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kneelingshadowsalome · 10 months

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I Never Missed You 2/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)

Word count: 7.3 k

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)

Summary: You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.

A/N: A three part fic based on this request. Smutty smut ahead in this chapter. Brace yourselves for impact.

Part 1

You have to admit that you look dashing tonight.

And not because you want to turn people's heads at the party… But because you want him to look at you like you're the most forbidden snack he will never have.

It's selfish and petty, and you're just seeking attention. But at least you have the balls to admit it: you want Simon Riley to drool after you. You want this man on his knees. And nothing else has worked except that bra.

So you turn to the world's oldest weapon. A woman's weapon. Seduction.

"I'd suggest you keep a low profile until we're done."

He looks at you through the mirror while you finish your hair. Uses the word we instead of I. It makes your heart ache… And you take even that lecturing comment as a compliment. So he does think you look nice, or at least nice enough to stand out. You read into every look, every little tone of voice he gives you.

"I thought we were supposed to lure him in," you say while you neaten your necklace. Of course you look nice. You have done everything you can to look ravishing tonight: a deep-cut, thigh-revealing dress, cat eye makeup, red lipstick...

"Yeah but not like this."

"I'm not locking myself inside the house because of this," you announce pointedly. "I'm not afraid to live my life."

You turn and look him up and down, give him a little tilt of the head. "Don't you have anything else to wear?"

He doesn't shrink, doesn't bat an eyelash. Just looks down on you from that ivory tower of masculine prowess and makes you feel like a fool for being so dolled up.

"There's a difference between courage and foolhardiness," he states, not falling for your attempts to make him feel small in your world. You suspect there is so much more to this man, but you don't care to know about the circumstances he grew up in, the situations that gave him that broken nose and lip. You don't want to know about his broken soul.

Or perhaps you do...

"I suppose you know everything about that," you say while looking straight at the uneven scar on his jugular.

"I do."

"Tragic past?"

"You could say that."

You feel even more silly, standing before him in all your glory, pearls in your ears and silver around your neck. You pay this man for his services; he's supposed to protect you. But something in his eyes told you from the start that there lies an abyss inside this man. And you didn't pay for that: a peek inside his heart. But a door is open a creak now, and what's inside is pure darkness.

"Well, whatever it is, I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

Your cultured attempt to dance around his chasm makes those brown pools melt. Finally, he melts. But not to compassion, or mercy, or anything that would make you believe that you two understand each other.

He looks at you like you're a stranger from another planet. He's intrigued but doesn't quite understand how a creature like yourself has come to be. You're not only a child in his eyes but a coward as well for not daring to open that door to hell.

"What do you think," you hurry to change the subject. "Will I do tonight?"

He’s always so hyper-vigilant, his stare fixed on everything else but you. It feels childish, to be jealous of his attention when all he’s trying to do is protect you.

But now… Now that alert darkness bores straight into you.

"You look good in everything, ma'am."

A breeze of arctic wind goes through your scalp, and a fainting warmth settles in your belly.

You tiptoed your way to the fridge yesterday morning, before official breakfast, in your knickers and an old band merch from your youth - the one you still slept in sometimes because it was far more comfier than your silk pajamas. He walked in fully dressed and mighty while you were sneaking back upstairs with a glass of apple juice. The humiliation was overwhelming, especially when he dared to look you up and down in your state of underdress.

"Goodness… Sorry."

It should’ve been he who was supposed to say those words. But you felt like an intruder in your own house. It was a dangerous slip: to look so homely, with no brush stroke gone through your hair, with no toner on your skin. With no makeup and standing there before him in all your…you.

"No harm done."

He had never looked at you like that, and you swore right then and there that you would only descend those stairs with your full battledress from now on.

"Even in an old t-shirt…?" You ask with a tight voice. Desperate. Longing…

"Especially then."

Simon Riley strips you from your weapons and charades in a second. Your tight, seductive smile slowly falls off your face, and from behind it, a fragile, naked hope arises to gape at him. He clears his throat as if he just offered you an entire bowl full of ice cream when he was supposed to give you only a little scoop.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," he says, calm and adamant, like a statue you would go to see at a gallery.

"I'm afraid we should be going already."

"Takes 5 minutes."

You purse your lips, and he's on his way to the bathroom before you can even give him your nod. The guy is used to military showers, then, and perhaps it's for the better that he puts on at least some effort.

When he comes out, you're sitting in the hallway, and he's only wearing a towel. It's the one you gave him when he arrived, the softest you could find from your closets. You remember how the first odd thought you had upon seeing this man is that he probably isn't used to softness.

And now you see why.

You can see the prominent veins and the sketchy forearm ink, his muscles are magnificent to the point of unholy, he has a delicious, thin layer of fat on top of his belly, and the eyelashes aren't the only breath of hair that's pale on this man… But he looks like he has gone through an inferno.

His back is full of scars, and half of his shoulder looks like it has been dipped into a deep fryer. You catch a hollow dent between his ribs, and there's more, but he walks to his room before you see the rest of it.

The taxi drive to the party is filled with silence as you try to digest what you just saw. You want to call your lawyer and demand him to tell you where the hell did he find this man and who Simon Riley truly is. Who exactly does he work for when he's not taking bodyguard jobs?

But the first thing you do when you arrive at the large party held in a small palace is to go to the punch bowl and down a glassful in one go.

He's on your heels the whole night, eyes everyone with a hawk stare, and does his job perfectly. He grabs your arm occasionally and whispers in your ear if someone seems suspicious. After one and a half hours, he comes to you and practically demands that you two leave. Normally, you would start an argument, but not tonight.

You kind of want to go back home, too. The people at the party seem tedious, and his scars have reminded you that even if you live in a world where violence is not the norm, it doesn't mean that other worlds don't exist. Otherworlds - where people get shot, stabbed, and blown apart. Whipped and cut and deep-fried. You're in danger, and it took his suffering to see that.

You have been so stupid that you just about wish someone would slap you.

Simon has been so patient with you that you nearly apologize on the ride back home. You want to beg his forgiveness and confess you have been a spoiled little idiot.

But again, that's not an easy thing to do. You turn to look at your forbearing bodyguard, ever silent in the taxi, and turn your voice to silk.

"You really should smile more," you suggest. He doesn't answer, just looks out your window as if there were perils there too. You suddenly realize anyone could shoot through the glass or the door at any given time. With a proper caliber, a bullet could pierce that window and coat his black shirt with the insides of your skull.

No. No. I'm not ducking my head.

There's no one there.

"Have you ever tried?"

You turn to humor and flirt to drive those intrusive thoughts from your head. He doesn't yet know that you're afraid, that you have been afraid this whole time. You should have bought that armored car.

"Am I your most annoying client ever…?" There's a smile on your lips, a little pardon for being so infuriating. His eyes drop there, then lift back up to your eyes with surprising seriousness.

"You're my first client ever."

Well… This was news.

"Oh. Why did you accept this job?"

His stare sails away from you and back to the London night. You stifle the urge to grab his hand, a fistful of his shirt, to draw his attention back to you. Every time he's around, you feel safe; every time he looks at you, everything else ceases to exist.

You want him so badly you could cry.

"They don't teach you manners at the SAS…?"

"No. They teach us how to kill."

You scoff and turn to look through the window, too.

"Brute."

"You're entitled to your opinion, ma'am."

When you reach your house, he uses that term again. You're 110 % sure he's only trying to annoy you.

"Good night, ma'am."

"Stop it," you nearly slam your purse on the table in the hallway.

"What?"

"The ma'am thing…!"

You sound like a wife who's looking for an argument after putting on a charade all evening. When the door to your home closes, volcanoes erupt, and bombs drop, your husband-like bodyguard gets the blunt of your fear and frustration.

But how do you argue with someone who never argues back? He's calm like the Pacific during a stormless season, always, always gets calmer when you're going berserk. He walks to the armchair in your living room like he owns the whole goddamn place and sits down with a sigh.

And there is a smile playing on his lips.

"What should I call you then?"

You look at him, dumbstruck, on that chair, spreading his legs like there's no tomorrow, arms comfortably on the armrests, and mouth drawn into a genuine, peaceful, thoroughly naughty smile.

"Oh, now you're smiling," you huff. The unbelievable audacity of this man… "Some ideas on what to call me popped into your head?"

"Verily."

"Go on then."

"Nah. You should go to sleep."

"I'm not going until you tell me."

You cross your arms over your chest to underline that ruling. His smile only widens. He looks wickedly delicious in that seat with his legs spread, and the chair doesn't swallow him like it swallows you. Actually, his shoulders are wider than the back panel of this enormous chair.

"Well," he begins, "’princess' came up first."

You try to catch what he just said through the stupor of wanting to climb on that wide lap.

"Truly? How original."

"Or spoiled brat."

You stop breathing for a second, then reel straight toward a spiral of–

"How dare you?"

You notice his eyes dropping to your heaving breasts again. This man is so different from a dinner-offering, cunning man in a suit. He has no pretenses whatsoever. He looks at you with that little smile, eyes burning, legs drifting apart even more, probably his cock stirring from how you are trying to chastise him. If you had pearls around your neck, you would clutch them. Or throw them at him.

"You son of a–"

"Pretty."

His next choice renders you speechless; it cuts through your insult before it even flees your mouth. You gape at him, jaw open, breathing and cheeks burning, pussy throbbing - soaked so thoroughly now that you feel a tiny droplet cascade down your thigh.

"Yeah. That's better," the man says as if he's also blessed with a Superman stare, knowing you're seconds away from drenched. "Better than brat or princess, anyway."

The darkness conceals most of him as he settles inside that massive chair he dwarfs. You are falling, or at least that's what it feels like. A tumble, a slip inside his Styx. But there's no bottom, and the water is warm ink, despite the fact that he's so blanched.

"Pretty…?" You whisper into that water, breathe onto the surface of his depths. The darkness answers immediately.

"Very."

Your swallow is a wet, nervous roll inside your throat when you sink into that river of lust and smoke.

You take your jewels off first, because you know he doesn't care for them. Money's not his chief interest, even if he's being paid. And fat, at that. But he's not here for riches, he’s not here for the jewels – or that's what you desperately wish.

The necklace and pearls are gone soon, tucked away on the table with your trembling digits, and he's sitting there like a statue.

You have no trouble with this dress: the zipper seems to cascade down on its own as you reach behind your back. He's motionless as you slip out of the straps that keep the dark velvet up. You feel like you're the Styx: but the darkness of the river pools at your feet as you let go of the gown, let go of everything and continue your freefall.

He doesn't move, doesn't give evidence that he's even breathing; he just sits there like a long-forgotten king.

The panic snares you with a drool-wet throat: you salivate not because of him but because of your nerves.

Are you… harassing him?

Does he want this…?

At least he thinks you're pretty – and you could laugh out loud; your thoughts are vain and petty, even when you're baring yourself before him in more ways than just one. Your breaths are audible distress inside that darkness, and he's still: everything's still.

But he moves when you reach for your bra.

It's just a hand that soars through the darkness, an involuntary reach for support and gathering of composure as his fingers find his jaw. They swipe across imagined stubble before he leans his head on that hand, just an ounce's worth of weight placed on his thumb and pointer as if he's simply in his thoughts. But the hawk stare is fixed on the lace covering your breasts as it falls on the floor too.

You hear his breaths now. Quicker on the inhale, heavy on the exhale. Your thumbs slide under the hem of the last piece of your veil, something you got from the store when you were feeling down. Now the underwear makes you feel better than ever - who would’ve guessed it's the moment you slither it off? Slowly, too: you’re being a tease, hip bones giving a two-second dance for him as he continues to watch you strip before him like the queen of the night.

You breathe in sync now, and your nipples perk up – he hasn't even touched you yet and you're more aroused than ever with a man.

Not a word spoken, and you fear you’re being delusional – if you've just imagined the heat between you two, but then those legs flare a hair's breadth more. His voice is the softest whip as it crackles through the void.

"Yeah... You're pretty. Now what?"

You breathe in gusts now. It's exhilaration, damnation.

"Jesus Christ, Simon."

The chair gives a creak as he rises, like an ancient shadow. Intimidating – intense, always, always, and you've been trying to coat him with soft towels and feed him toast. You wonder if he prefers black tea simply because it tastes more bitter than coffee rounded with milk.

Does he want this? Silly softness and toast and–

You get all your answers as he bends just enough to match your height, just enough to sweep you off your feet. Your hands go around his neck on instinct as he lifts you up from your rich, opulent Styx and into his sea.

You're quiet all the way upstairs – he can't fuck you downstairs, then, has to intrude on your luxury and privacy. You don't mind, especially when the steps give a desperate wail under your combined weight. He lets it sing its music to the night: your ruining already makes so much noise.

He reaches for his gun right after he’s placed you on the mattress. The sound of it is heavy when he sets it on the nightstand that has only seen glasses of water and apple juice and perhaps a few books.

He undresses with soldierly sharpness, no seduction there. But he doesn't have to seduce you: his stare and heavy-cold demeanor have already done that.

He's so, so different from the others… Looks at you on the bed like you're both a piece of tender sirloin and something akin to garbage. That's an accurate depiction of a princess, perhaps. You know wasps gather around both honey and bloodied meat.

He looks at you like that because you know nothing. And he's not here to ruin you… he's here to insert himself inside you like you're a foe that needs to be infiltrated, plundered and burned until you understand.

He's big. Daunting. A brute while you’re the princess, could be the sleeping beauty, the way you stay immobile and try to take in this man's sheer power. You saw him half naked already when he came from the shower, but it's nothing compared to seeing all that taut, scarred flesh up close, soon about to fall upon you like a broken mountain.

And what's between his legs is wholly proportional to the rest of him. That thing is a menace, and it's not even fully erect - hanging thick between thick thighs, foreskin revealing a fat, sloping tip, and he's veined all over…

Finally, your mouth goes dry.

His gaze sweeps your beauty, and that cock gives a throb – a good, hard pull that stretches out into the open air, and your eyes go wide. Then he prowls, like the king of the jungle, moving with a fluidity that must be scary to those who meet their end by this big brute’s violence.

You are able to take in air only when his hand falls next to your head. The other claims you by the middle as if to soothe you - but the truth is you're caged in like a tiny, quivering animal.

The hand is heavy as it slopes across your stomach and scales your mound. It doesn't cup or probe, only rests there over your most sacred place, like an enemy surrounding a city. Your thighs part slowly, hoping he would just sweep right in.

"This wasn't in the deal," he rasps as he looks down at you: heavy iron judging a diamond.

"Oh shut up," you breathe, thoroughly thrilled and shy. If you weren't lying down, his intensity would buckle your knees.

"Nor do I take orders from you, ma'am."

"I'm not- Don't call me a-"

His eyes spark as the hand dips down like a deep diver into the blue. You gasp a stunned whiff when he's met with a mortifying amount of slickness. Your arousal sings a pretty song as he draws a finger over your slit, the moist sounds followed by another stuttering sigh.

"Look at you all wet," he remarks, and you grit your teeth.

“Shut…up…”

"You know why I accepted this job?"

He wrecks you with one thick finger, rough skin lathering you with your own juice like he's trying to make a point here. And he is making a point: it comes across perfectly. The princess is a filthy mess for brutes…

And of course he was given a file on you too. With more than just one photo.

"Yeah," he rasps when you only look back at him with your felled deer helplessness. You could swear that he just heard your thoughts. "I think you know."

"You're–ah– a brute," you whisper, eyes shining. Your thighs part even more, feel yourself leaking over his fingers that stroke you agonizingly slow. You swallow with hunger, the need pangs on your cheeks. Your whole body is throbbing for him.

“Sticks and stones, love.”

He's so infuriating that you could slap him. Claw him, rip him apart. But you nearly laugh instead… It's far better an option to let him claw and rip you apart. He's tearing you apart right now, with those eyes and his hand, exploring you like you're the first course and he's here for the whole dinner. How can he be so calm?

"Could you…" You start, then realize you've never begged for this man.

"Hm? Talk to me," he commands. "Whatever ya want."

You whimper – from bliss or relief, you can't tell. The frantic need to serve is fully fleshed out in his tone. It surprises you. You thought he was here for his own pleasure.

You try to think through the bliss of his fingers. You've had all kinds of things... All you could ever want, most would say. But that's not entirely true. No man has ever promised to please you however you want.

"Could you go…"

"Go down on you?" He places a thumb, broad and hard, on your clit. Teases it with the slightest pressure and a circle. "Lick your cunt?"

Fuck…

He has no trouble saying it as it is, and you nod, still helpless.

"Sure. 'N after that I'll fuck you nice and good."

He's never, ever sounded like that before. Dark, and rich, the baritone reaching a level that speaks of hunger – no, need.

A brute, a pussy-drunk brute, the blood in your veins sing as he goes down. Nothing can prepare you for the way with which he manhandles his way between your thighs like they're only a petty distraction in the way. They're forced wide apart with a tight grip that speaks of urgency, but he takes his time to admire the sight bared before him. He’s drinking you in like ambrosia, towering above you while you’re being held open for him to just observe you like you’re a center-spread girl in a filthy magazine.

"You're fucking pretty down here, did ya know that?"

You don't even know what to say - his tone, his observation is base, and still, they're the most beautiful words anyone has ever said to you.

"No…?"

"Well now ya know."

He steals a final glance at you, and the fire in his eyes already makes your legs feel weak. He dives between your parted legs, right into your leaking, glistening folds, and you're suddenly glad that you've done all that yoga… Those shoulders are so broad they force your thighs even further apart as he makes himself home there between your legs.

A hot mouth presses against you like this man has been starving, even if you've fed him the best delicacies for days. An even, fat stroke is the first thing you feel before your toes curl and your head falls back.

"Goodness, Simon..." You try to keep yourself from stuttering as his mouth opens you like a flower. You should be quiet, for once, and let him do the job. He seems like an expert, even and especially there between your legs. "Do you-ah, always shag your clients?"

"Told you you're my first," he rasps a husky sigh on your folds. He could ruin you with that voice alone.... He gives you another sweep of his tongue, full and ample, and your fingers curl around the sheets, your hips buck; your ass drives up on instinct, trying to both escape his mouth and rub your pussy against those thin but eager lips.

"Don't worry," he tells your pussy with a warm chuckle. "This is free of charge."

You sigh, the first laugh of many up into the air. You're supposed to get angry, but you can't. You can't.

"Have… no words for you."

"Good. It's about time you stopped talking, love."

He grabs your hips to punctuate it that you should indeed shut up. Fingers sink into your flesh like you're a whole goddamn feast - no more fucking toast and teasing. His hands look so huge as they dig into your skin - so different from the hands of men who work in offices or wait for people to serve them. You upvoted those hands to be the best part of this man long ago.

And that bulk of muscle… Some of those men in suits might go to the gym, but they couldn't forge a body like his in a million years: that breathtaking mass built to work and endure harsh conditions. It's not a flex or a sculptured piece of art: it's simply survival - ancient and primal.

He's got darkness, and you got diamonds, but something tells you his depths are infinitely more valuable. You couldn't buy his intensity even if they sold it in the streets. The skull mask was self-made, everything in this man is self-made, and he's sampling what diamonds taste like, and you wonder… Does he think you're cheap, some fake piece of worthless junk? Does he laugh at how easy you are? That under your manners, you're only a spoiled brat and a promiscuous maneater…? Or that he couldn't care less, as long as he can push his cock inside you?

He gives you his best, that's for sure. A working man, with you as his assigned mission, and the feeling of being a spoiled little princess only increases. And how are you supposed to stay still if he's slow and attentive like that? You might be his first client, but you're not his first shag…

His lips seal tightly around your nub, suck it, lap it, sigh on it - he's already breathless from the need to make you moan and cum. A purpose-driven, ravenous man, and when he dips his tongue inside your cunt, your mind finally goes blessedly blank. Your legs shake and stretch, and you can’t prevent your hand from skimming down to grab his hair when he gives you deep, unhurried plunges with his tongue, huffing against you from the mad want to make you feel good.

You would never have guessed that Simon Riley would get such pleasure from licking a woman.

One hand disappears from around your thigh, and you guess it's one of his fingers that arrives, wide and thick, to tease your entrance. You can feel the smile on your folds as he slips it in, making you nearly jolt on the sheets. Your fingers instantly curl to tug that pale hair, to grab hold of something, and it makes him rumble inside you.

He doesn’t even wait for you to catch your breath as he adds another finger. Goes shallow at first, then pushes those fingers in to the knuckle. The feeling of being filled - and not being filled enough - is going to drive you crazy any second now.

"Simon…"

"Yeah?"

“I want you to… want you to…" you hear yourself choking on your beg as he works those fingers in and out of you while his lips are tight around your clit. He knows exactly what you're trying to ask.

And suddenly, it's he who breaks…

"Right. 'M gonna fuck you now, yeah?"

The spread is gone, and you're being moved - on your belly, and you briefly think whether it's because he can't bear to look into your eyes when he takes you. You don’t even have time to whimper from the loss of his fingers and mouth before heavy thighs force your legs aside. You’re being spread again, crudely, obscenely, like it’s just a procedure that has to be done. He’s both methodical and impatient, and you wonder - has he wanted to rail you like this ever since he saw you? Force you to lie down on your belly while he takes you from behind like a helpless damsel?

His hands come to your hips as if to make sure that you won’t run away from under him. As if you ever wanted to…

Something far fatter forces its way between your folds and straight onto your opening. He glides over your folds a few times, spreads your wetness all over his tip. Methodical still, but it makes you moan and swallow.

"Jesus…"

The lathering stops, the jutting cock settles right where your depths lie, and he chuckles. "Not quite, love."

Fuck…

Fuck this man's cheek and audacity. Fuck his size and pride, the way he knows what he's doing all the fucking time.

“Desperate for it?”

That stupidly fat cock just resides there, teasing your aching, leaking hole without going in. But it’s like he answers his own question because you feel the thick of him give a notch against your folds. So impatient. Thoroughly needy. It sends you further down the whirpool of desire, a searing white, fathomless deep..

“Yes..”

When he goes in with a leaden grunt, your muscles go into a spasm - he's too big, he hasn't prepared you right, and still, you force yourself to relax.

"Not what you expected?"

"It's… too much," you admit. He stops, realizing that for once in his life, he might've been an impatient man. Then he crawls forward, and you feel like you're about to be buried under a boulder as his weight bears down on you. Hands sink into the mattress on both sides of you, forcing you further up against him - you're floating, almost, to where you belong.

"Yeah? C'mon… You can take it."

You shudder. It's not even fully in yet?

He speaks too softly for it to be a demand, even when he's hovering on the brink of wanting to simply ram himself into your cunt. It's an encouragement. He’s cheering you on, like a coach. Or a leader... It’s leadership.

When you don't object, he starts to feed more of himself in. You try to remember how to breathe because you were wrong, you were so, so wrong - it was barely just the tip, and now you're stretched wide and tight. He's endless, and sinking in deeper, deeper….

And you want it so much - all of him- you want to grip him and never let go. One hand comes to sweep over your hip again, it caresses the swell of your ass, and you know he's looking down at how well you can take him after all.

"How are we doin'?"

Your lips are swollen, and your brows are creased tight. It's still not in…?

You’re fucked. Literally. But you can take him... You must.

You whimper when he slows down almost to a halt.

"Love. Tell me to stop 'n I'll stop."

"Just–gently," you whisper, brittle and shivering from joy.

"Don't worry. I got you."

Slowly, he arrives to the end of him and you. Hips flesh against yours, he’s out of breath before he even starts the thrusts. His length caresses places unfathomable in this position, and his weight is crushing you, even when he's supporting himself. It only feels like the safest place to be. Trapped there between your safe, soft bed and his safe, hard body.

The first thrust punches the air out of your lungs. It doesn’t hurt, and it’s not uncomfortable; it’s just too much to take. You’ve never been so filled.

"Fuck…" He swears, somewhere between the third or fourth thrust. "You're…"

"Good…?" You offer him when he doesn't continue. You know he was possibly going to say tight or something crude like that and corrected himself before it spilled. He merely grunts as an answer - a barbarian through and through, you decree. And then the brute speaks…

"The best."

God. You feel like a diamond after all, but you've never been under so much pressure, fearing you might break.

"You-too…" It's a sad little mewl. You sound like a child trying to make friends. Latching a hook on him, no matter how tiny it is. One shake, one ripple from the behemoth, and it will fall loose.

"Don't go lying with that pretty little mouth," he warns.

"I'm not lying."

"Yeah…? Keep squeezing me like that and perhaps I'll believe you."

It's a strange feeling, to meet your mistrust and jealousy on him. He has no pretenses, but he has secrets, camouflage, and flash grenades that blind you from the truth. But even he can't hide it all when he's moving inside you, so close, so terribly close.

You melt into a pool of heat and want, trying to meet him midway by offering your cunt, arching your spine, driving yourself up to give him better access. What was possibly meant as a desperate fuck turns into a sweet, weightless rocking, a rhythm of him and you. The hands on your hip start to gain weight as he holds you still for him, at times even pulls you against his cock.

"C'mon… wanna hear you," he huffs, then slides one hand to your butt and gives it a fond squeeze when you won't instantly make noise. "You're always givin' me that cheek and now you're silent?"

It's a warm question, a thick baritone that settles into your stomach, then shoots downwards and makes you clench.

"Wh-what do you want me to say?"

"Want you to sing."

Of course the man who never talks won't shut up in bed. But he's not bullying you into submission, nor is he being mean. If anything, he sounds like he's finally on his knees.

And you don't want to be mean either. Not anymore. But you just can't help yourself from having a little fun now that he's finally desperate and inside you.

"Make me," you whisper, delivering your cheek with a wicked little smile.

The response is immediate: he dares to land a flat palm on your ass. Like you're a broodmare, a sirloin steak for him to feast on. And it does the job: you almost shriek, or at least that's how it sounds like when a parched little whine pushes through your vocal chords with violence.

"That's better," he barks, pleased with his work.

"You're horrible," you gasp. You're glad he put you face down on a pillow: you can only hope he doesn't see how happy you are in the darkness of his night.

"Yeah? And you're sweet."

It's said with gravel wrapped in silk. It hits you and ignites, starts a flame inside you without permission.

You want him in ways you shouldn't. You want… more breakfasts, him carrying you up the stairs, taking in the way you tip-toe around the house in an old t-shirt. You want to serve him back rubs and tea and see who he is when he's not being paid. You don't want a lap dog or a guard dog, you simply want...

Simon.

"I'm– I'm sorry that I've been such a bitch," you whisper. He sinks back on top of you until his nose nuzzles the back of your ear. He leans on his elbows, trying not to break you into too many little pieces, but the feeling of being confined couldn't be more blissful.

"Cock's that good?" He drags the following thrust, sparking your nerves aflame as he hits your core. But it's not brutal; if it is, it's the sweetest wrecking you could ever have imagined.

"Don't make me take my words back," your lips pull to a smile and a silent, inner laugh.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

He's smiling too. Inwardly, perhaps, but you can hear the mirth. His weight on top of you while you're lying under him on your belly, unable to move, unable to do anything other than take the full brunt of his cock as it spreads you open, is pure heaven.

"Want you to cum when I'm inside you," he rasps in your ear, lips brushing the underside of your jaw. "Think you can do that, princess?"

Being told to cum on command is a bit ridiculous, you think. But not when it comes from that Cockney mouth. Not when he asks so nicely. Your cunt pulls, claws at him.

"... I'll show you princess," you sigh, but it's only a second away from laughter. His fingers dig into your skin, the flush flesh of your ass. It feels possessive… Fond.

"Yeah. Show me. C'mon."

The camouflage gets slightly torn off by a wind of a smile. You can hear it on his lips. Sex should be fun, one of your friends always says. You had never thought about it like that. Bed is not the place for laughter and humor, you had thought. But now you are both on the brink of bursting with it.

"You're a fucking pretty one…" He grunts: a breathless, silent joy. "Know you want this as much as I do. Ain't that right?"

"Yes."

"That's what I thought. So cum for me. Wanna hear the sounds you make."

You dance on the precipice already, and his voice causes your hand to shoot out to his. You drag that heated palm across your hips and your ribs, curl it next to you as if you were drawing a blanket over youself. It's a lover's caress, and his fingers slip between yours as he wraps around you like the protector that he is.

Your walls flutter, the thickness inside you makes you swell with every thrust. His hips are relentless as he buries himself into you with blunt force, his flesh clapping against yours and making your cunt clamp down on him. Sweet, sweet, sweet, your blood sings as your lids drift closed. The wave is coming, the final tsunami that will sweep you with it, and you will only succumb with joy.

"Don't-stop," you hear yourself beg through the heavy pants he's grunting on your neck.

"'M not gonna stop," he grunts into your ear, serious now.

"Fuh–Fuck me good and… hard," you're hiccuping through dry tears. It feels like there's a hammer and an anvil placed between your ribs. "I need you hard-"

"Shit…"

You barely grasp that he's about to lose his precious control before the midnight sea takes you under. The world fades into a tight know of blue and white and black, electric, ambient, something soft and hot at the same time. You're choking on your tears, moaning into the pillow like a poor, broken, tortured cat.

"That's fucking pretty," he swears on your neck as you cum. All humor is gone now, but he's not mocking you. He's just… emotional. The bulk of him rides you through the wave, but the rhythm of his hips becomes erratic.

"That's it, pretty… I'm gonna…Fuck," he huffs on your skin, a mist of want, and the cockhead rubs something profound inside you and makes you jolt in the middle of your molten euphoria. He grunts, swears, and does it again - bludgeons so deep it forces out a sob, just before he breaks too with a choked, wet swallow and a groan. A trembling colossus, you think, as he thickens and bursts inside you.

You're an aching mess when he comes, his thighs pressing over yours and forcing them far and wide as he buries himself into you to the hilt. He's a behemoth, spasming and crumbling right above you. The broad abs bunch against your back while his hips pin you down and spread you open. The cock pulses inside you, and you are barely able to think how it's a miracle that both his thick flesh and the pool of cum, all of it, just somehow fits there inside you…

A gentle brute until the end, he swallows again, thick and breathless, before giving a few tight rolls of his hips, emptying himself to the last drop. Slowly, you both still inside your bubble of warm, dark blue, something akin to a sea between a tropical storm and a calm sunrise, a drowsy reef shifting with the waves.

He's broken into a light sweat from the toil when he finally untangles your fingers. Your hips are kept in place with one hand as he slowly pulls out. You feel like you're left emptier than before, even if you feel the cum welling up inside, about to spill over.

Your bodyguard - your late-night fuck - collapses beside you, then reaches to pull you close again. Still back against his chest, still unable to look into your eyes when you're both vulnerable.

"I'm gonna get you a towel," his fingers tremble as he caresses your arm with the most delicate touch.

"No–don't, don't go," you whisper, then grab his hand and bring it back over you. You almost squeeze yourself with it. "Please?"

The tension behind your back decreases as he slowly falls back into bed.

"Alright love. I'll stay right here."

It's so peculiar how he reminds you of large water masses. A night sea under a pale moonlight. Not a stormy, roiling one, just a vast depth in an ever-swelling motion.

"I want… I need you to keep me safe," you whisper inside that swelling sea. You never want to come to the surface. You want to learn to breathe underwater. The heavy arm is draped over you; it covers nearly half of your chest as he sighs.

"Then let me do that."

His plea is not humble - nothing in this man is. He's not on one knee, swearing his allegiance and vowing to always protect you. He's not your Lancelot.

But in a way, his plea comes far too close to a beg. You feel a sting near your heart. It's electric, pure pain - the sweet kind, though, as you realize he doesn't only want to do his job… He wants to protect you. He has already tried his best to protect you while you run around like nothing is wrong.

"Simon… I'm sorry."

"I already forgave you," he hums on your skin, evidently glad that you two finally understand each other. It should send you laughing, the thought that you needed his scars and his…treatment to find common ground. And free of charge, no less.

"Do you still wish you were somewhere warmer…?"

He bows his head against the nape of your neck, and the gush of air from his nose is warm and jovial. "No."

It's hours till dawn, but you wish it would never come. The beauty of the night is only now unfolding before you. It feels far more safe than the violent dawn. You wonder how he would react if you moaned his name as you cum. If he would shudder. You wonder what the hell is wrong with you that you didn't already do it...

"Simon…?"

"Mm..?"

"What happens now?"

There's a pause, but he doesn't shift for more comfort. Still, the bullet vests and battle gears are back on; you just sense it.

"We're gonna get some sleep."

"No, I meant… What does this mean for us?"

"What do you think it means?"

Now he shifts, but only to draw you closer. You feel like jello as he pulls your scent deep into his lungs, then exhales the grace on your skin like you're the only tobacco he needs after a good round of sex.

"Don't worry about it, princess," he murmurs on your skin. So delicately that you could claim this man has never even seen the army, never barked and shouted and smoked his throat dry. "We'll talk in the morning."

You settle into his sea, an embrace full of gentle, heavy safety. It's the sweetest oblivion to slip in as you begin a dreamless sleep, soft and snug. But it's not merciful enough to make you forget that you two…

You never even kissed.

............................................

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fluffymiyaa · 11 months

Text

"𝐇𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐞𝐠𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐥𝐤. 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮"

: ̗̀➛ Your morning with bllk boys

Genre: fluff

Characters: shidou, sae, nagi, kenyu x reader

Warning: none

Masterlist part 2

❛ SHIDOU ༉‧₊˚

He softly grunts, pouting and furrowed his eyebrow. He standing there with his hair down, white singlet and shorts. He just woke up and you're not by his side already killin' his mood in the morning. But once he saw you tying your apron while heating the stove, his eyes immediately light up.

"Baby.." he whined and hugged you from behind, pressing some kisses on you neck.

You raise your hand and stroke his hair which is still down and haven't used any hair gel yet.

"Morning, ryusei" you said in low voice and smiling lazily.

Listening to your voice in the morning is so soft and relaxing, like a lullaby of sorts. Hearing it makes him want to sleep back again because it's so soothing.

"What do you making?" He asked still embraces you from behind.

"I was..about to make pancakes. Is that okay?"

He sigh.

"Baby.." he called and turned your body around. You're face to face with him now.

"Im in the mood for indomie"

His words make you surprised and shake your head in dissapointment.

"Ryusei, you're an athlete. We can't have a breakfast with instant noodle. You need more energy and carbohydrates"

"Noodles are carbohydrates too" he defends.

"Ryusei"

"But i don't have any practice today! So today it's lazy day. Please?" He begged giving you wide eyes.

You groaned.

"Fine, but with vagetables and corned"

He grinned and kissed your lips.

"Yes, ma'am"

❛ SAE ༉‧₊˚

"Darling, im pretty sure this mine."

"No, sae this is mine."

"Y/n, im the one who put it in the corner, this is mine" sae said in tired.

It's 7 in the morning and you both agruing about a moisturizer. Sae claimed it was his and you also claimed it was yours. Your morning routines always start by doing the skincare routines together. Sae doesn't really care about it back then, but ever since he dated you started to take interest on it.

"Then if it's yours, where is mine?!"

"Oh, i dont know! Maybe in you purse or something?!"

You grumble and took your purse, put your hand in and search it randomly without see it.

"Theres no way- oh it's here."

Sae looked at you annoyingly and raised one eyebrow.

"Well?"

"Oops, sorry, baby. Dont be mad?" You grinned at him making him rolling his eyes.

"You're so lucky" he said sarcastictly

❛ NAGI ༉‧₊˚

You woke up feeling heavy on your body, turns out it's your boyfriend sleeping peacefully on your chest, you gently kissed his forehead, can't believe of how peaceful he was. Softly push the hair out of his face. He looks so cute and angelic by the sun through your window shared apartment. You feel his warm breath and feel relaxed, he doesn't move much, his head just lays on your chest while you feel his arms wrapped around you, snoring lightly.

"Sei.." you whisper gently try to wake him up and poking his cheek. He opens his eyes and stares at you half sleep.

He hummed at you and go back resting his head on you again closing his eyes.

"Baby, c'mon wake up. You're so heavy.." you shake his body.

"Mmm... 5 more minutes..."

You suddenly have an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

"W-wait seriously, nagi wake up. I have to go to bathroom now" you try push him off your chest, but he just comes back and goes back to sleep.

It took some minute until he said.

"Wait. I need to go to bathroom too" he said it plainly and got up from your body and walk towards the bathroom.

"What?! No no no! I'll go in first, Seishiro!" You go after him. But it's too late, with his long legs he got in first. You groaned and keep knocking the door.

"Sei!! Hurry up!!"

On the other side he was daydreaming and sometimes closes his eyes again but jerks when 'it' starts to come out.

"Seiii don't sleep!!" you whined behind the door

"Almost done!"

❛ KENYU ༉‧₊˚

You are awakened by a sudden jump from an uneven road and the sound was loud enough to make you flinch, you rubbed your eyes slowly and looked out the window. Shows the dry and scorching street scenery out there. You then turned to your boyfriend, you were on a roadtrip to your destination, you could see his tired face who had driven all night.

Kenyu turn his head to look at you. You looked like a mess, you had bed hair, dark circles under your eyes, and yet you still looked cute.

He smiles and say "Mornin' sleepyhead, I hope you slept well 'cuz I've been driving all night."

"Morning kenyu..gh my back hurts..hey are you ok you? look tired, baby" you said and softly stroke his cheek.

The touch of your hand makes a tingle run through his body, and he subconsciously lean into your hand.

Kenyu didn't say anything for a while, but in the end, say "I'm fine", my voice is small, and his cheeks are slightly flushed. He glance at you.

"Where are we..? Are we still far?"

He glance at the map right beside him, "Mhmmm, we should be there in about, 5 hours? 4 hours and a half, maybe?"

"Why? tired?" He look at you out of his peripheral vision, his eyebrows furrowed a slight bit.

"I think you're the one who look tired than me, kenyu. Lets pull over in a couple miles, we can buy some breads and coffee." You said

He sighed. "Alright then."

He gently press on the brakes and pull over on the rest area. Then, kill the engine. "Okay, you go get the stuff, I'll stay here. And be careful not to lock yourself out, kay?"

You got out from the car and make your way to minimarket. You quickly buy everything you need and go back to the car. You can see kenyu lay back in the driver's seat with his eyes closed. You knocking the window.

"You're back, already?" He asked and open the door for you.

"I bought everything we need to eat. Switch with me, i'll drive"

"Oh? Okay.."

He was hesitant at first but still get off the car and trades seat with you. You take the wheel and began to start the car.

"Hey, can you please feed me while im driving?"

He smile. “Of course, no problem.”

He feeds you a croissant that you had bought. “Here. You want some coffee too?” he asked as he hand you the cardboard cup with coffee inside of it.

"Thank you, you eat some too, kenyu"

He nodded and starting to eat. After finish the quick breakfast, you continue your drive in silent.

"Kenyu..why dont you get some sleep. I'll be fine i promise"

"Alright alright. Thanks, love.."

He chuckle softly and smiled at you adorely. He pushed back the passenger seat, then lay down and relaxed his body, slowly closing his eyes.

You smile back at him and gave him a kiss on his forehead.

"Sleep well, baby"

Is the favoritsm too obvious?

Reblogs are more appreciated, thanks for the notes<3

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mizutenshii · 7 months

Text

KISS MY BLOODIED LIPS.

— pairing ; kaneki ken x human!gn!reader

— summary ; you never expected to kiss one of the hated humanoid monsters, yet here you were. or: first kiss with him.

— cw ; don't worry he doesn't actually have blood on his lips, fluff, awkward first kiss, slight making out? est. relationship

only god knew why and how you ended up in a dark alley behind anteiku, but you were there and something was about to happen. you weren't dense, you could feel it in the way kaneki was looking at you – or rather, the way his gaze had dropped down to your lips more than once already. a gesture you reciprocated eagerly, until at some point you were just awkwardly staring at each other's lips.

you didn't know how to go from there, as you never kissed someone before. you weren't one to put much thought into what your first kiss would be like, but you always assumed it would be with a human. yet here you were, cornered by the ghoul you grew to adore.

no, kaneki didn't verbally tell you he wanted to kiss you, but you weren't oblivious; there was only one possible outcome to the position you were currently in, and you were afloat on the tight atmosphere. you couldn't wait, although you were incredibly nervous just as much.

"i-is this okay?" the half-ghoul asked, bringing up his hand to cup your cheek. kaneki gazed at you full of worry, as if one wrong move would break the spell and scare you away.

"mhm," you hummed, tilting your head to lean into his light touch a little more. you offered him an awkward smile, not knowing what else to say.

"i never did this before," kaneki confessed. "i guess i'm afraid of messing up, afraid of losing control, i don't know, i just–"

"only one way to find out, right?" you shrugged, trying to come off calm and collected. but your voice was a little shaky and uneven, giving away how nerves got a tight grip on you.

the boy with hair as pale as the moon visibly gulped, but something in his gaze hardened resolutely. it was as if he made up his mind, bringing up his other hand to cup your face completely and tilting your head to his favor. all physical distance was slowly being eliminated, the heavy anticipation palpable in the air between you. kaneki moved closer to you, barely daring to breathe as his eyes fluttered closed. you shuddered when his lips ghosted over yours, a fleeting touch that made both your breath hitch in your throat.

but the ghoul hesitated, froze in his movements, even drew back a little as his eyes opened anxiously. he was nervous, and it wasn't hard to figure out what was on his mind. after all, behind his soft lips rested the teeth of a deadly predator, and right now the hunter brought its teeth close to its prey.

"we can wait if it doesn't feel okay yet," you reassured him as fear rose in his grey eyes. "we don't have to do it right now, there's no rush."

"no, i want this," kaneki sputtered, a slight frown falling upon his features. "i'm just afraid of hurting you, one way or another."

"i trust you," you solemnly told him.

"you shouldn't," the ghoul shook his head.

"but i do," you countered. "kiss me, ken."

kaneki sighed, muttering something under his breath before he finally gave in. the final distance that separated you was eliminated as his lips met yours – tentative, brief, lingering for but a second before he pulled back. he watched you, and as you showed no signs of dismay he dove right back in. this time he kissed you with more fervor, more courage, his lips moving against yours in a somewhat uncoordinated rhythm.

but god, you were enjoying it. your hands found his sweater, fingers clawing at the soft fabric to pull him even closer to you. he was being careful, he was holding back, you could feel it. but you weren't going to ask for more – not now. you were beyond happy with what he was giving you already.

when he pulled back, he was panting lightly – and so were you. kaneki looked at you, grey eyes full of adoration. you couldn't help but break into a full smile, looping your arms around his neck and hugging him close. the half-ghoul was quick to reciprocate the gesture, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head as he held you lovingly.

"see? i can trust you," you giggled lightly, resting your cheek against his shoulder as you clung to him.

"just not too much, okay?" kaneki muttered, his breath rustling your hair. "i'm a monster, and as much as i love you, you'll never know when i mess up."

it was a peculiar love story the two of you had. humans were supposed to despise ghouls, their only enemy. and yet you fought through the natural boundaries, getting too infatuated with one of the hated humanoids and erasing the line that naturally stood between the hunter and their prey.

but it was okay. maybe kaneki didn't trust himself, but you did. and you knew you wouldn't regret it, ever. after all, love was stronger than his hunger, right?

mizutenshii — O3.1O.2O23 — masterlist

help i never write kiss scenes this was a struggle and i hope it's not a pain to read ><

#nana writes #tokyo ghoul #anime #kaneki ken #ken kaneki #kaneki #tg #tokyo ghoul kaneki #tokyo ghoul x reader #tokyo ghoul fanfiction #kaneki x reader #ken kaneki x reader #kaneki ken x reader

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chosok-amo · 5 months

Text

ASLEEP AMONG THE STARS, CHAPTER 01 — SATORU'S DESTINY AS A BAD COOK

Satoru takes care of you while your brother is in class and nobody's around and tries to cook for you only it turns out to be miserable and has suguru to fix his food.

fluff, gojo x reader

“It's a long story,” you tell him.

The white-haired boy rolled his eyes annoyed before he let out a sigh of frustration. “You conned me into thinking you were dead for eleven months, I have time,” he tells you— having no wanting to back down his curiosity. This time it's your turn to roll your eyes in annoyance. You turn your head to your right side, looking at your brother's best friend.

Right now you're laying on your bed, your arm spread out on your bed with your feet dangling at the end of your bed while Gojo Satoru— your brother's best friend lay on his stomach on your right side with both of his elbows to sustain his weight, both of his palm rest under his chin. His long ass legs bent up— making himself look like that Lolita girl.

“But I don't, I'm hungry,” you said to him.

Your parents were out of town while your brother had classes, leaving you with Gojo Satoru to take care of you— more like you take care of him. Satoru always invited himself into your house. “It's my second home,” he said to you once. Since he and your brother were best friends for as long as you can remember, maybe since they're both kids. That made you also grow up with him. He is everywhere— your family vacation, your Christmas, your Thanksgiving, your birthday, every single time. Your parents even give him a gift every Christmas, every year.

Satoru clucked in annoyance as he rolled his body to get up. His slander body stands straight beside your bed as he looks down to stare at you and stuffed his hands into his pants. “Come on, I'll cook you the best meal you've ever had, better than Suguru. And after that you have to tell me everything,” he humors you.

You laugh, “You? better cooker than Suguru? You should stop saying bullshit, Satoru.” He gasped dramatically hearing your mockery— looking as offended as someone saying mean things about his height. His large hand squeezed the fabric of his shirt where his heart was located. “Take that back y/n, I'm telling you,” he grumbles. His ocean-blue eyes narrow as he stares at you. “I haven't shown you my talent yet, I'm good at everything I do,” he tells you, suddenly looking so proud like he just won a medal for being a freak as he is.

“I'm not gonna let you burn my kitchen, Satoru, at least not when I'm hungry as fuck,” you rolled your eyes to him. “Come on, I'll cook something for you. Your brother is gonna punch me in the face if he knows I let you eat fast food, so I have to cook for you,” He pulled your hand softly making you get up from your bed. With that, both of you get out of your bedroom and go downstairs to the kitchen.

“Be a good girl and sit there and let Chef Gojo show you his cooking skills,” he smirked at you, which only made you giggle and sit at the bar, across from him. Satoru wears an apron with a hello kitty printed. His white hair sticking out of his head, and today he doesn't wear the round sunglasses he usually wears. He is wearing a sky blue sweater with a plain white t-shirt and a short with the same colour as his sweater— looking all boyfriendable and fluffy and cute together.

You stare at him as he cuts the carrot into an uneven shape, some too big, some too small. His hands look awkward and rigid— showing that he's never cooked in his life. He threw you a glance from time to time, looking all nervous and frustrated. But you choose to stay silent, secretly enjoying his suffering. You don't know this, but Satoru is trying so hard to impress you.

He knows how much you love homemade food and he's been trying to learn how to cook from Suguru, learn what food you like the most and what food you despise the most. One month of learning how to cook and he's nowhere near good. It's even magical if his food doesn't come out as poison and too sweet with how much of a sweet tooth he has. It's not on purpose, he just thinks it's not sweet enough to be delicious.

“Eat one food you made and you can make someone's family tree have diabetes,” Suguru once told him when he taught him how to cook.

“That's not how you do—”

“Shh, princess! I know what I do, you need to trust the process,” Satoru cut you off before you finished your sentence. He gives you a sweet smile to assure you that he knows what he is doing. You look at him as you raise your one eyebrow and sit back. You're not sure what Satoru is going to make but you try to give him the benefit of the doubt and just watch him do his thing.

But Satoru himself doesn't trust the process, he has no fucking idea what he was doing. He doesn't know what to do next, he has no idea what seasoning he should use and how much. All the things Suguru taught him went down the drain and suddenly he felt like the stupidest person in the world. Oh just how much he wishes for Suguru to come home and save him from any embarrassment in front of you— the girl he's having a crush on.

For a while Satoru struggled to maintain his acting, to pretend he knew what he was doing until the front door opened and Suguru came to the kitchen. A sigh of relief he hoped you didn't notice left his mouth, but you do but you choose not to say anything and just smile to yourself. “I smell something burning, what is it?” Suguru asked as he came to the kitchen and stood beside you. He kisses your head and asks, “How do you feel?” softly.

“I'm perfectly fine and starving, but Satoru takes good care of me,” you said, which is a lie but again Suguru knows better. He just smiles knowingly while shooting his best friend a look and raises his eyebrows. “He did?” He asked unbelievable which made Satoru roll his eyes. Suguru takes steps closer to his best friend only to find himself dumbfounded when he takes a look at what Satoru cooks.

He looks at the white-haired boy, facepalm while the other one just smiles sheepishly and scratches his nape. Suguru let out a sigh and eyed his sister, “Can you wait for a moment, sis? Something needs to be fixed,” he tells you in his sweet honey voice. “Sure,” you assure him. He gives you a bowl of blueberries for you to eat while waiting for him. “Go sit next to her,” Suguru pushed his best friend to get out and sit next to you. The boy can only grumble and grumpily sit himself next to you.

“You see? that's my destiny as a bad cook,” he tells you, pouting his lips. You giggle and feed him a blueberry. His eyes light up in an instant and asks you to feed him some more, this time with Nutella. “Stop being such a baby,” Suguru mocked. “Oh fuck you, I'm doing just fine until you come and pretend to be a hero to save the day,” Satoru contended.

“Yeah? Do you do just fine? You can't even cut the carrot properly, Satoru. Look at this one, it's the size of my fist, what do you think we are? A gorilla?” Suguru remarked that only you respond with laughter as he shows Satoru a carrot that is indeed the size of his fist. Satoru mimicked Suguru's words while rolling his eyes. “Well sorry, I'm not Gordon Ramsay—”

“Indeed, you are a wild animal,” Suguru teased him.

You snorted after hearing what your brother said and held your hands to your mouth, preventing you from laughing. Satoru snapped his neck to look at you and groaned in annoyance. “Don't mind him, it's good that you're trying to cook for me, I appreciate it, I'll teach you next time,” you assured him and rubbed his hand softly and smiled at him warmly.

After the three of you had your dinner, Suguru went to his room to take a shower while you and Satoru washed the dishes. He stood beside you as he scrubbed the plate while you dried it after he finished. You notice Satoru peering at you from time to time. You look to your left— to look at him for a second and smile. “What is it?” you asked him.

He shook his head and gave you his cheeky smile, “Nothing,” he tells you. “It's not nothing if you can't stop throwing me a glance with those eyes of yours,” you tell him, still smiling. “I just miss you, haven't seen you in a year,” he told you. This time his attention is fully focused on you and his hands stop moving. His blue eyes looked at you deeply. “You did?” You ask him, a little bit surprised with his outburst.

“So much, I feel like I can't breathe, miss you so much it's physically hurt me not being able to see you,” he tells you, nearly whispered. His eyes look into your eyes with something you never know, something you feel unfamiliar with. Both of you are lost in each other's eyes. You can't seem to get a word out of your mouth, feel too starstruck you can feel your heart beating faster than normal.

And suddenly water splashes on your face. A gasp leaves your lips as you feel wet on your face and your clothes. Satoru laughs at you as he holds his stomach, pointing his finger at you. “You son of a—” You do the same to Satoru without he anticipated it. The water made his hair and face wet. And with that, both of you declared a war on who's gonna get wet the most.

“Y/n?” Suguru calls you which puts a stop to your war. He looked at you with protectiveness. “It's getting late—” he trails off as he steps closer to you. “You can get sick, you should be careful, y/n.” He put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer. “Come on, you should rest so you don't get tired tomorrow,” he said to you softly. His hands go up and down to your arms, trying to keep your slightly cold body warm. You look over your shoulder to Satoru. He smiles at you and waves his hand at you. You return the smile and let Suguru guide you to your room.

masterlist

chapter 01 — Satoru's destiny as a bad cook

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#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #satoru gojo smut #nanami smut #toji smut #geto smut #sukuna smut #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo fanfic #geto x reader

119 notes · View notes

dulltoned · 4 months

Text

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Branch spends the next few days trying his best to enjoy what time he has left. He stomps down the bitter sting every time his brothers get together to talk about the future and tries to bask in the little moments they allow him. Branch makes breakfast for Bruce and tries to wriggle a recipe out of him that he can cherish during the gray days. He spends an evening with Clay talking about novels and getting as many recommendations as he can so he can know what kind of books his brother likes. He even lets John Dory pick at a few of his projects so they can bond over their shared handiness born from their survivalist pasts. Branch has never gotten to know much about his brothers, he was so young when they left he can barely remember any of the little details, so he clings to everything now. Clay's ears flick when he's irritated over something insignificant, like a bent page in his book or the uneven amount of pencils at Branch's workspace. John Dory sleeps with that stupid glove on, and he cleans off his goggles every night because the routine helps him relax. Floyd hums rock songs in the shower even though he doesn't like the lyrics because he loves the melody. Bruce isn't a huge fan of seafood after so many years serving it back in his restaurant on Vacay Island but he loves Country Troll cuisine.

Branch gathers every little detail he can and he tucks it away because he knows that soon enough these few fleeting memories will be all that he has left to hold on to. Soon enough they'll be on their way and he'll be alone with only their ghosts to haunt him. He thought that he was finally done grieving. He thought that maybe he was finally ready to let go of the family that didn't want him. Now he can already feel their absence like a gaping wound even though they're still here sitting in the next room over.

Today is the day. Branch takes a fortifying breath and brushes nonexistent dust off his vest before slipping out of the kitchen to go gather up his brothers from the living space around the corner. He plasters a smile on his face as he steps through the entryway, leaning up against the arching entrance like nothing could possibly be wrong. John Dory has Clay tucked under his arm and is violently ruffling the younger troll's bright green hair. Bruce is cackling, nearly doubled over, and even Floyd is hiding a few loose chuckles behind his paw. Clay's hair admittedly doesn't look any different than it did before but that doesn't stop him from spewing protests.

"Are you guys done yet or should I give you some more time?" Branch teases, raising an unimpressed eyebrow that's betrayed by the amused smile spreading across his face.

John pauses his assault to look over at Branch and his grip seems to have loosened just enough for Clay to make his hasty escape. "I guess we can cut this short," John Dory shrugs, smirking while Clay grumbles and Bruce wipes tears from his eyes. John looks proud, smug in a way that Branch thinks only an oldest brother could be. His heart aches wondering if this is the last time he'll see that expression and he struggles to keep his smile in place.

"I'm sure the balloon is already set up so we better get this over with." Branch pushes off the entryway and tucks his hands deep into his trouser pockets in a hopefully subtle attempt to hide how they've started to shake. Bruce's laugh is still ringing in his ears and he can't help but ask himself if he'll be able to remember it so distinctly a year from now. He swallows thickly, eyes flicking from sibling to sibling and drinking in the easy smiles on their faces. They look so happy right now, joking and laughing and roughhousing like brothers are supposed to. Branch feels so out of place. Do they even care that they're leaving him behind all over again? Have they even noticed that they're ripping his heart to bits and stealing away the tattered pieces so he could never hope to be whole again without them? Do they think he's being childish because he's so heartbroken over something inevitable?

"I guess you're right," John Dory agrees, stretching out and popping his back. John throws Branch an easy smile and motions for the rest of their brothers to gather up so they can head out. Clay rolls his eyes and helps Floyd up from the armchair while Bruce stands from the couch. This is it. This is really it. Branch's heart flutters pathetically beneath his ribs and dread thrums through his veins. He wasn't ready to say goodbye. Not again. This wasn't enough time. He wanted more time. "Lead the way, little brother."

Branch is helpless to do anything else but swallow down the vile, bubbling emotions climbing up his throat and walk them out of the bunker towards the clearing Poppy arranged for their departure.

The pit in Branch's stomach only grows with each step and he listens with mounting irritation as his brothers chatter excitedly behind him. They're all excited to get back to their lives and Branch wishes he could begrudge them that. He wants so badly to be angry but he can't. They deserve to go back to their lives, their homes, their families. He doesn't want them to be miserable, he just wishes that he could be part of their happiness. He's well acquainted with loving others more than he's loved but the hurt never quite fades.

"Hey, Branch, you're quiet up there." Bruce calls and Branch looks over his shoulder curiously. Bruce smiles back teasingly, his eyes shining with bright mirth that Branch doesn't think the situation warrants, "Got something on your mind?"

"Or someone," Floyd joins in with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows that makes Clay cough a poorly concealed laugh.

Branch frowns, eyebrows furrowing, "What?"

"Poppy's going to be there, right?" Bruce asks like it's obvious and the pieces slot into place. They thought he was distracted because Poppy was going to be there to see them off?

"Oh. Not really," Branch shrugs. He turns back around when he sees their expressions shift, smiles dropping while they share confused glances. Branch figured it would be obvious why he was so quiet but maybe that was a bit presumptuous of him. He's been eagerly spending as much time with them as he could these past few weeks despite how obvious they were about their plans to exclude him. He guesses his silence now could be seen as a little odd, all things considered.

They don't say anything else for the rest of the trip. At least not to Branch. He hears them muttering but he doesn't try to listen in or even turn his head to look back again. He does his best to keep his eyes straight ahead and tune them out. Before he knows it he can see the large burgundy body of the hot air balloon growing steadily larger in the distance and the dread burrowed in his gut spikes. This is it.

John Dory lets out an impressed whistle, "It's bigger than I expected," he admits but he sounds excited about it. It hadn't even occurred to Branch that his brothers wouldn't really be familiar with traditional Pop Troll transportation anymore. Branch offers a noncommittal hum and scans the area around the balloon's basket for a splash of pink. He spots her quickly and some of the hurt in his chest dissipates. He can breathe a little easier knowing that she's here.

It's only a few moments before Poppy notices them, Viva a bundle of energy at her side. Pink eyes find them from across the clearing and a smile breaks out across Poppy's face like the sun after a rainstorm. She bounces on the balls of her feet and waves excitedly, calling a loud hello instead of waiting the thirty seconds it would take for them to reach her. Branch can't help but chuckle, shaking his fondly with a roll of his eyes while John and Bruce yell back their own greetings. Viva rushes over at top speed, twirling around Clay before falling into step beside him like it was second nature. She's rambling excitedly about something that Branch doesn't have the energy to try and follow but Clay is smiling brightly and nodding along.

"Hey," Poppy greets him softly, sliding up to him and gently grasping the front of his vest so she could pull him in for a swift kiss. Her eyes scan over his face and a frown tugs at her lips, "Are you okay?" She whispers, ducking in close for some semblance of privacy.

Branch tries to offer a reassuring smile but it feels bittersweet and tired, "As good as I can be," he sighs, lifting a hand to rest it softly over hers, "Better with you here." He confesses and bumps their foreheads together. She smiles, though the worried furrow between her brows remains. Branch wants nothing more than to smooth out the creases, chase away the concern she's wasting on him, but he knows that there's nothing he can do to convince her that he's fine. She wouldn't believe him even if there was.

She presses another quick kiss to his cheek before pulling away to properly greet his brothers, sharing a few warm hellos, "So, is everyone all set?" She looks between them, hands on her hips, like she expects them to have luggage despite the fact that they arrived empty-handed. She doesn't wait for a response before she turns on her heel and gestures to the small grassy hill next to the balloon that would give them easy access, "You guys should have plenty of room and there's a bunch of blankets if it gets cold, I also packed a lot of snacks just in case you got hungry. Oh! And there are some games--" "Okay, okay, sounds great Poppyseed," John interrupts, eyes wide when he realizes that Poppy had no intention of stopping her ramblings. He raises his hands in an attempt to slow her down, "What about a manual?" He presses curiously, the shock bleeding away to a fond amusement that made Branch's heart pang.

"Here," Branch reaches up into his hair and pulls out the pilot's manual. He refused to give it back after Poppy'd thrown it out just a few months ago. It's been haunting him these past few days but he hadn't dared to forget it on the way out of the bunker. He steps forward and passes the thick volume to John Dory, trying not to look at his brother's grateful smile, "It's pretty extensive but you only really need to read the first and the fifth chapter for a quick trip." He clears his throat awkwardly, trying to keep up a lighthearted attitude

"I'll take that," Clay reaches over and plucks the book from John Dory's hands with ease, grinning as he completely ignores John's protests. Viva giggles by Clay's side and even leans in to get a better look at the manual while Clay flips through it to see the table of contents. Branch watches the two self-proclaimed Putt Putt Trolls and hopes that maybe Clay will come along when Viva inevitably decides to visit. Branch has come to really enjoy having another level-headed, fact-oriented troll around and one brother would be better than none. If he's lucky, which he can admit isn't likely, maybe Clay will even keep him updated on their other siblings.

"So this thing is all ready to go?" Bruce looks up at the large balloon, admiring the structure with muted curiosity. He doesn't look too interested but rather intrigued by something unfamiliar.

"Yep!" Poppy chirps, bouncing over to stand back and look with Bruce despite being well-acquainted with Pop Troll travel methods. She's already flown out to visit each of the other Kingdoms at least once since the end of the Rockapocalypse. "All the prep work was finished last night so all you need to do now is climb aboard." She explains with a curt nod, clearly proud of herself and her work.

"Well!" John Dory claps his hands together drawing everyone's attention back to him, "Sounds like that's that then, let's get this show on the road, huh?"

"We shouldn't drag this out any longer," Floyd agrees with a sad smile and a small nod. John moves first, stepping forward to ruffle Branch's hair before walking over to climb up the incline. He vaults over the lip of the basket easily and quickly begins looking around. Floyd follows after him, shuffling forward with a clear exhaustion weighing down his limbs. He walks right past Branch without even glancing back, hiking up the hill and accepting John Dory's help into the basket with whispered thanks. Branch swallows convulsively, trying to push down the lump growing in his throat. Did Floyd not even want to say goodbye?

A hand lands lightly on his shoulder and Branch turns around only to be wrapped up in Bruce's arms. Instinctively Branch hugs back, squeezing tightly and nuzzling into Bruce's comforting hold. Bruce's arms envelop him in a warm, secure embrace and Branch mourns the fact that he'll likely never get to feel safe in his brother's arms again. "It was really nice seeing you again," Bruce murmurs into Branch's hair with a soft sniffle.

Branch's own eyes burn but he forces out a small laugh, "Yeah, you too, man." He doesn't think he'll ever forget the joy he felt when Bruce first told them that he was a father. He was terrified and elated at the idea of being an uncle. Bruce pulls back and wipes his eyes, a bright and happy smile on his face before he, too, leaves. It's getting harder and harder for Branch to keep his expression neutral and he finds himself desperately wishing for Clay and Viva to make their leave before he starts to break again.

Clay, thankfully, steps in and pulls Branch into a side hug with the manual tucked neatly under his other arm. Viva detaches to go say her own farewells to Poppy and Branch is pitifully grateful for the modicum of privacy. Clay presses their temples together with a lop-sided grin, "Take care of yourself, okay?" He extracts himself quickly but also reaches out to ruffle Branch's hair like John Dory had and Branch doesn't even try to push him away.

"Yeah, you too." Branch tries to smile back but his world is starting to feel dark and desaturated again. He wonders if Poppy would notice. She insists that she can see his hues shift with his mood even when Branch himself couldn't tell. He wonders if she can see the color draining out of him the way it feels like it should be. Watching Clay turn away and stride confidently over to the balloon stirs something deep and anguished in Branch's chest and he stomps down the urge to reach out and ask them to come back. It was too familiar watching them leave and being powerless to make them stay.

Viva and Poppy wrap up their own muted conversation and share a tight hug before Viva rushes off after Clay. They climb into the basket together, talking excitedly about something or another, and it makes Branch's stomach churn seeing them all so content while his world crashes down around him again. He realizes with sudden and startling clarity that he has to say goodbye. He can't let them leave this time without saying something.

He scrambles forward before Poppy can make her way back to his side and looks up into the basket with wild eyes. Floyd spots him first and his merry expression drops immediately but Branch speaks before Floyd gets a chance to question him. "I know it probably doesn't mean much," Branch starts hesitantly and has to take a calming breath when his brothers' attention shifts unwaveringly to him. "But I'm going to miss you guys." John shares a confused look with Bruce and Clay while Floyd's frown only becomes more pronounced. Floyd moves back towards the edge of the basket with a shake of his head.

"What do you mean? Of course it means something," Floyd assures softly, leaning over the rim to better meet Branch's eyes. Floyd's scanning him over and it makes Branch feel exposed.

Branch tries to laugh it off, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "I guess I wanted to make sure that you knew this time." He cringes the second the words leave his mouth, "That came out wrong--" He immediately tries to backtrack before he ruins any chance he has at ever seeing any of his brothers ever again.

"Back up," John Dory cuts in, appearing at Floyd's side, "Why is this starting to sound like goodbye?"

Branch freezes, dumbfounded, and blinks up at them. His anxiety is drowned out quickly by his confusion, "..isn't it?" He asks only to be met with two startled faces. Branch cranes his neck to look at Bruce and Clay so he can see if they're as confused as he is but they look just as upset as John and Floyd do.

"Hey, Viv, maybe we should give them a second." Poppy chimes in from somewhere behind him and he watches distractedly as Viva climbs back out of the balloon and walks off somewhere with her sister. He's sure he'll be grateful to Poppy for this later but right now he's just trying to get his thoughts sorted. Why were they so shocked? Did his brothers really think that he was that oblivious? He wasn't blind, it was easy to see that they were keeping him away from their important conversations.

John Dory hops over the rim of the basket and lands neatly in front of Branch, "Why in the world would this be goodbye?" He asks urgently. There's something desperate in his eyes that Branch can't quite discern but he doesn't understand why they're the ones making such a fuss about this. He was the one who had a right to be upset but he was trying to let them go.

Branch tilts his head and scoffs, sparing a glance at the hill where Bruce is carefully helping Floyd back out of the balloon before turning his attention back to John, "Aren't you guys leaving?" He raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms to keep himself from fidgeting with the hem of his vest. John Dory gestures to him frantically, making an exaggerated noise of disbelief before turning to the others like they could possibly help him.

"Yeah, for now," Clay looks at Branch like he's grown a second head and it was really starting to piss him off. What right did they have to be so flabbergasted? They were the ones who made plans to ditch him, not the other way around. This wasn't his plan.

"Where in the world did you get the idea that we weren't coming back?" Bruce adds on, asking the question that was apparently on all of their minds as he lowers himself down from the edge of the hill to drop down beside John.

"It's not like you've been subtle," Branch snarls, taking a sick pleasure in how his brothers jump away from the sudden tone shift. Good. If they wanted to play dumb they deserve to face the consequences. "You've been here for almost two weeks and every time I happen to walk into the room the conversation dies. A few days ago you were talking about just how much room Vacay Island and the Golf Course have for everyone without even a single mention of Pop Village. Are you kidding me! Why the hell would I think you were staying?" Recognition is blooming across Floyd's face and he can see the realization dawning for Clay like it was happening in slow motion. The green-haired troll's eyes widen just a fraction and his mouth drops open into a soft oh and it'd be funny if it wasn't because Branch had known all along that they were planning to abandon him again. He was so tired of being thrown away like he was nothing and they had the audacity to think he was too stupid to catch on? Maybe Poppy was right and he should just cut his losses and accept that they didn't want him in their lives. He was better off without them anyway.

"You got it all wrong!" John reaches out and places his gloved hand firmly on Branch's shoulder but Branch jerks back with a growl. There wasn't any guilt on their faces but instead a soft, bitter understanding that was starting to make Branch feel cornered. He was getting real sick of being left out of the loop.

"Branch, please, just let us explain," Floyd implores. Branch huffs, glaring, but some of the tension falls away at his brother's plea. Floyd looks at him with desperate lilac eyes that are starting to fill with rising guilt and Branch loathes to see his kind-hearted sibling so hurt. He doesn't want to cave, he wants them to deal with how they've hurt him and feel the weight of their actions, but it's Floyd who's asking and that's enough to break his resolve. Branch waves a hand with a sharp exhale, silently urging them to continue before he changes his mind.

His brothers sag with visible relief and John Dory quickly scrambles to take the reigns once more. "We thought you were uncomfortable," he tries to explain and his face his twisted apologetically with such genuine regret that Branch wants to believe him. "Whenever we started talking about our plans for after we went home you'd start to get all fidgety or you'd just kind of…"

"Leave," Bruce finishes off. John Dory's eyes flick back to Bruce before nodding.

"We thought that you didn't want to talk about it, which feels really stupid in hindsight." Clay admits with a disappointed sigh. Like he's realizing he should have known better but he'd been so caught up in the moment that it hadn't even occurred to him.

Branch can only stare at them in disbelief, waiting for one of them to laugh and tell him this was some sort of stupid joke. "Are you serious?" He seethes, paws closing into tight fists that shake at his sides. "The first few days you guys only talked about how eager you were to go home," Branch had been a bit flighty at first and, in the beginning, his heart would jump into his throat every time they started talking about how excited they were to go back to their lives. He was scared. Scared to lose them, scared that despite everything they just went through for each other it still wasn't enough to hold them together, and he didn't want to ruin their happiness with his own catastrophizing. "You laughed in my face when you thought I wanted us to be in each other's lives and you think I'm jumping to conclusions thinking that this is the last time I'm going to see you?"

Floyd looks horrified. Branch realizes that there's a decent chance that Floyd didn't know about that part. "Branch, I'm moving to Pop Village." Floyd says in lieu of any empty comforts he could've offered. What's done is done, they couldn't take it back.

"What?" Branch breathes, hesitant joy bubbling up and peeking through the anger still burning bright in his stomach.

Floyd smiles and it's bright and contagious, drawing similar expressions from their brothers, "I wanted it to be a surprise but after everything I really don't want to go back to Mount Rageous. I still need to talk the details over with Poppy but I wanted to move here to be closer to other trolls again. To be closer to you." Floyd looks like he wants to close the distance between them and Branch is glad that he doesn't. There's a tentative trust being built but Branch is still wired from the roller coaster this conversation has become and he's sure that one wrong move will send him tumbling.

"I'm coming back with him to pick up Rhonda but I plan to stop by often now that I know where this place is," John Dory gestures back the way they came towards Pop Village. It's plausible, it's all plausible, but Branch is still hesitant to believe them. He doesn't know what he'd do if all these reassurances were empty and meaningless.

Bruce steps forward slowly, raising his hands in surrender when Branch takes a hasty step back. His face is soft and open when he speaks, "I'm sorry we weren't really thinking, Branch. And we never should have implied that we didn't want to be a family again. We were frustrated and angry and tensions were high but adding everything up it's not too hard to see how you came to these conclusions," Branch wonders if this is what a dad voice is. He never met his father and he never really had the kind of friends that would introduce him to their parents. He imagines that this is what Bruce sounds like when he soothes his kids and tells them that everything is going to be alright and that makes something small and broken buried under his ribs yearn. "We want you to visit too, B. I want you to come to Vacay Island and meet your nephews and niece." "And I'd love to show you around the Golf Course!" Clay chimes in brightly, eyes shining with unshed tears that contrast with the fond smile on his face.

"Have you seen your bunker? You'd be amazing at camping." John Dory agrees warmly.

"We just got you back," Floyd murmurs but it's loud in their close proximity. "I don't think any of us want to say goodbye."

Branch feels the last of his protective anger drain out of him and sucks in a shaky breath. He smiles, uncertain and thin, but it seems to be enough to reassure his brothers. "Okay."

"We're really sorry, Branch," Clay insists, blinking away the wetness in his eyes and staring over at his youngest brother with blatant worry, "We really just weren't thinking, man. We never wanted to exclude you or make you feel like this was it."

"It's okay, really, I have a bad habit of overthinking this kind of thing," Branch sniffs, trying to be casual despite how his heart was still racing. He was already upset that he'd accidentally made a big deal out of nothing but it was admittedly nice to be reassured so sincerely. It soothed his frayed nerves in a way that was strange but welcome.

"It's not," Floyd disagrees quickly and Branch startles, "It's not, not really, but we'll have time to make up for it, okay?" And isn't that everything that Branch ever wanted? He'd wanted more time and miraculously they're giving it to him. Maybe this isn't the end, maybe it wasn't time for goodbyes after all. His heart starts to calm and a fragile hope begins to bloom where the anxiety was nestled under his sternum.

"Yeah," Branch nods, his smile shifting into something lighter, "I'd like that."

John reaches forward and snags Branch by the wrist, tugging him forward before Branch could even think to ask what was going on. John Dory's arms wrap around him in a bone-crushing hug, "I'll be back, got it?" He says firmly into Branch's hair. Branch nods into John Dory's shoulder, arms raised with shocked uncertainty. He gives in after a few beats and hugs his brother back as tightly as he can.

Branch lets the hug linger, grasping tightly to the leather of John Dory's vest until the contact starts to make his skin itch. He detaches himself stiffly, shaking out his arms with an awkward chuckle, "You guys really should get going, though. You're burning daylight." It still hurts to see them go but it feels different than it had before.

"That's probably for the best, huh?" Floyd agrees, reaching out a hand to Clay in a silent request for help that the older troll quickly jumps to oblige.

Branch uses the time it takes his brothers to hoist themselves back into the basket to compose himself. These past few weeks have been incredibly jarring and he thinks that he's seen enough of his emotions for the next few months but… it's also been surprisingly rewarding. He turns to scan the treeline hoping to spot a flash of pink but he doesn't even have to go looking before Poppy and Viva pop into view already making their way back over. They had to of been watching from a distance but Branch is confident that Poppy would have dragged them far enough away that they couldn't have overhead anything so he's not worried.

Viva bounds back over to the balloon and practically tackles Clay in her dash over to him. They immediately start talking quietly and this time Branch can admire their dynamic without any clouds of resentment hanging over him.

"You got this thing figured out?" Branch asks. "Totally. No need to worry," Clay assures, raising the manual and wiggling it for emphasis. Branch is glad that there's someone on that thing who'll actually read the instructions.

"I'll see you around, then, I guess." Branch smiles.

"Soon," Bruce promises.

With that they cut the ropes holding the balloon down and start the ascent into the open air. Branch and Poppy wave with vastly different levels of energy and their siblings wave back. There's no pit in Branch's stomach as he watches them get further and further away and no crushing sorrow when they say their goodbyes. It's not goodbye this time, not really, it's see you later. That makes him feel lighter than he has in days.

"You're looking blue," Poppy admires at his side, slotting her paw into his like it's meant to be there. You're looking happy, she means.

"I am." He admits quietly and is surprised to find that he means it.

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midnighmoonligh · 3 months

Text

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Fandom

Call of Duty / Ghost's

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Characters

Y/N ; AMAB ; He/Him ; little

Keegan Russ ; He/Him ; Caregiver/Neutral

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⚠Content warnings ⚠

Military topics, mention of blood/injuries/pain, anti-agere, and cursing.

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Plot Summary

Keegan doesn't like you. You don't know what age regression is. You both end up bonding over it.

You, a new recruit to the ghost's, the task force Keegan also found himself on, yourself in trouble. It was to the point it was infuriating for him, as your superior. You were a private rank with an awful temper who never followed orders. You were always doing your own things, causing problems for other people. He tended to be one of those people.

Keegan couldn't stand you.

After a long mission that didn't go well for anyone, Keegan found himself wandering the bases hall's at night. The stress of the events left him restless, not that he usually could sleep. As he walked, heard thuds coming from the indoor gym. Curiously, though dumbly, he made his way towards it.

Opening the doors, he found you punching away at a punching bag. Surprise washed over his features. It was one am. He knew how much you valued sleep as well, so you had been the last person he expected to be awake still.

You we're panting as you slammed one of your fists into the punching bag again. You've been at it for hours now, most people were asleep too. Your hands were poorly wrapped, knuckles spilling blood that dotted the bandages. It didn't really stop you. As long as your hands weren't broken, you'd take some bleeding. You raised your fists again despite how much your lungs burned and slammed your fist into the bag as hard as you could manage still, again.

Keegan approached quietly, he wanted to surprise you in some way. He saw a sight he wasn't at all expecting. He wasn't sure to make of it, still trying to decide that fact as he approacbed you.

He walked around you, getting a good view of you before speaking, " What are you doing here this late? Shouldn't you be sleeping? "

You jumped a bit as Keegan spoke. It was startled you more than you'd cared to admit. You raked a hand through your hair. Most the strands stayed back from sweat when you pulled it out.

" Shouldn't you? " you shot back in a snarky tone.

" Touché, but your the one throwing hands at the punching bag at one in the morning. Something more then a lack of sleep is the cause if this, so you're not allowed to use that argument as a gotcha, " he responded, " Now, why are you here? I gave everyone the day off after that mission. You should be in bed. "

You grunted and rolled your eyes. Slowly you raised your fists again and giving another weak punch to the bag. You were exhausted, body spent, but your mind kept pushing. It wouldn't shut up, no matter how many times you hit the bag.

" What am I? A toddler? " you grumbled before punching the bag again.

" If you're acting like one, then yes. I'm your superior officer. You need your sleep. Now, why are you here? " Keegan reiterated. He was beginning to lose his patience at your stubbornness.

" Is it a crime now to burn off steam? " you huffed out at him.

You stopped, at least for now. Your attention was better turned towards Keegan. Although your breathing remained uneven, practically gasping.

" No, but you look like you've been at it for a long time now. Your hands are bleeding, that can't be healthy for anyone. Stop acting stubborn and take a break, " he scolded, " If you keep at it, you'll be a liability for us tomorrow. "

At the mention of your hands, you looked down to them while lifting them enough to see them. You blinked, clearly not realizing you had made them bleed, let alone as much as they were.

" I'm off tomorrow, " you decided to say instead while letting your hands fall back to your sides.

" I know you're off tomorrow, but if your in this condition, you're a danger to yourself. Take a break from the stupid bag, " he scolded, he was clearly getting tired of you.

" Just sit your bum down and listen. You're pushing yourself far too much. You'll only make yourself worse if you keep going. Take a break. " He was much more stern then usual, as if seeing you like this really got him angry.

You huffed at Keegan childishly. If your entire body didn't ache, you would've crossed your arms and pout.

" Why do you care what I choose to do with my free time anyways? "

"Because you're still a soldier of the Ghost's. We can't afford to lose you. I can't afford to lose you..." he muttered, looking like a concerned father instead of a demanding superior.

" Take a break. We need you fit and healthy, you can't do that if your hands are all bloody and you're this exhausted, " his tone was much more calm then usual, he was trying not to sound like he was scolding a child. " Just please, take a break. "

You stared at him like he was an alien. Frankly, you thought he was when the word please came out of Keegan of all people. It didn't help that you were well aware his distain for you. Hearing him actually care bothered you. You took deep breaths to try and control your breathing, but it wasn't getting you anywhere.

" I need to be stronger, " you confessed.

Keegan sighed, clearly not able to put two and two together at this current moment. He came over and pulled the punching bag still with some force, " you're only going to get weaker if you keep going. I'm sure you've heard of overworking yourself. This is what overworking yourself looks like. "

He then kneeled down in front of you, " Why do you need to be stronger?" He asked in a much softer tone, trying not to be condescending as he spoke. It felt as if he were trying to talk to a child.

He tensed as he kneeled down to him. It annoyed him how he treated him like a kid. It didn't help he wasn't much shorter than Keegan.

" I couldn't do anything to help, " you breathed out, taking a few deep breaths before finishing your thoughts. Your thoughts made you feel like crying. " If I was stronger the mission would've went better. "

Keegan remained quiet as you spoke, his heart breaking a little. He was silent for a long moment, as if thinking of a response to that.

" And if you overwork yourself like this for another mission, you won't be able to help again, " pointed out.

" Besides, it wasn't your fault. The success or failure of a mission isn't placed on the individual. It's placed on the group as a whole. There's only so much you could have done, " he consoled, hoping his words would help.

" But-" you paused to let out a shaky breath. The feeling of needing to cry grew, but you kept pushing it down.

" I still could've done something, anything if I was stronger. "

" That's not true, you're not some superman to be expected to take the entire mission on your back. You're only expected to do what you're capable of doing, you're not an unstoppable force, you're still only human. Humans have limits, " he explained, in an attempt to make you feel better.

" I know you're trying to distract yourself from bad thoughts, but this isn't a healthy way to do it. You need to find a safer way to take your mind off things. "

You looked away from Keegan, chewing the inside of your cheek. Your breathing was slowly starting to calm as you stood there. One of your legs was shaking a little bit.

" I don't really know how, " you admitted hesitantly.

" I know you don't, " Keegan responded, he was starting to get a grasp on the situation so he decided to do something he's never done before. Something that would be out of character for him. He sat down on the floor, and then patted a space down next to him.

" Then let me teach you. Let's have a chat, as soldiers and not superior and subordinate. "

You blinked at Keegan a few times, feeling surprised. Frankly, you had been convinced he hated you. Sure it wasn't all that far off, Keegan got easily annoyed by you, but this was definitely unexpected. You took a deep, slow, breath before shakily sitting down beside him. It was more of a flop, but it was the best he was going to get.

" So," Keegan began, taking a moment to think about what he was going to speak about, " Let me start with asking you why the thought of being stronger even crossed your mind. I didn't see you mess anything up on the mission. I don't understand why this got to you so badly. "

" People died Keegan, " you pointed out with ease. You chewed the inside of his cheek again between pauses. At this point, you'll probably rip into then by accident. You hands throbbed with pain, which did help ground you at least.

" They'll never get to go home, " you added quietly, throat feeling tight.

" And that makes you feel powerless. That's what this is about, isn't it?" He questioned, it seemed that he was connecting the dots about why you felt this way.

He then placed a hand on your back," But you can't do everything. You can't save everyone. It's just not possible. No matter how strong you are, you can't save everyone. "

You're eyes began to pool with tears. Your body language seemed to slump forward. The touch wasn't welcomed, but it wasn't rejected either. You were quiet for awhile before getting the courage to say something again.

" But I can try, " you croaked.

This had an unexpected effect on Keegan. He froze up and his face went slack with surprise. This took him by surprise.

After a moment of silence, he broke it by responding, " But you'll only hurt yourself. If your strong for the safety of others, who's watching your back? Who's saving you if something bad happens to you?" He asked, this whole situation was something he wasn't prepared for at all.

You lifted one of your hands to wipe your cheek as a tear fell, but you only smeared a bit of blood on your face from your bleeding knuckles.

" It's fine, I don't need someone as long as I can make sure they get home, " you spoke with a shaky exhale.

" And who will make sure you get home? Who will protect you? If you're the only one saving the others, then who is saving you?" Keegan questioned, and his tone went from stern to concerned. He tried not to let himself get too emotional while this conversation continued.

" I don't need it. There's no home for me, no one waiting. Not like what they have, " you sniffled quietly.

Keegan froze again, the conversation starting to break off from what he was expecting.

" Are you...alone..." he asked, not wanting to upset you any further with a poorly placed question after you already opened up so much.

" Forget it," you suddenly cut into the question Keegan asked.

You shakily got up, stumbling a little bit before grabbing your jacket and going to leave the gym.

" It's late, you should go to bed, " you told him.

" I'm not going to let you leave, " Keegan said in a stern tone. He didn't even look like the Keegan Russ right now. He looked more like an upset friend.

" You're upset about something, and I know you don't have anyone waiting or anything. But that doesn't mean your alone, you're still part of the Ghosts, we'll be your family. "

That last word was spoken softly, he didn't want you leaving.

" I'm tired Sergeant, " you sighed towards Keegan, pulling the poor man's rank. It was true though. Although you didn't say much, yojr mind felt calmer. You finally felt ready to try and sleep.

Keegan sighed, realizing he's not getting anywhere. In a moment of weakness, he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you in for a hug. He said nothing, but he felt you deserved this and you needed this.

" Get some sleep Soldier, "He said softly, this was the most human he's acted towards you since you joined.

You jumped a bit as Keegan pulled you in for a hug. You didn't fight it, nor return it, just stood there awkwardly.

" Okay, " you muffled against his chest before breaking free and leaving for your room.

Keegan just sat in the gym, watching as you walked away. He could still feel where his arm was wrapped around you. Maybe he'd see you tomorrow. He could only hope. As he sat back onto the mats on the floor, he did ponder though. He was still wondering about what you had said and he couldn't understand it. But as a whole, the night wasn't a waste. So he took it as a win.

The next morning came quickly, thankfully for you. You had struggled a lot in trying to get some sleep. Despite feeling ready, the moment you had laid down you found it next to impossible to do it. You ended up spending the rest of the night staring out the window or at the ceiling, drowning in your thoughts.

You didn't do much today, didn't have anything planned. Originally you were going to sleep away the day, but by eight am you came to be defeated by the inability to do so. Slowly, you got out of bed and went to shower instead. Once finished with that and in fresh clothes, you tried again. By ten am you were wandering around base. Occasionally, you were stopped and asked to run things to other people since you were free. You didn't mind, which was new since normally you told them to fuck off.

Finally, at noon you made your way to the mess hall for lunch. You grabbed a sandwich, not the best kind but you couldn't complain, then settled down at a table near the corner. It was also close to an exit. You began to eat. Quickly you came to learn you hated the sound of you chewing right now. However, you powered through anyway. Your hands throbbed with pain, especially after your shower. You had poorly wrapped the injuries with gauze the best you could. You really didn't have a lot of medico knowledge. Most the basics you had been taught you didn't even remember anymore.

Keegan walked into the mess hall and grabbed a slice of toast before taking a seat at an empty table. After a few moments of munching, he glanced up to find you with very poorly wrapped hands. He watched your hands shake as you picked up your sandwich and took a bite out of it. You were eating it fairly slowly, concerning since you usually inhaled food. He finished what was in his mouth before walking over to you and taking a seat in the chair across the table from you.

" Your hands look like a mess, " He teased with a playful look, one that only annoyed you.

Unlike you, Keegan had clearly gotten some rest after your talk. Blinking a few times, you looked up from the table to see him. It took you a few moments to register what he had said, pressing how tired you felt further.

" Oh, " you replied dryly for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts as fast as your tired mind allowed you to. " I did my best. "

" I can see that you did, " Keegan nodded, staring at you for a solid minute. " But your hand wrap will not hold. I'm surprised it's held up this long, really, " he added, taking another glance over your hands.

" I could do a better wrap then this, if you're letting me of course, " he offered, trying to make you feel better.

Keegan knew that this was something stupid to focus on, but he was more concerned about these rather poorly wrapped hands then what he should be.You frowned as he spoke. It upset you simply because you really had done your best. You had thoughht you did pretty good, considering your past tries. The offer, however, peaked your interest.

" Oh, if it's not a bother... "

" Of course not, I'll wrap them. No problem, " he assured, smiling softly at you, it was clear that this wasn't any sort of bother to him.

" I can bring you to my quarters, and I can try to clean your hands. I did my emergency medical training awhile back so this should be easy. "

He got up, offering a hand for you to take so Keegan could walk you to his quarters.

" Okay, just let me finish eating, " you huffed quietly then took another bite of your sandwich. You weren't even half way through it yet.

He huffed in reply to you then flopped back down into his chair. Dramatic, but it's how he felt. He was annoyed you were taking so long. He rested his head into the palm of his hand, watching people walk by and listening into other conversations to pass the time. You took your time eating, movements slow and sluggish. You often blinked rapidly here and there to help wake up. When you finished, you wiped your mouth with your sleeve and got up. You took care of your trash then awkwardly waited by Keegan for him to get up.

It took him a full minute to realize too, clearly all wrapped up in his head. You waved your hand in front of his masked face, watching as his free hand snapped to your wrist. You flinched, mostly from pain rather than the sudden movement. You both blinked at each other. With annoyance in his eyes, he let go and got up. Another huff from him. You were pretty used to the noise, as he often did it instead of communicating.

With a small gesture of his hand, Keegan lead the way to his room. He kept a lookout for anyone who was currently walking to make sure they didn't see a superior officer walking a subordinate back to their quarters. It could lead to the wrong impression, which neither of them needed. You trailed behind him, gently rubbing your knuckles in an attempt to sooth the ache. You didn't really think about you following him to his room much. Really, it was the last thing on your mind right now.

After a few minutes of walking they arrived at Keegan's quarters, he unlocked the door before opening it and holding it open for you to walk through. You looked around the space after stepping in. You waited for Keegan for a few seconds before loosing patience and settling down into a chair, feeling too tired to keep standing. Keegan then, finally, followed through before locking the door behind himself.

" Would you feel comfortable with me removing these bandages? I'll need to see your hands first, " he asked, not wanting to just jump in without permission.

Instead of replying verbally, you just offered your hands. It was a silent permission to do as he wanted and needed. Keegan walked over to you and took your hands into his own, they were cold but he expected that. He started peeling the poorly wrapped bandages from your hands, as he did so he started asking questions.

" When can you last remember wrapping these bandages? "

" Few hours ago, " you mumbled sleepily, " After My shower. " Occasionally, you winced as they were removed.

Your knuckles were scattered with open wounds and ugly purple and blue bruising that was slowly beginning to yellow. It looked awful, felt just as much. Your skin was scattered with red and pink from irritation as well.

Keegan flinched softly whenever you winced, he didn't want to be the one hurting you. These aren't the worst injuries he'd seen before, but he wasn't going to dismiss this as a mild injury either. After he got done removing all of the bandages, he started inspecting your injured hands before cleaning up the wounds, he then pulled up various materials and started setting up the materials he'd need to rewrap your hands.

As the injuries were cleaned, your eyes slowly began to pool with tears. A few escaped here and there. You were never much of a cryer, so it was so odd. So concerning. It even confused you, which was evident by the mixed expression you were beginning to have.

" Hurts, " you whispered quietly without even thinking.

Keegan took notice of this when it happened, but he kept his mouth shut and began speaking once he got everything he needed set up.

" I know it does. Don't worry, it'll be all finished in just a minute. "

After a few minutes, he was done rewrapping them. Keegan even went the extra step of wrapping them better then you did. He checked each one to make sure they were done just right. He then gave you a soft, masked, smile. You could only tell there was a smile thanks to his pretty blue eyes crinkling.

" Does this feel better? "

The better treatment of the injuries definitely helped, though they still hurt. It was only natural they did after all. You clenched and stretched out his fingers here and there, feeling how odd it felt. Then you childishly rubbed at one of your eyes. You felt so sleepy.

" 'm hurts, " you still expressed the pain anyways.

" I know you are, " Keegan said softly as he watched you rub your eyes. " Do you want to go to sleep? "

He knew you were exhausted, both mentally and physically. He knew that if you didn't get some rest you'd start to lose focus. And he didn't want that to happen. You gave a small nod. Your mind felt so odd, fuzzy. You didn't know how to describe it or feel about it. You felt a bit more childish, however. Keegan noticed this change in behavior immediately, he didn't like it. Sure, acting a bit childish could be cute or funny, but right now, it was just concerning for him.

" You're acting a bit different. Can you talk to me about how you're feeling right now? "

It was almost like you had regressed some, but that couldn't be possible. Right?

" Tired, " you replied, only to yawn and rub and your eyes more. It was so hard to focus.

" So I take it you're a bit sleepy? " Keegan asked, he got the idea that you might have regressed when you started to act a little different.

The tired behavior was the biggest sign that he was able to notice and put together quickly. This was unexpected, but something he wouldn't question you on. If you kept showing signed of regression, then he'd go along with it. He'd protect you even, as he told himself. You let out a small whine at the question. You wanted to go to bed now, but the idea of walking back to your room by yourselves sounded scary. Especially since yours and Keegan's room were so far apart.

" So what if we slept here? " Keegan purposed the idea.

In the moment it was the best option, and you seemed to be in no shape to walk yourself to bed, to be fair. Maybe his offer was a little odd, but in the moment it felt right for him to ask the question. He didn't want you to have to walk all the way back to your own quarters in this state.

" Okay? " you asked. You meant to ask if if really was okay if you slept here, in Keegan's room. But your regressed and exhausted mind couldn't put the words together fully. No matter how much you tried, you just couldn't.

Keegan just smiled softly, he knew what you meant even if your mind could not fully put the words together at this moment. Thank the God's he knew what you meant. This was a much better deal for you, if you slept here then you wouldn't have to walk yourself to bed. He got up without asking if you wanted him to, and walked over to his bed. Without another word, he motioned for you to lay down on the bed beside him.

You got up from the chair slowly. You were wobbly when you walked, but you managed to reach the bed without falling. Your body was screaming with aches and the need to rest- really your fault it had gotten to this point. You curled up on your side, facing Keegan. You kept your distance to keep the older man more comfortable as you yawned and got cozy.

Keegan noticed you were making sure to keep a distance from him so he wouldn't feel uncomfortable. Which he really did appreciate. He also found it extremely cute. Keegan got in the bed himself, sitting beside you but facing away so he didn't feel too awkward. It was nice being this close to someone, especially to someone this cute. He felt just the tiniest bit of a desire to pull you closer, he wondered if that'd make you uncomfortable...

With a few brief rubs to your eyes, you began to fall asleep. Just as you were dozing off, you unconsciously slipped your thumb into yout mouth to suck on. The sight of you sucking your thumb put a small smile on Keegan's face. It was one of the cutest things that he's ever seen. It made him almost want to pull you closer and hold you close, and just keep you like that for eternity. He refrained himself from doing that, as you were already close enough to him as it is. So for now he'd just lay there and watch you as you fall asleep.

Keegan watched you sleep for a little while longer before feeling tired himself. He tried to keep himself awake in case you'd need anything. However, after an hour, he decided that everything was okay. He figured you'd wake him if you needed something while you were so little anyway. With a short yawn, he shuffled to get more comfortable then allowed himself to get some rest beside you.

Morning came a lot faster than you had expected. The sun began to shine through the windows and onto you. It was warm, comforting even. Your eyes slowly blinked open. It took a few times to get them to focus. Until then you found yourself fairly surprised you had slept the entire night. It was definitely a rare occurrence for you. Eyes finally focused, they stared at the man just in front of you. A few seconds ticked by before you truly registered who it was.

You sat up so quickly you gave yourself head rush. Your heart began to race in your chest while you rubbed at your eyes a bit in an attempt to get the feeling to fade faster. Once your vision had cleared, you looked around the space. Anxiety pooled in your stomach as you began to realize you couldn't even remember how you got in Keegan's room.

Although you could admit it was a pretty room.

" Morning, " Keegan suddenly said softly, he was laying beside you and looking in your direction. He was silent for a moment but then he asked the question. It was pretty likely you had woken him up in your sudden panic. " You don't remember how you got to my bed, do you?"

You felt your face grow hot as Keegan asked the question. You rubbed at your eyes a bit to help yourself wake up more. Once this tasked was finished your hands dropped into your lap.

" Not really, " you mumbled embarrassingly.

Keegan had to fight the urge to tease you on this moment. It would be funny, it'd also make it a bit too awkward for him.

" It's fine," he decided to tell you in an attempt to comfort you somehow.

" I saw you sitting looking like you could fall dead right there. You seemed to be on the edge of losing focus and regressing too, so I just brought you to my room and you ended up falling asleep," he explained.

Confusion quickly washed over your expression. You looked over to Keegan, blinking a few times whom trying to bring your sleepy mind together. It didn't seem to make sense to you. Why would you even let him bring you here to begin with? While you weren't as tired anymore, you did feel cold.

" Regressing? " you questioned hesitantly, clearly not having a clue as to what that was.

" When you regress it means you're acting more like a child, the younger you, the more you regress. It can happen when you're stressed, or exhausted, or just when you don't want to deal with something as an adult. It doesn't happen on purpose, it's just a state of mind you can get into without trying to," Keegan patiently explained in his normal tone, as he felt this was a serious matter, but his soft tone continued to linger, his eyes looked at you nervously at the thought that you might regress again.

Not that he minded. He just wanted to spot the signs so he could support you as soon as possible instead of being dense to the signs and letting it fester.

You looked away from him, clenching your jaw as you moved to sit up better. You sat more forward with your back to him. It felt difficult to look at him, so he looked at the concrete floor that was at the foot of the bed. You looked, angry, felt it just as much. Not really towards anyone in particular though.

" Basically, there's something wrong with me and it'll get in the way of work, " you norted, but looked upset.

He sat up fairly quickly. He remained somewhat behind you, bit was trying to look at you. Either at your face or eyes, he wasn't picky as to which.

" There's nothing wrong with you," Keegan said firmly and quickly to correct you. He had to put a stop to the idea that there was something wrong because you regressed. " Regressing isn't something to be ashamed of, it's just your mind reverting back when it can't deal with something. It isn't something you can control, and it isn't something you should be ashamed of."

Keegan looked very concerned, he needed to make you not feel bad for regressing. " You're in a safe place right now, no one can or will judge you for it."

" A soldier shouldn't be acting like a child. It'll get everyone killed! " you huffed out as you moved to rub your face with your hands far harder than you needed to.

" You're not in a combat zone right now, it's okay to act a little childish right now," Keegan told you, his tone was calming and soft as he took a deep breath in and then let it out. " You don't have to be a soldier every moment of the day, you're currently not at risk of getting anyone or yourself killed." He tried to be reassuring and calm, as he felt he needed to calm you down in the moment.

" But you can't guarantee that! It isn't all that uncommon for bases to be attacked, " you snapped at him. You were working yourself up more.

" You're right, but currently at this moment in time you are completely safe and out of harms reach." he said softly, he didn't mind the fact that you snapped at him.

He knew it would only make it worse if he yelled back or grew impatient. Although it annoyed him, he did his best to take deep breaths. Keegan slid forward more to sit directly next to you. He let his legs hang off the bed, arms rested on his knees, as he leaned forward to try to look at you better.

" Right now the only thing you should be focused on is you and your injuries, not the next battle or if this base could get attacked. You're safe, and you're safe for now, and that's all that matters."

" But you don't know that for sure, " you emphasized as you rubbed one of your hands over your sleeved forearm. It was an attempt of self soothing. Unintentionally, you're letting quite a bit of your paranoia spill.

Keegan sighed softly, as you continued to voice worries. He tried to think of something to say back that wouldn't make you more upset.

" You're right, I don't know that. But even if it's attacked, we can deal with that when it happens, not right now. All I can do for now is take care of you and try to calm you down, okay?" He paused for a moment, he wanted some reassurance, maybe if he asked you would give it. " Do... Do you feel safe here?"

You took a few deep breaths, feeling worked up from the conversation. You were slightly hugging yourself while remaining stubborn with avoiding Keegan's efforts of eye contact.

" Why would you want to take care of me? I'm a fully grown ass adult, it isn't okay for me to be doing this, " you vented, eyes pooling with tears.

You had avoided his question of how safe you felt in his room, with him. Keegan didn't take this to heart, of course. Rather he allowed you to do it instead of pushing you.

" Because I care about you, I don't want people I care about to get hurt." Keegan's answer was short and simple, but it was true. He may not trust you completely just yet, but he did care about you enough not to let anything happen to you.

He scooted a bit closer to you, he felt like you needed comfort right now, and he wanted to try and be that to you. " Just, trust me that it'll be fine, but you have to stop stressing yourself out."

" I'm an adult Keegan, I shouldn't be acting like a child even if I can't control it, " you huffed out as you lifted your hand to wipe your face. Your hands burned with pain, but you continued to ignored it for the time being.

Keegan watch you wipe your face, and he seemed more concerned for you then ever before. However, he could admit, his patience was beginning to thin.

" Why do you have a problem with regressing?! Why are you so against it? It's natural, and it happens when you deal with too much stress and trauma," he snapped a little more than he'd cared to admit. He was so confused by you and why you felt so against it, what was causing you such a negative view of something like this..?

" Because it's not okay for an adult to be doing this! We have shit to do Keegan. We can't just drop everything just because I want to suck my thumb and cry, " you yelled back at him in annoyance. You didn't understand why Keegan wasn't getting where you were coming from, just like how Keegan didn't understand what you were on about.

Keegan's eyes widened a little at the yelling, but he refrained from raising his voice in response. This was frustrating. He wanted to understand what this negative mindset you have was all about, but you weren't giving him anything here.

" And it's completely fine for an adult to regress, just because you're an adult doesn't mean you can't act like a child at times, " he paused for a moment before asking you a question, " Did something happen to you for this to be a negative thing?"

" No, I've- I've never done this before, " you hiccuped out quietly, lowering your voice suddenly. Maybe it was untrue. You wouldn't know. As far as you knew, you've never regressed before. Although given you didn't remember much about yesterday, maybe you just didn't remember.

" Well, that makes it even more confusing then. If you've never done this before, then why do you have such a negative viewpoint? I'm just trying to figure out why you seem to be so against this."

Keegan continued to talk in his soft tone of voice, even though you were starting to really frustrate him. He figured it was best to not raise his voice, to try and keep you calm. It seemed to be working, at least so far. You tried to wipe your face again, trying to stop the tears. It didn't do much, especially with how much your hands were shaking.

" Because it's not okay, " you said again, whispering with your tone breaking.

Keegan put his hands on your hands to stop you from wiping your eyes anymore.

" What's not okay about it? The fact that you regress? Or did I read that wrong? Also, it seems like you're about to cry here, what's wrong?" This was the most frustrating part for him, you were giving no valid reason to what you believe about this.

As he took your hands, you leaned into Keegan. Really, you practically flopped against him. You rested your head against his chest, curling up as tears began to fall. You didn't know why you did this. You just felt the sudden, almost desperate need, to have physical comfort. The moment you had done this, Keegan quickly wrapped his arms around you. The touch was loose, but welcoming your weight with ease. He held you up calmly, those calm breaths soothing you unintentionally.

" It isn't okay, I'm an adult not a kid, " you mumbled.

" It has always been okay for adults to behave like kids when they're too overwhelmed or exhausted. This doesn't make you any worse of an adult for regressing. You're still an adult, you're just acting like a kid for the moment. There's no issue with that."

He tried to stay calm and be firm about everything that he believed. You were safe, nothing was wrong, you were just exhausted. Keegan couldn't see why you were so against this, but that doesn't matter now. He eeded to calm you down. Even if it was only a little bit. Carefully and gently, he began to rub your back in a soothing pattern of circles.

You didn't reply this time, instead hiccuping quietly as you cried. The rubs helped, made you want to cling to him. You had woken up pretty cold and Keegan's warm body was making it hard to not curl up into him and bury yourself.

Keegan on the other hand had stopped talking at this point, as he knew you were clearly going through something at the moment. He had to fight the urge to coddle you like a child. But he had to calm you down first.

" Just let it all out, okay? You're safe, no one is going to hurt you here. Just let it all out."

You cuddled into Keegan. That strange fuzzy feeling was creeping up on your mind again. You didn't like it. Your shaky hands gently held Keegan's shirt, weak, but you were trying to use them through the pain they were in. You continued to quietly cry, burying your face into his shoulder instead of his chest. It helped to cry. It felt better. Keegan couldn't help but feel a bit protective of you as he continued to let you hold onto him. Your grip on his shirt just made him want to pull you in closer and comfort you even more. This was certainly going to be a long day. Even though he was letting you bury your face into his shoulder, he still had some words to say.

" It's okay... I know it's a rough morning, but it'll be all right, okay…? I'm here for you, I won't let anything bad happen to you."

" Promise? " you asked quietly, weakly, but sniffling. You didn't move from your spot.

" Promise."

He just wanted to try and reassure you as best as he could. That was the only thing he knew how to do in a situation like this.

" I promise I wouldn't let anyone or anything hurt you. You only have to just hold onto me for now, okay? You don't have to try and put on a tough act anymore, let your mind rest here."

With that, Keegan wrapped his arms tighter around you. The action pretty much pulled you into his lap. You rested on one of his thighs, half on him and half on the bed. You didn't quite want to be in his lap, as tempting as it was. He didn't stop rubbing your back. He even went as far as to tuck your head under his own.

" I've got you, it's okay, " he whispered.

You tucked your arms under yourself as you pressed close to him. His breathing was soothing. You wished you could hear his heart beat too. Unfortunately the angle you both were sitting at was a little too awkward for that. You cried when cried until no more tears could physically come out. At that point, your head hurt almost as much as your hands did. Your crying calmed to soft, quiet, sniffles and hiccups

" Hurts, " you expressed, word slightly slurring as you confessed the distress to Keegan. You hadn't even realized you regressed again.

Keegan's eyebrows furrowed together as you continued to whimper in pain. Your whimpers made him want to try and soothe you even more. You seemed so broken and tired, it broke his heart.

" Where does it hurt?" he asked gently as he hugged you a bit tighter to him. He had figured you weren't even aware you regressed, so he thought it was best to keep that to himself, for now.

You lifted one of your hands, the other tucked against your chest. Your knuckles hurt a lot today, more so than yesterday. You tried to move your fingers, but it only made your hands hurt more and shake.

" Your knuckles, right?" he asked as he looked down over at your hand, he was starting to get a bit anxious. He had a strong feeling that you were going to regress even further very soon, and he didn't want it to hurt you.

" You're shaking, and you're in quite a bit of pain... you can't even move your hand without shaking... It might be best if we take it easy for now." He was becoming more worried, your body language was very telling.

" 'm head too, " you whispered pretty shyly. It warmed his heart you were telling him, though.

" Probably from crying, but it's okay, " he lightly teased with a chuckle.

You let out a soft whine and curled up against Keegan. You gave small nods as he spoke. You wished your pain would go away and you wanted him to make it go away. You cuddled into him, quietly chewing and sucking on your bottom lip. At this point, you were in his lap. You didn't even realize either. You were curled up perfectly in his lap. His arms supporting you while he unconsciously rocked you both back and forth.

Slowly, and sweetly, Keegan kissed the top of your head. Then he peeled a hand away to carefully take one of yours. He kissed each knuckle then did the same for the other hand.

" Healing kisses, " he hummed then wrapped his arms back around you. " They'll feel better in no times now. "

It was unlikely the kisses would truly do anything, but your mind convinced you otherwise in an instant. You blinked at one of your hands, staring at the knuckles. As a sniffle escaped, a small smile spread on your lips. It warmed your chest, allowing you to feel a little better at least. You quickly buried yourself right back into his welcoming embrace. Once settled, Keegan began to rock you again.

At least the smile was progress.

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wordsaresimple-imnot · 16 days

Text

The game continues (Truth or dare part 2) - Joe Toye x F!Reader

Summary: Part two of "Truth or dare". Toye and Reader go to his room to finish what they started earlier that night.

Warnings: 18+ content, smut (p in v), slight male dom, oral teasing (male receiving), female pronouns/body parts.

A/N: I have the biggest respect for the real life heroes of WWII (and all other wars, past & current), this work & all other works is based on the actor(s) and character(s) portrayed in the Band of Brothers series.

A/N pt 2: Full discloser, this story took on a mind of its own and ended up filthier than I planned. But I regret nothing. As always, please like, comment, reblog :) :) :) They keep me going.

As promised, @imaginethatneathuhpartdos here's part two! I hope you like it!!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

True to his word, Joe was waiting for me when I walked out of the medic station thoroughly exhausted. Without speaking, he tossed the cigarette he was holding away, grabbed my hand and started leading us towards the housing areas. When we reached the building housing the NCO's, Joe did a quick look around then ushered me inside quickly before a patrol officer saw me. Up a flight of stairs and past two doors later we were inside Joe's room.

The second the door clicks shut, Joe locks it and spins us around so I am effectively pinned between it and him. He teasingly brushes his lips against mine before trailing kisses across my cheek to my ear.

"I've been distracted all fucking night, thanks to you. A Kraut tank could have drove right past me and I wouldn't have noticed or cared." His breathe is hot against my ear, followed by a soft kiss. I turn my head and place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Did you touch yourself?" I, too, was distracted all night thinking about him but I wasn't about to admit it.

Joe pulls back enough to meet me eyes, a smirk on his face, "A good soldier follows orders, ma'am." He presses his hips against mine and I can feel how hard he still is. I grab his jacket and keep him anchored against me.

"Well done, soldier. I guess I should reward you." I move us around so he's now leaning against the door. "Let's continue our game, but it's going to be all truths. So, how do you want your reward: hand or mouth?" When he doesn't immediately respond, I run my hand down his chest, stomach and stop right on top of his bulge giving it a hard squeeze. "Hands or mouth, Sergeant?"

Joe's eyes are nearly black with arousal as he breathes out, "Mouth."

In a flash, I'm on my knees unbuckling his belt and pulling his layers down until his penis is free. The tip is flushed red with precum leaking out. I glance up, meeting his gaze as I lean forward and lick his tip clean.

"Fucking tease." Joe grits out behind clenched teeth, his breathing hard and uneven already. I shoot him a smirk and while I would have loved to have drawn this out, he wasn't the only one horny beyond belief. Opening my mouth wide, I lean forward again and take as much of him as I can without gagging. "Goddamn!" Joe groans above me and I feel his hand tangle in my hair, holding tight.

He lets me set the pace, starting in slow bobs with my tongue swirling around his tip and the vein running up his underside. I can tell he's getting antsy when his hips buck lightly up and his grip in my hair gets tighter. At a small tug on my strands, I moan around his penis and he lets out a hiss. Picking up my pace, I use one hand to stroke what isn't in my mouth, squeezing his base and slip the other between my thighs to alleviate some of my own throbbing.

Joe's thrusts start to become harder and he's cursing with every breathe he lets out. Soon he's tugging my head back and off of him, ignoring my attempts to keep going.

"I promise I'll cum in your mouth next time baby. Right now, I need to cum in your pussy." He doesn't wait for a response, just pulls me flush against him and plunges his tongue inside my mouth. These kisses are possessive and leave no room doubt that Joe Toye is in control now.

I'm positive a button or two gets ripped from our clothes in our haste to be naked, but neither of us give a damn at this point. Joe pushes me down onto the bed, hands gripping my thighs as he kneels between them, drinking me in. Slowly he leans over me, hovering just a hairs breathe away from touching me and flips the game on me.

"Back or knees?" My brain is practically mush at this point and I can't fully comprehend what he's asking. He gives a slap to my thigh, bringing my thoughts out of a haze for a moment while he repeats his question. "You staying like this or or getting on your knee's for me again?"

"Knee's." Joe's kissing me hard as the word flies from my mouth, dominating me yet again. He bites my lip hard as he pulls away and slaps my thigh again, signaling me to flip around. No sooner am I on my hands and knee's before him, then I feel his fingers stroking me, spreading my wetness around.

"Next game, I'm tying you to this bed and counting how many times I can make you cum with my tongue and fingers." His voice is dark and full of a promise I know he will keep. My only response is to moan and push my hips back towards him. One of his hands grabs hold of my hip so hard I know it'll bruise, and love that, and the other trails up my spine and grabs a fistful of hair again.

Without warning, he lines himself up and bottoms out inside me. We curse at the same time, reveling in the feeling of finally being connected after so much build up, and between one breathe and the next he starts fucking me.

The pace is brutal and primal and perfect. First he uses his hand in my hair to shove my upper half more onto the bed, angling my hips to hit me deeper and grinding every time he bottoms out. All thoughts have left my mind and the only thing I can focus on is the feeling of him and trying to breathe. Behind me, Joe is bouncing between compliments and cursing.

"Fuck. You're so goddamn tight. Jesus Christ, baby. You were made for me."

The next time he bottom's out, he pulls me up so my back is flush with his front and then goes back to his previous pace. The hand that was on my hip, moves around and up my stomach, so he can massage my breasts and tweak my nipples. Joe uses his leverage in my hair to turn my head at the right angle to give me a bruising kiss.

"Touch your clit, baby. I need you to cum." He bites my lip before giving me another hard kiss. My hand flies down to my bud and starts rubbing furiously to help me fall over the edge. Joe's thrusts start to become sloppy and I know he's just as close as I am. "I'm close, doll. Hurry up. Cum!" He drops his head and bites my shoulder hard enough I wouldn't be surprised if it drew blood.

The combination of pain and pleasure tips me over and if he wasn't hold me up with his arm I would have collapsed into the bed. My orgasm triggers his and he cums with a loud shout. Joe manages a few more ruts before shifting us so we fall onto the bed on our sides, his arms tangled around me keeping us pressed together.

Is it minutes or hours that go by, neither of us know or care. We eventually part, Joe uses his undershirt to clean up between my legs, passing me a clean t-shirt to sleep in. After he's finished cleaning up the best he can, he tosses on a pair of underwear and pulls a blanket over the both of us, dragging me to lay across his chest. As the afterglow sets in and mixes with our previous exhausting, we manage quiet 'goodnights' and fall into a deep sleep.

Bonus scene: The next day

"You're a dumb ass, you know that?" I say, working on finishing up a few stitches on Guarnere's forehead. He had tried to jump between some ruble on patrol and needless to say he didn't make it.

"But I'm still handsome right?" He shoots me an overly confident smirk. I just roll my eyes and laugh.

"Not my type, but I'll confirm with the other nurses that like to stare at you."

"Speaking of you type, there was some pretty loud noises going on in the house last night. And Toye has a big ass mark on his neck. Know anything about it?" He starts to laugh as I feel my cheeks burn, and I not so accidently pull on the last stitch harder than needed to make him wince.

"I haven't a clue what you're talking about." Before he can make a smart ass remark back, Tab comes walking into the medic station flowers in hand. Guarnere and I share a slightly confused look, as the former man stops in front of us.

"Gee, thanks Tab. But daisy's ain't really my favorite." Guarnere jokes.

Tab just ignores him and looks at me, "Do you know where Emily is? I heard she was working a shift today?"

"Yeah, she's in the supply closet. End of the hall." I wave vaguely and watch him nearly jog out of sight.

"What the hell was that?" I ask out loud, not really expecting an answer.

"Must have been what Toye wanted to talk to him about at breakfast. Something about owing Emily a 'thank you'." Guarnere gave me a curious look as I started smiling. Instead of elaborating, I snip off the end of his stitch and nod at my handing work, taking a step back.

"There, good as new. Try to not screw up my hard work." Guarnere hops off the bed.

"Thanks, sweetheart. Now if you don't mind, could you point out the nurses that stare at me?"

#band of brothers #joe toye #joe toye x reader #hbo war #hbo band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic

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clubdionysus · 10 days

Text

[BAD DECISION #14] New Rules

warnings: enter stage left: jungkook's hands. the birds are up to no good!! fingering; 1, 2, 3, scouts honour, woohoo! mirrors!! dirty talk! jaykay is so hard he might die, but no action for him! no kissing rule established! no pet names! no hand holding!!! fingers in minge?? perfectly fine! totally friendly!

soundtrack: nonsense - sabrina carpenter

wc: 7.9k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"Hey," you greet Jeongguk with a coy smile by your apartment door. He smiles back. Tells you that you look like shit. Is definitely lying.

The way he looks you up and down gives it away.

Your hair is up in a claw clip, still a little uneven in colour because you don't want to put it through even more torture. A slouchy white shirt hangs off your left shoulder, and a pair of dark leggings hug your legs. It's casual. Comfy. Still got glitter on your eyes, as always.

Jeongguk can't remember if you've had a discussion about yoga leggings, and how they've got a track record of giving him boners in record speed.

You haven't. You're just aware your ass looks fairly good in them. Not like it matters. Not like you need him to think your ass looks good. No, nothing like that at all.

You also haven't started a daily squat challenge. That would be immature. Flirting with danger. And even if you had, it would be incredibly stupid to leave the chart up on the kitchen fridge - which is where you beeline after you leave the door open for him.

You don't bother inviting him in, mind you. He knows he's welcome. Not because he's been there a thousand times over, nor because it's where you usually spend time together, but because the apartment is yours . He's welcome in your space.

But he is incredibly early - and you tell him as such when you curl up on the couch, tucking the piece of paper you'd swiped from the fridge door beneath a stack of magazines. Jeongguk takes the spot next to you, despite the fact there are plenty of other places for him to sit instead. Part of you is tempted to kick him off.

The rest of you, though? So incredibly glad to have him close again.

"Danbi's class runs for another half an hour," you tell him as you scroll through the Netflix landing page.

It's a Monday, and neither of you have been at work today. The perks of your schedules aligning mean that Monday is always a safe bet, but you'd been in desperate need of alone time. The past few weeks have exhausted your social battery.

Jeongguk gets like that sometimes, too - but he also doesn't like spending too much time in his own head, and so when a text from you had pinged through earlier that afternoon asking if he wanted to hang out, he replied almost immediately.

It's been a week. Over a week, actually. It's the first time he's seen you since you left his apartment. There's been no real discussion of what happened. A few 'i've seen your tits lol ' texts here and there, but nothing that really qualifies as a grown-up conversation. You think you like it better this way; prefer the ominous unknown of the impact such a venture has had on your friendship.

For the most part, it seems like it's had minimal impact. None of which you can recognise straight off the bat, at least. Maybe he's a little more comfortable now than he once was, but you can't really tell. Not entirely.

Thing is, he always seemed comfortable before. There's never really been a need for boundaries. They came and went naturally.

Perhaps that's your problem: you got far too relaxed far too quickly.

And yet you keep a little distance. Who cares if he's seen your tits? God forbid you sit too close to one another.

"Class?" He questions, not realising Danbi was still studying.

She isn't. It's just her hobby. Something she does to unwind after spending all day chasing after unruly dogs.

You nod, eyes still on the screen, looking for something mindless to put on. He's here for the second installment of your Deadpool marathon, so you don't want to put anything worthy of investment on.

"Pole."

"Pole as in..." he says slowly, not sure of the correct term, so you help him out.

"As in pole dancing," you confirm. "She's been doing it for a while. Keeps trying to get me to join."

Jeongguk doesn't look at you as he smirks, his eyes now also focused on the Netflix loading screen. "You? Pole dancing?"

There's a jovial glint in his eye, as if he thinks it's the funniest thing he's heard all afternoon. If you were to say that, he'd tell you that you're wrong. It's the funniest thing he's heard all day.

"Hey!" You kick your leg out to tap him, but he stops it before you can reach him. Squeezes his hand ever so gently around your foot. Pushes it back towards you, and holds it down. "I could be good at pole!"

He looks over to you now. "Byeol, I've seen you after twenty minutes on a treadmill. You don't have the stamina."

The smile on his lips would make it seem like he's joking - but he has seen you on a treadmill after twenty minutes. He's absolutely telling what he deems to be the truth, and the offence you take only makes him smile even more.

"Don't-" you halt your words to utter a shriek of disbelief. "Don't have the stamina? Fuck you."

"Nah," he grins. "You wouldn't have the stamina to handle me."

The conversation remains steady; a flirt between friends. Nothing more, nothing less. It's easy. Casual.

And when Danbi gets home, it doesn't change. Oh so incredibly easy. Jeongguk fits into the life you've carved out for yourself, almost like there was a nook waiting just for him.

Pizza is ordered. Deadpool is played. Ryan Reynolds' ass in lycra is praised. Everything is as it should be.

When it hits midnight, and Danbi is already tucked up in bed, Jeongguk makes his excuses. Gears up to leave. Mentions the fact he's got the gym in the morning. Can't be out too late.

The part of you that considers telling him to stay is quiet. Instead, you just nod and agree.

"It's a miracle you're still able to have a decent sleeping pattern," you say as you walk him to the door. "I'd be exhausted all the time."

He doesn't tell you, but he is. Really could have done with an evening to himself. Uni is ramping up, and he's worried he's gonna fall behind on his coursework already.

It's why he's pretty much radio silent for the week that follows.

Until, all of a sudden, he's not.

Jeongguk: DB.

You: That's no better than disco ball .

Jeongguk: It's better than BD.

You: ... Ball disco?

Jeongguk: Big Ditties.

You: Oh my god.

You: I'm blocking you .

Jeongguk: No you're not. Come hang out.

Jeongguk: Coursework is driving me insane.

Jeongguk: Need a distraction.

You: Good. Hope it does <3

Jeongguk: :( comeee.

You: No :) x

You arrive a little after ten.

Jeongguk is in sweats and a T-shirt, beyond the point of caring to dress up in your presence. Your dynamic is well-established by now; comfort found in the confines of your time spent together. He's got a buttered slice of toast in one hand, a dusting of crumbs detailing the tips of his fingers like the glitter on the inner corners of your eyes. He'd burnt it. You can tell by the scent that lingers in the air, and the knife marks near the crusts where he'd tried to scrape it off.

He grins, in that stupid kind of lopsided way he always does whenever he gets his way.

"Thought you said you weren't coming?"

Your lips are pursed, annoyance written along the line of your frown. The ink is water-soluble, though. One bite down on your bottom lip and it washes away. "I'm here to see the children."

He stands to the side. Opens the door just a little bit wider. "It's about time. They were about to report you to child protective services."

"Oh, yeah?" You encourage his teasing as you step over the threshold.

"Uh-huh," he continues as he bites down on the toast. It crunches beneath his teeth, but doesn't stop him from talking. "Negligent mother, they said - shoes off -" he interrupts himself when you point to your feet. "Take them to my room though."

It's curious, the way he's still keeping you hidden. The only reason for them to not be in the hallway is to stop Jimin from asking questions when he arrives home.

If you knew the grilling Jeongguk's been getting ever since that evening Jimin nearly walked in on the pair of you, you'd understand. It's far easier for Jeongguk if he gives his housemate as little ammunition to tease him with as he can.

But Jimin's not home. He's in Busan for the weekend.

Jeongguk doesn't tell you this. He's not sure why. Part of him doesn't want to talk about Jimin with you. It's stupid, he'll admit, but he likes being your friend. Likes you being his friend. Doesn't like Jimin having one up on him.

He thinks it would be the same if he had a sister. That kind of protective nature.

But he's also seen you naked. Knows that he really can't kid himself into thinking it's entirely platonic. Is kind of confused by it all.

Just knows that he likes the way things are. Doesn't want them to change.

And so he doesn't mention Jimin.

When you enter his room, shoes tossed by his desk, you clamber up onto his bed and take a seat. There's no protest from him, no sign of it being an unwanted intrusion on his space. His sheets have been changed since your last visit, gold acrylic immediately washed away the morning after.

He takes a perch on his desk chair, swinging it around to face you. You're lit only by the lamp of his bedside table and the glow of the city coming in through his curtains. The warmth of the light makes your glitter look like crackling embers burning through the night skies.

"So," you say, all very matter of a fact. There's a demure nature to your poise. It's not very 'you'. "You requested my company?"

He nods.

"Why?"

He spins in his chair to his desk, and picks up a bird. Reads it aloud. "Invite a girl over."

You look at him for a moment, and purse your lips. He's an idiot .

"We both know that this isn't what that means."

"Why not?" He says as if he's genuinely without a clue.

"Because!"

You don't elaborate. Think there's no need. He knows exactly why not - but he's an insolent little fucker when he wants to be.

"No, because what , Byeol?" He says with a grin. He knows you're right. Doesn't care.

"Because," you emphasise. "We both know that inviting a girl over is so much more than just a simple act of asking her to come round. There are layers to it. Innuendo. It's like asking if she wants ramyeon, Gguk. You know this."

There's a grin on his lips that he's trying to hide - and is failing miserably.

"The bird says-"

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh. "It doesn't matter what the bird says. You know what it means."

"Yeah," he feigns innocence to his misdemeanour, eyes all wide and watery. So deep brown in colour it feels like a black hole is just sucking you in. Will never let you leave. God help the next girl who falls in love with him. "It means that I have to invite a girl to my place." He gestures towards you. Shakes his head. "You are a girl, no?"

"You've seen my tits, no?"

"You can't use tits as a qualifier," he tells you. "Not when you insist I also have tits."

"Touche - but still. It doesn't matter if I'm a girl. I'm not a girl girl."

"What does that even mean?" He scoffs, but he knows what you mean. Knows that the risk of rejection from you isn't the same as it is with a random girl. Knows that you're an exception. Not the rule.

"Like, a romantic interest," you say, well-aware he doesn't need it explaining. You just think you need to say it for your own sake. "I'm a friend. It doesn't say invite a friend round, does it?"

"Okay, but it doesn't not say that, does it?"

You're stern as you stare him down. "Jeongguk."

"Byeol," he replies with a grin so cheeky it's impossible to remain poised.

You roll your eyes. Lie down. Wave your arm in the air. "C'mere."

He doesn't relent. Doesn't say no. Just stands. Walks to his bed, and flops down beside you.

"Gimmie your phone," you say, but he refuses. "Don't be a pussy."

"I'm not. You're just not getting my phone."

You sit up. Rest on your elbow and look down at him. His eyes are closed. "Why not?"

"Because."

There's a smile tickling your lips. He's imitating you - but he also doesn't feel like explaining. Doesn't feel like trying to find a valid reason beyond 'I'm scared'.

"What happened to facing your fears, huh?" You poke his cheek. "You gonna be a coward? How is that gonna help you?"

"Byeol," he whines, tilting his head to avoid your continued poking. It's annoying, and deliberate. You want him frustrated. Want him proactive. Want him a little riled up. "Stop."

You don't.

"Byeol."

"I'll stop when you stop being a baby," you tell him, poking at his other cheek. Your finger travels all over his face, poking and prodding, ignoring the way he bats you away.

"Stop."

"You stop."

"Byeol."

And still, you don't. At least not until his fingers clasp around your wrist, holding it far away from his face.

"I said stop," he says with a voice so low it's almost a growl. His eyes are still closed. He pulls your hand to his chest. Holds it there. Is vaguely aware of the fact he's drawn you closer. Had almost made you lose your balance entirely.

It's not until you speak that he realises quite how close you actually are. Hears how quiet you are, too.

"And I told you to stop being a baby."

He opens his eyes. Takes you in. You're resting on his chest, thanks to his grip on your wrist and where he's positioned it. Neither of you seem to remember the concept of breathing.

You're close . Closer than he intended. So close he could probably count every single speck of glitter on the inner corner of your eyes. So fucking close . He thinks of the last time you were this close.

Also thinks of the fact he's now wearing sweats, and really shouldn't be thinking about you naked. Not again.

But he is, though it's not your body he's thinking of; it's your eyes, and the glitter that had been caught in your lashes beneath the water of his shower. How you'd glistened. And then fuck it, he's thinking of the way you showed him your fingers, all dainty and pretty, covered in your own-

"Fuck," you hiss in surprise, breaking from his gaze. His eyes fall to his chest, where the culprit of the interruption lies.

Another bird; resting pretty just below his ribs. It moves, up and down, with the contractions of his lungs. Jeongguk looks to you, then back to the bird. You sit up straighter and pinch it from his chest. He just lets you, because he doesn't wanna be the one to do it.

He can tell from the wing shape alone that it's one of yours - and even if he couldn't, the way you groan and let your body fall onto his in defeat is a clear sign. He laughs. Strokes his hand up your arm, then ruffles at your hair.

"How bad is it this time?"

You just whine again.

"That bad?"

Nodding into his chest, you hold out the bird for him to take. Only once his chest begins to stutter beneath you, laughter taking hold of his lungs, do you sit up.

"Stop," you tell him, pouting.

He doesn't stop laughing. Serves you right for not listening to him earlier. "Christ, Byeol. Are any of these birds-"

"No," you cut him off before he can finish.

He sighs. Looks up at the ceiling. Shakes his head. Holds the bird to his chest.

"Let's think about this logically first," he says, because it's the only way he can think to not let things get out of hand again like he did last time. "Let's talk about it before we do it instead of after."

You nod. Take a deep breath. "Okay. What are you thinking?"

He looks at you and then back up at the birds. Scrunches his face up.

"I'm thinking... Fuck, alright, I'll be honest. I haven't done..." he trails off, cringing at himself. "Since my ex - although, technically she isn't an ex, but you know what I mean - since her..."

You wait with bated breath. Know what he's getting at. "You haven't done this in a while?"

He's silent. Lets his head turn to face you. "Haven't done this in a while."

"It's okay. We don't have-"

"No," he says. "A bird is a bird. I want to do it."

"You do?"

"Well," he considers, pretending like it's the first time. He's thought about this a lot; the mechanics of your situation, how it plays out in the future. Risk assessment. He's good at those. Has to do so many of them at university that he's started drawing one up one for the pair of you in his head. "I mean if my birds are making me approach girls, chances are things will head in the direction of hooking up, right?"

You suppose he's right. Tell him as much.

"So it'd be good for me to get practise in, right?"

"You think you need it?" You grin.

"No. But I enjoy it," he says. Holds his palms up above his head. Observes them. "I like using my hands."

They're large. One of them is covered in tiny tattoos, the other completely bare. Thin veins hide beneath his honey skin, the tendons always protruding just a little bit. The kind of hands that would be good to hold.

"You've got nice hands," you admit.

Long fingers. Thick knuckles. Well-trimmed nails. Perfect hands, you consider, but will never divulge. Wouldn't want to boost his ego so much.

"Have you been checking them out?" He teases.

"You made me!" you laugh, deflecting, then imitating his voice. "' Look in the mirror, Disco Ball, blah blah blah. Eyes on me. Watch what I do.' I didn't have a choice."

"Sure," he taunts, but he knows you're probably not being dramatic. He really did make you watch yourself, and is probably gonna do it again. Seemed to work well the last time.

He places his hands beneath the side of his head, and takes a moment to check how you're feeling.

You reciprocate his actions. Look at him for a little while. Neither of you say a word. It's like you're mentally preparing for what's about to happen; making sure that it's okay. Giving one another the chance to back out.

You won't, though. Far less of a coward than Jeongguk. Too much pride.

"How do we do this?" you whisper.

He smiles. Just faintly. Tenderly. "However is most comfortable for you."

"Well, yeah," you smile back. It's sweet that he feels the need to clarify this. "But I mean, literally. Logically. How do we- Like- Do I just... take my trousers off?"

"I mean, it could be a start," Jeongguk laughs. "We're thinking about it too hard."

You groan. Look to the ceiling with an embarrassed smile. You're both a little awkward, but it definitely feels like the awkwardness is mainly your problem today.

"Did you... with Jimin. Did you do this?" Jeongguk asks. He's not sure why. Just wants to know.

The bird lies between you both. Has just two words on it. No exclamation points this time, but still with capital letters. Somehow feels less vulnerable to you than the last one.

GET FINGERED.

You consider not answering. Think it's kind of shitty to air Jimin's laundry in such a way - but it's just as much about you as it is him. More so, even.

"Not really," you admit. "A little bit. I hurried him along."

Jeongguk pauses now. Thinks. Asks, "hurried?"

"It's just kind of what I do," you sigh, pulling your knees a little further up. Closing off. Protecting yourself. Jeongguk pushes them back down again. You let him. "I don't really let people touch me, in that regard. I let them fuck me. Don't let them... have me."

Jeongguk wants to ask what that entails, but figures you'd have shared it if you wanted to.

"I guess," you continue slowly, quickly glancing away, before deciding that his eyes are what you wanna see when you explain your relationship with sex. You want him to understand - and so you look back to him. He doesn't take his eyes off of you. "I kind of focus on the other person, yanno? For me, sex? Now? It's validation, I guess. Proving to myself I can still give people some form of... I don't know. Satisfaction? So yeah. I don't really want people touching me, as such. I'll touch them. I'll get them off. And I'd prefer it if they didn't get me off."

"It's a power thing, isn't it?" Jeongguk theorises. "Control?"

You're silent. Just shrug. Maybe .

"I think - and you can tell me to shut up if you want - but I think that maybe it's because of your ex. He always held the cards?" Jeongguk pauses, but you don't respond. Just look at his chest. Toy with the silver chain around his neck. "And this is your way of holding them instead?"

The silence remains. You're twisting his chain around his neck, now. Getting the clasp to the nape of his neck instead of at the front where it had been. Jeongguk watches your unfocused eyes and wonders what the fuck is running through that disco ball mind of yours.

"Hey, Byeol?"

"Mhmm?"

"You're still in control," he says so tenderly it's almost a whisper. He reaches over. Picks a rogue chunk of glitter from the strands of your hair that wisp around your face. Tucks the hair behind your ear. Lets his hand fall to chin, and tilts your face upwards. Looks you dead in the eye, and says, "I'll do whatever you're comfortable with. Nothing more, nothing less."

You shake your head. "You get a say in this. It's not all up to me."

"I know I do," Jeongguk replies without missing a beat. "If I didn't want to do something, I wouldn't. You're in control, but I can't be forced to do anything. Good luck trying if you think I can be."

You narrow your eyes a little. "So you're saying you want to do stuff with me?"

He grins. "Well, I don't find you entirely repulsive, even if you are incredibly annoying."

"Always a charmer."

"It's how I get all those girls - oh, wait," he jokes. Pauses. Thinks. Sighs. "Look, I'd rather work through my issues before I fuck up yet another relationship, and from the looks of it, you'd rather work through yours too. It just makes sense."

"I mean, we could just get therapy."

"Expensive."

"Time-consuming," you agree.

"This is far easier," he smirks, before deciding that you've had enough serious chats. There's no point running around in circles again. And so he decides to lighten the mood. "Now do you wanna get fingered or not?"

"Oh my god!" You slap at his chest and roll onto your back, laughing. "You're fucking vulgar."

"Is that a no?"

"It's an ' ask nicely, Jeongguk. '"

He rolls onto his back, now. Laughs, too. "Is that what you want? For me to play nicely?"

"You're not playing at all, yet," you remind him.

There's hesitancy from both of you. It's a little awkward, and so unlike you - but there's no alcohol in your system like there was the first time a bird was attempted, and no excuse to touch like there was with the paint.

This one is just you and Jeongguk.

"Can I go freshen up first?" You ask, a little nervous and highly aware of the fact you hadn't come with the intention of getting Jeongguk in your underwear. He says of course, but you're halfway out of the door regardless.

As soon as you're in the bathroom, you're rummaging around in the cupboard - praying - looking for a disposable razor of sorts. You know Jeongguk keeps his good one in his room, next to his towels.

Apparently, Jimin just loves to share regardless of what it is, much to Jeongguk's dismay. It's not like Jimin's razor is here either - he's taken it with him to Busan.

Your search is fruitless, and when you return to Jeongguk's room a little unsure of yourself, jeans off and tossed onto his desk chair, he can sense there's something wrong.

"I haven't shaved," you sort of blurt out, much to his surprise.

"Okay?" He grins, drying off his wet hands that he'd washed in the kitchen while you were gone. "Nor have I? You want a medal?"

"No, I just-"

"Thought I'd care?" He questions, a little bit offended. "First things first, this isn't about me. It's about you. And secondly, I kinda like it - so I really don't care."

"You like it?"

"I like pussy," Jeongguk simply states. "Like it no matter what way it's served up."

"You're not eating it."

"Not yet."

"You are unbelievable."

"Believe it, Byeol," he winks, perching on the end of his bed. Reaching out, he encourages you closer. Gets your standing between his legs. "Enough fucking around though. I think we should set out some ground rules."

"Ground rules?" You question, knowing it's probably smart. Aren't sure why you didn't think of it first.

He knows why. Casual sex isn't that much of a big deal to you.

Jeongguk's not good at the whole unattached sex thing, though. He only really sleeps with girls he's interested in romantically.

A boy that looks like him? You had expected him to have well over a dozen notches on his bedpost - but he can count them all on one hand.

It's not that he's a prude, or vanilla, or anything like that. Jeongguk fucks. He fucks well. He just fucks the same people for extended periods of time. Takes comfort in routine. No chance to sleep around when you're as loyal as a dog.

You're the exception, not the rule. Time and time over, it becomes more and more apparent.

"Rules," he nods.

"No kissing," you reply almost immediately.

"No-" he's about to protest, but then nods. "No kissing."

In fact, he actually agrees with you. He loves kissing. Might even like it more than blowjobs. Would happily take an hour make-out session in lieu of foreplay. For him, it is foreplay.

And so despite how desperately sad he is to know he won't get his favourite thing, he understands why.

He only likes it because of how intimate it is.

"Anything else?"

You take a moment to think, and then decide, "No hand holding, either. And no pet names."

"Not even Byeol?"

"At this point, I'm not even sure you remember my real name, Gguk. Byeol is fine."

He nods, then scrunches his nose in a little disgust.

"God." He dry-retches. "Imagine calling you something like baby ." He retches again, a light grin tickling his lips as you scoff in offence. "Yeah, no you wouldn't suit anything cute."

"You're so lucky that the idea of you calling me baby repulses me," you flirt right back.

"Oh yeah?" he smirks - and then he's toying with the hem of your shirt. Pushing it up. Ghosting the lace of your thong with the tips of his fingers. "You'd hate it, would you?"

His fingers creep down. The pads of his fingers trace the tops of your thighs. Skirt the lace trim of your panties where they cover your pussy. Has your heart beating at a mile a minute.

"Would be such a turn-off."

The way his eyes scan your face has you wanting to take back every single rule you've just set.

"So you're telling me you're turned on, now?"

His words are met with a shrug. "I don't know, Jeon. Am I?"

"If I'm not allowed pet names, there's no way in hell you're allowed Jeon."

"No?"

He stands. Towers above you. Turns you round. Lowers his head, and lets his lips ghost your ear. "Not unless you wanna get me hard."

You fucking giggle . It's sin. When you turn your head ever so slightly to whisper in his ear, he thinks about saying fuck it to the birds. Needs more than what they're providing.

"I can feel you. You're already hard, Jeon ."

He pulls away from you. Palms at his crotch. You're right. And so he just smirks. "Fine. Harder ."

"Wouldn't that be a shame," you tease - but are met with a show of dominance you've haven't seen before from Jeongguk as clasps both of your wrists together just above your ass. Positioning you just where he had you last time he was in your room, you know your underwear is getting ruined.

The view reflected back in his full-length mirror only makes your heart beat even faster.

"I won't lie," he swallows back the nerves that he was able to hide while he was flirting. Down his throat they go, settling next to his heart that's already beating a mile a minute. Positioning himself behind you, he encourages you both to the floor. You're sitting in front of him, as he kneels behind you and pulls you back a little. "You're right. I'm already real fucking hard, Byeol."

"Really?" You smirk. "Couldn't tell."

He tilts his head back. Groans. "God, I hate you. I want you to ignore it, okay? It's my problem to deal with."

All you can do is nod.

"Okay," he says softly as he leans around to position your legs how wants them: bent at the knees. Spread. You're on display - and Dear lord, what a treat for the audience. A treat for him . "Look in the mirror. Watch me, okay? Watch my hands."

And you do; watch the way his palms lay flat on your knees, then slowly, gradually, trickle down your thighs. "What do you say if you wanna stop?"

"Chess," you say, ending the word with a gasp as his thumbs brush the outer lace of your panties.

"Good girl," he hums into your ear, but you can barely hear him over your beating heart as his thumb begins to stroke over your clothed pussy. You're already soaked. It wets his thumb. Has him smirking. "Told you so."

He pushes the lace to the side. Exposes you. Makes him curse. Is slow as he sinks a single finger into you.

He keeps it shallow. Just the first two knuckles. Just enough to let you know he's there. You can still see the ink on his finger.

The moan you exhale is desperate. Needy . Gets him all smug.

"Just testing the waters," he husks into your ear as he pulls it back out, before the pads of his fingers begin to massage around your entrance. He's teasing. Caressing. Doing shit you've only ever had women do to you. The dudes you've fucked have never really cared for stimulation beyond the clit; haven't understood that the right touches in slightly different places can get you so fucking needy.

Needy like you mean it. Not the bratty kind, where you're in control; the pathetic kind, where they're in control.

He's massaging. Using his thumb and forefinger. Working his way up your labia; left side, then right. Up, then down.

It's not like the sensation is anywhere close to what it feels like when his fingers are elsewhere, but it's the fact he's doing it all that really gets you flustered. He's careful . Delicate. Wants you to feel good.

When you let out a moan, you can feel him smirk against you. He lines himself up with your entrance. He pushes his middle finger inside; fully this time. Pumps into you once, twice - "are you always this wet?" - then begins to stroke against your front wall. You whine.

He pushes into you again. Tells you how fucking hot you sound. Pulls out. In again. And then he builds speed. Fucks his finger into you. Just one - but it's enough.

Finally, you answer him between laboured breaths.

"Dunno. You'll have to do this again sometime and figure it out."

Withdrawing his finger, Jeongguk rubs small circles over your clit. Holds onto you tighter. Smirks as your whimpers begin to build. His nose nestles into your hair, lips against your ear. "You want that, huh?"

The way your hips push up and grind against his languid movements should be indication enough - but you don't want to give him the satisfaction. Not yet, at least.

You smirk right back. "Meh. You could always just compare notes with Jimin, instead."

He pauses for a split second. Scoffs. Sinks his finger back into you. Builds pace. Can hear the sounds of your soaked cunt and knows that it would be cruel to compare. Jimin wouldn't stand a chance. There's no way he had you like this, too.

And Jeongguk would be right. The way Jeongguk has you now is unlike any of your hookups. You're sober, for a start, and that always helps in the wetness department - but you are wetter than you've been in a fair while.

His fingers are long. Intentional in the way they move. His middle finger hits all the right spots as it pushes into you. He curls it gently without needing to be told. He just knows. Can feel the slight difference in texture. Had trained himself to find it in the past, and is pleased to see yours is just as easy to locate.

You don't think Seokjin ever found it. Not really. For a while, you pretended he could - but it never felt like this.

"Gguk," you rasp, ridding your mind of all thoughts of Seokjin. He's no right to be in your brain when it's someone else making you feel so good. "Right there. Right there. Fuck."

"I know," he husks. "Can you take another?"

All do you do is nod. Moan something incoherent. You want more.

He can tell.

"Can you take three?" he asks. You just fucking nod. Will take what he gives you. "Mhhm?"

He bites down the syllables, stopping the 'baby' he wants to mewl from coming out. He knows pet names are a no, but it's a force of habit. It's just like the muscle memory in his fingers knowing how he should touch you; something well trained, well practised.

He doesn't relent. Keeps going. Has your cunt stuffed with his fingers. Will make you cum.

It's just as much for him now as it is for you. He's watching your face, how you refuse to open your eyes, how your dewy lips are rested ajar, soft moans humming from your throat.

He kind of hates the rules. Knows they serve a purpose, and that they're smart, but it'd be so much easier for him if he could kiss you.

It's not that he actively wants to make out with you, it's just that it comes naturally to him. He doesn't think he's ever been inside a woman without actually kissing her. There's a sizable portion of his brain which is having to work against his instincts, now. If he didn't have to waste that energy, he could spend it on you instead.

But it also makes it exciting. A little sordid. You've removed the romance he typically associates with a position as promiscuous as this. Maybe he is capable of fucking around.

"I know," he husks as your body writhes beneath his touch. "Ba-" Shit . "Byeol, I know. That feel good?"

Feel good? Feel good? What kind of a fucking question is that? If you could form a coherent sentence instead of moaning every other second, you'd ask him as such. Instead, you settle with, "fuck."

"Should I take that as a yes?" he smirks against your hair, his second hand dropping from the grip it has on your waist down to your pussy. Pushing your thighs a little further apart, Jeongguk has you in the palm of his hand like a fucking ragdoll. His hands work in tandem, fingers plunging into your while he rubs dainty circles over your clit, careful to not be too aggressive. He's taking his time. Building your high.

"Take it as a 'you could do better'," you whine, just to wind him up a little. He's doing fucking fantastic.

" Better ?" He sounds offended, but is smirking, watching pleasure take hold of your features. He loves the way you goad him on. Knows you must be a right little brat in the right scenario. Think maybe one day, he'd like to experience it fully. For now, he simply growls into your ear. "Open your eyes. Look at yourself." He builds his pace. The sounds of him sliding into you are lewd. Soaking. Sopping wet. "You hear that? Tell me to do better again. Go on. I dare you."

Your gaze opens, all hazy and cum-drunk, falling on the mirror. Your skin is dewy, and the incident positioning of your spread legs puts you on full display.

Jeongguk withdraws his fingers. Spreads your lips open. Holds his stare on you. Watches as your wetness drips from your entrance. Rubs circles on your clit. Encourages more . Watches as it seeps from you. Presses his hips upwards to let you know he's still fucking solid for you. He gathers your leaking slick on his index and middle finger, then pushes it back into you.

He's panting, too.

And so you smirk. Watch the pained lust in his eyes. Tell him, "do better," in a hushed whisper.

He's slow. Lets his touches linger. Doesn't pump into you like he had been - instead, he scissors his fingers ever so gently - and that's when you decide he's a menace to society and that you're probably doing the world a favour by keeping him off the streets for a little while longer.

"Holy shit," you hiss, and then your fingers are wrapped around his wrist again. He fucking laughs.

His nose nuzzles into your hair, his smirk not hiding his teeth. He's thinking about kissing you again. Just a small one. On the side of your head. Has to talk just to stop himself.

"That better, Byeol?"

All you can do is whine. Nod a little.

"Can't hear you. I asked a question. Give me an answer," he teases. "Now, is this better, Byeol?"

"No," you lie. "Considerably worse."

"Fine," he says, and pulls out. Grips your thighs with his soaked fingers. Squeezes them together. Lets you pant for a little while. He's panting, too. "On your knees."

"Sorry?"

"You will be," he smirks, changing his position behind you. "Get on your knees."

And so you do. You relinquish trust to him. Feel like you might have a heart attack from how fast it's beating - but he knows this. Strokes the curve of your hip. Hugs you into his chest ever so slightly and says, "the minute it gets too much, or you decide you've done enough... just say the word, Byeol."

He nuzzles his nose against your hair. Likes the way it smells. Hugs you a little tighter, still.

You nod. "At least tell me how you want me, first?"

It's the mental preparation you need, much more than physical. He knows this. Knows that his teasing has a time and a place. What was okay a few moments ago would be too brash now - so he tries a little tenderness once more.

He waits for you to look at him. Not in the mirror this time, but head turned, eyes on his. The glitter on your eyes catches in the light. Reflects in his eyes. Puts stars in them.

"On your front. Head down," he says slowly, not wanting it to sound crude. "Ass up. Or just flat on your front, if you'd rather. Up to you. Wait-" He stands, holding out his hand for you to take. When you do, he pulls you up and guides you to his bed instead. Lets you sit. He still stands. "Just realised I was asking you to be facedown on the literal floor. My bad."

You don't say anything, just smile at the fact he realised it. Such a boy, and yet such a gent. He's trouble, there's no doubt about it. As your eyes study his face, he seems sincere - and so you turn. Lean forward. Stretch out. Face down, ass up.

"Fuck," he hisses and gets on his knees behind you. One of his hands grapples at your ass, fingers sinking into the peachy flesh. He strokes against the soft skin, and then asks, "how do you feel about spanking?"

You smirk into his sheets. Plunge even further into them. Raise your ass even higher. "It's not on the bird."

His fingers dig further into your cheek. You're mewling. He's getting delirious again. "Byeol..."

The way you move your hips ever so slightly is absolute sin . You know you're trying to make him crack. You know it's working. "Mhmm?"

He pulls you back. Presses the bulge in his trousers against you. He's still hard. Harder, even. His hands are on your hips, keeping you close, even as he retracts - before pulling you tight to him. Repeats. Ruts himself against you a couple more times.

"If one of those birds doesn't end with me fucking you-"

"You'll what?" you say with a sardonic smile as you twist your body around and out of his grasp. You're on your back now, reaching for his shirt, pulling him down.

He complies. Tangles his legs with yours. Lets his hand cup your heat. Toys with you. Teases.

"What will you do, huh?" You flirt. "Die?"

He smirks now, too. Knows that you're taking the piss. Quite likes it. Likes that you remember the shit he says when he gets too horny for his own good.

"Maybe," he husks, sinking his fingers inside you again. Didn't even get to have you how he wanted you, but he likes this. Likes the flirt. Likes how erratic your breathing gets.

"Guess you'll just have to - fuck - keep waiting for them to fall," you turn a little. Hook your leg over his hip. Grind against him. Ride his fingers. "See if you get what you want."

"I'm incredibly patient," he lies. Builds the speed he's fucking them into you at. Uses the hand that's not bringing you closer and closer to climax to hold your chin. Wants to keep you looking at him.

"Liar."

"I'll do this for hours if it means making you cum," he almost snarls over the sound of your moans.

You laugh. Stutter on the moans in your throat. Tell him good luck. Let him know that you can't remember the last time someone else made you orgasm. You can do it yourself, easy. Someone else? Good fucking luck.

"Fine. We're gonna make you cum," he says as if it's a group activity - but then he drops his grip from your chin and reaches to the hand of yours that had been hooked over his shoulder. Guides it to your pussy. "Get yourself off."

You stare at him for a moment. His pace eases, but his gaze doesn't drop. He's slow. Rubs at you just in the right way. And then he says, "get yourself off while I'm inside you."

You say nothing. Do as you're told.

"Good girl."

It doesn't take long. If anything, it's embarrassing how quickly he has you coming undone. Admittedly, you're just as much a part of it as he is. Without your input, maybe he would have had to have been going for hours.

But you are involved, and you're shaking around him. Legs trembling. Toes pointed. Head buried into his chest, fingers wrapped around his wrist to stop him from overstimulating you too much. His name escapes your lips as your orgasm ripples through your muscles, and Jeongguk just fucking laughs.

"So fuckin' hot," he praises, lips pouty, in desperate need of a kiss to offset the fact he's practically leaking precum into his pants.

Rules are rules, though. They're not made to be broken. Not these ones.

He withdraws from you, and wipes the mess on his sheets. Will deal with it later. Watches you as you giggle to yourself, orgasm well and truly delivered. When your eyes open and focus on him, Jeongguk is pleased. You look content.

"I'm still scared," you simper. "We might have to practise that one a few times."

He laughs now, too. Rolls onto his back. Can smell your arousal on his fingers. Has never been more hungry in his entire life.

"Such a liar."

But you both are, in your own ways.

"Maybe. Thank you... for that," you say, very aware of the unfair dynamics of just you getting off, but knowing that without a fallen bird to specify it, there's no way you can just reciprocate.

"Pleasures all mine," he says, as if he isn't letting himself get severely blue-balled. Knows what the agreement is though. You getting him off now would be just for his benefit. He laments the fact he's not scared of blowjobs. Wishes all of his birds were like yours, now.

The silence consumes you both. Has you wondering why you never come undone like that normally. Makes you think maybe you need to stop preventing people from touching you in such a way. Jimin had tried. You can remember - but you'd dismissed him.

He's not the only person you've dismissed in such a way. Perhaps you will enjoy casual sex more if you don't keep your desires at bay. Maybe Jeongguk's been right about this all along.

"Anyways," you turn to face him. "Phone."

"Hmm?"

"Well, we've done my bird. We need to do yours from earlier."

Jeongguk says nothing. Is a little bit confused. He's still hard. You've barely come down from your orgasm. Surely nows not the time?

You couldn't disagree more even if you tried. It's the perfect time. Stops you from thinking about how fucking good that was, and how much you want it to happen again.

"You... want me to invite a girl round?"

"Well, not while I'm still here" you consider. "Like, text them now, but arrange it for another time."

"Yeah, but-" Jeongguk wants to protest. Wants to remind you that his sheets are covered in you. Instead, he just looks at the ceiling, a little baffled.

"If it's too much, why don't you just text a girl, at least?"

He frowns. You don't notice, because you're looking at the ceiling, too.

But then he sighs. Maybe you're right. Maybe he is being a coward.

"Alright," he reaches for his phone from the nightstand. Unlocks it, and opens up his Instagram DMs. Looks over to you. Catches your gaze. Smiles, despite the uneasy feeling in his stomach. "What do I say?"

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

#jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic

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dandylovesturtles · 7 months

Note

Donnie and Raph treat

I didn't really have anywhere to state this exactly but this is set pre-canon, Raph is 13 and Donnie is 12 here.

---

Raph's halfway through his workout when someone knocks on the wall outside his room. "Buzz off!" he yells.

The knocking becomes more insistent. He grits his teeth, not putting his weights down.

"Whatever it is, deal with it yourself."

"Oh Raphala," comes Donnie's voice through the curtain. "I require the assistance of my one and only older brother."

Raph sighs and puts the weight down, getting to his feet and yanking the curtain back with a snap.

"Someone better be dyin'," he says, before his eyes trail down from Donnie's face to the ziploc baggie he's holding in his hands. "...Is that hair?"

"Fur, to be precise. Rat fur." Donnie shuffles his feet. "...Splinter's fur."

Raph drags a hand down his face. "What did you do?"

"Well, I've been testing my new DNA analyzer. And Papa wouldn't give me a sample of his fur, so I thought I would procure one myself while he was taking his post-milk and cake nap, and... it would seem I... miscalculated and cut too much." He half-bows, imploringly. "I need your help to fix it."

"Yeeeaaah, this doesn't sound like my problem," says Raph, turning to go back into his room.

"Raph, wait! If Splinter finds out about this, he won't take me to the junkyard later! And I need parts for my new battleshell!"

"Still not my problem!"

"You're really going to abandon your little brother to his fate?"

"Yep."

"...Well, I didn't want to do this, but you leave me no choice: I'm telling Dad who broke his life-size Lou Jitsu cardboard cutout."

Raph whirls on him. "You swore to secrecy!"

Donnie crosses his arms. "That was before you turned me away in my hour of need, brother."

"...Argh, fine!" Raph waves Donnie forward. "Let's see the damage."

Immediately, Donnie is smiling. "Thank you for your cooperation."

Raph follows him to where Splinter is asleep in his chair, his snores echoing through the room. On his forehead is a very noticeable bald patch, jagged and uneven from Donnie's hack job.

"Why did you need to get so much!?" hisses Raph, voice low.

"I wanted to run several tests," Donnie answers, doing a terrible job at volume control. Thankfully, Splinter is too deep under to rouse at that.

"You couldn't just take it from his back!?"

Donnie holds up a finger and opens his mouth, then seems to think it over. Raph watches the gears turn, impatient.

"...An excellent suggestion that I'll remember for the future."

"Fine, whatever." Raph rubs at his temple, trying to think of a solution. He's too young for the wrinkles he's already getting. "Look, just... go to Mikey's room and grab some duct tape, then go to the bathroom and get that fancy hair gel Pops says he's saving for a special occasion."

"Duct tape, hair gel. Got it."

Donnie retrieves the items quickly enough, and Raph puts his plan into action. He folds the tape in a circle and presses it gently to the bald patch on Splinter's forehead, careful not to wake him. Then he sticks all the fur he can onto the tape. It doesn't all stick, but enough does that the spot is... mostly covered. Then he uses the hair gel to slick all the hair on Splinter's head down, so it's laying flat to match the taped part.

"There," he says when he steps back to admire his work. "It looks, uh... good?"

"I guess... it's not obvious... from a distance," says Donnie, uncertain.

"Look, it's just gonna have to work, because-"

"Mmwah... Purple? Red?"

Raph and Donnie both jump as their father wakes up, looking at them both suspiciously. "Why does my forehead feel... wet?"

"Oh, that's, uh... Donnie and I were just... givin' you a makeover!" says Raph quickly.

"What? Is that what we're going wi-" Raph elbows him quick in the side, and Donnie hisses a breath in before standing straighter and nodding. "Ah, yes! A makeover. That is definitely what we were doing, no ulterior motives here."

Splinter looks between them, his suspicion still evident. "A makeover...?"

"Uh, yeah!" Raph casts his gaze around, then grabs the first reflective surface he sees - an old hubcap they were using as a frisbee the other day. He lifts it, holding it out for Splinter. "See? Looks great!"

"Hmmm..." Splinter leans in, tilting his head this way and that in the improvised mirror. Raph holds his breath, and he can feel Donnie doing the same next to him.

"...Ahhh, I see!" says Splinter at last, grinning, and Raph sinks in relief. "I look even more handsome now. Thank you, sweet boys!"

"Heh, glad you like it, Pops!"

"I like it very much. I will look veeery spiffy for our trip to the junkyard." He looks at Donnie, still grinning as he tosses the hubcap aside. "Speaking of, I'll be ready to go soon, Purple."

"Yessss," says Donnie, doing some happy wiggles with his hands. Splinter nods at both of them, then hopes down from his chair and heads toward his room.

Raph watches until he's gone, then lets out a sigh of relief. "Can't believe he bought tha- oof."

He's cut off by Donnie suddenly throwing himself against his plastron, arms wrapping around him as much as possible. Raph can't help the rush of surprise at the gesture; Donnie hugs are rarer and rarer these days.

It's nice. Raph wraps his arms around Donnie and gives him a quick squeeze, only as tight as Donnie will allow, and thinks that maybe he doesn't mind helping him.

(In the end, his little brothers have him wrapped around their fingers.)

"Thanks, Raph," says Donnie when he lets go.

"Heh, yeah, yeah, just don't do it again." Raph shakes his head at him.

"I won't," says Donnie, and Raph knows that's absolutely a lie but doesn't call him on it. He glances back in the direction their dad went, and grimaces. "What are we going to do when he showers, though?"

"Let's just hope he forgets about this by then..."

...

It's the next morning when Splinter walks into the kitchen, still a bit damp from his shower and wearing one of his fluffier robes. Leo snorts as soon as he catches sight of their dad, bits of his frosted flakes spraying the counter.

"I didn't know rats got receding hairlines," he says, and Splinter glares up at him from the floor.

"What are you talking about, Blue?"

"I'm talking about your bad combover job," Leo says, his grin huge. "Come on, Dad, we're all bald, just own it."

Splinter frowns at him, reaching up to touch his head. "You are talking nonsense, Blue. I am not... not..."

He freezes when he touches the bald patch. Raph catches Donnie's eyes, but luckily Leo and Mikey are too busy looking at Splinter to notice their expressions.

"What... what has happened to my hair!?" Splinter yells, before running back out of the room. Leo cackles after him, and Mikey joins in with laughs of his own.

Donnie and Raph look at each other again, then both decide to become very interested in their cereal.

"BLUE!" Splinter comes back into the room like a whirlwind, leaping onto the table and smacking Leo across the wrists with his tail ("Ow!"). "What did you do to my hair!?"

"I didn't do anything!" Leo protests, but Splinter isn't having it.

"This is not a funny prank! You are grounded!"

"What!? But I really didn't do it!"

"No comics, no TV, no going to the surface!" Splinter continues, ignoring his pleas. "Not until my hair grows back!"

He storms out of the room, and Leo gets up and scrambles after him, continuing to protest his innocence.

Donnie crams one more big bite of his Cheerios into his mouth before looking at his bare wrist and saying, "Oh geez, is that the time? I have to go do something somewhere that isn't here." Then he flees the kitchen.

Mikey looks in the direction Leo and Splinter went. Then he looks in the direction Donnie went. Then he looks at Raph.

Grinning.

Raph sighs.

"There's ten bucks in my teddy bear stash."

"Thank you!" says Mikey in a sing-song, hopping off his stool and disappearing toward their bedrooms.

Raph runs his hands over his face.

Definitely wrapped around their fingers.

#dandy trick or treat #rottmnt #rise donnie #rise raph #don't worry they made it up to leo later #or maybe he just got his revenge #either way he'll be fine

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arvensimp · 1 year

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You writing is amazing, you capture the character personality so well.

I found an secret beach while playing pokemon scarlet and I was wonder what will a beach date with arven look like? What swimsuit will he wear? Reaction to our swimsuit? What activity will arven and reader do?

Thank you! Also, ooh! Where is it? I found a secret lil cave by the ocean just between the glacedo mountain and the orange foresty area north of the lake that I thought was pretty cool. Is the secret beach the one north of the lighthouse on the west coast? Also forgive me for not replying to a comment if you leave one! I check all my posts for tags and comments constantly, but since this is a side blog, I'm not able to reply from here. Just know that I love everything y'all say!! If you ever want to chat my inbox is open. :)

Beach Episode

Arven x reader, no gendered pronouns

When you excitedly tell Arven about the secret beach you've discovered and offer it up as a potential date destination, he is delighted. You can count on him to take care of all the planning. Truth be told he's happier that way. "Too many cooks in the kitchen," as it were. You just need to worry about driving the lizard in the right direction and picking a nice bathing suit.

When you arrive, before you even start unpacking together, he examines the area and whistles, fists on his hips.

"This is pretty nice! Not that I doubted you, of course, but usually an untouched beach is way less sandy and much more rocky and uneven than this, I'd think. Good going!"

From there, the two of you set out a massive beach blanket, big enough for both of you and a few pokemon to lounge about on. Next come the umbrellas to provide a bit of shade, as well as the folding table to house the snacks and coolers.

Arven really goes all out when he has time to prep.

Once all the set up is done in terms of the "picnic site," Arven goes ahead and changes into his swimwear. He wears just basic trunks, nothing terribly fancy, but they do have a floette print similar to that of his phone case.

He doesn't outwardly make a huge deal out of anything you wear, not thinking it's appropriate, but he's really happy to see you in your swimsuit.

Before you rush into the water, he does get a little blushy. "We need to make sure we get some sunscreen on before we get into the water, okay? I-I can help you, if you like? Not to be weird or anything."

You, of course, happily accept his help, and squirm and giggle at the cold sensation of the cream before he rubs it into your back and shoulders.

You also help him apply his own sunscreen. He pulls his hair out of the way for you, and you get to basically give him a little mini back massage as you rub him down. Arven sighs and relaxes against you as you work...

Once you're all SPF'd up, you release your pokemon from their balls, and it's basically a free for all! You spend as much time playing in the sand and surf as you like.

Arven basically plays along with whatever games you're down for. He didn't really get to play much in the water as a kid, so he's happy to learn how you did it when you were little.

You also build a couple of sandcastles together with your pokemon, being careful to respectfully knock them down before you abandon them, just in case they turn into sandyghasts.

As with any date with Arven, the main event is the food.

Your man has packed all the best for your little group of Pokemon, and then for the two of you he has fresh squeezed fruit juices, along with some pastries, sandwiches, and a surprisingly delicious pasta salad that kept super well in his new cooler that he has been really eager to try out!

The date does eventually end around the time it gets dark, but you're able to spend a nice amount of quality time snuggled up on the blankets, cuddling and exchanging soft kisses before you go.

#arven fanfic #arven x reader #arven pokemon #trainer arven #arven #rival arven

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lowkeyrobin · 2 months

Note

Hiii its the anon that asked for cellbit last time Back Again To Request More Cellbit!!

Maybe cellbit hyping up reader who just started streaming? :D (also i love your writing So Much omg)

hiii omg I missed you!! I love this prompt 🙏🙏 ; thank you for the compliment!! I appreciate it a lot 🫶🫶

CELLBIT ; stream starting soon

summary ; he hypes you up :)

warnings ; language, cringe, pet names (darling)

genre ; fluff

word count ; 737

masterlist

"Are you gonna stream tonight, darling?" Cellbit stands in the doorway, looking over at you while you sit at your desk, designing a new stream starting soon page.

You shrug, "Maybe. I wanna get this done first, animation was never my strong suit" You reply, clicking your tongue as you flip to the next frame to color.

He nods, stepping closer to get a better look, standing beside you. "Looks great so far"

You shrug again and mumble, "It's super choppy, I don't really like it"

He crouches down a bit, reaching your eye level, "I think it's amazing, and I love the color scheme. It doesn't matter if it's not over a thousand frames per second, Y/n/n. You should do whatever makes you happy and satisfied though, you dont have to stream because I suggested you might like it"

"I do want to, I just don't know what I'm doing and I don't know what people think of me" You say, placing your headphones down on the desk next to your keyboard so you can properly listen to him.

He tilts his head a bit, his facial muscles relaxing to talk to you a little more softly. "Well, I think, no, I know-" He says, correcting himself, "-that people think think you're a wonderful, kind, and most importantly, gorgeous person"

You're unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips as you reply to him. "Shut up, Cell"

"What? Why? Cause you're scared of the truth?" He teases, running a hand through his hair again.

"Nuh-uh"

"Yeah-huh!" He chuckles, "You're the most beautiful, caring, compassionate, truthful, and loyal person I've ever met. I, ever since I met you, have been convinced that some supernatural force sent you to me because you're the light of my life."

"Be quiet," You chuckle, hiding your face in your hands.

"No! You need to know how much your fans and I all love you." He smiles with a light chuckle, standing in between your legs as he wraps his arms around you, embracing you in a hug.

You accept the gesture, sitting forward in your chair a bit for him to not fall on top of you because of the uneven weight ratio as he was pushing back on your chair a bit before. He rubs your back as you hold on to him tightly, taking some deep breaths to calm yourself down a bit.

He pulls away once he hears you exhale for the last time and gives you a light smile. "Everyone adores you, at least I do, and you're gonna be an epic streamer just like yours truly." He giggles. "I do think you should put us in the Seedot art style in the corner, though"

"Oh my God, I should've thought of that! I knew it looked to blank! Thank you!"

He smiles, seeing you get to work on drawing the two of you for your new stream starting soon page. You animated a little bit of choppy movement and some hearts above you guys, floating so high that they popped at the top of the screen.

Once you finished, which he grabbed a nearby chair to watch you work on, he gave you a round of applause and a kiss on the cheek. He was trying to hype you up, also because you were planning to go live right after and play Jackbox with him, Quackity, Roier, Philza, and Charlie Slimecicle. You hadn't talked to them much, but you knew enough that they were all cool people, and you'd be happy enough to stream with them and get to know them and their humor some more.

"Told you it looks great." He cheesily smiles next to you, resting a hand on your shoulder as you sit back. "Do you need me to do a silly dance to make you a little more happy?"

You roll your eyes, staying silent as you cross your arms and pout. He stands up, turns your LED lights to the changing/multicolor setting, changes the tab to your Spotify, and plays a song to dance and sing along too. He spins your chair around and yells out compliments to you frequently before you start laughing with him, joining in on his antics.

"I'm hyping you up so much right now!" Cellbit smiles, spinning you around the room.

You laugh, "You sound like a Millennial using Gen-Z humor, stop!"

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #quackity x reader #qsmp x reader #cellbit x reader #cellbit #qsmp cellbit #gn reader #gender neutral reader

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kieran-granola · 6 months

Note

Hi saw your ask for kink prompts so.

Jaytim with CNC, bloodplay/scarification or them making their own sex tape. Any one or a mix works, I just wanted to give you options :)

When Tim picked up the scalpel, he thought it would be harder to keep his hand steady. He had braced himself for imperfect lines and uneven contours. He’d forced himself to make his peace with the unavoidable messiness of parting flesh, the unpredictable chaos of living canvas.

He needn’t have bothered.

Jason is almost perfectly still under him. His chest remains as steady as can be through every shallow breath he takes. Despite the pain he must be in, he doesn’t so much as twitch when the blade meets his skin.

Tim honors his discipline with a matching degree of control. Every incision is precise. Deep enough for red flowers to bloom across the vast expanse of Jason’s back, but shallow enough not to cause too much damage.

Of course, Tim will have to force Jason's skin into scarring properly over the next few weeks. The pattern is doomed to smudge a little in the process, to twist itself into knots. But the neater the base, the more likely it is that the end result will look good. And so Tim takes his time. He doesn’t linger, but he drags his blade slowly and carefully over the pattern he’s projecting on Jason’s skin.

It must be agony — a mixture of pain at the tearing of flesh, discomfort at the slowly drying blood, and tense anticipation. Still, Jason doesn't let out a single sound of protest. There's tension in the line of his shoulders, but the way he bites his lip looks more rapturous than tortured. As usual, he takes what Tim gives him with an ease that makes Tim's heart feel three sizes bigger.

Throat feeling tight with adoration, Tim finishes his work. He calmly wipes down his scalpel, then he pauses to admire his handiwork. The twists and whorls of the bloody mural he pressed into Jason's back look divine on his bronze skin.

For a second, Tim lets himself imagine what he'd do if he were an irresponsible master. He pictures himself licking the salt out of Jason's wounds. Rutting between the mounds of his ass and mixing his come with the blood dripping down his back. Sinking his fingers into the exposed parts of him and scratching at his bones until Jason loses his voice screaming.

Instead, he kisses Jason's nape softly. "You did so well, darling," he murmurs. "You're such a good boy."

Jason shivers from head to toe and closes his eyes, but he doesn't move.

Tim smiles. "I'm going to clean your back now. Then I'll bandage you up. And once I'm done, you'll get your reward. Alright, darling?"

"Yes, sir," Jason answers, voice low and broken. He sounds wrecked.

Tim lets out a shuddering breath and adjusts his pants before moving to do exactly as he said. He rubs antibacterial soap over Jason's wounds, following the same path he took while cutting into him. He rinses his back and pats it dry, before coating it with antiseptic ointment. Then, he loosely covers Jason's back with medical cling wrap and secures it with medical tape.

Once he's done, he discards his gloves, before helping Jason sit up.

Jason complies awkwardly. He looks like he's not entirely there. Every movement seems to be delayed, slow and graceless. His cheeks are red, his mouth swollen after the abuse he subjected it to while Tim was working on him. His hair is stuck to his temples with sweat.

Tim thinks he's never been more beautiful.

With an encouraging smile, he drops to his knees between Jason's legs and squeezes his thighs. He looks forward to taking care of him for the next few weeks.

But first, his boy has more than earned his prize.

#jaytim #jason todd #tim drake #scarification #this might be softer than what you wanted #scarification is such sweet devotion though #i couldn't resist #kieran writes

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akkkkollle · 2 years

Note

The same sex with Izana in the bathtub from your headcannons? -😇

Pairing: Izana × Mean!M!Reader.

Cw: bathroom sex, teasing, a little humiliation and praise, daddy (1 time), threats (comic, in your direction), denial of orgasm.

The warm water touched your skin. And you definitely understood now that there is nothing better than a warm bath after a hard day. Well, and of course your boyfriend on your lap in the bathroom, too. It made your day even better.

Your hands gently ran through his white, wet hair, from which he sometimes sighed a little. Pleasant feelings overwhelmed you both. And everything would be fine if you didn't feel too active movement in your lap. You sighed softly, knowing perfectly well what he wants.

- Izana, can you stop fidgeting? - you asked, ceasing to move your hand over his head, which made him whine.

- And what? - he asked, returning your hand to his head. - Can't you hold back?

He moved on your lap, now sitting facing you, still pressing your hand to his slightly fluffy hair from moisture, waiting for movements. But you didn't move, so he moved on your lap. A soft moan escaped his lips when he felt your dick harden under him. You just pursed your lips, waiting for what would happen next.

And then... Oh, yeah.

- Well, Daddy, fuck me already. he said with his usual slightly insane expression. - Or I'll do it myself...

Not wanting to give him the dominant role, knowing full well that he planned it, you lifted his body over your dick. He bit his lip and grabbed your shoulders, squeezing them slightly. You lower his body, which causes his voice to crack slightly when he feels that stretch, which he has been missing lately.

- So what? I won't fuck you. - you say, smiling meanly. - So do it yourself.

- what? You—! - you jerk your hips, which makes his voice and he moans, feeling how you immediately hit the right place.

He looks at you angrily, which makes your grin even bigger. It makes his cheeks turn red, he always liked it when you show strong dominance, although he will never tell you about it. His hips get comfortable and he starts bouncing on them, which is a little difficult because of the water, but he doesn't care. It's just you and him that matters right now.

You lick your lips, looking at the picture in front of you. His white hair stuck to his face from moisture, his beautiful eyes rolled to the back of his head with pleasure, his pink tongue slightly falls out from behind his mouth, and his chocolate thighs, which have a couple of bruises and bites from last night, bounce over your cock.

- You know, you look like a slut right now. - he closes his eyes and a soft moan escapes from his throat. - Oh, do you like being humiliated? Nice.

-I-I'm going to kill you, y-you idiot. If you don't shut up, agh, I'll wring your neck, and then—Oh, b-bastard! - you jerk your hips again, making his voice get higher and higher by the second.

His moans suddenly become louder, and his jumps are uneven and have lost pace. You just smile at your own thought when you look at your boyfriend's dick bouncing under the water. Your arm wraps around him right at the moment when Izana is about to shout your name. And your other hand rests on his thigh so that he does not move. His eyes widen and tears appear in them, his voice literally breaks when he starts begging you to cum. But you're not listening, you're just estimating how much water has spilled out of the bathroom.

- Nah, handsome, you won't finish... here. - you mumble, making the white-haired man groan with disappointment. - Just get off my cock and let's go to the room, otherwise I think we'll flood the neighbors... We didn't have enough cops yet.

He looks at the floor, and then turns a sulky look at you. Oh no, you're not leaving here anytime soon, even if he has to sacrifice all of his orgasms today. You're gonna fuck him here. And he will provide it.

#top male reader #dom male reader #seme male reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #Tokrev x male reader #x male reader #sub tokrev #sub tokyo revengers #Sub izana #Izana x male reader #Izana smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokrev smut

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fauville · 2 months

Note

Nate seems like such a kiss on the tip of the nose guy if you think that would fit Nate/Charlie ?

thank you for the prompt!! 🩷 @agentnatesewell mentioned about charlie cutting nate's hair in the tags of this fic. so here's charlie giving a not-so-bad haircut to Nate, lol

in ao3.

★ ★ ★

The click of the scissors is loud with his vampiric hearing, but he's focusing on the tune she's humming under her breath while she cuts the ends of his hair. It's a habit Charlie has-- humming songs when she's focusing deeply into something. It's an endearing trait and Nate loves her for everything that she is.

As much as he's enjoying the moment shared with Charlie, he is also a bit worried, truth to be told. For his hair.

He's been letting it grow for almost a year and it’s now longer than Charlie's own chin-length bob. Long hair is not his usual style, hasn't been in several centuries, but even a 300 year old vampire needs a change sometimes. He certainly enjoys the way Charlie keeps playing with his hair, sometimes finger combing through the silky strands and plaiting them into a small braid against his neck, before bed.

But now the time has come for a haircut and Charlie is definitely no barber. Her fingers are shaking a little, which makes Nate inwardly wince with every cut she makes, but he’s keeping as still as possible and doesn't voice his concerns on Charlie’s unpracticed scissor handling. She assured him he wouldn't end up completely bald at the very least.

He closes his eyes and focuses on Charlie's voice as she starts telling him about her day, the lone rabbit she saw on her way to the warehouse and the gothic horror novel she's working on. He listens carefully, drinking every word that slips from her mouth. There's still so many things he doesn't know about her, and he wants ever so desperately to know them all.

After an endless half an hour, Charlie claps her hands on his shoulders and Nate opens his eyes slowly. Charlie finally gives him an old and small silver hand mirror, and he looks at himself in the looking glass. Blinks.

His new haircut is… not that bad. It's a little choppy and some parts of it are uneven (there's a stubborn little curly strand on Nate's forehead that Charlie keeps trying to smoothen with her finger) but she clearly tried her best and that’s enough for Nate.

She will always be enough just as she is.

“Thank you, ya rouhi. I could ask for no finer barber in all of Wayhaven,” he says with a small chuckle, his words coming out as utterly sincere instead of teasing, as he hands the old mirror back to her with care.

Charlie’s smile is so genuine it makes something in Nate ache with longing. She puts the mirror on a side table and presses a fond kiss to the tip of his nose. He wrinkles it and pulls her into his lap and she laughs loudly when he presses his own kiss to her forehead.

He will always treasure that laugh like the gift it is.

#twc #the wayhaven chronicles #nate sewell #nate x detective #twc fanfic #vilna writes #oc: charlotte

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not-a-big-slay · 2 years

Text

Jigsaw

kaz brekker x gn! reader

inspired by Jigsaw by Conan Gray

summary: being in a one-sided competition with your sister for the same man makes you want to change into her.

warnings: angst, alcohol, breakdown, kaz being an ass lmao, commenting on weight (not really tho)

a/n: heyy! i love conan and this song is on repeat in my head, so i decided to write this. i labeled the reader gender neutral, because there is no prounouns used for y/n. there is a part where reader is choosing a dress,but i do not think that clothes have gender and anyone can wear them and anyone can have a long hair. i hope i did this song justice and enjoy :)

PS: yes, until it doesn't hurt is coming. either tommorow or the day after.

part 2

Kaz Brekker. A name that brought fear to many people. A scar painted on the few fools that wronged him. A man without mercy or emotions, not worth loving. Still, you would anything for him. Anything so he could just look your way. Your way, not your sister's way, even if hers was a regular destination for his eyes.

You woke up everyday, looking into a mirror and pointing out even the smallest difference you shared with her. Your face was full of pimples and imperfections while hers was smooth as a silk, your eyes small, decorated often with eyebags and hers being big and nude. When these things couldn't be changed, no matter how hard you tried, there were differences you could take care of. Your long hair, touching your lower back could be shorten into hers, softly touching her shoulders. Your clothes, barely styled and always dark could change into hers, classy and bright. So, one night, after the Slat fell silent, you snuck into the kitchen slowly, not to make any noise, and found a pair of scissors that were meant to end your insecurities.

It was a messy process and your hair ended up uneven, but once you dressed into bright shit with white pants, you could see yourself looking more like your sibling. Your confidence was through the roof. You even made your hair shorter than your sister's, it barely touched the shoulders. When you entered the hallway the person all this trouble was for walked past you, but he noticed you first. The up and down look fastened your breathing as you awaited for his reaction.

"What happened to your hair?"

"I cut it"

"Why?"

His tone sounded judging and that both hurt you and pissed you off. You were doing it all for him even though he didn't have the slightest idea, but they were still your choices and when he criticized that, it angered you. You hated when someone put you down, trying to make you feel bad and you often blew up, sometimes without a reason, and defended yourself.

"I wanted to. What? You don't like it?"

He scoffed: "Does it matter?"

He walked off, but left you frozen. Of course it mattered. You walked down trying not to think much about. Others really liked your look after they saw it, your sister was over the top happy and showered you with compliments, nevertheless, none of it would be as fulfilling as it would be from him. As it should be from him.

Soon you carried on with your tasks for the day, one of them being grocery shopping with Jesper. Jesper was someone you were closest to in the Dregs, he never made you feel bad about anything, but you still never told him about your love for the boss. He would try and convince you to stop changing every part of yourself to fit him and you knew you would listen to him, you weren't ready to give up yet, your sister was still ahead of you without her knowing. Just as you two went out the door, Kaz appeared behind you. Jesper looked as confused as you did, Kaz only rolled his eyes: "I don't trust Jesper with money. He gambles away everything and I don't trust you with remembering the shop list. You forget everything."

He began to lead the way, offended Jesper followed behind and you were closing the line, repeating in your head that he didn't mean anything by it, trying to wash away the unnessesary pain his statement spilled. An hour on the market filled almost everything out of the list. You knew the boys went to get the last of things so you allowed yourself to get lost in the beautiful dresses being sold for a fair price. The lady selling them was awfully nice and kept showing you more and more dresses. "These would bring out your eyes." she stated confidently and showed you a beige dress. You smiled and took them into your hands, feeling the fabric, imagining you dancing in them.

"I don't remember having that on the list."

The voice startled you and you turned your head around, catching a glimpse of Kaz. You turned back to the dress, not being finished with the imaginations. "Maybe you forgot. Like I always do." you said out of the remaining anger and smiled at the lady. Just as you were about to tell her to pack the dress for you, Kaz had to have a last word after all: "Don't buy it. It wouldn't fit you."

You quickly turned around, shocked by his insult. Your first thought was to send him to the depths of hell or slap him, yet you thought about what would your sister say. Probably laugh or agree with him ironically. You had to be kind like her, otherwise he wouldn't be interested. That was another difference between you and your sister. She was always so kind, sweet and optimistic, but you took kindness as a weakness and reality as it was and didn't try to paint it colorful when it's meant to be dark. "Right. Sorry." you said to him and the woman. She looked dissapointed, but nodded regardless and thanked you. You and Kaz left and invited silence among you, until Jesper caught up and started talking immediately. You tried to listen, but no words could compete with Kaz's.

‎ ‎

The crows can't go long without a heist and so now you were walking towards a meeting point, taking another glass of champagne from a tray. The clothes you wore were tight, bringing out your figure and curves. While your friends insisted on you looking stunning, your newly found insecurity was infecting you. Kaz's comment last week didn’t dissapear over night as you hoped and was affecting the way you saw yourself. You looked around to see if the way is clear and made your way over to Kaz. He looked like he waited for a long time for you. His new suit specially bought for this heist made him look like the men in power you all were fighting against, you almost mistook him for the man you were stealing a diamond from.

"So what's the plan?" you asked, pulling the fabric of your clothes far from your skin, trying to make it loose. You knew you couldn't handle another comment on your body, but when Kaz spoke, he maintained eye contact, not forced one. "We'll sneak to the treasure room, I'll look for the diamond and you'll be on the look out.". Your eyebrows furrowed, you could do so much more than that. "Are you sure? I could help you look for the diamond, I mean it won't be easy to find, plus it'll look suspicious to just stand in front of the doors. No one will suspect we're inside if they are closed and abandoned." you voiced your disagreement and hoped to change his mind. You were too good for a lookout.

"Then don't look suspicious. Yera will meet us there and help me look for it. I just need you for an emergency."

Once you heard your sister's name, your eyebrows disconnected. What help would be bigger than help from the perfection herself. So you did as you were told. You walked around the mansion, not distancing from the door too much. It took them long to get the diamond, you had to take another liquer in your palm. You imagined that they spent less time on finding the diamond and more time doing something you couldn't bring yourself to think of. Even though Kaz had a touch aversion, you could see him someday overcome it for her. That made you lean back onto a wall and let tears roll down your face. Luckily, the hallway you were present in was empty, so you didn't bring unrequiered attention on yourself. It was funny, almost comical. The things making you cry were only in your head and you couldn't prove they were real, but you knew that a small part, maybe the smallest one, was true. He did like her. He had to. They were such a good friends. You saw her leaving his room sometimes. She looked so happy that you would never believe they discussed business. She liked him. Definitely. She always teased him and made fun of him, but her smile, her bright warm smile, betrayed her insults. She complimented him and his heart that other Dregs were often surprised she's still in the gang and called her naive.

It hurted like hell. You only smiled at him sarcastically, insulted him only with his own insults used against you. You would never pay him a compliment, not a sincere one at least. You always liked him and only did these things for fun, however now you think it might have been taken too far and the hate you used to pretend was real on his side. You were letting more and more tears run down your cheeks until you couldn't stand anymore. First sob that broke through you was followed by another and a moment later you had a complete breakdown, your only luck used on keeping the hall lonely.

You were lost in your thoughts and cries that you almost missed the bell, announcing the time of your escape. It also reminded you that Kaz and Yera should have find the diamond already. You quickly got up, bottling up the emotions that didn't have the opporturnity to show up. When you arrived in front of the treasure room, your tears were gone and your eyes dry, like nothing ever happened.

When Yera noticed you, she seemed relieved, her smile felt warmer than it often did thanks to the green silk dress decorating her beauty. Kaz on the other hand looked mad. "Since when I'm supposed to wait for the lookout. Where the hell have you been." he limped closer to you and you already built up your walls. Being polite as your sister went out of the window. "I was trying to be here and not look suspicious, but that's quite hard when you can't find a diamond in a room full of gold. Had to improvise.". You put on your cold face and walked in the direction Inej instructed to escape. They caught up with you and soon you saw your friends out, waiting for the three of you.

‎

The success was celebrated by drinking and when 3 bells after midnight rang, you could definitely call yourself the biggest celebrator. Moments went by you fast as one second you were singing with Jesper and Nina and the other you couldn't lift your head from the bar. The intrusive thoughts weighted you when you saw your sister leaving upstairs after saying goodnight. You could imagine her going to the only person not celebrating. You hated him for that. Kaz never joined you and the crows for drinks and when he rarely did, he left after few shots. You snorted and got up from the counter. Drunkenness infected the eyes and your vision moved very quickly from one side of the room to the opposite. You caught Nina and Inej laughing uncontrollably, wishing to know what caused it. In the corner of the room you saw Jesper and Wylan, making out. You chuckled at their love, silently supporting them. You couldn't help but think your sister and Kaz were doing something similar. You despised that thought and wanted to burn it from your mind. After thinking about practical ways to do so, you came up with a solution. Instead of crying about their relationship you should interup them and tell them how you feel about them, tell Kaz how you feel about him. And if it backfires, you could blame it on the alcohol. The plan sounded so good that you got up from your seat and went to fulfill it.

The hardest part was to get upstairs. You tripped twice and kicked the stairs 4 times for being so stupidly built, but somehow you managed to get infront of his bedroom door. Not waiting a second, you knocked with your fist. The door opened too fastly and it made you to take a step back. Kaz stood in the doorway, looking confused. You sighed loudly, glad you didn't saw her.

"Y/n?"

You looked into his eyes, smiling. You put your head on the wooden door. "You look pretty in this light, you know that?". Kaz sighed and closed his eyes. You tried so hard to see a resamblance of a blush, yet there never was any.

"You're drunk." he said as if you didn't know that and it made you giggle. You looked behind him, trying to see Yera's things. She had to be here and if not, you already knocked so might as well finish the second part of the plan. "Is she here?" you asked, still looking in the distance to find her presence. Kaz looked the same way, but returned his eyes on you: "Who?"

You laughed and pushed yourself from the door, walking even closer to him before answering: "Yera, of course. Is she already asleep?". Kaz dived into a bigger confusion while you tried to see into his bedroom, but he then blocked your view. "Y/n, you're drunk. Let's go to-" he tried to say, but you already walked past him.

"Yera!" you yelled and tried to hear a response, but the only sound that reached your ears was the door closing and Kaz's another sigh. "She's not here. Why would she be?" he stayed close to the door, ready to open it for you. You knew he didn't want you here, but seemed not to care. You chuckled again before turning around. "Oh you know why. She's beautiful and so so kind, of course she would be here." you mumbled, moving your eyes from the floor to the ceiling. Kaz didn't say anything, so you took it as a sign you can continue: "You know, I tried so hard for you. So hard. I don't understand why you like her.". You shook your head, trying not to cry already.

"What? I-"

"I changed every part of me, to be the copy of her. And you still don't even fucking love me."

Kaz's head snapped in your direction and your short gaze at him noted his eyes widened, but you weren't finished talking: "I don't recognize myself in the mirror anymore. These clothes and this hair," you pointed at it, walking around the room, "I feel like I'm in pieces, like I'm. Like I'm" you stopped yourself to think about the right word. You look at Kaz and held an eye contact when you smiled, "Like I'm a jigsaw."

Kaz measured you up and down, being away from the door now. You chuckled lightly, nodding. "Yeah, that's the right word." you began walking around the room again, stopping in front of a cabinet that wore the pink diamond as a crown. You could hear Kaz taking a step forward. It humored you - as many things did when you're drunk. "But you know what, Kaz? I'm done." you turned around so he could see your face watered by your tears that came unnanounced. "I'm done trying to change myself, I'm done trying to make you happy. I don't care you don't like me, you can't point out every single flaw I have. I don't wanna be a different person."

Kaz almost looked sad. You smiled widely and streched out your arms. "Love a perfection and realize how imperfect you are." you said before walking out the door. You tried to be as fast as possible, but something caught your arm making you to stumble backwards. You looked at the gloved hand holding you tightly and slowly shifted your gaze into his eyes. He was about to say something, you knew he was, but the door opening stopped him immidiately.

"There you are!" said the drunk Zemeni boy and grinned at you before scanning the room. He smiled again when he saw Kaz and waved at him. "I lost you down there. Come on, let’s get you to bed.". He grabbed your second arm and put it on his shoulders while his hand rested on your back. You felt Kaz's hand slip off and looked at him. He studied you for a while and then nodded at Jesper to take you away. You walked with your best friend out of the room and listened to his ranting about Wylan's lips. You both were so drunk you fell on the ground when the hallway rounded. Laughter filled the room and you positioned yourself on the wall, while Jesper tried to catch his breath.

Drunkenness aside, you felt horrible. You fought for Kaz for so long and it only took one night to give up. He knew everything. You sighed and looked at Jesper choking. Maybe love isn't meant for you, but the love your friends gave was already enough. You knew that the feelings for Kaz, taking up space in your heart, would soon be replaced.

It will hurt, but the puzzle pieces will finally fit.

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