of sun. The glare looks back at the other two, not saying a word, his ears flicking absently.

“Grian!” Scar nudges him.

“Yes, sure,” he says flatly. He crosses his arms. “I promise.”

Scar beams, looking at Tango and Jimmy. “Annddddd do you guys promise not to belittle my friend here for being a bit creepy?”

The both of them hesitate, looking up at each other, exchanging looks.

“I feel creepy is an understatement…” Tango scoffs.

“We promise,” Jimmy says at the same time.

Scar claps his hands together, Grian flinching and holding his ears at the noise. “See! Solved! We're now a team!”

No one celebrates, they all look at each other with uncomfortable hesitation, not at all meeting Scar's enthusiasm. He hops on his toes, ushering the others forward, getting them to start walking again.

“Team… yellow.” Scar looks around at his company, all pulling different forms of confused faces. “Why are you all blond?”

—

After several hours of walking, the sun had begun to dip over the horizon. They were all able to confirm the revelation that this planet has a pretty short day cycle.

The journey had been painfully awkward. Tango and Jimmy spent most of it talking between themselves, sometimes hushed, which Grian pretended not to notice. He’d closed off slightly despite Scar trying to start a conversation with him several times. It was a stark contrast to how they were in the morning. Scar missed their smallest interactions deeply.

At one point Tango had instructed Scar not to walk so close to Grian, mumbling that he could take his weapon back so easily with how close they were walking. Scar tried to argue, but Grian complied, closing himself off even more as he walked ahead of them.

They’re now settling in for sleep, taking turns in pairs, Tango not trusting Grian to be lookout alone.

Tango and Jimmy lay backed up into the shelter of an overhang, while Scar and Grian sit at the entrance, a considerable distance away.

“Wow- it got dark quicker. Darker than yesterday even,” Scar hums. The sky’s a deep, dark blue rather than the red of last night. Scar shivers, it’s also considerably colder.

“Yeah,” Grian murmurs.

“I bet this is really comforting for you, gloomy dim light,” Scar leans back looking towards where he assumes Grian is sitting, it’s pretty hard to tell.

“Yeah.”

Scar turns back and frowns to himself. It seems Grian is still acting distant, even with Tango and Jimmy snoring peacefully behind them.

“Hmm … wish I could see in the dark though, can't find-”

With far too much force Scar reaches forward, ramming his wrist into a rock wall. He winces. “Ow…”

“Are you okay?” Grian asks from his side, genuine concern lacing his voice.

“Yeah… just, there's a wall there.”

Scar continues to blindly stumble in the dark, searching for his jacket. Suddenly there’s a warm glow, illuminating his surroundings. Scar's mind is slow to process as small flickers of light drift into his peripheral vision, like some combination of fire embers and little lightning bugs.

He jumps backwards, his knee slipping out from under him. “Oh oh oh– what is that!?”

He looks around in shock at the small fiery creatures, before his eyes make contact with Grian who looks completely unconcerned about them. Scar then realises the glare is actually slightly amused at Scars' fright.

“Oh, are you doing that?”

“Yeah… lights to see what you're doing,” Grian mutters somewhat shyly, looking at the space between them. Scar sits back down, reaching for his jacket now that the dim glow has lit up the area.

“Oh! Thanks!” He puts the jacket on, grumbling about the discovery that it isn’t as comfortable inside out. But at least it still keeps the cold at bay so he isn’t about to complain too much.

He watches the tiny lights float in the air. They spin and twirl into themselves, dancing around one another. Scar slowly recognizes the shapes of tiny phantoms, just like the ones from yesterday but smaller and made out of sunlight.

“… Aren't these technically illusion magic?” Scar thinks, not even realising he’s saying it out loud.

He looks to Grian when he hears a shuddered breath, “…oh I guess so,” Grian wraps his arms around his knees, pressing his face into them with a soulful expression.

Unlike the tired apathy he has been carrying, this look is pained and hurt, the little illusions dimming as if in response.

Scar holds his hand out catching one between his fingers. It flutters and whirls in his palm, never quite touching his skin. Scar can swear he can feel its warmth, even though he knows he’s most likely imagining it.

“Well …I like them. They're very cute,” Scar smiles, looking at Grian as he holds one of the tiny beasts in between his hands.

Grian looks up at him, half his face obscured, and that sad look still in his eyes.

“You’re very talented,” Scar pokes at the illusion in his hand, feeling nothing as his finger phases through it. The illusion still dancing and spinning as if it was affected by the force.

“…Thanks,” Grian responds, muffled. A small smile creeps into his features at Scar's compliment.

They fall back into a still quiet state. Scar pushes the illusion back into the air with the others, leaning against the wall as he watches them dance.

“A game huh? I wonder why I'm here…” He muses. Not really expecting an answer from the glare, more filling the air.

“Tango said that we all must have wronged an Ender in our past… But I don't think I have- aside from being a Vindicator… I wonder…” He mulls over ideas in his mind, but there honestly isn't much he can think of. He's never been that involved in the field, and he barely even knows if he'd recognize an Ender if he saw one.

Naturally, Scar's gaze drifts to his company. Grian seems to be as deep in thought as him, his brows deep and ears pinned back, upset.

“Are you… okay?” Scar asks.

Grian looks up at him, his eyes following each line on Scar's face before responding. “Have you decided if I'm a good guy or bad guy yet?”

Scar tilts his head, that’s a very particular kind of question. He leans his head back, taking in the sandy walls striped with different warm shades of colour.

“I don't…” he sighs. “I think I'm starting to realise it's a lot more complex than I thought it all was.”

“Yeah,” Grian mumbles.

“What do you think you are?”

That oh-so-familiar quiet rears its head again. Scar starts to think he isn't going to answer him until, finally, he’s proven wrong.

“… I don't think I'm either, I don't think there really are good guys and bad guys, at least that it's not so black and white most of the time.”

Scar tilts his head down to look at Grian. The bird has now wrapped his tail around his feet, he's almost perfectly wound, aside from his wings that lay out behind him, tired. He's not looking at Scar, but instead at his own illusions that continue to float in the space between them.

Scar looks at them as well. “… I think you're good.”

Grian shifts uncomfortably, raising his head high enough that Scar can see the pained grin he wears.

“Haha god–” he pulls one arm out from being wrapped around his leg and pushes it hard into one side of his face. “You really need to pick better alliances, you really don't know me…”

Scar tilts his head from side to side.

“Well then tell me… do you think you're bad?” He asks simply.

Grian doesn't answer straight away. Instead, he digs his nails slightly into his scalp and looks to his side, very quietly hissing in a breath.

“… I’m trying to be a better person than I was,” he says, almost below a whisper.

“Well, that's something! Bad people don't tend to want to change,” Scar smiles reassuringly. Catching Grian’s eyes and putting on the most friendly expression he can muster.

Grian doesn't seem to buy it though, he pushes his head back into his knees. This time leaning his face away from Scar.

They both sit there, not uttering another word for a few minutes. Scar looks again at the illusions. He wonders what it was like to summon them, and then to keep concentrating on them. Grian doesn't even seem to be paying them much mind, his head buried in his metal limbs. Yet they still dance softly in the air. Maybe it was a soothing thing to conjure and maintain. Grian's feathers certainly imply he's a lot less stressed compared to how they’ve been most of the day.

Scar watches as Grian taps his long taloned fingers against his arm in boredom, the sound resonating in their small space. Metal against metal. Scar stares absently at them, Grian’s head is turned away, so he doesn't feel so bad about picking up on the smaller details he can see now he's this close.

They look slightly scratched, the deep black of the metal is scuffed in places, turning a dark grey. Up this close Scar notices how the robotics look, unfinished. Like they’re just a frame, the mechanisms, and wires open to the world, no protective shell. He can see some of the wires have tape around them, stuck haphazardly to the inside as if they had been snagged and pushed in deeper to avoid being torn again. It strikes Scar as odd. They look incomplete, yet when Grian taps his fingers they move with the fluidity of an organic limb, the small mechanisms barely even make a sound.

“Is it true what he said about enchanted robotics?” Scar asks spontaneously.

Grian lifts his head, that cold look returning once again. He pulls his arms from being wrapped around his legs into his lap, still curled up in his position.

“So, you do think I'm an Ender,” he says plainly.

“Well– I mean– You're not doing much to refute being one,” Scar tries, chuckling under his breath.

“I'm not an Ender,” Grian responds coldly, the least bit amused.

Moving uncomfortably, Scar breaths in, dropping his smile for a genuine look. “And I choose to believe you.”

Grian looks unconvinced. “But you still think I am,” he says slowly.

“… I don't think anything.” Scar argues, interrupted by a surprising chuckle.

“Well, I knew that much already.”

“I– hey!”

Grian giggles to himself, it lays bittersweet on his face when he falls off into silence.

Scar finishes what he’d been saying. “I don't like to assume things.”

With that Grian looks at Scar, really looks at him. The deep dark pools of his eyes squint and scrutinise him. Scar thinks the reflections of the illusions in his eyes look like stars.

“You liked to assume I'm a good person.”

“That's different, I have evidence,” Scar responds cheerfully.

“And what Tango stated wasn't?” He squeaks, baffled, unwinding from his ball more to throw his arms out.

“It didn't feel fair.”

“Fair–” Grian parrots back in disbelief, almost sneering to himself.

“Besides, I feel like it might be hypocritical of me to be upset that you're hiding who you are.”

Grian folds his arms back over himself looking away. “But that's different, I know what you're hiding– I was the one to even suggest it–” He says bitterly.

“Well– maybe I also have my own secrets,” Scar winks.

With a slightly more light in his voice, Grian leans his chin on his knees. “I doubt that– you like talking too much.”

Scar laughs at that, then sits forward holding a finger up as the little illusions swim around him. “You truly underestimate the power of talking, my friend. You can know anything and be given anything by talking, whereas violence enlists the opposite. It cuts you off from ever knowing more. People love talking, and I love secrets. It's an art, really.”

“Why did you become a Vindicator then? If anything they're very for violence and anti-information,” Grian mumbles, looking up at him with a raised brow.

Scar winks again, but this time taps his nose, “For secrets,” he says simply.

Grian rolls his eyes and laughs. “Ah,” He smiles, slipping slightly at the edges. He taps at his arm again. “You sort of concern me,” he huffs. “I don't get you.”

“Well I mean secrets—” Scar starts.

Grian cuts him off, waving a hand. “No no, that's not what I'm talking about…” He rests his hand back down onto his knee looking straight at Scar. “You have this inexplicable blind faith in me and I don't understand why,” his nose scrunches up. “Now, either you're really dumb or …”

Scar splutters trying to defend himself, but Grian continues, closing his eyes.

“I don't know…” He titters.

“I'm just very curious.”

“… about me?”

“Yeah! If you're not going to tell me who you are, then I guess I'll have to get to know you,” Scar grins.

“Usually when people are investigating someone, they don't straight up tell them to their face,” Grian bobs his head smirking.

“And I'm not investigating you,” Scar argues, “it's called companionship— becoming friends. You do have those don't you?” Scar tilts his head.

Grian grins up at him. “Well, you see—” Leaning forward, beckons Scar to follow his movement, before pulling back suddenly.

“That! Was obviously an investigation,” he laughs unfooled.

“Worth a try,” Scar shrugs, also leaning back.

They both become quiet. A cool breeze blows at the feathers on Grian's tail. The little light illusions move through the air slowly, unbothered by the physical realm. Grian holds his hands out, as they all drift over to him, curling up neatly in his hands.

He looks at Scar who’s watching, intrigued, and flashes his teeth in a smile, before closing his hands together, extinguishing the light. Only slight shimmers make it out past his fingers, as Scar watches him push his palms hard against each other still looking at him.

He opens his hands to reveal one creature, slightly bigger than the ones from earlier curled up in his hands. Its form is slightly more detailed, its warm light shimmering with blues and pink at the tips. It bares its tiny teeth as if yawning, and stretches out from its sleepy curl. Grian pushes it up into the air, the small creature imitating catching air in its wings and drifting off into the space in front of them.

“I uh—” Grian interrupts nervously, pulling Scars' gaze away from the illusion. “Thank you! For sticking up for me back there.” He holds a small smile, pained at the edges.

“I honestly wouldn't have held it against you if you took their offer and ran… but—” He coughs and shakes his head. “I guess what I'm saying is it was nice, very foolish… we literally have so many lies to navigate now, it’s a walking nightmare… but it was very kind of you.”

Scar beams, almost wiggling in excitement. “Hey! We're a package deal now!”

The bird rolls his eyes but keeps his smile. “Ugh.”

He pulls his legs out in front of him, his wings lifting off the dusty floor. He shakes them off from the dust before folding them behind his back neatly. He gives Scar a tired look.

Scar shuffles forward waving his hands out, not done with the conversation just yet.

“Seriously! I like you!” Grian flicks him a nervous look, making a confused noise that almost sounds like a chirp. Scar itches his head and elaborates. “I'm glad we've gotten to meet each other again. Under different circumstances.”

Grian's wide grin falters. His eyes drift to the left side of Scar's face, darting away and looking at the ground instead.

“And let’s hope we leave this one better then, aye?” His hesitant grimaces switch to a small but genuine smile.

“I owe at least that to you,” he adds.

Scar nods.

It never occurred to him that they’ll have to part ways at some point, for some reason that thought never crossed his mind, and it makes him sad. He’s a Vindicator and Grian was, probably still is, a criminal. It would be hard to meet up with someone actively imprisoned, and that’s even if Grian cares enough to risk that. Considering he said the words leave, he must have assumed they'll likely never meet again.

It makes Scar feel a little sour, he was having the most fun time here, even with the lingering death and tense energy directed at his new friend. He'd had more fun being kidnapped and disregarded on some random planet than he ever had on a shift.

Scar watches the illusion spin, he doesn't need to dwell on it too much, this adventure is starting to appear long and treacherous, he should just enjoy what he has left of it and Grian’s company.

Scar puts light into his voice, eyes still set on the glowing creature.

“Now shall we discuss at length about our sand trader backstory?”

Grian snorts.

He looks at him to watch Grian fake an obvious yawn. “Wow! I'm suddenly very tired.”

Scar smiles more genuinely this time.

“I’ll be called ‘Scorn’ and you'll be my faithful lackey ‘Giran’”

“They already know our names why-” Grian wheezes, before holding his palms up. ”You know what- nah, actually I'm asleep right now- and actively not engaging” He lays down closing his eyes.

“Best friends,” Scar continues. “Found abandoned as children together in a sandbox, oh that could be where the trading started!”

Grian rolls over away from Scar, pulling his wings pointedly over his head.

“I'M SLEEPING! Can't hear you over how loudly I'm sleeping right now-” he says slightly muffled, starting to laugh. Before he chuckles loudly to himself.

He suddenly sits up quickly and holds his hands tight over his mouth, Scar noticing the noise of someone grumbling tiredly.

He sees a shadow of Tango toss in his sleep before settling again.

Scar and Grian both exchange a look, Grian trying his hardest to hold onto a laugh before he coughs one into his hands, hushing him. Scar joins in wheezing.

They both sit, in a warm glow, laughing quietly between themselves as the night continues.

[yelenasbitch]

Natasha Romanoff Does Not Date

Summary: Natasha Romanoff does not date. It used to be because she didn’t have, well, bodily autonomy, but even after that, she never really made the time for it.

And then: sabotage.

Word Count: 1,600

Warnings: None, just tooth rotting fluff

Masterlist (coming soon)

Natasha Romanoff does not date. It used to be because she didn’t have, well, bodily autonomy, but even after that, she just never really made the time for it. She knows that Clint dated, had to hear all about it, the meetings, the honeymoon phases, the breakups. And then one day, there was no breakup, but she did have to meet Laura, and she was nice. And then after a while, when she realized that Natasha really, really did not want Clint, she was even nicer. And then Natasha had two people harassing her about dating, which was less than ideal. Once she started with the Avengers, well, Clint gave her a break. 

But still, it was the same question every time she showed up at his front door:

“So, got a girlfriend yet?”

And the same answer:

“Fuck you Barton, let me in.”

(She stopped cursing when the kids came, but made sure to give him a smack when they turned around.)

                                                                       ~~

And then they sabotaged her. (But she’s not really complaining.)

She knocks on the door and glances behind her, just out of habit, while she waits for someone to let her in. When she hears the approaching footsteps, ones that aren’t Clint or Laura, she immediately pulls out her gun, and she’s about to break the door down when it opens. And she has enough time to recognize that you’re not an assassin, and then Lucky is running past her, out into the field, and then you take off after him. 

She stands on the porch for a minute, trying to figure out what the hell is happening, before she snaps into action. She goes after you and the dog, and between the two of you, he’s corralled back into the house in fifteen minutes. She follows your footsteps into the house, noting that you’re slightly out of breath from the impromptu run. Not an agent, then.

“Hey, you’re Natasha, right?” is the first thing out of your mouth that isn’t a curse or the dog’s name. 

She just nods. 

“Clint and Laura told me you might stop by,” and you’re smiling, laughing as you say the next bit, “they also warned me that you might pull a gun on me.”

She raises an eyebrow, “and you didn’t think that was odd?”

“Well, I’ve worked for–” you cut yourself off abruptly, thinking before you continue speaking, “I think he was Clint’s boss. Anyway, it’s not the weirdest thing I’ve heard.”

That gets her attention, “Fury? You worked for Fury?”

You nod and her hands itch for her gun again; “who are you?” is all she can manage, confused as hell by the bits of information you’ve given her. 

“I’m a pet sitter.” you say brightly, holding in a laugh at her incredulous look.

“A pet sitter?”

“Yeah, I watched Fury’s cat, Goose. She’s really sweet once she warms up to you.”

Natasha thinks she’s having a stroke. 

You’re trying not to embarrass yourself, but Natasha is looking like she’s going to kill you, and you’re trying to avoid checking her out, and so you just keep talking to fill the silence. 

“But, yeah. So I’ve taken care of Goose a few times, and then when Clint got Lucky, he got my info from Fury. I’ve cared for him a couple times, but not for too long. This time though, Clint’s gone away for longer. He and Laura took the kids to disney world for a week, and so here I am.”

You slowly stop speaking, and Natasha manages to get a grip of herself. 

“I see. Well, I’ll head out then.”

“No!” You shout it before you can stop, and she smirks. 

“I just mean, you don't have to. Clint said you might stop by, and Laura told me that she made up both guest bedrooms just in case.”

Natasha considers the facts for a minute: she had mentioned to Clint that she’d try and stop by this week, he hadn’t said anything about a trip to Florida with the kids, and he had very suspiciously not answered her texts letting him know she was on the way. Fuck it. 

“Just one night, then. It’s a long flight back. As long as you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. And I’ll stay out of your way.”

Her response is cut short by her phone ringing, and she excuses herself to another room when she sees that it’s Clint calling.

“Out of town?” is her greeting to him.

“Oops? I must’ve forgotten to mention it.” He answers, using a snarky, sarcastic tone.

“Bullshit, Barton.”

“Fury trusts her.”

“So you got Fury in on this too! Jumped on the bandwagon: let’s find Natasha a date?” And she whispers this part, checking to make sure you’re not within earshot.

“We just thought it might be easier,” he pauses, and Natasha can hear Laura and the kids saying something, her tone patient and the kids excited. “ –anyway, it might be easier with someone who’s already been introduced to everyone.”

“Clint, I– ”

“Gotta go, have fun!”

And then he hangs up, and she promises herself that she’ll mess up his arrows in retaliation, but for now she has to deal with…this.

                                                                       ~~

By the time evening rolls around, she’s gotten comfortable around you; is even laughing and joking with you. And when you whisper goodnight, after the end of the movie, she catches herself staring as you head up the stairs, Lucky on your heels and then quickly moving past you.

She decides it’s time for her to go to bed as well, and she turns out the lights, does a final perimeter check, and heads to the second guest bedroom. She can hear you speaking softly to Lucky, hears the thump of his tail, and when he jumps into your bed she listens as the bed squeaks and you laugh delightedly. 

Natasha very much ignores the feeling of jealousy when she thinks about how Lucky gets to spend the night cuddling you.

                                                                       ~~

Natasha is awake and sipping coffee when you and Lucky stumble blearily down the stairs the next morning. Well, you stumble and Lucky runs. She looks on as you open the door and let him outside, stares as you stretch in the patch of sunlight and scrunch your nose at the chill in the air. You make your way into the kitchen and through it into the pantry, preparing Lucky’s breakfast while he’s still outside. And when you shriek finally seeing her in there, she can’t help it, she starts laughing. 

“Not nice!” you say once you’ve caught your breath, though you’re holding back a smile.

“Sorry?” but it’s not sincere and she’s still smiling widely as you continue where you left off with Lucky’s food. He comes bounding in, having heard the scream, though it only takes one look at his full food bowl and then he’s distracted, eating noisily in the corner.

“Hmph. Please tell me you at least made enough for me too?” you ask, and she nods, grabbing a mug and filling the cup. She observes silently as you add milk and sugar, smiling at your look of happiness when you take the first sip.

                                                                       ~~

She stays the whole day, and then lets you convince her that it’s too late to fly back, so she’ll have to stay another night. 

                                                                       ~~

The following day the two of you take Lucky on a hike, and later you fall asleep leaning on her as the two of you watch movies on the couch. 

She stays that night, too.

                                                                       ~~

The next day she takes the opportunity to teach you some archery basics, ensuring that she leaves Clint’s bows and arrows and targets in shambles as retaliation. 

That night Lucky sleeps alone, and she sleeps curled around you instead. 

She gives him some of her bacon the next morning, and he isn’t one to hold a grudge. 

                                                                       ~~

By the time Clint, Laura, and the kids come back, she’s still there, and Lucky has developed a taste for bacon in the mornings.

The two of you spend the night since the kids won’t let either of you leave, and Lucky pouts the next morning, deprived of bacon since Natasha had been deprived of cuddles. (She had rolled her eyes when you insisted on sleeping separately, but smiled into the goodnight kiss you gave her.)

                                                                       ~~

The two of you board the jet the next afternoon, smiling as the family waves goodbye. Clint and Laura high five each other, and Natasha can’t wait for him to see what she’s done to his beloved equipment the next time he goes to practice.

Still, as you sit next to her, talking and staring at the clouds going past, she knows that she also owes him a new bow, and owes Laura a night of babysitting. 

Maybe, she thinks as she listens to you talk about meeting the rest of the team, you’ll join her for babysitting duty.

                                                                       ~~

So, to recap:

Natasha Romanoff does not date. It used to be because she didn’t have control, and then it was because she never really made the time for it, making sure she was too busy for it. 

She watched as Clint did, as he found a wife and made himself a family. Listened as both of them encouraged her to date. Looked on as he retired and raised his kids and built a home. And then she got sabotaged, and decided she was very happy that she hadn’t listened to them. She had waited, worked, saved the world a few times, and avoided dating. You were her reward.

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 17 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: alcohol, mentions of OC thinking Jungkook was going to hurt himself in October, mentions of Hobi, explicit content: nipple/breast play, hickeys, praising, teasing, oral sex (male and female receiving), jerking off, balls sucking, a bit of mouth fucking, hair pulling, fingering, unprotected sex (don't be stupid)

☆word count: 9k

☆a/n: I don't want this to be the end no :') thank you for accompanying me on this journey. I hope you loved this story as much as I loved writing it, and I hope it stays in your heart like it will for sure stay in mine <3 thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, December 19th

It snowed for the first time of the year this afternoon. 

It had been forecasted for a week now, but you still smile as you walk out of the exam building along with Nabi, a blanket of snow covering the ground. Students are milling around, throwing snowballs and building snowmen as their cheeks turn rosy, and their breaths turn into clouds that slowly lift towards the cloud-covered sky. 

It’s not snowing anymore, but it’s supposed to start again over the night, which you reckon might disrupt your plans of driving home tomorrow with Taehyung, Ariane and Jungkook. You think your mother would be relieved - the apartment will be crowded for two weeks, and you know she likes her space.

At least she doesn’t have a boyfriend this year, and so it’ll only be the five of you. It’s not like you aren’t used to sharing a roof with the three others though - you’ve been good at it this semester, especially considering that you and Jungkook have been sharing a room, and Taehyung and Ariane another.

Which left your old room as a guest room for the nights Jimin and Sera get too drunk with you to make their way home.

Your relationship with Jungkook has slowly evolved over the weeks and months since you’d run home thinking that he was going to hurt himself. You’re now fully dating, or at least you tell so to everyone that asks you where you’re standing when it comes to Jungkook.

You know he does the same anyway, even if you haven’t really stated to each other that you are boyfriend and girlfriend yet. You don’t think it matters - your relationship with him has been going on for far longer than just a few weeks, and the absence of a label doesn’t scare you in the slightest. Not when you fall asleep and wake up next to him every day, his first and last words of the day always love confessions uttered against your skin.

It’s a side of Jungkook that you like. The way he’s demonstrative of his affection, not caring if your brother is watching whenever he hugs you or kisses you. Taehyung has cursed the two of you repeatedly for it, but there’s just some beauty in the carefree act of loving each other in front of the very person you thought would end you that you both can’t let go of.

Speaking about that, your relationship with Taehyung has been… strained, since October. You haven’t really been able to forgive him for what happened that night he threw Jungkook out of the apartment, and he hasn’t quite been able to forgive you for hiding your relationship with Jungkook from him. You think he’s a little hypocritical for it - he and Jungkook have had no trouble resuming their friendship despite the fact that you and Jungkook are now a thing. But you don’t mind. 

As long as Jungkook is happy, then you are happy too.

“You coming to Yoongi and Namjoon’s tonight, right?” Nabi says as you walk down the path, your shoes crunching on the snow.

You chuckle. “You think I’d miss Yoongi introducing his boyfriend?” you say. “Hell nah. Of course I’ll be there.”

Nabi laughs, slightly shaking her head. “It’s not like you haven’t seen them together at the gym.”

She’s got a point, but you still want to see gym guy - Mikey, you’ve now found out - out of his natural habitat, aka the gym. 

“Is Jungkook coming?” she asks.

You nod. “Later though. He’s going out for drinks with his friends, and he said he’d meet up around eleven.”

“That’s late,” she comments.

You playfully push her. “We’ll probably be going until three am, I think eleven is fine.”

She laughs, though her eyes sparkle as she looks at you, with excitement and amusement you know is reciprocated in your own gaze.

Tonight will be one for the books, and you just can’t wait.

You have to head to your apartment first, to take a quick shower and grab the drinks you’ve bought for the evening. Nabi tags along, chilling with Ariane in the living room while you get ready. You get out of the shower ten minutes later to see that they’ve been joined by Taehyung.

The absence of Jungkook brings a pout to your lips, even though you know he’s just with Jimin and Eunwoo at Jimin’s apartment, pre-drinking for the bar.

“What’s up?” Taehyung greets you. 

You offer him a tight-lipped smile. He takes it in stride, looking away from you to focus on Nabi and Ariane’s conversation while you make your way to your room to do your makeup quickly. Soon enough you’re ready to go, and you stop by the kitchen to grab the drinks - different flavours of lemonade with alcohol, like maybe it’s summer and the snow outside is but a mirage.

“Let’s go!” you say as you reach the living room next, and Nabi nods as she jumps up from the couch, meeting you near the door.

“I am so excited Y/n, you have no idea,” she says, and you laugh as you nod approvingly.

“Let’s go see what that Mikey is made of.”

Her laugh doubles up, and it follows you outside after you’ve put your coats and boots on. You’ve decided to walk to Yoongi and Namjoon’s place, and Nabi lets out a happy yelp when it starts snowing again.

“It’s so pretty!” she says, motioning to the fat snowflakes that are lazily falling from the sky.

You fully agree with her - there’s something magical about the first day of snow. It fills the air with excitement and joy and nostalgia for the days when you were younger and the first snow meant the beginning of the Christmas season, which you reckon might have always been your favourite season after all.

“It really is,” you agree with Nabi.

She nods wisely, and then throws you a look. “Did you know Ariane’s grandfather was French?”

You actually did. Ariane told you it was the reason why she’d decided to do a semester abroad in Paris, and that her grandfather had also been the one to name her. 

“Yeah, she told me all about it when we went out to the karaoke bar,” you say, referencing an outing that had taken place in early November, when your relationship with Jungkook still felt fresh.

Not that it doesn’t anymore. You reckon being with Jungkook will always be refreshing to you - he’s the oasis in the middle of your desert.

“Oh right,” Nabi lets out. “That time you lost your voice for five days straight.”

“I did not!” you cry out as she bursts out laughing.

You, as a matter of fact, did lose your voice, but it was only because you and Jungkook had gotten too drunk and you were screaming more than singing by the end of the evening.

You spend the rest of the walk to Yoongi’s apartment bickering with Nabi, laughing as you reminisce about the good times you spent over the last few months. And there have been many - Jungkook fits right in with your friend group, and you’ve been hanging out with all of them on multiple occasions, Taehyung, Ariane, Sera and Jimin even tagging along some of the time.

You get to Yoongi’s apartment at the same time as a flustered Seokjin, who admits he had to sprint to make it in time because Ria complained about his tardiness. He’s clutching two rosé bottles for dear life - Ria’s preferred alcoholic beverage now - and he explains he was late because of them. Though you know Ria probably wasn’t actually upset with him in the slightest, you still find it weirdly endearing that Seokjin ran.

It’s proof that he’s utterly obsessed with your friend, much like she is obsessed with him, too.

“Well then let’s get in,” Nabi says, and you follow her inside the building, and then up to the apartment in and of itself. 

The door is unlocked when you get there, and you walk in, taking off your boots in the hall before making your way to the living room, where your friend group is all gathered already.

The first person you notice is Mikey, and he politely smiles at you as Ria throws herself at you and Nabi, hugging you both tight to her chest.

“Congrats on finishing your semester!” Ria says. 

You thank her, and she takes the drinks you’ve brought from your hands so that you can take off your coat, putting them down on the coffee table where all available alcohol is waiting for you all. And there’s a lot - you would think a lot more people are coming tonight, but it really is just the seven of you, and Jungkook later.

You reckon it’s just another sign that tonight will be one for the books.

You start the evening by ordering dumplings, and you grab one of the lemonade drinks as you wait for the food to arrive, sipping from it as you talk with all of your friends. Mikey remains silent by Yoongi’s side, though you notice the way they’re holding hands, and you smile at the sight.

Yoongi is shining. His eyes are sparkling like you’ve never seen them do before, and he looks like the sun personified with Mikey by his side. He deserves the happiness, every single ounce of it, especially after what Hoseok put him through.

For some reason the thought reminds you of your old friend, and you wonder how Hoseok is doing on his side of the country. Has he found the solace he was seeking for? Though you’d long hated him for the way he’d ghosted everyone, tonight you reckon you forgive him.

You forgive him for what he put Yoongi through, only because it allowed Yoongi to experience this relationship now, a much needed relationship that’s been healing every jagged piece of his heart.

Your phone buzzes in the pocket of the sweatshirt you’re wearing - Jungkook’s shirt - and you pull it out, immediately smiling when you see that Jungkook texted you.

[5:57 pm] JK: am tipsy

[5:57 pm] JK: can’t wait to see you later

You laugh at his text, replying quickly to make sure to drink water, and then you put your phone away, focusing on the conversation again.

“That’s just because you’re jealous I can make good music!” Yoongi is saying, and Namjoon rolls his eyes, though the laugh on his lips tells you that they aren’t truly fighting.

“You say you make good music but none of us has ever heard your music, Yoongi,” Ria says, finger pointing at him like she’s scolding him. 

“You’ve never showed them your music?” Mikey intervenes.

Yoongi blushes, eyes falling to the floor. “Well, uh, I just never had the occasion to…”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Namjoon says. “Pull out the receipts, Yoongi.”

Yoongi shakes his head, looking around for salvation. He meets your gaze, but you only shrug your shoulders, a mischievous smile on your lips. You’ve been curious about his music too, so you certainly won’t be the one to encourage him to hide it for longer.

“I hate y’all,” Yoongi grumbles.

“I mean, you don’t have to share if you don’t want to,” Mikey says next to him, resting a hand on Yoongi’s thigh as Yoongi grabs his phone.

“Nah, it’s okay,” Yoongi reassures him, and they look at each other for a few seconds.

It’s intimate, and you look down at your drink to give them privacy. A few seconds later, the living room fills with the intro of a song, and your gaze widens when the lyrics start, all in Korean. You don’t think Yoongi’s the one singing, and you’re proven right when a rapper comes in, and you recognize Yoongi’s voice.

“Bro, what?” Seokjin lets out.

“Shhh!” Nabi says, and Ria fake-glares at Seokjin, who just purses his lips, visibly holding a laugh in.

The song is good. More than that, the song is moving, the emotions running high all throughout it, up until the end, when the instruments all stop except the piano, giving a melancholy ending to the song.

“Yoongi!” you let out. “That shit is fire.”

“Thanks,” Yoongi says, his cheeks turning deep red.

Mikey is smiling next to him as everyone congratulates him, and before you have time to listen to more of his music, Namjoon receives a text saying that the food has arrived. He goes downstairs with Seokjin to bring everything up, and a minute later you’re all eating at the kitchen table, Ria sitting on Seokjin’s lap so that everyone can fit around the table.

The evening unfolds with more music that Yoongi composed, songs he claims he wants to put in an EP he’ll release next year. You’re reeling at the beauty of his talent, and though he still turns red every time someone compliments him, you know his smile means he appreciates it, and is probably relieved that you all enjoy his music. 

You reckon Mikey helps, encouraging Yoongi whenever he looks too embarrassed, and you’re so happy for your friend you feel like crying. Or maybe that’s because you’re on your fourth - fifth? - lemonade and the alcohol has started messing with your brain.

Time flies, and Jungkook texts you that he’s on his way while you’re playing Jackbox on the TV, the laughter so loud in the small living room that you’re convinced the boys might get a noise complaint by the end of the evening. You’re excited to see Jungkook, deadly so, and you decide to meet him downstairs, needing some fresh air anyway.

The snow is still falling outside when you make your way downstairs. The streetlights colour it in neon orange, and it covers the ground in a soft blanket. You wait in the hall of the building, watching the world outside and thinking about how everything has changed in a year.

If someone had told you a year ago that you’d be dating your brother’s best friend now, you would have told them that they were crazy. 

Now you know there’s nothing crazy about you and Jeon Jungkook. It just makes sense. 

Jungkook arrives sometime later - it’s hard to tell if it’s been a long time or not when your head is swimming in alcohol. He smiles brightly the second he sees you, opening the door to walk into your arms.

You hug him tight to your chest, hiding your face in his neck as his arms snake around your waist. He smells of home - you’ve realized he’s become your home now - and you relax in his embrace, letting him sway you from side to side gently.

“Hey there,” he greets you with his softest voice, the one that’s reserved just for you.

“Hey,” you reply. There’s a silence as you tighten your hold on him, and then you pull away to meet his gaze. “I’m drunk.”

He laughs, pecking your forehead. “I’m tipsy. But I drank lots of water like you said.”

You nod approvingly and then return your head to his neck. Unable to resist, you lightly bite at the skin, and Jungkook yelps, jumping out of your arms.

“What was that for!”

You eye him up and down. “You look yummy.”

He snorts, grabbing your hand to pull you in. “Oh, you’re drunk drunk.”

“I’m not!” you insist, though you’re fully aware that you are.

It’s not like it matters - you know Jungkook will take care of you.

And he does - he gets you water as soon as you get inside, your friends greeting him in a chorus of hellos. He waves at them, forces you to sit down with the glass of water, and you sip from it as he grabs the beer Namjoon offers him. 

Namjoon and Jungkook’s friendship has blossomed over the last two months. They’ve gotten really close, often hanging out just the two of them, which you think is adorable. They apparently have more in common than you thought, Namjoon coming from a rich family as well.

Nothing like Jungkook, but still.

Jungkook sits in front of you on the floor, and you immediately slide down from the couch to sit behind him so that he can lean against your chest. You wrap your arm around his dainty waist, smiling softly as you peck the top of his head.

He glances at you, eyes gleaming with happiness, and then resumes his conversation with Namjoon.

This, you think, is happiness. This is the kind of scene you see in movies when everything is resolved after a long journey. It’s a coming of age - your coming of age, despite the fact that you aren’t a teenager anymore. 

You just know that, when you’ll be old and grey and reminding yourself of your college days, this is what you’ll think of. Jungkook’s presence amongst your friends, the gentle ambiance of the snow outside, the smiles and the laughter and the music filling the air. Everything - you’ll remember everything with vivid clarity when it’s time to go, knowing that this moment, and all of those related to Jungkook and your friend group, have forged the person that you’ll become.

The thought brings tears to your eyes - happy tears - and you blink them away as you hug Jungkook tighter. He looks back at you again, smiling softly, light filling those big doe eyes of his that you’ve been in love with since a certain power outage.

To think that your whole relationship with him started because of that outage - where would you be now if it hadn’t been for that?

“What?” Jungkook asks softly. 

“I love you,” you reply.

He grins, that adorable bunny grin of his that steals your breath each time. “I love you too.”

You know it - it’s been a law of your universe since you ran back home that October night, when you realized that your love for him was far more important than your brother being upset with him.

In truth, you think your love for Jeon Jungkook might have been the reason why you were put on this Earth - your purpose, if you will. Like the Fates weaved your story with his, until one can’t exist without the other.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tuesday, December 24th

Christmas Eve has been fun. You’ve been laughing around with Taehyung, Ariane, Jungkook and your mother, sharing way too much food at the dinner table. Good food - your mother has always been a good cook, whenever she finds the time to actually come up with a meal. Jungkook helped her too, and you haven’t missed the approving glances your mother has been throwing him all evening.

Ariane has received her good shares of those too. You can tell your mother is happy for both you and Taehyung, which makes you feel bad that you initially thought it was good that she’s currently single.

She deserves love, too.

You’re in the bathroom, sometime after midnight, mind swimming with the eggnog drinks that your mother made for everyone, when your phone buzzes in the back pocket of the mom jeans you’re wearing. You pull it out, blinking a few times, and your gaze widens when you focus on the text message you’ve received.

Mostly, your heart falls to your ass when you see who texted you.

[00:24 am] Hobi: hey, merry christmas! just wanted to text to apologize for dipping in april? that sucked of me and yeah, it’s christmas so i thought it was a good time to apologize

You reread the message a few times, wondering if you’re the only one that’s received an apology. You highly doubt you’re the one that needed it after all, and when your phone buzzes again a few seconds later, with a text from Yoongi, you realize you’re not.

[00:24 am] Yoongi: you’ll never believe who just texted me

You slide your phone open, ignoring the conversation with Hoseok to head straight to the one with Yoongi. You type your reply, worrying at your bottom lip as you send it.

[00:25 am] You: i know the fuck he texted me too

[00:25 am] You: how are you feeling?

Yoongi doesn’t reply right away, and you decide not to reply to Hoseok either, instead stuffing your phone back in your back pocket before washing your hands. You return to the kitchen after, where everyone’s been waiting for you to play your turn in the game of Ticket to Ride you’ve started at midnight.

You can’t believe Hoseok texted you. It feels like a ghost coming back to haunt you, reminding you that you’d been friends with benefits, albeit on a break, this time last year. Perhaps that is why Hoseok chose to text you too - you meant something to him to a certain extent.

“Everything okay?” Jungkook asks as you frown, trying to remember what it is you wanted to do in the game.

You blink once, meeting his gaze. “Yeah.” You nod, repeating the word, and then you pick up two green wagon cards.

Jungkook lets it slide, focusing on the game too, and you all but forget about Hoseok’s text when your mother gives you another eggnog drink. You finish the game a little while later - Ariane winning grandiosely - and then you all head to bed after wishing each other a last Merry Christmas.

Jungkook plops down on your childhood bed as you walk into your room, and you close the door, leaning against it as you smile fondly. He props his chin on his hands, looking at you. 

“Tonight was fun,” he says.

You nod, smile growing wider. “It really was. But wait until tomorrow, that’s where all the fun is.”

Indeed, you’re going to visit your grandparents’ house tomorrow evening, along with all of your uncles and aunts and cousins.  It’s tradition every year, and it’s the first time you’re bringing someone. You’d be a little anxious, if not for the fact that you know your grandmother is already obsessed with Jungkook from everything your mother told her.

“I can’t wait,” Jungkook says, and the soft curve of his lips tells you he means it.

You cross the distance between you, lying down on the bed next to him. Jungkook shifts, opening his arms for you to slide into his embrace, and he holds you tight, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

“I mostly can’t wait to give you your gift tomorrow morning,” he adds, his mouth moving against you. He pulls away, rubbing his face to take out from his mouth the hair he clearly almost swallowed from talking against your head. “You’ll be so happy.”

“You really didn’t need to give me a gift,” you say.

“You think I haven’t noticed the suspiciously large box with my name on it under the Christmas tree?”

You shrug. “Maybe it’s from Taehyung.”

“It’s written from peach.”

You snort, laughing against his chest. “And what about it?”

“You’re allowed to get me a gift but I can’t get you one?”

You nod forcefully. “Yeah. You already got me that dress anyway.”

He laughs, rolling on his back. He pulls you with him until you’re lying next to him with your head on his chest. “That was almost a year ago, it doesn’t count.”

“It does,” you mumble.

He chuckles, the sound rumbling deeply in his chest. “You’re adorable, I love you.” He pecks the top of your head again. “Besides, what did you get me?”

“What did you get me?” you ask, gaze narrowed as you look up at him.

His next peck lands on your forehead. “Not telling you.”

“Well then, I’m not telling you either,” you smugly reply.

He laughs, tightening his hold around you. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

Your heart stops in your chest, and then it starts again on a wilder beat you hear echoed behind his ribcage.

“I love you too, Kook.”

“Luckiest man alive,” he whispers, and it’s rhetorical, not asking for a reply. 

All you do is grin as you start tracing idle shapes on his stomach. You fall silent - the kind of comfortable silence you can only share with him - up until you remember Hoseok’s text. It makes you prop yourself up on an elbow, and you meet Jungkook’s gaze.

“You’ll never guess who texted me earlier.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Who did?” 

“Hobi,” you reveal.

Jungkook’s gaze widens. “The guy you used to fuck?”

You roll your eyes, pinching his side. “Yes. But mostly Yoongi’s… ex?”

“You did use to fuck though, I heard you guys.”

“Oh my God, Kook.”

He offers you a shit-eating grin. “What?”

“You’re annoying.”

He pulls you on top of him until you’re straddling him. “But you love me.”

You narrow your eyes, glaring at him. “But you’re annoying.”

His hands, now on your hips, tighten slightly, and your brain chooses this instant to zero in on the spot.

“Do you know how much it drove me crazy?” he says, and his voice is suddenly low, husky, shooting warmth right to your core. “I fucking wanted to beat his ass.”

You cock an eyebrow, tilting your head to the side as a smirk appears on your lips. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.” He forces you to circle your hips, and you’re not surprised to find him already getting hard. “I’d imagine it was me instead.” It’s Jungkook’s turn to smirk, and he sits up to kiss you, his tongue pushing into your mouth once before he lies back down. “And then when I was fucking Shelly and you were touching yourself?”

You’re turning molten, like you’re metal melting in a forge. “Yeah?”

“That’s when I knew that whatever I’d promised to Tae didn’t matter anymore.” He grinds into you. “I needed to have you, one way or another.”

You crash your lips on his so hard you taste blood. He’s quick to slide his hands under your shirt, and he fumbles with the fabric until you part to allow him to take it off your body. You’re only wearing a red bralette you bought before finals, and Jungkook’s gaze darkens at the sight.

“Shit peach, you’re always so fucking hot.”

“One way or another, you say?” you repeat what he said earlier.

He looks confused for a heartbeat, and then he nods. “Yeah. I was into you already then, as you know, but damn every time I touched myself all I could think about was you.”

“Outrageous,” you tease as you circle your hips once more.

He grunts softly. “Oh, peach, don’t pretend you weren’t thinking of me too.”

You lean forward, sucking on his lower lip, your tongue then flicking at his piercings. “Oh, you know I was thinking about you,” you say against his mouth.

You move down enough to find his neck, your teeth teasing the skin before you suck on it, yet you refrain from leaving a mark.

You don’t want your mother asking questions tomorrow.

Jungkook grunts as you lick at the spot, and then move back up to nibble at his jaw. His large hands on your waist caress up your flanks until he reaches your breasts that he shamelessly cups, his fingers immediately searching for your nipples. He pinches them, hard enough to hurt, and you moan out loud, hiding your face in his neck.

“Careful, peach,” Jungkook warns. “We wouldn’t want your family hearing us.”

You bite at his neck again and he hisses. “What did you just say?”

“Fuck,” he groans, and it sounds like a growl. “Now I want to fucking ruin you.”

You straighten, your hands landing flat on his chest to hold him down. “Why don’t you let me have my fun tonight?”

His dark gaze surveys you carefully as you climb down his body until you’re sitting on his legs. You grip his thighs and then slide your hands up to his clothed erection. You run a hand along it and then move up to push his shirt up, revealing the strong muscles of his abdomen. You graze them with your nails, and Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut as your other hand returns to his dick.

“How should I please you tonight?” you ask.

You lean forward and, unable to resist, you suck a hickey on the spot right above the hem of his pants. Jungkook instinctively bucks his hips in response, and you smirk as you sit back on your heels again.

“Someone’s impatient,” you tease.

“Peach…” he warns.

“Be nice,” you say. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

He takes a sharp breath, and then nods curtly. You bite at your lower lip, a smirk teasing the corner of your lips.

“Good boy.”

He groans, but then you’re ridding him of his pants and boxers, and his dick springs free, slapping his abs. He looks just as pretty as he always does, the large vein running up his dick begging to be licked. You don’t even resist - you immediately bend down, tracing it with your tongue up to his tip, which you circle once before pulling away just enough to grab the base of his dick.

You stroke him slowly, meeting his gaze. His cheeks are flushed with arousal, eyes shining with lust and desire, all of it for you. You feel powerful - you have him wrapped around your finger, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

It’s with that thought that you finally take him in your mouth, not breaking eye contact. He clenches his jaw to hold a moan in, and you take him as deep as you can, your eyes watering when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath.

You pull almost all the way out, hollowing your cheeks as you suck on his tip, teasing his frenulum with your tongue. His dick twitches, but you’re holding him tight, keeping him in place.

You get to work, bobbing up and down, drooling all over him. You use your drool as natural lube so that you can jerk him off in time with your motions, and Jungkook grows infinitely hard in your mouth, so much so that you wouldn’t be surprised if he came.

You wouldn’t mind - he always tastes good for you, and the thought of it is making you soak through your panties to the point you think your pants might even be affected. But then again, Jungkook always makes you so wet.

No one’s ever fucked you as good as him after all.

You take him all the way in, and Jungkook thrusts up, grunting as you moan around him. His hands are in your hair, and he’s been guiding your movements, though always allowing you to pull away to breathe when you need it.

So when you decide to pull away so that you can suck on his balls, he lets you do it. You reward him by jerking him off quickly, your grip tight on his dick just the way you know he likes, and he fists at the sheets of your bed, fucking into your hand.

Right before you think he’s about to come, Jungkook pulls you away. He’s panting heavily, and you barely have time to breathe before he flips you on your back, climbing on top of you so that he can kiss you. 

The kiss is ravishing, languid, all tongues and saliva and his teeth digging into your bottom lip. You barely can contain your moans when he drives your legs apart with a knee he then presses on your clothed core, and you can’t help but grind on his leg, searching for much-needed friction.

Jungkook leaves your mouth to leave a trail of wet kisses down your neck, and then on your clavicle. He sucks a purple mark underneath it, and you arch your back in his touch as he cups your breasts again, massaging them.

“Peach,” he says as he’s looking at your necklace where it lies between your breasts. “You’re so perfect.”

And then he’s pushing your bralette up enough to have access to your nipples. His mouth closes around one while he pinches the other between his thumb and index, and you lose your hand in his jet-black strands, pulling on his hair just a little by reflex.

His tongue circles your nipple, and then he licks at it twice. It hardens in his mouth as you hold your moans in, and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he shifts to your other nipple, offering it the same treatment.

“Take this off,” you breathe, pulling at the fabric of his shirt.

Jungkook raises his head, meeting your gaze. His lips are glistening with his saliva, and he looks so devilish you think you’d be able to come just like that.

“Take it off for me,” he teases.

You roll your eyes despite your lips curving in a smile, and you pull his shirt off, throwing it on the floor. You rake your nails on his back - lightly, not hard enough to leave a mark - when he returns to your nipples, devouring your breasts like a man starved.

“I fucking love every part of you, you know that right?” he says when he pulls away.

You nod, but he’s already going down your body, reaching for your pants. He takes them off, and to your surprise, he takes your panties off too, leaving you naked and gleaming when he pushes your thighs apart to look at you properly.

“So pretty…” he praises.

You want to tell him to fuck you, that you don’t even need foreplay right now - you’ve been feeling your juices dripping out of your pussy for a while - but he doesn’t leave you time to speak, immediately diving in, lapping a large stripe from your entrance up to your clit. He swirls his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves, and you put your hand over your mouth to muffle your moan.

“Silence, peach,” he reminds you, and then he circles your clit again. “I really don’t want your mother to look at me differently tomorrow morning.”

You don’t have anything left in your brain to say that she wouldn’t care, and maybe that’s good - you’re pretty sure she would, as a matter of fact, care.

“Sorry,” you apologize.

Jungkook shoots you a quick glance, and he pecks the inside of your thigh lovingly, miles away from the lust transpiring from this moment. “I love you,” he breathes against your skin, and then he’s back on your pussy.

He eats you out like he’s a demon come from hell, and soon enough he pushes two fingers inside of you, fighting against your tightening muscles. You take a deep breath to relax, and a few seconds later he arches his fingers, rubbing them on the most sensitive spot inside of you. It makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your mouth falls open on a silent moan as he starts fingering you, quick and hard, always rubbing your g-spot. He times his fingers with his tongue, and it’s no wonder he’s dragging you towards an orgasm at eighty miles per hour.

It’s no wonder it hits you like a slap to the face when he sucks on your clit hard, and your thighs close around his face as your back arches off the bed, your climax hitting so hard you feel like you’re swimming in the night sky, amongst stars and galaxies and nebulas.

You’re shaking, thighs trembling, as he milks your orgasm out for so long you think you’ll die, but eventually his fingers leave your pulsing walls, and he licks them clean. You watch him, your eyelids heavy with the ecstasy invading your bloodstream, and you feel fucked out, your mind like cotton as he positions himself between your legs.

“Have you had enough?” he asks, teasing your entrance with his cock. “Or do you want me to fuck you?”

You reach for him, fingers grazing his chest and abs. “Shit, Kook.”

He grins wickedly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you repeat. You chuckle lightly, and then you glance around. “I do want you to fuck me,” you whisper, “but my bed creaks a hell of a lot.”

Jungkook shrugs, picking you up in one swift motion that makes your mind swim even more. The room spins around you as Jungkook carries you off the bed, and then he sits you on the floor. He grabs a bunch of pillows, arranging them in a makeshift bed on the floor, and then he motions at it, a proud smile on his lips.

“Voilà,” he says.

You snort. “You’ll fuck me on this?”

He smirks, picking you up to lie you down on the pillows. It’s a little unsteady, but when he positions himself between your legs again, you forget all about it.

Even more so as he rubs his dick on your clit, and meteorites erupt in front of your eyes.

“Yeah I will,” he says. “Unless you don’t want me to?”

You gulp, your throat suddenly dry with arousal, and you nod your head. “Fuck me, Kook.”

He doesn’t need more to push in, and he sheathes all of himself inside of you. Or at least all that fits, and he’s quick to put a hand over your mouth to keep you from moaning. You bite at his palm, and he startles, moving his hand away.

“That was mean,” he says, a pout appearing on his swollen lips.

Fuck, you love him so bad.

“Sorry,” you apologize.

He narrows his gaze, bending down to steal a quick, gentle kiss on your lips. “No you’re not,” he says.

“I’m not,” you agree.

He pulls almost all the way out, leaving just an inch of him in. “And for that reason, I’ll fuck you until all you remember is my name.”

He pushes all the way in again, and you bite your lip to refrain from crying his name out. It becomes much harder when he starts pounding into you, and soon your room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin, and of the squelching your pussy makes every time he fucks into you. It’s clearly loud enough for everyone in the apartment to hear, but faint music is coming from Taehyung’s room, and you know your mother sleeps with foam earplugs in.

You can only hope they don’t hear you when you moan Jungkook’s name. He gently rests his hand against your mouth again then, though he’s quick to push a finger in instead. You suck on it, teasing the pad with your tongue, and Jungkook grunts as he jack-hammers you, so much so you fall off the makeshift bed.

You both don’t care - you don’t even think Jungkook realizes. He’s too busy rearranging your gut, and you’re too busy trying to not moan like you want to do. Jungkook keeps at it for a while, strands of hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead, but his pace remains unforgiving, a reminder that he has a solid cardio from all the hours he spends at the gym.

Eventually, Jungkook gets bored of the position, and he pulls out. You get a glimpse of his wet dick before he flips you on your stomach, and he’s quick to fuck into you again, the new angle so good you feel like you’re floating somewhere between your body and the ceiling.

His forearm is next to your head, and you hold onto his wrist as he pounds into you. You know he’s nearing his high when his motions grow unfocused, slower, and soon he bends down, grunting against the side of your face as he releases his load deep inside of you, painting you white.

You hold onto him as he comes, circling your hips to prolong his pleasure, up until he stops you with a hand on your waist. He pecks the side of your face, and you turn your head to be able to kiss him properly. It tastes like the sweat that’s collected on his upper lip, but you don’t care. Not when it’s his sweat, and you are so obsessed with him you wish you were under his skin.

“Fuck,” he grunts when he pulls away from the kiss. 

He pecks your cheek again and then straightens to search for something to clean you up with. He reaches for the tissues on the night table, and he takes a bunch of them that he puts against you before he even pulls out.

You both manage to avoid making a mess, and Jungkook lets you go clean up first. You put on his shirt, as it’s long enough to be a dress on you, and then you head to the bathroom, where you take a quick shower. Jungkook goes next, kissing you deeply before leaving your room, and you wait for him under the covers of your bed, your heart still beating wildly from the sex.

As it always does when it comes to sex with Jungkook.

Jungkook comes back about five minutes later, and he slides under the covers with you as you’re on your phone, looking at the conversation with Yoongi.

He still hasn’t replied, and though that worries you, you know he’s probably just busy with his own Christmas celebration.

“Everything okay?” Jungkook asks as he molds himself to your back, an arm wrapping around your waist.

You turn on your back, going in for a soft kiss that settles your heartbeat in your chest. 

“Yes,” you reassure him. 

You glance at your phone again and then switch to the conversation with Hoseok. “I don’t know what I should say.”

Jungkook blinks a few times like he needs it to focus on your screen, and then he reads Hoseok’s message. “I mean…” he lets out. “He seems genuine.”

“I know, but it’s weird no?”

Jungkook purses his lips. “Why?”

“Because I’m with you now,” you explain.

His eyes widen. “Oh, is that because of what I said earlier?”

You nod, worrying at some dry skin on your lower lip.

“Oh, peach,” he says, and he pecks your forehead. “I really don’t mind if you want to reply. I was only teasing earlier.”

You cock an eyebrow, not entirely believing him. He smiles sheepishly, shrugging your shoulders.

“Were you?”

“Well…” he trails off, turning on his back as he looks up at the ceiling. “I was jealous, yes. But as you said, he mostly is Yoongi’s ex. What you guys had hasn’t mattered for a really long time.”

He’s right. He’s entirely right, and it reassures you, enough so that you don’t feel guilty for replying to Hoseok, right before you decide to turn off your phone for the night.

[2:37 am] You: hey merry christmas! no worries:)

You put your phone away, and then you turn to face Jungkook, wrapping your arm around his dainty waist as he wraps his around you, one of his biceps a perfect pillow for your head. You sigh in contentment, knowing that you are right where you’re supposed to be in the world - by Jungkook’s side. 

Home, wherever he is.

You fall asleep with love in your heart, shining bright on you despite the dark, winter night outside.  

Monday, December 30th

The restaurant is crowded, lively chatter and clinking utensils filling the atmosphere with the type of life only the holidays can provide. Taehyung sits at the head of the table, a bright smile on his lips as your mother explains to Ariane and Jungkook how you come to this restaurant each year when there’s a special occasion.

By that, she means your and Taehyung’s birthdays, as you spend hers on the camping trip.

“We started when you were what?” your mother says, looking at Taehyung. “Fourteen?”

“Thirteen,” he answers. “We came with a bunch of friends from middle school, and Y/n was complaining the whole time.”

“I was not,” you say, pouting slightly. “You were just ignoring me the whole time because I wasn’t cool enough.”

“You really weren’t.” Taehyung’s teasing remark earns him a slap on the arm from your mother, and Ariane telling him to shut up. “What! She was just obsessed with One Direction, it was annoying.”

“And what about it?” Ariane says. “One Direction was a good group!”

Horror inches into Taehyung’s gaze. “Not you too.”

Ariane rolls her eyes, but then the waitress stops by your table, taking everyone’s order. An easy conversation follows, your mother telling you about interesting cases she saw at the ER over the last few months. Jungkook looks appalled when she mentions certain of them, his eyes about to bulge out of his head.

“You’re good?” you let out, patting his thigh reassuringly. 

“We’re supposed to eat after she’s told us all of that?” he asks, his widened gaze sliding to you.

You snort. “Yes, we are.”

He sits back in his chair, folding his arms on his chest. “Damn.” You just laugh even more, and he looks at you again. “It’s not funny!”

“It is,” you insist. “You’re adorable.”

He glares at you, though his eyes are gleaming with too much amusement for you to believe he means it. “So are you.”

“Right right,” you say, at the same time as Taehyung fake-gags. 

“You guys are disgusting,” your brother says. 

“And you think you’re better?” your mother intervenes. “You all should listen to him when he calls me and gushes about Ariane.”

Taehyung flushes red as Ariane leans towards your mother. “Oh? What does he say?”

“Namely that he thinks you’re the love of his life, and that he wants to marry…”

“Stop!” Taehyung interjects. “Fuck, mom, this is not necessary.”

He’s so red he looks like he might pass out, and you can’t help but laugh at his expense. “Don’t worry, Ari, he’s always been a hopeless romantic.”

“I’m not!”

Ariane laughs, and she rubs his back. “You are. I love that about you.”

Taehyung’s distressed features turn into a soft smile, and you roll your eyes teasingly. 

The rest of the dinner goes well, all of you eating your fill. Jungkook finishes your dish when you declare yourself defeated, and you speak with your brother without any animosity for the first time in months.

It’s relieving, far more than you would admit it. Or perhaps it’s because he’s invited you to the party one of his childhood friends is hosting, which he never did before. You know it’s because Jungkook is his closest friend now, but you still appreciate the invitation, and the party that comes with it.

Taehyung’s always partied the hardest surrounded by his friends, and tonight is no different. It’s a night of drinking and revelry and bright smiles, loud music to accompany the chatter and drinking games and everything that makes a party a good party. There’s a hot tub, and you and Jungkook spend far too long in it accompanied by Ariane, Taehyung and two of his other friends, taking turns rolling in the snow before jumping back into the hot tub.

The stars shine on and on above you all, and though it’s freezing outside you think they might allow you a piece of summer in the winter night.

You head home before Taehyung, walking hand in hand with Jungkook. You’re both tipsy, even maybe a little drunk, yet it doesn’t deter you. Not when the night is beautiful, and you have Jungkook next to you.

“I still can’t believe you got me that frame,” Jungkook says as he notices you looking up at the stars, your eyes going over the Orion constellation.

Indeed, you got him a star map of Valentine’s Day last year for Christmas. It’s beautiful, and Jungkook grew teary-eyed when you gave it to him, telling him that it was a map of the night you’d fallen in love. He promised he’d hang it in his room the second you returned to your apartment, and then he sheepishly gave you your gift.

Your reaction to his gift was… much less wholesome than his. You were outraged, telling him that he was crazy to spend so much money on you, and Jungkook just shrugged his shoulders, telling you you deserved it.

You still think he’s crazy. But over the last few days, he’s slowly convinced you that it’s going to be fun, that you truly do deserve the gift…

And who would say no to a trip to Bora Bora?

“I’m sorry,” you let out. “You fucking bought first-class plane tickets to go to Bora Bora. My gift looks like nothing compared to yours.”

“It’s not nothing!” Jungkook insists. “It’s the most sentimental gift I’ve ever received.” He smiles at you, his big doe eyes swimming with love for you. “It’ll forever be my favourite gift.”

You can’t help the smile that curves your lips upwards as your heart warms in your chest. “You deserve it,” you say, and you mean it.

Jungkook deserves every proof that people do love him. That his parents don’t know shit when it comes to him - you’ll try your best to shower him with all of the love your heart holds, every day of your life with him.

“And you deserve the trip,” Jungkook says. “You always work so hard in college, I just want you to relax for a while.”

“With you,” you say, eyes glinting with mischief. 

“Obviously.”

He pulls you in, interrupting your walk, and he kisses your forehead softly. Your heart grows even warmer, so much so that you think flowers are blooming in your soul, like a garden bursting into life.

You get home together with him, your mother seemingly fast asleep in her room from the soft snores that come from behind her door. You make your way to your room, and Jungkook plugs in your old fairy lights, even though they’re so dim now you barely can make out anything.

“Thank you,” Jungkook says as he sits on your bed.

You sit next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. “What for?”

“For everything,” he replies, and he wraps his arms around you to pull you into his chest. “Getting to love you is the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

“Oh, Jungkook…” you trail off, looking up to see the silver lining his gaze.

“I love you more every day, peach,” he whispers. “It’s… it’s a gift.”

You cup his cheek, tilting your head backwards as you pull him down. The kiss is soft, gentle. The kiss is everything that makes Jungkook Jungkook, and you you. It’s the months of struggle that led to so much beauty, it’s the knowledge that, wherever you’ll go in this life, he’ll be by your side.

It’s the knowledge that he’s the one for you, and you’re the one for him.

When you pull away from the kiss, what seems like an eternity later, Jungkook pulls out his phone from his pocket. You watch him curiously as the device lights up his features, and a second later, your room fills with the first chord of Chasing Cars.

Of your song.

“Cuddle?” Jungkook asks.

You can’t say no to those big, doe eyes, and you lie down with him, your head on his chest.

“You know,” Jungkook says when the first chorus starts. “Ever since you showed me this song, it’s been my favourite.” He pauses, pecks the top of your head. “Not that I didn’t know it before. But it makes me think of you now.”

Just like it makes you think of him.

“It does?” you let out.

You feel him nod more than you see him. “When I marry you, I want it to be the song we dance to.”

Your gaze widens, and you prop yourself up on an elbow so that you can look at him. And despite the dim light in your room, despite the blurriness in your gaze from the happy tears he summoned, his beauty shines for you. So bright, a proof that he’s the Sun in your life.

He’s the astral body you were meant to orbit.

“When you marry me?”

His arm tightens around you. “Yes, when I marry you.”

You smile, brighter than a summer day. “You’ll be my husband.”

“And you’ll be my wife.”

You laugh, a crystal clear sound that heals whatever wounds were left from the months apart. From that night Taehyung punched him and kicked him out. From every time you thought that your timing didn’t align and that maybe you weren’t meant to be in this universe.

But you are. You’ve always been meant to be, haven’t you?

“Let’s start by calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend, shall we?”

He pouts. “M’kay, then. Girlfriend.”

Another laugh tumbles from your lips, and you put your head back on his shoulder. He runs a soothing hand on your back, while you trace random shapes on his chest, and you think this is it.

This is a moment that will be forever engraved in your memory, to look back on whenever you have a bad day. A first moment - though it’s hardly the first - of a long line of events that will make up the story of you and Jeon Jungkook.

The song reaches its last chorus, and your heart, beating in sync with Jungkook’s, reaches the nirvana of you and him.

If I lay here 

If I just lay here

Would you lie with me, and just forget the world?

And you think, perhaps your story was already written in between the lines of your favourite song - a story of resilient love, and of promises of forever. Perhaps it was written between the first verse and the chorus, or perhaps it was written in the melody. It’s hard to tell - you just know it’s become a law of your universe. 

Now, you’ll lie with Jungkook, and maybe you’ll even forget the world. It’ll just be him, forever.

And you’ll spend the rest of your life chasing cars around his head.

Prev

☆☆☆☆☆

I am so emotional please do not touch me :') I can't believe this story is over. I hope you guys loved the ride - let me know what you think about this last chapter <3

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[holybibly]

Ateez and oral sex Part II

Holy Bibly version | Part I

Seonghwa: Oh God, that man. Do I even need to tell you that he lives for your pussy? He loves oral sex, and he is definitely a giver. Of course, Seonghwa will not turn down a blowjob, but damn it, in every situation and at every opportunity, his mouth will end up between your legs. Loud, shameless, and passionate, sex is definitely an art form for him, so it will be fucking hours of endless pleasure, but be prepared for the fact that Seonghwa is not going to be gentle. I know it's common to think that Hwa is a gentle and soft boy, but bunnies, let's face it, he's an Aries; he's got this fiery aggressive side to him, and haven't you seen how he grabs the other members by the neck? So it doesn't matter if he's eating you or you're sucking his dick; it's going to be pretty intense.

Seonghwa, like Wooyoung, loves unbreakable eye contact; he wants to savour every second of your licking and kissing of his dick. His eyes are focused on every little movement of your tongue as you slowly lick the velvety length. He also likes to run his swollen, wet head over your lips, coating them with his pre-cum until they are all shiny and sticky. He moans deep and long as you take more of his dick into your warm mouth. As soon as the head of his dick hits the back of your throat, he begins to fuck you slowly and deeply. His thrusts are always calculated and careful; he doesn't want to hurt you, but sometimes his demonic side awakens and he literally fucks your face until you cry and choke on his dick. Seonghwa loves the feel of your tongue rubbing against the bulging vein on his length every time his cock enters your mouth. Just like San, Hwa loves your sucking and licking of his balls. He may also have a request for you to warm his cock in your mouth. He usually asks you to swallow his cum, but he may also cum on your lips or chest, depending on his mood. Seonghwa doesn't mind kissing you afterwards, just so he can have a taste of his own sperm on your tongue.

Seonghwa is definitely the type of guy who is completely drunk with your pussy. Gifted with a rather long and skilled tongue, Hwa will never miss an opportunity to use it to give you the most vivid sensations. For him, this is a full-fledged sexual encounter, and he does not need to fuck your pussy; it will be enough for him that he can make you come just with his tongue and his fingers several times. The way you fall apart when he is licking your hole or slowly sucking on your clit will give him a euphoric feeling of pleasure. He can slide his tongue between your folds for hours on end and slowly fuck you with his fingers until you are crying out in pleasure. He is 100% a fan of squirting, and when you do it just from oral stimulation, he will be so smug and horny at the same time that he will definitely want to do it again. It doesn't matter for him if you're riding on his face or your legs thrown over his shoulders, you lying on a table with your legs spread wide for him, or he kneeling in front of you; Seonghwa is absolutely happy with any position as long as he can taste you. He loves to fuck you with his tongue, his fingers spreading the delicate folds of your cunt to get better access to your dripping hole as his tongue slides in and out of you. Loud as fuck - moaning, whining, purring and constantly telling you how good you taste and how much he loves pleasuring you with his mouth, when he devours you like the sweetest dessert in the world. Bonus if you pull his hair or push his face even closer to your pussy. You'll cum at least 3–4 times before it gets too much for you or doesn't turn into full-blown sex. Generally, Hwa will be quite happy with just the fact that you've squirted all over his pretty face, but if he does fuck you afterwards, expect him to stick his tongue between your folds again after he cum inside your cunt, this time to clean you of his cum.

Yeosang: I think Yeo is also more on the giving side. For him, oral sex is associated with comfort and relaxation, so whether you're blowing him or he's eating you, it's always going to be leisurely and prolonged. Something that helps the two of you relax, and it will be a very intimate act for both of you. Yeosang can also do without fucking you after you have both cum from the oral sex. He is a lover of beautiful things, so he likes it when you fuck in a certain atmosphere. He is not a fan of quick sex. It's hard for me to say if he would be rude to you; it's more dependent on his mood and needs. But Yeosang can be both very careful and gentle, and he can dominate you harshly, subjugating you to himself and controlling you as he wants.

Beautiful—that's what you should look like when you are licking his dick. Yeosang would also like you to have shiny, sticky lip gloss on your lips to smear all over his hard, thick length as you suck him off. He is somewhere between San and Mingi in this respect. He likes it when you take him deep, swallowing his cock all the way down until the swollen head rests against the back of your throat. And at the same time, he also wants you to pay special attention to the head of his cock, to circle it with your tongue, and to suck it gently. He also wants you to give him a handjob while you're blowing him. The sight of your hand wrapped around his thick cock will drive him mad, and Sangie may even want you to do it with lace gloves on. "God, you look so beautiful." A deep and gentle moan and never-ending praise. This is the kind of guy who will stroke your hair like a kitten while his dick is in your mouth as deep as balls. He would definitely like it if you started to drool. When Yeosang is in the mood to dominate you, he will fuck your mouth in a deep, hard rhythm until you gag. He will growl and roll his eyes in pleasure as he hears the sound of you gurgling and grunting around the thick circumference of his cock. He will also grab hold of your head with both of his hands to hold you in place as he thrusts himself into you. He likes to come on your chest and smear his own cum all over your skin. He will also be fascinated by the sight of the thick, milky liquid as it flows down into the valley between your tits. He may even want to come on your panties as well.

Yeosang is never in a hurry when eating your pussy; he pays great attention to the process - slowly licking and sucking your folds. For him, this is one of the best ways to relax; all he wants to do is please his beautiful girl with some amazing cunnilingus and get rid of any accumulated stress along the way. He licks your clitoris sweetly with the tip of his tongue and makes soft, deep moans and grunts. Clearly, this is the type of guy who can eat you out through your lacy panties while rubbing his nose against you or licking his own cum off you. Yeosang loves lace, and he especially loves it when you are wearing it. Despite his gentle and shy appearance, he has a terribly dirty mouth and is more of a wolf in sheep's clothing than an angel from heaven. "Do you like that, little bitch? The way my tongue fucks your pretty pussy?" "You're such a sweet bunny; squirt on my tongue; let me taste more of  you." "Your pussy is so beautiful; should I take a photo? So that the other boys can enjoy the view too." He looks up at you from his perch between your legs, smiling smugly as his whole mouth is smeared with your juices. Long, sticky strands of your mucus connect his mouth to your cunt. He spreads your plump lips with his thumbs, revealing your pink, tight hole and the way your clit twitches when his hot breath touches that sensitive bundle of nerves. Yeosang loves it when you pull his hair while he sucks on your pussy as if it were a piece of candy. He would also love to fuck you with my tongue while you are in the 69 position and you are warming up his dick in your throat. 100% is going to overstimulate you until you have at least three orgasms.

Hongjoong: Another Dom of pleasure who is ready to worship you for hours on end and to please you with his lips and his tongue. He loves oral sex, perhaps too much; as for Hongjoong, it is an act of power and possessiveness, but even if you cum on his tongue and fingers several times, he will not rest until he has fucked you senseless. The contrast between the way he worships you and the way he fucks you like a whore at the same time will drive you mad. Millions of hickeys and bruises on your thighs, on your chest, on your neck, on your inner thighs, and even on your tender mound—his signature. If Hongjoong had his way, he would burn the marks of his lips into your skin so that every damn guy in the world would know that you were taken. Joong is more of a giver, but he'll want just as much attention and affection from you in return, so be prepared for your throat and jaw to be sore for a couple of days after he's had his way with you.

The sight of you on your knees in front of him, licking and slobbering all over his cock, will drive him mad. His hands will be in your hair, tugging at the strands and occasionally lifting your face so that you can look into his eyes as your lips stretch around the red, swollen head of his cock. As your tongue slides along his slit, picking up the drops of pre-cum that have been released, he moans loudly and growls. Absolutely shameless. Hongjoong is definitely the kind of guy who will tell you how good you are making him feel and how much he loves your hot and wet mouth. "That's it, princess; go deeper. Show me how much you want my cock." "You are such an obedient little girl; Daddy is so proud of you." "I want to see how you choke on my dick while I fuck you down your throat." In spite of his tough exterior, Hongjoong is actually quite sensitive, and the way your tongue licks the base of his cock and the balls of his dick will literally make him see the stars. On certain days, Joong may ask you to keep his dick warm in your mouth while he works. He is also aware of your oral fixation and will be more than happy to satisfy your desperate need to keep something in your mouth by letting you suck on the head of his cock as if it were a lollipop. In 8 out of 10 cases, he'll come on your face, enjoying watching his thick, warm cum run down your cheeks, stick at your eyelashes, and glisten on your pretty lips. For him, this is an act of power, a reaffirmation that you are completely his property. In fact, Hongjoong may even forbid you to wash your face while he fucks you to the point of unconsciousness.

A totally dirty and selfless eater—sucking, kissing, licking, fucking you with his tongue and his fingers—all of it mixed with loud moans, satisfied grunts, and an endless stream of depraved words. "Look how you flow for me, Princess. Daddy loves it so fucking much." "You have such a beautiful pussy. And it's all mine." "Come on, angel, cum on my tongue." Fucking intense eye contact, he keeps his eyes on you as his tongue licks up the juices that are leaking out of you. He left hickeys and scratched your inner thighs. Lapping up your slime like it's the sweetest thing in the world, Hongjoong just can't get enough of you. He'll lick you for hours, and bunnies, we all know how skilled his tongue is, so each of your orgasms will be more powerful than the last. You will be 100% squirting. As he literally buries himself in your pussy, plunging his tongue deep into your hole and rubbing your clit with his nose, his whole face will be wet with your juices. His tongue will lick your silky walls until you are crying and writhing in agony. His beautiful lips will wrap around your clit as he scratches your thighs, leaving rough red stripes on your skin. He will blow on your wet folds to see you shudder as the cold air comes into contact with your sensitive pussy. He desperately wants you to ride on his face as you pull on his hair and use him like a fucking toy. He will need you to come at least five times before he really starts to fuck your brains out.

Jongho: I have the feeling that Jongho is more classic in a way. He prefers to have actual penetrative sex rather than oral sex, and for him, it's all just a prelude. Of course, he likes to feel your warm mouth on his dick, and he doesn't mind eating you. But for him, it won't be something super intense and long-lasting, unlike Seonghwa, Mingi, or Wooyoung. Jongho also likes to get sucked off more than he likes to eat you. Most of the time, it will be you who will be on your knees in front of him with your tongue obediently out of your mouth.

He's definitely one of those who likes it when you're leading. It will only turn him on even more if you get down on your knees in front of him without saying a word to him or begging. "Such a good girl," he will say as he strokes your hair and looks down at you. Jongho would also love it if you would rub your face against his clothed cock before you wrap your lips around the thick, hot length of it. He'll hold your head with both hands as he fucks you in the mouth, enjoying your grunting and moaning as you gasp on his dick. Definitely a fan of the face fuck. It can be slower or faster depending on his mood, but either option is quite messy. He loves it when he pulls his dick out of your mouth to see the drool running down your chin and neck mixed with his pre-cum. "I love how fucked you already look; you're such a beautiful baby." Take a deep breath and hiss as you run your tongue along the length of his dick, paying special attention to the swollen, pulsating vein. Jongho loves it when you take him deep into your throat so he can see his cock bulging on your neck. In 10 out of 10 cases, he will rub it with his thumb. "That's right, baby. You're doing so well. Good girl." Feeling the walls of your throat contract around the thick girth of his cock will almost make him cum. But Jongho is the kind of guy who prefers to cum inside your little cunt so he can enjoy the sight of his thick cum pouring out of you.

Jongho prefers fingering to eating pussy, but if you ask him or if he's in the mood for it, he'll never refuse to put his mouth on your wet, plump cunt. Before he starts to lick you out, he is going to stretch you out with his fingers. First,he will slowly rub your clit until your hole begins to flow like a waterfall, then he will slide his fingers between your folds, smearing your juices over them until they are sticky and shiny. Then he will circle the edge of your quivering rim several times until he inserts two fingers deep and calculatedly fucks you. He would definitely like to eat you from behind so that he can also knead and spank your ass while his tongue slides all over your cunt. He is going to leave red marks on your skin from his hands. He'll pay special attention to your clit, sucking on it and stimulating it with his tongue until you're squealing and writhing in his strong grip. 100% of the ttime, itwill leave bruises on your thighs. As this is more of a warm-up for Jongho before the actual sex, he won't be aiming to make you come on his tongue, but he will definitely keep you aroused and bring you to orgasm several times before pulling back. There is also a good chance that he will have slapped your pussy a couple of times, just to get more fluid out of your needy hole. He will definitely be sucking on your labia while he is fingering you. Like I said, he wants to cum in your cunt. I can definitely see him smearing his cum all over your folds after he has completely fucked your brains out.

[rogueddie]

Steve had been watching the kids play D&D with Robin. They were curled up on a beanbag together, almost painfully wrapped up together. It was so normal that no one batted an eye. And the two of them sitting in the corner to watch the kids play had also become routine enough that it was more unusual to find their corner empty.

Nothing about the afternoon, the day, or even the week, was in anyway odd or unusual. Steve had been feeling better, if anything. It showed too. Even Mike had pulled Dustin aside to ask what had him to much happier. But it was just the fact that everything was starting to look up- Max had taken a noticeable turn for the better, the cracks infection of Hawkins was increasingly slowing down and the amount of monsters had slowed down to the point that Steve didn’t even need to join the patrols.

All in all, Steve considered it a good month. What could possibly go wrong?

The room had started spinning so violently and so suddenly that he couldn’t hold in his confused, distressed noise. All heads in the room turned, just in time to see Steves eyes roll back, slumping back.

“Steve?!” Robin says, shaking him. She struggles to get up with most of him still wrapped around her, with how limp he’s suddenly gone. “Steve!”

Dustin is there in seconds, knees thudding to the floor next to them. “Steve! Oh, shit. Steve!”

“Has he just fainted?” Will asks, stepping forward with the others, hovering nearby. “Should we call an ambulance?”

“Check his pulse,” Mike suggests.

They’re all quiet, tense, watching Robins fingers shift on Steves neck.

“I can’t find it!” She sobs.

Dustin, who’d been checking his pulse via his wrist at the same time, yells, “no, I got it! It’s- shit, it’s faint.”

“Call for an ambulance,” Will tells Mike, already heading for the door. “I’m gonna get El!”

Dustin and Robin struggle, but eventually lift him enough for her to stand up. She insists he check for Steves pulse again, beginning to pace, pulling at her hair.

“Maybe it’s something to do with his head,” she continues to ramble. “I mean, he’s been hit a lot, that must have done some damage, right? And, like, I didn’t notice any lights flickering, but maybe he did and-”

“Robin!”

“Yes?”

“Not helping.”

“RIght. Sorry.” She’s quiet for a moment, continuing to pace, glancing towards the door. Mike can be heard talking on the phone. “But it’s gotta be something normal and easy to explain, right? It’s not like… it’s not like Vecna could have done this… right?”

But Dustin turns to her, slowly, frowning. “Maybe. It would explain why things might have suddenly gotten better. Vecna could still be weak, so a direct attack would take all his energy.”

They both turn, looking at Steve. But there’s nothing obviously wrong with him. He just looks… asleep.

“-in here!” Will is saying, rushing into the room, El hot on his heels.

El gently pushes Dustin aside, kneeling down beside Steve. She grabs his hand, quickly closing her eyes.

She stays there for a long time. Long enough that Mike comes back, warning them that the ambulance should be there any minute. Robin starts to pace again, whilst Will bites his nails. Dustin stays crouched beside El, staring at Steve like he’s tempted to try and jump inside his head alongside El.

“He is… not here.” She eventually says, opening her eyes.

“What does that mean?” Robin asks.

“He is not here,” El repeats. She looks as confused as everyone else. “His mind. It’s… not here.”

“You mean like… Max?” Will says.

“No…” El looks back to Steve. “Her mind is… empty. Hiding. He is gone.”

In the Upside Down, Steve wakes up.

His body doesn’t… feel right. He tries to stand up but, as soon as he tries, his legs wobble and he falls onto all fours… but…

Steve hesitates, looking down nervously. And, if the size of the world hadn’t given it away, the fluffy little paws he’s met with do. He tries to move his hands up, tries to tell himself that he’s just seeing things- but the paws move instead. The wrong feelings match up with the furry little body he’s in.

Panic bubbles up, so overwhelming that he gags. The noise he makes, though, only makes him panic more.

It takes him a long moment to realize that it’s him that’s yowling. It’s him making those sounds. It’s him… meowing.

“Woah, hey,” a soft voice coos. “How’d you get in here?”

Steve jumps around, hissing- but immediately stops. Because that’s…

“Eddie?” Steve tries to say. The meow he makes instead sounds curious.

Eddie smiles, awing at him. He crouches down, slowly extending a hand towards him. “Hi there, little guy. You got a mouth on you, huh? Heard you all the way from the trailer park. You must be pretty spooked. Did you fall in here?”

Steve stares at him, amused and annoyed. He huffs, sitting down, before pointedly tapping one of his paws on the floor. He still remembers the simple morse that Eddie had used to flash their SOS to Dustin… he’s pretty sure.

He barely gets two short taps done, before Eddie Is lifting him up. His hand curls under Steves belly, pulling him up to his chest. Steve yowls, annoyed- but Eddie shushes him. He glances behind him, which is when Steve realizes that he’s scared.

Then he hears the subtle sounds of movement. Something… stalking towards them.

Steve realizes, then, just how vulnerable he is like this. He’s tiny. He’s a fucking cat. If Eddie drops him, leaves him behind for whatever reason, he has no chance of survival.

“Woah, hey, hey,” Eddie whispers, startled, as Steve tries to worm his way inside Eddies jacket. He tugs it open though, curling an around around himself so Steve has some support. “That’s a good idea, you stay there, ok? Stay quiet, shh shh.”

Eddie is still, not moving or even breathing, for a long moment.

Eventually, he heaves a great sigh, gently prying Steve out from inside his jacket. He's careful to support him whilst holding him up for inspection, one hand around his chest and under his front... legs? But he has his other hand flat underneath him to sit on.

"You're so fluffy," Eddie mumbles, turning Steve around. "And clean. Where did you even come from?"

Steve grumbles, trying his hardest to glare.

It just makes Eddie laugh. "You're a fiesty little thing, aren't you?"

He pulls Steve closer, propping him up against his chest, starting to walk... deeper into the forest.

Steve tries to make his confusion clear, though he's not sure it works.

"It's ok, I have a little base set up at Harringtons place," Eddie explains, absentmindedly petting Steves head. "Not many vines there, so it's pretty safe."

Steve tries to wriggle around at the mention of his name, bringing a paw up to pat at Eddies chest, urgently.

"Hey, sh, it's ok," Eddie coos, stroking him from head to butt- Steve hates how much it does sooth him. "You're ok. I'll find you something to eat, ok? You're gonna be fine." Eddie glances down at him, humming. "I should name you, shouldn't I?"

Steve feels his ears droop. He's sure that Eddie will insist on giving him some D&D name, or some other nerd-

"Stevie," Eddie says, grinning at how quickly Steve perks up. "You're just like him, you know? Pretty, fluffy, soft... but also, a little bitchy."

Pretty?

"I shouldn't bore you with stories of old high school crushes though, should I, kitty?"

Steve meows, jumping up. He's too curious now.

Eddie laughs. "Alright, alright... but it's a long story! Don't say I didn't warn you. It starts in 83, he was a year below me..."

[wqnwoos]

it’s not like wonwoo to raise his voice, which is why, when you step into his living room, you’re almost baffled to see your best friend standing over a giggling soonyoung and seungkwan with a face of pure annoyance.

the moment you cross the threshold, however, he glances towards you and breaks off his sentence, smiling; soonyoung and seungkwan start giggling even harder; and you just stand there, sending a confused smile to wonwoo. “what’s going on?”

“wonwoo has a crush on — mmphh!” the rest of seungkwan’s sentence is stifled entirely by wonwoo stuffing a cushion in his face. which is also entirely unlike him, but you can’t really focus on that; not when your whole world tilted sideways at seungkwan’s words.

wonwoo has a crush.

which is fine. you’re one thousand percent a-okay with this new development. you feel fine! you feel great! you feel like crawling back home to bed and sobbing your heart out!

you’re not quite sure when Feelings, with a capital F, snuck up on you. somewhere between the time you guys talked on the fire escape of his building all through his birthday party and into the early morning, and the time he drove you outside the city to see the stars because you mentioned offhandedly you missed them.

or maybe during jeonghan’s new year’s party, where he drunkenly gave you a hershey’s kiss when you guys were stood on the balcony at 12am. or maybe when you first met, three years ago, on mingyu’s balcony. (there’s an ongoing theme here, now that you think about it.)

the root of it is — you’re halfway in love with your best friend. and it kind of feels like the world’s collapsing around you when it turns out he likes someone who isn’t you.

by the time you come back to your senses, soonyoung and seungkwan are already leaving, muttering obvious excuses (“gotta go water the cat, and y’know, feed the fish.”) that neither you nor wonwoo attempt to question. in fact, his eyes have been fixed on you since seungkwan opened his mouth.

there’s a heavy silence, when your two friends have gone, thickly blanketing the air between you two. it’s almost painful.

finally, wonwoo tilts his head ever so slightly to the side, giving you the smallest of smile. “balcony?”

and that’s where you end up, side-by-side, feet dangling between the bars as you press your cheek against the cool metal of them. it soothes your racing thoughts, helps you force back your tears.

there’s another silence. less weighty, more thoughtful.

you guess it must be the person from last week. he was supposed to go on a date last week; joshua is forever trying to set him up on dates, and wonwoo goes every few months. just to oblige him; they never work out, because wonwoo always comes home, tells joshua they were lovely, but he’s just not interested.

until now. now, he’s interested.

“i didn’t mean for you to find out like this,” wonwoo says, at last. the night outside is cold, and his words come out in puffs of misty air. “i’m sorry.”

“you don’t have to be sorry,” you say immediately. your voice sounds strange even to yourself; too bright, too false, too obviously hiding what you really want to say.

there’s another phase; awkward, this time, until you sigh, swallowing the bitter taste in your mouth. “i just — why would you react like that?”

“like what?”

“like that! just now! you didn’t want him to tell me — were you not planning to tell me?”

(am i so obvious? did you know what this would do to me?)

“i’ve wanted to,” he says slowly. “for a long time. i just — wasn’t sure how.”

this takes a moment to register with you. “a long time? didn’t you meet them a week ago?”

“what?” wonwoo sounds about as baffled as you feel. he looks at you for a long, long moment, dark hair ruffling in the night breeze, and sudden clarity dawns in his eyes. “you’re talking about the person joshua wanted to set me up with.”

“but — it’s not them? then who are you talking about?”

“i never went on that date,” he reveals. and all of a sudden, the corner of his lip is twitching, how it does when he’s amused and trying to hide it.

“so who do you,” you hesitate, swallowing again, “like? do i know them?”

there’s a smile threatening to break out on his face. you’ve never felt so out of sync with him. “i’d say you know them pretty well, actually.”

you sit there for a minute. trying not to think about how much this hurts, and instead trying to think of who this mysterious person could be.

“a hint,” wonwoo says, suddenly. his hand reaches up, thumb brushing against your cheekbone with a tenderness that has your heart stumbling. “they’re really fucking stupid.”

that’s all it takes for it to click. one second you’re frowning; the next, you’re wide-eyed and hot to the touch, whispering a soft, breathless - “really?”

there’s the laugh you love so much, escaping his throat as he speaks; “you didn’t hear seungkwan, inside?” when you shake your head, he continues, “he said — wonwoo has a crush on you.”

“oh. oh.” you gasp, suddenly so incredibly warm on the inside. you could boil over with it, this full, aching bliss. “i heard wonwoo has a crush. and that’s it.” you hesitate, lifting a hand up to meet his, slipping your fingers between his — your gazes meet. “is it really me?”

wonwoo kisses your knuckles, and it’s so much sweeter than any hershey’s kiss. “of course,” he says, and adds simply —“who else?”

an / ok so i just wrote a whole vernon thing and then posted it and then accidentally deleted it while trying to queue some srbs and i wanted to cry. but instead i wrote this. there was an anon who once said they hoped i’d write a wonwoo f2l one day and so best friend this is for YOU!!!!!

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[wheeboo]

01:10am | choi seungcheol

SYNOPSIS. in which your cuddly boyfriend interrupts your late night reading time. PAIRING. choi seungcheol x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. a lil suggestive, reader is smaller than cheol, lil makeout kissing sesh oops, terms of endearment, cheol is whipped, self-indulgent fr WORD COUNT. 1.1k

notes: i just have this thing for soft cuddly bed scenes w cheol :(

Seungcheol really doesn't know why that out of all other times of the day, you choose to read during the depths of the night.

But he's not at all complaining𑁋he's blessed with this grand view of you with your headphones on as you're sitting up against the frame of the bed behind, knees almost propped up to your chest, with a tiny, dim book light attached to the bridge of your book highlighting your face. Seungcheol thinks this might be one of his new favourite views of you.

He flips himself over to face your direction, opening an eye so he could quietly watch you. Seungcheol takes a moment to appreciate the cute, subtle details of your face when you're focused𑁋the way your eyelashes cast delicate shadows on your cheeks, the steady rise and fall of your chest, and the way your lips occasionally move, silently forming the words you're reading. The only sounds in the room he can hear are the rustling of you turning the page, the distant murmur of the city outside, and the faint music escaping from your headphones.

Letting out a yawn, he takes a moment to check the time on his phone, eyes widening to see how late it was. Yet when he turns back to you, he only pauses, because you seem too immersed in the book to be able to go to sleep right now, and he really doesn't want to disturb you.

"Baby?" he calls out to you softly, yet you don't hear him as expected, only furrowing up a brow at what Seungcheol could assume was you reading a peculiar scene in your book. He feels his shoulders deflate.

Instead, with a huffed breath, he can only take to sinking back within the bedsheets and hoping that you'd fall asleep after him.

But he can't fall asleep, no matter how much tossing and turning he does, since it's almost outrageous to his mind to the thought of him falling asleep without at least holding you in his arms like he always does.

Seungcheol turns himself over once more, a pout at his lips as he scoots closer towards you, yet you still don't seem to notice him. He contemplates for a moment, glancing down at your free hand at your side, and a thought crosses his mind. Slowly, he grabs your hand into his, intertwining your fingers together, and the action is just so natural and instinctive like a missing puzzle piece fitting perfectly into place.

He glances at you, noticing the slight smile that tugs at the corners of your lips as you continue reading. It isn't until he starts drawing circles on your palm and picking at your sleeve that finally grabs your attention, and you pick your head up to look at him, slipping your headphones off.

You watch the way he continues playing with your hand𑁋from drawing shapes on it, tracing the creases on your palm, to running a finger over your knuckles𑁋like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

"Cheol, what are you doing?" You ask bemusedly, attempting to pull your hand away but he just tugs it back.

"Hmm, missing you," he coos softly, adjusting your hands so that your flat palms are touching each other. The fact that the size of your hand is perfectly smaller than his is utterly adorable. "Your hand is small, you know?"

You roll your eyes, as if annoyed. "And yours is huge. We've been over this already."

"It's cute." He locks your fingers together again, tilting his head slightly to look at you. "You're cute."

You only click your tongue, biting back the smile to your face and the heat threatening up your neck as you bring your attention back to your book.

You release your hand from his. "Let me go read𑁋"

But before you can go back to reading, you feel a pair of arms wrap around and pull you into a tight embrace, knocking the book off your lap. A surprised gasp flies out of you, and in one swift motion, Seungcheol flips you both over so that he's now hovering over you. Your book is long forgotten on the floor as you stare up at him in surprise, the dim light casting a soft glow on both your faces.

Something catches in your throat as you lock eyes with him. If you listen closely, his breathing is just as unstable as your heartbeat, like he's breathless already. His dark gaze seems to hold a silent request, glancing between your eyes and your mouth. It bares a question that doesn't need words, and you answer with a small nod.

And with that, he leans down to press a kiss to your lips. It's soft, tender like always, and it doesn't take much for your body to go all limp below his as it deepens. He presses his weight against you carefully, making sure you're comfortable beneath him.

You feel the way he trails his fingers along your arm until he reaches your hand once again. With a deliberate move, he laces your fingers together before bringing your hand up to pin it gently against the pillow behind your head.

Seungcheol breaks the kiss, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.

"Okay?" he asks, voice a low murmur.

You nod, even though your heart is more than ready to burst out of your chest at any given moment. "Okay."

His eyes only soften, the smile to his face widening, a couple of shy giggles escaping your mouths together and into the thick air surrounding you both. He captures your lips once again in another sweet, lingering kiss, before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

"So pretty," Seungcheol whispers against your skin, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. He starts peppering feather-light kisses along your jawline, his hand gentle on your waist as he revels in the simple joy of holding you close. You lightly run your fingers through his hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingertips.

"Why are you being so... so touchy right now?" You tease impishly, sighing contentedly at his touch, feeling the soft vibrations of his laughter against your cheek.

"I dunno," he admits simply, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. "You were reading too much."

"I was only reading for, like, an hour. That's not that long."

"An hour too long," he counters sulkily, pressing a soft peck to the tip of your nose. "I can't fall asleep without you."

You let out a playful scoff, running your fingertips up the exposed skin of his back ridden up from the black hoodie he wore. "You're such a big baby, Cheol."

Seungcheol leans down so his mouth is just a breath away, and before you could register it, he's rolling over once again so that you're on top of him this time, his hands coming to rest firmly at your hips. There's a smirk to his face that you can hardly see, yet you already know what he's thinking.

"Only for you."

"For... me?"

"Just for you," he murmurs against your lips. "I'm all yours."

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