#there's literally so much wrong with him AND he's an asshole and he's a nice fella and kind and gentle :) ok. he bites with same mouth he | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gimmethatagustd · 9 months

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wanna watch a sex tape | kth (ft. pjm)

When Taehyung invited you over to watch a movie, you didn’t think the movie he had in mind would be your sex tape… And you definitely didn’t think his roommate would want to watch, too.

↳ pairing: taehyung x reader x jimin

↳ wc/date: 6.9k | August 2023

↳ warnings: no pronouns/gendered language for oc except "pussy", namjoon has mono and it's not the album (hahahaaa), homemade pornography, Big Dick Tae, exhibitionism, humiliation kink (but it's like... unintentional? tae isn't mean or anything), handjob, blowjob, deepthroating, facefucking, crying, anal and vaginal fingering, unprotected anal and vaginal sex, double penetration, creampie, subspace, sub!reader, soft!dom tae, switch!jimin ig, an insane amount of lube like way too much, they're all arguing with each other the entire time, tae tries to deepthroat a camcorder

↳ notes: lol yeahhh soooo... idk what's up with me and threesomes lately, but, uhhh, i'm too embarrassed to proofread this so i'll do it later hkjds

↳ masterlist / taglist

↳ what was jai listening to? up! - lil vada & donnysolo

The Wannabe-Photographer Chronicles (mini-series) Masterlist

“It’s just a movie,” he’d said. “What’s wrong with two friends watching a movie? It’s Netflix and chill in the most literal way, I promise,” he’d insisted.

So why does Taehyung have pulled up what appears to be a video editing software instead of Netflix?

You sit with your back against Taehyung’s headboard and your legs tucked beneath you while you watch him place his laptop on the bed in front of you. The moment he presses play, you feel all the blood drain from your body.

“Kim Taehyung, turn that the fuck off!” you screech. You lunge forward to slap the space bar, effectively pausing the video. “Why? Why why why why why?”

“You said I could pick the movie,” Taehyung says with a slight pout.

“This is not a fucking movie!”

There on the screen, with a fucking sepia filter, is a still of Taehyung’s fingers lodged deep between your thighs. The tendons and veins in his wrist and forearm pop to the surface from the thrusting motion. In the second it took to pause the video, you’d heard your own breathy moans blare from the laptop’s speakers.

This is probably the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you in your entire life. Probably in anyone’s life! You’re living a nightmare.

“You’re right, it’s not a movie,” Taehyung sighs. He leans back on his palms and lets his head loll to the side as he stares at you blankly, almost as if he’s bored. It’s enraging how hot he looks. “It’s just raw footage. I have a lot of edits to make before I could call it a movie. For starters, I already hate the filter.”

Ears and cheeks aflame with invisible heat, you dig your fingers into the bed’s fluffy comforter to prevent yourself from clawing Taehyung’s eyes out. He’s genuinely insufferable and has been for as long as you’ve known him.

You don’t know how you keep finding yourself in these unfortunate situations with Taehyung. The first time, he provoked you. How could you have reasonably walked away from him at Hoseok’s party when it was in your own fucking apartment? After he fucked your pussy and took a photo when you came? What were you supposed to have done?! You’d already tried kicking him out. The little shit just wiggled his way under your skin and made you itch.

The whole striptease thing hadn’t been your fault, either. Hoseok had a whole conversation with you about not “scaring away” his friends as if it’s somehow on you that his friends are all annoying. But you love Hoseok, no matter how difficult he makes your life sometimes, and you told yourself that you would do better to be nice. Helping Taehyung with his college photography assignment seemed like a nice way to hold out an olive branch to the asshole. How could you have known that it would end with, with, with a sex tape?

Because that’s what this is on Taehyung’s laptop. A fucking sex tape.

You made a sex tape with Kim fucking Taehyung, the most infuriating man on the planet, and now you’re sitting on his bed while he explains his editing software like this is the most normal thing you could be doing on a Friday night.

“Are you even listening?” Taehyung narrows his eyes at you. His fingers hover over the trackpad, posed to click on the video’s play button.

You swat his hand away, and he yelps.

“Stop it right now,” you snap. “We are not watching this.”

You’re so embarrassed that your entire body is on fire. The skin at the nape of your neck prickles, and your stomach swoops so severely that you’re afraid you might pass out from how difficult it is to inhale. It doesn’t help that Taehyung’s previous look of irritation has morphed into something slimy and smug.

Of course, the universe is never on your side. Assuming Taehyung will let this go is nothing more than a pipe dream.

“You’re that upset about it?” Taehyung isn’t sincere when he asks.

Using the arrow keys, he fast-forwards through the video. Despite your embarrassment, you can’t take your eyes off the frames as they quickly flash across the screen. Taehyung lingers momentarily on a part of the video that makes the heat in your face travel south.

Most people look better in real life than in photos, but Taehyung is flawless no matter the circumstance. His sharp, dark eyes stare back at you through the screen. From the angle his head is tilted, his eyes have a narrowed, almost sleepy appearance as he looks through his eyelashes at the camera. You can only see the top half of his face because the lower half is buried between your thighs.

You straighten your posture and clasp your hands in your lap. Forcing yourself to look away from the laptop is hard, and you hate yourself for being so affected by the image of Taehyung eating you out. It was a fluke. A mistake. Something fueled by lust and some weird desire for you to prove that… what? You could fuck him, and it mean nothing?

“This is the best part.”

You don’t want to look again, but you do. It isn’t Taehyung’s comment that draws you toward the laptop once more, but another voice. Your own.

“I liked you better when you were crying and begging for me like a good boy.”

In the moment, you thought you’d been snappy and clever when you said that line – meant to be an insult more than anything. Listening to it now, you’re ashamed to hear something far more… suggestive to your tone. Had it really been like that? Or are you overanalyzing now?

“I can still be a good boy for you like this…”

Taehyung’s rough, fucked-out voice makes your entire body tense. It was fucking hot when he said it then, and hearing it again only confirms that, yes, it was fucking hot.

The sound of skin slapping against skin and broken moans flood the room. Watching yourself on video is surreal, a version of you that you wouldn’t otherwise ever know. Most people live their entire lives without knowing what they look like when they’re having sex – not like this. And here you are, watching a version of you fuck yourself on Taehyung’s cock in the very bed you sit on right now.

“Honestly, I’m offended that you don’t even appreciate how well I edited these shots. They all flow so seamlessly; didn’t you notice?”

For some reason, the pout Taehyung wears tugs at your heart in a way you wish it wouldn’t. He just looks so genuine.

“Taehyung,” you speak sternly, hoping you can set the tone for a more serious conversation. Even though your face isn’t in the video, you’re still a little nervous about what Taehyung will do with it.

Another part of you is very turned on because the video is still playing, and even though you’re looking at Taehyung, you can see the movement out of the corner of your eye. It only gets worse when Taehyung’s moans grow louder.

“Yeah?”

Taehyung’s lips part slightly. You watch him run his tongue against the inside of his cheek with your heart hammering in your chest and heat pooling between your legs. Taehyung exhales in real life, the sound soft and shaky, at the exact moment he cums in the video.

Whatever you were about to say evaporates from your mind like mist in the wind because he sounds so pretty.

Fucking hell.

“What?” Taehyung tries again to get an answer from you, but you can’t speak.

By now, you’re thoroughly wet, to the point that your thighs feel damp from being pressed together. Your underwear is uncomfortable when you shift, and you wish you’d worn more than a pair of baggy basketball shorts. They go well with your cute cropped hoodie and the Nikes you left at Taehyung’s front door. At least they’re black, so there’s no chance your arousal will be seen through your clothes.

The last thing you need is for Taehyung to know you’re turned on.

“Nothing,” you finally respond, tearing your gaze from his face.

The new view is worse, though. You immediately look down and see the last frame of the video. Taehyung’s cock rests on your bare ass, cum splattered on your cheeks and lower back, his cock shiny and slick. You breathe in sharply and seal your fate because Taehyung immediately pounces on that tiny detail.

“I know you liked it,” Taehyung goads, his pout morphing into the classic grin you’ve grown to both hate and love.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Don’t lie.”

You twist around to face him fully. “Listen here, you little piece of–”

It’s like deja vu, really, how your eyes fall to look at the bulge in Taehyung’s pants. This time, he’s wearing light grey sweatpants that are a little tight in the crotch, showing a clear outline of his cock resting along his thigh. The fabric at the head of his cock is darker than the rest, a wet spot that has your body throbbing with desire.

Perhaps from the attention, Taehyung’s cock kicks up, twitching in the confines of his sweats. He lets out a quiet, breathy laugh.

“I’m listening.”

Taehyung reaches over to squeeze your knee when you still don't speak. Slowly, he glides his hand up your thigh. Once he reaches the hem of your shorts, he lifts his gaze from where his hand is hot on your skin to your face. His eyes lock with yours as he slips his hand into the leg of your shorts and continues following the inside of your thigh.

Despite Taehyung’s body heat, you shiver from his touch as he travels higher and higher. It tickles, but you bite your lip and force yourself to stay still. The only part of you that moves is your chest as you rapidly take shallow breaths. It does nothing to calm you down; if anything, it worsens everything. You’re working yourself up to the point that you’re gushing in your underwear.

Taehyung’s fingers trace along the elastic, and you know he can feel how soaked you are. His gaze weighs heavy on you, eyes dark and lidded. He presses his fingers against your underwear and drags them along your lips, lightly increasing his pressure to massage your clit.

“Oh,” you let out with a gasp, digging your fingers into the comforter. You automatically open your legs further, allowing Taehyung better access. He continues rubbing your clit through your underwear, his movements too slow and light for your liking. “Taehyung…”

“Hm?” He’s so fucking smug you want to slap him, but you also don’t want him to stop.

“Just, fucking, just–”

Your desperate request for him to just fucking finger you already is cut off by Taehyung’s bedroom door flying open. With an embarrassing scream, you practically leap off Taehyung’s bed.

“Taehyungieeee! I was supposed to hang out with Namjoon hyung, but he canceled because he got fucking mono. Can you believe? Who gets mono at almost thirty years old? Seriously! I asked him who he’s been making out with, but he–”

The dark-haired man stops midsentence with his jaw hanging off its hinges. Wide, unsuspecting eyes flit from your look of horror to the outline of Taehyung’s dick in his pants to Taehyung’s hand now resting on your knee. But what’s somehow the most embarrassing thing is that the man’s eyes eventually land on Taehyung’s laptop, where his dick and your ass are still on display.

“Oh wow.”

Taehyung lets out a long groan and lets his head roll backward.

“This is exactly why I tell you to knock before you come in here.”

“W-what!” The man sputters. “This is my fault?”

After a moment of staring at the ceiling, Taehyung levels his gaze to stare at the man. “Did you knock?”

The man looks pained when forced to say, “No…”

You would rather die than be here right now. You watch the two men begin bickering about proper roommate etiquette because this is apparently Taehyung’s roommate, Jimin, who you didn’t know even existed. A convenient thing to leave out, right? Of course, Taehyung wouldn’t fucking tell you that there’s the possibility that someone might be in the apartment with you.

“Well, what are you watching?” Jimin walks toward the bed to get a better look at Taehyung’s laptop. “Fuck, that guy’s cock is huge. What’s this on?”

“Oh my god, Taehyung, make it go away!” You finally hiss, slapping Taehyung in the arm to make him do something.

Taehyung throws his head back in a fit of laughter, which makes you slap him even harder.

“That’s me.”

Jimin nearly chokes. “Excuse me?”

The look on Taehyung’s face is a mix of pride and mischief. He’s absolutely glowing, absorbing all the praise, even if it’s accidentally given.

“That is my cock. And the ass…” Taehyung jabs his thumb in your direction, much to your displeasure.

“Oh,” Jimin exclaims. “Your ass looks great.”

“For fuck’s sake, I need to get out of here.”

“No!” Taehyung reaches for your arm to keep you from getting up. “We haven’t even fully watched it yet.”

You narrow your eyes and gesture in Jimin’s direction. Even if you wanted to watch the sex tape – which you definitely don’t – you can’t watch it with Taehyung’s roommate hovering over you like this. You don’t even understand why the guy is still here or how he and Taehyung can converse normally while Taehyung’s got a literal erection.

Boys are so fucking weird.

“Can I watch, too?”

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head. There’s no way, no fucking way. And yet Taehyung’s already nodding and scooting over for Jimin to sit on the other side of him.

“I worked so hard on this, and it’s going unappreciated.” Taehyung glares at you.

Before you can react, Taehyung has restarted the video. His hand migrates from your arm back down to your knee and squeezes lightly, maybe in an attempt to be comforting, but you’re already beginning to die inside from embarrassment.

It doesn’t help that Jimin is gorgeous. You find yourself admiring him as he watches the video, which Taehyung has now turned on with full volume. Jimin’s eyes are glued to the screen. Occasionally, he makes little comments to praise Taehyung’s editing skills or point out how you and Taehyung have “great chemistry.” But the most intriguing part is when Jimin begins to squirm.

It’s still early in the video, just after Taehyung starts eating you out, when you notice Jimin’s hand move to rest in his lap. It isn’t subtle how he adjusts his erection in his jeans, but he doesn’t know that you’re staring at him.

There’s something about knowing that this complete stranger is now hard because of watching your porn that rekindles the arousal buzzing inside you. It doesn’t help that Jimin and Taehyung are right; the video is hot. It’s ridiculously hot.

Distracted, you don’t realize Taehyung’s attention is no longer on the video like Jimin’s is. Instead, he’s got his eyes on where his hand disappears into your shorts again. This time, he wiggles his fingers inside your underwear.

The first press of his fingertips against your clit makes you moan, high-pitched and desperate. You immediately slap your hand over your mouth, and Taehyung chuckles.

“Y’know, I was thinking…” Taehyung begins, noticing that Jimin’s now watching his fingers move in your shorts. “We should make another video.”

“You should,” Jimin agrees immediately with a nod. It’s eager, without shame, and that alone makes your pussy throb for some reason.

Are you into exhibitionism? Is that what this is? What the fuck is going on?

“No way,” you try to protest, but another moan comes from deep in your chest when Taehyung slips his middle finger inside you.

“I could film it,” Jimin offers, as though finding a director is the issue. His chest rises rapidly as his pretty eyes roam your body.

Just as before, you let your legs spread. By now, Taehyung isn’t trying to hide what he’s doing. He openly fingers you with his roommate sitting right there, watching. You lean back on your palms and let your head fall back when Taehyung squeezes your thigh with his other hand to hold you open.

“Yeah, Chim, you film it,” Taehyung agrees. “Baby? Wanna do it now?” He slips a second finger inside you, and you think it’s unfair that he’s asking you this while fingers you because you’d probably do anything to get him to fuck you right now, whether you want to admit it or not.

“Fuck you,” you hiss. “Fine.”

With a grin, Taehyung removes his fingers from you. You want to complain, but he and Jimin are off the bed by the time you sit up again. You sit there, dumbfounded, as Taehyung heads to his closet. Jimin trails behind him, nodding at the instructions Taehyung gives him.

The two return to the bed once they each have a camcorder. They’re smaller than the one Taehyung used before, sleeker, and more colorful compared to the all-black, more heavy-duty one from before.

Taehyung sets his camera on the bed next to you while Jimin fiddles with his from where he stands at the edge of the bed.

“Take your clothes off, baby.”

You bite your lip at the term of endearment you’ve always told Taehyung not to call you, that he calls you anyway. This time, there’s something different about it. You watch him shred his clothes, tossing his t-shirt to the floor and then dropping his sweatpants. As you expected, he isn’t wearing underwear. The sight of his cock, so big and hard that it hangs heavy between his legs, makes you finally start moving.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you throw out just because you have to stay in character unless you want Taehyung to think you’re in love with him or something.

But he grins like an idiot and kneels on the bed while he waits for you to strip. You thought it would be weird getting naked in front of a stranger, but excitement thrums through you as you think about Jimin’s eyes on you, filming you, while Taehyung fucks you.

“Should we do introductions like they do in those casting videos?” Taehyung grins up at Jimin.

The poor guy’s face is bright pink, and his forehead glistens with sweat. Nothing has even happened yet, but he’s completely hard and looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. His hands shake worse than yours had when Taheyung ate you out in the video.

“Chim.”

Jimin swallows but doesn’t speak.

“Jimin,” Taehyung tries again. It seems like Taehyung has a knack for leaving people speechless. He moves to the edge of the bed, still on his knees, and leans forward slightly. Jimin must be too nervous to move because he stands completely still as Taehyung opens his mouth.

You watch with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal as Taehyung takes the flip screen of the camcorder into his mouth. All the while, he keeps his eyes locked on Jimin’s.

It’s so fucking hot you have to look away.

Finally, something snaps. Jimin jerks backward, pulling the camera out of Taehyung’s mouth.

“Tae!” He exclaims in disbelief, quickly using his sleeve to clean the screen. “What is wrong with you?”

“If you wanna join us so bad, hurry up and take your clothes off.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. Your dick spoke for you.”

Jimin takes his eyes off Taehyung to look at you. It’s an unspoken request you find yourself granting by nodding your head without even thinking. How could you deny a man that looks like that? Whatever happens, happens. But you know that you want them both if you can have them. The thought just never crossed your mind before.

It seems that Taehyung has helped you learn a lot about yourself, like how you apparently get off on being embarrassed.

“I don’t want to fuck you,” Jimin announces to Taehyung. He tries to look serious, but it’s hard not to laugh when his dick bobs from how quickly he tugged his jeans off his body.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I don’t want to fuck you either; shut up.”

You thought it would be awkward having Taehyung and Jimin in bed with you, and it is, sort of. Uncharted territory is scary, no matter what it is. It must be evident that you’re feeling this way because Taehyung reaches for you. He pulls you close by the back of the head, and you think the kiss will be rough and charged. Instead, it’s soft. He moves his lips with yours in a gentle rhythm, something meant to be grounding and comforting. His other hand cradles the side of your face, and his thumb caresses your cheek.

“You guys are so cute.” Jimin’s comment makes you pull back from Taehyung.

“No, we’re not.”

“Thank you.”

You scowl at Taehyung, but he’s still wearing that grin that’s getting harder to hate. It slowly fades into something darker once Taehyung finally looks at your body, eyes lingering on how shiny and wet your thighs are from him fucking you with his fingers.

Taehyung bites his lip, reaching for the camcorder on the bed beside you.

“Let me record Jimin fucking your face, baby.”

You and Jimin gasp simultaneously, immediately turning your heads to look at each other. Even though it’s clear that Jimin was invited into this to have sex with you, too, for some reason, you thought Taehyung would be greedier. You thought he wouldn’t want to share, didn’t expect that he’d be the one calling the shots.

Then again, it isn’t that surprising. Hasn’t Taehyung always called the shots? Sure, you let him, but he was good at it. A director. He’s in his element, you realize.

You quickly realize, once Jimin’s cock is down your throat, that Jimin is the greedy one. He kneels directly in front of where you sit on the bed and digs his fingers into the back of your head to hold you still as he fucks your throat.

“You’re doing such a good job, baby,” Taehyung murmurs. He kneels next to you, recording all the sloppy sounds and visuals of you messily gagging on Jimin’s cock while you jerk Taehyung off.

Tears spill from your eyes as Jimin’s cock hits the back of your throat. You do your best to keep pumping Taehyung’s cock, but your rhythm falters.

“Fuck, yes, swallow. Like that.”

Jimin’s moans are different than Taehyung’s. While Taehyung’s moans are soft and deep, Jimin’s are high-pitched and erratic, coming in stunted waves rather than smooth like Taehyung’s. They sound pretty together, even if they’re so different.

You can tell Jimin won’t last as long as Taehyung, though. He has to pull away from you very quickly, which is fine because you gasp for air, leaning forward slightly to catch your breath.

“Don’t go so fucking hard,” Taehyung snaps once he sees your reaction.

“Wha–” Jimin’s eyes grow wide.

“I’m fine.” Your voice is hoarse, but you’re genuinely okay. You pat Taehyung on the thigh to reassure him because, well, it’s kind of cute that he cared enough to chastise his friend like that.

Taehyung reaches down to wipe the tears from your cheeks with a stern look that feels strange coming from him. “Let’s take care of you, okay, baby?”

It’s soft, the way he talks to you. It isn’t for the cameras.

“I wanna go first. You got your chance before,” Jimin whines.

“Why don’t you ask me then?”

Jimin crosses his arms against his chest. “May I fuck you first?”

“Sure,” you say with a shrug.

Taehyung rolls his eyes, but despite the annoyed look on his face, he flops backward onto the bed. The motion causes his cock to slap against his hip, and he groans, slightly rolling on his side.

“See, stop being such a drama queen,” Jimin chides.

You let out a rather unattractive snort that makes Jimin grin.

“I like him.”

“Shut up.”

For once, Taehyung doesn’t have a witty comeback or a stupid smirk to flash your way. Instead, his face twists into something unpleasant. The expression quickly dissolves, and you almost feel like you’ve imagined it.

Taehyung leans back on his elbows and looks down at where you settle between his legs. Even when Jimin moves to kneel behind you, Taehyung’s eyes never leave yours except to check the flipped screen of his camcorder.

“Wait, use this.” Taehyung sits up, and his cock is suddenly very close to your face. He reaches over to open his nightstand drawer, nearly ripping the entire thing out. “A lot of it.”

Something passes between Taehyung and Jimin’s hands. You only glimpse it, but between what you see and the sound of a cap popping open, you know it’s a half-empty bottle of lube that Jimin is now squeezing all over your ass.

“What the hell,” you hiss as the cool liquid drips down your thighs. “Might as well dump the whole fucking thing on me, shit.”

You refuse to admit that it feels nice having Jimin massage the lube into your skin. It heats up quickly, and his hand easily glides across your muscles. You feel yourself sink forward, lifting your lower half to give Jimin more access. In the midst of how good Jimin’s hand feels, something cold and hard presses against your lower back.

“If you ruin my camera, Jimin–”

“That’s hyung to you.”

“No fucking way.”

Their banter would be cute if you didn’t have your ass in the air and Taehyung’s dick mere inches from your face. And maybe if you didn’t fucking hate Taehyung and weren’t wary of Jimin at best.

“Are we gonna do something, or…?”

Taehyung fluffs a pillow behind his head to keep him propped up so he’ll have a better shot for filming.

“Yeah, put it in your mouth.”

You roll your eyes because there Taehyung goes, bossing you around again, but something deep inside whispers that you fucking like it. Not that you would say it out loud. You can’t help how your pussy gushes over him, though. It’s a betrayal, honestly.

“Say, please.”

Taehyung sticks his tongue out at you. “No.”

You don’t have a chance to bitch him out because Jimin chooses that moment to slowly inch his cock inside of you.

“Oh my god,” you moan with your lips brushing against the base of Taehyung’s cock. You rock back gently, helping Jimin ease into you.

“So tight,” Jimin says once his hips are flat against your thighs and his cock is fully buried inside you.

“Right?” Taehyung murmurs. “You always feel so good.”

It’s a bit difficult to bob your head along Taehyung’s cock when Jimin’s fucking into you like his life depends on it. The rhythm is all off, but Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind. He’s watching you with fucking stars in his eyes, hyperfocused on where your lips suckle the head of his cock. When you take more of him into your mouth, he switches the camcorder to his right hand and reaches out to you with his left.

Taehyung runs his thumb along your upper lip, shallowly dipping into the corner of your mouth to feel how little space there is with your mouth full of his cock.

“Don’t run away; you gotta take it,” Jimin grunts, squeezing your waist and pulling you back hard onto his cock.

You want to snap at Jimin that it’s not your fault you keep getting lurched forward, but Taehyung’s letting out cute little whimpers from you rubbing your tongue against his slit, and you don’t want to do anything to make him stop.

When you finally pull off Taehyung to breathe, a string of spit connects your lips to his shiny cock.

“Can I fuck you in the ass, baby?” Taehyung practically hums the question, his voice already fucked out, deep and hoarse. “I think we need to diversify our portfolio.”

At the question, Jimin slows down his thrusts until they’re shallow and don’t jostle you too severely.

You’re nodding before your brain can catch up to how your body reacts to Taehyung’s request.

“Jimin?”

“On it, boss.”

You mean to groan in annoyance at how fucking corny they are – as if they’re actually trying to make this into a bad porno – but a moan comes out instead as Jimin slowly presses a generously lubed finger against your rim.

“Have you done this before?” Jimin asks, working you open with one finger before moving on to a second.

“Y-yeah,” you whimper, the sensation of Jimin’s cock still moving inside you while his fingers are in your ass enough to make you lose your mind. Even if you hadn’t fingered yourself before, the amount of lube Jimin poured all over your ass removes nearly all the friction and tension.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Taehyung groans in an almost frustrated tone. He reaches down to pump his cock since you’re virtually useless with Jimin’s fingers and cock moving inside of you simultaneously.

“Oh my god, Jimin.” You bury your face in the inside of Taehyung’s thigh, biting down just to ground yourself.

“Shit, that hurts,” Taehyung hisses, but he doesn’t tell you to stop.

Once Jimin has four fingers inside of you, he leans forward to get closer to ask you if you’re ready.

“Do you want us at the same time?”

Something that almost sounds pained comes from Taehyung, a broken whimper you’ve never heard from him before. He squeezes his eyes shut and nods his head even though the question isn’t for him.

“Please, fuck, Y/N, please say yes.”

You can’t even appreciate hearing Taehyung beg because you’re desperate for this, too.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just, let’s go.” You get up, nearly slipping from all the lube that has dripped down onto your body and Taehyung’s.

“I don’t understand how Taehyung ended up not doing any of the work,” Jimin grumbles as he helps you turn around.

You’re hardly paying attention to the men’s bickering. They can do whatever weird bromance thing they’re doing, but you’re trying to get doubly dicked down. Cameras or not.

You sit on Taehyung’s abdomen with your legs on either side of his thighs and face Jimin. Taehyung’s large hands squeeze your waist to lift you up while Jimin grabs Taehyung’s cock to guide the head to your rim.

“I can’t believe I have to touch your dick,” Jimin adds to his list of grievances that you’re sure Taehyung will never hear the end of.

Taehyung just laughs, causing your body to jiggle in his tight grip.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

Jimin grimaces. “I really don’t.”

It’s surprising that the two have never done this before when it feels so natural for the three of you to fall into place like this.

Eventually, Jimin lets go of Taehyung’s cock once the tip pushes inside you. Taehyung feels much bigger than you remember, and Jimin’s fingers certainly don’t compare. Luckily, Taehyung is gentle as he pushes past the ring of muscles. Thank god for the ridiculous amount of lube. It allows you to sink down on Taehyung’s cock with only mild discomfort at first.

“Relax, baby,” Taehyung murmurs. His hands slide up to squeeze your tits, rubbing and pinching your nipples as you eventually slide fully onto his cock.

“O-o-okay,” you stutter as Jimin kneels between you and Taehyung’s legs.

Jimin’s slow as he eases his cock into your pussy, mindful of the pressure you will feel with both cocks inside you. He pauses when he’s halfway in to squeeze even more lube onto his cock, making sure there’s enough to drip down to Taehyung’s, too.

“What are we filming, a fucking lube ad? What is this?”

“Shh, baby, you’re gonna ruin the audio,” Taehyung scolds from behind you.

Biting your lip, you watch Jimin’s face as he concentrates on sliding into you. He’s pretty, sweet even, but… he’s not Taehyung.

“Wait.”

Jimin’s bright eyes flit up to meet yours. Concern twists his features, making his eyebrows scrunch together. “Are you okay?”

“What’s wrong? Does it hurt? Did we not prep you enough?” Taehyung tries to sit up, but Jimin slaps his thigh.

“Stop moving!”

“I just wanna know what’s going on!”

Taehyung rubs comforting circles into your sides, sliding his thumbs down to trace your hip bones before running his palms back across your ribs.

You shake your head and try not to think about what you’re going to say.

“I… I want to,” your face heats up, and you internally scold yourself for feeling the way you do. “I want Tae.”

Your words are rushed, but Jimin seems to understand – perhaps even more than what you’ve let on because he gives you a small smile and eases out of you without any questions.

“What?” Taehyung peers from around your body.

“No assfucking for you, buddy. Better luck next time.”

“Jimin!” It’s your turn to haul a slap, this one hard against Jimin’s arm. “I’m a person.”

At least Jimin has enough sense to appear bashful. Grabbing your arms, he helps you lift off of Taehyung. He guides you so you’ve got your knees on either side of Taehyung’s hips.

When you straddle Taehyung, you press your palms to his chest and dig your fingers into his firm pecs. He’s gorgeous like this, skin smooth and tan. A few moles scatter his torso, like little flecks of chocolate that you suddenly realize you’ve missed out on having the chance to lick up. His cheeks are dusted a light pink, and his sweaty bangs are brushed away from his forehead.

He’s gorgeous all the time, but especially like this.

“See something you like?”

You dig your nails into his skin, and Taehyung winces, but he maintains that stupid fucking sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

“Shut up. Maybe.”

Taehyung’s grin widens. It’s bright and lopsided, makes him look like an idiot, honestly, and your stomach swoops because, fuck, you’re so fucked.

“Are you two lovebirds ready or what? My dick is starting to hurt.”

Taehyung apparently thinks slapping your ass is the best way to respond to Jimin’s question.

Reaching between your bodies, you guide Taehyung’s cock inside your pussy. The unholy amount of lube makes it easy for him to slip in, which is good because you need to focus on relaxing your body once you feel Jimin’s cock press against your rim.

You’ve never had two dicks at once – god, it sounds insane when you think about it, even though you know plenty of people who have explored this side of their sexual fantasies. It just isn’t something you’d do, mainly because you’ve always been insecure and a little shy. The hardass exterior is a great wall you’ve built to hide from getting your heart broken, but of course, Taehyung has managed to fuck with all your plans.

It’s a strange sensation once Jimin fully bottoms out. The three of you freeze, allowing your body to adjust.

After a while, Taehyung grabs your ass, holding you open as he and Jimin slowly begin to rock into you. As it was when you were sucking Taehyung off, it’s a bit difficult to find the right rhythm at first. Taehyung and Jimin bicker back and forth about who should thrust first and who should pull back. Taehyung jostles you in his lap a few times, squeezing your thighs to adjust your legs against his hips when he isn’t kneading your ass.

Jimin eventually pushes down on your back, pressing you against Taehyung to open your hips more. The action pushes your chest into Taehyung’s face, much to his amusement, because he immediately sucks one of your perky nipples into his mouth.

“Oh god,” you moan, reaching out to squeeze Taehyung’s broad shoulders when he flicks your nipple with the tip of his tongue. His mouth is wet and warm, and your nipples have always been extra sensitive when you’re aroused.

“Fuck, Tae, just, go now,” Jimin instructs through gritted teeth.

Taehyung begins thrusting into you at a different tempo, knocking your heart into your throat because you can feel both of their cocks alternating thrusts inside of you now, both rubbing against each other between your walls.

It’s embarrassing when the first wave of tears starts streaming down your face. You start babbling, hardly aware of what you’re saying because the pleasure is so intense it feels as though your brain completely short circuits.

“Tae, Tae, oh my god, Taehyung,” you breathily chant into Taehyung’s ear. You can’t lean far forward because you have to keep your back arched for both Jimin and Taehyung to comfortably thrust into you. That frustrates you because you suddenly feel the need to be closer to Taehyung. It’s like everything inside of you will explode if you don’t.

“Tae, I n-need y-y-you,” you sob.

“Shhh, baby, we got you, okay? I got you.” Taehyung reaches up to lightly wrap his hand around your throat. It isn’t meant to choke you, just to comfort you with his presence since he can’t hold you against his chest.

“Dropping?” Jimin asks as he pounds into you from behind.

“Just sensitive, I think,” Taehyung responds for you, and it makes you warm to know that he knows you well enough to answer correctly.

His hand slides from your throat to hold your jaw. The position allows him to press his middle finger into your mouth. You immediately suck on it, finding comfort in it even as you continue to cry from the pleasure.

“I’m gonna cum. Tae. I’m gonna cum.”

Taehyung’s hand quickly drops to squeeze between your bodies. He rubs your clit, adding the extra sensation you need to finally push you over the edge. You cry out Taehyung’s name as you cum on both his and Jimin’s cocks, fingers digging into Taehyung’s pecs so hard that you worry you’ll draw blood.

Jimin immediately cums, too, the feeling of your ass clenching around his cock proving too much for him.

“Wait, wait,” he pleads until Taehyung stops moving. “Let me pull out.”

You whimper when you feel Jimin ease out of you, your ass clenching and unclenching as your body adjusts. Now that only Taehyung is inside you, you collapse against his chest. Your lips find his neck and suck, making him shiver underneath you.

“Can I move?” Taehyung asks, and you hum, too afraid to speak.

Taehyung fucks into you harder than he had before. There’s something desperate about it, the way he chases his pleasure and can thrust at the speed he wants without needing to match with Jimin. You don’t even know what Jimin’s doing, probably cleaning himself up or filming you. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is how Taehyung moans your name as he thrusts into you. It’s sloppy and wet, something Taehyung appreciates.

“You sound so good,” he moans into your ear. “Will you cum for me again?”

You frantically nod your head, already almost there.

“Just let go for me, okay? You can trust me.”

It feels like more than just sex when he whispers it in your ear, another quiet promise meant for you and not the camera.

You cum for a second time, this one accompanied by a silent scream that’s pressed into the crook of Taehyung’s sweaty neck.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Taehyung groans, squeezing you against his chest as he finally finds his release, too.

You feel warm and gooey, none of your limbs cooperating when Taehyung tries to move you off him. Jimin has to help, and the two lay you on your back and get to work cleaning you up. It should be embarrassing, but you kind of like having two men doting on you. It’s nice, even if you’re still a little sticky from cum and lube, even after they’ve done their best to wipe your body down.

Why haven’t you ever done this before? This is lovely. Men should be taking care of you.

You smile at them, brain fuzzy and warm, when Jimin helps Taehyung tuck you into bed.

“How are you feeling?” Taehyung asks. He presses his thumb to your bottom lip, caressing it lightly.

“I’m barely holding on.”

Jimin snorts and immediately turns his head away when Taehyung shoots him a death glare.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” The nervousness in Taehyung’s voice is cute.

“You’re cute.”

Rather than say something smug, Taehyung covers his face with his hands.

“We broke Y/N.”

“What?” Jimin whips his head back around. “What, because you’re cute?”

“Yes.”

You use the rest of your strength to slap Taehyung in the thigh. “Oh, shut the fuck up before I kick your ass. Take the fucking compliment.”

Taehyung peeks at you from between his fingers. “Fuck, you scared me for a second there.”

With a roll of his eyes, Jimin stands up and stretches his arms out. “You’re both fucking drama queens.”

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#jimin x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #bts fluff #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfic #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #the wannabe photographer chronicles #wwast #thanks for 1k 🥺#thanks for 2k 🥺

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nerdpoe · 5 months

Text

Kon, in an effort to blow off steam after another argument with Superman, goes to bumfuck nowhere. He meets a small-time hero named Phantom.

Phantom is happy to lend a listening ear, nodding along sympathetically and giving Kon fantastic ideas to fuck with Superman.

Then he stops Kon with an increasingly concerned expression.

"Wait-and all of his friends are saying he isn't normally like this?"

"Yeah, according to Dinah he may be like, projecting or something-"

"On a scale of 1-10, how different is he?"

Kon stops and frowns, thinking.

"I dunno, apparently he's like, super kind and empathetic? Normally? Now he's just an asshole though."

"And this just...happened. Apparently."

"Yeah, he came back after being dead, took one look at me, and decided that being his 'nice and normal self' was too much work."

Phantom looks sick.

"So don't take this the wrong way, but I think I need to actually fight Superman."

OR: Superman was cruel to Kon when he came back because he was possessed, and the ghost possessing him was clever enough to bypass pinging on any of the JLD radar. It was behaving like itself towards Kon because it knew that Kon had no one to report it to that would take it really seriously, so long as it pretended to be kind to everyone else. So it was treating Kon like stress-relief. But Danny realizes it. And the only way Danny knows how to perform a successful exorcism is to punch the ghost out of somebody. Literally. (also the fenton peeler but that thing freaks him out)

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #phanfic #story prompt #overshadowed superman au #danny's in for a hell of a fight #because this ghost is utilizing all of Superman's senses #including his strength #and as it's overshadowing him #that means that being a ghost won't be enough to stop danny from getting hurt

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lovebugism · 7 months

Note

AH HI!! so... i love the way you write ditzy!reader, and especially with steve idk it just warms my heart yk? The way they interact 😭 it's so lovely

Since I'm an angsty girly at heart, I thought about a situation where steve gets a teeny tiny bit frustrated with ditzy!reader, but it's just seconds, even less than that but it's enough to make her upset for making him upset but also a super fluffy moment between both of them and steve being mesmerized by her and just so much in love

ahh thank u lovie! pls enjoy!! — steve gets frustrated with his sensitive gf and makes up with her accordingly (hurt/comfort, established relationship, 2.7k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

You keep Steve company during the last half of his shift like you always do.

He’s grumpier than usual, though — all pouty and visibly brooding.

You plop yourself on the front counter of Family Video and ask him what’s wrong, and he tells you that the day’s been hell and he’s just tired. There is no “but I feel better now” like there usually is when he’s upset but doesn’t want you to think it’s your fault.

The “because you’re here” is typically implied.

Not so much now.

You’re having the complete opposite day of your sulking boyfriend. Yours had been dreadfully boring, or at least you say it had been, but you find a million different things to tell him. You’re too excited after having spent so many hours without him, like a dog with a wagging tail. You’ve got the zoomies of the mouth, if you could even call it that.

“—And then I saw the cutest dog on the way over here. His name was Cappy, and he was huge, and the owner was so nice. He even let me pet him, and he literally felt like a cloud— the dog, not the owner.”

Steve is used to this. The whole rambling about nothing thing. He loves it about you, actually. It took him ages to coax you out of that shell after your asshole ex told you that you talked too much, convinced you that no one cared about what you had to say.

You’re more comfortable now, and Steve loves that you are, but right now he just can’t concentrate.

Keith’s been on his ass about inventory all day, and he just learned how to do it on the old, bulky computer this morning — but only after Robin made him an hour late to his shift. Everything’s just too much now. He’s overwhelmed to the point of spontaneous combustion.

For the first time ever, you’re not helping.

“—And, like, I know when we move into our apartment, we’re technically not allowed to have pets, but like… What about a fish? Or a turtle?” you wonder aloud but don’t stop to let him answer. Sitting on the edge of the counter, you kick your feet and flit your eyes to the spotted ceiling. “What if I start feeding the deer in the woods, and they just start showing up at our backdoor? ‘Cause technically—”

“Babe, please,” Steve snaps suddenly when your sneaker knocks his chair. He’s buzzing with anger, and even though it’s not because of you, he doesn’t know where else to put it.

Your eyes go wide at the newfound bite in his tone. He’s not shouting at you, but it makes your heart stop like he is. You feel like a kid again, getting scolded for being “too much.”

“…What?” you squeak.

Steve sighs. A deep, heavy sigh. It doesn’t remove the leaden weight from his chest, though.

“I’m… I’m really trying to concentrate here, and you’re just— you’re making it really hard,” he tells you through gritted teeth, trying hard to keep his composure.

You deflate like a popped balloon. “Oh…”

He can hear the waver in your tone, the way your voice sounds wet with unshed tears. But he’s too overwhelmed — internally raging and selfish with it. His sweltering temper makes his woe feel more important than yours.

“Yeah, so… Can you just— go bother someone else for, like, five minutes?” he asks, fists clenched on either side of the clunky keyboard, his gaze concentrated on the pixelated screen. “Robin’s probably sulking in a corner somewhere. Go find her.”

Your face crumbles like a balled-up piece of paper. Your chest gets all tight, and your eyes start to burn when tears gather behind them.

You’d always been a flower of melodrama — blooming eternally and constantly sensitive. So when Steve cut you off as you fantasized about a family of deer living in the backyard of an apartment you were supposed to share together, it felt like a knife in your chest.

The irrational thought that he no longer wanted any of that with you was fleeting and vivid and burning. Irrational, still.

But now you’re annoying him. He’s told you as much, with an unusual harshness he’s never spat at you before. And now your fears feel much more real.

“I’m bothering you?” you ask him, barely intelligible through the whimper in your throat.

Steve huffs again. His elbows thunk against the desk when he puts his head in his palms, swiping his fingers through his hair like he always does when he’s antsy.

“I just really need to get this done,” he tells you, softer now. He makes himself mad all over again, though, and gets sharper once more. “I need to finish this before I get fired, and then we have no apartment to move into because we have no money, alright?”

There it is. The root of all his anger. A lingering feeling of inadequacy.

He wants a life with you, but all he’s got is a measly Family Video salary — which he’s lucky to have apparently, because he can’t seem to do anything right. It stirs like a fire in the pit of his stomach.

After another deep breath, he finally turns to look up at you. His honey eyes are wet and stern. The chiseled edges of his features are sharp. Gently, he pleads. “I really need to work here, babe.”

You nod, understanding and internally weeping. “Okay. I’m— I’m sorry, I was just— I’ve been missing you all day, and I got too excited, I think,” you confess, wringing your clammy hands in your lap like a scolded child.

“Don’t apologize,” Steve says with a huff, leaning back against the squeaking swivel chair. It’s old and has lost all its cushion. His stiff back aches all the more. There’s no relief, to any of it.

He sits back up again and puts his unsure hands back on the keyboard. “Just— Just go, okay? Let me finish this.”

He leaves little room for argument.

You wouldn’t, though, even if you wanted to. Which you do. You’re just not strong enough.

—————

Steve tells you to go, but you end up in the kiddie corner across the store.

Mr. Rogers puts on a bright red cardigan and sings a tune that makes you feel like crying. You sit on the color-blocked carpet, surrounded by block toys, and clutch a stuffed bunny to your chest. You can’t tell if the vintage VHS is making the screen blurry or if it’s the tears gathering heavy at your waterline.

Robin walks by you, does a double-take, and immediately reports to Steve.

“What did you do?” she interrogates with narrowed eyes, strolling up to the counter with a cart full of tapes to put away.

The hearty tap, tap, taping of the keyboard fills the silence.

Steve doesn’t look at her until he’s finished up the last of his work. Only when it’s fully and finally complete does his hardened gaze dart to her. “What are you talking about?”

“Your girlfriend. She’s upset.”

“What do you mean she’s upset?”

Robin rolls her eyes at his obliviousness. “I don’t know. She’s singing the Mister Roger’s theme song and, like, crying. It’s weird.”

Steve’s brows pinch. His heart does, too. “Crying?”

“Well— not crying, exactly. It’s this really weird blubbering thing.” She fails to explain it so she tries to imitate it. A sobbing, sniffling sort of noise. She fails at that, too. Her scrunched face goes back to normal. “Like that.”

Deadpanned, Steve nods. “Wow, Robin. That was really helpful. Thank you.”

“Just go comfort your girlfriend, dingus.”

Steve still thinks she’s joking. Robin doesn’t lie, but she does have a tendency to overemphasize the mundane.

He goes to see you anyway, though, and doesn’t think twice about any of it — about what Robin said or what he had said to you before that.

He finds you in the kid’s section, in front of the tiny television, surrounded by brightly colored toys. He smiles at the sight of you, exhaling a sharp laugh through his nose.

“What are you doing all the way over here, huh?” he questions to announce his arrival, which you seemingly hadn’t noticed. “This area is usually for kids, ya know? Well, kids and Dustin Henderson.”

He doesn’t sound as annoyed with you anymore. You’re grateful for that much, but you still feel a bit sick about the whole thing.

Your nervous hands pick the cotton of the fuzzy bunny in your arms. You keep your gaze on the television in front of you, but you aren’t really watching it anymore. “I used to watch this stuff a lot growing up. The nostalgia sorta makes me wanna puke. But, like, in a good way.”

Steve scoffs. “Well, maybe we should turn it off then, ‘cause if I have to clean up vomit after the day I’ve had, I might actually go insane.”

He’s kidding. Mostly. The universe tends to be cruel like that, but he’d clean up all your messes a thousand times over if he had to.

He laughs at his own joke as he crouches to sit down next to you. He bends his knees, props his arms on top of them, and looks over at you. You don’t crack a smile for him, which is weird because you always laugh at his jokes. Even the ones that aren’t funny. Especially the ones that aren’t funny.

His smile ebbs to a wavering half-smirk as he knocks his shoulder with yours. “You okay?”

You think for a moment, jutting your lips out, unblinking at the television screen. “No,” you answer after a few seconds of silence. “But I’ll get over it. I think.”

Your honesty makes his heart wrench — like you’ve wrapped both your tiny hands around the beating organ and squeezed. It knocks the breath out of his lungs, a fish so ruthlessly pulled from the water. He tries to speak through the sudden lack of air. “Wh—What happened? Was it… Did I do something? Did you—”

“No,” you cut off his stammering with a firm shake of your head. “I did something.”

“Oh,” is all he says, pink lips pouting and wide eyes darting. “What does… What does that mean? Did you, like, step on a rogue VHS or something? ‘Cause I do that all the time, and technically, that’s Rob’s fault for leaving them out, so—”

You shake your head again, digging your nails into the delicate cotton of the well-loved stuffy in your arms. “No. I was just— I was botheringyou, and now I feel bad,” you confess, all quiet like a meek child who’s learning what it means to be sorry.

Steve — your oh, so oblivious one — goes aflame with embarrassment. He’d been too clouded by his own anger to recognize the venom spilling from his mouth; to understand that it would inevitably hurt you.

With chiseled features twisted in confusion, he shakes his head and stammers. “What? No! You weren’t— You weren’t bothering me!”

You turn to look at him, for the first time since he sat down beside you. Your eyes are glassy and swimming with hurt. You try to keep your trembling features stoic. You don’t want to seem as hurt by it all as you really are.

You feel like you should, anyway. What right do you have to be sad when you were the one being a bother?

“You said I was,” you remind him, still soft but sterner now. “You told me to go bother someone else—”

“Oh, babe…” Steve says, deflating just as you had.

He knows how sensitive you are, how deeply you feel things. You’re vulnerable, raw — it makes everything feel more personal than it really is. It makes grumpy jabs from your dumbass boyfriend hurt like a lemon on a weeping wound.

He tries to apologize, knowing that he hurt you and that it’s not up to him to decide that he didn’t.

“I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to, babe,” he murmurs, swiping a tense hand through his hair and then gesticulating wildly with it. “I was just being a dick, you know? I’ve been super stressed all day and—”

“Don’t apologize. I was being annoying.”

Steve blinks at you with wide, wet eyes — like you’ve hurt him by talking so cruelly about yourself.

“Baby, no. No,” he urges, ducking down to meet your gaze when you look away from him. “I’m just an idiot, okay? I put off inventory until the last second, and Keith’s been on my ass all day about it, and I just— I took that out on you, and that’s not fair, and I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, pursing your bitten lips to the side and twisting the long ear of the bunny between your fingers. “It’s not your fault, Steve…” you murmur, almost inaudibly.

He scoffs. It sounds like a bitter laugh. “Well, actually, it kinda is.”

“I just… I don’t really understand what’s going on sometimes. Or, like, a lot of the time,” you admit with a distracted gaze, eyes flitting everywhere but to the boy beside you. You’re too ashamed to look at him now. “And it’s harder for me to know when I’m talking too much, you know? Or if I’m being super annoying.”

“I know…” Steve nods, trying his best to be sympathetic of you. He loves how soft you are — too much to understand you completely. He loves how gently you treat the rest of the world, how unusually giddy you get in your gentleness.

You swallow through a tightening throat and shrug to pretend your world doesn’t feel like it’s crumbling around you. “And I don’t care about annoying other people— well, I do, but it’s different with you, you know? Other people can’t break up with me for being too much.”

“The idiot that told you you were too much had exactly zero personality,” Steve tells you, mostly because he means it but also to see you smile.

You do, just barely. A grin so soft only someone deathly in love with you could see.

“You’re never annoying me, okay? Ever. I love hearing you talk. I love having you around.”

“Yeah?” you ask him, blinking back burning tears.

“Hell yeah! You’re, like, the best part of my day! The only good part of my day, now that I think about it.”

Biting back a grin, you tease, “Well, what about Robin?”

“Robin made me late today, so we’re kinda not friends right now.”

“That’s mean,” you scold despite the growing smile on your face.

Steve shrugs. “We’ll make up before I clock out. No big deal.”

You go suddenly shy, smiling sheepish and tilting your chin to your chest to peek at him through your lashes. “Are we gonna make up before you clock out?” you wonder quietly.

“Only if you’re willing to forgive me for being an insufferable douchebag,” Steve answers, only half-joking. He very seldomly feels worthy of your softness.

You look at him with it, anyway.

Full on beaming now, you reach across the short distance to wrap him in a firm embrace. The position is only slightly awkward. Sitting side by side with your asses on the hard carpet, your arms wound tightly around his neck — a bit like a snake smothering its prey.

Steve feels grateful to be held so ardently.

His nose smushes into your neck. The sweet scent of your perfume entwines with the warm scent of your sweater. He smiles into your shoulder when it makes you giggle. You pull back from him then, just to steal a quick peck a moment later. Your lips smack audibly against his grin.

“Can we make out before you clock out?” you lilt with a shy smirk.

“…That is the single best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Your giggle fills the empty store when Steve rises suddenly and pulls you with him. He leads you toward the back, tugging you by the hand down the short corridor and rambling all the way. “Keith left for the day, so his office is empty, which means it’s fair game—”

“I am not making out with you in Keith’s office!”

“But his desk chair is crazy comfortable, and also, he’s a dick, so… who cares?”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: fictober!

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marvellous1917 · 9 months

Text

Icarus Falling

(Part 2)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x female!tattoo artist!reader

Summary: It’s gonna be a busy day. Giving a tattoo to a mobster that broke into your home was nothing compared to the fact that you can’t stop thing about how fucking hot he is.

Warnings: lots and lots of swearing, mention of crime (duh), fights, broken bones, tattoo needles, threats, think that’s it.

Part one ⬇️:

A/N: AAHHHH the response to part one was actually insane!!!! I hope this second part is good enough. Love u all <3

———————

Bold is reader’s thoughts.

Italics is Bucky’s thoughts.

The size of the tattoo is in inches.

———————

Walking to the shop, your thoughts were running a mile a minute. Holy fuck, what the fuck, did last night actually happen?, James Barnes is gorgeous and made falling asleep last night really fucking difficult, screw him for making me all hot and bothered. Asshole. But one persistent one came screaming to the front- how the fuck am I supposed to tell Frank?

Unfortunately there was not a lot of time to come up with an answer to that, the shopfront coming into view as you turn the corner. Jigsaw Ink stood proud in the middle of the busy Brooklyn street, the black paint of the walls in stark contrast to the pastel pink of the florists’ to one side and the baby blue of the cafe the other.

The shop was a second home to you, the couch at the front becoming a bed for you sometimes after a night out, or if Caleb was being an ass. Frank was nice enough to let you crash when you needed, trusting you with his business. Frank, and the other two artists at the shop, Billy and Curtis were like family - a weird combination of protective older brothers and best friends who were terribly bad influences on you.

The bell on the door rang when you opened it and there was a yelled “Y/N? That you?” from a deep voice at the back of the room.

“Yeah Frankie, it’s me. I thought Billy was supposed to be here, not you?” You yelled back, moving behind the counter toward your station, dropping your bag and taking off your jacket.

“He was, but he managed to get his ass knocked out last night so he’s taking the day off,” Frank replied laughing, walking out from the back towards you.

“What? Is he ok?” You ask, giving Frank a hug when he got closer.

“Managed to piss somebody off at a bar, not really sure what happened, but he’s fine. Just stupid,” he replied, patting your back as you release him.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy but he is an idiot I swear, you can guarantee it was his fault as well,” you say.

Frank chuckle and nods as a response, “yeah I bet. Hey , you got many appointments today?” He asks.

Shit. How the fuck am I supposed to tell Frank Castle - literally the most protective man on earth - that I had to move all of my appointments to next week because a damn mobster broke into my house and demanded I gave him a tattoo today.

“…uh. No just the one, I had to move the rest,” you answer, praying to whoever was listening that Frank wouldn’t ask any questions.

“Why’s that?”

Fuucckkkk.

“Umm..no reason really..” your mind went completely blank, the only thing running through you head were those goddamn blue eyes.

“Kid, what’s going on?” Franks’ eyes narrowing, seeing straight through your bullshit response.

Ughhh. Change the subject right now. “Y’know you call me kid all the time, you’re not that much older than me Frankie. I mean there’s only-”.

“You’re ramblin’ kid. The fuck is going on?” He says, all sense of humor him from his voice.

Ah, there his is, protective Frankie coming in full force.

“Shit. Ok so here’s what happened-” you tell him the full story, coming home from work to see a dangerous criminal chilling in your apartment, the fear that came with that lovely surprise, Caleb’s debt, the weird philosophical conversation, the tattoo talk. All of it.

Of course, excluding the part where you found yourself extremely attracted to the fucking mobster, his weirdly slightly comforting presence, and the fact that the memory of those blue eyes where all you could see as your hand slipped between your legs before you fell asleep.

To be fair to the man, Frank listened to every word you had to say, not interrupting one. But you could see on his face every single emotion he was feeling, the main one being just straight up confusion.

“Lemme get this straight. The fucking Winter Soldier broke into your house last night and is coming in for a tattoo in..” he checked his watch as he spoke, “..an hour?”

“..yeah.” Hit the nail on the head there Frankie.

“Shit.” He says, rubbing his hand over his face in an act of desperation.

“Yep.” You say, patting his arm to try and reassure him.

“Alright, I’m gonna be here the whole time, don’t you worry about that kid. You’re gonna be fine.” He assures you, obviously worried about you.

“I know that Frankie, and if it’s any consolation, he didn’t seem all that bad.” You answer.

“Not that bad?!” He almost shouts, and incredulous look on his face, “Y/N he’s a fucking gangster. He’s fucking danger-“

“FRANK!” You yell, the only way to cut off his tirade before it starts. “I know that, but last night he didn’t do anything bad,okay, and if he wanted to hurt me, he definitely would have done it by now. I’ll be fine Frank, I’ll just give him the tattoo and that will be it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta set everything up.” You say, moving back to your station, beginning to grab everything you need.

“Holy fuck kid, how are you not freaking the fuck out right now?” He whisper shouts, running one hand up and down his head.

“I’m not sure. I think…I think I trust him not to hurt me. It’s weird, but my gut’s telling me I’ll be fine.” You answer, starting to print some different sized stencils.

“Kid your brain is brok-” Frank starts to say but he’s cut off by his phone ringing. He pulls it from his pocket and says “Shit, it’s my kids’ school, I gotta take it.”

You wave him off, Frank answers the phone with a sigh.

He walks off to the back of the shop, leaving you to finish setting up your station. Frank talks for a minute and wander back towards you.

“My girl got into a fight at school, Maria’s busy at work so I’ve got to go get her,” he says, dragging his hands down his face, in a way only an exasperated father could.

“Oh my god is she ok?” You ask.

“She’s fine, but apparently she broke some little shitheads nose for picking on her friends,”

“Like father, like daughter then,” you respond with a laugh.

“Can the people I care about stop getting themselves in dangerous situations for like five goddamn seconds.” Frank says, throwing a pointed glare your way.

“Frankie, how many times, I’m gonna be fine alright, go get your kid and -I dunno- take her out for ice cream, tell her she did good.” You say, pushing him to the door.

“Only if you’re one hundred percent certain you’ll be fine.” He says, already pulling his jacket from the hook.

“I’m good I swear, now go!”

“Ok ok I’m going, stop pushing me” he says, leaving the shop and letting the door fall closed behind him, the bell ringing as it did.

Only a minute passed before your phone pinged with a text.

James:

Have you already forgotten about me that quickly doll?

Send me the address to the shop

Now… please

Fuck me. Why does just his text give me fucking butterflies. Ugh. How irritating.

You send him the address and his response is cheeky as shit.

James:

See you at 1 doll, you better be wearing something pretty for me.

Little shit.

————

You had the music in the shop bumping, using it to help calm your pounding heart, adrenaline starting to get the best of you. Your favourite song came over the speakers so you turned it up and started to dance a little, knowing that you had at least 10 minutes before Barnes turned up. Unfortunately this action caused you to miss the ringing of the bell on the door.

Holy shit - ink and a show, today is going better than expected already.

Bucky slowly let the door close, trying not to disturb the dancing girl he couldn’t get out of his head. He lent against the wall, just watching and waiting…and staring.

Shaking out your hands to get rid of any nerves, you turn and nearly scream when you see Barnes stood at the door.

“Oh god, sorry I didn’t hear you come in,” you say, subtly looking him up and down and damn he looks good. Ever the powerful mobster, he wore a black suit, his black shirt had no tie and was unbuttoned at the top. His hair was slicked back from his face, opposite to how it was the night before. This was the other side of him, the business man - James Barnes: the face of multiple charities, the man that law enforcement could never seem to put behind bars. Last night you met the threat, the assassin, and you may be one of the first in his history to survive a meeting with the Soldier.

“No problem doll, I was enjoying the show,” he says, pushing off of the wall and stalking towards you.

Oh my god, “oh..ok, well I have everything set up and ready so if you’re ok to start I say let get going,” you respond, turning to the part of the shop where your station was, nerves flooding back, wanting to get this over as soon as possible.

“Damn girl, not even any small talk?” He asks, slowly following you to the table.

“Oh sorry, I would have asked how your day has been so far, but I didn’t want you to think I was prying into your business. I wouldn’t want you to think I was being disrespectful ab-”

“Ramblin’ again doll, thought I told you that you don’t need to be afraid of me,” he said softly, sounding genuine. “I know what people say about me, I understand why you would be nervous, but I just ask you to not believe everything you hear, ok doll? I’m not who they say I am.” His tone was gentle, almost tired but still pleading, hoping you believe him.

“So you’re not a mobster?” You ask, voice low and calm.

“Oh no I am,” he responds with a small laugh, “I am, and I do what gangsters do. But I am not the ruthless animal I’m made out to be, doll I’m just not. I do what needs to be done.”

His voice breaks slightly on the pet name. His tone is so sincere and tired. Oh my..he’s telling the truth. It actually affects him to hear that about himself.

“Ok,” you respond, siting on your stool next to your station and the table, looking up at him with no fear in your eyes, trusting his words.

“Ok? That’s your response?” He asks, moving around the table to sit on it directly in-front of you.

“Yeah. What did you want me to do Barnes, not believe you?” You ask, all fear gone from your voice.

“Of course not,” he says, confusion laced in his voice, his eyebrows furrowed, “but I wasn’t expecting you to believe me immediately, shit you were scared of me like a minute ago.”

“I know but I think I trust you? You haven’t done anything to me, y’know other than breaking into my apartment. I trust you when you say you’re not someone I should be afraid of.” You answer truthfully.

“…good.” He says, at a loss of what to say next.

“Good. So, Barnes, are we doing this or what?” You ask.

“Yeah let’s do it doll, and please, call me Bucky.” He responds, shrugging off his jacket, folding it and placing it on the head of the table. You had to make a conscious effort to not stare at the way his arms filled out his shirt, but damn it was hard. He sat silently waiting for you to talk.

“Ok..Bucky.. tell me about what size and what placement you want for this.” You say, “I printed some sizes out because I wasn’t sure what size you wanted, and I can reprint or adjust it based in what you want.”

“Oh you a real professional, huh? Not gonna lie to you doll, that serious voice is kinda getting me goin’” he says, smirk on his face, leaning back on his arms, lifting his hips and moving slightly on the table.

Fuck me, what is this man doing to me? He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s talking again.

“I want to get it on my forearm, the inside, and I think that size looks good,” he says, pointing to the 10x8 you printed.

“Ok that sounds good, which arm were you thinking?”

Silence. He stares down at you, an unreadable look on his face. You break eye contact and then freeze.

Shit. Shit. You dumbass. Which arm? Which fucking arm? Are you kidding? I can literally see his metal fucking hand. Oh dear god.

The silence between you goes on for entirely too long. You’re not sure whether you should apologise or wait for him to speak first. You weren’t sure if he would be offended, having a reminder of his injury.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just continues to stare down at you, that blank look on his face. Looking back up at him, you start to apologise but the words get caught in your throat. His eyes. He couldn’t control them the same way he did his face, tons of different emotions flowing through them, none lasting long enough for you to understand before another one took its place.

If only you knew what he was actually thinking. She asked which arm. She knows about my arm, everyone does, but she still asked. She forgot. The arm is all people see, a weapon, an instrument used to inflict nothing but pain. It’s all people see, but she forgot. That’s not what she sees. Maybe…maybe she just sees me.

He’s shuts his racing thoughts down, fully aware of how awkward the silence was becoming. “I’m thinking my right arm might be a little easier for you doll,” he says, an amused look crossing his face, his tongue poking his cheek.

You open your mouth to apologise for your mistake but he holds up his right hand and says, “and please, you don’t have to apologise like I know you’re going to, we’re all good darlin’.”.

He’s gotta stop with the pet names before I melt.

“Ok, uh, are you sure, because I honestly meant no disrespect or anything. I-,” you start, but Bucky cut you off quickly.

“Darlin’, what did I just say?” A stern tone coats his words and goddamn does it send a shiver down your spine. You internally roll your eyes and look away, back to your station, when you feel two warm fingers on your jaw, turning your head back to looks at him. Holy fuck. He places his thumb on the other side of your jaw, forcing you to keep looking at him as he leans in closer. His voice was low when he said, “That wasn’t a rhetorical question, Y/N, what did I just say?”

Jesus fucking wept. Somehow his use of your name made your heart pound, and the fact that his hand was so warm and strong holding onto your face.

“You said we’re all good..” you answer trailing off at the end of your sentence. His eyes don’t move from yours for a second.

“And?” He asks, tilting his head slightly.

Christ alive.

“I don’t have to apologise..” you say, eyes flicking between his and falling to his lips for a second and then back to his eyes.

“That’s right darlin’,” his eyes dropped to your lips, his tongue darting out to wet his lip. “So stop, okay?” He says, lifting your chin to catch your eye.

“Yes sir.” It’s an automatic response but you can’t help but be a little proud of yourself when he lets out a small throaty growl at the name.

“Careful doll.” He responds, letting go and leaning back, “How about we get started before I do something you regret, hmm?”

Like I could regret you.

You turn back to your station to try and clear your head of all the dirty thoughts running wild. “Ok.. Bucky, if you could roll up your sleeve so I can wipe the area, I’ll place the stencil and you can check if it’s where you want it to be.” You say, not used to the name he said to call him by.

“Mhm,” he hums, releasing the cuff link on his right sleeve, his prosthetic catching the glare of the light above, the plates shining. He places the cuff link in the pocket of his jacket and begins rolling up his sleeve and folds it at his elbow.

You clean the area and place the stencil straight on his arm, and peel it off.

“There’s a mirror on the wall over there, you can check if it’s alright.” You say.

“Okie dokie doll,” he responded the furrowed his brows, like he was confused at why he said that, not very gangster of him.

I like him. He says okie dokie.

“Looks good there darlin’, and as much as I hate to say it, we gotta speed this up a little, I’m expecting a call at some point around 2:30 and I’d prefer you not have to hear it.” He says, coming back to the table, sitting down and swinging his legs up onto it.

You take his arm, putting it on the rest in a position easiest for tattooing while saying “Why’s that? Would you have to kill me if I overheard your call?” You ask, enough humor in your voice for him to know you’re joking.

“Probably, depends how much you hear.” He said, completely deadpan. He looks at you and you have the strangest feeling that he actually wouldn’t hurt you either way.

“Shit ok. Is that position comfortable for you?”

“I’m all good darlin’, let’s go,” he says, adjusting his position on the table slightly. His left arm rests across his stomach as he sits on the table, leaning against the backrest, his ankles crossed.

“Ok I’m gonna do a small line so you know how it feels,” you look at him and he nods. You draw a line about 2 centimetres long then stop, “how’s that?” You ask.

“Ain’t nothin’ doll, keep goin’.” He responds.

“Ok here we go.” You say, getting back to it.

————

You’ve been tattooing for about 40 minutes, and there hasn’t been a word spoken between the both of you. His arm kept flexing whenever you moved away, and he kept clenching his jaw, like he was in pain but was refusing to admit it, even to himself.

“Are you ok? We can stop for five if you want a break? I’ve just finished the outline so I’ve got to change needles anyway.” You ask, disrupting the silence between you, moving the machine away from his arm so you can switch to a higher grouping for the blackwork.

“I’m fine Y/N, how much longer do you think it’ll take?” He asks, moving his head to look at the outline that you had completed.

“Oh it’s hard to say, but probably another 30 at least,” you respond, looking at him while he was admiring the tattoo so far.

God he’s pretty.

“Shit.” He says, rubbing his forehead with his other hand.

“Are you worried about your call?” You ask calmly.

“Not worried about the call itself… just having to do it here may cause some issues.” He responds, lowering his hand to his thigh.

“Because I’m here? I can go to a different room if you want?” You say, placing the machine back on your station, and turning to look at him fully.

“It’s ok doll, to be honest with you, nothing that needs to be said will make any sense to you anyway, and I mean that in the least offensive way possible.” He says, looking at you with apologetic face, tilting his head slightly. “But depending on the news I get, I wouldn’t want my reaction to… scare you.”

“Oh.. well I guess we’ll see when your call comes.” You answer, unsure of how to react to that.

————

The sharp ringing of his phone interrupts the sounds of the machine. You move the machine away from him, turning it off so he could speak freely without noise.

“I really am sorry about this darlin’, but it’s important-”

“Answer it then, it’s fine Bucky.” You cut him off, concerned he was going to miss it if he kept talking.

He gave you another apologetic look, and then turned his back to you to get off the table and answer the call.

You sat in silence as he started to speak.

“Rogers, what did ya find?” His voice changes from how he speaks to you, deeper and more serious.

The person on the other line speaks for a moment before Bucky responds, “we already knew that, didn’t we? What new information did you find?”

Silence.

“Of course he is..,” there is anger in his tone now, “get someone to tell the asshole he can threaten what he likes, I’m not sitting down with him.”

A moment goes by and you think that may have been the end of it, until you see his shoulders tense and-

“FUCK NO!” He shouts, making you jump a little.

“No Rumlow Gets Nothing, I don’t give a shit what he’s doing… Then send the commissioner a goddam gift basket Steve, some portraits of his family would be nice, remind him why he pays us the fucking protection fee.” He seethes at the man down the phone.

This should not be turning me on, shit.

“For fucks sake… Walker is nothing Steve, just some fucking Nazi junkie with a rich daddy, trying to get his hands on my shit…get Nat to bring his ass in, I’ll deal with it Steve… I said I’d deal with it.”

His tone on the last sentence sends a shiver down your spine, what the fuck does ‘deal with it’ mean?

“Ah shit is he ok?” Bucky asks, tone soft now, caring even, “Damn, he’s gonna be out for blood now.. good for him.. give Clint the week off, find the guys and give the pricks to him, let him get out some of his pent up craziness out.”

Oh Clint sounds fun.

“Ok, alright I gotta go now man. Yeah I’m at the shop… nah it’s nothing..yeah ya did… ok fuck off now.. later man.”

He hangs up the phone, takes a death breath and pinches the place between his eyebrows, his other hand going to his hip. He stands like that before he turns back to you, with a small awkward smile. That was cute.

“Sorry about that doll, hope I didn’t upset ya,” he says, walking around the table and looking down at you.

“You didn’t. I gotta ask though, is your friend or whoever ok?” You ask, not bringing up the start of the call where the man in-front of you all but admitted to a multitude of crimes - blackmail, extortion, supplying drugs. He sounded different- genuine when he asked if the man was ok. It was sweet.

“Clint? Yeah no he’s fine, got jumped last night so he’s pissed about it, but he’s ok, worst thing he got were some nasty bruises and a broken finger.” Bucky responds, confusion on his face, wondering why you care.

“How did he break a finger?” you ask, moving backwards as he sits back on the table.

“Oh he didn’t go down without a fight, clocked one of them on his way out,” he says with a small chuckle.

“Ah, good for crazy Clint,” you say with a smile.

Bucky let’s out a sharp quick laugh, “that exactly what I thought doll,” he says, leaning back and putting his arm on the rest, “ready when you are.” He adds.

Ok right back to it. Got it boss.

“Ok, should only be about 10 more minutes.” You say.

“Alright doll.” He answers, leaning his head back on the rest, tilting his head so he could watch you.

Ten minutes later you were finished, putting your machine down for the final time.

“Okie dokie, I’m all done. Have a look in the mirror, see what ya think,” you say, hoping he liked it, not much you could do about it if he didn’t.

He moves over to the mirror, checking out his new ink, twisting his arm around to see it fully. He’s silent for a little while before he says, “fuck doll, you’re a damn artist.”

“Does that mean you like it?” You ask, failing to hide the hope in your voice.

“I love it. Couldn’t have asked for a better one for my first piece.” He says, walking forwards to stand in-front of you, letting you wrap the fresh tattoo, handing him a leaflet on aftercare as you talk.

“You’re shitting me,” you say, “was that seriously your first one?”

“Yeah, why are you so surprised darlin?” He responds, tilting his head.

“I don’t know, just sorta thought you’d have them all over.” You answer.

“All over, huh. You been thinking about me naked doll?” He says with a cheeky grin, talking half a step closer to you.

Shit.

“What, n-no of course not, why would I do that. I mean I’m sure you look good - uh fine.. naked but I don’t-” you cut yourself off before you embarrass yourself anymore.

“No, no ramble on Y/N please, I’m really enjoying watching you try to figure your way out of the grave you’re digging right now,” he says, chucking lightly.

“Shut up Bucky, leave me alone” you responds, looking down at your feet.

“Hey,” he grabs your chin, again, and add pressure until you’re looking up at his eyes, “don’t ever try and tell me what to do, darlin, I don’t tend to respond well to it. I won’t ‘shut up’ and I’ll never ‘leave you alone’… I like ya too much for that.” He says, sounding like a mix between a threat and a compliment.

“Uh.. okay.” You answer, not sure how to respond to his words.

He can tell that you don’t know what to say, so he mercifully breaks the silence. “I love the tattoo doll, it’s looks amazing. You’ve got a talent Y/N.” He drops his hand from your chin as he speaks.

“Thank you, Bucky. It means a lot.” You answer sincerely.

“How much do I owe you sweetheart?” He asks, reaching into his jacket for his wallet.

That’s a new one.

“Uh, say $180?” You respond.

“$180? Damn you gotta charge more than that doll,” he says pulling some bills from his wallet.

He hands you the bills and says “now that’s for today and it should cover next time too, take half for now and half for then.”

You’re stunned by the fact that he’s already planning for next time but your jaw actually drops when you look at the bills.

They were hundreds.

“Woah I think you gave me the wrong bills,” you say, trying to push the bills back in his hands.

“No I didn’t, I know what I gave you. $180 for today, say $200 for next time and the rest is tip.” He answers smoothly, folding your hand back over the bills.

You look down to count and start shaking your head, “I can’t accept this, it’s way too much.”

“Consider it a thank you for dealing with the inconvenience of me having to do business in the middle of the appointment.” He says with a smile.

“Bucky this is 2000 dollars.”

“I know.” He puts up his hand again, stopping you from talking, “I’m not taking it back doll, just have it will ya?” He says, rolling his sleeve back down, doing the cuff back up with the cufflink and placing his jacket back on.

“Oh my god, you’re serious aren’t you?” You ask, unbelievable he wanted you to have over fifteen hundred dollars as tip.

“Yes I am.” He answers, straightening his jacket, “it also may be a small bribe.”

There it is.

“A bribe for what?” You ask, expecting his to ask you to keep quiet about his call.

“I want you to be my artist, anytime I want a tattoo, I want you doing it for me.” He says, smiling down at you with a hint of…something him his eye.

“Really?” You ask in shock, not expecting that from him.

“Yeah, like I said earlier, you got talent. I want more of you on me.” Bucky says smirking at the euphemism he made.

Fuck me running.

“Oh..shit.. yeah ok, that sounds..,” you swallow heavily, “sounds like a plan.” You smile up at him, trying to hide the way his words affected you.

He smiles back, stepping closer and closer until his chest is almost touching yours.

“Yes it’s does. You’re mine now doll,” he says, a dark look in his eye. You swallow hard again and your breath stutters at his words, eyes going straight to the floor. He notices your reaction and smirks, “my artist, I mean.” He continued.

“Although, judging by your little reaction there, I’d bet you be ok with that, wouldn’t you doll?” He says, his tone slightly mocking.

You say nothing.

He hums, then places his right hand on your cheek and tilts your head so you’re looking him in the eye again.

“Would you?” He asks softly.

“Maybe,” you whisper, a cocky smile breaking out on his face.

“Maybe, huh? ‘Mkay, guess I’ll just have to convince you then doll.” He says back, leaning closer, eyes going to your lips before he looks back up, giving you a chance to get out of the situation.

“Guess so.” You respond, some confidence back in your voice.

He hums again, and then he’s kissing you. His kiss is forceful but somehow still gentle, like he’s holding back as much as he can.

Fucking finally you can’t help but think as you move your hand to his wrist, the other one going to his left bicep, the feel of the solid metal under your hand was new, but not unwelcome.

His metal hand moves, wrapping around your back and pulling you against him, deepening the kiss when you gasp.

Reluctantly, you break the kiss when you run out of air. He leans back, the pressure on your back relieving a bit.

“Damn doll, what the fuck are you doing to me?” He asks, biting his bottom lip.

“Something good, hopefully.” You respond cheekily.

He groans, leaning his head back. “Yeah hopefully darlin’. I hate to say it sweetheart but I gotta get going.” He says, releasing his hold on you. He moves towards the door and for a second you think he going to leave without another word, until he turns back and says “I’ll talk to you later doll, keep your phone on or I’ll drop by.” He finished his sentence with a wink, and then he’s gone, the bell on the door ringing behind him.

Fuucckk. Maybe I’ll break my phone so he has to come by. Who knew the fucking Winter Soldier was actually a gorgeous softie under it all.

————

A/N: Ta da! Finally complete!! Love everyone of you that read this, mwah 😘

I can’t tag anyone else on this post so I will tag the rest in a separate post.

Tags:

@sleepyghostygirl @starlightaurorab @scrynexxtins @where-the-river-bends @imagines-of-the-fandom @bigenargy @uraverageatiny @squeezyvalkyrie @mylifeispainandiloveit @mrvlxgrl @bopbeepboopbopbeep @yvessaintmuerte @thecubanator2 @flubblubbb @teambarnes72 @ria132love @pingpongfingfong @cashhvi @rivthejellyfish @mybakubaby @blue-chup @goatsmcgee @facinated-lemon @daddylorianisastateofmind @buckybarnesb-tch @yeahimcrying @shifting2places @fand0mskullfa1ry @1-800-bxrnes @amiets2 @aliabhatt19 @leabunny @justmarlen3 @bofadeezs @jehduxi @grey107th @king-of-spades-aroace @sebismyhubby @princezzjasmine @sebastianstanswhore @cluckityduck @shuriri4life @calwitch @goodkittyspost @iateall-yourcookies @miss-i-ship-it @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @anawhitethorn @radiator-hands @tripletstephaniescp

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #mob!bucky #mob!au #tattoo artist!reader

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gojos-thot-patrol · 7 months

Text

a let my demons get a little silly with it here

Now Loading, Kinktober Week Two...

Synopsis: Ryomen always got what he wanted, it was a simple rule of life. And ever since he caught your scent, you were all that he wanted- your previous bond mark be damned. And you must have wanted him too. Why else would your window be open in the middle of your heat? Kinks: Omegaverse, Breeding, Marking, Knotting, Scent, Dub-Con, Non/Con, Somnophilia, and Infidelity. Reader Discretion is Advised.

Sukuna was going to fuck you. He was going to have you on your back, legs spread as he filled you to the brim, breeding you like a bitch while covering you in his bite marks and scent. Sukuna was sure of this fact from the first time he caught your smell in the air, light and warm and made for him. You were made for him. It was only a matter of time until he took what was rightfully his.

The only problem was you were marked, and sadly, it wasn’t by him. Worse yet, it was by some weak asshole who barely even had the ability to mark someone. Some feeble excuse of a man who probably didn't know what to do once he got your panties around your ankles, much less what to do when you were in your heat. The only thing worse than you being bonded to that douche canoe, was knowing it only happened so you wouldn’t be bonded to him.

Okay, so “bonded” wasn’t really the right word there. “Sacrifice” was closer to the actuality of the situation, but still! You were literally destined to be his, and one asshole wants to play hero and fuck it all up? It drove him fucking mad, what right did that limp dick think he had to interfere? He caught himself clenching his fist and jaw. He needed to calm down before he hurt someone, especially since the only person nearby was you.

Sukuna watched from a distance as you lounged under your tree, finding comfort in the forest instead of the inherent danger you should feel. He had suppressed his scent enough he was sure you hadn’t noticed, your calm demeanor conveying that fact. He could have you right now, release his scent and take you where you sat. But, that wouldn’t have done anything about your bond mark. No, to take care of that Sukuna had to be patient. Which, was a real fucking drag because if there was anything Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t it was a patient man.

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

He remembered the first time he encountered you. Almost a month ago now, while he was taking his regular walk through the woods. He could still feel the full body reset that happened when he caught your aroma, the smell of apple and clove working its way through his nervous system and grabbing his cock his heart in a chokehold. Suddenly, his lazy stroll through the woods was a hunt to find out what decadent creature had made such a perfume.

And that’s where he found you. Sitting contently in a floral field, making a fucking flower crown of all things, and surly waiting for him. He saw your hands falter and your eyes widen as he approached, no doubt because you finally picked up on his pheromones. He could feel the smirk forming on his lips.

“Well, what a nice surprise,” He hummed as he approached you, “I wasn’t expecting to find anyone else out here.” You immediately fell into a low bow before him. Good, you knew your place.

“I’m sorry my lord,” You apologize, though you weren’t sure why. You knew of the warlord Ryomen Sukuna. You knew he owned your village, as well as the villages surrounding it. But to your knowledge he didn’t police who was allowed in the woods. Still, you’d rather not risk upsetting him.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing out here, all alone?” He asked, eyes tracing the way your back curved into the bow.

“My mate and I moved closer to the forest recently, I was exp-”

“Your mate?” The vitriol in his tone made your stomach revolt and ignited your fight or flight system. You didn’t even know what you had done wrong.

“Y-yes?”

“Stand up, look at me.” He demanded. You did so without hesitation, your omega body naturally inclined to follow the alphas commands. When you did, you were hit with a fresh wave of his aura, the smell of whiskey and cinnamon filling your senses and making your joints feel weak. You were caught between your need to honor your bond mark, and the need to fall to your knees for the man in front of you. You whimpered softly as he grabbed your chin and shoved your head to the side.

Sure enough, right there on your scent gland were faint teeth shaped scars. If he wasn’t specifically looking for them, he wouldn’t have seen them at all. Still, the fact it hadn't been refreshed didn’t negate the fact that it was there. You were unequivocally spoken for.

“You don’t smell marked.” He scoffed as he released your head, taking a step back.

“It’s new…” You muttered. He may not have been able to smell your mate, but the stench of a lie was familiar to him. Especially one as piss poor as that.

“If it’s new then you should reek of him, Wench, don’t lie to me.” He growled. You looked down as your shame rolled over you.

“He’s a beta.” HE’S A BETA?! Sukuna had felt rage a lot in his life. Some may even say it was his default setting. But the rage he felt at being cucked by a beta was unlike anything that he had felt before. He felt his fingers twitch with the need to wrap around someone's neck, and the urge to burn down this entire forest was a hard one to fight. He choked back his molting hot fury with a simple reminder: Beta bond marks don’t mean shit. He could easily still have you. He just had to wait for your next heat cycle to do it, when your hormones were high and looking for something more…substantial, then a betas nub.

“How cute, being mated to a beta. I’m sure you’re crazy for each other.” He sneered. You wished. Leaving every heat cycle woefully unsatisfied and frustrated might have been worth it if you had actually loved the man. If your union to him wasn’t purely survival.

“He provides.” You settled on a half truth to keep from lying, one Sukuna definitely picked up on.

“What’s your name Omega?” He demanded.

You told him your name in a soft whisper. Cute name. He’d be sure to have his servants look into you and your records.

“Well Omega,” He said, making a point not to use the title given to him. To remind you what you were. “You should probably get back to your beta. It’s not safe for a pretty little thing like you to be out in these woods alone.” It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that was a warning and a threat, the edge in his words making that much clear. You nodded to the warlord, before making your way home. You fought the urge to sprint with everything you had in you, knowing better than to activate his prey drive.

He watched as you did, noting your refusal to run. Smart girl. He could feel his mouth watering as he watched your hips sway, and his body buzzed with the need to have you under him. He took a deep breath to recollect himself before making the walk home. He’d have you soon enough.

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

He kept a close eye on you in the weeks that followed. Learning about how your marriage was arranged through his servants, and how your marriage was failing from watching you. To your credit, you did try in earnest to make it work. You were the perfect mate. You kept a tidy home, always had dinner ready, and were always happy to get on your back for your husband.

And yet it did nothing. That asshole still acted as if he was gods fucking gift for “saving” your life, and as if you didn’t do enough. Dinner was never right, there was always an issue with the house, and every morning Sukuna could smell your dissatisfaction from the night before- still rolling off you in waves. It was pathetic that a creature as divine as you was wasted on swine like him. The good news was that your scent was evolving. As the leaves changed colors your fragrance got thicker, and sweeter in some aspects. You clung to your beta even if he was woefully unequipped. Your heat was coming.

A fact you were all too aware of. You could feel it pooling in your stomach and feverish on your skin. The effects were already starting, and you knew this one was going to be hell. Your mate thrashed in between your legs, chasing his high in you. You felt close, so close. Your body was trembling with anticipation, electricity buzzing under your skin. All you needed was his knot and-

He pulled out of your quivering cunt, cumming on your stomach with a guttural moan. Oh, right. He didn’t have a knot. You whined as he painted you white, wanting to snap at him for wasting his load. You held back though, knowing that, in reality, the last thing you wanted was his pups. You watched as he rolled off the bed and grabbed his pants.

“W-wait, but Naoya-” You panted, “I’m so close, please-”

“You’re gonna have to finish yourself, I’m gonna be late for my train.” Your “mate” groaned as if you were an inconvenience.

“But…” You whimpered, then let it go. You knew better than to argue, and besides. Your climax was already fleeting. “Do you have to go?” You asked softly. You understood that, as a beta, Naoya couldn’t sense when your heat was coming like an alpha could. You accepted that. What you found hard to accept was that he still planned a business trip during your heat cycle, despite you explicitly telling him that you would need him.

“Yes, Sweetie,” He said it with so much ire and hate, you would have rather he called you a bitch. “This is my job. It doesn’t stop because you’re horny.” He snapped, tired of having this conversation again. His venom shut you up. You watched as he quickly got dressed, then grabbed his bags and rushed for the train station. You fought tears as you went to clean yourself up. Were you really so unloveable?

You often wondered what the worse fate was, being sacrificed to Ryomen Sukuna or being trapped in a loveless pair bond. For years you knew without doubt it was being sacrificed to the warlord. You were always grateful to your father for selling you to the beta, saving you from what would no doubt have been a cruel and untimely death. Naoya may have been cold at times, but surely he wasn’t as bad as Sukuna.

Or at least, that’s what you used to think. Before you had actually met the man, and felt the way your body reacted to his presence alone. Suddenly, the so-called king of curses invaded your every thought, and life trapped in a passionless marriage felt like a prison sentence. You thought about Sukuna constantly, especially in the days leading up to your heat. You chased his faint scent on the wind, traced his markings in your dreams, and envisioned him to endure your husband's advances.

It left you a wreck. Especially now, as night fell and your body temperature rose. Your fingers were doing absolutely nothing for you, and wouldn’t for at least the next week. Which, was rather conveniently when your husband was due to return home. You knew your heat bothered him, but you never knew it bothered him this much. Resentment grew in you the more you thought about it. If he didn’t want a fucking omega, then why the fuck did he pay for one?

You tried not to think about it as you opened your window, hoping the cool night air would do something to help cool down your feverish skin. You lived far enough away from the other villagers you didn’t really have to worry about a wayward alpha finding you. And at this point, you weren’t sure you would care if one of them did.

You settled into your nest, albeit a bit reluctantly. The faint smell of your mate clung to it, and despite your bond mark it brought you little comfort. More just frustration. It didn’t smell right anymore. You quickly took off your sleep pants, finding them unbearably hot, leaving you in just a tank top and soaked panties as you drifted off to sleep.

Sukuna could try and say that he was just out on a stroll to enjoy the moonlight. That he enjoyed the peace that the dark brought with it, and was only out to clear his mind. He would be lying. The truth of the matter was Sukuna had been keeping tabs on you. And while your bitch of a mate may have been inflicted with brain worms, Sukuna was not. He knew you were alone, and in heat. And he fully planned to take care of you, in ways your beta couldn’t dream of doing.

Walking to your little shack at the edge of the woods felt like wading into a warm lake, your trail becoming thicker and thicker in the air as he made his way to you. It was intoxicating, and he couldn’t stop the visions of you whimpering underneath him from entering his mind. Needy and alone, fuck. He could feel his blood rushing in his veins as your scent laced into his senses and his psyche, and his cock ached for you.

He wasn’t shocked to find your window open. Of course your window was open. You were waiting for him, your true mate. That fucking beta be damned, you wanted him, why else would the window be open? He crawled into your room on instinct more than much else, your body calling to him like a siren's song. The reality of your heat hit him like a train as he took in your visage. Sleeping not-so-peacefully in your marital bed, mindlessly rutting into a pillow drenched with your slick. He fucking hated that you were reduced to fucking pillows.

He was right here, you just needed to let your proper alpha take care of you. Let him protect you, let him fuck you until you can’t walk, let him fill you to the brim- until you’re overflowing, let him fix the fucking stench of your nest. He was on your bed and spreading your legs before he even fully realized what he was doing, ripping your slick drenched panties off of you. On a normal night, he would have touched you and known you were burning alive with a fever. But tonight? He was molting lava with his own forced rut, and he didn’t even notice yet.

Mates don’t need to ask before taking care of their mate in heat, so he doesn't even bother waking you up before shoving two fingers into your weeping pussy to get you ready for him. You whine out softly, back curling off of the bed as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you sharply. He smirked as he curled his fingers up, listening to your breath catch in your throat.

“Fuck, Sukuna..” You whimpered in your sleep. Of course you called out his name, you were his omega. You chose him, you were meant to be with him. Soon, there would be no doubt about that. After he covered you with his scent, after he marked you as his and only his, and when your stomach was swollen with his pups- pink haired, four eyed and undeniably his.

He shrugged off his robe, his rock hard cock burning with need and dripping pre-cum. He ran his dick up your slit, gathering your divine slick on his angry red tip. He felt the tension in his shoulders finally dissolve as he pushed into you, finally at home where he was supposed to be. He growled as he sunk in to his base in one swoop.

You jolt awake with the sudden intrusion, your cunt torn between pushing the intruder out and sucking him in deeper. “Wh-wha…?” You were given no time to try and catch up to the situation before the assault on your g-spot started, leaving you a moaning mess. Sukuna lifted your hips, holding your body with just his forearms as he changed the angle he fucked you in to fuck you deeper, harder. He needed it to take.

You looked up and saw a shock of pink hair and sharp tattoos through bleary eyes. On the surface your body revolted, knowing this wasn’t your mate and he was not meant to be touching you. But something deeper, more primal rejoiced at feeling the alphas fat cock. “Fuck, fuck, more..” You whimpered, bucking your hips in time with his thrusts. You could feel his knot swelling inside you and all you wanted was him. Nothing had ever felt more right.

Sukuna had fucked a lot of omegas during his ruts. He ran through whores like they were nothing. But none of them had ever felt like this. Your pussy was made for him, so perfect as it milked his cock. Your body reacted to him perfectly. You were made to be his. You were his. Every inch of your skin, every breath you took, every smile you gave you were his. He’d prove it. He grabbed you in a bruising grip as he bent over you, capturing you in a demanding kiss and taking what little breath you had away in a clash of teeth and tongues. You belonged to him.

He growled lowly, as he pulled back, throwing your ankles over his shoulders as he pressed his body weight into you, folding you in half. “Fuck, you’re so good,” He groaned, “So fucking tight for me Baby Girl. Gonna knot you, fill you with my pups,” You didn’t know if he was talking to you or himself but it didn’t matter. A thought that should have been deeply revolting to you as a marked woman had never sounded more euphoric.

“Yes, please,” You begged into his ear, “Fuck me, it’s s’ good. Fill me, I- I need you.” you slurred together whatever words you could grapple with. You felt drunk on the feeling of euphoria, you almost forgot sex could feel so good. Your words, albeit a bit jumbled, electrified the part of Sukuna’s brain that had already decided he was your mate. You didn’t just want him, you needed him. You needed him. Of course you needed him, you belonged to him. You were his and his alone.

His his his his-

Then he smelled it. In the sea of apple, clove and cinnamon whiskey a sharp mildew scent hit his nose. The fucking mold of your “bond mark.” Sukuna saw fucking red, his body seething with rage as he remembered you weren’t truly his. No matter how deep he fucked his seed into you, or how much of his skin touched yours, you weren’t his.

Not yet anyway.

He plunged his teeth into your scent glands, right over your previous bond mark. You howled as he did, a wave of ecstasy rocking its way through your heated body and decimating your shocked nervous system as you came all over him. Aftershocks of your orgasm pulsed through your cunt in time with his thrusts, sending static electricity through your needy body. You instinctively dug your fangs into Sukunas scent glands, an act you were never able to perform on your (former) beta mate.

The relief that washed over him as you completed the bond mark was unlike anything he had ever felt before, and it left him in ruins. Cumming deep inside you, painting your womb white. The warm feeling he filled you with actually worked to (somehow) cool the raging inferno in your bloodstream, and you finally found relief from the hell you had been in.

You stayed connected, him holding you close while he waited for his knot to deflate. You thought about Naoya. You had never been able to properly mark him because he didn’t have scent glands for you to mark. It met you were never really bonded, not like how you were bonded to Sukuna now. But, he was technically still your husband. This was his house and his bed you were getting fucked by a perfect stranger in. How would he react when he found you here with the warlord that owned the land? Would he find you here?

Would you regret it?

You didn’t have time to really consider the ramifications of your actions before Ryomen was moving inside you again, and the last thing you wanted to think about was the boy that abandoned you. You whined underneath him, bringing your hands to tangle in his hair. He pressed his forehead to yours in response.

“Still with me Omega?” He asked as he started to pick up the pace, making you whine underneath him.

“I’m here my lord,” You mumbled softly.

“Good,” He punctuated the word with a sharp kiss before straightening up, “Cause it’s gonna take more than just that to knock you up.” He chuckled as his hips started to piston into yours, setting a punishing pace. The natural curve of his cock was seemingly designed to bully your hypersensitive g-spot, stimulating your body back to life as you gripped the sheets under you.

“Aww, look at my pretty little omega,” Sukuna cooed mockingly as he fucked his cum back into you, “All fucked out and full. Feels good to actually cum after spending so much time with a limp dick, doesn’t it slut?” Apparently, all it took was him getting to cum once for him to find his voice.

“So good, so fucking good.” You whimpered, “So big, so full…” And you had no problem feeding into it. His claws dug into your hips, leaving bruises defined enough you could take his fingerprints off of them. He watched the way your tits bounced as you tried to feebly hold onto the sheet, attempting to ground yourself however you could. He watched his bulge appear and reappear in your stomach with every thrust. He watched the way your skin glistened in the moonlight, begging him to mark it. He watched the way your eyes fluttered and glazed over with dazed pleasure.

But the real show was happening where the two of you were connected. Where your slick coated his cock, creating a foamy ring around the base. Where your natural lube mixed with his load, making the most vulgar sounds as he fucked your quivering cunt. God, he couldn’t have asked for a better mate.

Your warm pussy hugged him perfectly, begging him for more and pulling him even deeper into you with every thrust. Every movement of your hips sent a wave of euphoria through him, and he desperately chased both of your highs. He wanted to see you cum. He didn’t get to the first time.

He wouldn’t make that mistake again. You were finally finally his after months of coveting you. Of watching you, of needing you wanting you, of imagining you, you finally belonged to him. He was going to see what you looked like when you came for him god damn it!

“You gonna cream for me again Sweetheart?” He growled, “Squirt all over my dick like a good girl? I know you are, I can feel it, fuck-” His words fell apart on his tongue as you clenched around him. Stars blotted out your vision as your second climax started to creep up on you, slowly tingling up your spine and taking over your body. You bucked your hips into his erratically, chasing the high only he could give you. Sparks of bliss exploded under your skin as you felt him start to swell again.

And suddenly he felt way too far away. You needed him closer. You needed his scent, his skin, him. You ripped one of your hands away from the bedsheets and reached out, trying to communicate what you wanted. His head tilted to the side and he scoffed as he looked at your outstretched hand.

“Words slut, what do you want?” He growled.

“My mate.” You whimpered. He was immediately leaning down to you, pressing his chest to yours and letting your fingers intertwine with his. How could he deny you your mate? Your body exploded into a thousand sparks of ecstasy where his skin ment yours. His scent wrapped around your senses like an old blanket, cozy and familiar and safe. You whined softly and closed your eyes to embrace for impact.

“No.” He growled, using his free hand to pull your hair and force your eyes open, “Look at me.” He demanded. Your watery eyes held his fiery ones as you moaned pathetically under him.

“I’m so close..”

“Then cum for me.” The floodgates opened and you were suddenly drowning in a sea of ecstasy and dopamine. Your hips thrashed against your will and your legs shook like the last leaves on autumn trees. You swore you saw entire galaxies be born before your eyes as you were hit with one of the hardest climaxes of your life. Your eyes watered as they looked into his, your skin felt flushed against his touch, and your grip on his hand tightened.

“Fuck, Ryomen…” He hadn’t heard his first name spoken in years. His body slammed into yours as his own climax hit him with a brick. He fucked you as best as he could through his knot, riding out both of your highs as he filled you to the point of overflowing and then some. His entire body was racked with euphoria as he came harder than he even thought possible.

He collapsed on top of you, rolling you both to the side so he didn’t crush you with his body weight. For a while, the only sound was of the two of you trying to catch your breath. You felt his arms wrap around you and calloused hands rub your back gently to sooth you. He kissed your neck almost sweetly.

“You’re doing so good sweetheart,” He praised in a whisper, one soft enough the wind threatened to take it away, “So good for me.” It made your stomach flutter. His presence was instantly calming, much more so than your ex’s. You might have even fallen asleep, if you didn’t feel him start to move again, still rock solid inside of you.

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Your body was sore the next morning when you woke up, but the fever had subsided for now, finally giving you room to breathe and think about literally anything other than lust. The first thing you noticed was that you were not at home. You jolted up in bed, a soft whimper leaving your throat.

“Silence, woman.” That was when you registered the body next to you in the bed. You looked over to see Ryomen, fully annoyed at being woken up. “You’re safe. I’m here.” He grumbled as he pulled you back into his side. You weren’t sure what was more impressive, that he managed to return to (what you assumed was) his home after last night, or that he managed to carry you with him.

“Sukuna-”

“Ryomen.” He corrected you with a dangerous growl. You paused, a bit taken back.

“Ryomen,” You accepted the correction, “what happens now?”

“Hopefully you go back to sleep.” He sighed, irritated to have been woken up at the ungodly hour of 12 pm. While he was still in rut no less! He didn’t get a lot of chances to sleep during this time, and neither did you. You needed the rest.

“No, I mean with…with,” You didn’t know how to put it.

“What, you mean your cuck ex? Don’t worry about it.” He didn’t hide that he was irritated with you for bringing him up first thing in the morning.

“....Is he going to be hurt?” You asked softly. Sukuna felt his lip twitch.

“If I have it my way, yes.” He didn’t mince words. Why the fuck did you care so much about that loser anyway? You thought about your mates words, then nodded.

“Good.” You said, finally settling back into Ryomens arms and relaxing into him. He didn’t hide the smile that tugged on his lips. He knew he loved you.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・ Taglist ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

thank you lovlies, for supporting my work! @sk8ttles, @blkkizzat,@littyasatittyyy,@ketchupsush1 and @risuola

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#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #alpha!sukuna #omega!reader #omegaverse #jjk omegaverse #abo #sukuna abo #sukuna omegaverse #ryomen sukuna x reader smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #kinktober #trick-or-kink 23

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oscalesoffeeling · 2 years

Text

people who make tar.kin out to be too romantic: greatly misinterpreting him

people who make tar.kin too cold: greatly misinterpreting him

#same with making him too gentlemanly or too feral.... he's a mix baby it's one of my favorite things about him.#he's a big cat he's a prince he'd tear you to shreds with his bare hands and eat your heart as he stares unflinchingly into your eyes as #your life fades from them. and he'd kiss your hand upon greeting like a true gent. nobody gets him but me fr....#when i write him as being all lovey dovey it's after some character growth has happened!!! like he's different now to me with me bc #he's changed as a person bc of Me. but just straight up interpreting him As Is as a true keatsian romantic is like. so so wrong.#</333 and then people who make him out to be the most heartless unfeeling monster in the world. wrong. bad. stop it. he can be but he isn't #a lot of the time!!!! that's a very key part of his personality is that he has this lurking simmering animalistic rage and cruelty inside #him that he chooses not to act on to keep face. but he isn't like a total fucking asshole the moment he lets his guard down fr.#he can be tender he can be gentle literally IN CANON. read lost stars and then talk to me. bitch. ehafvyuhcgxyfhvjgerhdfc #and he isn't like always pissed off he's just rough man. he's a rough guy. but that doesn't mean he can't be genuinely nice and polite fr #and again like so many people go the other way with and definitely projecting some Stuff onto him (no shame about it just an observation)#and make him a polite kind old gent who just Happens to be a dick when he needs to be. which also isn't true.#he chooses to be mean and rude and cruel and hurt people all the time and he actively enjoys it. he's a bad dude.#he can be nice and good and sweet tho i assure you. ya'll don't get him like i do </33 #there's literally so much wrong with him AND he's an asshole and he's a nice fella and kind and gentle :) ok. he bites with same mouth he #kisses. people. shut the hell up!!!! no one gets my blorbo but me event 128738374 killed 81347758 injured.#he spun the stars on his fingernails (tag)#ellie rambles about stuff #i don't CARE if lovers thought him cold i don't care idc idc he's not like that with his only current canon love interest btw!!!#he got a lot of fake people giving him fake love. ok. motherfucker. maybe it was just a fling. he's Like That imo i don't think he'd #get super attached or romantic with a casual fuck buddy ok....#again like please. me and the besties are the only ones who understand him fr #/vent #i guess!! i guess!!!#i'm not a real stickler for canon but people out here are straight up misinterpreting his whole character!!!! i get him tho <333

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seungbinbin · 1 year

Text

meet ugly - hyung line ver.

not every couple has a fairytale start !!

a/n: first headcanons ! idk if i like this format but i thought i could try <3 lmk what u think ! i was also sleep deprived and delirious writing this but i think it’s a little funny heh

warnings: curse words, very ridiculous writing, mentions of food, gn reader ! (lmk if i missed anything!!)

bang chan

you found out there was a new neighbor on your floor

and you were just so excited to make a new friend

plus you heard the lady from the leasing office saying he was really cute 🫣

so you decided to be nice and bake him some muffins for breakfast <33333

what you didn’t know was that your neighbor stayed up until 4am producing a new song

so when you knocked on his door at 8am, bright and early, interrupting his much needed sleep…yeah, he wasn’t very happy

“what do you want? 😒”

oh 😟

you just hand him the muffins, mumble a quick sorry and RUN

he only realizes how rude he was after he wakes up a second time, hours later, seeing the HOMEMADE muffins sitting on his counter with a little note

“welcome neighbor !!!! :)))”

oh my fucking god 😭 he just HAS to apologize

when he finds you (literally knocks on every door on your floor) he says he’s so very sorry and he’s speaking so fast it makes you giggle

“it’s okay, breathe!”

and he decides right then and there that he’ll make it up to you by taking you out for coffee 😋

lee know

studying at a coffee shop was the best thing ever for you

it made it easier to concentrate on your work, it smelled delicious, and the baristas knew you so they always gave you a little cake pop for free <3

you had been hard at work for hours :( poor baby, midterm season is ROUGH

deciding to take a break to rest your eyes from looking at your screen, and your hands from writing, you took a look around and spotted the most beautiful man you had ever seen in your entire life: lee minho !

his hands were full and he looked very annoyed and you thought "woah that's so much coffee!"

what you didn't know is that he had lost the rock, paper, scissors game for coffee duty <///3

and now he was a little (very) irritated carrying 8 cups of coffee

trying to balance 8 large iced americanos was kind of hard, especially in a crowded coffee shop in the middle of lunch rush

but he had everything under control !

until someone bumped into him while he walked past your table

suddenly there was coffee everywhere; on his shirt, on his face and hair, on your face and hair...and all over your table

thankfully, you had managed to pull your laptop away from the disaster before any coffee got on it

however...your review was all wet and messed up

your 6 page, hand-written review you had been working on for the past 4 hours

"holy shit, i'm so sorry-"

and then you were crying 🧍🏻‍♀️ he didn't know what to do

when you explained everything, he offered to rewrite the review for you 🥹

he took the soggy papers with him, then asked for your number (just to ask what he should write and give you the review, totally not because you were the cutest ever! )

changbin

changbin was having an off-day at the gym

he had been trying to beat his last pr but something felt…off

maybe he pulled a muscle while practicing choreography, or his new pre-workout never kicked in

whatever it was, his mind-muscle connection was off and it was beginning to frustrate him

he was so stiff and crampy and ready to go home after his barely-successful arm day >:(

he was angrily typing on his phone with one hand, complaining about his day to chan and holding a 40 pound dumbbell on the other

definitely not watching where he was going !

he walked right into a bench and hit his shin very hard ! ouchie !

which made him lose his grip on the dumbbell and he dropped it

…right on your foot 🥴

“OW, FUCK!”

“oh NO, ARE YOU HURT!?”

“OF COURSE I AM, YOU ASSHOLE, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!”

please don’t yell at him he didn’t mean to ! he tears up when he sees you start to cry in pain :(

so he apologizes (and keeps doing so as he carries you to his car so he can drive you to the hospital)

when you told him your roommates were out of town and you weren’t from the area, he offered to stay with you :(

and also offered to pay for any medical expenses

oh he just felt so bad 😞

but it’s okay! the doctor said it was a minor fracture that should heal up in no time !

and like…changbin made you laugh the entire time and he’s so kind and nice and pretty and buff…

perhaps you could forgive him for shattering your big toe! but just this once !

hyunjin

you just wanted a nice, peaceful day at the park

the weather was perfect for a picnic and a book and you just had to take the opportunity

a lot of other people had the same idea to visit the local park

hyunjin included! he wanted kkami to get some fresh air and to stretch his legs from being holed up in his art studio all day

everything was going perfectly fine

and then kkami managed to get out of his leash

chaos ensued; everyone could hear his dramatic ass screaming and chasing his little dog 😭

surprise! kkami ended up at your picnic bc he wanted to eat your snacks

“hello, sweet boy!”

he was so friendly, everything was going so well! you even offered him a strawberry

and then he peed on your book

and bit your finger 🧍🏻‍♀️

hyunjin gets there 30 seconds too late and now he has to apologize for kkami and his chihuahua-ness

“oh my fucking god, i’m so sorry, i don’t know why he would do that! are you okay!?”

yes you are…there’s a beautiful man right in front of you holding your hand and checking on you ‼️

there’s still dog pee on your book tho

“there’s a bookstore near by, can i buy you another copy?”

so cute <3 thank u kkami

3K notes · View notes

covetyou · 6 months

Text

the dark caress of someone else

part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 5

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader x Tess Servopoulos rating: Explicit (18+ only!) chapter warnings: dub con, threesome (mff), oral (f and m receiving), bi reader, unprotected P in V, creampie, praise kink, spit kink, derogatory names (slut), drug reference, unspecified age gap, one singular queef (I'm not sorry), one face slap (with a dick)word count: 6.2k chapter summary: After a little white lie, you go to pick up your dads medication, only to be met by an angry Joel and a (not so) surprise visitor.

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love for this silly little series. I appreciate your amazing comments so much, and I don't quite know what to do with myself.

Piggy in the middle is fuckin difficult man. But I guess life imitates art and sometimes there do just be too many holes, hands and other body parts to keep track of. Also pls excuse me but I'm, like, really bi. And Anna Torv's Tess has my whole entire pussy heart.

this part is dedicated to 'The Sweaty Javi' and 'The Hillbilly Duck Hunter' (courtesy of the wonderful @morallyinept). thank you for your services. (pls drink responsibly)

also a shout out to slasher!joel's big ol' balls (spawned by @toxicanonymity) they've been on my mind literally all week and you would not believe the ball content I had to cut from this. only a smidgen of balls remain, but the balls are there in spirit. thanks for the ballspo bb.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

song: someone new by Hozier dividers: @saradika

Your dad shook as he threw back his last pill, swallowing dry before chasing it down with a sip of water. He'd been making weak comments about needing to get more all week and you'd always stopped him. You didn't want him to go. You wanted to go.

You both knew that the pushback was all for show, but now a little white lie meant the show was over, for him at least.

"Joel doesn't want you coming to get your pills yourself anymore," you'd told him. It was a barefaced lie, but felt better than telling him the truth. How, exactly, do you tell your dad you're whoring yourself to his drug dealer?

You were fairly certain your dad knew what kind of man Joel Miller was. A Nice Man to some, maybe, but his reputation preceded him. He was known for helping out people when they got into tricky spots. Not all the time, of course, but when you had something he took a fancying to, he'd be more than willing to come to an agreement. Maybe your dad already knew what you were doing for him, for you. Maybe he noticed you had more ration cards these days, a spring in your step. You wondered if he cared, if he'd ever try to stop you.

You make your way to the nicer part of the QZ again the next day. You have a free shift and, despite your dad's protests that you should go spend it with friends, you find yourself climbing chipped steps to an empty hallway once more.

You had left the last time with the slick of oil between your cheeks, down your legs, between your thighs. It had taken days to wash off completely. You didn't mind one bit - whenever you moved the slick of it reminding you of him buried in you to the hilt, fucking you half to death in a way you'd never imagined. Embarrassment, shame, you shouldn't like this, melding together and melting away as he pummelled into you from behind. You'd practically rubbed yourself raw thinking about it, but it was never quite enough.

Uncontrollable excitement thrums through you as you approach his door. And, well, you should have known.

Each time you turn up to Joel Miller's door thinking you know what to expect, and each time you're wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. It seems this time is no different.

You hear it before you even get to the door. Raised voices - a man shouting, a girl crying. You hear muffled snippets of the argument - "fuckin' daddy" here, "you're an asshole" there. You don't want to leave, but the sound of it makes you nervous. The unexpected usually hit when you were already trapped inside Joel's apartment, not when you were waiting in the corridor for the door to open.

You decide to turn and leave, you can come back later or another day, your dad can wait. You can wait. But then the door is opening and a topless brunette is rushing out into the hallway, nearly knocking into you in the process. Tears are streaming down her face as she shoves her arms into her t-shirt, hurrying away muttering "asshole" under her breath.

You watch as she leaves, turning your head back to the open door only when you see movement out the corner of your eye.

You'd never seen him like this. White fury burned behind his eyes as he came to slam the door in the girl's wake. He sees you and halts, fingers gripping the wood so tight you think it might splinter.

"Where's your daddy," he snarls at you.

"At home, in bed. He needs-"

"I know what he fuckin' needs. Get in."

He stalks away from the door, leaving it wide open for you to enter. You follow him in. You'd been trapped in here with him before, but it never felt like this. The fear you had before was because of the unknown, the new - he was a strange man in a strange place. Now he was a man you somewhat knew and trusted, yet in this moment you feared him. You were suddenly keenly aware that he could hurt you, really actually hurt you, if he wanted to.

A cupboard door clanks shut, making you jump, then his imposing figure is stomping back over to you. Grabbing your hand, he wretches it open, pushes a pill packet into your palm, and closes it into a fist around the plastic.

"You can see yourself out," he growls before walking away from you, leaving you standing there, confused.

You frown as you look between the pills he'd just given you and him. "But -"

"But fuckin' what," he yells, turning on you. "I gave you what you want, now go."

You're a fucking idiot, poking the already angry bear, but you step forward anyway. "That's not what I want."

He scoffs at you, hands on hips, shaking his head in disbelief. You felt small just because of the size of him usually, but now he was making you feel small in other ways.

"Use me."

"Use you? You want me to use you?"

You shrug your shoulders. "That's what this is, right? You give me what I want, and I give you what you want." He'd said it himself last time, and now here you were using his own words against him.

"And you think using you is what I want?"

You look him straight in the eye, balls bigger than the universe and say, "Yes."

Angry feet drag him to you, toes stopping barely an inch away from your own. He stares down at you, challenging you to look away, but you crane your neck and keep your eyes locked with his.

When he brings one massive hand gently to your neck, holding your gaze, you try not to flinch. Joel notices, fiery gaze briefly softening, he doesn't want you to be scared of him, and allows the cradle of his hand to push against your throat. You feel your pulse thunder beneath his palm just before the pressure releases.

"You got one last hole I ain't tried yet," he murmurs, dragging the rough pad of his thumb up your jaw and across the swell of your bottom lip. You fight not to kiss it, to take it into your mouth and show him how useful you can be.

The hand drags down your body, fingertips pulling at the neckline of your shirt, before he reaches its hem. You think he's going to put a hand up it, feel your bare skin underneath. Instead he bunches the fabric taught against your chest in one fist, yanking you even closer to him, his fist keeping you from falling flush against his torso.

"Take this off," his breath whispers across your face.

Grip loosening on your shirt, you try not to stumble back as you pull your shirt over your head, cheeks heating when you briefly get it caught on your chin. You weren't wearing a bra today, but if he notices he doesn't react.

Fingers tug at your belt loops. "And these."

You unbutton your pants, pulling them down your legs and off your body, taking your shoes with them. You try not to think about if the other girl was this dressed when Joel decided to kick her out.

Joel kicks your clothes away from you, you watch them skid across the floor, pill packet clattering along with them, before turning back, the fire in his eyes back and all softness forgotten.

"On your fuckin' knees."

You thud to your knees and look up at him. He takes a step back, as if he suddenly doesn't trust himself to be close to you. The thought of him actually hurting you crosses your mind again - you wonder if that'd turn you on the same as the other things he does, the things he does to hurt but make you feel good too. Maybe it would. Maybe if he really wanted to you'd let him.

His eyes rake down your body, taking in your bare tits, nipples hardened under the chill of the room, down the swell of your stomach, across the meat of your thighs and to the dampness forming on the front of your panties.

"Want me to use you, huh?" he says, nostrils flaring as his hands flex beside him.

Your eyes flick to his crotch. You'd only been this close to him in your fantasies, but you find you're salivating just as much as you do in your dreams, aching to run your hands across him and really, finally, feel him.

As if reading your mind, his hand caresses across the front of his pants. Where there had been nothing but the soft shape of him before was a growing tent as he hardened before you. "You want this?"

You nod.

He threads a hand through your hair, scratching at your scalp and cradling your head in his palm. He forces your head back further, until you're looking directly up at him.

"You're gonna have to ask nicely for it, sweetheart."

"Please can I have it," you beg, sounding as needy as you feel. You've never needed anything more than you need this. You know he can see it in your face, in the way you lick your lips as you take him in.

He yanks his pants down in an instant, cock bouncing from their confines. He grabs it in his fist, large hand stroking gently up his length to tug at his tip as he grows. It looks huge in his hand, but you know it'd look so much bigger in yours.

You look up at him wide eyed as you watch him stroke himself. A few strokes and he's solid already. For all you've done with him, for how you've had him inside you, you've never seen it this close. Never seen how veins ripple under skin, foreskin moves back with the movement of his hand to reveal his flushed tip, slit beckoning you to taste.

"Please can I have your co- "

The hard length of him collides harshly with the side of your face. Your lips part in a gasp. You stop yourself from chasing it and engulfing it with your mouth. He hasn't said you could, and you're not stepping a toe out of line. He needs you to be good.

"You really want it?" he teases.

You nod frantically. You must look dumb, like one of those nodding dog ornaments from years ago - glassy eyed and head bobbing at just about anything.

"Kiss it." You do, hesitantly placing a gentle kiss to one side of his tip, then the other, before placing an even softer kiss to his slit. There's a thrill knowing you'd never kissed any part of him before, knowing that the first time you'd pressed your lips to him it was to his cock. If anyone ever found out maybe you'd be embarrassed, but here, in this room, all you wanted was more.

Swallowing heavily and lifting his shaft, he pulls your head closer to him. "Kiss 'em. They wanna feel good too, sweetheart."

You place more soft kisses across the delicate skin of his balls, pushing down the temptation to taste him. Your eyes never leave his face, and his never leave yours. He looks so horny he could smash you through a fucking wall, and you don't think you'd mind if he did.

You keep kissing until he pulls your head back. He's started gently stroking himself again, getting himself off as he watched you worship his balls.

"You wanna taste?"

"I wanna taste," you swallow, sinking down as you spread your knees wide to stop the temptation of rubbing your thighs together, desperate for relief he hasn't said you can have.

"Show me how much you want it."

You snap your jaw open for him, eager to taste more than the swipe of cum he'd spread over your lips weeks ago, as he fists his cock gently over your face. He's teasing you with it still when a whine catches in your throat.

Another tug to your hair tilts your head back, but your eyes strain down to look at the bead of cum that's about to drip from the tip of him. He leans over you, cock in hand and your head held in the other. You watch as he spits down into your mouth, saliva cooling as it falls from his mouth to yours, landing cold on your waiting tongue.

"Good girl. So desperate for it. Keep it open." He moves his dripping tip to your mouth before you can react, swiping it across your tongue, mixing his precum with your, and his, saliva.

You hear it before he does - the sound of a key jingling and a lock turning. It startles you, fright springing across your face as he frowns down at you. You keep your mouth open as the door swings open behind you, exposing your naked body to the hallway and whoever has just entered.

"You home, old man?" a familiar voice you can't place calls out, before the very same voice lets out a low whistle when it catches sight of you.

The door is kicked shut, and there's a thud on the table. Joel is still brandishing his cock as he stares daggers over your head at the intruder. Your fucking mouth is open.

"You mind? I'm busy," he says, wiping the tip of his cock over your tongue again. You salivate at the salty taste of him and try to swallow.

Light footsteps head toward where you kneel on the floor before Joel, knees spread, head up, eyes darting between his face and his grip on his cock.

"Well then, hello there pretty girl." You remember that voice.

Finally letting your eyes flick to the side, you see her. Tess. She seems to recognize you at the same time as you do, a smile pulling across her face as your mouth falls slack in shock.

She'd been your fathers dealer before you were handed off one day to a new one. Your dad hadn't given details on why, but you had a feeling you knew. She'd helped you once too, when a few too many sick days had meant too few cards to get by. That had been your first time on your knees for someone at the promise of pills, and at the time you thought it would be your last.

Joel watches as she approaches and looks down at you on your knees. His hand hasn't left his cock, and he's tugging on himself as he watches, another bead of precum you desperately want to lick collecting at his head. He moves his hand from its place in your hair and starts stroking his heavy balls with it as he watches you.

"How's your daddy?" she pouts in mock empathy before addressing Joel, laughing.

"Gotta say, didn't expect this when I handed 'em off to you. Told you the daughter's mouth was good, didn't I?"

"I wouldn't know, I was only just about to find out," he grits out. His hands are still slowly working over himself as he talks to her. You watch as his eyes roam up and down her body, then flick to you down at his feet. Your body heats as you watch him ogle her - you think it may be jealousy until your own eyes trail the same path down her body before resting back on Joel. What difference is there between jealousy and desire, really.

"The first time you get to mess with one, and I get to witness it? Lucky me," she grins as she watches Joel thread a hand back through your hair, drawing your attention back to him completely.

"S'not the first time," he whispers as he pulls you forward, nodding at you to open your mouth once more.

"Then what the fuck have you been doing with her?"

Joel rolls his eyes at her, instead opting to feed the head of his cock into your mouth.

Your mouth engulfs his tip, warm and wet, he sucks in a breath closing his eyes, grip tightening in your hair. You let your tongue swirl around him, feeling the ridge of his head and tasting the bitter sweet salt of his cum on his skin. Your fingers curl into the rough fabric of his pants, anchoring you to him as you bob your head over his tip, circling your tongue over every inch of it.

"Oh fuck, that's right," he moans. "That taste good?"

He looks down as you nod, your moan of confirmation around his cock pulling another groan from his chest as his eyes fall closed again.

"Fuck yeah, it does."

Tess had all but gone from your mind until you hear the tap of shoes on the floor, and feel as she crouches beside you. A soft hand comes to your face, stroking the hollow of your cheek as you suck more of Joel's cock into your mouth.

You feel soft lips press a kiss to that very same hollow, the feeling of being kissed making you sigh. His eyes snap open, he'd been so lost in the feeling of your mouth on him that he hadn't noticed Tess's approach either. Now he was looking down at two women at his feet, eyes burning holes into yours where they fluttered in your head.

She begins nuzzling your hair, your neck, placing soft kisses across your bare skin. You keep your focus on Joel, staring at him with the same intensity he stares at you. Soft hands start to roam up and down your body, squeezing your chest, pinching your nipples, dragging short nails across your stomach, her every move making you shudder.

"Can't say I ever imagined a sweet little thing like you doing this," she whispers into your ear. You can hear the sickly sweet smile in her voice.

You moan into Joel's cock as she touches you, taking yet more of him into your mouth. You want to touch it, hold the heft of it in your hand, but you never have before. You don't know if you're allowed. You inch your hand up his pants to his crotch, stroking the exposed skin at the base of him with your fingertips. The hand in your hair twitches, and you hear a strangled moan from above you.

"Fuuck."

Another shift of your hand and your hand wraps around his thick base, fingertips unable to meet even if you squeezed. Holding him steady, you can finally angle him down so you can draw more of his cock into your mouth. You flick your tongue along his tip again as you swallow around him with a moan.

"That's it. Show me how much you can take."

At the instruction, Tess knocks his hand away from your hair, bringing both of her own to hold either side of your head. She fucks your mouth up and down his length, Joel moaning deep as his hand finds yours on his pants and grips your fingers tightly.

You'd been longing to feel his lips on yours so much that you'd never considered what his hand might feel like on yours. It's the opposite of electric - the heavy heat of his rough hand grounding you, finally, as you take him in in full clarity.

"Shit that's good," he sighs as you're dragged along him by Tess's hands.

"You hear that? He thinks you're doing a good job," Tess says from beside you, pushing your head down to take more of him with a kiss to your cheek.

You start to gag as she pushes you down - it had been so long since you'd done this, and Joel's size wasn't exactly forgiving to the less experienced - but you carry on, moaning again when the welcome distraction of Tess's body pushes against yours.

"Nothin' but a cocksucking slut, huh?" Joel murmurs down to you almost affectionately, moving a stray hair from across your face. Yes you want to say, but it comes out a garbled mess as Tess laughs at you once again.

With another firm push of your head, your mouth slips down and takes Joel even further to the back of your throat. You cough and splutter, trying to push yourself back using your hand against Joel's thick thighs, but Tess holds you down with his cock buried in your throat. Joel's hand grips yours tighter still.

"Don't," he snarls. "If I wanted her chokin' on it I'd fuck her face."

"Maybe I want her to choke on it," Tess counters from beside you with another laugh, but she relents anyway.

You pull back with a gasp and take a gulp of air before kissing the tip of his cock. You don't want to let go of it for a minute. You lick long stripes up his length, collecting the strings of saliva you'd left behind, before encasing him in your mouth once more. If you were anywhere else you'd maybe feel shame at your need for him, and your need to please him, but the heat of their eyes burning into you does nothing but light a fire between your legs.

Tess sees it, moving a hand down from bobbing your head on Joel's cock, down your bare torso and cupping your clothed pussy. Her slender fingers feel so much more delicate compared to Joel's thick calloused ones as they rub over you, your moans muffled by the fullness of the cock in your mouth.

"She's so wet, Joel," you hear her say through Joel's groan and the blood rushing in your ears.

Your hips start to rock into Tess's hand of their own accord, aching to find more friction and finally get some relief. She yanks your panties to the side, using one of her fingers to trace the seam of you before gently tickling your clit. If she could only feel how damp you were before, she could definitely feel the drip of slick from your cunt now.

Slender fingers plunge into you, fucking your desperate hole with force as you work your mouth over Joel's cock. You're left empty for half a second before her fingers are back in you, more this time, stretching you further so suddenly that your legs widen to accommodate the pull of fingers inside you.

"All four fingers, good girl," Tess coos.

"Four?" grunts Joel. Tess nods, laughing, and Joel throws his head back with a groan.

"I bet we could fit a whole hand up here," she says with another kiss to your cheek.

You were naive before to think she wouldn't, couldn't, hurt you the way you thought Joel could. You were wrong, you realized now, as her fingers plunged into you, stretching wide, words taunting in your ear as she forced your head back and forth over Joel's cock.

Her fingers leave your cunt entirely, leaving you empty and gaping. She pulls you off of Joel, replacing his cock in your mouth with her glistening fingers. You clean your own slick from them, moaning at the tang of your own pussy mixing with the flavor of Joel still on your tongue. His eyes never leave you and his hand never gives up its grip on yours.

"You like the taste of pussy, don't you?" Tess whispers in your ear, pushing you back onto Joel.

"Mhm."

"I think we can do something about that," she murmurs. "Can't we Joel." You both look up at him from your knees. He growls, nodding stiffly.

You're being hauled to your feet and pushed to the couch before you know what's going on. The blood rushes to your head and the room spins when you're pushed roughly over the arm, watching as Tess unbuttons her pants and pulls them down her legs.

She lounges back on the other arm of the sofa, spreading her legs and beckoning you to come between them. You ignore the ache in your knees from the hard wood of the floorboards as you crawl over, settling between her soft thighs and looking up at her with parted mouth. You would do anything right now, desperate for any relief from anyone.

Joel has followed behind, watching your ass sway as you crawled to her. Your panties are still skewed to the side, and you know he's looking at the mess of arousal between your legs. Tess may have been the one with her fingers buried in you, but you hope he knows he's just as responsible for your glistening cunt.

"C'mon," he growls, landing a swat to your ass. "Lemme see you eat that pussy."

You stare at Tess's bare cunt, feeling needy in ways you can't even explain, and move to lower your head, eager to taste her again.

She grabs you by the hair before your mouth can touch her.

"No teasing now. You remember what I told you?" You nod. You remembered every fucking part - exactly how she liked to come undone. Sometimes you imagined her doing the same to you.

She pulls your face down toward her cunt, and you stick out your tongue, hungry to taste her. You lick her gently at first, small licks across the swelling of her clit and her flushed lips. You lick further down, parting her folds to taste at her entrance - for all her laughing and teasing, her pussy was as much of a traitor as yours when exposed like this. She was dripping.

Joel's rough hands pull your ass toward him, dragging your panties down to your knees, hobbling you. The couch dips and creaks behind you as he brings a foot up to better line up with your hole. The wetness of his cock slides through your slick folds once, twice, then notches the tip at your entrance before he pushes in in one, sheathing himself completely in the heat of your body. You moan and gasp around Tess's clit, never stopping the movement of your tongue.

"Not sure she can handle it," she half chuckles, half moans.

"She can," grits out Joel. "S'taken worse." He slides out and punches all the way back in again, the feeling of his hips snapping against your ass so much less overwhelming when his cock was in your pussy and not your ass. You try desperately to keep up the movements of your mouth, wanting to feel Tess come undone at your hands, but blocking out Joel entirely is impossible with the distracting pound of his cock into you.

Tess grabs more of your hair, pulling it away from your neck and giving him a better view of you and her cunt.

"Fuck yeah, sweetheart," he groans now that he can see more clearly. "Lick that pussy."

"Been a while since you had multiple girls over, huh?" Tess taunts, throwing her head back before Joel can reply.

He nods, pulling your hips back into his as he thrusts forward. "Too fuckin' long." He groans again, meaty hands gripping your ass cheeks hard and pulling you apart at the seams as he pounds into you.

You slip a finger into her wet heat, curling it upwards as you feel inside of her. She's as slick as you, and you wonder if she's ever taken Joel as you have. The thought makes you moan again, just as Joel picks up the pace of his thrusts, slamming into you so hard your mouth jerks over Tess's cunt.

You try to steady yourself, fluttering your tongue flutters over Tess's clit, circling and suckling it into your mouth. You ignore the sensation building inside you as Joel's balls smack against your neglected clit each time he buries himself in you. It's too many feelings, too many sensations all at once.

Joel's hips stutter as he slams his cock into you, chasing his own release, already so close after you'd had him in your mouth for so long. Even closer from watching Tess tease you with her fingers buried in your needy cunt, watching your tongue lathe over hers.

You hear a strangled "Fuck" before he slams his hips forward again, slick cock slipping deep inside you as he floods your pussy with warm, wet cum. You moan into Tess's clit as you feel yourself heat from the inside out.

"Shit. Shit," he sighs from behind you. You want to turn to look at the fucked out look on his face. You nearly do.

"Don't stop, almost there," pants Tess, almost begging you with your face still buried in her wet heat, lapping at her clit with a finger curled inside her. "Pretty girl, almost there," she croons, stroking your hair and rocking into your face.

Gentle circles on her clit turn firmer, more rapid, and the hand in your hair grips you tighter as you pull her release from her. She grinds against your face, pussy throbbing as you lick her pulsing clit through her orgasm.

That same hand yanks you back a moment later, too sensitive to continue, before she relaxes back into the couch with a sigh.

"She's good, Joel," she breathes, a hand idly stroking your hair. You hear Joel grunt in agreement from behind you, his hands still holding onto your ass, and your cheeks heat with the praise.

He moves away, pulling his cock from where it had softened inside you, watching as a small trickle of cum escapes to drip down to your neglected clit.

"Looks like you earned your meds today," Tess laughs, patting your cheek, before standing to pull her pants back on without another word to you.

Still on your hands and knees on the couch, you watch her approach Joel, kissing him on the side of the mouth as he stares, breathing deeply, at your ass. His cum is still dribbling out of you. You flip to sit back on your ass, trying to stop its escape making too much of a mess on his furniture.

She whispers something into his ear, moves to the door, looks at you with a smirk one last time before opening it and leaving.

The door snaps shut, and she's gone.

As soon as the door closes he's on you again, pushing you back down into the couch with a growl. The air is knocked out of you as your back thuds down and he hoists your legs back, folding you in two.

Holding you down and open, the wetness of his mouth engulfs your pussy, slurping your clit into his mouth.

He's devouring you, eagerly eating all of his cum out your hole and cleaning you of his creamy spend.

You moan and twitch beneath him, having spent the last fuck knows how long with your mouth full but the desperate need in your pussy neglected. You'd hoped he could fuck an orgasm out of you, but as soon as the pressure of his cock in you had gotten good, the slap of his balls against your clit hard enough to send a thrill through you, he'd stuttered to a stop, leaving you with an aching pussy and nothing to show for it.

A strong arm pins you down, keeping your legs back, feet in the air. Two of his thick fingers thrust into you, before he pulls them out, licking them clean, then he plunges three straight back in, stretching you more than Tess's four ever had and making you whine, high pitched and needy, for more.

You're so close, so near to falling over the edge, but his desperate licks are too desperate, not focussed enough on your oversensitive pussy, too frantic. You feel like you've been edged for hours, but your clit has barely been touched until now. It's been left starving, aching for attention.

"Joel!" you ground out desperately, looking between your thrown back legs where he feasts on you. His eyes catch you, catch the desperation, the need, and he slows down, honing in on your clit, lapping in steady circles, fingers pumping deeply.

Your toes curl, tears come to your eyes and your bottom lip quivers. You nod at him. He's found it. Exactly what you need, the exact spot. He's relentless now, his tongue moving over, and over, and over as his eyes lock with yours.

"Ohhhnnnnng."

"That's it," you feel him mumble into your clit. "Good girl."

And you're cascading over the edge, into a pit of white heat, different but similar to the one in his eyes when you first saw him today. You shudder and jerk, his tongue flicking over your sensitive bud drawing wave after wave out of you as your pussy spasms around his fingers, gripping them tight and tethering you down as you writhe.

You twitch with oversensitivity and Joel finally stops, tongue leaving your clit, lips pressing firmly to your mound instead as he breathes you in. Your body heaves and you sink further into the couch, stomach muscles finally letting you unfurl from where you'd chased your orgasm so desperately.

"Fuck," he groans so close you can feel his lips move on your skin. All you can do is nod weakly in response. "You okay?" You nod again, not trusting your voice and still not entirely sure you're conscious.

His thick fingers pull from you, leaving you empty, and his hands gently guide your legs down to rest on the couch. Blood is still pounding through your ears, but you hear and feel it... the air that Joel's fingers had pumped into you chooses that moment to escape in one humiliating gust.

Your face drops with embarrassment, and you hear Joel laugh from between your legs.

"Sign of a job done good," he laughs, kissing down onto your pussy, tongue gently swiping along your sensitive clit again. You try to wiggle away, letting out another rumble, fucking fuck, and immediately still as Joel laughs more.

"You done?" he says into your cunt, spreading you slightly to look at your spent hole then to you. "I think she's good." He kisses your clit once more and sits back, stretching his back out on the sofa with his arms behind his head.

You both sit there in silence, recovering your breath and coming back down to earth. Your knees knock together as your legs relax. You close your eyes, breathing deeply, and let the chill of the room cool your sweaty body and the heat of embarrassment from your cheeks.

Much sooner than you'd like, you feel Joel start to move.

"I ain't mad at you, y'know," he says softly as he tucks his cock back into his pants. "Was never mad at you. Just mad."

You knew that already, but hearing him say it still made you feel better. It made you feel like you'd done the right thing, that you hadn't pulled him into something he didn't want. You were justified, you were right. He wanted, needed, to use you as much as you needed to be used.

"You should get goin'," he moves to stand as he speaks, walking away from the couch and from you.

"But -"

He shuts you up with a single look. You sit up wordlessly, casting your eyes down. He was right - what exactly would you even be staying for, really, other than because some part of you wanted to.

You dress in silence, panties still around your knees pulled up, clothes thrown on haphazardly, pills stuffed into an empty pocket. Joel doesn't watch this time, instead he rifles through the box left by Tess. You never see into it, but you watch his profile shift and change as he reacts to what she left for him.

You move closer to the table, making way to leave his apartment without another word, when he's closing the box and speaking.

"I've had a vasectomy," he says pointing to your now covered crotch. "So, y'know... should be fine."

"Oh." You hadn't even thought about it. You didn't even care. "You... you could've done that in my mouth too. I wouldn't have minded."

"Your mouth was occupied," he smirks with a shrug. "Besides, if I wanted to, I would've."

He gestures for you to leave, so you do, Joel following you to the door as you go. You open it yourself, just as Tess had, and walk out. You don't have time to finish saying thank you before the door is shut behind you, leaving you alone in the corridor yet again. You make your way home in silence.

You dream that night of soft lips on your cheek, softer hands roaming your body. The softness morphs and distorts, growing larger and more ragged. Rough hands drag along you, and the scruff of a beard scratches your face as a kiss too delicate to be real comes impossibly close to your mouth.

You wake in a sweat, heat pulsing through your veins and your cunt throbbing between your legs.

You'd come in your sleep to nothing but desperate thoughts of a kiss you'd never had.

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txt-trash · 9 months

Text

former lover’s dance | choi yeonjun

summary: choi yeonjun is your average dance instructor in need of a place to stay. you’re a college student majoring in dance, there’s history between the two of you and when you find out you’ll be living together… the chemistry of dance seems to bring you back to each other.

➣ college. roommates. smut. exes.

➣ 10.5k words

warnings: smut. Yeonjun and oc are ex FWBs. roommates. Yeonjun is kinda cocky. oc does not acknowledge him that much. smut in the dance room. missionary. foreplay. unprotected intercourse. public sex. inspired by shoong! — Taeyang and LISA

As much as Yeonjun hates to admit this, he’s not at all surprised by the turn of events. Okay, scratch that, he’s very surprised actually—but not by the way you acted. You seemed to read each other’s minds when you decided to ignore each other and act like you had no idea who the other was. It made it easier for him to deal with this… surprise.

When he first ever saw an ad for a share house he thought it was exactly what he needed. He needed a space but he also didn’t want to pay the expensive price it would be to live alone and having roommates would at least lower the amount. He could survive with shared spaces as long as he had his privacy, right?

Wrong, very wrong, he doesn’t think he can mentally survive this unless he acts like you’re a complete stranger to him.

The problem is, Yeonjun is an asshole and he knows it. That’s why it’s very hard for him to hide his annoyed smirk when you introduced yourself, not bothering to even look at him, but it’s alright. He doesn’t care and if that’s the game you wanna play, he can play it a hundred times better.

“So what are you studying right now? You go to __ University right?” Beomgyu, one of the other housemates asked you. You were the last to arrive on move-in day but Yeonjun isn’t surprised, you’re late to literally everything. Now everyone’s throwing questions that you missed and you looked slightly bored trying to answer them all.

“Dance,” you said, “But I’m only a part-time student because I have a job too.”

“Oh! Yeonjun is a dancer too!” Mira pointed out, and you know she was only being nice and trying to form connections between housemates but it made you want to roll your eyes so fucking bad.

“Have you two ever met? The dancing community can’t be too big,” Beomgyu said looking between you two but you both shook your heads No and refused to speak more on it.

It wasn’t a mutual understanding of each other, it was a mutual disliking for each other.

You didn’t always completely hate Yeonjun but that was probably like two years ago and now everything the guy does just annoys you. The question is why, right?

Well… as embarrassing as this is to admit… the two of you hooked maybe once, twice [?], alright maybe three times before in the past. It was never anything serious, always late at night, usually drunk, a little too flirty, you know how it goes.

Anyway, you know that’s not a reason to dislike someone so you’ll explain what you can about the situation.

Personally, you need reassurance, validation, any sort of answer so that you don’t jump to conclusions and think something is going on when there’s nothing. Yeonjun isn’t like that, he expects you to know what he’s thinking and what he wants even if he doesn’t give you a single hint to what that could be.

That’s why when he came up to you at some party drunk off his ass accusing you of playing him, you had absolutely no idea what he was going on about!

Your hookups were sporadic and your texts few, so how were you supposed to know he wanted to pursue something when he never told you? Yeah alright, maybe you had feelings for him too but then time passed and you thought that was the end of your little rendezvous and moved on like a normal person would.

How were you supposed to know Yeonjun got a big head and expected you to initiate a real relationship with him when you didn’t even know that was something he wanted in the first place?

This is why you hate men.

But enough of that, that was two years ago and you’ve got a bigger problem on your hands:

You’re going to be living with him now.

The first couple of days it was easy for him to act like you didn’t exist. You were all still in the process of moving in and with his dance classes, he was a busy guy. Unlike you, he’s graduated already and on top of that he teaches dance at a local studio. He’s well known too, but he knows that it’s not just because of his dancing, it’s his looks too.

There’s a reason why so many of his dance classes are filled with girls asking if they can partner with him on choreography but he always says no. He has a certain dance style that doesn’t always match well with every dancer and not all can have that sort of chemistry he’s looking for in partners.

The last person he collabed with was… well, you.

He can say how much he dislikes you and he’ll mean it every single time, but he’ll never deny the fact that you’re a good dancer and when the two of you dance together it’s very hard to ignore the chemistry and tension there. Before anyone says anything, no it’s not just because you two were sleeping together at the time—hell, if anything that’s why you slept together.

Beyond the point though, the point is that he's done very well avoiding you and he hopes he can keep it up until the lease ends.

“Alright everyone get in position,” Yeonjun said as he rolled the short sleeves of his oversized t-shirt to his shoulders.

“Are you going to have a partner this time?” One of the dancers asked as they got in order for practice by the number they were given. Everyone was divided into smaller dance units based on skill and synchronization for him to further examine before they shoot their YouTube video.

“No,” Yeonjun answered as he played a song that they would be practicing, Shoong! by Taeyang and LISA. He’s going to teach them the basics today and next time he’ll go into more detail before dividing them all by either partner or trios.

He makes good money off of this, other than paying his dance studio fees, all the rest goes into his pockets and with his YouTube choreography videos and the fact that he currently teaches three classes, he clearly has the funds to live alone. He just thinks that’s boring.

A bird has told him that you also started teaching a class not far from him but he’s not interested in knowing more, he swears.

“Come on Junnie, I want a one on one,” one of the girls he taught stayed behind after class, “I really want to partner up for a video.”

“Sorry Jihyun, I don’t dance with my students,” Yeonjun said as he tried packing up, “Then it’s like I’m giving you favoritism.”

“Nobody has to know,” she said in a soft and feminine voice that had him smiling but not for the reason she hoped for.

“I don’t think so,” Yeonjun said as he closed his duffel bag, “Be careful going home, alright? It’s late.”

Yeonjun is not a changed man by any means, he still enjoys hook up culture but he’s completely barred off his dancers. He’s trying to be professional, he’s danced background for celebrities before and he’s hoping he could get those type of connections for the people he teaches. He doesn’t want to be one of those sleepy instructors who take advantage of all the pretty girls who dance for him.

And before anyone says anything, you did not dance for him. Sure, you’re a bit younger but still relatively close in age so when he met you it wasn’t like he was your dance teacher. You met attending another dance class and were partnered up for a song and things just clicked from there. It was never anything serious between you two so him sleeping with you is not the same as one of his girls coming onto him.

When he got home that night he was past exhaustion. He had a lenient schedule but after teaching his classes back to back, it was tiring. It was late already and he expected everyone to be in their room’s doing their own things but of course things never really go his way when you’re involved.

He rolled his eyes the second he saw you in the kitchen and went straight to his room. Yeonjun planned on staying there the entire night until his stomach growled and his snack stash was gone. With an annoyed huff, he left his room in hopes that you weren’t there but life sucks and there you stood.

Your nose scrunched in disgust but it wasn’t because of the fact that he clearly just got done with dance practice and reeked of sweat. He moved around you as he looked for something to eat in the dead silence that you two created on your own accord.

“Y/n, when did you get home?” Taehyun asked and your face lit up immediately. You’ve become school buddies ever since you found he was your junior—but only by a little. You went to school together and on the days you had class you agreed to go together.

“Just now, I got off work late,” you told him as he came over to see what you were making. It was a very sad excuse for ramen and Taehyun didn’t hide the look of sympathy he sent you when he saw it. He chose to turn to Yeonjun instead, “You just got here, too?”

“Yeah, I was teaching my class,” Yeonjun mumbled as he served himself a bowl of cereal.

“What song?” Taehyun asked. Unlike you and Yeonjun, Taehyun is interested in getting to know his housemates. He doesn’t have many friends aside from Kai so he doesn’t see why he shouldn’t try and get to know everyone better.

“Shoong!” Yeonjun said as he stuffed his mouth with Lucky Charms.

Taehyun smiled, “Are you doing a duet with someone?”

“Nope,” Yeonjun said as you turned the stove off and finished preparing your own late dinner, “Not everyone can comprehend what I want.”

Taehyun looked between you two, finding it hard not to notice that since everyone moved in, you’ve both been very closed off from each other. Call him nosy but that’s because he is.

“Maybe you just expect people to know what to do without actually telling them what it is,” you finally said and he is not at all surprised that the first thing you’ve said to him all week.

“Maybe people should just use common sense and context to know what I mean,” Yeonjun said and yes, he knows that at this point he’s just being petty but who cares. If that’s the first thing you want to say to him then he has absolutely no problem serving the dish right back to you.

“Common sense would be actually using words to tell someone what you want an—“

“Alright, alright,” Taehyun intervened with a nervous chuckle, “Um… I want to see the dance when it’s done but um, I think I’m gonna go to bed early.”

Neither of you reacted as you stared each other down, waiting for the other to look away first.

“So you’re done ignoring me now?” Yeonjun finally said and there was no way for you to ignore the sarcasm laced in his voice. It made you roll your eyes as you said, “Probably not.”

“You know you don’t have to act like you don’t know me,” he said and he knew he was being a hypocrite. He’s been doing the same thing, the only difference is that he’s called you out on it first.

You shrugged, acting indifferent, “You’re the one who said you didn’t care if I ever spoke to you again, like the drama queen you are.”

Yeonjun scoffed, no longer as hungry as earlier, “That’s because you started avoiding me.”

“How? Because I didn’t text you? You didn’t text me either, remember?”

“Actually, I did text you but you were too busy flirting with another guy at a party,” Yeonjun said, clearly annoyed now and ready to argue.

“We weren’t even dating,” you said with another shrug that made his blood boil at the thought being brushed off. With a scoff, he dumped his milk down the drain and stood next to you, “I didn’t think that mattered when you were in my bed the fucking night before.”

“First of all, who told you I was flirting with some guy?” You asked with furrowed brows clearly confused, “And why is it my fault when you never told me you wanted to get serious? I’m not a mind reader so stop blaming me—“

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m so sorry Y/n, nothing is ever your fault.”

He stormed off to his room and unbeknownst to you both, there was a very nosy housemate with his ear pressed against his bedroom door listening to the whole thing.

Okay, maybe you weren’t fully honest in the beginning. You know that you were equally to blame for why you and Yeonjun never worked out but you were also very different people when it came to expressing yourselves. He doesn’t feel the need to use words for assurance and you’re the opposite.

It’s a beige flag of yours, not green or red. You just don’t want to assume something without being told anything about it. Yeonjun never said anything so you never acted like you two were going to become anything more than what you already were. Still, it’s not fair for him to act like he was always very vocal about what you two had.

Plus, to make things clear, you and that guy Yeonjun said you were flirting with? Yeah, that’s just Beomgyu, your friend and he would know that too if he asked you instead of just listening to whatever a random person told him about you flirting that night. You just gave up on feeling like you should explain yourself to him when clearly he wasn’t listening to you at the time.

You just didn’t feel the need to explain yourself to a guy who clearly wouldn’t listen either way so in the end you let him think whatever he wanted to and dropped him.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Beomgyu asked you as you plopped down on the chair next to his. You were supposed to be meeting your friend in the library, not immediately being made fun of the second you sit down.

Choosing to ignore his obviously rude comment about your distress, you chose to say, “I just found out what my final is.”

Beomgyu gave you a dumb look waiting for you to elaborate. You rolled your eyes because sometimes your friend annoys you just by looking at him, “I have to make a dance for the summer seminar.”

“That’s easy though so why do you look so dumb?” Beomgyu asked and you leaned across the small coffee table filled with textbooks to smack him.

“It is easy but we have to do a collaboration for the dance and people must hate me in class because everyone partnered up and left me out,” you ranted to your friend who smacked his lips.

“They’re probably just intimidated because you’re so good,” he sent you a wink and although he’s trying to make you feel better all it did was make you think about those moms who tell their daughters that the reason every girl hates them is because they’re pretty and not because they’re a bad person.

You don’t think you’re a bad dancer by any means but you do think that you tend to close yourself off from everyone. It can come off cocky and arrogant when you prefer to stick to yourself and dance alone but you don’t mean it like that. You just don’t want to disappoint someone else so you tend to avoid doing anything as a group or duo. Clearly you bit yourself in the ass here.

“So what are you gonna do?” Beomgyu asked when his attempt at flattery fell on deaf ears.

“Well I asked if I could do a solo and the bitch said no because it had to be a collaboration but she did say if I find someone to dance with she’ll let me perform,” you explained to him, “And it can be someone who’s not a student but it would basically need to be recorded in some way so that it’s obvious I took part in creating the choreography.”

“You know who you can ask?” Beomgyu asked and part of you knew what he was going to say before he even said it.

“Yeonjun.”

“No,” you shook your head, “I haven’t danced with him in two years and we’re not on good term—“

“Yeah but you live together and he’s a choreographer too,” Beomgyu said, being the voice of reason that it pissed you off, “You two can hate each other all you want but when it comes to dancing you have a mutual understanding of what works and what doesn’t.”

“He won’t help me,” you tried to say but your best friend only rolled his eyes.

“Have you asked?”

With an annoyed smack of your lips you looked away from mumbling about how much you hated Beomgyu for possibly being a genius. You would need to ask your advisor if it would even work with Yeonjun and if she gives the okay then maybe you can try and ask?

You just don’t see him saying yes.

Yeonjun is annoyed, very very annoyed with himself to the point where he can’t even hide it. All of his students knew he was mad and they probably thought it was toward them but it really wasn’t.

It’s just that Yeonjun had a vision for this dance and it’s just not going the way he would like it to. He knows that it doesn’t have to be perfect but he wants it to be. He’s got a good YouTube following and out of all dances, if he fucks up this one then he knows there will be a lot of hate in the comments.

He can’t get Lisa’s part right no matter how hard he tries and he can’t expect the dancers to know how he wants it to be done if he doesn’t have someone to help him show them how to do it. He needs someone who knows how to appeal to their charms and move sensually and a bit hypnotizing to match the lyrics. He needs someone who he can dance with and be able to portray the exact story he’s trying to tell with this dance and it can’t just be anyone. If he chooses one of his random dancers and there’s a clear lack of chemistry then it’ll just look stiff.

He knows what kind of dancer he’s looking for but no way in hell is he gonna do anything about it. His only option is to be mad and postpone the dance until he can get it just right.

“So how’s the share house?” Soobin asked him as they went into a convenience store for some cheap snacks, “Wait, let me word it differently, how’s the share house with Y/n?”

“Fine,” Yeonjun said as he added a couple drinks into his basket, “We don’t talk.”

It’s true, aside from that time in the kitchen the two of you barely spoke. It probably had something to do with the fact that Kai is very obviously trying to probe you two into talking so his nosiness is cured but it was only making you shut off more.

Aside from his whole thing with you, he’s actually very content with his living arrangement. Kai is like a little brother that annoys him but he still likes hanging out with him at the house. Mira is a grad student in med school so she’s rarely home but she’s nice and quiet and always clean. You… sometimes you’re rarely home between work, school and avoiding him, he never has to worry about you so that’s a plus.

Of course sometimes it’s still awkward but that’s only because he’s seen what your body looks like completely undressed underneath him but he’s an adult, he can look past that.

Your little game of acting like you never met was short lived though since Taehyun was very quick to catch onto you two but he still doesn’t know why exactly you acted like strangers.

“Alright but how is not talking to Y/n working out for you?” Soobin asked and it made Yeonjun laugh.

It was two years ago, he moved on past that and Soobin knows this. The only reason why it’s being brought back up is because he hasn’t been this close to you in two years. Obviously he had to see you during that time because you’re technically in the same career path but he never had to actually interact with you. Living with you has completely changed that and he has to see you in the morning and night time so it does change things. He gets why Soobin is bringing you up but Yeonjun wishes he wouldn’t.

That’s why he’s laughing, it just seems ridiculous to suddenly make everything about you the second the two of you reconnected, “It’s just the same as it’s been the last two years.”

Soobin looked at him with narrowed and suspicious eyes but just sighed, “If you say so.”

Yeonjun was done talking about you as he carried his things to the checkout line.

When he got home that night he didn’t expect to see a somewhat familiar face in the kitchen.

The house was big, huge actually and it was normal for one of you to bring a guest over but Yeonjun hasn’t seen him since the last time he was at your place.

Beomgyu looked up at him with a jump as Yeonjun took his shoes off at the door. He waved a hesitant hand in his direction as he closed the fridge door holding your drink in his hand. Beomgyu cleared his throat, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Yeonjun said casually as he went over to the guy and greeted him like they were friends. In truth he has absolutely nothing against Beomgyu. They only met a couple times when he was hanging out with you and he thought he was a good guy. Of course when Yeonjun stopped talking to you he stopped seeing Beomgyu too but it wasn’t a loss of any sort. Beomgyu felt the same too because unlike you, he could see where you both made faults and despite being your friend it’s not like he had a reason to completely despise the guy. You can say all you want about Yeonjun but he knows that you don’t hate your old fling.

“Gyu!” You yelled with a huff as you got off your bed and walked downstairs to the kitchen, “Where the hell is my drink!?”

Beomgyu rolled his eyes, “I’m not your errand boy if you wanted it to be quick you could’ve come yourself!”

When Yeonjun heard you he took it as his sign to leave but he still ended up meeting you at the stairs. You caught him by surprise when you spoke up as he attempted to walk past you.

“Did you just get home?”

It was so simple and yet he was so taken back by it that he nearly fell on his face when he tripped, “Me? Yeah, I went to the store.”

That was all you were going to ask him about and before he could ask you something in return, you were already leaving. He went to stop you but he didn’t know why, so instead he just left and acted like it didn’t happen.

Living with four people wasn’t as hard as you would think. Yeonjun wouldn’t even say he’s still annoyed to be living with you because you’re just his roommate and nothing else. You talk but it’s not about anything, only casual conversations in passing.

Taehyun always went to his room to bother him because they’ve become actual friends apart from housemates but he still can’t say the same about you. That’s why he was very surprised to see you at his door.

To make things more awkward, he’s just come out of the shower, and thinking you were Taehyun—he was just in his sweats. His hair was wet and dripping down on his shoulders and he was closing the door right in your face telling you to hold on.

You rolled your eyes at the shy way he acted despite quite literally being inside you but you couldn’t deny the blush that raised in your cheeks. Obviously this situation is very different though and you haven’t been in good words so you were fine with him slamming the door in your face to finish changing.

Yeonjun hurried to open the door back up, “What’s up?”

“Can I come in?” You asked, making him move to the side and let you through. You went in and immediately took a look at your surroundings. You’ve been in Yeonjun’s dorm before but this was very clearly different and that was a while ago anyway.

You pointed to his bed as if asking if you could sit and he nodded his head letting you go while he went to his desk and picked up his towel again. He had to finish drying off his hair and it would work as something he could fidget with while you talked.

He had absolutely no idea what you were going to say.

“I’m going to keep it straight with you,” you said, taking a nervous breath, “I need your help.”

“With?” Yeonjun asked with a confused expression. After being so petty toward each other you still weren’t shy to say you need his help? That’s what made him curious to know what you had to say.

“Ugh,” you groaned, “Well, uh, um…”

Sike, he thought, you’re definitely a little nervous to be asking him this right now and you still don’t know how to say it.

Yeonjun pretended to be annoyed, “Spit it out.”

“Ineedyoutodancewithme.”

“What?” Actually, he understood you clearly.

You rolled your eyes because you know he understood and he was still smirking in your face waiting for you to repeat it. Instead you said, “You're annoying.”

“You’ve called me worse,” Yeonjun with a shrug as he gave up on keeping distance and let himself fall back against his pillows and headboard, “Anyways, why do you need me to dance with you?”

You released an exaggerated sigh, “For the summer seminar, nobody wanted to collab with me—“

Your words were cut off as Yeonjun nearly spit on your face from failing to hold back his laughter. Without thinking you snatched a pillow and chucked at him—for a moment forgetting that the two of you didn’t get along anymore. He grabbed the pillow before it can hit him and set it down on his lap, “That’s because you’re a bitch to work with.”

“You know what? Fine, I rather fail this stupid final than beg you to dance with me,” you were clearly irritated but you couldn’t storm off like you so badly wanted to because he held your wrist to stop you.

He had a lazy smile on his face as he dragged you back to the bed and you would be lying if you said you’ve seen that look before. He chuckled, “Relax, I liked dancing with you.”

“So you’ll help?”

“Yes,” Yeonjun said as he let go of your wrist to sit up better, clearing his throat as he said, “And actually, this uh, this really benefits me right now.”

“How?” You asked him even though your insides were turning over from how happy you were. You can’t believe he actually said yes, and he’s perfect. Your professor will find credibility in him and she’ll see you create the dance with him through his video camera.

“I’ve been blanking so hard on the dance I wanted to do for a video, I’ve changed the choreo twice already,” Yeonjun said honestly, “I can’t get the girl’s part right and um, you know… I was thinking of asking you too.”

Ugh, you both nearly gagged because clearly time hasn’t changed the fact that when it comes to dance your minds think alike. Maybe that’s why you thought it would work in a sex life too.

“What song?”

“Is this a bad time?”

You both looked to the door looking like deer caught in headlights and Taehyun only stared at you two with amusement. Yeonjun wanted to chuck the kid out of his bedroom window for obviously seeing the two of you having a conversation and still choosing to interrupt. It’s not like Taehyun doesn’t know that you two haven’t spoken more than a few words since you moved in a couple months ago. Why did he have to come and ruin it aside from being a little shit?

“And I’m leaving,” you sighed dramatically knowing it would get a reaction out of Taehyun as you got up, “Guess we’ll have to do it next time.”

“Do what?” Taehyun asked as you shut the door with your leave, whipping his head back to Yeonjun his eyes went wide, “Do what? What were you guys gonna do? Oh my god, I thought you hated each ot—“

Taehyun slammed into the door in exaggeration as the pillow you once threaded Yeonjun with hit him right in the stomach.

Yeonjun won’t admit this to your face but boy is he happy that you’re dancing with him. It’s only been two days and already the choreography for Shoong! is coming out so well. The tripod was set up with his camera but he only recorded certain parts to save memory. He’ll send you the videos in the end and you’ll see how it comes out.

You both have spent the last two nights staying at the studio past midnight trying to perfect this for his video since that comes out sooner. You’ve pretty much figured it all out except Lisa’s part. You and Yeonjun were so used to working together that making a dance was so fast and easy because you understood the image you were trying to tell.

Once this is complete you’ll join him in a class or two to help teach the partner’s part in Lisa’s verse.

There’s only one downside to this arrangement and it isn’t bad or anything, but at the same time he thinks it is.

He’s never struggled dancing with another person especially as a back up dancer but like he’s said before, he’s not always as comfortable or intimate. That’s not a problem he’s having here considering he happens to know your body very well and how it moves against his. It’s bringing out some old feelings that he would prefer would just disappear.

You danced the beginning of Lisa’s part which was more of a so for you and Yeonjun danced further behind but not as the center. You were basically the one leading him for this part and there was no denying that tension was coming back. The way he looked at you as you pointed a crooked finger in his direction practically calling him over to you until your bodies pressed together to the choreography.

When it got to the part in Lisa’s verse where she sang:

‘You pull up in the lambo’ Yeonjun had managed to get behind you but not fully as he pressed your back into his side while doing a steering motion with right hand. His hand was down at your waist as he follow the best of the music and matched a swift circle of your waists together that matched the motion of your pretend steering as you practically grinded against him when he bent his knees to match you.

Right when that line ended you dropped down to your knees swiftly as you raised your hips back up following the hand he had grazing your side as if he was raising them off the ground himself.

You finished off the rest of her part on the floor until the male’s part started again and Yeonjun raised you off the floor by pulling on your hand until your bodies pressed against each other again before finishing off a synchronized dance.

When the soft voice of Taeyang sang the repeating shoong! lines, your hips met again and Yeonjun trailed a finger down the length of your arm sensually before bending you back to rest your head on his chest and end with an intimate sway of your hips together before the beat picked up for the outro.

By the end of the one on one practice you both were out of breath and you would be lying if you said it was just the dancing that caused it.

This is what he was worried about. In the back of his head he knew he wouldn’t be able to dance with you again without wanting to do all the things you did in the past. There was just no way he could feel the way your body fit perfectly with his without being reminded of what it was like to feel it closer. He knew you felt the same too because you couldn’t stop looking at him with those eyes that got him every damn time.

You cleared your throat, “One more time.”

That was all he needed to hear before playing the song from the beginning once again.

By the end of that night the two of you were too pumped up to go to bed. Usually after a night of practice you both were too tired to do anything but wash up and go to bed, tonight was not one of those nights apparently.

“Fuck I can’t get the song out of my head,” Yeonjun laughed quietly as he let himself fall into the couch in the living room. You both went home together for obvious reasons and it was so late that you were completely alone downstairs. Mira was most likely at her boyfriend’s place and Kai was probably playing his game so damn loud he couldn’t even hear his own yelling voice.

You still shushed him as you sat next to him, “Shh.”

“I can’t help it,” he whined like he was drunk and it was very amusing. He feels like he’s drunk, he hasn’t felt this comfortable dancing with someone in a while and it’s you of all people.

He really does have the song stuck in his head and was all because of the way you danced to it. He can’t stop thinking about the glide of his hand down your hips again. A feeling he’s all too familiar with.

“Wanna order pizza?” Yeonjun asked suddenly but you didn’t even act taken back.

“It’s midnight,” you whispered to him and he just smirked. You looked at his pretty face, “It’s not healthy to eat so late.”

He leaned toward you and mimicked your whisper, “When has that ever stopped anyone from ordering pizza?”

“Okay fine, order it, but I wanna shower while we wait for it to get here. Hurry up though or I’ll go to bed,” you said and he only grinned wider.

“Yes ma’am, I’m right on it,” he teased as he went on his phone knowing you most likely rolled your eyes at him. You’re being bossy with him again and he knows that it’s because you’re comfortable telling him something. It’s like a form of love language with you, you treated Beomgyu the same and you used to treat Yeonjun like that again.

Fuck, why is he overthinking it?

He shouldn’t like you like that again.

Things were going too fast again. This is what happened last time and there was no way you can say it’s not happening again. It’s because you started dancing with him again, that’s why he’s been all you could think and you just know he’s feeling the same.

You’ve spent an entire week perfecting the dance and each night the touches linger a little longer than before. You have also been seeing him around the house a little more and this time he’s not shying away from hanging out in your room on your bed talking about choreography—it’s not your fault if the subject would change throughout the night.

You just forgot how easy it was to talk with Yeonjun. He was a little sarcastic and mean but so were you and you hated that he could actually make you laugh.

“Alright everyone, this is Y/n, she’s helped me with the choreography and we’re about to show you the full dance right now,” Yeonjun said with a cocky grin as he pulled you into his side with his hand on your waist. You were trying to put space between you but he wasn’t letting that happen and he only smiled teasingly when you whined.

‘Is that his girlfriend?’

‘I thought he didn’t like dancing with partners.’

‘They seem so close, look at his smile.’

When the music began to play it was like you two were in your own world together. Yeonjun didn’t hesitate letting his hands touch your body when needed or get as close to you as the choreography intended. It was very obvious to everyone who watched that he was close to you in some way to have this much chemistry when you danced.

Also, the way he looked at you when the two of you were face to face was with a jaded breath that made him smile when you did the next move. By the end of the dance an eruption of cheers filled the dance rooms as you smiled cheerfully at him for completing it.

To be honest, Yeonjun wasn’t listening to what was happening around him. Instead he was more focused on keeping you close to him as everyone talked around him with music blaring loud enough to create a buzz. His attention was more on not letting you slip away as he found himself saying, “One kiss?”

Your eyes bulged in surprise as a hand of yours came up to his chest trying to push back gently even with his arms snug around your waist. You looked around the room, “Not with everyone here.”

He smirked as he looked down at you with a dazed look, “That’s not a no.”

This is what happens between you two. Despite arguing and avoiding each other, any time the opportunity comes you just can’t seem to help from wanting to touch again. Yeonjun was feeling extra bold right now because he always enjoys how good your body feels against his when you dance. It makes him want to relive whatever you had two years ago. When he called for a short break before they went back to practicing he didn’t know it was because he really wanted you to himself right now.

He licked his lips, “Just one kiss, Y/n.”

“Why do you want a kiss so bad?” You asked jokingly as you looked at him curiously. You arched a brow as he shrugged his shoulders, still moving you along his body acting like he doesn’t have a class full of dancers to teach at the moment.

“I like kissing—“ Yeonjun’s words immediately died down when he felt your soft lips press a light kiss on his neck as you stood on your tiptoes to reach up. He was taken off guard at the first feel of your tongue licking along his neck before closing your mouth in a kiss and his hold on you tightened. Just as he was getting ready to tilt your chin up and connect your lips with his, you pulled back, already trying to get away from him.

Yeonjun wrapped a hand around your wrist keeping you from moving across the room to the speaker, “That’s it?”

“Breaks over,” You tilted your head to the side giving him a look he understood and let you go. He gets it, it’s sudden and the way the two of you had acted wasn’t just something that can be forgotten through a dance. He just can’t help that these last moments where he’s been with you for practice, at home, and now are making him want you all over again.

He watched you go as he ran his fingers through his hair was an exasperated sigh, “Alright! Who’s ready to start practice?”

His eyes couldn’t drift away from you as you stood a few feet away from him and he’s positive everyone can note how he had his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. He wasn’t even hiding the fact that he was falling for you again.

At the end of practice he was feeling exhausted and a bit worked up. The amount of times he got to feel you tonight under the guise of dance practice was enough to make his numbers feel numb and one again he found himself going to you. You knelt down by your dance bag in front of the large mirrors and he came up next to you making you look up.

“I know what you’re thinking, Junnie,” the nickname slid off your lips as you packed your things, “And it’s not a good idea.”

“One kiss won’t change anything,” Yeonjun persisted as he leaned against the mirrored wall. You looked at him with an arched brow and he knew you caught his bluff and it made him smile more, “I swear.”

“That’s what we said last time and then what happened?” You asked standing up in front of him, “Someone made assumptions and then flipped out on me.”

He rolled his eyes at the reminder, “And how long ago was that?”

“Pretty sure a few weeks ago you were mad about it,” you teased even as you traced a finger down his chest, “So do you think it’s a good idea to do it again?”

“I do,” Yeonjun said, letting his hand go down to your hip, “And I know you want to kiss me too.”

You sighed in thought as you looked up at him and he didn’t tear his gaze away. All it took was the warmth of your hand finding his jaw for him to dip his head down and let your lips brush against each other gently. When you didn’t immediately pull away, he took action and fully pressed his mouth to yours in a soft kiss.

Yeonjun didn’t hesitate to let both hands slide down your hips toward your back and pulled you more flush against him leaving no room between your wanton bodies as your tongue slipped past his lips meeting his softly. Your arms wrapped around his neck trying to pull yourself up to kiss him better and he eagerly granted you more access. It was a sight to be seen, the way his jaw moved so effortlessly, tongue kissing you.

There was a small pause, pulling away to catch your breaths and this should have been a moment to reflect. You both knew what this could possibly mean for you two. It was like starting all over from when you first started hooking up and how easy it was for you to go together. The problem is that you two aren’t good at communicating when it didn’t have to do with sex. The thing is, the two of you are making out in the dance practice room where there were no windows or cameras and the only thing you can see is your reflections in the mirrored walls.

“We’ve never done it in a practice room,” Yeonjun said clearly reading your mind and it made you whine into his chest.

“Yeonjun…” you want to do this with him again but you live together now. That brings a whole different set of problems for you and the people you’re living with if you start messing around again. Yeonjun knew this too but frankly, he didn’t care. He wanted you.

Despite your clear hesitation, it didn’t stop you from bringing him back into a kiss as your back pressed into the wall of mirrors with him in front of you. He smiled into the kiss as he deepened it, dipping his head low and trapping you between his arms. He kissed down your neck, sucking softly on a spot he was very familiar with and knew it would have your body writhing against him. Your hands tugged on his shirt rushing him but he was not complaining. You both were eager to get your hands on each other after so long.

He yanked it off feeling your hands fly to his belt loop but he stopped you again. He was slightly out of breath as he spoke, "Y/n..."

You looked at him waiting to see what he had to say but I stead he traced his hands down your sides as he dropped down to his knees making your lips part in surprise. He was quick in yanking down your tiny shorts and kissing whatever part of your body that was exposed to his needy gaze. He pulled your underwear down too and didn’t hide the way he licked his lips at the sight before him.

Yeonjun wasn’t moving and it was making you feel a bit shy so you found yourself with your hand in his hair and pulling it. He looked up at you with lust blown eyes and his pretty lips parted in a gasp at the pull making you look away from his strong gaze, “Are you just going to keep staring?”

A smile appeared on his face as his soft hands pinched your hips dragging your lower half closer, he motioned for you to spread your legs further and as you did that he leaned even lower, eyes focused on your wet pussy now that he can see it better, “This isn’t just from right now is it?”

As he said that he let one of his hands slide over your pelvis and a finger dip between your folds watching the silky strings of arousal coat it. You huffed in annoyance, “It’s your fault for being so fucking touchy this entire practice.”

With a soft hum, he said, “Let me take the blame then.”

His mouth closed over the stiffened clit so suddenly that it drew a gasp from your lips and your head to tip back against the mirror. Yeonjun is never the one to take things slow, usually liking the element of surprise in catching you off guard by his forward movements. Your hands tugged on his hair with every languid move of his tongue over your wet folds, quite literally lapping up your slick like he was thirsty for more and you had no doubt in your mind that’s exactly what this was. It’s been two years and yet you’re still his favorite pussy to eat and he just can’t get enough.He was lost in his own world, hips rutting into nothing as his tongue worked to taste your raw essence and flick at your clue just the way he knew you liked. He knew how to read your body better than anyone else and it should be a crime that the two of you were too annoyed with each other to do this when you moved in together.

His thick tongue never once slowed down its flicking between your folds and not long after he was pushing it into your warm hole. He was quite literally tongue fucking you with his eyes on you the entire time trying to fish out the perfect reactions. With an annoyed roll of his eyes he reached up with a hand to pinch at your shirt signaling for you to take it off and you did just that. You skipped it off letting it fall over your bag and took the initiative to remove your bra too and it had him fucking you with his tongue with more vigor.

You were in euphoria with moans tumbling out of your soft lips and his mouth slobbering all over your cunt made you want to fuck back into his face. He swirled over your sensitive bud lathering it in his own drool as he brought a hand up your body to feel up your breasts making you moan a little louder than intended. It only made the hand on your tits rougher as your hips began to meet the wave of his head with each thrust of his tongue into your pussy.

"Yeonjun—" you moaned softly, hands in his soft hair keeping him in place.

He licked his lips as he pulled back, “You gotta keep it down, baby, you don’t want someone walking in on us, do you?”

“Let them,” You rolled your eyes, and placed a hand over his head and led him back down to your pussy. Too distracted by the thought of making you cum on his tongue and your eagerness for the same, he did just that. He focused on your clit, tongue flattening over it and shaking his head from side to side feeling your walls tighten, repeating the action over and over again. He felt it too, he knew your body’s responses and he knew you were close. All it took was a little suck on your pretty clit for your release to hit you. It didn’t slow down his ministrations as he continued to lick up your climax despite your legs shaking and your hand searching for something to hold onto as you moaned wantonly. Your slick began to drip down his chin but he didn’t stop until there was nothing left to drink, breathing heavy as he swallowed everything you gave him.

When you had enough you yanked his head back by the hair and looked at his fucked out expression just from eating you out.

With weak legs you slowly made yourself to the floor and Yeonjun made room for you only to direct you to lay down. You smacked your lips in annoyance, “Why am I the only one naked?”

“Because you haven’t taken this off me,” he said with a teasing smile and you sat up to pull his shirt off.

You made his breath hitch you quickly yanked on his pants nearly making him stumble into as you lowered them down. His muscles tended at your toughness and helped you kick them off before releasing a soft whine as he tried leaning down to kiss you again. You met him halfway, a messy tongue kiss mixed with the taste of your arousal and spit. With him distracted by your makeout you slowly began pushing him back until he got the hint and laid down on the cold dance floor with you over him.

His eyes fell shut feeling your lips kiss down the expanse of his neck to his pretty collarbone and down his chest. Your hand was quicker than your lips at trailing down his body and soon he felt it slide over his hardening member with a couple experimental strokes, his mouth drawn open in a silent moan. He released a shaky breath as your face closer to his tip, licking it gently, teasing him. You flatten your tongue on the underside of his cock, licking along his base to his tip stopping at his head to let a pool of spit spill past your lips and onto his dick. Without further thought, you swallowed more of his length past your lips and watched his eyes scrunch closed in pleasure.

“So good,” he said licking his plump lips and bit down hard to fight back a loud groan when you held him at his base and began to bob your head along his length with a good pace. You had your other hand on his thigh, nails digging in just slightly because it made his cock twitch every time and you jerked off what didn’t fit in your mouth.

Yeonjun watched the way his cock disappeared into your mouth with a slack jaw as if he still can’t believe you make him feel this good every time you go down on him. It was embarrassing how quick you always brought him to orgasm.

You took steady breaths through your nose doing your best to relax your throat and flatten your tongue. His head fell back with a pleasured sigh when he felt you begin to take heavier breaths sliding down his length until his tip hit the back of your throat. You roughly swallow around him, suppressing a gag as you resume to deep throat him, spit bubbles gathering around his length.

"Oh fuck," he groaned, moans were pouring out of his mouth, no longer caring if anyone in another room heard, “I’m close. Get on top.”

It took you a minute to move off and every second you stayed sucking his cock was another annoyed moment that passed him trying to get you off. With a pop of your mouth, you quickly pulled off trying to catch you breath as he sat up and brought his mouth to yours, “Ride me, you know I love it when you’re on top.”

You were well aware that there was no chance he had a condom on him but this wasn’t the first time you have had unprotected sex and honestly, it probably won’t be the last. That’s the only reason why you didn’t hesitate to lead him back to lay down as you straddle his hips, eyes on his stiff cock that pointed up.

Yeonjun’s hands lightly trailed your sides, licking his lips as he stared down at where your drenched pussy hovered over his dick and he felt a shiver of anticipation run down his spine. With a hand on his base to keep himself pointed up, he watched as you lined yourself up with him and took his head in. He quickly looked at you as your mouth drew open, sinking down on his length, your body not a stranger to his size, relaxed around him.

"Yeonjun," you whined at the first expert roll of his hips, digging his cock a little further into your walls once he knew you were ready and very needy to feel him. He didn’t start off slow either, he guided your hips to ride him roughly the way he knew you both liked and when you nearly fell forward only using your hands to hold yourself up, he met you halfway and went straight for your breasts. He nipped at the bud playing with it as he looked up at you to the best of his ability.

Yeonjun couldn’t help it, you were in a room full of mirrors and he just couldn’t help it. He found his eyes straying toward the closest mirror and they rolled at the sight. Your back was arched like a kittens, his hands groping handfuls of your ass and mouth hungrily sucking on your nipples knowing how much you liked it. Your hair fell around him and you just looked so pretty that he knew he wouldn’t last.

“Ugh,” you groaned when the pace had slowed by him being distracted staring at your reflection and with a light shove off him he let go only to let you sit up again. You looked over at the mirror as you sat up in a right angle and adjusting your legs to help you better, you raised your hips fully before dropping back down onto his length with a little grind.

“Fuck,” he growled, hand moving off your ass and slapping it just so he could watch the way it jiggled when you rode him, "Just like that, look at this slutty body. Fuck, I love it.”

“Did you miss it?” You asked with arrogance at the lustful, hungry gaze he looked at you with and as if to push him more for an answer you leaned forward, breasts in his face and never stopping your bouncing hips. He nodded almost submissively before his brows knitted together in concentration and fucked you back, hard.

Before you could react, Yeonjun was flipping you onto your back hitting the dance floor and taking the lead to stuff you full of cock. You sighed as you wrapped your hands around his neck stopping him from being to move back as he fucked you, “I’m close.”

“Already?” He teased, “Damn, you must’ve missed me too.”

“Shut up,” you moaned against his lips, dragging him into a kiss. Yeonjun was a slim guy yet out of everyone you’ve been with he’s the one who knows how to make you cum and he’s cocky about it too.

“No,” He practically giggled, “My dick making your little pussy feel good?”

His eyes locked on yours as he felt your warm walls begin to tighten around him. A familiar ring of nerves clenching around his member as it sucked him into your folds. He wasn't going to last much longer either, “Your pussy is so damn good, every time, I can never get enough.”

His thrusted slower but still rough, chasing his own high with the sponginess of your spent walls that hugged his stiff dick deliciously, enough to make his lips dry. You didn’t have to give him a warning when he knew his words were getting to you and he finally forced you to look away from the mirror and up at him, “Cum.”

A wave seemed to wash over you, his final words to put you over the edge and just like that, you were letting go pulling him into a kiss to swallow your loud moan.

Yeonjun would have liked to help you through your orgasm but it had been so long since he last had you and still hard from your mouth on his cock, he needed to cut now. He pulled out quickly and not finding where to release he came straight on your stomach in thick, warm spurts with heavy pants. He looked down at the mess he made and smiled despite the way you smacked your lips in annoyance, “Seriously?”

“Would you rather it have been inside you?” Yeonjun asked as he sat back to look at the mess he made of you, licking his lips. A smirk came to his face at the sudden idea, “Don’t worry I’ll clean you up.”

“Yeonju—“ you hissed at the sudden feeling of his tongue licking his own release off your stomach and he didn’t seem to mind it one bit.

“What? It’s mine,” Yeonjun said as he kissed along your body before moving down between your legs to clean up your release too, “All of this is mine, you too.”

“Since when?” You asked as you relaxed. You were teasing him and he just smiled, “Since you decided to dance with me again. And no more misunderstandings, I want you to be mine Y/n, just mine. So let’s work on us this time.”

Things between you two were still kept private. There wasn’t any specific reason for it because some of your friends knew but you two still weren’t completely out with it. You were testing it out first and with your focus being on the summer dance exhibition you had, there was no push to continue to prove you were together now. Yeonjun was the perfect partner and after the exhibition the two of you were finally able to relax.

Taehyun was the one who asked the four of you housemates to go out. Mira was finally done with her intense dead week of exams and she has about two weeks off before her summer courses so it was the perfect time for you to all go out. Living with Yeonjun and dating him has been a bittersweet experience, bitter in the beginning when you were mad at each other, and sweet now where he spends most nights in your room or you in his.

Right now Yeonjun feels content with his relationship with you and as he watched you dance with Mira out on the dance floor all he can think about is how perfect you are for him. He had a feeling that dancing with you would bring the two of you together again and he would be lying if he said that it’s not what he had hoped for in the back of his mind when you agreed to dance Shoong! with him. He smirked at the reminder of the way your body dances with his and he’s wondering if tonight he could ask for a private show again in the practice room. You’ve sworn off public sex but he knows you too well to think you’re serious about it.

“I hate couples,” Taehyun rolled his eyes as he watched Yeonjun’s loving smile watching you dance. Feeling his eyes on him, you pulled away from Mira and motioned with your hand that the two of you would be going to the bar for more drinks. With a nod of his head he watched the two of you leave while he stayed back with Taehyun.

“Hey.”

A deep voice came up next to you as you and Mira got to the bar and at first you didn’t realize he was talking to you until you felt a hand on your lower back that immediately startled you. You turned to look at who it was when he spoke up, “I’ve been watching you dance all night an—“

“Why are you touching me?” You asked loud enough for Mira to hear and moved his hand off. The stranger still smiled, “Sorry, I just wanted to get your attention. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

“I hope so.”

You turned watching Yeonjun walk over to you and without sparing a glance, his arms wrapped around your waist, “She’s taken.”

Nobody but Taehyun saw the way Mira’s jaw dropped at the declaration and she turned to him immediately, “Since when?”

Taehyun threw his arm over her shoulders, “You’ve missed a lot, Mira.”

“Are they dating? How did I not know?” Mira asked him but she knew why. She spent all her free time with her boyfriend Kai or getting home late that she didn’t see when Yeonjun would sneak into your room or you in his. As far as she knew the two of you didn’t like each other so when did it change to this?

You didn’t say anything in response as Yeonjun hugged you from behind, all you did was turn his jaw toward you and without pulling his gaze away from the guy, he let you kiss him on the lips.

You were finally Yeonjun’s little dancer again and if another guy thinks he’s gonna change that then he has to laugh. He’s not going to get jealous and misunderstand you two again. You made it official and yes, he might get jealous but this time it’s because you’re his and not because he’s too scared to ask if you are.

::.

okay YALL this is a REUPLOAD. I’m not a dancer so bare with me 😭

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allysunny · 3 months

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Hii, firstly I LOVE ur writing so much, you’re really talented 🌟💘

Congrats on 200 followers, SOOOO DESERVED!!!

I was wondering if you could do 27+r for Bruce 🥰 something like he left to protect her, it hurt him more than anything and he realized that it was mistake and wants her back. Happy ending tho, I’m a sucker for that haha 😄❤️

Thank you in advance, much love! 🫶🏻

“You left me” / “I was protecting you” / “You LEFT me” + Protecting you x Bale!Bruce

Words: 15.8k words

Warnings: Angst, infidelity, cheating, lots of angst, pregnancy, break-up, suggestive themes and one (1) very poorly written and short nsfw scene (it's like 5 lines long I think), one (1) death, Bruce Wayne being a mess (relatable), a lot of heartbreak and pining, not proofread. I literally wrote this in a span of like, one week, and it's not proofread, so oh my god I'm so sorry if there's anything wrong with it...

A/N: Oh my god. Hello everyone. Holy fuck. Okay so, I hope you guys are interested to know what the fuck happened here. I don't want to waste any more time (the explanation is quite big), so I'll add it after the fic, in the final Author Note. Small context: I got two requests that were kinda similar, so I decided to mix the two together!

Just a heads up, due to reasons that I'll expand on at the end, I feel like the end drags on a bit. I did not proofread because I was a bit saturated with this piece, and I think that at some point, I actually cried because I was panicking real hard.

Anyway!!! I love Bruce!!!! I hope you guys enjoy this <3

Bruce knew you were the one after you'd first spilled coffee all over his suit.

You just looked so worried, your pretty eyes wide with fear as you tried to think of what to say to this stranger you'd just bumped into – or so he thought. You, in fact, knew exactly what you wanted to say to him.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, asshole!" you'd exclaimed, looking at what remained of your iced coffee. "This thing was almost 10 dollars, what am I supposed to do now?"

Bruce eyed you up and down, honestly surprised you had the guts to raise your voice at him. Didn't you know who he was? Did you simply not care?

Either way, he was enthralled.

"Hey!" you waved your arms in front of him, trying to get his attention. "Look at me!"

"May I be so bold to point out you spilled your coffee onto me?" Bruce asked with a small scoff. "If anything, you are the one supposed to do something about it."

"This wouldn't have happened if you watched where you were going." You were very pretty, Bruce noted. Your eyes seemed to sparkle, and your arms were crossed over your chest, making his eyes dart towards it.

"And what am I supposed to do?" He replied.

"I don't know! Give me my money back or something, that coffee is super expensive! It's my special celebration cup!"

""Your money back?"

"Yeah! You're dressed up all nice, I bet that suit costs more than my rent."

"Oh, really?" Bruce was amused one. You were feisty, clearly. "And what makes you think that?"

"No one walks around Gotham dressed like that, unless they're rich, powerful, law agents, or I don't know, Bruce Fucking Wayne."

"Bruce Wayne? Does he dress like this?"

You scoffed, shaking your head and gesticulating a lot with your arms.

"Probably! I mean, it's not like anyone has ever seen the guy, but let's be honest, he probably dresses in expensive as fuck silk, or like, placenta that's fed to and then shat by babies or something."

You only seemed to get better by the second.

Bruce placed a hand on his chin, truly intrigued by your line of thinking.

"Placenta that's fed to and then shat by babies?" He had to admit, this was pretty amusing. Did you have any sort of filter? If so, he never wished that you turned it off.

"Maybe – I don't know – It's Bruce Wayne, so who actually does know? Maybe he's running a society of baby-shitting placenta. It's Gotham. One day we have masked vigilantes jumping off roofs, and the other, bomb threats. Regular Tuesdays for us Gothamites. But the real question here is," you jabbed an accusatory finger into his chest. "What are you going to do to repay me my very well-earned 10$ worth of iced coffee?"

Bruce was just about to reply, when a very familiar voice spoke up behind him.

"Ah, Mr. Wayne!" Lucius's Fox deep timbre was unmistakable, and Bruce turned around to offer him a polite smile. "I'm happy to run into you, there's a few things – " He took one good look at his boss's shirt and grimaced. "Hell, Mr. Wayne, how'd that happen?"

The younger man turned around to glance at you. Poor, poor you, with eyes even wider, and a matching mouth. You blinked several times, looking from his shirt to his face, and from his face to his shirt.

"Oh, that's right. I almost forgot to introduce myself," he put a hand forward, offering you what you thought was the most dazzling smile ever. Geez, women must basically throw their panties at him.

"Bruce Wayne. Baby-shitting-placenta cult leader."

You blinked a few more times, wishing the earth swallowed you whole. You'd literally never done anything wrong in your life. Sure, you talked trash about Suzy Carpenter's sweater in 8th grade, but it was warranted – it did look like vomit – and you had stolen a yogurt from a coworker once, but surely that did not warrant running into Bruce Fucking Wayne of all people, spilling coffee all over his clothes, and accuse him of eating placenta. Maybe Suzy still held a grudge.

"Mr. Fox, how about I stop by your office later today? I'm quite busy this morning. Have something to do."

"Of course, Mr. Wayne. I'll be patiently waiting." Lucius gave him and you an acknowledging nod, before walking away.

You were still staring at Bruce, completely at a loss for words. What were you supposed to say? Was there anything at all you could say?

"I – Mr. Wayne, I – Well, I'm – I," you stuttered and stuttered, and Bruce could only chuckle, before shaking his head. He looked to his left and took a few steps, opening a door before him.

"After you."

Confusion took over your expressions. What was he up to? Where was he going?

"I promise not to kidnap you into a placenta cult," he chuckled, nodding towards the door. You looked at the name written in green letters on the glass. "Coffee House". "I believe I have a cup of coffee to make up for?"

He offered you a very subtle version of that dazzling smile of his, and you couldn't help but return in kind.

"I'm not going to apologize or kiss your ass or anything," you told him.

"That's fine," Bruce shrugged, "I didn't want you to."

You pondered your options.

You didn't know this man. But someone had called him Mr. Wayne, and now that you take a good look at him, he does look like the face gossip magazines and tabloids love to splatter on the cover. And he really did not look like he meant any harm.

And you really wanted a cup of coffee. "Alright, Mr. Placenta Cult Leader."

It did not take long for Bruce to fall in love with you, with your kindness, with your looks, with your beautiful personality. You always maintained that feisty attitude of yours, refusing to treat him or anyone in his world differently simply because you were now a part of it.

And Bruce loved it.

Loved how you couldn't care less what other socialite families thought of you, eating chocolate covered fruit after chocolate covered fruit at fundraisers, loved the way you latched onto him and "claimed" your property so to say whenever other women approached him and tried their luck (not that it would've worked, this man was whipped for you), telling other, more arrogant seniors off whenever they made judgements on yours, or Gotham forbid, Bruce.

But above all, he loved you,

And he made sure to show you just how much whenever possible. He wasn't the best with words, never had been, so he tried to show his devotions through actions. Breakfasts in bed, gentle caresses while you cuddled together on the couch, copies of your favourite books, soft kisses pressed against the hollow of your throat while he brought you to a climax with his fingers. Bruce would never stop showing you his love, for as long as he lived.

Alfred was very fond of you too.

The two of you had gotten along very well immediately after your first meeting, with Alfred telling you all sorts of embarrassing stories from Bruce's childhood. You laughed and replied in kind, and the two of you sort of teamed up to make his life a living hell (in the best way possible), teasing him to no end and cursing him with the worst jokes known to mankind.

Alfred too could see you were the one for his boss.

Saw it in the way Bruce looked at you, like everyone else in the world was gone and the only thing that mattered was the shine in your eyes. Saw it in the way he bent over to whisper sweet nothings into your ear that made you giggle out loud, just the way he saw Thomas Wayne do with his wife.

Saw it in the way Bruce paced holes into his study, pondering on what ring to get you. He bothered him to exhaustion that day, wondering about the colours you'd prefer, what size and shaped rock to get you, how, when, and where to propose.

"It has to be perfect, Alfred," he muttered, shaking his head and sighing incessantly. "I can't just pick any ring. It has to be meaningful. Her birthstone? No. No, absolutely not, that's lame. It's lame – it's dated. She wouldn't like it. Maybe she doesn't even like her birthstone. A diamond. A diamond! No. Out of the question. What if she doesn't like diamonds?"

"If I may give you a piece of advice, sir?" Alfred asked. However entertaining it was to see the mighty Bruce Wayne freak out over an engagement ring, this man was still his boy, and he couldn't bear to see him distressed. "If I recall, it was in your mother's will that her ring was to be stored and kept locked away in the possibility of her passing. I believe it is stored away in her old jewel box, as she was never buried with it. She wanted you to have it."

Bruce's eyes softened, as they often did at the mention of his parents.

"My mother's ring?" he asked to which Alfred nodded dutifully.

"It has been in your family for more than 6 generations now. Your mother wanted you to have it."

Some mixed feeling akin to grief and love passed through his eyes, and Bruce found himself staring at the floor. His mother's ring. A family heirloom, passed on from generation to generation. And now it was his. And would become yours. A million thoughts could've crossed through his mind. "Should I give something this important to her?" or "Is she the right person for this ring?" or maybe even "This is far too important. I need to think twice before making this decision".

But surprisingly, the only thought that came to him was "There is no one out there more deserving of this ring than her".

It was endearing, really, and Alfred Pennyworth was more than happy to see the boy he'd watched grow and loved as his own become his own man, and finally find the love he so much deserved.

When you got home on a warm May night and showed off your ring to him, smiling from ear to ear, eyes red and makeup slightly smudged from the tears you'd no doubt shed, he hugged you tightly and wished you all the best. He was sure the late Mr. and Mrs. Wayne would've loved you, and his eyes teared up at the thought.

Bruce caught sight of this and made his way towards the older man, worried that something might be wrong, the answer almost made him cry as well.

"It seemed like only yesterday I was patching your arm up after a rough fall, Master Wayne. And here you are today, carrying the legacy of your family, a man of your own, about to embark on this beautiful journey that's marriage. I am so very proud of the man you have become, and I'm sure your parents would too."

The two of them hugged warmly. Alfred was the only person besides you who got to see the more vulnerable side of Bruce – well, rather, you were the other person beside him. Having grown up with only his butler, Bruce saw him as a father figure. Sure, he'd never be able to replace his actual dad, but Bruce looked up and admired Alfred very much, considering him part of the family. No one seemed to care about him as much, and he was forever grateful.

That very night, you three toasted with champagne, sharing stories and anecdotes from Bruce's childhood, your relationship, and making plans for the future. And after Alfred had long retired for the night, Bruce took you in his arms, carried you off to his bedroom and made sure to remind you over and over again just how much he loved you.

After the engagement, Bruce told you about his double identity as Batman. You'd never suspected it – you were both responsible adults, each had your own job and errands to run. Not to mention that Bruce was the CEO of a whole company. To you, it was normal if he had to cancel one or two dates, or if you went a few days without seeing him. Sure, you missed him, and sometimes it made your heart ache, but you were a busy woman yourself, and always found yourself surrounded by things to do; hobbies, errands, work – you always had a lot going on, so Bruce's absence felt normal.

He was afraid you'd leave him, but in true you fashion, it just made you even more in love. The man you adored more than anything and wanted to spend the rest of your life with was the one keeping Gotham safe at night. You begged him there and then to show you all his cool gadgets, teach you how everything worked, and your mouth watered at the possibility of having sex in what you called "the Batcar".

"Batcar?" Bruce asked, cringing.

"No – that sounds terrible. Hmmm... Batengine?"

"It's called the Tumbler, and that's all. No Bat prefixes."

"No – no, it doesn't work like that. It needs a name. Oh. OH – Oh, holy fuck. Okay, get ready for this." You placed your hands in front of you, smiling. "You ready?"

"Just get on with it."

"I was just making sure you were ready. Okay listen. The Batmobile."

Bruce looked at you.

You looked at him.

Bruce looked at you.

You looked at him.

Bruce looked at you.

And then he made your wish come true, carrying you off towards the Batmobile.

Later, when you were curled up in his arms, you grinned, placing a cheeky kiss on his jaw.

"You're wearing the suit next time.”

Your engagement was happily lived.

You and Bruce tried to keep it a secret for as long as you could, wanting to enjoy some time together away from the prying eyes of Gotham, but as soon as one photographer caught you taking a spoon to your lips, and the beautiful diamond ring caught in the light, it was over.

“So much for privacy,” you muttered, collapsing on your couch, gripping the latest gossip magazine. The words “WAYNE HEIR TO FINALLY SETTLE! Billionaire playboy finally tamed!?” were plastered on the cover, as well as a big picture of you hiding your face with your left hand as Bruce brought you close to him. “I wonder if they’ll ever leave us alone.”

“Probably not. You’ll get used to it; it comes with the name.” Bruce kissed the top of your head, handing you a cup of coffee. You smiled and sat up straight, taking a sip from it and humming in delight.

“This is real good. Did Alfred make it?”

“Why is it so hard to believe that I would make a good cup of coffee?” Your fiancé asked, sitting beside you. One hand snaked around your waist and brought you closer, and the other softly flicked your nose.

“You burned the coffee beans last time you tried. I don’t even know how that’s possible, Bruce,” you sighed.

“I did my best.” Was his response.

“Maybe stick to being Bruce Wayne by day, and Batman by night. I love a good alliteration, but you were not meant to be a barista.”

Bruce chuckled and kissed you, tasting the sweet coffee off your lips. He hummed, gazing at you through his dark lashes.

“You’re right, this is good. Most likely wasn’t made by me.”

“It definitely wasn’t made by you.”

“You are such a hater,” Bruce sighed, playfully kissing your nose. “I’m never making you any more coffee from now on.”

Your eyes lit up and you smiled at him jokingly.

“Is that a promise?”

Bruce just shook his head and bent down to kiss you. You smiled against his lips, and he took the opportunity to give your waist a good squeeze, causing you to flinch.

“Stop that! I’m going to spill this all over the couch!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time – I recall someone spilling coffee all over me and somehow making it my fault,” Bruce joked, raising a quizzical brow. You smiled fondly at the memory. It was your favourite story to tell.

“You weren’t watching your step. It wasn’t my fault.”

“You bumped into me.”

“No, you bumped into me because you weren’t paying attention. And then you made me spill your coffee all over you.” You smiled and kissed him again. When you pulled away, you felt him chase after you, capturing your lips with his own once again.

Brushing his lips against yours, he murmured, “And I’m glad I did. I got to meet the love of my life that way.”

“You’re so corny, Bruce Wayne. I wonder what the public would think of you if they saw you like this.”

“I don’t care what the public thinks of me as long as you’re by my side.”

You smiled, and so did he. Truer words had never been spoken.

Now that you knew he was Batman, you worried more often.

What before was considered simply a “busy night for Mr. CEO” was now “night out in Gotham, fighting criminals and possibly getting injured”. You found yourself pacing circles around your bedroom, biting on your nails, and hoping that Bruce would come home soon.

You’d asked Alfred for some tips – how could he appear so relaxed knowing that the boy he treated as his own son was out there, doing what he did? Knowing that he put himself in the face of danger so often and sometimes with no regard for his own life?

“It’s hard, Miss,” he told you over a warm cup of tea. “But in the end, Master Wayne knows what he is doing. And now he has one more reason to get back home safely. Everything will be alright.”

And thankfully, he usually did.

You two had a sort of unspoken deal.

Bruce would always wake you up whenever he returned, even if just to let you know he was safe and home. Sometimes, you’d wake up, insisting on checking him for bruises and marks, and even going as far as patching them up.

“The kitchen has better lighting, c’mon,” you mumbled, voice still coated in exhaustion. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, yawning as you made your way towards the kitchen to deal with his bruises. It was routine, at this point. Bruce sat down, you opened your first-aid kit, you two had a snack and went back to bed. It was domestic, in a way. Not really something a regular couple would do, but you and Bruce had never really been regular.

“You’re lucky that one isn’t big,” you said, pointing towards the purple bruise forming on top of his right pectoral. You’d seen worse – sometimes he came home with bullet wounds, or deep gashes on his skin. Not that this was any more reassuring, but you were just glad that compared to other nights, he didn’t seem to be suffering too much. “It should heal in a few days, as long as you keep applying the cream.”

“What would I do without you?” he asked, with a soft smile. This is how you knew Bruce had truly returned home. Some nights he’d be far too tired to speak, choosing to kiss you and softly touch you to remind you of his love. Others, he would lock himself up in the Batcave, somehow convinced he wasn’t worthy of you. Of course you offered to talk to him, to help carry his burdens, but he never wanted to drag you into that side of his life, so most of the time, he would keep to himself.

Right now, though, he seemed to be doing fine. He told you patrol was rather easy, there were no major criminals out, and that nothing was wrong. His smiles and chuckles meant that Bruce, your Bruce was back.

“I don’t know,” you said, moving to open the fridge. As soon as you did, you turned away from it and gagged. “Shit – that’s disgusting,” you said, closing the door and shaking your head.

“What?” Bruce turned to you. “Is there something wrong?”

“I think there must be something rotten in here, it smells foul. Fuck, it smells so disgusting, I think I’m going to vomit,” you mumbled, moving away from the fridge as quickly as you could. Bruce got up right after and carefully opened the door. Nothing. Nothing seemed to smell rotten – nor it would make any sense if it did. Alfred was always on top of groceries, and never in his life he recalled a moment where something was rotten or went to waste.

“Are you sure?” he asked, turning to you. “I can’t smell anything bad.” Searching through the items, he opened and closed lids, smelling whatever was inside. Everything seemed to be intact.

“Are you serious? It smells disgusting – close that door!”

“Honey, I can’t find anything in here that smells bad. Maybe you’re just sensitive or something.” Bruce closed the door and walked towards you, wrapping you around his arms. “We should go to sleep. It’s late.”

You nodded into his chest and allowed him to carry you back to bed.

As you drifted off to sleep, you thought of how nice it would be if every single day was like this – patrol-wise. Bruce would come home with barely any scratches, you’d take care of him in about 10 minutes, and before you knew it, you’d be back in bed, hugging him tightly against you.

Unfortunately, the future held other plans.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t The Dark Knight himself,” a very familiar voice said.

Bruce turned around and faced the familiar mask of the Scarecrow, the man he knew to be Dr. Jonathan Crane. And he seemed to be in top shape – last time he’d seen the bastard, he was mumbling incoherently and out of his mind. How he’d gotten himself out of Arkham, Bruce had no idea, but he was sure to send him back there in no time.

“Crane.” Bruce said, ready to fight at any time. He knew Crane used a special toxin to induce fear in his enemies, and although he was immune to it, he had no idea what other people he’d convinced to do his dirty work. Had no idea if he should suspect any surprise attacks and did not want to take chances.

“You know, it’s funny that I find you here, especially after all the… studying I was doing just last night.” Crane paced around the alley, trying to get Bruce’s – the Batman’s – attention. “I was thinking, what is the big bad bat afraid of?” Placing a hand on his chin, he pretended to be deep in thought.

“Cut the crap Crane,” Bruce all but spat, “What do you want?”

Crane – the Scarecrow – however, did not seem in the mood to stop.

“At first, I couldn’t quite get it. After all, you’re just a man,” Crane put extra emphasis on his words. Bruce saw right through him. He wasn’t the first one who tried to make him feel helpless. “But then, it hit me.”

The Scarecrow kept walking around, weaving a narrative to get into Bruce’s head. The latter one stood his ground. He had half a mind to slam Crane against the nearest wall and just hand him over to the authorities, who’d already been called and were on their way, but part of him wanted to hear whatever the maniac had to say.

He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, but something inside him stirred. Crane looked carefree, relaxed. What had he done?

“Tell me, Bruce,” he said the name with a twisted kind of glee, something that made Bruce’s stomach drop unpleasantly. “Does it worry you when you leave your poor little wife all alone in your Manor? Knowing that anyone could get to her, knowing that she’s defenceless without you to protect her?”

What?

How did he know about him?

Most importantly, how did he know about you? Had he investigated you? Put the pieces together? Had Bruce accidentally left any sort of clue that led him to make the connection?

“Ah – right,” Crane said, removing his mask and offering Bruce a sadistic smile, “You thought no one would figure out your little secret, would you, Batman? How unfortunate.”

In about a second, Bruce was close to Crane, gripping him by the collar of his shirt.

“What have you done to her!?” He snapped, anger clouding his judgement.

“Ah, ah, ah! Now, don’t be crass, Bruce, we’re both respected men and can do this the hard way or the easy way. And I would hate for someone to find out your little secret. Wouldn’t you agree?” The man smiled mockingly, making Bruce’s blood boil.

“Who knows!? Who have you told?” he roared. All judgement and common sense had jumped off the window. Bruce remembered his training; remembered how he was told to keep his emotions at bay. Use his head, not his heart.

“This is where things get complicated now, Batman.” Crane spoke calmly. “I’m the only one who’s aware of your little secret.” Bruce almost sighed in relief. “But that can easily change. Help me get what I want, and I won’t tell a soul. Do anything to stop me, and I’ll let the whole world know who’s hiding under the mask. And believe me – every Arkham inmate would like to know.”

Bruce lowered the Scarecrow onto the ground, breathing heavily. Jonathan Crane knew his identity, knew who he was, where he lived, knew who his wife was. If he didn’t play this correctly, you’d be in great danger.

Reaching towards his pocket, Crane pulled out a small phone.

“In here, I have all the information about you, and the Missus. If you cross me, call for backup, or do anything that would sabotage my plan, I’m sending this file to every phone in Arkham City.”

Bruce weighed his options. He had to be careful. Get the phone out of Crane’s hands, lock him up –

A loud gunshot could be heard through the alley, and the man with the mask in his hand fell on the ground. It took a while for Bruce to understand what was going on, but Jim Gordon’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“I didn’t say you could shoot –“

“Sargeant, we’ve been after Crane for months now, I wasn’t going to let him go this easily!” A younger man in a GCPD office called out, moving towards Bruce and the now dead body lying on the floor.

Jonathan Crane was dead. The Scarecrow was dead. The only person who knew his secret was now dead. Instinctively, he bent down to pry the phone from the dead man’s hands. With a few clicks, he realised he wasn’t bluffing. A message with a large file entitled THE BAT was ready to be sent at any time. Bruce deleted the thing and destroyed the phone with his bare hands.

That had been close.

Too close.

The GCPD had killed Crane, and while normally Bruce would be against the killing policy, part of him kept thanking whatever inexperienced officer had decided to shoot him.

That was too close.

Crane had said no one else knew of his identity. What if he was bluffing? What if the phone was just a means to threaten him, meanwhile, everyone back in Arkham already knew?

“You okay?” Bruce turned to look at Jim Gordon’s worried expression. “It’s not often we see the Batman worried.”

“He knew who I am.”

Gordon took a step back – quite literally – eyes wide as he put his hands on his hips.

“Did he now?”

“He was going to tell everyone in Arkham City should I not help him along with his plan.”

Both men remained silent, staring at each other, before Gordon turned to look at his officers.

“I know you stick to your no-killing policy, but maybe this one was for the – “

The Batman was gone.

“ – Best.”

He’d spent the night at the cave, terrified to return to you.

What was he going to do?

Jonathan Crane had found out about him, so who’s to say someone else wouldn’t? Sure, the average criminal could not simply put together that he was Bruce Wayne, but there were always going to be people like Crane, who held big grudges and had a very high intellect.

It was simply a matter of time before someone else found out about you.

And Bruce couldn’t have that.

He ran Crane’s words over and over again in his head.

Does it worry you when you leave your poor little wife all alone in your Manor? Knowing that anyone could get to her, knowing that she’s defenceless without you to protect her?

He was right. While he was out at night, protecting the city, you were at home, with no one to protect you. He couldn’t bring you along – that was out of the question. And he couldn’t confine you to some secluded area. He knew you’d get upset that he was treating you like a baby, assuring him you could take care of yourself just fine.

You couldn’t.

Bruce had to protect you. He had to keep you safe, out of harm’s and criminal’s ways. Tonight, it was Crane, merely threatening to tell everyone about you. Tomorrow, it could be someone doing good on their promise.

He tried hard to think of what to do.

And the only idea that seemed like it could work, made his heart ache immensely.

He loved you. He loved you more than what he could possibly say. It tore him apart to be away from you, it broke him to simply think of hurting you.

And yet, it would keep you safe.

Bruce loved you.

So, so much.

He loved you so very much, that he was willing to do whatever he had to keep you safe from harm.

It would break his heart, yes. And yours too, surely. But after tonight, he couldn’t risk it. He would go the lengths of the earth to keep you safe and sound. He made his way towards the Manor and thought over his plan.

There was no way you’d believe him if he ever told you he did not love you. No, that wouldn’t work. You knew him far too well to know when he was lying.

He couldn’t say he was trying to protect you either. One thing he loved the most about you, was your stubbornness. If he told you all he was trying to do was keep you safe, you’d laugh in his face and promise you some measly criminals did not phase you. It warmed his heart, in a way, to know you’d stick with him through thick and thin, but it also made him worry.

What could he possibly do to keep you away from him?

And that’s when it hit him.

You had to see it.

It wasn’t an ideal solution – hell, he didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to even think about it. But if it would keep you safe? Bruce was willing to give it a try.

You’d gotten home earlier from work. Bruce knew this. You were supposed to get home around 6 and a half on Tuesdays, but it was currently 6 and you were already hanging your coat by the door.

“Good afternoon, Miss.” Alfred said with a polite nod, hurrying to your side. “You’re home earlier than expected.” A lie. Bruce had spoken to your coworkers earlier, and they’d told him you’d be off work sooner than expected. Alfred was in on the whole plan as well. It didn’t please him one bit, but he knew once Bruce got an idea, he would go through it until the very end.

“I told you to stop with the ‘Miss’, Alfred, my name is fine. It’s been fine for four years, and I’m sure it’ll be fine for the rest of our lives.” You smiled at him. You’d been trying to get Alfred to use your name for all the years you’d been dating Bruce, but to no avail.

“I’m sorry Miss,” he replied. “Old habits die hard. And please, allow me. It’s part of my job.”

“You’re family, Alfred. What would it take for you to call me by my name?”

“A handsome raise by Master Wayne.”

“I’ll see that he takes care of it right away.”

Alfred smiled as you turned to make your way towards the bedroom, and when you were no longer facing him, your expression turned to one of sadness. Was this really what it had come to? Was he about to go on with this?

He didn’t want to, but there was no way he was going against his boss’s rules.

Alfred sighed sadly, before following you.

“I’m afraid Master Wayne is busy.”

“Oh,” you hummed, “It’s okay. I’ll just wait for him to return.” You continued walking.

“No, Miss – he’s in his office. He’s told me not to disturb him, nor let anyone do it, since he’s working on some very important projects for Wayne Enterprises.”

Weird. Bruce never shut you out, even when he was busy. Sure, he might have things to do, but he would always keep his door open should you want to talk to him, or just kiss him.

“Well, that’s fine, I’ll just say hello to him and go take a shower.” You offered Alfred a smile and turned to instead walk towards Bruce’s office. “Did he tell you what work? He never mentioned anything about a project. Is it new?”

“I’m not sure Miss.” Alfred said, his heart beating slightly faster now that you approached the office’s door. He knew exactly what to expect once you opened the door, but it didn’t really make it easier. “He told me he was going to be busy all afternoon, told me not to go in, and closed the door.”

“Weird. Are you sure he’s alright?”

“I suppose so, Miss.”

You furrowed a brow. Odd. And it’s not like he told you anything at all – letting you know he’d be busy or working up until late.

“That’s alright, Alfred. I’ll go check up on him. He must be really tired,” You said, and approached the door. And now, you were even more confused than ever. Weird sounds were coming from inside the office. You could make out two voices – Bruce’s, of course (you’d know his voice from a mile away), and a female one.

What in the world could Bruce be possibly doing behind locked doors with a woman?

You stilled, straining your ears to better make out the noises coming from inside. And you flushed deep red once the realisation hit you. Grunting, groaning, moaning.

No.

It couldn’t be, now, could it? There was no way.

You turned around to face Alfred, whose face seemed to go white as a sheet of paper.

“Y-You said he locked himself inside and sent you away?” You asked.

“Yes, Miss.”

“O-Okay.” You mumbled, facing the door.

The voices got louder. The female voice got higher and shriller, and tears clouded your vision. You mustered up all the courage you could find in yourself, and burst the door open, gasping loudly at the scene before you.

A naked woman was lying on top of your fiancé’s desk, cheeks flushed and hands desperately clawing at his back – Bruce’s back. He was on top of her, hand hidden in the crook of her neck as he groaned, rutting faster against her.

You stilled in your place, completely paralyzed. There were no possible words to describe what you were feeling now. Anger? Heartbreak? Sadness?

The woman let out a loud moan and wrapped her legs tighter around him.

“You like that?” Bruce grunted, lifting his head to look at the woman, who replied with another broken moan and a tug of his hair.

“Bruce?” you said, heart breaking in a million pieces.

He looked up. Really looked up, staring into your eyes. Inside him, something broke as well. He was doing this for your own good. For your safety. He had to keep you away, had to give you the life he knew you couldn’t have as his wife. It was too dangerous.

“Fuck,” he muttered, quickly getting away from the woman on the desk. He stared at you, dumbfounded, scrambling around to quickly get his clothes.

“Hey – hey – what are you doing?” The woman asked, looking at him, before turning to you and her eyes widened. “Oh!”

You scoffed, looking in between the two, and stormed away, tears running down your cheeks.

“Honey!” Bruce called. He quickly managed to put on a pair of pants, and ran after you, heart pounding in his chest. You were mad. This was really happening. He was going to forever ruin the greatest thing that had ever happened to him, and all because of the Batman. He’d betrayed you and broken your heart.

But it was for your own good.

“I can’t believe this,” you said through gritted teeth, walking towards your bedroom and slamming the door shut behind you. Bruce was able to catch it right before it shut closed, and the expression in your face was sure to haunt him forever. Your lovely eyes, usually bright and lively, were dull and red. Your tear-streaked face was something Bruce had never wanted to see in his life – at least not when it pertained to something bad.

“Honey, please, it’s not what it looks like.” He pleaded, walking towards you.

You were quick to move aside.

“Don’t give me that not what it looks like bullshit! I saw you Bruce – God damn it, I saw you with another woman.” You said, trying to remain calm, but failing miserably. “How could you!?”

“Look, darling, if you could just let me explain –“

“Oh! Explain!” You hurried inside the closet, fetching one of your travel suitcases. There was no way you were staying inside this house – his house – any longer. You needed to get out. Needed fresh air, needed to get away from him. “What is there to explain? How you were balls deep inside some woman you’ve found somewhere? Oh, really nice, Bruce, lovely explanation!”

“You have to understand –“ Bruce explained, in between shallow breaths. “You weren’t supposed to find out, you were supposed to be at work.”

“Ah, yes. Of course I wasn’t supposed to find out.” You scoffed and busied yourself with throwing clothes inside your suitcase. “That much I know.”

“I’m sorry – “

“I’m sure you are.”

“I didn’t want it to come to this!” Bruce snapped, and you finally turned to him.

“Come to this?” Your voice was low, frail, frightened. Fuck. What was he doing? What was Bruce doing? Was this worth ruining your relationship over? Yes. Yes – of course it did. If it meant you’d be safe. Everything was worth it if you were safe.

You’d have your heart broken, yes. But in a few months, maybe years, you’d find someone else. A nice, normal man, with no secret identities and no secret life. You’d find a nice man and settle down. He would give you all his time, worship you like you deserved to be worshipped. Would take care of you and love you, and never put you in danger.

And you’d be happy. You’d be so happy; you’d have long forgotten about the asshole Bruce Wayne, who’d cheated on you and broke your heart.

“Yes, come to this.” He repeated. “You weren’t supposed to find out. I was supposed to have ended this long ago, and yet I let go for far too long.” Bruce tried to force some venom, some harshness into his words. He wasn’t used to talking like this to you, nor did he want to – but he had to try.

“What do you mean?” The clothes in your hands were long forgotten, and you just stared at him, like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I just – look, I hate to do this right now, and in these circumstances, but…”

“But?”

“We can’t be together anymore.”

Your eyes widened. What?

“I can’t keep lying to you. I don’t love you anymore.”

These words hit you like a truck.

Didn’t love you anymore?

“What?”

“That’s right.” Bruce sighed, trying to keep his composure. “This relationship is a mistake. You’re holding me back, and I just don’t love you anymore.” His voice was devoid of any emotion, while inside, he could feel everything slipping out of control. He loved you. How could he say such things? How were such words leaving his mouth?

“You – you don’t love me anymore?” You asked, eyes tearing up once more. Your breaths were coming in shallow; you couldn’t breathe, nor believe the stuff you were hearing.

“I don’t. I’ve been miserable – miserable – in this relationship,” He said your name, running a finger through his already unkempt hair. “I can’t keep pretending to be someone I’m not. Propose, settle down, get married – I can’t do it. I don’t see a future with you anymore. Please, you can’t tell me you haven’t felt the same!”

“No! I can’t!” You didn’t sound like yourself. You sounded sad, broken, out of breath, completely terrified. You thought your life with Bruce was going very well. You loved him, and he loved you. Yeah, okay, maybe he had some more work to take care of as of late, but that didn’t warrant a breakup. Did it? “We – we’ve been so happy, Bruce!”

“Fuck – I don’t love you anymore! This, this – this relationship is killing me here! I can’t keep on doing this, can’t wake up and pretend to be your Brucie, or a family man, or God forbid, someday your husband!” Bruce was fighting hard to keep his emotions away from this. Instead, he channelled all that energy into pretending to be angry with you. He put all the anger he felt towards the outside world and every criminal in Gotham, into this fake argument.

And by the look of your face, he was doing a good job.

“How… How long have you been doing this?” You whispered. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer. Weren’t sure if you wanted to know how long your husband had been betraying you, sleeping with some other woman. Or women. It made you nauseous just to think of that.

“I…”

“Just tell me, Bruce!”

Bruce sighed, looking away.

“Three months.”

A choked sob was ripped from your throat, and you grabbed the nearest thing – a shoebox – raising it above your head. There were a million thoughts racing through your head, a million emotions plaguing your mind. But before you could throw the damned box at his head, you ran into the nearest bathroom, puking your guts out.

The whole situation made you nauseous alright.

As soon as you’d puked whatever you had to, you got up, washing your mouth and your teeth. Then, you turned to Bruce. He was standing in the middle of your bedroom, looking at you with a mixture of sorrow, disgust, and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

You couldn’t stare at him any longer.

“I’d appreciate it if you left the Manor until the end of the day,” he said, looking at the ground. “I would like the master bedroom to be clean of your things.”

How could he speak like this? How could he say all of this after everything you two shared? Every word, every kiss, every touch? Had it not meant anything to him? Clearly not, by the way he was behaving.

You wiped your tears (unsuccessfully, since they just kept on rolling down your cheeks), and walked towards your closet, proceeding to stuff your clothes inside the suitcase. Just as you were about to shut your first suitcase, Bruce interrupted you.

“I’ll have someone else take to you the rest of your things. Just take that right now.”

You stood up, turning to him. First, he cheated on you, then he admitted to not loving you, then he broke up with you, and now he was kicking you out at full force.

You sneered.

“Where the hell am I supposed to stay, then? I live here.”

“Lived. Not live. You don’t live here anymore. Just get a hotel room somewhere, I’ll pay for it. But you have to go.”

“Why? So you can go back to fucking your new girlfriend?”

“Precisely.” The bite in his words shocked you.

There were no words. No words beside three little things you’d never thought you’d utter at the man standing before you.

“I hate you. I hate you, Bruce Wayne.” You said, tears cascading down your cheeks and marring your so lovely face. “Everyone warned me about you, but I didn’t listen. I was too in love with you to care about what anyone said.”

Bruce still refused to meet your gaze. He was sure that if he did, he’d break down too. And he was close, too close to let all of this go to waste.

“Should’ve listened to them.” You whispered.

And walked out, suitcase in hand.

“Alfred, make sure you take her – “

“I’ll see to it myself, thanks. I don’t need your help.”

With these words, you were out the door, and out of Bruce’s life.

As soon as you were no longer in vision, Bruce broke down.

He sat on his bed, hiding his face in his hands. You were truly gone. Forever. He’d done what he had to, and now you were gone. It was for the best, yeah, but that’s not to say it didn’t hurt.

Alfred quietly walked into the room. The sight of his boss leaning forward, looking absolutely miserable was a low blow. Finally, he’d found a source of happiness, of peace, of solace. Finally, he’d get to see his boy grow up, start his own family.

But all of that was over now.

He wouldn’t be there to walk you down the aisle and congratulate Bruce on his wedding day. He wouldn’t be there to see him drop to his knees when he found out you were carrying his child. He wouldn’t get to teach Bruce all the little hacks he learned from caring for him as a baby, wouldn’t get to tell your child the charming love story his parents had.

Master Wayne was miserable before you.

He was sure he’d get worse now.

“Master Wayne, I’ve sent Miss Roberts on her way.” He said quietly, standing on the doorway.

“Did you pay her?”

“Yes.”

“Enough?”

“She won’t tell a soul.”

The two men remained in silent for a while. Alfred did not know what to say. He understood where Bruce was coming from. He’d tried to talk some sense into his young master’s head, but to no avail – Bruce was going through with this madness and that was it. He’d tried telling him it wouldn’t matter; you loved him and would remain by his side forever, but he wouldn’t hear it.

In his head, this was the only solution.

“She’s going to be fine,” Bruce mumbled, dropping his hands, and looking at the ground.

“You’ve broken her heart, sir.” Alfred replied.

“She’ll be fine, Alfred,” Bruce retorted harshly. “She’ll go on with her life, forget about me, and she will be safe and that’s why we’re doing this – so she’s safe!”

The older man closed his mouth. There was nothing else he could do or say. It was done, and there was no turning back.

“Will you be fine, Master Wayne?” he asked at last.

Bruce did not answer right away. He shook his head, and Alfred swore he could make out the shape of his shoulders shaking ever so slightly – was he crying?

After a few moments, Bruce finally managed to calm himself. He took a deep breath, quickly wiped away any tears that might’ve escaped, and nodded, still avoiding his butler’s gaze.

“I will be. All that matters is that she’s safe. I’ll learn to be fine.”

“Is there anything you wish, sir?”

“No, you’re dismissed.”

And so, Alfred walked away, leaving Bruce to think the last few minutes over.

He’d lost you, sure.

But he would keep an eye on you from afar. Protect you from a distance. Make sure you were doing alright and that no harm had come to you. He’d be a silent protector.

And although he was hurting, he would bottle up his emotions.

Nothing else mattered, as long as you were safe.

But keeping tabs on you had proved to be quite harder than what Bruce expected.

You’d gone completely off the map, off-grid. You’d forsaken social media and most electronics and were doing a fantastic job of keeping away from his prying eyes. He knew for a fact you’d left Gotham, but to where, he did not know exactly. His sources told him you’d probably changed your identity, not wanting to be seen as Bruce Wayne’s ex-girlfriend anymore, wanting a life of your own.

At first, Bruce was terrified.

If you changed your identity and moved away, how was he supposed to protect you? This whole thing was meant to keep you safe – how was he supposed to live without knowing if all of his and your suffering had been in vain?

“Master Wayne, I understand your concern for the Miss’s well-being.” Alfred had told him one night as Bruce was drowning his sorrows in some very-expensive liquor. “But sometimes, we must respect the choices people make for their own safety.”

“What if something happens to her, Alfred?” Bruce asked, voice raspy from exhaustion and the drink. “What if she’s in danger and I can’t reach her? What if this whole thing was for nothing?”

“Sir, part of caring for someone is respecting their decisions. Dr. Jonathan Crane is long gone, and you yourself told me the information he had died with him. There is no one after you or the ones you love anymore. And most important, there is no one after her. If she’s changed her name, it only means she’ll be safer.”

Bruce sighed. Alfred was right to some extent – as he usually was. Crane was dead, and he hadn’t told anyone about you. Changing your name and your identity would probably keep you even safer.

“I loved her, Alfred. I still do.”

“I know, Master Wayne. I did too.” Alfred sighed, placing a comforting hand on the young man’s shoulder. “But you did what had to be done, now, didn’t you? You said it yourself. She is safe, and that’s all that matters.”

Bruce tried to follow that mentality.

For months, he tried to forget you.

Unfortunately, not only had you wormed your way into his heart, you’d done the same thing to his mind. He would wake up in the middle of the night sometimes, swearing he could feel your lingering touch, hear your heavenly voice.

During meetings, all he could think of was how you’d usually send him funny texts and memes you found on your lunch breaks. He no longer got your calls, telling him all about the gossip you’d heard at your workplace, and how much you missed him.

The manor felt empty without your touch, your laughter, your presence. Just the mere existence of your toothbrush was enough to calm him down, to remind him you were there, and real, and his.

But he was left with nothing.

You’d gone, and with you, taken his heart.

And yet, despite all the pain, all the heartbreak, life went on.

Days passed; seasons changed.

The daily cycle continued, interrupted.

The sun rose and the sun set, a small reminder that life waited for no one. Alfred told him many times that he couldn’t dwell on the past, and while he tried to, it was hard.

Winter became spring, spring became summer.

And Bruce Wayne’s heart remained unmended.

He tried to move on – really, he did. But he wasn’t quite sure he’d achieved it. He didn’t think of you as much anymore, but he also didn’t think of much else. It was as if he was numb to the outside world, going about his daily routine as Bruce Wayne and his nightly duties as Batman automatically.

It was as if he was on autopilot. Charity galas were boring without you to make fun of everyone, fundraisers sucked if you couldn’t talk to whoever was interesting and get him to have a good time.

Life went on, but it was as if his had paused.

Alfred did his best to keep him in check. Did not allow him to go without any meals, made sure he attended whatever events he had to, and patched him up after rough patrols. He too missed your presence but knew better not to mention it to his boss. All he wanted was for the young master to go back to the person he once was.

One day, he was on his way to Wayne Enterprises. It was late in the morning, but as the CEO of the company, he could afford to be late once or twice. Not only that, but it was also only natural for Bruce Wayne to be fashionably late – even if it was to his own job.

The car suddenly came to a halt. Something underneath Bruce seemed to deflate, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Alfred?” he asked, closing his newspaper.

“I’m sorry sir, there seems to be something wrong with the tires. Perhaps you could go out and check?” The butler replied with a cheeky grin.

“Don’t I pay you enough for that?”

“Not nearly, sir.”

“How unfortunate. Well, I’m quite comfortable here, so why don’t you check it yourself?”

Alfred nodded with a small smile and exited the car.

After around 5 minutes, he looked inside the limo and sighed.

“I’m sorry sir, but we have a flat tire. But we also don’t have a spare one in the trunk, so I’ll have to call someone.”

“Really?”

“Really, sir. I’m sorry.”

Bruce shook his head, waving his newspaper dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just go by foot.”

“Are you sure, sir? It’s still a few blocks away. Perhaps we should wait until someone comes to fix it. And what if something happens to you?”

Bruce gave his butler a pointed look, raising an eyebrow, to which the older man just sighed.

“Alright, fine, you stubborn, stubborn man.”

Bruce chuckled and exited the limo, quickly making his way down the street.

It would be good, clear his head of all the torment. Walking gave him peace, made his mind feel at ease. It was as if a burden as lifted off his shoulders, even if momentarily.

Unfortunately, this respite did not last long.

He was busy looking around himself – eyes trailing the balconies of older Gotham buildings, taking in every person, every door, every window, every life that lives inside each apartment – to notice the figures before him.

But once he was content with the things he’d seen (and decided to organise some sort of charity event, since his city needed him, especially the older streets, with decaying buildings and lives he were sure must be hanging by a thread), he looked up.

And what he saw stole his breath away.

You were standing a few meters away from him, pointing at a shopwindow that had caught your eye. A friend stood by your side; arm linked with yours. He couldn’t care less about her, eyes focused on you, on the big summer hat resting on top of your head and providing shade to your face, on the beautiful smile you wore, on the way your lips moved as you spoke animatedly, on the lovely white dress you adorned.

But most importantly, his eyes were focused on the pretty swell of your belly, and on how one of your hands cupped it lovingly, and the other trailed circles on top of it. He eyed the swell of your breasts that had grown larger, the way your entire being seemed to glow. Not from the sun, just entirely from you.

Bruce stopped dead in his tracks.

You were back. Back in Gotham, back in his life, back to him.

Don’t be an idiot – surely, she’s not back for you.

And how beautiful you looked, hand protectively over your belly. How dazzling, how breathtaking, how shining.

Without even realising it, Bruce stepped forward, eyes glued on your figure. You didn’t seem to notice him, still paying attention to the store in front of you. He could make out the small chatter you were having with your friend – and how much he’d missed the sound of your voice, the lovely musicality of your laughter – it made him feel lighter, fuller, happier.

“I like the blue one,” you said, turning to your friend, “And it’s rather big, so I’m sure he’ll grow into it.”

Your friend seemed to agree with you, “It’ll last for a few months, yeah. But the yellow one is pretty too, don’t you think?”

“Please. A Batman onesie? The last thing I want is my son to wear one of those. He won’t even know who he is, anyway, it’s not like I’m raising him here.” You scoffed.

The girl you were with chuckled, and only then did she notice Bruce, standing far too close.

“Um,” she poked your arm, and you turned to him.

It was as if the whole world faded away.

Your whole story played on your head. Your first meeting, spilling coffee all over his shirt, having a coffee bought by him, the countless dates you went on, dating, moving in together, living what you thought were your happiest years ever, getting proposed to, and eventually finding your husband fucking someone else.

You quickly dropped your gaze to your stomach before looking at him once again and taking a step back. It was stronger than you, an instinct to get away from this man as soon as possible.

"Hey," the words were tumbling out of Bruce's mouth before he could control himself.

When you didn't reply, he took another step forward, making you step back again.

"I have nothing to say to you," you mumbled, looking at your friend. You whispered a quick "let's go” to her and turned on your back to leave. Before you could do it, the man called out your name. You could hear the desperation in his voice, the worry, the heartbreak, the grief.

Tch, you thought, what is there for him to grieve? You're the one who lost your relationship, your home, the chance for your child to meet his father.

"Please, listen to me," he said, and you saw in his face such vulnerability it scared you. You didn't remember the last time you'd seen Bruce like this, face looking as if he was holding on by a threat.

You were that thread, Bruce thought to himself.

"Did you not hear her?" Your friend came to your rescue, hand protectively over your shoulders. "She doesn't want to talk to you. Now leave it."

Bruce wondered if she knew him. If she knew what he'd done. Had you told anyone? Had you kept it a secret? Might've been hard to do so – after all, tabloids had loved to exploit his breakup, plastering it all over every cover of ever magazine in Gotham. He'd paid them off to spare you from the spotlight and public eye, but it was too late. People had already begun talking; and what they were saying wasn't polite at all.

"You need to listen to me," he said softly, "You need to listen to what I have to say."

What was he doing? What was he saying? He shouldn't even be talking to you, should be keeping his distance like he'd been doing the past few months. His head told him to stay away – to turn around, go back to the pain and the sulking and the sleepless nights between empty sheets. But his heart was reaching towards you, hoping so desperately that you'd reach out too and save him from the torment he'd been living.

He knew he had no right doing this. He'd hurt you terribly – but it'd been for a good reason, no? He'd kept you safe long enough, hadn't he?

Was it selfish of him to want you back?

Because he did – desperately so. He missed your warmth and your touch. He missed your smiles in the morning and your giggles in the evening. He missed the way you scrunched your nose whenever you took a sip out of his coffee – black with one sugar. He missed the way you walked around with nothing but his shirts on when Alfred was out, teasing him to no end and relishing in the way Bruce's breath hitched when his eyes landed upon you.

But most of all, he missed the way you always comforted him and promised everything would be alright. He missed your tender touch and your warm embrace. Missed your love, and the effect it had on him.

He needed you back.

That much was certain, and he had no doubts about it.

He couldn't bear to be without you any longer. He would keep you safe – God damn it, he would, even if it was the last thing he ever did, but he couldn't be without you anymore. He couldn't live his days inside a Manor that seemed so dull without your shine, eat at a table that seemed so quiet without your chatter, and sleep in a bed that seemed so cold without your body next to his.

Your voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"There's nothing you could say to me that I would possibly want to listen," you said. But your heart was hammering in your chest, and you were sure if he were to strain his ears just a bit, he'd listen to how fast it was racing. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have places to be."

Bruce's heart fell. He was about to lose you again. He couldn't. His hand dropped to yours, and he held it tightly in between his palms.

"Please," he all but begged, "Just listen to what I have to say. And if you don't care about it, if you don't like what you hear, if you want to go, I'll let you."

"I don't care. Happy? Now let me go."

"Please."

The way he said it made your heart churn. His face was the epitome of heart break, eyes sagged, with deep dark bags under them. You knew Bruce hardly got any sleep as Batman, but this seemed too much. And there was something about the way he looked at you, as if you were some sort of mirage that could disappear within seconds.

You couldn't quite tell what it was. Perhaps it was your hormones feeling nostalgic. Perhaps it was curiosity, making you wonder what the hell he had to say to you that's so important.

Your brain yelled at you though, telling you to stay away from him. This man had ruined your life, used you and thrown you aside. You had no use for him. You deserved better.

And yet, your heart still yearned for him. You couldn't lie – as soon as you laid your eyes on him, it did a little flip, at it usually did.

As it used to do. Not anymore. You're not his anymore.

"Fine," you mumbled, shaking your head. "But not now. I'm busy."

"Yes, yes, of course," he said, nodding desperately. "When can you meet me? Tomorrow? Is tomorrow okay? Is it too soon?"

It's not soon enough, you thought. You really did not have anything else to do today but thought it better not to tell him. You couldn't give him all you wanted at once – you were afraid your poor heart couldn't take it.

Still, something inside you couldn't hide how much your heart still wanted him.

"Tomorrow is fine."

"Great, great. 4 in the afternoon? I could have Alfred pour us something? Maybe a few biscuits?"

It was endearing, how desperate he seemed to get you to sit with him. It was cute.

Stop it. He's not "cute", he ruined your life and tossed you aside. You just want closure. That's it – closure. That's all you want from him.

"Fine. Can I go now?" You asked, before shaking your head and rephrasing. "I'll be going now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait – Should I send for a driver?"

"Unless the Manor has disappeared and teleported somewhere else, I think I can manage." Saying this, you walked away, leaving Bruce at a loss for words, mouth gaping like a fish. There you were, in front of him, and just as quickly as he'd spotted you, you were gone. You were every bit as beautiful as he remembered you. He thought of your pregnant belly, and a shiver ran down your spine.

Whose baby was that? Was it his? Were you carrying another man's child? And why were you back in Gotham? Whatever reason it was, he silently thanked the heavens. It'd brought you back to him, and that's all that mattered. With a newfound sense of determination, Bruce ran back to his limo, where Alfred was still waiting for someone to fix his tire.

"Call the company," he exclaimed, out of breath and panting as he reached the older man. "Cancel all my meetings. Today's and tomorrow's."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. What the hell did his boss get into this time?

"May I ask why, sir?"

Bruce beamed.

"We have company."

Alfred had mixed emotions about you coming to visit.

On one hand, he was more than glad to see you. He missed you terribly, his book club pal, his gossiper, his nearly adoptive daughter. He looked forward to hugging you again, speaking to you, asking you how you were doing and learning how these past few months had been going for you.

On the other hand, he was positively mortified. He knew Bruce hadn't dealt very well with your absence, and he was afraid of what his young master might do now that you were here and willing to listen to him. And what would he say anyway? He knew Bruce was suffering and had never stopped loving you, but he didn't expect for him to actually try and win you back as soon as he laid eyes on you.

Sighing, he adjusted the tray on top of the kitchen counter, smiling when he heard the doorbell. Walking towards the entrance, he fixed his tie – he too wanted to look presentable for his favourite young lady – and opened it. Your sight was enough for his smile to grow wider. He took you all in, and his eyes got larger as he spotted the large bump on your stomach.

"Hey Alfred," you said, sporting a soft smile and another summer dress – this one, light green.

"Hello Miss." He replied, tears in his eyes. It made him emotional, you with your hands slowly supporting your growing stomach. He'd wanted to see this sight for so long, and while it was endearing, and you looked radiant, it was also heartbreaking that he hadn't been there to see most of it, and that neither had Bruce.

The very same question passed through his head: Whose baby were you carrying?

"You've got room for a plus one?" You asked, eyes dropping to your stomach.

"I think we can manage."

You walked inside, and hugged Alfred tightly close to you. You too saw him as family, and it had broken your heart to cut contact with him. At first, you thought about keeping his phone number and calling him occasionally; but after learning how everyone wanted to get their eyes on you, you decided that perhaps it was for the best if you ceased contact completely.

"I missed you so much, Miss. The Manor is not the same without you," he whispered, rubbing your back comfortingly.

"I missed you too, Alfred," you replied, tears forming in your eyes aswell. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I'm so sorry, I – "

"It's alright, Miss." He pulled away, looking into your eyes with that kind, warm, parental gaze of his, "I understand. I'm just glad I got to see you again."

With this, he led you towards the living room, where Bruce was already, pacing back and forth. It almost made you chuckle – big bad Bat by night, reckless playboy by day Bruce Wayne was pacing circles inside his living room, visibly worried sick.

"Master Wayne," Alfred said, signalling your arrival.

Bruce looked up and you'd think you had just offered him the cure to eternal life or something by the way his gaze held yours.

"Hey," he said, walking towards you, but thinking better of it and standing a few steps away from you. He held forward his hand, hoping that you'd somehow shake it. You did not, and he dropped it.

"Would you like something to drink? Alfred prepared coffee."

"I don't drink coffee. It makes me nauseous." You softly placed your hands on your stomach, and Bruce got the hint immediately,

"Yes – yes, of course. I'm sorry." He mumbled, running a hand through his hair. By the look of it, tousled and unkempt, you figured he'd been doing that quite a lot for at least the past half hour. "Is there anything else you'd like, though? A cup of water, perhaps some tea?"

"Tea would be fine, thank you." You turned to look at Alfred when you said these words, although Bruce could tell immediately they weren't for him by the way your voice was coated in sugar – something he knew he hadn't earned just yet. "You still know my favourite?"

"Of course, Miss," Alfred nodded politely with a smile, "I'll get it for you right away," and made his way towards the kitchen.

You and Bruce remained in silence for a while before he seemingly broke out of a trance.

"Please, do sit down."

You did so, carefully tucking a pillow behind your back, you stretched your legs ever so slightly and sighed in relief, hands resting on top of your stomach. "There, there", you mumbled, "All comfy, aren't we?"

Bruce eyed you and your stomach. There were so many things he wanted to ask you, and yet he did not know where to begin. Should he address the elephant in the room? Should he let you speak about it? What if you did not want to talk about it? Maybe the child wasn't even his – you could've moved on and started a life without him. He has no right to ask.

"You're looking..." he began. You waited for a continuation, and it surely came, seconds after. "Beautiful. Radiant."

"Thank you," was your polite response. You looked around the room – nothing had changed. Still the same paintings up on the walls, still the same portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne holding a very tiny and very happy Bruce, still the same scent of lavender and books.

Still home.

"How have you been?" he asked, sitting down on the couch positioned next to yours, and trying his best to relax.

"How have I been?" you repeated. He wanted to catch up? Really? As if everything you had together in the past had meant nothing?

"Yes," he nodded, gesturing towards yourself. "How have you been these past few months?"

You scoffed. Fine. If he wanted to do this, then he would see it through until the very end.

"Oh, I'm doing just fine, Bruce." You said, venom evident in your words, dripping off them. "In fact, these last few months have been the jolliest of my life. The man I was in a relationship with, who's also the man who had proposed to me broke up because he said he did not love me anymore, and was fucking some random woman when I walked in on him, then he kicked me out of our home, had to go live in a hotel room for a few weeks before I finally got a place far, far away from his prying eyes, cutting edge technology and vigilante alter ego, then I have to deal with gossip magazines wanting to photograph my face and get some sort of statement from me, going as far as to trying to break into my house just to find out what truly happened."

Bruce winced at the harshness of your words. You'd had some terrible couple of months, clearly, and he didn't know what to say.

"But hey! How have you been, Bruce? How's life?" You were being sarcastic – that much was evident, and although he did deserve every ounce of cruelty you gave him, it also hurt.

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "You can't imagine just how sorry I am... And how much I regret what happened."

"Ah," you sneered, twisting your face in disgust, "Is this why you invited me here? Because you regret hooking up with whoever that was back then? Got into a mess you couldn't undo? Miss me, oh so much, and need me back?"

Each word was like a dagger being plunged into Bruce's heart. Had heartbreak turned you so bitter?

No, not bitter. You were right, after all.

"I'm sorry," he said your name softly, sighing deeply. "I need to tell you something."

"And I'm sure I can't wait to hear whatever it is." You scoffed. Alfred quickly entered the living room, placing a tray with two mugs on the coffee table in front of you. He carefully handed you one of them, before walking away. Bruce's nose scrunched. Ouch.

"Thank you," you smiled at the butler, took a sip out of the mug, and sighed contentedly. "This man makes the best tea I've ever drank."

"He really does. But as I was saying, I need to tell you something."

"Bruce, I don't want to hear sob stories. I didn't come here to hear you whine and moan and complain about your life. I'm sure you suffered a lot, but I am not really interested." There you went again, sarcasm coming naturally to you and your words.

"I just need to tell you what really happened."

Another sneer.

"I saw what really happened Bruce. Stop it with the bullshit."

"Just – " Bruce took another deep breath. "Please. Just listen to me without any interruptions, please. If you want to scream at me and yell and slap me and punch me after, then that's okay."

"Tempting."

"But please, just let me speak."

"Okay."

Bruce looked at you in surprise. Okay? Just like that? So willingly?

"That's why I came here, isn't it? Please get it over with."

The man before you nodded. He wasn't going to sugarcoat things. It was time for you to know the truth.

"Back when we were engaged," he began, "There was this one night I went on patrol. And everything was going fine, until I ran into Crane."

You furrowed your brows. "Crane?" Then, you remembered what he'd said about interrupting, and muttered a quick "Sorry, go on."

"I ran into Crane."

It was almost as if Bruce could see the whole thing playing before him. The darkness of the night, the faint smell of the Scarecrow's fear toxin, the one he was immune to. It was all so clear in his mind – after all, that night was the beginning of the end.

"He started talking to me. Trying to get into my head, as he usually did. But that time was different. He... He started talking about me, my own personal life, my identity. And then he mentioned you." His gaze fell on you, and you were met with hopelessness and despair. It was heart-wrenching.

"He knew you. Knew you, he knew who you were, knew who I am. He threatened to tell Arkham City residents our identities. He threatened to hurt you if I didn't help him."

Your face was pale with worry.

"And what did you do? You didn't help him, did you? It's Crane!"

"The GCPD intervened and killed him on the spot. Some rookie officer convinced it was the best thing to do. Crane was holding a phone in his hand when he died. It contained files, files about all those close to me. I got to delete everything just before he sent it."

You listened attentively. No one had ever gotten as close to unmask Bruce. Well, no one until Crane. You had heard of his death, but only thought it was a good thing that such a criminal was out of the streets.

"And I..." Bruce hesitated. This was the hard part, telling you what he'd done, the hard choice he'd made. "I thought... It was unthinkable to lose you. I just couldn't. Crane had gotten too close. I was terrified darli – " he quickly corrected himself, switching to your name. "I couldn't lose you... I barely slept that night, thinking of what could've happened to you."

In your face, Bruce could see some recognition. Were you putting the pieces together? Did you know?

"I thought..." he continued, "I thought I had to keep you safe. And in my mind, you'd never be safe if you were with me. As long as you were associated with Bruce Wayne, you'd be in constant danger."

"No..." you mumbled, shaking your head,

"And you're so stubborn..." Bruce's eyes shed with unshed tears, voice carrying an amount of emotion you weren't familiar with. "You'd never listen to me. You'd stick by my side and argue that you loved me and didn't care about the danger..."

"You didn't..." you covered your mouth.

"So, the only plausible explanation was driving you away."

The tension shifted immediately in the room. Bruce couldn't tell what was going through your head, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"I paid someone to put on that little show with me, that day. I knew you were coming home early. It pained me so much to do it, I swear..."

"I can't believe this..." you stood up, attempting to do it quickly but failing because of your stomach. "I can't believe you would do that."

Bruce remained sitting, not wanting to distress you any further.

"Please, you have to understand – everything I did was for your protection."

"So you cheated on me to drive me away!?"

"We were going to get married! If you shared my name, you'd share your enemies, and I promised I would never drag you into my other life. I promised to keep you safe."

"Yeah!" You threw your arms up in the air in frustration. "So! You could've taught me martial arts! Gifted me a taser! Taught me how to throw a punch, give me a gun or something! Instead, you thought the brightest idea was to dump me?"

"It hurt like hell; it really did. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat – I was in hell without you." Bruce was getting desperate. This is not how he wanted things to go, not how he'd pictured it going. You were freaking out, understandably so, but some part of him was hoping you would understand. Would you ever?

"Why didn't you just talk to me?" You were getting angry now. This whole conversation was pissing you off.So Bruce had broken your heart because he wanted to protect you!? "We're two responsible adults, Bruce! You could've told me what happened."

"I couldn't. You would've never agreed to stay away from me."

"Exactly! Because I love you! I'd have stuck with you through thick and thin!"

Bruce was so engaged in the argument; he missed your slip. Love, not loved. Present tense.

"And that was precisely what I didn't want to happen! I didn't want to come home one night and found you dead on the ground or kidnapped! I was doing it all for you!"

"By breaking my heart."

"It had to be done."

"It didn't.

"I was thinking of you."

"How old are we, Bruce!? 16? 17? Why didn't you just talk to me?"

Alfred had tried to exit the perimeter. He didn't want to be anywhere near you two, but decided against that decision. Someone had to be able to step in and protect the young master. He was positive that given the chance, you'd throw something at him, and that was sure to leave a mark. He didn't doubt your abilities.

"I'm so sorry," Bruce pleaded, "But once again, please understand. I was just doing what i thought was best."

"You left me!"

"I was protecting you!"

"You left me, Bruce!" You yelled, unable to fight back your tears. Once again, you didn't know what got you so agitated. Maybe your hormones, maybe the lingering feelings you deep down still had for the man sitting down before you. "I loved you; I needed you by my side, and you left me! Because you thought someone was coming after me? You said it yourself – Crane did not send the files to anyone. We were safe. We were fine. And you went and destroyed everything we had because of some fear you had?"

It was Bruce's turn to stand up, defensively placing his hands in front of his chest.

"I couldn't lose you. Please, please, you have to forgive me. I was such an idiot, I shouldn't have done it, I know. I miss you – I miss you so much, I have for the past few months, I can't live without you."

"I couldn't live without you either and had to make do! I still have to!"

"There was an uncomfortable silence as the last few words hung in the air. It was then that Bruce decided to finally ask the question he'd been meaning to ever since he first saw you on the street.

"Is the child mine?"

You widened your eyes, looking away from him. Your hands instinctively went to your stomach.

"You have no right to ask that."

"Please. Just... Is it mine?"

You thought it over. There was no use in hiding it. The child would most likely grow up to look like him, bear his eyes and smile, scrunch his nose in the way his father did when confused. And for all it was worth, Bruce deserved to know. He wasn't a bad person, and you knew he'd be a good father.

"Yes," you mumbled, softly.

Bruce didn't hesitate to ask his next question.

"When did you find out?"

"A few days later. I was all by myself, and so scared, Bruce..." Sitting down, you looked at the floor, finding a sudden interest in examining your shoes. "It was the hardest thing I've ever done... Bearing this child all by myself, without you... As soon as my stomach started showing, I had to get out of here. Tabloids were going crazy, and I didn't want you finding out. I just wanted a normal life for him."

"Him?"

"Yeah. I know for sure, it's a little boy. I love him so much already..."

Bruce sighed, raking a hand through his hair. He knew he'd screwed things up the first morning he woke up without you by his side, but this was simply too much.

"I love you." The determination with which he said it took you by surprise. "I always have. I never stopped. I'm sorry for what I did. Fuck, I'm an idiot. I knew I would put you through hell, and I still did it because it would be the best for you. I'm so sorry."

These words did not fall on deaf ears. You were listening, hung up on every word. Bruce was right there, right in front of you, apologizing and confessing he still loved you. And didn't you love him back? Hadn't you spent countless nights crying over his absence, wishing it were his fingers wiping away the tears that refused to stop, wishing that he was there next to you the moment you realised you were pregnant, wishing he would hug you tightly, kiss your forehead and assure you everything would be fine? That it had all been a very bad nightmare and you were back at home with his body wrapped around yours?

"I... I don't know how I should feel," you said. Which was partially true. Some part of you did still love him, but he'd put you through too much heartache. You weren't about to just forgive him and kiss all his worries away and pretend nothing had ever happened. "You really hurt me, Bruce... I don't know if I can go through that again. What if someone else gets a hold of my information? Of your identity? Are you going to push me away again? Push our son away?"

Bruce looked at you, eyebrows furrowed, and in one quick motion, was down on one knee, hands desperately wanting to rest on top of yours. "I promise," his voice was soft, and it reminded you of your sweet Bruce, of the man you'd fallen in love with and were ready to love forever, "It won't happen again. I'll do better next time. Hell, there won't even be a next time. I promise. I can't live without you."

"Bruce, I... It's not as simple as that..."

"You don't love me anymore?"

"That's not what I said."

"So you do?" A hint of a smile.

"Gosh, Bruce, stop it! What you did was terrible – it destroyed me. Those were the worst months of my life, you have no idea how it felt to be me, alone and pregnant and scared! You can't just waltz back into my life and tell me you love me and are sorry. I don't trust you anymore. It's just not that simple."

"I understand."

Bruce sighed and stood up.

"I just wanted to tell you the truth, anyway. You deserve it. I'm really sorry for what I did."

Once again, you're basked in silence. This time, it was you who broke it, with a question of your own, one that had plagued you ever since he told you everything was staged.

"Did you sleep with her?" Your voice was meek, fragile. Did you want to know the truth?

"No." Bruce answered with determination. "We didn't have sex. I wasn't really naked."

Your eyes widened.

"I guess you were too mad to notice." He smiled sadly.

You looked away at the ground.

Somehow, it did make you a little more at ease that he hadn't really had sex with that woman. It didn't erase all of your pain but gave you some slight respite.

"Have you been with anyone, after..."

"No." He answered again. "There was never anyone else. Never could be. There was only just you. There's always been just you."

You nodded thoughtfully.

"Would you like to feel your son?"

"Huh?"

"He's kicking. Would you?"

Bruce gave you an enthusiastic nod and sat beside you, allowing you to guide your hands to the exact spot the baby was kicking him. Sure enough, he felt something press against his hand repeatedly. He chuckled, automatically leaning forward to feel it better.

"Hey there, little guy," he whispered. "I can't believe you're real."

You stood there for a while, him by your side, hand on top of your stomach. It felt weird, but in a comforting way. It was just you and Bruce and your unborn child, and you somehow felt like things were okay. Everything was fine.

"I've never stopped loving you either," you said after a while. Bruce turned to you, allowing you to speak. "When I found out I was pregnant, all I wanted was to call you, let you know we were finally going to be parents...

"I can't promise that things will return immediately to the way they were. I can't promise I won't be mad at you, because I am, I really am."

You shifted in your seat to face him better. Your eyes trailed his face; how you missed it. The lovely cheekbones you loved to trace on lazy Sunday afternoons, the forehead you loved to kiss on clingy mornings. He looked just as bit as handsome as he did the last time you'd seen him. His eyebags were deeper and more sagged, but that didn't stop him from being the most handsome man you had ever laid your eyes upon.

"But... I'm willing to try."

Bruce's head shot up.

What?

"You really hurt me, Bruce. I thought I’d never be happy again, thought my life would be ruined forever. I thought I'd lost the love of my life." Your voice failed. "But... although your idea was just terrible, you might have had the best intentions in mind. I just... Wish you'd have spoken to me first."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It killed me inside, it really did. But everything I do has always been for you. You must know that. Must know that every decision I take, good or bad, light or not, is always with you in thought." This time, Bruce did not avert his gaze. He was done looking away, done hiding, done being without you. Should this be the last time he ever saw you, he lingered on your face, committing it to memory. Your pretty eyes, the beautiful shape of your nose, your slightly parted lips. Had anyone ever been this beautiful?

"I know," you replied, giving him hope. "Which is why... Why I'm..." It took a deep breath and a few circles rubbed on top of your stomach to calm you down. This was a huge decision to make. Allowing Bruce back into your life could either be the greatest thing you would do, or possibly the worst. There was no middle-ground, and it scared you. You needed a middle-ground, needed a safety net, needed something that did not put your unborn son's life at risk.

And yet... You couldn't help but still want Bruce. You knew it. Your heart knew it. It still beat for him as loudly as it did the first time he'd kissed you, the time he'd asked you to be his, the first time you woke up with him by your side. You knew his intentions were good. His idea was terrible – fucking terrible – and it had only cost you pain and sadness. But you also knew Bruce made reckless decisions when it came to you. He was in love, and he was extremely protective. He had no one aside from Alfred and you and knew damn well he couldn't get rid of the old butler even if he tried; but would try his hardest to get rid of you if it only meant you got to live another day.

It was both endearing and soul-crushing, as things often were with Bruce.

"Which is why I'm willing to give you another chance."

Bruce released a sigh of release, and dropped his head to his hands, unable to say a word.

"Again, I can't promise I'll forgive you over night. I've just had the worst few months of my life. I won't fall back into your arms immediately. But I want to give you a chance to make things right."

It was only when you saw his shoulders shake, that you realised Bruce was sobbing. You placed a tentative hand on his shoulder and felt him shake his head.

"Bruce?" you asked, "Please talk to me, are you alright?"

He looked up at you and smiled. You quickly realised they were tears of joy.

"I love you so, so much. And I will spend every day of my life for as long as I shall live showing it. I'll make things right. I know I can't take back these past few months, and I know I can't magically take away the pain – nor can I wish for your forgiveness all at once. But I'll make it up to you. Forever. That is my promise to you. Because I love you. Fuck, it's insane how much I love how much I always have. You're my family, and I never want to be parted from you. Ever again."

He reached towards your face, his fingers wiping away something wet. Were you crying? Surely tears of joy too.

"I love you too, Bruce. I never really stopped."

He nodded and leaned closer to your face, eyes dropping to your lips. It was a small question, but he wanted to be sure.

"Is this okay? Can I?" he asked, eyes never leaving your mouth. "Please?" The last question was whispered so softly, you were actually not sure if you'd actually heard it, or just imagined it.

You replied in kind.

"Please."

And without missing a beat, he pressed his lips against yours.

His kiss was familiar. It felt like home. Bruce kissed slowly, taking his time. He was learning you all over again, tongue playfully fighting with yours. His hand cupped your cheek, and he brought you closer to him. It felt nice, it felt familiar, it felt like home.

You still perfectly in his arms, and the thought made Bruce smile into your kiss, pouring even more of himself into it. You gave back tenfold, pressing against him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You missed this. Missed him. Missed not knowing where you ended and he began, missed feeling the soft beat of his heart against your chest, missed the soft groans that rumbled in his chest, missed being enveloped by him.

When you two eventually parted for air, he did not rest, kissing every inch of your face, until you were smiling and giggling and holding his face in place so you could look him in the eye.

"I love you." You spoke.

"I love you too," he replied, before caressing your stomach. "I promise I'll be here for him. I love him so much already. I'll spoil this boy rotten, give him everything he ever needs."

You smiled.

Your life had taken quite a nasty turn after Bruce had "cheated" on you and dumped you. Back then, you thought it was merely because he was, after all, the billionaire playboy everyone accused him of being. Now, you knew it was only because he loved you more than anything and wanted to keep you safe. Yes, he had hurt you, and you wouldn't forget that so easily – but it had still been an action out of love.

You'd been so lost the day you found out you were pregnant, crying on the bathroom of a hotel, clutching your stomach, and feeling like shit.

But right now, with Bruce by your side, his hands on your stomach and cheek, and his eyes regarding you with such tenderness, such warmth, you knew all would be fine.

You'd finally found each other again.

A/N: Whew!!!! We made it!!! Yay!!!! Okay so, in case you've made it this far and are interested to find out what the hell happened to me, just keep on reading!

So, as I mentioned before, I just got back to uni. It's killing me. It's kicking my ass. I've been sleeping less than 5 hours per day, and am currently losing my sanity. I don't have the time to sleep, to study, to write. There's so much to do and it's only the second week, and I'm really sorry for the delay, but things have been hectic. I can't remember the last time I slept more than like, 5 hours.

So, this fic is a bit longer than my other 200 Followers Event one. Here's the thing: I got a lovely request from @xxemmarldxx, but in my mind, it was far too big, and far too ambitious for a short 2/3k word drabble (which was the point of my event). So I told her I would do it properly some other time, because it was just too good, but would end up being way too big.

A few days later, I get this request. And they're very similar. Like, really, really similar. So I was like "You know what. Let's combine them. How about we combine the two, and write a big ass drabble the way I wanted to?"

This is the result. I've been writing this for the past week, and to be fair, it was KILLING ME. I was writing in every possible break, using every free space possible to get a few words in, and at some point, I started seeing it more as a "chore" than something I wanted to do. It became "the fic I need to finish", sort of like a burden. And it's not the requesters fault!!! It's just, I was so busy that, in the middle of everything, I couldn't find joy in writing because I was so stressed.

I'm sorry if this piece is bad. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I think I've done much better in the past, and this is not my best work. The word count got away from me and by the end I was just freaking out because I couldn't write anymore. And that was a real bummer because I love writing and I loved this request so much.

I hope you guys liked reading it and enjoyed it! I really do! I think that for a while I won't be able to write Bruce hahaha, I got a bit tired.

Anyways, I hope you're all having an amazing day!!! <3

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