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chewingcyanide · 4 months

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𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 | 𝐣. 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

₊⊹ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 — secrets are best kept buried, just like your tangled relationship with your best friend’s older brother.

₊⊹ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — unrequited love ( that heart wrenching shit ), cursing? weird mentions and descriptions of blood, cursing ( lots of it ), yelling / arguing ( LOTS of it ), heavy angst with a dash of laughter, kind of OMC x reader but not too much, jealousy, kinda possessiveness ( from jack… had to do it ), emotional distress and all that good stuff

₊⊹ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — jack hughes x f!reader , OMC x f!reader (briefly), best friend!luke hughes x f!reader

₊⊹ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — i’ve returned from a million year hiatus with this BIG BITCH and i’m sorry for it. may write a pt. 2 w a happy ending bc i’m a slut for them. anyway, enjoy! request if you’d like. love you guys.

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You had existed within the world of Jack Hughes since your freshman year of high school.

Existed. Not an integral part, nor a spoke on the wheel of many friends he already had. Truthfully, you were only acquainted with him because of his younger brother, Luke; your freshman biology lab partner, and eventual best friend. Years had passed since you first met Luke—no longer were you the wide-eyed fifteen-year-old crossing the threshold from child to near-adult. Now, you were an adult. Twenty, with two more years of college stretched out before you, seemingly everything had changed.

Well, except for the lead weight chained to your ankle—the fundamental and inexorable truth that you were still in love with Jack Hughes.

It started as most consuming things do: a small idea, watered by brief looks, a brush of heated fingertips against your hand, or arm, or waist—or anywhere, really. A head rush that sent you meters under waves of excitement and anticipation. Loving Jack was like having a fever that never broke; it persisted, a dull ache that squeezed your skull each time he was near. Even now, five years later, the flashing of blue eyes—never brimmed with what you knew was embarrassingly reflected in your own—was enough to make sweat bead at your palms.

It never grew into more than a hope, a wishful desire. But wishing seldom got anyone anywhere, and it surely hadn’t helped you. When the months turned warm and spring faded into summer, the overwhelming ache of freedom that came with warm weather and the end of the hockey season drew Luke and his brothers to Sanibel—a beach so wrought with memories of youth and foolish memories that the idea of going another year made dread settle like steel in your bones. They’d bought it after a vacation there a few years ago, and the rest was history.

But, of course, Luke—the youngest of three—never took no for an answer.

“You can’t miss this year,” he had insisted. The Devils had their hopes cut short once more—this time in an second round exit to Carolina. Ergo, the expected departure time had been bumped up significantly. Vancouver had missed the playoffs altogether.

You stood silent, tearing away skin from your nail-beds as Luke leaned against the kitchen counter. The cold metal of the fridge pressing into the bare strip of skin on your back was the only thing keeping you present in the conversation.

You hated how Luke did this—he’d take your silence over text as an invitation to barge his way into your apartment, destroying the barrier of safety and excuses a phone provided, and ask you face-to-face. And how could you say no? You never had before, and look where that got you. No closer to removing hooks branded with the name Jack from your heart.

“Luke…” you sighed, only dropping your hands when blood bubbled to the surface of your torn skin. Pain rippled down your fingertips, but you ignored it. The dread that quickened your pacing heart was too overwhelming a sensation. “I don’t know—maybe I should—”

“Skip out?” Luke rounded the kitchen counter and came to stand in front of you. “No way, Bells. You have to come. Otherwise I’ll be alone all summer.”

You could have scoffed if you cared more. Bells. That dumb nickname Jack had given you years ago—according to him, it was because you were such a silent walker, you required a bell to be heard. Aside from the embarrassment you got from being called a childhood nickname even now, it reminded you that your existence was always going to be tied to Jack. A piece of him carried with you, a cage keeping your heart from beating without him; the bright red ribbon tied around your wrist that screamed I Love Jack Hughes!

No matter what, it would always be him. You tried; God, did you try. Hearing stories of his hookups, the life of a single, superstar hockey player should have been enough to send your stupid childhood crush to its grave, but as if cursed by a necromancer, the mere mention of Jack brought it right back to life. It was a cruel cycle that just wouldn’t end. And you knew going to that damned beach house would only prolong the life of the indestructible feeling more.

Jack was tarnished jewelry, rubbing your skin green and raw and wrong, and yet—you could never seem to take it off, even when it made you look foolish.

Silence fell like thick fog. Luke’s eyes roved along your face, as if trying to read a book with the letters smudged. “C’mon, Bells. You have fun every year, and I don’t want to have a summer without you.”

“Jack and Quinn will be there,” you said, voice low. Pathetic anxiety swelled in your chest like the forecast of a hurricane. Even saying his name tightened your veins. “Trevor, Alex, and Cole, too—I don’t need to go, Luke. Won’t it be weird?”

An unamused look graced Luke’s face. “You go with us every year. Why would it be different now?”

You wanted to curse Luke for being so persistent. Part of you wished you could just scream that you loved his brother, but couldn’t. You never could. Loving Jack ensured you lost someone—Luke, who would never get over the thought of you potentially sleeping with Jack; and well, if that failed, you also fully lost Jack. Unrequited love confessions made fools of ghosts.

To Jack, you were a ghost. Haunting his life, disrupting some times, but never there long enough to be seen. And even if he did, he convinced himself you weren’t there, that you didn’t even exist. Maybe it were best if you moved on and let yourself rest. Ghosts haunt their murderers, but Jack hadn’t killed you, you’d killed yourself—hoping, wishing, praying he would take a moment to believe and see you. But he never did. So you floated through his life until the moment you were no longer confined by unfinished business.

And maybe that was what you needed. Closure, the severing of a tie that was only hurting you to hold on to. And maybe, closure would come this summer. To look on Jack and not feel your heart race, but settle into a quiet murmur, a healthy pace—to free yourself from the confines of this painful love and finally move on. Haunt the graveyard no longer; sitting by and hoping he would place flowers by the grave.

“Okay,” you said quietly, glancing down at your sweater. Crimson marks stained the white fabric. You’d accidentally wiped your fingers on the cloth. “You win.”

Maybe this would be the summer you let go of Jack Hughes.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

The cry of gulls and gentle breeze of salt-bitter air welcomed you back as the car breezed past the Welcome to Sanibel Island! sign. It felt like a taunt, as if you were passing into the circus, the main star of a show you never signed up for. With Sanibel came Jack, and the potential end to a love you’d clawed onto for dear life for the last half-decade. It felt strange, almost wrong, to imagine a world where Jack Hughes didn’t exist as the basis for all romantic interests. To hold someone’s hand and not compare the texture to his. To lose the anticipated blush that warmed your face each time he glanced at you. Because losing Jack was like losing a piece of yourself—all your life you’d associated love with him, and what would there be afterwards?

Sandy beaches rolled endless at the horizon, dotted with the figures of vacationers and locals alike. You glanced to Luke, his hand working the steering wheel as he drove the long-winded path to the beach house. Strands of your hair were roused by the invisible hand of the wind, no doubt knotting it, but you were too enraptured in what ifs and a potential future to much care.

“Are you excited?” Luke asked, looking to you. Elbow leaned against the doorframe, you managed to work your mouth into a smile. Even if it was twinged with apprehension.

“Of course. I love it here. I’m glad you guys were rich enough to buy it.”

Luke laughed.

And that was true. Summer here felt endless. Nights spent on the beach, the tickle of warmth from a stick-lit fire cradling you against the rush of cold blowing off the ocean. The bitter rush of alcohol that stung your veins. Hair made wet by the sea, drying beneath the warm fingertips of sunlight. Skin richening into a burn, soothed only by aloe vera and a cold shower. Laughter between friends and the restless nights talking. All of it was perfect. For you, summer was Jack. Brief and sweet, the thing you looked forward to seeing each year. But it never lasted long enough to truly feel, something you could never touch.

You wondered if you made it obvious. If Luke suspected, or Quinn; the eldest Hughes was always the most perceptive. Any time Jack said something that made your teeth clench with hurt, Quinn glanced at you. A reassuring smile. The extended hand in the dark. But if he knew, he never commented on it.

“Who’s already here?” you asked, eyes catching on the brightly colored houses lining the beach. Blue, pink, the odd green, melding together as the car breezed into the strip of land the beach house rested on.

You almost dreaded the answer. “Quinn and Jack,” Luke responded, voice a little distant—his eyes scanned for the house, too focused on his task to much care for the cringe you gave at the mention of Jack’s name.

You shouldn’t have been surprised, really. It was his house. Yet you found yourself hoping you’d at least beaten him here so you could mentally prepare for his arrival. As it were, you had about five minutes to do that.

Tires crunched against sand as Luke pulled into the driveway. Lead solidified in your bones until you felt as though you were going to sink straight into the earth. A deep breath expanded your chest, and you watched as Luke took out his phone—presumably to text that he’d arrived. Escaping the car, Luke stared at you expectantly. Your body pressed against the doorframe, eyes glanced out at the horizon. Smeared like a painting across the sky, a myriad of colors—oranges, pinks, yellows—foretold the coming of night. Maybe you could stay in here until everyone was asleep, to sneak past Jack and not have to—

The door to the passenger side opened, and there stood Luke, a hand on his hip. Making grabby hands like a toddler, he motioned for you to come. “What’s up with you, Bells? You’re so… quiet.”

You snorted. “That’s not news.”

“You know what I meant,” retorted Luke, grabbing your elbow with a gentle grip. “What’s got your head off to sea?”

Your brother! you wanted to scream, but found your tongue bolted to the bottom of your mouth. Offering instead a smile, you allowed Luke to help you out of the Jeep. Soft sand caught your feet, cushioning the drop. It felt strange to be back here again, but somehow, you knew it wouldn’t be the same. A rueful feeling ached your bones. This would maybe be the last time you’d ever come to the beach house. If your closure went as you intended… there would be no more summers in Sanibel. No more late beach nights. No more salt air creating a stick sheen on your skin. No more Jack Hughes.

“Just thinking about summer,” was all you said.

Like everything, its temporariness was what made it special.

Together, you and Luke began to unpack the bags from the trunk of the Jeep. “Any fun activities planned this summer?” you asked, hoping to alleviate the tension making your head pound.

Luke gave you a backwards glance as he practically leaned his whole body into the trunk. “New bar opened on the strip,” he told you. “I think we have to go.”

Your eyebrows crinkled. “We’re twenty, Luke. And this is a tourist town, they’re going to ID.”

Luke only smiled, clearly not thwarted by your pessimism. “Lucky then that you don’t have to worry. I’ve got it all figured out.”

You didn’t want to ask how, so instead you sighed, hauling your bag onto your shoulder. “Whatever. But I am not ending up in jail because you want to underage drink in public, Luke.”

There was no response to that. Slinking past you with elegance you thought his large frame incapable of, Luke began walking up the driveway and towards the beach house. It looked exactly the same as it had last summer—a gentle gray exterior, like the storm clouds that sometimes brewed over the sea, and a darker roof. White wood bordered the many windows, some with their own balconies. Rust spotted the metal of the garage, slowly encroaching from the outside. A simple wood fence enclosed the sides of the house, leading to the back where you knew a pool hid. Everything was exactly the same, yet so different. Last time you were here, it all felt so unknown, like the end of the summer would make or break the rest of your year. You’d hoped then that maybe Jack would notice, that it would finally be the year he looked at you as more than Luke’s best friend. You’d packed your cutest outfits, the bikinis your friends said would make any man double-take, yet nothing worked. It had been the same as every year before. Jack was nice, but indifferent. Friendly, but inattentive.

However, this year wasn’t like every other year. You didn’t come here with starry eyes and a child-like hope that Jack would pick you after years of oblivion. You came here to finally let go of him, to move on, to bury a love you’d kept on life support for years and years, in the hopes it would come back to life.

Feet making indents in the sand as you walked up the driveway, you saw Jack’s car—a silver Mercedes-Benz—parked a bit ahead. You hated the stutter in your step when you saw it, and you hated more the stoppage in your heart when you heard laughter rounding the side of the house. There was two voices, interwoven and nearly indistinguishable, but you’d know his laugh anywhere, know it blind. All the feelings you’d shoved aside in favor of an aloof disposition crawled their way out of shallow graves. A shaky breath, the fluttering of your eyes, and suddenly—there he was.

Trailing behind Quinn, soaked black swim shorts clinging to wide thighs, a bare chest coated in droplets of water, tousled hair styled by the unconscious hand of water. He smiled, maybe at something Quinn had said, you weren’t sure, and it all came back. How could you get closure when he incited such a deep, profound longing in your soul? When he tugged you towards him the the moon to the tide?

You’d stopped walking. When, you weren’t sure. Time became an endless thing as Jack’s eyes flickered to you. Those blue eyes shot through with something you weren’t sure how to describe, but he grinned—at you—and then he was walking towards you. All at once you wanted to lob a rock at Luke’s head for making you come, and then kill yourself for even thinking for one moment closure would be remotely possible when you still were in love with Jack.

His presence was all-consuming, like stepping to close to the fire. Fingers worn by years of use brushed your own when he took your luggage, carrying it with ease. Even older than you, Jack never lost that youthful sense of delight you’d seen on kids when they got a new toy. He’d always been the sun. For you, and for everyone around him.

You’d never deluded yourself into thinking you were the only one who loved Jack, or wanted him. But it didn’t stop you from wishing you were the one he’d choose.

“Bells,” Jack greeted, warmth oozing from his words, so much that you wanted to yell at him that he wasn’t being fair. How could he expect you not to want him? How, when he was so nice to you, yet so indifferent? “How was the trip?”

Blinking, you allowed him to gathering your luggage and begin walking back to the house. Water transferred from his body to your tote bag, but you found yourself not caring. He could ruin everything you’d brought and it wouldn’t matter. They’d at least be stained with his touch.

“Good,” you managed, trying to keep your feet even on the lumpy sand. Why they’d decided not to install an actual drive way would never make sense to you. “Not a lot of traffic. Luke didn’t kill us, so that’s a plus.”

Jack laughed. It rumbled through his chest and echoed like a victory trumpet in the air. “He’s a shit driver,” he said. “Shoulda convinced him to let you drive with me.”

Tar filled your lungs. Words failed you, and so stupidity, you said: “But you drove with Quinn.”

Jack quirked an eyebrow. Readjusted your bag on his shoulder. “Quinn’s a big boy. He can travel alone.”

Before you could stop yourself, the words flew out of your mouth, “So you think I’m a little girl?”

Jack paused. Glanced over at you. The meeting of two sets of eyes holding extremely different emotions. After a moment, he cut the tension with another laugh. “You are two years younger than me.”

“So is Luke, and last I checked, he was the tallest,” you retorted, offering up a chuckle yourself. You didn’t want to give more, to give in. You had to keep that wall, even if there was already so many holes in it.

With his free hand, Jack tussled your hair, wiggling your head around. You batted him off, feigning annoyance, when really, you wanted him to keep touching you. You could have groaned. God, you were pathetic.

Entering the beach house was like entering freedom. It was typically decorated, that seaside aesthetic Ellen had done herself the first year the boys bought the house. Fishing net and shells in jars, accompanied by hanging hammocks and white coral displays hadn’t moved, and you felt the air greet you, blowing in from the open back door that looked over the pool—and the beach. Salty air snaked up your airway, a welcome sting. A missed one. You weren’t sure if you’d miss Jack or the beach house more.

Luke disappeared with Quinn, the latter offering a gentle smile—perhaps a little pity twinged in. That left only you and Jack, standing in the wide mouth of the living room, the sunset sky bathing your skin in those candle-light oranges you so loved. Beside you, the gentle pat, pat, pat of water dripping off of Jack’s shorts was all that was heard. You took a moment more to enjoy the feeling of peace you got from being here, before Jack snapped you back to the current with a throat clear.

“Want me to bring your stuff to your room?” Your room. The one you’d claimed all those years ago. A room that—after this summer, perhaps—would bo longer be yours. You’d spent hours decorating it, little trinkets imposed with sentiment covering the room. The sea blue sheets. The balcony overlooking the ocean. All of it would be gone.

You had to inhale to stave off the melancholia crawling up your throat like bile. “Yeah, thanks.”

It was hard not to look at Jack. He was always the center of attention—on the ice, off the ice; in his personal life, in the eye of the public. He just was. Never asked for it, always had it. Girls wanted him, boys wanted to be him. You imagined it got tedious after so many years, but at the same time, you wondered what it would be like to be that loved. So adored you could have anything and anyone. You found you’d trade it all for him, for Jack, if he simply asked. You knew he wouldn’t do the same. Why give up freedom for a small-town girl that his brother had dragged around for longer than he probably should?

Up the stairs, through a hallway, and there your room was. You tried to revel in it, in the finality of it all. Convinced you were never coming back here. That Jack would never carry your luggage for you again, making a mess of the floors just to help you out. Inside, you saw the bed was made just like how you left it. A small whale plush—affectionately named Hershey for the chocolate it had been holding when it was won at the arcade—was sat just before the pillows. You hadn’t left him there. Hershey was a cherish piece of history; Jack had won him for you, two years back. Whales were your favorite animal, a gentle giant, the crown of the sea. He knew it, and he had gotten him for you. Maybe that was what kept your hope alive, the little things, the moments where he was more than just an unreachable deity you prayed to repeatedly just for him to notice you.

You glanced over your shoulder as Jack placed your luggage down with a thud. He rubbed his hands together. “Found him downstairs,” he said, gesturing to Hershey, “figured I’d bring him home.”

Home. A word that made your gut turn. His home, but never yours.

“Oh, yeah,” you said lamely. “Wouldn’t want to lose Hershey. You tried so hard to win him.”

Jack scoffed. “I was playing against Trevor. I’d be embarrassed if I didn’t win.”

“Don’t talk about Trevor like that,” you teased with a smile. Finding yourself slipping back into the dynamic. You’d try to make him laugh, just to make him smile. Just to make him see you could make him happy.

Jack only rolled his eyes. You attempted to side-step him, only for your foot to catch his own. A hand immediately came to your rescue, steadying you. A hot flush pinkened your cheeks and slid down your spine. His breath fanned over your temple, a catalyst for every single one of your nerves fraying. You hated that he could do this to you, without trying, without caring, when you tried so hard to avoid falling back into him like a fool. It wasn’t fair—but when was love?

Jack pulled his hand away, the phantom of his fingers imprinted on your skin. Marked. Just like you’d always been. “Sorry,” you muttered, embarrassment eating at you.

His laugh was a reward. “It’s fine,” he responded. It was always fine with Jack. Never hard feelings. You didn’t think he had a aggressive bone in his body, even after years and years of playing physical hockey. “Even after all the years, you still can’t stay on your feet.”

A reference to your clumsiness. Which wasn’t clumsiness. It was just Jack. You never stumbled around anyone but him. “Yeah,” you bit out, probably harsher than intended. “Guess I haven’t changed.”

But you had. And you needed to find a way out of the hole that was Jack Hughes before you were buried alive.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Letting go of things has never been easy. Marked with scratches and tears, everything you’d ever relinquished never left the same. How could it, when you’d spent so much time loving it, cherishing it, only for it to be cruelly ripped from your grasp? Letting go had never been easy, because you’d never been ready to lose what was taken, because it was never ready to leave you either. That’s why it was so easy to reason with yourself about finally moving on from Jack Hughes.

It wasn’t mutually assured destruction. There would be no blowing out of stars and creation of supernovas when you finally put the love to rest. Because it was you. It was never him. He didn’t love you—hell, he didn’t even know you loved him. Perhaps there laid the foundation for burial, a tomb within the dunes, marked with a single shell. When the time came, no claw marks would mar Jack’s skin. He was never yours to mark.

Two weeks had since passed. Settling in had always been easy, but this time, it felt like a final meal before execution. A good thing before the inevitable end. Nights spent by the pool, the reflection of the water a perfect mirror of Jack’s eyes. Drinking and laughing and talking—a chosen family, but one you’d soon depart. You’d always have Luke, the last cord of the fraying rope, unbreakable and timeless. But never again would you tug on that rope, just to see the other end. To move on from Jack would be to forget him, as much as you could.

The summer sun blistered overhead, biting your skin until red bloomed. Splayed out on a beach towel, you opted to suntan while the boys enjoyed the water. You’d get in, eventually, preferably when Jack was not in. You didn’t want the distraction of his body to further make you doubt your ability to handle change. Back facing the sun, you remained entranced by the book in front of you, instead imagining your love life was as explosive and beautiful as the story written for you. When you went to flip the page, something hit your back—a ball, you guessed, from the feeling of impact—making your already sunburnt skin sting like hell.

“Shit,” you cursed, placing your book face down in order to stand. Glancing to the side you figured the ball bounced off to, there sat the culprit: a black-and-white soccer ball, covered in patches of sand.

You heard some shouting, and opted to be a good samaritan and grab it. As you bent down to pick up the sandy ball, another pair of hands invaded your vision and brushed your own. Rightening, you saw a tall man—your age, presumably—who immediately began spewing apologies of all kinds.

He had that youthful look to him, the same as Jack. Golden curls fell around his eyes, slightly sandy, a bit wet, but gleaming like rays of sunlight. Familiar eyes, the blue of the sky after a storm, peered at you with a mixture of concern and apology. He was beautiful, in an artful way—a hand-sculpted effigy, lain in the town square to be worshiped. You figured with age and maturity he presently lacked, he’d be all the more beautiful.

But he wasn’t Jack.

“I am—so sorry!” he spewed words like bullets, hoping one apology landed. You bit down a laugh at the desperation leaking into his voice. “I wasn’t watching where I was kicking. Sorta shanked it—scratch that, really shanked it. Are you okay—I meant to ask—”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off, sparing him. As endearing as his apology was, you could see red rising to his face—you knew what it felt like. “Although I don’t recommend you shoot for the Premier League.”

Upon realizing you weren’t angry, the boy relaxed. “Yeah, as if,” he laughed, tossing the balls back and forth between his hands. “You are okay, right?”

Your eyebrow quirked. “Unless you’re secretly the Hulk, I don’t think you kicking a ball at me could do any serious damage.” Your fingers grazed the spot the ball struck. “Might have a weird mark on my back, ‘s all.”

Goldie Locks, as you’d taken to calling in him your head, circled around you and bent at his knees. His fingertips grazed the small of your back, rattling your spine into a shiver. You heard a subdued sound—something between a giggle and a sharp exhale of air through his noise—and twisted to look down at him.

“It looks dumb, huh?” you said, trying to feel the patter marked on your back with your fingers.

Goldie Locks shook his head. “You wear it well.”

“I better, or I’ll give you a matching mark,” you teased. He stood up, imposing. “Really, though, I’m fine…”

He caught on swiftly. “Jackson. Or Jack.”

You could have cursed the Gods and Fate and her trifling ways. Of course the first cute guy you find has to be him, but not be him. The great irony of life, you supposed it was. Finally ready to move on, and your tugged right back to square one.

A tight smile made its way onto your face. “Jackson.”

Jackson opened his mouth to say something, but the voice of the man you quite literally could not escape interrupted him. “Bells? You okay?”

You thought briefly of faking fainting.

“I’m fine,” you responded, without looking at Jack. You couldn’t. But you wanted to. “He just hit me with a soccer ball and was apologizing.”

Jack imposed into your vision anyway. Jaw working, the rapid flex of his muscles that told he ran to you. Suddenly, the sweltering heat was no longer the cause for your sweating. “Hit you?” he repeated, glancing to Jackson with a raised brow.

Shoved into an unwanted spotlight, Jackson immediately backpedaled. “Accident. Didn’t mean to hit your girl.”

Your girl.

Those two simple words repeated like a scratched vinyl in your mind. Jack’s girl. His. It was something that would have made past you puff your chest. It made present you feel sick. Another pull towards him. Another lock trapping you inside of the room. In the past, you wouldn’t have said anything—wouldn’t have fought it. You’d have waited to see if Jack would deny it; he always did. Another nail in the coffin. How many were needed until you finally understood?

But you were now actively trying to fight the feeling seemingly hardwired into your blood. The instinct that told you to love Jack. “Oh, we’re not dating,” you told Jackson. Blue eyes flittered to you—was he surprised? For once you denied, distanced. Was he confused? “He’s my best friend’s older brother.”

You didn’t know why you added that part. It wasn’t necessary—Jackson didn’t care about your relationships to Jack past the words not dating. But here you were, petty pride swelling in your chest at finally getting to stick it to Jack. Finally being the denier instead of the denied.

“Oh,” Jackson quirked his brow. Glanced at Jack; he said nothing. “Is it okay if I have your number?”

That shocked you. And it clearly shocked Jack, as well. His shoulders tensed, eyes darting to you. Gauging your response. You would have said no before. Would have made some dumb excuse. If you accepted, you distanced yourself from Jack, showed indifference. Past you couldn’t have that.

Present you could.

“Sure,” you said.

This summer would be different.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been on a date. Michael Neely in eleventh grade, but that was in major part because he looked entirely too similar to Jack—didn’t act like him, however. Didn’t smile like the sun’s envy. He just wasn’t Jack. For as long as you could remember, no one had been. Isolating yourself for years because of the off chance Jack would finally admit it, as if he’d been pulling a big joke on you and had actually wanted you back. But he never did. And you couldn’t wait around forever hoping he would. He never asked you to.

You went through your hair with a brush one final time before deeming yourself presentable. A knit green tank-top paired with denim shorts, warm vanilla perfume—one you’d used since Jack had offered a compliment on the scent—and a smile that you hoped appeared genuine. For once you were excited, not thinking of Jack, measuring Jackson up to him. You let Jackson be himself, undeterred by the ghost of your unrequited love.

The downstairs of the beach house was alive with loud laughter and conversation—you hated you could still pick out Jack’s laugh, could imagine his face when he did; the gentle scrunch of his nose, the squint of his eyes. You wondered if it would ever go away, that sixth sense. If you’d ever be truly and unapologetically free.

Rounding the corner, you were met with the sight of the three brothers playing what looked to be Chel, their eyes fixated on the large TV in front of the couch they were splayed on. You debated slinking out of the house, silent as they’d always teased you for being, just to avoid the awkward conversation you knew would come from the knowledge you—Bells, infatuated devotee of Jack Hughes—were going on a date with a boy you’d known a week.

Fiddling with your fingers, you stood at the back of the couch. Not wanting to interrupt their game, you went to simply tap Luke on the shoulder, hoping he’d eventually pause it. He wasn’t the one to do it, however. Luke and Queen groaned in annoyance when the screen paused, glancing over to the only person who could have done it. Jack didn’t spare them a glance. His homely blue eyes were on you, eyebrows furrowed. Following his gaze, Luke and Quinn gave you a once-over.

“Hell are you going all dolled up like that, Bells?” Luke asked, flicking you on the wrist.

You didn’t really think you were dolled up. “I have a thing called a date, Luke.”

That incited the expected awkward silence. As if drawn by a unbeatable force, you found yourself glancing to Jack. White-knuckled, he gripped the controller with such force you were surprised it didn’t break on him entirely. You briefly wondered what his issue was before Quinn spoke.

“With who?” Surprise laced his question, and you hated it. Hated that he thought you were incapable of moving on from Jack—or maybe he didn’t think you incapable, just averse.

“That guy from the beach, right, Bells?” Luke piped up, turning his body on the couch to face you. “What was his name? Jack?”

You ground your jaw. “Jackson.”

Luke shrugged. “Same thing.”

It wasn’t. You really hoped it wasn’t.

You turned to leave, intent on scurrying out like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, when a voice called you back. Always calling you back, just when you tried to leave.

“Bells,” Jack spoke, voice drawled. You didn’t turn. “Where are you going?”

You blinked at him, dumbfounded. “On a date…?”

“Where?” You figured it could have been a growl if he were less careful. Luke and Quinn glanced at each other. You fought back a scream.

Why do you care? Why now? When I’m about to move on? I spent so much time waiting for you. I’m done.

You wanted to scream those words at him, but of course, like most confessions, they went unsaid.

“The cove,” you humored him, eyes flicking to your fingers. When had they started bleeding? The cove, of course, was as it sounded: a small chunk of land past the rock barrier at the beach, cornered in by mangroves and hidden away from sight, Jackson claimed it the perfect place for a seaside picnic. You weren’t one to argue.

When Jack made no effort to respond, you finally left. Jackson wasn’t even there yet, but you couldn’t stay inside anymore. Indecision and confusion were eating away at your gut, turning your mind into a war zone. You didn’t understand—couldn’t understand. Years spent in the shadow of Jack Hughes had taught you to fear the light, that if you even for a second let the rays touch you, came the consequence of losing the shade forever. And you’d tossed those fears aside, let yourself into the light, and that only made the dark come back in full force.

It wasn’t fair. Why weren’t you allowed to move on? To finally break the bonds that you yourself had made? Jack had never kept you near, and yet now he didn’t seem to want to let you go. Like a child unwilling to relinquish a toy just because it was theirs.

You tried not to dwell on it. Not when Jackson pulled up, his 4Runner breaking the noise of gulls calls and rumbling cars. Not when he led you out to the cove, picnic basket in hand, like an old-timey romance your mother used to watch. You tried, but just like everything concerning not thinking about Jack, miserably failed. Jackson was attentive, sweet, he did it all right. And as much as you hated yourself for thinking it, it was true: he wasn’t Jack.

“Are you a local?” Jackson asked you. Your mouth closed around a strawberry, staining your fingertips red—better than blood, you supposed.

The tide lapped gently at the sand before your feet, spanning out from beneath the quilt laid beneath you and Jackson. Always coming close, but never quite enough to wet your feet. Gnarled roots of mangrove trees split the sand, boxing the little cove in. You remembered coming here with Jack once, when he was trying to make up for throwing you in the pool with your phone in your back pocket. He hadn’t set up a picnic, only sat beside you in the sand and offered you Hershey. A silent apology. One you never forgot.

Trying to build over that memory was like trying to filter the salt out of the sea. There was too much to ever fully get rid of it.

A breeze tickled your legs. Sand parted between your toes. Everything felt normal; normal, you realized, wasn’t always right.

“No,” you responded after some time, tossing the strawberry head to the sea. “I come here every year with my best friend, his brothers, and their friends.”

Jackson nodded. “The guy from the beach, the one I thought you were dating—” You fought the urge to cringe, “—that was Jack Hughes, right?”

Always the icon. Beloved, beautiful Jack Hughes.

You glanced at Jackson. He smiled. “Yeah, I’ve known him for years. His brother is my best friend.”

“Yeah, I remember you saying that,” he laughed, a whimsical sound. Off-key; pitched too high. You didn’t think you’d be able to differentiate it in a room of others. “How’d that even happen?”

You grinned. Memories of freshman year. Restless nights spent studying in Luke’s room. False trips to the bathroom just for a chance at a glance of his brother. “Luke and I met in our freshman year biology class. He absolutely sucked. Had to tutor the poor kid so he wouldn’t fail.”

Jackson shook his head, the mess of golden curls crowning him danced with the movement. Raising a finger, he wagged it at you as if apprehending a naughty dog. “Hold on now. Biology is damn hard, cut him some slack.”

You giggled. Almost cringed. You felt like a schoolgirl again, trying to slow time as a cute boy walked past. “Maybe if you’re a loser.”

More time passed, the sun’s rays dulled to a warm orange instead of a blinding yellow. The sea calmed. Unseen birds chirped and sung their tunes, never to be understood. Jackson asked questions, answered some. He indulged, dug deep, hoping for treasure. It was strange, to fix your hair and bat your lashes in the hopes of impressing a boy who wasn’t Jack Hughes. Stranger yet you were enjoying Jackson, even fantasizing about a second date. The cold fingers of the wind rose gooseflesh in its wake; your arms rose to combat it, folding against your body in hopes to retain heat. Jackson peered over.

“Cold?” he asked, presumptuous and forward and hoping; one arm already out of his cardigan.

You nodded, murmuring a thanks as Jackson draped his sweater over your shoulders. At once the smell of salt and secondhand smoke snaked up your nose, invaded your airways. It was so different from the warm amber you imagined your skin would faintly smell of if Jack made you his—he smelled like heartbreak and sleepless nights and longing, something you feared was permanently smeared on your flesh. You found yourself heating at the scent, blushing, a slight twinge of excitement at the thought of being claimed by another boy. Foolishly, maybe, you thought it could purge Jack from you, draw over the marks he’d made all over your flesh.

You’d had boys like you before, liked them back—felt the head rush that accompanied youthful yearning. None had ever compared to Jack. Like a stain on your favorite shirt, he’d never come out of your heart, a scar that pulsed every so often, a reminder that he was still there. That he’d never go away. You realized now, looking at Jackson—the soft lines that sprouted next to his eyes when he smiled, a mess of curly blond hair that seemed to fall perfectly in front of his eyes, catered specifically to his beauty—that the memories of wounds weren’t always bad. They weren’t just reminders that you’d been hurt, but that you survived.

Before your mind could conjure any wishful images of you and Jackson, he spoke, “Tomorrow night, there’s a beach bonfire.” His finger extended, curled a stray piece of hair out of your eyes. “Something the locals do every year to kick off summer.”

You smiled—genuinely smiled, not just a flash of teeth forced in order to hide a grimace. Not the smiles you got so used to giving Jack. “And you’re telling me this because…”

Banter. He could tell you knew where he was getting, yet wanted him to spell it out anyway. “Go with me? I think you’d enjoy it,” he said, voice gentle over the lap of waves against the shore. You could almost feel the world hold its breath, awaiting your answer. Would you cling to a hope and dream, or go with what was sitting in front of you? “Plus, having a pretty girl with a perfect personality on my arm wouldn’t hurt too bad.”

“Hmm…” You faked contemplation, tapping your chin. When Jackson flicked your forehead, you scoffed, batting at his hand. “Well now I’m reconsidering my answer, ass.”

Warm fingers wrapped around your wrist, caught it midair, a fish hooked on a line. Feverish, a heat you’d only associated with one person your whole life rose to your head as Jackson’s eyes met yours. Not blue, green. Your mind didn’t even attempt to paint over them, to erase his color, to make him him. Lips wet by eager tongues, a mutual desire. When had you last even considered another man romantically, sexually?

The answer was: not since Jack Hughes barged his way into your life and trapped your heart behind a wall, tossing away the key.

Before anything could be realized, before you could experience your first kiss in what felt like forever, a dull vibrating ripped the moment to shreds. Annoyance flashed in your heart, and a part of you told you to ignore it—but you couldn’t. What if something had gone wrong? Apologetically, you tore your eyes away from Jackson and dug your phone out of your back pocket.

The name flashing on the screen had your heart clenching.

Jack.

“Yes?” Confused, clipped. Why was Jack calling you?

“Oh, uh, hey,” came Jack’s voice—you frowned at his tone. He sounded as if he didn’t even know why he was calling. “I was just… calling to see when you’d be home tonight.”

A scream bubbled in your throat. This is why he was calling you? “This could have been a text.”

Jack laughed dryly. “Guess so. Figured you wouldn’t have seen it.”

You didn’t want to admit he was right. “It’s what…” You took your phone away from your face to look at the time. 8:43. “8:43? I’m not sure, Jack. We’re still at the cove.”

Shuffling on the other end. Your eyes darted to Jackson; he seemed intrigued at who was calling you. “Right, well… Luke wanted to know, so…”

You frowned. “Then why didn’t Luke call me?”

“Playing Chel,” was all you got in response.

Pettiness whirled in your chest like a maelstrom. For once you had the upper hand; cards hidden against your chest, not splayed out for all to see. Maybe with the right move, Jack would fold after so many years of winning. It was childish, you knew that, but the child in you who’d hoped and hoped and hoped only to get turned down every single time awoke—wanted Jack to feel the burn she’d felt when he’d sunk his hooks into her heart.

“I may not come home tonight,” you told him, relished in the pause. Jackson’s eyes flickered to you, curious.

“What?” Jack asked, voice darkened with knowing and other terrible emotions. “What do you mean?”

He knew very well what you meant.

“Absolutely fucking not.” You resisted the urge to recoil at the scorching flame simmering in Jack’s tone; he rarely ever spoke to anyone like that, least of all you. “You met him this week, Bells. If you aren’t home by 10:30 I’m coming to find you.”

Rage flared. You weren’t sure why. Maybe because you could pretend like he cared. As if he had any right to tell you when you had to be home. “So what? Now I have a curfew?” You didn’t want Jackson to overhear the spat, but it’s clear he was watching, listening, picking apart the conversation. “Forgot the part where you were my mother, Jack.”

“You’re staying in my house,” he retorted sharply. “10:30. I’m not kidding.”

After that, the line went dead.

Fire lashed in your veins, threatening to burn your being to ash. How dare he? Just as you inched out of the cage, he tries to drag you back in. Why did he care now? Why couldn’t he have before?

Why?

Tears taunted you. Tried to slip past your eyes. You had given so many tears to Jack, expected him to bottle them and place them on a shelf, a reminder to never hurt you again. He never did. The moon’s rays were a solace, an extended comfort from who knew loneliness better than anything. Soft fingers touched your arm, didn’t push—only rested there, a reminder of consolation.

“He’s like an older brother, huh?” Jackson tried to alleviate your melancholy, revive your playful spirit like a necromancer.

It only made you sadder. If only Jack were like an older brother, if only your heart hadn’t chosen him to beat for.

“Yeah,” you chuckled dryly. “Let’s be glad he won’t be there tomorrow.”

A bright grin tugged on Jackson’s lips. “So you’re coming?”

You smiled.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

10:15.

The bright light of your phone screen cut through the darkness as you walked up the sandy driveway to the beach house. The departing rumble of Jackson’s 4Runner interrupted the ballad sung by the cicadas and crickets, a sound that followed you all the way to the front door. Sliding your sunflower-adorned key out of your pocket, you fiddled with the lock before finally managing your way into the house. The biting cold of the summer night was promptly chased away by the inviting warmth, but you found yourself unwilling to remove Jackson’s green cardigan. Plastic buttons twirled between your fingers, a few stitches unraveled. Well-worn, loved—smelled like summer nights and escape. You smiled to yourself.

The hum of the TV, along with its vibrant glow startled you as you crossed into the living room area. Despite the somewhat early time, you hadn’t expected anyone to be awake. But there Luke was, curled up on the couch, watching Grease. You could have laughed if you weren’t more aware; Luke had always had a major small crush on Sandy, his guilty pleasure movie, one that came with summer nights and hours talking into the AM. Rounding the foot of the couch, you plopped down next to Luke, startling him out of what appeared to be oncoming sleep.

“Back already?” he asked groggily, clearing the gravel out of his throat. He straightened, blinked a few times. “I take it you didn’t get laid.”

You glared at Luke, silently cursed his teenage-boyishness. “Not everyone fucks on the first date, dick,” you retorted, smiling. “Someone here gave me a curfew. Said he’d come looking for me if I didn’t come back in time; I wasn’t too keen on testing him.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Cockblock,” he muttered. “Which of them was it? Quinn? He seems like the type.”

“The other one,” you corrected, earning a confused look from Luke. “Exactly! That’s what I thought. Also, did you ask Jack to ask me when I’d be home?”

“No,” Luke drawled, raising an eyebrow. “Why would I?”

That son of a bitch.

Was he just dead set on denying you happiness? Why couldn’t he just admit to caring even a little about you? Why dress up good deeds as the requests of others? Nothing about Jack made sense; it never had. You supposed that was part of the appeal, the mystery of it all. A puzzle gathering dust on the shelf, tried and forgotten for its difficulty. You’d always had a knack for choosing the hardest games.

You waved Luke off, not wanting to hear his conspiracies tonight. Maybe tomorrow, when you didn’t have the weight of a thousand unanswered questions close to caving in your chest. “Nothing,” you said. “Are Quinn and Jack awake?”

Luke eyed you. He saw through you—always had. Yet, for the sake of your dwindling sanity, chose silence. “Quinn isn’t, no,” he told you. “Went to bed like an hour ago.”

“Old man,” you commented, earning a laugh. “And Jack?”

Luke’s eyes flickered to the door leading to the back porch. A warm orange glow was visible through the drawn curtains. “He’s in the pool, I think.”

You nodded. Came to a resolution in your withering heart. “Right,” you murmured, standing. Before departing, you pressed a kiss to Luke’s cheek. “Night, Luke. Go up to your room, if you fall asleep here, I won’t be able to carry you to your bed.”

Luke rolled his eyes, nudged your leg with his knee. “How unfortunate.” Then, he stood, and disappeared up the stairs.

Dread swarmed in your stomach like a tornado, wrecking every defense you’d built up these past weeks to keep out a certain boy. You feared damage control wouldn’t be enough this time, that you couldn’t rebuild if Jack shut you down now. But you had to confront him, had to at least tell him to stop controlling you if nothing else. This summer was meant to be your closure, the final chapter in a book you never thought would end. It felt more like the procession to the grave, not the closing of a door.

What if losing your love for Jack lost you him?

The back door swung open with a squeal, piercing the once thick silence. With your presence swiftly outed, you forewent attempting discreetness, and eased out onto the pool deck. Fingers of frost grabbed for your exposed skin, only combated by Jackson’s cardigan. Bones rattling, you wondered why on earth Jack was going for a swim right now of all times.

You heard the lapping of water, roused by movement, before you saw him. The fluorescent underwater lightning cut through the darkness and reflected on your face, a myriad of whites and blues that was distinctly Jack. When you came to the pools edge, your eyes focused on him—clad in nothing but a pair of blue swim shorts—floating ok his back, eyes closed, as if imagining himself in a different place. You almost felt sorry to ruin the fabrication of his mind. Remembering your anger, you pushed aside the feeling. Why should he be given peace when he’d never given you any?

Before you could even open your mouth, his eyes opened, as if sensing you. He adjusted, treading water, as you merely assessed each other. Waiting. Who would draw first? You. It had always been you.

“I’m home now,” you bit out, your leash gone; Jackson wasn’t here to judge you. “Happy?”

Water lapped at Jack’s collarbones. You almost envied it for being able to touch him so freely. His eyes darted around you, then stopped on the cardigan. Forest green, like Jackson’s eyes. You knew he knew; you hadn’t been wearing it when you left.

“Cute,” he commented, sarcastic and dripping with cruelty you’d never heard from him before. He parted the water with ease, as if he expected everything to bend to his will.

Jack stopped where you stood at the edge. You looked down on him for once, a prick of pride stinging you as for once you had the high ground. For once, he wasn’t able to confine you with his overwhelming presence and being. Fingers curled around the edge of the pool, his hair dripping tears of chlorine-tainted water down his face, Jack merely watched you, waiting a scolding, the tantrum of a child who had what she wanted torn away.

You thought if unfair someone could be so beautiful, especially when he could never be yours.

“What is your issue?” you snapped finally, folding your arms, protecting your glass heart from his insults he’d fire like arrows. “I asked Luke, he said he never asked you what time I’d be home. Was it fun for you? To ruin my date?”

Jack scoffed. Arms corded with muscle flexed, rose from the water; a heave and he was on his feet in front of you, your leverage lost. Water bled off his body like a torrent, soaking your shoes. Droplets flicked on Jackson’s cardigan, the water staining through. You stepped back instinctively, throat tight. You hated how, even now, he had an effect on you.

“Ruin?” he echoed, eyebrows creased. “Don’t be dramatic. It wasn’t like you were planing on staying out with him past 10:30. I was doing you a favor, giving you an out.”

Classic Jack; thinking he knew better than everyone else. “You weren’t, actually,” you hissed. “I didn’t need an out, Jack; I was enjoying myself. So much so I’m going out with him again tomorrow night.”

That was unnecessary to say, you knew. A bite only given to wound him, to prove you were capable of rising from your knees and tearing down the shrine you’d devoted to him for years. Because if Jack Hughes was no longer your sun, you didn’t need to revolve around him—shine only when he was near. Pathetic and driven by childish need to probe yourself, you wanted Jack to hurt—even if you knew he never would, that he couldn’t care less about who you loved and who you were with.

You just wished that he did.

A flicker of confusion. A frown, and then, “What?”

“Jackson invited me to the beginning of summer beach bonfire,” you told him, watching Jack’s jaw tense. You wanted to look away, but couldn’t—he’d always been so encapsulating. “It’s tomorrow night.”

His presence invaded every defense you’d placed up. Chin tipped to look at him, you felt suddenly claustrophobic, as if boxed in—everywhere you looked was him. Deep breaths made each muscle of his chest flex and tense, well-sculpted from years of punishing activity. You hated the flush that almost burned your face. You hated the thunder of your pulse that drowned out any noise but your racing heart. You hated the effect he had on you.

“You aren’t going,” he said simply, as if he had any say.

You frowned. “Yes, I am.”

Jack’s lip wrinkled. Condescension dripped from his voice. “No, you aren’t.”

You could have strangled him. You really could have. “You aren’t my father, Jack. You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m going.”

He smiled at you. Smiled like he thought you opposition was funny. “You met this guy this week, Bells,” he said, as if it were obvious. “Not only that, you have no idea who’s going to be at this bonfire. What if something goes wrong? You think Golden Boy is going to play the white knight?”

Ignoring what Jack had called Jackson, you turned to leave. You were absolutely not having this argument with him. Not when it was ultimately your decision and your life. Before you could even make it a step, a wet hand clamped around your arm, fingers closing around you like a vice—Jack spun you, unsteadying you. In an effort to save yourself a trip straight down, you threw up your hands, connecting palms with the rigid plane of Jack’s chest. Heat rose to your face, a feverish high sinking the logic of your brain. All of a sudden, you were sixteen again hoping Jack would come out of his room while you were in the hallway.

Breath deepened, you searched for an out—a way to defend yourself. The sword lying at your palms was cheap, but effective, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

But you did know better. And you knew he wasn’t; you just wished he was.

Jack smiled. Predatory. “Of Jackson?” Fingers loosened—you took the chance to escape, pulling yourself free of Jack’s hold. “If you’re going to try and make me jealous, maybe do it with someone who doesn’t have my fucking name.”

He breezed past you, disappearing inside like a shadow.

You looked down. Eyes grazing the cardigan. A wet handprint stained the arm. Jack’s handprint.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Smoke thickened the air into a husky, palpable haze. Dozens of conversations overlapped into one massive dissonance, drowning out the harsh crash of waves upon the shoreline. Bathed in an amber glow provided by a massive fire housed upon a hearth of triangularly-laid sticks, the beach was alive with drinking and laughing and dancing. Sand cushioned your feet, sandals dangling in your hands. Jackson haunted your side, keeping close. He led you in deeper, parting throngs of people like the Red Sea. Greeting a few of them, introducing you.

Excitement turned your blood hot. Rebellion made it all the sweeter. Despite Jack’s vehement opposition against your coming here, you’d done it anyway. When the boys had decided to get a few drinks at the new bar that opened up, you feigned sun sickness as a result of a day at the beach. Whether or not they believed you didn’t matter much—they’d left, which allowed you the chance to be here.

All you had to do was be home before them, which shouldn’t have been difficult. They’d be home in the early hours of the morning.

Mingling with Jackson was simple enough—people didn’t much care who you were. Just that you existed. Beers were handed to you, drank quickly. You wanted to have fun, to let yourself exist without the shackle that was Jack Hughes dragging you back from any romantic venture. A heated hand slipped in your own; Jackson smiled at you. Stomach knotted in a ball, you downed the rest of your White Claw and grinned back.

“You feelin’ okay?” he asked, bending down to better carry his voice to you. The proximity of his face warmed your chest.

“Mhm,” you hummed, relishing in the head rush. Being drunk wasn’t something you did often, what with being underage. There were parts you hated, parts you sought. Like the current buzz of warmth that whispered false confidence through your bloodstream.

The confidence that made you lead Jackson to the water’s edge, hidden from the glow of the fire, shadows outlined by the light of the moon. Rosy-cheeked, you tossed your arms around Jackson’s neck and peered up at him. Although his countenance was lost in the darkness, you could make out blown pupils overtaking his eyes, parted lips lightly doused in alcohol. Water lapped at your feet, danced around your ankles. You didn’t care. Everything in your mind was screaming at you to just do it—kiss him and get it over with, get over with Jack.

Jack.

You hated that even in a moment like this, your mind went to Jack.

It was then—arms tossed around Jackson’s neck, the waves kissing your bare legs—that you realized you’d never let go of Jack. You couldn’t. He was too well in your heart, the patchwork of two souls. If you could, you would turn tail and run, find happiness on the road of abandonment. You wouldn’t have to worry about being alone, isolated simply because people found a piece of your life more interesting than the whole. You wouldn’t have to rebuild your shattered heart when another summer passed by without Jack loving you. You wouldn’t need to remind your heart not to give in to his toothy smile and infectious laugh.

But then, you wouldn’t have Jack. His smile, the devil’s disguise, a shot of oxytocin to the system. Touching of skin, unintentional yet entirely wanted, setting ablaze the wildfire that burned down your castle of wood. Nights spent by the pool, his face illuminated by the glow of underwater lights. The way he made your heart break and mend all at once, the high of a drug that you could never quit. Every time, you relapsed, reminded yourself why you loved Jack—why he was your favorite love, your only one. He didn’t want you for anything, he didn’t even want you.

And maybe it was that; the hypothetical, the possibility. The construct you’d built inside your head, trying to fit into the narrative every summer, but never getting the part.

“Jackson?”

He looked down at you. Green, not blue. Never blue. “Yeah?”

“I don’t think—”

All at once, your arms were falling, cradling empty space as Jackson was ripped away from your touch. A splash of water sent droplets launching into your skin and clothes. You shrieked, stumbled, looked for the culprit. And of course—there Jack stood, huffing, as if he’d run to you. You could barely make out his face, but you didn’t need to; you’d know him blind, by touch alone. Your eyes went down to Jackson, body engulfed in the shallow water. You pieced it together, came into the frantic understanding that Jack had pushed Jackson.

Immediately, you went to help Jackson, only to be tugged back by your elbow. “Jack! What the hell?”

He didn’t grace you with an answer—didn’t even look at you, actually. Those stormy blue eyes were on Jackson, murderous and heated. He shoved you behind him. “What are you doing, huh?” he barked. “Did you know you were giving a minor alcohol? She’s twenty, you fucking idiot!”

Tears of frustration turned your eyes wet, and air became scarce. You wanted to do something, but what could you even do? Jack was accustomed to ignoring you. Stares nipped at the back of your head. Conversation dulled into a lapse.

“Jack, enough,” you begged, the sheer desperation in your voice normally something you’d hate—you couldn’t be bothered to care now. “Please. I’m fine. It wasn’t Jackson’s fault. He didn’t do anything.”

“Stop,” Jack interrupted, eyes flashing to you, a warning. “I told you not to come. Stay out of this, Bells.”

“I had no idea, dude, I swear!” Jackson responded, pulling himself up from the water. Soaked head-to-toe, and dully embarrassed. “She did it herself, I didn’t offer her anything!”

It soured your mouth he was trying to shift the blame to you, even if he was being honest. Your eyes flicked to Jack, and all at once you were reminded why you chose to love him.

His hair was tousled, worked one too many times by frustrated fingers. Eyes wild and concerned, so raw that you could’ve convinced yourself he was that cut by your situation. You knew it wasn’t you; he was just a good person, an empathetic one. But still, you liked to imagine. You’d spent your life imagining what it would be like for him to love you.

“Jack, please, just—”

“Don’t you dare blame her,” Jack’s voice was strangled, as if barely bypassing a wall of fury. “What the fuck do you think this is? The blame game? I don’t care who gave her the alcohol. You brought her here.”

“Please, Jack, let’s just go,” you pleaded, voice tight—embarrassment crawled up your spine like the cold. Everyone was looking, observing the screaming match you’d unfortunately found yourself a part of. “People are looking.”

“I don’t give a shit,” he hissed, advancing on Jackson. Chest-to-chest. A size up; one you hoped wouldn’t result in traded blows. You’d never seen Jack so angry, so wrought with violence. He’d always been docile—kind.

“Why do you care?” Jackson finally snapped, shoving Jack backwards. You tried to intercede, only to be shut down. “She said she wasn’t your girlfriend. Stop acting like a jealous dick.”

Jack laughed. He turned around, facing you as he spoke. “She may not be mine,” he conceded, “but she sure as hell will never be yours.”

Everything was happening to quickly. Your mind struggled to process the entire interaction, how quickly it had all gone sour. Before you could question Jack, scold him, consider the root of his rage, you were being lifted by the middle, and promptly tossed over Jack’s shoulder.

Air fled your lungs, your head pulsed—both from the swift movement and your consumption of what was likely too much alcohol. Jack’s hand stayed on you, keeping you steady as he carried you through the crowd, cutting through blots of people who all looked just as confused as you felt. Anger sparked then, fanned by embarrassment and anger and frustration.

Slamming your fists into Jack’s well-muscled back, you spewed profanities at him. “Put me down, asshole!” He didn’t. Kept walking, over the boardwalk and into the parking lot. Jackson’s 4Runner taunted you. “Jack, let me go! Jack!”

And he did. Your feet felt unfamiliar as he placed you down with little preempt. He steadied you before you could fall, kept a hand on your arm even after. Your heart felt pulled in a million directions, throat filling up with sand—fossilizing in your own skin, mortification sawing pieces off of your soul. Jack looked furious, pacing in front of you. His silver Mercedes gleamed in the moonlight.

“Bells—” He cut himself off. His throat bobbed, ran a hand through his already messed hair. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Your teeth bared. “Me? And what about you, barging into my night and accusing my date of being a criminal? The fuck is wrong with you, Jack?”

Jack laughed. Mocking, mean. You half-wanted to punch him, felt the itch in your fingers. “Oh, forgive me for trying to help you,” he hissed. “What if cops had busted the bonfire, huh? If they’d got you? Do I have to remind you that you’re twenty, Bells? That’s a felony.”

He was right, and you hated it. “But did you have to do all that? Jackson didn’t even give me the alcohol, why did you push him into the water?”

“I already said I don’t care who gave it to you,” Jack grunted, closing in on you. A step back, and you felt your back press into the cold metal of his car. “He was with you. He let you drink.”

You rolled your eyes, tried to muster up a semblance of control. “He doesn’t know my age, Jack.”

“Then he’s a fucking idiot.”

Scoffing, you shoved him away from you. “Oh, is he? Or were we just on a second date, one that you completely ruined! He’s never going to speak to me again, Jack, so thank you for that!”

Faintly, you wondered how you went from adoring Jack to despising him. Maybe it was always meant to be like this. There was a fine line between love and hate.

Eyes flashing, Jack rounded on you. “A second date you shouldn’t have been on,” he snapped. “I told you not to go.”

“New flash: you’re not my keeper,” you said, feeling the anger wane into something worse—fatigue. You didn’t want to fight. Fighting with Jack felt like fighting a part of yourself. “How’d you even find me? You guys were at the bar.”

Jack paused; he noticed your deflated shoulders, sullen face. “SnapMap,” is what he said. He didn’t expand, and you didn’t ask him to.

Silence felt like the worse fog—thick and impenetrable, falling over you like a suffocating blanket. You didn’t know what to say. What could you even say? Jack would never tell you why he was so upset, you didn’t want to ask—didn’t want to hear another made up story he’d spew just to tear apart the hope in your heart.

It hit you then that maybe Jack did love you—or care about you in some capacity, but he’d never admit it. Dancing in circles, a choreography that never ended, you’d never know what Jack truly wanted; didn’t know if he even did. Probably figured you’d screw it up, would ruin a friendship—his and yours, yours and Luke’s. It was a losing battle either way. Every word he uttered cut to the bone, because it was meant to. When the shift started, you didn’t know. Maybe when he realized you were not always going to kneel at his alter, when you tried to escape.

Maybe then he understood, and still avoided—lied, all to protect himself and his brother. He knew, you knew. One wanted, the other avoided. None of it ended well. Heaven was breakable, and he couldn’t dare threaten his own peace. Not even to have you.

You knew then where you stood.

“Why?”

He shook his head, chewed on his lip. “Don’t.”

“Please, Jack,” you whispered. “You owe me an explanation.”

Did he not believe in love? Had a girl hurt him? Was it really Luke, or something else? Why wouldn’t he just try?

“Bells, don’t.”

Your hand reached out. Hoping, praying—it brushed his shirt-clad chest. He didn’t move back, finally looked at you. “You owe it to me, at least. I’ll drop it, I’ll never ask again.”

“We’d just… we’d screw it up,” he managed out, the blue of his eyes richening into a navy. His eyes darted around your face. “I can’t…”

What did it matter anymore? Everything was being bared. All of it. Your fear disappeared into dust; the yearning for a conclusion to this twisted knot of a love died. Just like it always did with Jack—you’d want him, try to forget him, and fail. A never ending loop. But before there had been no chance, now—now you weren’t sure.

“Can’t what?”

Jack didn’t respond. He dug into his pocket. Grabbed his key. “Get in the car.”

The stark change of situation caught you cold. “What—?” You shook your head. You weren’t going to lose this opportunity. “Jack, no. Talk to me. Please.”

“Get in the fucking car.”

You didn’t budge for a moment, then finally, “Okay.”

The drive was silent, thick with awkwardness. What could you say? You’d been so close to coming clean, to finally—after five years—admitting everything. It seemed like Jack had too, but something stopped him. Something always stopped him. You wished you could pick his brain, lay it all out to see the moment he’d stopped seeing you as a ghost, as Luke’s high school best friend. All because you’d tried to move on, because you’d hoped for happiness beyond his black hole persona. But of course, he always managed to drag you back in.

“It’s not fair,” you muttered aloud, semi-an accident. Jack’s eyes snapped to you, the dark road rolling out in front of you.

He worked his jaw. Adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “What isn’t?”

“You,” you grunted, looking out the window. “I try to be happy, move on. You’ve never wanted me before, I didn’t think it would matter. But when I try, you turn it into World War III.”

Jack didn’t say anything. Barely even moved. You wanted to scream, to leap out of the car, if only to see if he’d care enough to come back for you.

“Why now, Jack? Why not before?” you whimpered. Alcohol made you pathetic, even more so than usual. “What changed?”

“Bells,” he warned, nostrils flaring.

“No,” you protested, swiveling your body his way. “I deserve an answer, Jack. Please.”

Silence still.

“Stop the car.”

Jack looked at you. Up and down, before his focus returned to the road. “No. Stop having a tantrum.”

That nearly sent you into a murderous rage. “Stop the car or I’m jumping out.”

Jack scoffed. “You’re not going to jump out of a moving car.”

You clicked off the lock. Fingers tested the handle. When you tore the door open, the alarm blared; wind whipped your arm as you gripped the door, the darkened road greeting your eyes. Thankfully, no one else was out this late. Jack grabbed you with his free hand, slammed on the breaks and veered off onto the side of the road, just beyond the dunes. Beachgrass surrounded the car, the distant buzz of crickets the only thing you could hear as Jack cursed at you. Unbuckling his seatbelt and slamming the door shut, Jack glared at you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snapped. You felt something akin to pride; he finally had a reaction to something. Cared enough to stop you.

“You won’t answer me,” you said, eyes darting around his face. The emergency interior lights of the car blinked into existence, lighting up your bodies. Jack’s face was flushed, eyes wild. “Please, just—”

“Fuck, stop saying that,” came Jack’s strangled plead, his head dropping.

You blinked at him. Confusion welled like a storm in your eyes. “What? Please?”

Silence. Jack’s head raised lazily, he looked distressed, mouth parted ever so slightly. A hand ran through his hair, mussed it more. “Fuck,” he cursed, low and gravely. “Luke is going to kill me.”

What was he on about? He looked like he was struggling, his hand gripping the steering wheel which such force his knuckles blanched. “What?”

“You’re his best friend,” Jack said. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. “If I… Bells, please…”

You had no idea what to do. What to say. “Jack, what do you mean? You aren’t making any sense.”

“I want to fuck you,” he bit out, leveling you with a furious look, as if he hated himself for that very fact. “But I can’t. If Luke found out, he’d hate you, or me, or us both. I can’t risk that, Bells, I can’t.”

He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than you. The very fact that he wanted to sleep with you sent you into a dizzy spell; normally, you would’ve wept with happiness at the sheer fact that Jack Hughes wanted you, in any capacity, but all you felt now was a resounding emptiness. He wanted to fuck you, to have you carnally, without anything attached. You loved him; not because he could give you brief pleasure, but because you knew how many freckles were on his back, how he drove with his left hand predominantly, how he quoted Camus but never actually read him.

It occurred to you then that this summer was different. Not because you were getting closure, or because Jack Hughes finally loved you back, but because you finally understood that the devotion you’d put in him for years should have been put in yourself.

You looked at Jack, and for once, didn’t feel that biting desire to touch him, to be wanted by him; now you knew you were, but for what? For once night, just to fade into obscurity? Either you had Jack entirely or not at all. You couldn’t tease yourself with a taste only to never be given the full experience. You didn’t think you’d survive the memory of it.

“I love you,” you said. Watched his reaction. The confession felt like the greatest heartbreak and the biggest relief.

He said nothing back.

And you weren’t heartbroken that he didn’t. You were relieved. Free.

#jack hughes #nj devils #nhl smut #nhl #hockey imagine #hockey smut #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes x reader #luke hughes #quinn hughes #jack hughes smut #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey

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mockerycrow · 9 months

Text

Frozen Fingertips [2/2] (Ghost x GN!Reader)

ghost masterlist - part one

Summary: Ghost struggles to keep you alive through these harsh times.

A/N: I’m so glad you guys enjoyed part one!! i did not shrink the font of this one because i realized that it may strain some peoples’ eyes. this is not as angsty as i wished it to be, and it isn’t as long as i hoped. i apologize. tbh i don’t like this, but i hope y’all enjoy

[WARNINGS: Descriptions of developing hypothermia and frost bite, delirium, near-death experience(s), angst to fluff.]

THE BLIZZARD WAS not stopping and it didn’t show signs of stopping any time soon, which honestly terrifies Ghost because of your awful condition. Despite his previous efforts, you quickly slipped back into a delirious state of developing hypothermia—a state you weren’t completely aware of, but you knew something was wrong. You could vaguely acknowledge the way that you were fading in and out wasn’t normal, but it wasn’t like you could do anything about it. What you hated was the painful tingling and the weird.. harsh cold entering your lungs every time you took a deep breath. You’re so warm, yet your lungs burn cold.

You only saw times in glimpses—what you thought was likely a matter of hours, expanded across a matter of a few days. The harsh blizzard was unwavering, it’s snow falling from the sky harshly messing with the radio signals. Ghost would sit by the window with his personal radio on his vest, along with the emergency signal radio he had stowed in his pack. He would get small glimpses of other peoples voices—Price’s would come through occasionally, luckily long enough for Ghost to update him about their situation and their whereabouts, your condition; but Ghost was never able to provide an update about an exact location. The windows were frosted over and even when they weren’t, all Ghost saw was endless snow and pine trees far as the eye can see, until they eventually faded from view due to the snow coverage. Every time Ghost suddenly becomes aware of his breath, he can’t help but glance over at you; wrapped up in two sleeping bags, sitting way too close to the fireplace—sometimes shuddering, and sometimes.. not moving at all. His heart drops to his stomach when he doesn’t see your breath in the air. He calls your name loudly, firm and demanding and when you don’t answer, he scrambles from his position by the window. “Fuck,” He utters. “Fuck!”

Ghost ignores the pain in his knees when they harshly bash against the ground as he kneels next to you. He grabs your face by your cheeks, startled by the hue of blue on your lips. “Bloody bell—wake up!” Ghost snarls, somehow managing to keep his voice steady. He holds his breath until he sees your chest slowly yet shakily rise—and then you exhale very slowly, and clearly with amounts of trouble. Relief floods Ghost’s veins, but it’s quickly replaced by frustration and panic. You gasp quietly before you begin to shiver uncontrollably again, and taking Ghost completely by surprise; you open your eyes. Your eyes are glazed over, your eyelids puffy. “[Name]?” Ghost questions, his eyes staring hard into yours, silently noting your dialed pupils. “[Name], can you hear me?” If you do, you don’t make coherent indication. Your tongue darts out and wets your lips before you croak out, “I gotta pee.” Ghost huffs and shakes his head, his hand shooting up and laying on your chest—which is covered by many thicker layers, so disregarding Ghost’s hand, it’s not very likely you could’ve gotten up without help, anyway. “You went an hour ago, yeah? You need to stay layin’ down.” You groan and despite your arms being tucked into your multiple covers, something moves against the fabric as if to swat Ghost’s hand away. Ghost can’t help but swallow nervously; he isn’t stupid, he’s aware you’re in one of the stages of hypothermia, he told Price as much. He’s been able to keep the frostbite at bay, but he’s running out of firewood. It’s snowing way too damn hard for him to even pick up stray logs and sticks laying around. Your slowed heartrate, increased urge to urinate, slow cognitive functions, slurred speech, cold skin—blue lips..

It’s not looking good and Ghost doesn’t want to think about that, but that’s all he can see of you right now, so how could he not? And it’s hard both mentally and physically to stay in this cabin, seeing you deteriorate while he himself is getting absolutely fucking freezing. Ghost has had to shed a layer or two just to keep you alive. He can’t deny the way the cold air is scratching at his skin, seeping through his balaclava and into his jaw, nearly making his bones hurt. Ghost clenches his teeth as he shudders for a moment, eyes fluttering closed just long enough to gain his composure. Fuck. Ghost doesn’t want to die here. He doesn’t want you to die here, not like this. Not in a run-down abandoned cabin with shitty insulation, where frostbite is nipping at your fingers and where the cold is finally getting to Ghost’s head. He grits his teeth and sits back on his ass normally with a gloved hand to his head, his vision absolutely swimming. “Stop it,” He grunts quietly. “Hafta stay up.” Ghost takes a deep breath and grunts as he pushes himself to his feet, his boots booming against the wooden floor as he walks over to the area where the firewood is kept. He grabs a few of the pre-cut logs and he makes his way over to you and the fireplace, tossing the logs into the ashes, slowly refueling the dying embers. Ghost sniffles a little under his mask as he grabs a piece of paper and takes out a lighter, lighting it on fire before quickly tossing it into the fireplace to make a better fuel source. He crouches near the growing fire, taking his spot by your feet. Ghost sucks in a shuddering breath and rubs his upper arms, and he can’t help but take another glance at you. You stopped trying to get out of your warm enclosure of blankets, but your eyes were darting around the room slowly, unfocused and hazy.

Ghost’s chest clenches for a moment and he walks back over to your shivering form, and he already did it, but he presses his fingers against your lukewarm skin—nearly cold. Your eyes flutter again and then they vaguely glance in the direction that you think he’s in; which you’re almost right, but a few inches off. You try to speak but a quiet choked noise leaves you, your breathing shaky—finally from fear this time. Ghost puts his finger to his mask in a shushing motion, trying his best to keep you calm. “You’ll be alright, yeah? Gotta wait until the storm’s done brewing out there.” He attempts to reassure your delirious brain, but you can only make another “out of it” noise before your eyes flutter shut once again, you losing consciousness. Ghost feels an ugly and dreadful feeling deep in his gut, scratching at his veins, climbing them until his fingertips are cold both due to the temperature and panic. Ghost has always insisted he doesn’t panic, and he hasn’t—until now. Not until he fears the storm won’t pass over and help won’t arrive until you’re frozen and stiff under your fear, despite his desperate attempts to keep you warm—and alive. Ghost doesn’t want to admit it, but fuck, he’s terrified to fall asleep because out of the two of you, what if he’s the only one who wakes up?

Ghost’s eyelids flutter for a moment before he inhales in a sharp manner and his spine straightens up, his hands clenching together for a moment. “M’not going to fall asleep.” He mutters to himself as he takes his place next to you on the floor and holy hell, the floor is cold—so he silently scoots closer to you and wraps an arm around your body, and Ghost uses his other arm as a pillow. Your chest very slowly rises and falls, and he finds comfort in the sight of a sign of you being alive—you’re still here with him, and that’s all he needs.

Ghost is awoken from a banging on the cabin door. He jolts ever so slightly, but he’s immediately hit with chills, his limbs trembling. Fuck, he fell asleep. His eyelids feel like sandbags and and he can’t stop fucking shaking—and he feels so heavy.. so tired. “Ghost!” A familiar voice yells outside of the cabin. His arm wraps around your form tighter when he doesn’t immediately recognize the British accent behind the door, he grunts as he clumsily sits up and pulls you closer, his trembling hand grasping as his hip, taking out his service pistol. The door opens as he attempts to aim it, his weak and low voice hissing out, “I’ll blow your fuckin’ brains out—“

“Ghost, it’s Price. We found you. Put the gun down.”

Ghost blinks slowly as he looks at the figure who slowly approaches, two others trailing behind—and it is Price—with Gaz and Soap. Ghost sharply inhaled and his arm lowers, the pistol slipping out of his grip. Gaz rushes over to him and your limp form, taking off his gloves. “We got you, Ghost. We got you.” Price assures, but his lips are pressed together as he watches Gaz. Ghost’s head rolls back for a moment, blacking out for a few seconds—Soap’s hands catching his head before it hits the floor. “They’re alive,” Gaz grunts out, leaning down to pick you up bridal style while keeping all of the layers around your body. “Barely, but we gotta get ‘em both to warmth. Now.”

When Ghost finally comes to, the first thing he notices is the smell—it doesn’t smell like rotting and burning wood; his lungs don’t burn with every breath and he can keep his fingers. The second thing he notices is the ache within his throat and his limbs, and the third thing he notices is that he is not wearing his mask. He still feels heavy, but it’s not the kind of heavy where you want to sleep forever heavy. It’s a.. comforting heavy. Someone laying on top of him heavy. It takes him a hot second to open his eyes, and another second to adjust to the harsh lights of the hospital room—oh, wait, they’re not that bad, his head just hurts. Ghost notices someone laying their head on the bed on top of Ghost, their arms under their head as a cushion. He blinks blearily as he doesn’t register it at first; the hospital gown, two IV drips for two separate patients, and the bandages covering your fingers—it’s you. His eyes widen and he lets out a quiet noise, causing you to lift your head up immediately and look at him with the most vulnerable look you could ever have, your eyes wide and bulging like when a child doesn’t know whether to believe the adult in front of them. “Ghost?” You ask, and fuck, your throat croaks. Your vocal cords sound like they’ve been torn apart and reattached, croaking with relief and pain. He swallows thickly and he nods for a moment, unable to find his voice. Your eyes soften for a moment before you whisper to him. “Hurts to talk, huh? Me too.”

Then don’t, said his silent gaze. Yet, somehow, you manage to catch on his memo. Wordlessly, you reach up to one of his hands—covered in scars and calluses, but you don’t mind. Your hands are similar as you nervously glance at him, grabbing his wrist and turning it over so his palm faces up. Ghost eyes your movements, but makes no move to stop you. You take one of your pointer fingers—the one that isn’t bandaged—and you trace letters into his hand slowly.

T H A N K Y O U

Ghost meets your gaze, and you have tears in your eyes. His hand is grossly limp as he grabs the hand you were moving away, and he instead pulls your hand closer to his face for a closer inspection. The bandages concern him, so he looks at you again. You reach for the clipboard you left by his feet and you place it in his lap, pointing to the part of the medical report about your frostbite blisters. Ghost inhales deeply for a moment before his fingers tap against your hand—rhythmically? Oh, it’s morse code.

Ghost is tapping SAFE over and over while looking at you, to reassure himself—and you. You nod in response and offer him the smile he’s been waiting to see and you tap back to him, SAFE.

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steddiecameraroll · 5 months

Text

both POVs on ao3

Eddie comes to a skidded stop outside the sailor themed ice cream shop. His Sam Goody bag slams into his shin from the sudden movement.

“Ow, shit.” He winces but tries to ignore the pointed pain from the corner of one of his brand new tapes poking his leg, and stares ahead at what he imagines must be an illusion.

Steve The Hair Harrington has his arm deep into some chocolate looking concoction, and suddenly Eddie wants to taste it. He’s not even much of an ice cream guy but this he cannot pass up.

Like a siren’s song, the little polyester shorts the sailor man is wearing calls to Eddie. He wonders if he could slide both of his hands up through the bottom of the legs.

Eddie steps into the bright lights and his ears fill with some ridiculous theme music. He wonders if Steve has ever tried to disembowel the sound system. Eddie would help him if he wanted assistance.

“Ahoy there!”

Eddie stands back watching Steve interact with a group of old classmates. He recognizes the young women from a couple of his classes last semester. Steve’s clearly flirting with them and missing by a mile.

Eddie hates to admit, even to himself, watching Steve fumble brings a smidge of joy to his heart. He may not be delusional and think that means he has a chance with Steve, but it does give him some kind of weird twinkle of hope anyway.

Right after the gaggle of women walk away, Eddie sees Steve lower his head and bang it gently on the countertop causing his adorable little hat to slip from his head.

“Buck up sailor boy,” Eddie grabs Steve’s hat and spins it around his finger.

Steve jolts and stands up, gawking at Eddie. “Munson? What are you…that’s my hat.” Steve snatches the regulated uniform accessory from Eddie’s finger and clutches it in his hand.

Eddie lets his eyes drag down the part of Steve’s body not hidden by the countertop, before flicking back to Steve’s face.

“Love the outfit, by the way. Really finishes off the whole ambiance.” Eddie wiggles his fingers around the space emphasizing the environment.

“I know it’s ridiculous, dude. You don’t have to rub it in.” Steve puts his hand on his hip and cocks his weight onto the opposite foot.

“Oh no, you misconstrue, my good man.” Eddie leans further into his hands coming closer to Steve’s face. “If I’m rubbing anything, it wouldn’t be your uniform.”

Eddie enjoys watching a beautiful blush rush up Steve’s neck onto his cheeks, before he diverts his attention onto the display case of flavors, giving Steve a moment to collect himself.

“What do you recommend?” Eddie runs his fingertip lazily across the glass.

“Um…” Steve takes a quick breath before putting on his customer service smile. “The USS Butterscotch is a favorite or the cherry’s jubilee. What do you usually get when you eat ice cream?”

“Wanna know a secret?” Eddie playfully whispers while leaning over the case.

“Um, ok.” Steve leans in closer.

“I’m more of a salty treat kinda man,” he winks, surprising himself with the weird level of confidence he’s slipped into.

Steve furrows his brows before leaning away and nervously scratching the back of his neck. He tries to chuckle in response as if understanding what Eddie’s implying but Eddie can tell Steve has no idea what he’s talking about.

“Well, then maybe-um-a parfait? Peanut butter? Or nuts…something with nuts?”

Eddie bites on his bottom lip trying to stifle a childish giggle keeping his eyes on the naive, adorable, sailor man. When Steve’s words finally register in his brain he awkwardly swallows hard, and shuffles on his feet trying to busy himself with something behind the counter.

“I could go for some nuts.” Eddie leans on his arms over the case. “What kinda nuts do you have, Stevie?”

“Um, just- y’know- normal ones. What kind do you like?” Eddie tracks the slow swipe of Steve’s tongue across his bottom lip.

Eddie lowers his voice before responding. “I’m sure I’d like anything you give me, captain.”

“Jesus,” Steve quietly huffs. “Uh, how about our peanut butter brickle topped with our candied almonds?”

Eddie keeps his eyes on Steve tracking his awkward movements behind the counter. Steve spins his scooper mindlessly in his palm, trying to channel his nervous energy.

“Sounds delicious. I’ll have one of those. Is there a show or anything I get with my treat?”

“A show?” Steve asks while grabbing a parfait cup from the stack on the countertop.

“Was just curious if there’s some kind of song or dance you have to perform in this adorable little outfit. Y’know, like that one restaurant in Chicago, Ed Debevic’s?”

Steve scrunches his nose and slides open the glass case. “I don’t know what that is.”

“Really? It’s this 50’s diner place where the staff are dicks. Nothing? Really?”

Steve shakes his head while reaching his arm deep into the ice cream tub. Eddie lowers his face to watch Steve through the glass. He wonders how sticky Steve is at the end of a shift.

“Is there a shower back there?”

“What?”

"In the back. Was just curious if you go home sticky or not."

"Um...no, I mean yes I'm generally pretty sticky at the end of my shift, but there's no shower...in the back. There's not really anything back there. Only a table and some safety posters, a white board that Robin shames me with." He trails off and Eddie wishes he could see this white board.

"Shames you? Robin...?" He has a hunch but isn't sure.

"Buckley? From school."

"Yeaaahhh, that's what I thought. Good for her." He means it.

Steve scrunches his face while finishing off the disgustingly sweet display of tasty deliciousness.

“Anything else I can get for you?” Steve gives Eddie his best customer service smile while setting the ice cream on top of the case.

A wicked grin spreads across Eddie’s face. “Naw I’m good. Unless… there’s something available that’s not on the menu.”

Eddie knows Steve is naive. Has never once picked up on his blatant flirting over the years, or at least doesn’t let it rattle him. But this utter display of fantasy is rotting away at Eddie’s resolve, and he’s seconds away from asking to suck on Steve’s sticky fingers.

He leans in front of the register and looks up at Steve through his eyelashes.

Pretty pretty boy.

“Um,” Steve looks around the empty restaurant, and then glances at something over Eddie’s head before turning his attention back. “Y-yeah, there is actually.”

Eddie thinks maybe he’s about to choke on his tongue as he attempts to swallow, waiting for Steve to continue.

“It’s in the back. Um, in the-in the break room. Wanna see it? Maybe?”

The fluorescent lighting above makes the beautiful shade of pink Steve’s cheeks are, into a warm glow. Eddie thinks he might be hearing angels sing or maybe it’s the dumb sailor music, but whatever it is it’s definitely music to his ears.

“Yeeaaah, definitely need to see it. Maybe wanna taste it even.”

Steve’s mouth is parted prettily, making Eddie wonder if his own tongue could slide between them easily.

Steve nods and bites down on his bottom lip, while motioning Eddie to follow around the opening of the countertop.

“Cool, very cool.” Steve walks backwards keeping his eyes on Eddie.

When Eddie steps behind the counter, taking in the entire outfit, he can’t control the subtle groan that emanates from his chest.

He’s gonna fuck this sailor silly.

They reappear 17 min later to a puddle of melted peanut butter brickle, an annoyed Erica Sinclair, and a better understanding of Eddie’s love of nuts.

Steve’s POV now both POVs on ao3

coffee? ☕️🍩💕

#eluding to a bj #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steddiecameraroll posts #my writing

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lovebugism · 6 months

Note

hey honey can i request a shy!reader x grumpy!eddie , maybe they’re pumpkin picking with friends & something angsty ensues but then fluffy & after they all go eat at the diner and get spooky themed orders 🤭

thanks for requesting lovie! — eddie gets grumpy on a fall outing with the gang (shy!reader, established relationship, hurt/comfort, 1.3k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie’s a big ol’ grump at Eugene’s Pumpkin Patch, but he’s being really brave about it. He follows you like a puppy, visibly unamused about the whole thing but trying hard to be a good boyfriend despite his woe.

“Ah! Look at this one!” you gasp at the sight of a pumpkin, in a sea of bright orange pumpkins.

Swallowed whole by your sweater, you crouch in the tall grass and reach for the tiny round thing hidden in it. The runt pumpkin sits neatly in your palms. “It’s so wittle,” you singsong up at Eddie in a tiny, high-pitched voice.

He smiles despite himself, laughing even though he’s grumpy, ‘cause you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“I’m gonna get this one,” you announce affirmatively when you rise to full height again.

“You made me drive an hour out just to get the tiniest pumpkin they have?” Eddie asks, laughing still but with a subtle bite of annoyance.

You try to ignore it, though the weight of his aggravation makes you writhe. “But it’s cute…” you defend with a weak shrug. “And also, you have to get one, remember?”

You take a tentative step towards Eddie, standing chest to chest. He huffs and puts his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. His chocolate eyes flit around the expansive farm, dull and unimpressed. “They all look the same, so… I don’t think it really matters.”

“It does matter!” you insist, girlish and quiet and stubborn. “You have to pick the one you like the most— that’s the whole point!”

“You’re telling me there’s an art to pumpkin picking?” the boy teases with a crooked grin, tilting his head to the side so his curls bunch at his shoulder.

Still clutching the tiniest pumpkin either of you have ever seen, you nod. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

He scoffs again in a curt laugh. He looks around again, only to point to the one sitting by his feet.

“Alright… How about that one?”

“Eddie!”

“What?” he whines in the same pouty tone as you.

“Can you at least pretend you’re having fun?” you murmur, a bit sad you have to even ask.

You always spiral when he gets weird, secretly terrified that it’s all your fault. He doesn’t talk, so you overthink. Your brain gets mean, and you need Eddie to make you feel better — but he can’t because he’s weird. It’s unbearable. For both of you.

“It’s cold and rainy and Steve’s pants gave me a headache on the way over and I don’t feel good, okay? I’m sorry,” Eddie rambles with a pout, looking visibly pained about all of it.

Any excitement you had left leaves you like an ebbing tide. “Okay,” you mutter with a soft nod.

“I’m gonna go smoke,” the boy announces.

He smacks a fleeting kiss to your cheek before he goes but doesn’t bother to invite you to come with him. He doesn’t feel very deserving of your company right now, too selfish in his woe and painfully self-aware about it.

You stand in place while he walks back to the van, feeling utterly alone and unwanted.

“Where’d Eddie go?” Steve wonders when he walks up to you with Robin at his side.

They carry two pumpkins each, struggling with each of them because they’ve somehow managed to find the biggest ones on the whole farm. You figure they made a bet about it because everything’s a competition with them.

“Um… to smoke, I think,” you answer shyly, embarrassed to have been found alone for a reason you can’t name. “He just kinda… left.”

Robin scoffs. “I think he’s on his period,” she jokes with a gritty laugh.

“Yeah. He said my pants looked stupid before we left. I knew something was up.”

The brunette girl side-eyes the boy beside her. “I think he might’ve been right about that one, Stevie.”

You make a quiet exit when they begin to bicker back and forth. You duck through the bustling pumpkin patch and try not to trip in the tall grass on your way to Eddie’s van.

Your boots crunch over the gravel of the parking lot. You find him leaning against the trunk, blowing out smoke from his pink mouth, slouching like he’s weighed down by his own sadness.

“You okay, Eds?” you ask to announce your arrival.

His eyes widen when he realizes you’re there. He’d pretend to be fine if it didn’t take all the energy he had left. “No,” he answers honestly, then quickly corrects, “I mean— I am, but… I feel bad. I was acting like a dick…”

“Yeah,” you concur with a nod. “You were.”

He’s too shocked to hide it on his face. You’re never normally so confrontational. You’re usually too quiet for that, too soft. And you still are now, because you always are, but he feels like he deserves to see this sterner side of you.

“But it’s okay. I know you didn’t wanna come in the first place.”

He turns on his shoulder when you stand at his side, towering over you as he flicks the butt of his cigarette. “Yeah, but… I didn’t have to be such an asshole to you about it. I feel like I fuckin’ ruined this whole day, you know?”

“We all have our moments, Eds. It’s no big deal,” you assure with a weak shrug and a stronger smile. “We still have the whole afternoon left— you didn’t ruin anything. Doesn’t make me love you any less, either.”

Your words make him grin. Like, really grin — all wide and rosy and boyish. You make him smile like nothing’s ever hurt him. Like nothing’s ever been wrong in his life. Fuck, he’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.

“I love the shit outta you, you know that?” he mumbles but doesn’t give you a chance to answer. He tosses the cigarette to the ground and snuffs it out with his sneaker right before kissing you absolutely stupid.

He wraps his arms around your neck, smothering your face with his. No one’s ever been kissed as hard as he’s kissing you now. The realization makes you smile too wide to kiss him back.

He pulls away from you with a hearty smack. With pinker lips and chocolate eyes, he grins hopefully down at you. “So you’re not mad at me?” he wonders, gentle like a child.

“Yes,” you nod, playfully firm. “I’m very mad, actually.”

Eddie’s smile widens. He knows you’re joking and decides to lean into it. “What can I do then, huh?” he murmurs lowly to you, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “How can I make it up to you?”

He wants to kiss you again. He wants to get you in the back of his van in a vacant parking lot. He wants you to tell him to make you feel good and not to stop until you’re pushing him away.

You know all of this, ‘cause you can practically read his mind, so you decide to drive him crazier. “I want you…” you start in the same low tone, bordering on sultry.

Eddie’s already nodding.

You smile and continue.

“…To go pick your most favorite pumpkin in the whole patch, and then take me to Benny’s Burgers.”

Feeling slightly disappointed and utterly teased, Eddie searches the entire patch and finds the weirdest-shaped, wartiest pumpkin the earth has ever grown. He drives the gang to the diner after and sits you in his lap when all of you squeeze into one booth.

He shares his milkshake with you and lets you have the pickle slice that comes with his burger when you ask for it (‘cause everyone knows it’s the best part). It’s the purest form of love, if he has anything to say about it.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

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ickadori · 5 months

Note

OMG I love you mean reader au, I have a question!!

¿Does the reader ever makes Yuuji jealous on purpose? Maybe with someone they don't see as often because everyone close knows Yuujis girl backs and also bites , so I can see her doing it with maybe someone from Kyoto.

I feel Yuuji is the kind to let it pass or act oblivious cuz he knows I would piss her off but when they are on private he let's her know that playing stupid games lead you to win stupid prices.

Anyways as you can see I'm super super invested in you au, you are an amazing writer❤️

[cws] fem reader. i named the kyoto student ryo. sukuna takes over at the end. anal at the end. overstimulation. half a sprinkle of impact play -> like 2 spanks.

You’re always so dismissive to everyone, especially to those who aren’t in your inner circle. If you don’t interact with them on a daily basis, you couldn’t care less to hear what they have to say, and it’s not an unusual sight to see you rudely walk away mid conversation.

The same could be said for the Kyoto students.

You weren’t friendly with any of them, and had even ended up on bad terms with a few due to your nature. Yuji had been sure he was going to have to intervene in at least five times with the same person in order to keep the peace during their impromptu visit, but to his surprise, to everyone’s surprise, you had been on your best behavior.

You had greeted everyone, albeit with an annoyed ‘hey’ followed by a roll of your eyes, but that was leagues better than what you had done last year! When Todo had intruded on you and Yuji’s conversation, you hadn’t tried to smash Maki’s cursed tool against his head like you usually do, but had rather pursed your lips and excused yourself from the conversation, leaving him to listen to tales about Takada and other nonsensical things.

All in all, the day was going alright. You hadn’t gotten into a heated argument with anyone, nor had he sensed any spikes in cursed energy for the last hour or so that you had been out of his sight. Deciding that he’d just about enough of Todo droning on and on about the feeling of Takada’s hand in his own, Yuji begins to plot his escape.”

“It was a riveting—”

“You heard that?” Yuji cuts Todo off, eyebrows furrowed as he cups his hand to his ear. “I think that’s my girlfriend screaming in agonizing pain—gotta go.” He jogs away, ignoring the call of his name, and snickers to himself as he rounds the corner, one hand slipping into his pocket to retrieve his phone.

Just where are you, he thinks to himself as he scrolls to your contact, a smile breaking out onto his face at the sight of your contact picture. It showcased you giving him an annoyed look, face scrunched up cutely as you had your hand raised, a failed attempt to block your face from the camera. He shoots you a quick text asking where you are, followed by a barrage of heart emojis and kiss emojis, and he stops in front of the vending machine as he waits for your reply, deciding to buy himself and you a drink.

He’s halfway through his soda when you suddenly come rounding the corner, and he smiles as he pockets his phone, only for his smile to falter a bit when he notices that you’re smiling too, at someone that isn’t him—which isn’t a problem in and of itself! Yuji isn’t some crazy jealous guy, but it’s weird to see you look so… jolly. Who are you talking to?

A second person comes around the corner, and his face sours as he recognizes it as Kyoto’s newest 3rd year, Ryo. Yuji tries to be friendly with everyone, but he written the man off from the moment he saw him, not liking the way his eyes had raked you up and down while you had standing right beside Yuji—what was he, blind? It had been so obvious the two of you were together, what with the way Yuji had been trying to fuse your mouths together.

“Yuji,” you call, eyes crinkling as you grab ahold of Ryo’s wrist and pulls him over. Yuji takes another sip of his soda, cursing to himself when he feels Sukuna start to stir inside him. “You remember Ryo, right?”

It’s a tease—he knows it is. He had spent the better half of an hour that day complaining to you about him, while Sukuna had laughed and suggested he ‘pluck his fucking eyes out next time, brat, problem solved’, which he would never do, obviously, but the idea was a bit enticing…especially now, as Yuji is forced to watch the way Ryo takes in your ass when you stretch up to place a kiss on his cheek while you take your drink from his hand.

“He says he’s been thinking about transferring here, right?” You direct your attention to Ryo as you spin around, his eyes darting up to your face, and Yuji can’t keep his clear annoyance off his face.

“Right. I’m really liking the vibe here for some reason.” He grins, and Yuji nearly drags you away in response.

“Hm. Wonder why that is?” You giggle, fucking giggle, and an anger that’s part his own and part his curse’s begins to fester in his gut. Yuji sees the two of you stiffen, no doubt due to Sukuna’s sudden spike in energy, and he gathers the back of your shirt in his hand, the veins along the back of his hand protruding as he tugs you back into him. “Y… Yuji?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” His chin hovers over your shoulder as he stares Ryo down, and something must show in his eyes then, because Ryo is flinching back and stuttering over his words as he takes slow steps back. “Did you want Sukuna?”

“No.” You hastily reply, and the bottle in your hand crinkles as your grip on it tightens.

“‘S that because you think I’m gonna go easy on you?”

“…”

“Because I’m not.”

The unmistakable ‘plap plap’ of Yuji’s hips snapping into your own is loud in the confined space, and you lift a shaky hand, intending on using it to push at his stomach. It’s snatched and pushed down against your chest before you can even fully raise it, and your mouth opens on a silent cry when he slams his cock into you.

“Yu—!”

He grunts, the hand that had been holding him above you moving to cover your mouth, leaving him no choice but to crush you with his weight. “Don’t -shit- call my name.” He rasps, beads of sweat rolling down the slope of his nose just as he rolls his hips into your, pelvis grinding down against your clit with every movement.

You’re sensitive, sore, and every touch, every stroke, sends a pleasurable pain zapping through your body. You don’t know how many times you’ve come, or how long it’s been since Yuji practically dragged you into a supply closet and got you down on your back, with Sukuna goading him on the entire time.

‘You gonna finally put her in her place, brat?’

‘Y’know she’s gonna do it again unless you punish her.’

‘Look how she was smiling. She did it on purpose. You’re too soft on her - let me deal with it.’

‘What’re you doing, idiot? Get your mouth off her cunt. Is this a fucking reward or a punishment?’

‘Slap her around—shut up, girl. Do it. She likes it, see? Look at the mess she’s making on our cock.’

A particularly hard thrust has your eyes rolling and your toes curling in your loafers, and your mouth falls open when he brushes against that spot, eyebrows pulling together as a fresh bout of tears spring to your eyes.

“You crying now?” Sukuna snarks, and Yuji falters, his eyes popping open from where they had been squeezed shut to look at your face. “Don’t fucking stop, she’s fine, she’s—”

“Yuji.”

“Sweet girl,” he answers, hands moving to cup the sides of your face. “Don’t cry - are you sensitive?” You weakly nod, cunt fluttering as he runs his nose along your cheek. “Do you want me to be softer? Just tell…” Yuji goes slack against you, and your eyes widen, hands moving to push at his shoulders, only for them to tense under your grip as a low laugh leaves him.

“Sukuna,” it comes out in a pitiful whine, and you wince at the slow drag of his cock along your walls as he pulls out, thick shaft sliding up between your folds as he bumps the head against your clit.

“It’s been a while,” his head pulls back, allowing you to see the grin stretched across his face, and you drop your gaze as you keep your mouth, earning another laugh. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared.” His touch is rough as he grips at your sides, nails biting into your skin, and you gasp when he’s suddenly flipping you over, one hand leaving your waist to smack at your ass. “Do it how I like it.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you shuffle so you’re up on your knees, butt lifted into the air while your chest is flush to the floor. Sukuna smacks you again, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, and you can’t help the moan that slips out when he spreads you open, his hips jutting forward so he can rut his cock against your cunt, a jolt racing up your spine when he goes over your clit.

“Ah, poor pussy is sensitive, yeah?” His tone is mocking, but you nod nonetheless. “Hm.” He pops the tip into your hole, fucking it in just a bit before pulling it back out to continue what he was doing. “Guess we’ve gotta pick another hole then, don’t we?”

“Suku—ah!” His hand reaches underneath you to deliver a swift slap to your cunt, fingers catching your clit, and you let out a pitiful little whimper.

“Quiet.” He spreads you open further, and a shaky breath leaves you when a glob of split lands on your puckered hole, his thumb spreading the wetness around before slowly pushing it in. “Only the good little girls get to speak.”

His cockhead replaces his thumb, and your breath comes out in pants as he eases himself in, stretching you impossibly wide as he forces himself to fit.

“I hope you’re watching, brat — no worries if you aren’t, I don’t mind repeating the lesson later.”

#yuji x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #++ yuji/brat

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 3 months

Text

Sex pollen!Bucky Barnes one shot

What a weird night. Another mission blowing up an old Hydra base, ransacking it for information before the explosion. You and Bucky had been scouring emptied shelves and desks. All computers and hard drives had already been wiped clean. As you explored you found a lone flower in a pot, sitting in the middle of an exam table in an abandoned lab.

“What is this?” you wondered out loud, walking closer to the flower but not daring to touch it. It looked otherworldly, a color that you could only describe as indigo with iridescent anthers that seemed to glow as you came closer. You took a picture and sent it to headquarters. A video call quickly came back within seconds of you sending the picture.

“Hey Shuri, what am I looking at?” you asked.

“DON’T TOUCH IT! GET AWAY FROM IT!” she yelled, her eyes bulging through the screen. You quickly stepped back, staring at it in fear.

“What the hell is going on? What is it?”

“We don’t have a name for it here on earth, the only way I can describe it is an alien aphrodisiac. The anthers on it will shoot out a dust that will make the one who breathes it extremely aroused to the point that if they don’t…copulate quickly it could cause dangerously high heart palpitations, abdominal pain, even psychotic breaks. It can severely hurt or even kill you.”

“An alien aphrodisiac?” you asked dumbly, staring at the flower again. It was beautiful, and you could feel a strange pull to go up to it and desire to touch it. Thankfully you had some sense of self-preservation. “Okay, what do we do with it?”

“Just get out of there and blow the place. The explosion should be enough to kill the plant. I don’t know how Hydra was able to get one, but there’s a reason they left it behind.”

“Jesus, okay, we’re on it. I’ll report back soon,” you ended the call then tried to get hold of Bucky. “Buck, can you hear me?” you said, hitting the earbud in your ear. Nothing. You left the room, walking down the corridor to another side of the base to try to get a better signal.

“Bucky, do you read me?” you called more loudly. You heard nothing but static. “Dammit,” you grumbled. You tried your phone since you’d been able to get hold of Shuri. After two rings he answered the video call.

“Hey doll, where are you?” he asked, a strange glowing behind him. Your eyes widened at the color of the glow.

“Buck, where are you?”

He turned, showing the lab you were just in. “This old lab, there’s this weird looking flower in here, we should probably bag it up and bring it in for testing,” he said, reaching a hand out to the flower.

“Bucky NO!” you screamed at your phone, already running back down the corridor.

It was too late. A large puff of indigo dust poofed from the flower’s anthers, surrounding Bucky and making him cough violently. By the time you reached the lab he was on his knees, dry heaving as the dust seemed to magically disappear into his skin.

“Shit,” you swore, running in and pulling him away from the flower. “We have to get out of here. Did you set all the charges?”

Bucky was unresponsive, still coughing and holding his stomach as he tripped over his feet as you dragged him out of the room. You grunted as you pulled him along back down the corridor, his arm hung over your shoulder.

“Come on Buck, stay with me,” you reached a hand up and grabbed his chin to make him focus on you. “Did you set the charges?!”

“Yeah,” cough, “yeah I got it,” his arm around your shoulder seemed to tighten as he doubled over in pain, his face getting dangerously close to yours, like he was nuzzling your cheek with his nose. “What the fuck was that thing?”

“Ugh, I’ll explain once we’re out,” you ignored his close proximity, pulling him through the halls until you finally found the entrance, quickly loading yourselves into the quinjet. As you placed him into a chair and buckled him in you noticed a sheen of sweat along his hairline. You gingerly placed a hand on his forehead. He was burning up. “Shit,” you swore again. When you turned away to start the jet Bucky groaned.

“Don’t, don’t leave me,” Bucky begged, his eyes screwed shut. His metal hand was warping the arm of the chair.

“I’m right here, Buck, just gotta get us in the air,” you placate him, getting the jet moving then turning to him again. “Where’s the remote for the charges?”

Bucky shifted in his seat, reaching towards his pants pocket but fumbling as his fingers trembled. You quickly reached down and dipped your hand into his pocket. Bucky moaned loudly as you touched him so close to his cock, which you just noticed was straining against his pants. He still had the sense to look embarrassed as your eyes flashed to his face when he moaned, but you pretended like nothing happened as you took the remote and once you were a good distance away detonated the charges. A loud boom reverberated as you flew away, taking out the base and the alien flower.

As you sank into the other chair and took a breath you called Shuri again.

“Shuri, it’s done, but we have a bit of a problem,” you started when her face showed up on the screen.

“Oh please don’t say what I think you’re going to say,” she pleaded, looking worried.

“Bucky wasn’t with me when I called you, so he didn’t know to stay away from the flower, and by the time I tried calling him there was no reception so I wasn’t able to tell him before he got too close to it. It blew right in his face and now he’s–”

“Ungh!” Bucky moaned again, his flesh hand palming himself through his pants. “What is this? God, it burns everywhere!”

“Oh Bast,” Shuri swore. “What are his symptoms?”

You stood back up, walking over to Bucky as he writhed in his chair. “Sweating profusely, high temperature, abdominal pains…hey Buck, open your eyes, look at me,” you directed him. He quickly responded to your voice, his eyes looking wild as he stared at you. “Pupils are dilated, and uh, well, some major arousal from what I can see,” you finished quickly, looking away from his debauched gaze.

“Damn, and it all started immediately upon breathing in the dust?” Shuri asked quickly, her body turned towards a screen that she was typing on.

“Yes, he was choking and dry heaving on it, and it seemed to, I don’t know, seep into his skin? It was crazy,” you rushed out. You felt a tug on your shirt, looking down and seeing Bucky’s metal fingers pulling on the hem of your shirt, trying to pull you closer to him. “And now he’s trying to touch me,” you stated plainly.

Shuri sighed, turning away from the screen she was looking at. “There’s nothing else that can help him. He needs to have sex as soon as possible or else he will get worse and worse until his heart or mind gives out. And seeing how much his mind has gone through in the last 80 years, you don’t have much time,” she remarked gravely. “I’m sorry I don’t have any better answers for you. This is something that we’ve never had to deal with before.”

You sighed, feeling Bucky’s fingers grab onto your thigh and pull you closer to him. “I get it, Shuri, thanks. Just…turn off the cameras and speakers for the jet, please?”

Shuri nodded with a pitiful smile on her face. “You got it, good luck.”

You hung up your phone and set it on the other pilot chair. You glanced back at Bucky and saw him crying as his metal fingers dug into your thigh. “Oh Buck, it’s okay,” you sank down onto your knees in front of him, your fingers wiping his tears.

He sniffed hard. “No, it’s not. This isn’t okay. I didn’t want it like this, this doesn’t give either of us a choice,” he cried, his metal fingers now rubbing the back of your neck. He didn’t seem to have control over what his hands were doing as his flesh hand pushed harshly against his cock. “It’s not fair.”

You nodded, “You’re right, it’s not fair, it’s not right. But I’m not going to let you die. It’s okay,” you reached your hand up and cupped his cheek again with your palm, which he happily hung his head into. “You’re my best friend, my mission partner, and I’m not going to lose you to some alien fucking flower. I want to help you, do you hear me?”

Bucky looked in your eyes deeply, looking for any hesitation. He didn’t find it. “Buck, I want to,” you reassured him resolutely. “I want you.”

That was all he needed to hear. He ripped the seat buckle off of him and stood quickly, pulling you up harshly from the floor and towards the back of the quinjet where there were a couple of rooms for resting. He picked the one with the bigger bed and shoved you through the door. As much as this situation was dire, you were also secretly excited. The feelings you’d tamped down as a childish crush were now coming full front as you peeled your mission suit off, kicking your boots off to a corner and then helping him get out of all the buckles and straps on his outfit. Once you were both naked he wasted no time in cupping your face in his hands and kissing you. The kiss was desperate, his fingers digging into the softness of your cheeks, his lips moving against yours then biting your lower lip. You gasped and he took his opportunity to stick his tongue in your open mouth, tasting your tongue and swirling it with his. His hands quickly traveled down your body, feeling his way over each hill and valley of your curves, settling his flesh hand on your breast, tweaking the nipple making you moan, and his metal hand kneading your ass. Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Bucky picked you up and heaved the both of you onto the mattress, gently seating himself between your legs. His hard cock was nestled against your stomach, the contact making him rut against you. He grunted as you bit his lip in return, another thrust against your core making you arch your back. He slipped his flesh hand between your bodies and felt around your lower lips, feeling the slick already building up. He moaned at how wet you were for him, using some of that slick on his thumb to bring it to your clit and rub you. You arched again, your hips thrashing as he flicked your clit and rubbed you harshly.

“Gotta get you ready for me,” he murmured, looking down at you and watching as he dipped two fingers into your pussy while his thumb kept busy on your clit. The fill of his fingers made you moan loudly, your mouth dropping open and hands digging into the sheets below you. He pumped his fingers lazily, his thumb doing all the work. You could feel the orgasm coming embarrassingly quickly, your hips gyrating against his hand.

“Oh god, Buck, I’m gonna cum, ungh,” your breath hitched as he flicked harder. The snap in your core was sudden, a yelp falling from your lips as you came on his fingers. He let you ride out the orgasm and the aftershocks, pulling his fingers out gently then bringing them up to his mouth and sucking on your juices. His eyes rolled back in his head as he licked his fingers clean. The scene almost made you cum again.

“Fuck, you taste divine, doll,” he growled. “Next time I’m gonna eat you out and pull as many orgasms from you as I can with my mouth.”

“Next time?” you breathed.

Bucky nodded as he shifted his hips and gripped his cock, lining himself up with your pussy. “Yeah, next time. Been wanting you for so long, doll. Although this isn’t the way I wanted it,” he paused as he pushed in slowly, making you gasp, “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me. Jesus, you’re tight!”

Your hands gripped his biceps, fingernails digging into his flesh arm. You tried to relax as he pushed slowly, trying to let you adjust even though you could tell he was struggling to go slow. The sweat was almost pouring off him now, his pupils dilated so much that his eyes looked almost completely black, his temperature even hotter than before. You worried that if he didn’t cum soon he’d pass out. He was trying to be careful, but he didn’t need careful, he needed relief.

“Buck,” you whined, swiveling your hips. He buckled as you moved, falling to his elbows above you. “Move, please. Just use me, honey. I can take it.”

“No,” Bucky grunted, “I don’t want to use you. You deserve better.”

“I know, hun, I know, but that’s not what you need right now. I need you to take me, please,” you ran your fingers through his hair then gripped it harshly, pulling his head up to look at you. He whimpered at your rough treatment, his eyes widening. “Fuck me, Bucky. Fuck me hard.”

His eyes seemed to glaze over as they narrowed at your words. His brow furrowed with determination as he moved himself to a different position, holding up your hips and lifting your legs over his hips. “Yes, doll,” he answered through gritted teeth. He then thrust into you violently, causing you to scream. He set a punishing pace, savagely driving himself into you as he chased his high. All you could do was hold on, your fingers grasping the sheets or his arms. You could feel the building orgasm in the pit of your pelvis as he hit your g-spot over and over. As your pussy fluttered around him he suddenly twisted you around, still inside you as he flipped you to your front and rutted into you from behind. The sound of skin slapping skin and gasping breaths filled the cabin as you moaned, trying to keep your hips up as he drilled you into the mattress.

“Bucky, oh baby, yes!” you cried, tears starting to form in your eyes. The new position made him reach even further inside you, making you see stars with each thrust. Your peak kept getting higher and higher until you finally fell, screaming his name as you came around him. Bucky shuddered as you came, your pussy convulsing around his cock, making him cum with a shout. He kept thrusting into you as he pumped you full of his cum, mumbling your name repeatedly. The flower dust had made him so incredibly horny that he kept cumming more than he normally would, making a mess as it overflowed from your pussy to the mattress below.

You both stilled as you calmed down from your highs, more dribbling out of you as you tried to regain your breathing. Bucky slowly pulled out, a squelching noise coming from your pussy as you both groaned, more cum dripping from your aching hole. You fell onto the mattress, your legs periodically shaking and arms splayed above your head. Bucky laid on the mattress next to you, breathing heavily.

After a few moments you shifted to your side facing Bucky. His eyes were closed, his mouth open as he breathed, his hair matted to his forehead from all the sweating. You reached out and moved some of his wet hair from his eyes. His eyes fluttered open at the feeling of your fingers. He looked at you with shining eyes, looking thoroughly fucked. You giggled at him, and he gave you a lopsided smile back.

“You feel better?” you asked slyly.

“Yes,” he chuckled. “Thank you, doll. I’m sorry I put you in this position,” he started, moving to his side to face you as well.

“Buck, it’s okay–”

“Will you go out with me?” he asked hurriedly. You blinked as your mind caught up to what he said. He watched you carefully as you processed what was happening.

“Yeah,” you smiled softly, closing the distance between you and kissing his cheek. It was very innocent considering you were both still naked. He smiled and took your free hand in his, giving your fingers a squeeze then bringing them to his lips and gave them a kiss.

“I know it’s too early, but um, I love you,” he confessed. “I’ve loved you for a long time.”

Your smile widened, your hand squeezing his hand back. “I love you, too, Buck. Probably too much.”

Bucky recoiled, “What do you mean too much? How could you love this,” he gestured to his body, “too much?”

You doubled over in laughter, slapping his chest as you straightened out after a minute. “You’ve been hanging out with Sam too much,” you laughed, wiping your eyes.

He laughed along with you, grimacing at the sound of Sam’s name. “Please don’t say Sam’s name while you’re naked in bed with me. It just doesn’t feel right.”

You laughed again, this time trying to stifle it behind your hand. “Okay, I’m sorry…Barnes,” you teased him. His eyes narrowed at you. “Or should I call you James?” he minutely shook his head. “Okay, how about…Sergeant?” His eyes widened. “Oooh, did I find a kink?” you giggled. “How about, sir?”

Bucky pounced on you, encircling you in his arms and tickling your sides. You squirmed against him as you screamed his name.

“That’s right, doll, that’s what I want to hear. You screaming my name,” he growled in your ear as he let up on the tickling. “Just Bucky is fine.”

“Haha, okay, okay…Bucky,” you said his name sensually.

Bucky moaned, rolling his eyes. “Don’t start, or else we’re never leaving this cabin.”

“Who said I was ready to leave?” you teased him again, your fingers scratching down his chest. His hips jutted forward as you flicked his nipples lightly.

“Okay, you asked for it,” he warned.

#sex pollen #oneshot #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #smut

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emmyrosee · 2 months

Text

I found out akaashi calls Kuroo ‘Pain-in-the-ass Kuroo-San’, so here you all go

——-

“No, truly.”

“Like, he’s so cocky, for what?”

“Literally!”

“And don’t even get me started on his hair today; like good lord, did he look in a mirror?”

From around the corner, Kuroo and Bokuto listen intently, one with a small smirk, the other with worry in his eyes. You and Akaashi had been talking in between practices for the past three days, for hours on end, and it was about time the two captains called you out on it.

What they didn’t take into account, was the one and only, calm, collected Akaashi Keiji to be such a gossip.

Even Kuroo’s got to admit, it’s kinda hot to hear his insignificant other and Bokuto’s wrangler talk shit.

“Do you think they’re talking about me?” Bokuto asks, and Kuroo shakes his head in mischief.

“No, they’re talking about me, Bokuto.”

“How can you tell?”

“They’d never talk bad about you- one, they adore you, and two, Akaashi knows better than to risk putting you in a mood-“

Interrupting Kuroo’s countdown, there’s a groan from the other side of the wall, followed by an akaashi chuckle, “hey- he’s your man.”

Kuroo smirks, “number three.”

Bokuto’s worried expression turns to one of amusement, “ohhhh, you have ugly hair!” He cackles, pointing at Kuroo. Behind the corner, the two of you go quiet, and Bokuto covers his mouth. “Well good luck, Kuroo!”

“Thanks, Bokuto,” he chuckles, stretching before making his way around the corner to face you both. “Heyyy,” Kuroo sings as he walks towards you. He lowers his eyes as you shift in shock, and Akaashi merely looks up at him in challenge. “I was wondering where you two disappeared to.”

“Same place we always do,” Akaashi says flatly, taking a sip of his water. “I’m glad you’re able to use your cognitive thinking skills to find us.”

He gives Akaashi a fake, dramatic smile, before letting his body language drop back to casual. He casts you a look, “hey babe.”

“Hey love,” you mewl, resting your head against his thigh cutely, and he knows you know he heard you and Akaashi not thirty seconds ago. He smiles and gently uses a large hand to cup the back of your head, thumb gently stroking your temple.

“Whatcha talking about?” Tetsuro chirps, smiling fakely. “Got all nice and quiet when I came around the corner.”

Akaashi rolls his eyes, “talking about them potentially becoming a manager for your team. Why’re you acting weird?”

Tetsuro lets out a loud “ahh,” in understanding. “Was that before you asked if I looked into a mirror today?”

Akaashi smirks, “before, of course.”

“Right, obviously.”

You blink at him in mercy, “we were just kidding…”

“Oh, I’m sure,” tetsuro says, pinching his brows as he nods in understanding. Then, he hunches over to be closer to you, face to face.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not going to make you pay.”

You scream as he scoops you in his bulky arms and tosses you over his shoulder, ignoring your flailing limbs and laughter. “You, I’ll deal with later,” he says, locking eyes with Akaashi.

Who only gives him a smirk to rile him further, “in your dreams, Kuroo-San.”

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luveline · 1 month

Note

hi jade!!

if you’re still taking hurt/comfort requests could i request poly marauders and how they all respond to one of remus’ chronic pain flare ups/his chronic pain in general? i think you did one with reader a while ago so feel free to ignore if it feels too repetitive. i love the way you write remus and his chronic pain it means a lot to me as someone who has chronic pain too!! sometime when i have a flare up i reread all your remus fic and it makes me feel so much better ♥️

thank you lovely!! modern au, fem, 1k

“I just don’t know what to say to him,” James whispers.

You wipe the lip of the bowl, the steam that’s billowing from it fragrant with fresh chopped basil and warm on your cheeks. “You do, Jamie, you’ll just say what you always say to him.”

“I feel like he must get very tired of me, I just verbal diarrhoea at him while he’s crying.”

You give James a loving smile. “And he appreciates it, I promise. Are you gonna come in and keep us company?”

“No. I don’t know. Maybe you can have a look if he’s up for both of us and come and get me?”

James is too much a sweetheart. He’s been taking care of Remus for years and he��s still never sure if he’s doing the right thing, especially when Sirius isn’t there. You promise James you’ll come and get him as soon as Remus says it’s okay, which he most likely will, and start up the stairs with Remus’ dinner tray to the master bedroom.

Remus thankfully isn’t crying now despite a rough morning. He’s sitting against the headboard with his jaw locked and a loose neck pillow on his shoulders for support, the TV on a low volume opposite and lighting his face.

“Can I turn on the light?”

“Please.”

You flick it on. “Your soup. Did you want toast?”

“No… Thank you.” You put the tray on his lap carefully. He tips his head up, smiling weakly. “Thanks, dove.”

“You’re welcome.” You sit down at the top of the bed with him. “Can I stay?”

He’s insistent that you stay. You’ve not got much to say while he eats, his small mouthfuls a mixture of relief and wincing, but you take up station by his worst leg and run a loving hand up and down the front of it. When you’re sure he’s alright, you let your hand slide under, your finger to the soft part behind his knee and pushing downward.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” you say, beginning the familiar motions of a massage.

“I don’t think you could,” he says over the lip of his glass of water.

You turn away from him with a smile. Even poorly, he’s a wild flirt. “You’ll have to tell James he’s allowed to come and see you. He doesn’t want to be annoying.”

“I’ll shout for him.” He sighs and holds his tray on either handle. “Jamie!” he calls, sounding himself but admittedly heartbreakingly tired. “Can you come here? Please?”

James is straight up the stairs. He was probably waiting on the bottom step. “Yeah?” he asks, his irises like mint two pence pieces, his hand sliding down the door frame.

“Can you move this for me? And sit down?”

It’s as lovely an invitation from him as any when said so tenderly. James walks around to Remus opposite side, putting his tray on the wide window sill before situating himself in the mountain of blankets. It must be weird to be someone’s boyfriend but to have been their best friend for a long time before it; they fit together effortlessly in some ways and maintain a certain shyness in others. James has no problem sitting as close to Remus as he can, but he doesn’t look at him right away, not until Remus leans up to kiss James’ brown cheek.

“You’re never annoying,” Remus says.

James wraps an arm behind Remus’ back, confident though cautious not to hurt him. “If you say so,” he says sincerely.

Time slugs slowly for you all when Remus is in pain, but eventually he has to lay down, his leg twitching frantically in your hold, his nose pressed hard to James’ arm. You persuade some painkillers into him and stay at his side with his water bottle, your cheek resting on his shoulder.

You get out your phone to text Sirius. He’ll get upset if he isn’t in the know.

Hi Siri, Remus is in lots of pain, has had 600mg of ibuprofen and three co-codamol because he hasn’t had any paracetamol yet, is that okay?

Sirius texts back quickly. That’s fine, don’t give him anything else even if he asks for it, three co-codamol is one too many

Sirius again, on the way home. do we need anything from the shop ? miss you lovely

You’d smile if you weren’t worried about the boy shaking under your cheek. I miss you too, don’t worry about getting anything

Sirius does worry, you can hear the crinkle of a shopping bag when he gets home a few minutes later. “He was quick,” you say, sitting up to kiss Remus’ cheek. “He’s gonna hog you now.”

“Love you, dove.”

“I love you.”

Remus tries to savour that through the hot pain rushing all over. His pain is strange, it always has been, disobeying reason and often people’s belief. Half of it is a mystery, the other misery, and you and the boys have always believed him nonetheless. He’s never treated as childish or dramatic, only cared for, James’ endless stories and Sirius’ stern concern, and now you, his sweetheart, with all your soft touches and tone. You speak to him like he’s your favourite person on earth, voice underlain with fondness, always. And you’re selfless more often than not as you are right this moment, moving back to his leg, giving Sirius room to crawl breathlessly into bed beside him.

“Hello, gorgeous. What’s hurting tonight?” Sirius asks.

Not said to undermine him, Sirius just needs to know. He wants to fix everything.

“My back and my legs, mostly,” Remus confesses through a shiver. He’ll cry soon. No one will make him feel bad for it.

“Maybe you should try laying on your front for a bit, yeah? James can still harass you,” —Sirius brings his hand to Remus’ cheek and strokes it gently with the bends of his knuckles— “it’s less pressure on your back, is all.”

Remus feels himself calming already. It’s hard to feel hopeless when he’s well looked after.

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ktittycat · 25 days

Note

Can you do a part two of the regulus one where the massage turns scandalous??

<33 I love your writing

thank you i’m still fairly new to writing so i try my best <3

pt 1 pt 3

fingering, eating out, innocence kink

“You’re so kind, Reggie,” You say with a soft smile on my face. You and Regulus are in your dorm, sitting on the same bed. You’re in the same Hello-Kitty pajamas that Regulus knows so well. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

“Oh, of course. That’s just what friends do,” Regulus hums as he massages your thighs, liking the small whimpers coming out of your mouth. He’s hiding a smirk on his face.

“Hm…” You moan quietly. “Feels nice. I didn’t know you were so good with your hands.”

Regulus chuckles. You were just so innocent— you hadn’t even noticed how wrong that sounded. He kneads your thighs softly with his knuckles, his fingers advancing closer to your clothed cunt. But you’re too into the massage to even notice.

Your little gasps every time Regulus rubbed down on the right knot went straight to his cock, and he tried his best to hide it. He chuckled. You didn’t know why, but your stomach twisted and you seemed to feel wetter down there when Regulus would massage closer.

“Everything alright?” He asks thoughtfully. He knows full well what’s happening and your innocence makes him even harder. You nod hesitantly.

“Yeah… just feels weird,” You mumble shyly. The slytherin tilts his head. “Down there.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. He sits up. “Where exactly, darling?”

“Right here, Reggie.” You whimper and move your hand to your pelvis. He smiles and crawls over to you, still rubbing the inside of your thighs. You moan quietly at the feeling.

“You trust me, don’t you?” Regulus asks, his breath warm on your ear. You nod shyly. He grins as he slowly pulls off your shorts. He had longed to see those perfect thighs of yours again. “Merlin, you’re so beautiful.”

“Wh- What are you doing?” You bite your lip, whimpering quietly. He shushes you, throwing your shorts to the other side of your bed. He sees a wet patch on your cute, bow panties.

“You’re gonna feel real good, darling,” he says with a low voice as he begins to rub your clit through your underwear. You gasp, eyes widening at the feeling. “Mm, such a good girl.”

“Reggie!” You whimper. “Is this… Is this appropriate?”

“Baby… of course it is,” He smiles and nods. “I’m just a friend helping another friend, right?”

He moves your panties to the side, his fingers grazing your pussy. He gives your cunt a kiss, and you moan in surprise, but you don’t stop him. In fact, your legs seem to spread wider, practically inviting him in. He takes it as a sign of consent and sucks your clit. Your breath hitches and your first instinct is to grip his curly locks. He doesn’t stop, continuing to suck harshly as he forced your legs apart.

“Tastes so fucking good,” Regulus mumbles as he eats you out. His cock is threatening to pop out of his pants at this point. He relieves his pain by humping your bed. Just the thought of eating you out can get him horny.

“Regulus!” You squeal, legs kicking around. Your back arches off the bed. He abuses your pussy with his tongue. You cry out, “Don’t stop!”

He laughs meanly and licks you like he has been starved for days. He sticks a finger in you slowly, and that gets you going. Your eyes widen and you grab his wrist.

“W-Wait!” He ignores you, slurping your juices up eagerly. You let out a garbled cry.

“I could eat this pretty pussy forever,” He murmurs. He dips his tongue inside you, causing you to roll your eyes back.

“Feels like ‘m gonna pee, Reggie!” You whine, squirming around like crazy. Your face is flushed. He smirks and penetrates you with two fingers.

“Cum for me, darling,” He groans. Your thighs quiver as you climax all over his face. He grunts, cumming in his pants with you. He pulls his mouth off your clit and smiles lazily.

“Feel better?” He asks. Your pussy glistens with his saliva. You nod as you close your legs again. He kisses your neck, and then kisses you on the lips. You whimper quietly as you kiss him back.

“I feel so much better, Reggie…” You mumble. Regulus helps you clean up, and you fall asleep just a few minutes after. He kisses you on the forehead before leaving your dorm.

masterlist

#regulus black #regulus black x you #regulus black smut #regulus black x reader #james potter smut #james potter x reader #marauders fanfiction #marauders smut #marauders x you #remus lupin smut #sirius black smut #remus lupin fluff #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #perv!regulus black

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gojossocks · 1 month

Text

We can't be friends

Gojo x Reader Summary: You decided to erase Gojo from your memory.

“Who is Gojo Satoru to you?”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, before giving the doctor a tight-lipped smile. “W-we were together for 6 years.”

He’s no one important really, just the love of your life.

There has been an on-going trend all over the world— technology has upgraded enough that you can erase someone entirely out of your memory, as if they’ve never existed. If they do, it wasn’t like how you knew them.

You weren’t sure what dragged you in this clinic with all of the most important things that remind you of him. Maybe it was the way he ignored you like the plague, the way the familiarity in his eyes disappeared just earlier last week when he spoke to you so freely like you’ve never been together. It was clear that he got his memory of you erased after that incident. You were just another colleague. Perhaps, the pain in your heart is too much to handle.

You don’t remember the way to the clinic that much. It was a surprise you even got there in one piece considering you were sobbing the whole way there. So even if you aren’t entirely sure whether you’re ready to let go of Satoru, you signed the consent form anyway.

If he’s got you erased completely from your life, then what’s the point of living in hell remembering him? You didn’t want to mourn for someone alive and well.

You never really understood why he left because everything was just working out between the two of you. Satoru provided you with no explanation and packed up his things to leave you behind to your own devices. You almost wanted to back out when you started reminiscing vividly of everything you once shared with him.

You remembered falling in love with him, how it feels like the first day of spring, how his kisses taste like daylight. How he squeezes your hand three times before you part ways for a mission. How he holds you like you’re the only thing that matters in his world. How it was always you and him against the world, him making you laugh while you tended to his wounds. He would tell you that everything would be okay because he has you and only you.

The bad outweighed the good that you had forgotten that loving him and being loved with him is something that you never wanted to forget, even if your relationship with him crashed and burned. You don’t want him to be a stranger you can’t recognize anymore.

But it had already been done and everything faded into nothingness as you try to grasp with whatever you have left of him.

-.-

You have been working with Gojo for quite some time now, maybe about six years. But you’ve never directly initiated conversations with him outside work. He’s the only one you don’t know much about in Jujutsu High. Today is no different as you’re waiting with him in the clinic for your mutual friend Shoko.

“That’s a beautiful necklace you have there.” He acknowledges you for the first time since you got there. Even if you’re just a few meters away, he doesn’t talk to you. You find that a little bit weird because everyone tells you that he’s obnoxious and loud. Somehow with you, he’s always quiet.

You didn’t remember much of how you got the necklace. You figured that the reason why Gojo’s asking about it is because it matches the color of his eyes. There was a hazy memory though— you were crying, telling a doctor to ‘let me keep it, please. Just this one.’ but you didn’t think much of it. Maybe it was all a dream.

You responded with a laugh before toying with the pendant of the necklace. “Yeah, It was a gift to me.”

“Oh?” He looked at you through his glasses, his intense gaze making you feel a little nervous. “Mind telling me who?”

“I forgot.” You replied, slowly relaxing in your seat while looking around at Shoko’s clinic. He nodded at you, a small smile adorning his lips and he didn’t say anything more.

You missed the way his eyes linger on you for a moment before putting back his blindfold on or the apologetic look that Shoko gave him before he leaves.

“So, who’s Gojo Satoru to you?”

“He’s the strongest of course.”

But to him, you’re still his everything—because he didn’t really remove you from his memory. Maybe if he was braver, you’d remember him.

a/ n: part 2? :0

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo fic #gojo angst #gojo x reader angst #jjk angst #jjk fanfic

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verstappen-cult · 28 days

Note

Hello!!! First of all, I'm obsessed with your blog secondly I wanted to request something with Charles in which one of his friends pranks him with aphrodisiac chocolates, and he and the reader eat some of them 🫣 and the rest is up to you honestly you can ignore this if you want

The first thing you notice when you leave the grocery bag on the kitchen is an opened chocolate box.

Charles should’ve known better than to leave it there knowing how much you like chocolate. And you know he wouldn’t mind, so, you take one.

“Lando! For fucks sake you are not listening to me!” Charles' voice comes from his bedroom and you can hear the frustration in it.

You take the chocolate box with you as you make your way over to him.

Charles is pacing around his room, hand on his hips as he keeps yelling at Lando, who just laughs at him.

“Why is Lando making fun of you?” You ask, making your presence known. Charles turns around just in time to see you taking another chocolate into your mouth.

“What are you doing?!” Charles takes two long strides toward you and takes the box away, throwing it in the trash.

“Hey, I was eating those!”

“Oh my God, don’t tell me Y/N ate the chocolates too.” You're pretty sure Lando’s trying not to laugh while also sounding a little bit worried.

“What do you think, genius?” Charles rubs his face, defeated.

“I’m sorry, mate. I didn’t think—well, if you think about it, it’s good because now you’ll finally make a mov—”

Charles hangs up before Lando has time to finish. He throws the phone on his bed, groaning.

“If you didn’t want me eating your chocolates you could’ve just said so.” You shrug, looking at the trash.

“It’s not that,” He looks up at you and for the first time you notice that he’s sweating, face flushed. “they were special chocolates.”

“Oh,” You try not to show the disappointment in your voice. “a girl gave them to you! I’m sorry, I didn’t think about that, I just saw them and—”

“No, not that kind of special.” He’s quick to stop your mind from reeling with unwanted thoughts.

You tilt your head, not understanding what other kinds of special chocolates could be, when you feel a warmth wash over your body, and suddenly you feel like you’re wearing too many clothes.

“God, why is it so hot in here?” You take your sweater and sneakers off.

“What are you doing?” Charles sounds like he’s in pain. You see him take a few steps back, putting some distance between you two.

Charles’ hair is messy and he’s wearing that shirt you gifted him last Christmas. You never realized how good it looks on him before. Why didn’t you notice?

“I’m burning up,” You whine, grabbing your shirt to take it off. “What? It’s not like you haven’t seen me in a bra before.”

“You need to go,” He rushes to grab your clothes, but you don’t move. “I’ll leave you a glass of water—just go to your room.”

“Charles, what the hell is happening?”

He sighs, letting his head fall forward. He needs to tell you. “Lando thought it would be fun to give me special chocolates,” He can’t say the words out loud, he just can’t. You still don’t understand, so he simply looks at you and then down. You follow his gaze only to find that there’s a bulge in his pants.

You choke on your own spit, realization crossing your mind.

The air feels thick with tension and the eye contact is so intense you feel something weird pooling in the pitch of your stomach. And then there are mouths crashing against each other and hands all over your body as you fall onto the bed.

Lando definitely doesn’t need to know that he did you and Charles a favor.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x you

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greatooglymooglyyy · 1 month

Note

hey hey i really like your writing and i was wondering if you could do a matt or chris imagine where the reader passes out during a video or something and they comfort the reader after they wake up. i passed out during my lecture today in front of everyone and it was not fun so this would really help me feel better and not as embarrassed please.

Never Again (M. Sturniolo)

contains: fainting, cussing, mentions of not eating but no ED, kissing, fluff, 1k words

a/n: hi anon, i hope you are feeling better and i'm so sorry that happened to you. i kind of didn't know how to handle this request so i hope this is near what you were hoping for. love ya

“I got the rest,” I call out to the boys as I reach into the car and grab the last few bags left behind. But as I step back to lower the door, Matt comes around the corner and takes them from me anyway.

I roll my eyes at his fussiness and follow him back up the stairs. But as I near the top of the stairs, my head begins pounding and I lean on the wall for a second. We’ve been out running errands and shopping for a new weird food combinations video. Somehow with the busyness of the day and the nervousness I always feel before featuring on the Triplet’s channel, I completely forgot to eat today.

Chris peeks his head around the corner and his brow furrows with concern. “Matt,” he calls, stepping closer and extending his hand. I straighten and rush up the last few stairs, not wanting to worry them.

“What’s up?” Matt says from the kitchen, pulling a package of yogurt out of a bag. Chris still looks concerned but steps back, allowing me to go lean against the counter.

“She was-” Chris starts but I cut him off before he can get dramatic.

“I’m fine. I was just a little lightheaded.” I say with a sigh, ignoring the still constant pain in my temple. Matt flicks his eyes between mine and Chris’ for a second, clearly not liking what he sees, and comes over to me.

“If you don’t feel good, we can do this another day. It’s not a big deal.”

“Well no we can’t. It’s Tuesday night, we need a video.” Nick chimes in from where he’s setting up the camera across the room. When he looks up and sees Chris and Matt giving him looks of disbelief he adds quickly, “But obviously you matter more, friend. Sit this one out.”

“Stop fussing. I’m fine, I swear.” I say teasingly, pushing off the counter and stepping over to the table. Chris shrugs and goes back to unpacking the groceries but Matt sticks close, flicking his eyes to my face every few seconds.

When everything is set up, Nick starts the camera and introduces the video. I wave at the camera when they announce me as the guest and try to give as much enthusiasm as I can.

I eagerly take a bite of the salted watermelon, hoping having something on my stomach will help, but it just makes my stomach lurch. I feel sweat prickling on my forehead but I subtly dab at it, forcing a laugh at Matt and Chris’ bickering.

Just as I’m sure I can make it through the video, Chris opens the bottle of Tajin seasoning and the smell makes me weak in the knees. The edges of my vision start to blur and I reach out and place a hand on Nick’s shoulder for stability.

“Ma-” I start weakly before my eyes roll to the back of my head and everything goes black.

********

“Back up. Give her space to breathe.” I hear Matt say calmly, the boys' voices sounding like they are coming from very far away.

“Is she breathing? Oh my god. I think I’m gonna have a panic attack.” Nick pants frantically.

“Bro, I think I broke my arm trying to catch her. Fuck that hurts.” Chris whines.

“Both of you shut the fuck up.” Matt snaps as I pry one of my eyes open. “I think she’s waking up.”

“Holy shit. Thank god.” Nick sighs in relief. “I’ll never bully you again, Y/N. Unless you wear those fuck ass shoes-”

“Nick. Don’t freak her out. You with me, baby?” Matt says softly.

“Ow.” I manage to reply, rubbing the spot on my arm where I must have hit the floor. Surprisingly, my head doesn’t hurt as much as I expected. Chris must have been successful in not letting my head hit the ground.

“You’re alright, baby.” Matt coos, his gentle strokes on my face pulling me back to myself. When I sit up too quickly and wince, Matt’s eyes widen. “Not so quick. Chill here for a second for me.”

I lean into him as I look around the room. Nick is on the other side of the room, biting his nails nervously, while Chris squats behind me near the fridge. “What happened?” I ask.

Matt raises an eyebrow at me. “You tell us, babe. One minute you were fine and the next you’re giving me a heart attack.”

I frown, feeling guilty, and reach up to touch his face. “Sorry guys. I guess I should have eaten something today.” I think for a second before admitting reluctantly. “Or last night.”

“Are you fucking kidding? Don’t ever do that shit again.” Chris snaps behind me, stepping into protective brother mode.

I sigh and nod my head. “I just forget sometimes.”

“Well remember. You’re taking years off my lifespan here, kid.” Matt says sternly but his tone is still kind. He presses kisses all over my face before standing and helping me to my feet. “How about we pause this and go get you some real food?”

“Really quick though because we still need a video and I would like to sleep tonight,” Nick adds, coming around the table and slinging an arm around my neck.

“Nick. I’m gonna push you down these damn stairs.” Matt threatens, turning to grab the keys before following us to the garage.

When we get to the car, Matt grabs my waist and pulls me into his arms while his brothers climb in. He leans down and places a sweet lingering kiss on my lips before he pulls away. “Never again, alright?”

“Promise.”

He leads me to my spot next to Nick and opens the door for me before jogging around to the driver's seat. I smile to myself at how much I love my little village as we start to back out and head to Cane’s.

“Y/N.” Nick starts.

“Hmmm?”

“What if you're like anemic or have low blood sugar or something? Maybe you should go to a doctor.”

I open my mouth to tell him to stop catastrophizing but Chris cuts in panicking.

“Nick! Don’t speak that shit into the universe. You’re freaking me out-"

🏷️: @sturniolho @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos

@teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @accio326 @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @rootbeerworshiper

#sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo headcanon #matt sturniolo oneshots #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo oneshot #chris sturniolo headcanon #nicholas sturniolo #maggie b writes

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loudstan · 1 year

Text

Perfect Little Toy

Summary: Mark was looking forward to meeting his mate, but he was not expecting to find her in a sex shop.

Pairing: Werewolf! Mark x Witch! Female reader

Warnings: smut, some angst, magic potions used during sex I guess? also this is way longer than my other fics sorry

Mark should have known better. But when Haechan asked him to go shopping with him, never in a million years did he think they would end up in a sex shop.

“Dude, I don’t wanna go in there,” he hissed, trying to break free from Haechan’s unrelenting grip on his arm. Haechan pulled harder, whining vociferously. “S-stop! People are watching,” Mark whispered urgently, trying to hide his face from the curious bystanders.

“What’s the big deal?”Haechan rolled his eyes.

“You could have ordered stuff like this online!” Mark sighed, reluctantly letting himself be dragged into the eye-catching store. “It’s weird to come here together.”

“It’s only weird if you make it weird,” Haechan shrugged, walking to the nearest shelf and inspecting the x-rated shaped toys on display. “We are bros, aren’t we? Remember when you wanted to get a fortune telling reading but didn’t want to go alone? Who went with you?”

“Okay, first of all, you can’t possibly compare fortune telling to vibrators,” Mark argued, slapping Haechan’s hand away when it playfully brought a pink dildo uncomfortably close to Mark’s face. “Secondly, you literally found your mate in that shop, so you should be thanking me.”

“Well, maybe you’ll find your mate in here,” Haechan said.

“Very funny,” Mark deadpanned, offended at the mere suggestion of meeting his destined partner in such a lewd place. “Oh, shit I made eye contact with an employee, fuck he’s coming this way-”

“Hi, welcome to Pandora’s Box. My name is Jeonghan,” said a young man with dark hair and a bored expression as he pointed at the name tag on his shirt. “How can I help you today? Is there anything specific you’re looking for?”

“Hey,man!” Haechan greeted. “You see, my girl and I have a lot of sex-”

“Sure you do,” Jeonghan’s plain voice replied. If only he got paid extra for every time he heard that.

“But she’s human and I’m a werewolf. I’m afraid I’m too big down there for her, you know?” Haechan continued with an arrogant smirk, pointing at his crotch just for extra clarification, Mark cringing behind him.

“Right,”said Jeonghan, clearly unimpressed. Again, if he got paid for each guy who said they were too big. “If you want to train her for your size, then we have some bigger models over here,” he offered, walking the two customers to a shelf with exotic looking silicone dicks. He shoved a massive neon green dildo into Haechan’s hands.“This one was molded after a head alpha. It comes with a remote to simulate a knot,” he said as he pressed a button on the remote and the phallic toy started growing in the werewolf's hands, who was in obvious shock. This was Jeonghan’s favorite part of his job: humbling men who thought they were the shit, when it goes without saying that there’s always a bigger dildo that can do a better job. “It glows in the dark,” he added, biting back a smile.

“Cool,”Haechan breathed out, trying not to show how much they had hurt his ego and ignoring Mark’s snort. “Uh–I’m not sure about the… the color, yeah,” There was no way he was buying a toy bigger than him. “Do you maybe have, uh–...something else? Maybe a potion or something that makes it less painful for her?” He added before that Jeonghan guy tried to show him another colossal toy.

Jeonghan put the toy back on the shelf and lifted his eyebrows as he seemed to think about it for a second. “I guess a potion would work, yeah…This way, please,” he instructed, taking a very embarrassed Haechan and a now amused Mark to a different section of the shop, hidden behind some dark curtains. “Hey, Y/N! Do you have anything to make werewolf penetration more enjoyable for humans?” he asked loudly as they entered a small room decorated with tons of colorful potion jars and illuminated by candles.

At first Mark choked at the employee’s vulgar words and coughed awkwardly. Then a sweet and fresh scent invaded his nostrils, making him freeze. He let out a shaky breath and inhaled once again, letting the summer-like scent fill his lungs and his brain go fuzzy, his eyes trying to focus on the source of such heavenly stimulation. There you were, the most beautiful woman Mark had ever laid eyes on, wearing an employee uniform and your hair tied up neatly not to get in the way of your job. You had stopped mixing a bubbly lilac potion in a cauldron to listen to Jeonghan and help him solve Haechan’s problem. And god, your voice was so melodic, Mark had no idea what you were talking about but he could listen to you forever.

“So this would make her produce as much slick as an omega in heat?” Haechan was fascinated, staring at an expensive looking potion in an elegant jar.

“Well, not automatically,” you replied. “It will depend on how aroused she is. If you can’t turn her on, it won’t help you.”

“So you’re telling me,” Haechan insisted, overconfidently. “That she’ll have no way to hide how turned on she is?” he was already thinking of how cute his girlfriend would look when she’s all wet and embarrassed.

“Yes,” you replied dryly at the same time Jeonghan rolled his eyes at the cocky customer.

Mark, on the other hand, was in his own little world and couldn’t stop staring at your lips. Unconsciously, he found himself wondering if you would need to use that potion to make him fit or if he could make it work by taking things slow. Maybe if he ate you out real good and opened you up with his fingers it wouldn’t hurt that much. Mark didn’t want to hurt you, he wanted to make you feel good, take care of you.

“Holy shit,” he gasped when it finally hit him. This was it. He had found his mate. In a fucking sex shop.

Haechan gave him an inquisitive look, but he quickly dismissed his friend’s reaction as him being impressed by the potion.

“Anything else you need?” Jeonghan asked, making Haechan turn his attention to him once again.

“Mm…Handcuffs?” Haechan asked after a few seconds of hesitation.

“How original,” Jeonghan muttered, before indicating for Haechan to follow him back outside. Mark didn’t budge when his friend walked past him. It was like his feet were glued to the floor as he stared at you going back to mixing the suspicious-looking potion while humming to a sweet melody. His eyes landed on your name tag and he found himself saying your name out loud before he could stop it. You quickly looked up, surprised that the customer was still there.

“Yes?” you asked politely. “Can I help you with anything else?”

Oh shit, he had to think of something before you thought he was a creep. He licked his lips nervously before he came up with a question that sounded convincing enough. “I j-just uh… are y-you the owner?”

“Jeonghan and I both co-own this place,” you replied and gave him a smile. “Why?”

“N-no, because, like, you look very y-young so I w-was a bit…surprised, so…so I asked?” The way he ended as if he was asking a question was kind of cute if you were being honest and you couldn’t help but laugh.

Mark let out a giggle too, dazed at the fact that he had made you laugh. Oh, how he wanted to make you laugh everyday for the rest of his life.

“We came up with this idea when we were in freshman year, so we had plenty of time to save money and plan everything,” you explained patiently. Somehow, this stranger made you feel at ease, like you didn’t need to be careful with him, or at least not the way you were with most men. “By the time we graduated we were ready to open the store. It’s like our baby.”

Mark felt a pang of jealousy at the fact that there was a man who was close enough to you to plan such a big project together. “That’s cool, uh– s-so are you two, like, a thing? A c-couple?”

The sound of your laughter made Mark’s heart skip a beat and he smiled dreamily, almost forgetting what he had asked in the first place.

“No way!” you continued laughing at the ridiculous idea, Mark’s relieved sigh going unnoticed. “We’ve been friends since forever. Just a little advice; never make business plans with a romantic partner, kid.”

“I-I’m 23,” Mark laughed nervously, using the back of his hand to dry up some sweat beads accumulated on his forehead. Your sweet scent was so suffocating it was getting harder to breathe, but he couldn’t care less.

“Oops, my bad! Not a kid,” you said. “You look so young, though! I’m jealous,” you complimented him, not wanting to admit that he also looked gorgeous. “What’s your name?”

“M-mark,” he stuttered. Cute.

“Nice to meet you, Mark,” you extended your hand for him to shake it, smiling more brightly at the way he giggled like an infatuated high-school girl. Everything seemed to be funny to him and it was endearing. He took your hand into his delicately and allowed you to shake it in a friendly manner when your heart started pounding ridiculously fast and you felt the room move around you. Mark’s hard squeeze on your hand brought you back to reality and you saw his body visibly wobbling as he closed his eyes and his chest rose and fell rapidly. “Mark?” you called his name worriedly, but he only whispered your name weakly before he collapsed on the floor with a thud.

“M-mark?” you breathed out, still trying to calm down your own fluttering heart. You knelt down next to his unconscious body and only then you noticed he was covered in sweat. “Shit. Hey, Mark!” you insisted, giving his face a gentle slap with hopes of waking him up. No response. You tried to stand up to go get help, but for some reason you had no strength in your legs. “Jeonghan!” you screamed as loud as you could. Few seconds later, Jeonghan burst into the potions room, his face incredibly pale and eyes wide open, this being the first time he had heard you scream like that. He looked from your terrified face to the motionless man on the floor, trying to assess damage. Immediately after came Haechan, carrying a basket full of different products, which he almost dropped when he saw the state his pack brother was in.

“What happened?!” Jeonghan asked, kneeling down and wrapping an arm over your shoulders protectively.

“I d-don’t know! I just shook his hand,” you said.

Haechan, who had been checking Mark’s pulse, moved his hand from his wrist to his forehead, confirming that he was burning up. “So he became like this right after you touched him?” he asked, staring at you intently, his tone indicating that he knew something you didn’t.

“I guess? I…I really didn’t do anything to him, I swear!” your voice shook, thinking you were being accused of harming such a nice guy. You tried to stand up but, again, your weak legs pulled you back to the floor and you let out a frustrated groan as Jeonghan helped you reach a chair.

“Are you okay?” your friend asked you anxiously, stabilizing you on the chair.

“I’m fine!” you sighed. “I’m probably just nervous. I’m not used to people fainting in front of me- Why haven’t you called an ambulance yet?!” you urged him.

“No need,” Haechan interrupted you before Jeonghan could pull his phone out of his pocket. “This is just his rut. It was due a couple of days, but I guess it came early,” he explained, his eyes shining too excitedly for someone whose friend was unconscious on the floor. He chuckled under his breath like the whole situation was amusing. “He’s fine. He just needs to get home and rest.I’ll ask someone to pick us up,” he added, quickly typing on his phone.

In less than 20 minutes, an old fashioned vehicle pulled up by the store, a man hurriedly getting off the car and making his way to the entrance, stopping midtrack once he opened the door and found himself surrounded by adult toys.

“Yeah, yeah, this is a sex shop. People have sex, surprise!” Haechan said sarcastically, gesturing to the newcomer to come in.

“How’s he?” the intimidatingly tall man asked, after clearing his throat and taking long strides towards where you were. Thankfully, the store was almost empty when the whole incident had taken place, so Jeonghan had quickly kicked the remaining customers out and closed the store, helping Haechan move Mark to a more comfortable place while you got some wet towels to reduce his fever. Now Mark was lying on an improvised bed made of blankets and clothes, almost looking like he was taking a peaceful nap.

“He’s fine, Johnny,” Haechan chuckled. “Our little Mark is just a bit overwhelmed.”

Johnny turned to you and Jeonghan and thanked you for taking care of his brother, before kneeling next to Mark and Haechan. “I didn’t know his rut was due today,” he muttered.

“Because it wasn’t,” Haechan simply said, giving Johnny a playful look.

Johnny stared back at him and raised his eyebrows. “Then what-” he trailed off when he saw Haechan tilting his head furtively towards you, the movement barely perceptible but enough to make Johnny look at you out of the corner of his eyes. Thankfully you were busy talking to Jeonghan, who did catch Johnny staring before the tall werewolf quickly turned his back towards him and tried to move Mark carefully. “Which one,” Johnny whispered only for Haechan to hear, to which Haechan mouthed ‘the girl,’ eliciting an impressed grin from Johnny. “Okay, Markie, let’s get you out of here,” Johnny’s voice was back to normal volume, lifting Mark off the ground and carrying him on his shoulder, Mark’s weak groan being the only sign that he was alive. Haechan followed after him, carrying bags of new toys with him and thanking you again for everything before exiting the shop and getting in the car.

Once you and Jeonghan were left alone in the store, you let out a heavy sigh.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jeonghan asked.

“Yeah, just tired,” you replied, stretching your body now that your legs seemed to function properly. “This town has more werewolves than I thought,” you suddenly said.

“I´ve heard about those guys. It’s a big pack that moved here a couple of years ago, and for some reason the number of members keeps increasing,” Jeonghan huffed as he moved towards the counter to close the cash register. “I also heard some of them are imprinting on humans,” he added slowly, looking at you attentively.

“Imprinting,” you repeated unconvinced such a thing was ever real. “Do you really believe in that whole soulmate thing wolves have going on?”

Jeonghan hummed and seemed to focus on his task of counting bills. “How would I know? I’m not one of them,” he finally said. “It could be real.”

“It’s an ancient tradition. Someone probably came up with it to keep them from having sex with whoever they want,” you spitted.

“They can still have sex with whoever they want,” for some reason Jeonghan was defending werewolves’ outdated way of thinking. “But they are more likely to settle down once they find someone who is very important to them.”

“That's called commitment,” you fired back. “Which is not the same as being forced to like someone through imprinting.”

“They are also gifted,” Jeonghan continued matter of factly, with a hint of annoyance in his voice, like he didn’t like admitting to it. “Down there. Massive dicks.”

“Jeonghan, we literally sell toys that could satisfy me better than a traditionalist guy with attachment issues who thinks having a big dick makes him special,” you deadpanned.

“Okay!” Jeonghan sighed and raised his arms defensively. “No need to be so defensive.”

“I’m not-,” you stopped yourself because you were in fact being defensive. Why did you care? Was it really because you hated old-fashioned ways of thinking? Was there something else bothering you? To be fair, you had been unnecessarily mean; you didn’t think any of the werewolves you just met were traditionalist assholes with attachment issues. Mark especially seemed like such a kind and chill guy. The type of guy you would have asked out on a date if he hadn’t passed out in front of you. Maybe that’s what bothered you: was Mark the type of werewolf who followed traditions to the extent he wouldn’t even give you a chance in order to prioritize his supposed mate? “Sorry, you’re right. It has nothing to do with me anyways.”

When Mark woke up, his head was throbbing and your lovely scent felt like a distant memory. His muscles ached when he sat up and he winced at the way his shirt stuck to his sweaty body. As he took the messy shirt off he heard a soft knock on the door.

“Come in,” he croaked, after taking a proper look at his surroundings and recognising his own room. The door opened slowly and the youngest member of the pack slid into his room, carrying a glass of water and a little medication bottle. Mark could already tell what type of medication it was.

“They told me to give you these,” Jisung offered him the suppressants and waited until Mark had successfully opened the jar and taken a pill into his hands before offering the glass of water.

“Thanks,” Mark muttered before swallowing the pill and gulping down the content of the glass.

“Do you need anything else?” The younger asked sympathetically.

“No,” Mark assured him, already having gone through his rut so many times he just knew there wasn’t much he could do about it besides fucking it out of his system, by himself or with somebody else. “I just have to wait for the suppressants to kick in and I’ll feel a bit better.”

“Do suppressants really help?” Jisung asked curiously. He had only had a rut once and he spent it with his mate, so he didn’t have to suffer as much as his older brothers.

“They make the whole thing bearable,” Mark answered, cracking his neck and sighing tiredly. “But it’s still a pain in the ass,” he admitted.

“Is he awake?” Haechan’s voice called from the door. “You got me worried when I saw you unconscious on the floor, man. I calmed down because I understood what was happening, but you probably scared the shit out of the people who worked at the store. That poor girl didn’t know what to do,” he chuckled, inviting himself into the room and sitting on Mark’s bed.

“Fuck,” Mark groaned at the reminder of such embarrasing first impression and he flopped into the bed. “Y/N…”

“Who is Y/N?” Jisung asked.

“That, little Jisung, would be Mark’s mate,” Haechan revealed and then looked at Mark for confirmation. “Am I right?”

Mark whined and covered his face with his palms, but he nodded.

“And you met her thanks to who…?” Haechan continued, looking from Jisung to Mark , adding a dramatic pause. “Me! I was the one who took you to that sex shop!”

“S-sex shop?!” Jisung choked on his saliva and stared at Mark in shock as if he was waiting for him to tell him it was one of Haechan’s jokes.

“That’s right,” Haechan laughed and then he gasped as he seemed to remember something. “Hold on, I got you something,” he suddenly said, standing up and leaving the room shortly,and coming back with a pair of handcuffs which he gave to Jisung. “Here. These are for the next time your mate tries to run away.”

Jisung’s eyes almost popped out of his head as he stared at the pink, fluffy handcuffs in his palms. “S-shut up!” He stuttered as aggressively as he could in spite of his voice cracking. “Noona’s not going anywhere,” he muttered to himself.

“Fine,” Haechan rolled his eyes and extended his hand. “Give them back if you don’t want them.”

“N-no,” Jisung said quickly and hid the gift behind his back. “You gave them to me.”

“Can you have this conversation somewhere else?!” Mark suddenly groaned. Haechan’s voice was making his headache worse and he really wanted some peace before his rut hit completely. And he definitely wanted to be alone when touched himself to the thought of you.

The next few days were a blur. Mark lost count of how many times he cummed in his hand, on the bedsheets and finally in a fleshlight that Haechan sneaked into his room as a gift at some point. At first, ready to reject whatever ridiculous toy he was bringing, he yelled at Haechan to get out and threw a shoe at him, which Haechan avoided just in time by leaving and closing the door behind him. But then Mark caught your scent. It was very faint, but he would recognise it anywhere. Dizzy, he got up, and crawled towards the fleshlight Haechan had left by the door. He inspected it , never before being so mesmerized by a toy, and bringing it close to his face to inhale your scent deeply. “Y/N…”

“I knew you would like it,” Haechan chuckled from the other side of the door, startling Mark. “It’s a small human size.I went to the store and made sure Y/N was the one selling it to me. I asked her to open the product and test it in front of me…,” he teased. “She stuffed her fingers inside of it to demonstrate how flexible the material is.”

Mark groaned and slid his tongue into the toy hungrily, trembling as he got to taste a bit of you before your scent faded away.

“She asked about you.I told her you were fine and that you were sorry for scaring her. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her the fleshlight was for you,” Haechan continued, oblivious to what was happening on the other side of the door. “That Jeonghan guy is totally onto me though; he wouldn’t stop glaring at me like I’m the biggest perv-,” she trailed off as he suddenly heard wet, slippery sounds, indicating that Mark had wasted no time in using his new gift. “Gross! Wait until I’m gone!” Haechan yelled and ran off. Mark was too gone to care, fucking into the toy with intent and imagining it was you.

No matter how insufferable Haechan was, this would really help him get through his rut more easily. He should thank him later.Later. Now he really couldn’t think with anything but his cock. He let his animal instinct take over and he forgot about everything and everyone except you, and by the time he gained some self control and clarity back, he found the sticky fleshlight completely destroyed in his hands.He panted heavily as he grabbed some tissues to clean himself before he stood up and put some clothes on for the first time in days. As soon as he opened the door he was met with a bag hanging off the handle containing a bottle of water and some energy bars, which he quickly devoured before heading to take a shower.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Jeno asked him as soon as he entered the living room where some of the younger members of the pack were hanging out.

“I’m good,” Mark sighed. “This one was kind of intense, though…”

“We heard,” Jeno said, quickly correcting himself when Renjun nudged him and gave him a pointed look. “I mean, we can imagine.”

“The first rut after meeting your mate is hell if you don’t spend it together,” Jaemin butted in.

“To be fair, your mate was particularly difficult,” Jeno told Jaemin. “She denied you for months.”

“Which I’m sure won’t be the case for Mark,” Jaemin assured Mark, who was squirming anxiously on his seat. “You already know her name and where to find her, and from what we heard she’s single.”

“Wha-how do you guys know that?”

“Haechan said he couldn’t smell anybody else’s scent on her, besides the guy who works with her,” Renjun clarified. “Just go see her when you feel better-”

Renjun’s voice was overpowered by loud whines and complaints coming from the main door, where Haechan and Yangyang were making their entrance.

“I didn’t know!” Yangyang sighed tiredly, like he had been forced to repeat the same thing many times.

“Well now you know, you little traitor,” Haechan hissed, pulling Yangyang’s arm and carrying him to the living room, where everyone stared at them wide-eyed. “Oh, look! Mark is here! Why don’t you tell him who you were planning on letting suck your dick?”

“Look, Mark,” Yangyang gulped, looking anywhere except Mark’s confused face, which was quickly morphing into one of apprehension. “I didn’t mean to- I just-...I was walking back from campus and I saw that new sex shop downtown and there was this hot-” he interrupted himself and looked at Haechan, who was raising his eyebrows at him, encouraging him to go on. “-a woman. I-I saw a woman who was hanging a sign outside the store, something about needing a volunteer to try a new potion. So I asked what it was about, and she said-...” he paused again and breathed in, knowing there was no nice way to say it. “She said it was something that would like, uh- turn off her gag reflex when doing oral, and that she needed a guy whose size was above average and when I asked how she was gonna test it, she said that-...that she tried all her potions herself…So like, she would be the one d-doing the…the sucking,” he trailed off, his voice going quiet as he felt the weight of everyone’s eyes on him.

“...You didn’t,” Renjun was the only one to speak. “...did you?”

“Ugh, I…,” Yangyang groaned. “I’m a man, okay? Why would I say no to a pretty girl sucking me off and giving me cash for it?!”

“MARK’S MATE GAVE YOU A BLOWJOB?!” Jeno exclaimed incredulously.

“NO!” Yangyang quickly shut him up and looked for Mark’s lifeless eyes before denying it again. “No. Nothing happened. I had an interview with her and a guy who works there. They measured my cock, asked for a sexual health check-up and told me to come back tomorrow with the results. I called Haechan to ask him about a good clinic to get tested and he practically jumped down my throat,” he explained nervously. “I…I really didn’t know.”

Everyone stayed silent, looking at Mark who was scarily quiet, clenching his jaw and looking at his own hands folded on his lap. “So? Are you going tomorrow?” he asked cautiously.

Yangyang shook his head quickly, but it was Haechan who spoke. “He isn’t. But you should.”

“Me?!” Mark bawled out.

“Do you want her sucking somebody else off?!” Haechan spit back. “If it’s not Yangyang, there will be another dude out there who’s willing to do it.”

“Haechan’s got a point there,” Jaemin agreed. “She’s gonna test that potion anyways, and you were lucky that the one finding out about it was one of our pack. She won’t be looking for somebody else because she’s expecting Yangyang to show up tomorrow. This is your chance.”

“But she’s expecting him, not me,” Mark said bitterly.

“Not at all! She didn’t seem particularly interested in me. She just thought I was hygienic enough, I guess,” Yangyang laughed awkwardly. “It was kind of intimidating how professional she was about it, to be honest.”

“This is the plan,” Haechan asserted, like he had been waiting the entire time to show how much of a mastermind he was. “Yangyang’s gonna call tomorrow before his appointment and let them know that he had an accident or something,” he quickly explained, ignoring Yangyang’s whine of how bad he was at lying. “And then he’ll say that he sent someone to replace him and BOOM! You show up with your STD test results and your monster cock and she falls in love.”

“Then he would have to go get tested right now,” Renjun said, entertaining Haechan’s plan.

“No need!” Haechan laughed like he was revealing the biggest plot twist. “Because last week, I forced Mark to go with me to get my annual check up and he ended up getting tested since he was already there. Who saved the day again? ME!”

“Problem solved, then,” Jaemin beamed, like it was actually that easy.

Mark nodded slowly and then, when he actually processed what he was agreeing to, he shook his head violently. “No, no way. I can’t do it.”

“What?!” Jeno asked. “Man, you have to!”

“I- I just can’t,” Mark stuttered.

“What, is she ugly?” Jeno asked incredulously.

“No,” both Mark and Yangyang answered immediately. Mark narrowed his eyes and glared at Yangyang who didn’t seem to think he said anything wrong. “What? She really isn’t,” he tried to defend himself.

Mark sighed. “I literally just met her. I haven’t even asked her out. How am I supposed to-...do that?,” he admitted.

“I understand this may not be your ideal version of a fated meeting,” Renjun spoke in a calming manner. “But if you want to take things slowly, you must know that she will be testing all these…sex potions with somebody else. Are you okay with that?”

Mark shook his head and clenched his fists, biting his lip. Hell, no. He could never be okay with anybody else touching you now that he met you. But that was exactly what was going to happen if he didn’t man up and showed up to get a platonic blowjob from his mate who didn’t know was his mate and would suck him off for science/magic purposes only.

And so, Mark found himself standing outside your store the next evening, wearing an expensive hoodie (to keep it casual, but not broke), gray sweatpants that, according to Haechan, accentuated the goods, brand new boxers and holding a neat folder with his check-up results printed in his hands.He took a deep breath in and stepped towards the door, before stopping himself again but this time the door opened from the inside,and he was greeted with Jeonghan’s impassive face.

“Are you gonna come in or not? It stresses me out to see you having whatever internal battle this is in front of my store,” Jeonghan said.

“No-I mean, yes! I was just about-...uh, my brother asked me to- well, he like, sent me to-...,” Mark struggled to get to the point and ended up just giving Jeonghan the folder he was holding. Jeonghan grabbed the folder with a puzzled look, which quickly became one of amusement as he opened it and understood what he had in his hands.

“You’re Yangyang’s replacement?” he asked, his tone slightly playful.

“Uh, yes…if that’s okay,” Mark said, suddenly feeling self-conscious. What if he wasn’t what they were looking for?

“Well, you’re clean and you seem to have a decent size,” Jeonghan pointed out, looking at Mark’s crotch shamelessly. “I’ll just need to ask you a few questions to make sure we’re good to go. You’re also allowed to ask us anything and back down if you feel it’s too much for you,” he explained, making space for Mark to enter the shop and then hanging a sign indicating that they were closed. He then guided Mark to the room where he had first met you before he had any time to prepare himself. “Hey, Y/N, look who’s back!”

You were not expecting to see Mark at all after what had happened last time. First of all, he had literally fainted in your store, which you thought was enough to make him not want to go back there ever. Secondly, he didn’t seem like the type of guy who would casually go to a sex shop. But there he was, standing in front of you and stuttering something about wanting to volunteer for potion testing. As he was speaking, you found yourself looking down and vividly staring at his dick print, salivating at the idea of having him in your mouth. When you looked back up, your eyes met Jeonghan’s knowing ones and you knew he had caught you red handed. Okay you had a tiny crush on this Mark guy, but what you were about to do was strictly professional.

“Are you sure you’re okay doing this? Didn’t you go into rut recently?” you asked, indicating for him to sit down in the chair across yours, as Jeonghan took a sit next to you, going over some papers and taking notes.

“I’m fine. Also…I’m sorry for last time,” Mark rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “It must have been shocking.”

“Don’t apologize for that. I-...” you quickly corrected yourself. “We are glad you’re okay. If you want to do this we need to ask you a few questions first, is that okay?”

When Mark nodded, Jeonghan shot the first question. “Are you a virgin?”

“N-no,” Mark stuttered. “I’ve…I’ve had sex.”

“When was the last time you had sexual relationships?” you asked, trying not to make it noticeable that what you actually wanted to know was if he was seeing someone.

“Uh maybe 5 months ago? Or more, I’m not too sure, sorry.”

“No girlfriend? Or boyfriend?” Jeonghan asked, even though that was not one of the questions on the list.

“No, I’m single,” Mark stated more confidently, his eyes darting towards you nervously.

“Would you be willing to participate in future testing for our products?” you asked, again trying not to show how much you wanted him to say yes.

“Yes,” Mark said firmly, this time staring right into your eyes. He wanted you to call him and only him for whatever you wanted to test. You blushed a little, but quickly hid your face behind some papers you pretended to be reading.

“Did you like the fleshlight?” Jeonghan asked as quickly as Mark answered the previous question, again, not following the script.

“Yes,” Mark answered honestly, caught off guard, and blushing furiously when he properly understood what he had just admitted. Shit. Fuck. Okay, Mark, keep it cool, nothing wrong with using a fleshlight. Just move on to the next question. “But I split it open, s-sorry,” fuck why would you tell them that, Mark?!

“Oh?” Jeonghan was having the time of his life. “How come? Our toys are very resistant.”

“The toy was g-great! Amazing quality, very soft,” Mark cringed at his own words, because he had no idea how to rate a sex toy and it showed. “It’s just that ruts are… rough,” he said for a lack of a better word to describe how wild things got when his wolf consumed him.

You gulped and cleared your throat while Jeonghan let out an impressed whistle and took some notes. “I guess we need to make them even more resistant, then,” you said. “Anyways, Jeonghan is going to measure you now so I’ll step out for a minute and come back when you’re ready, okay?”

When Mark agreed, you left the room and went straight to the restroom to wash your face and calm yourself down. Did he really break the toy with his dick? Fuck, he was going to destroy your throat. But then, he was the perfect candidate to test the potion; if you could deep throat him, it meant your creation had been successful. You took a deep breath in and drank the anti-gagging potion before you made your way to the potions room, waiting for your sign to go in. Then Jeonghan came out and wiggled his eyebrows at you, chuckling.

“I’ll bring you some honey and lemon tea for your throat tomorrow,” he said, winking at you and walking towards the counter to count today’s cash. “He’s all yours.”

You rolled your eyes and walked in. “Mark? are you ready?”

Mark was standing, adjusting the hem of his sweatpants around his hips, giving you a teaser of his defined abdomen and hipbones. He blushed, and nodded. “So… how should we do this?”

“Just take a seat and let me do the rest,” you instructed, quickly kneeling in front of the chair he was now sitting in.

“Y/N,” he suddenly called your name, and his hand stopped yours from pulling the elastic of his pants down.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, your heart dropping at the thought of being rejected. “Did you change your mind?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I was just wondering… Why are you trying the potion yourself? Couldn’t you have found somebody willing to test their gag reflex?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you muttered, distracting by the way his thumb was drawing gentle circles on the back of your hand. “But I find it hard to trust other people when it comes to feedback. This is my product so I want to make sure it works. Plus, I happen to have a strong gag reflex; everything makes me choke,” you shrugged, without noticing the way Mark’s breath stuttered. “So if someone can tell if this potion works, it’s me.”

Mark nodded and exhaled. “Is this the very first time you drink this potion?”

“No. I’ve tested it with inanimate objects, like some of the dildos we sell,” you said and Mark hoped you hadn’t noticed the way his dick twitched at the mental image of your pretty lips sucking on a toy. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna vomit all over you,” you chuckled, trying to ease the tension. You wanted Mark to relax, to feel safe with you. “Any more questions?”

Oh, there was so much that Mark wanted to ask you, like what was your favorite color or if you liked flowers, but he knew it was not the right time, so he just shook his head and released your hand, letting you pull down the waistband carefully. Once you lowered his sweatpants slightly, you looked up at him, looking for any sign of discomfort, but besides the intense blushing that covered his face and ears, he seemed fine, so you took it further by pulling his boxers down enough to release his cock and you gasped out loud. Now you could understand how he managed to destroy the fleshlight.

When you stared at his dick for way too long,Mark got the wrong idea. “You d-don’t have to-“ he tried to say but he ended up hissing when you took him in your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“It’s perfect,” you murmured before remembering you had to keep it professional. “For testing, I mean.”

“O-okay, okay g-glad to hear-ooh!” Mark definitely shouldn’t be trying to have a conversation right now. You had barely touched him and he was already half hard. He should be embarrassed, but he couldn’t even think when you were in your knees between his legs and stroking his cock like that.

On your side, you knew you didn’t need to be jerking him off. The deal was just to put it in your mouth and see if it could reach your throat without gagging you, but it was like you had no control over your actions right now. Just like last time you had seen Mark, your heart was fluttering and you felt lightheaded and all you wanted was for him to feel good.

Carefully, you flicked the head of his cock with your tongue, causing his back to arch and his hips to chase your mouth. “S-sorry,” he quickly apologized, already panting.

“It’s fine,” you purred, your tone a bit too seductive to be professional. Fuck what was Mark doing to you? You were basically drooling as you trailed your tongue from the base to the tip. “I’m gonna put it in now, okay?”

“Fuck,” Mark moaned, throwing his head back and clenching his fist on his sides, not quite knowing what to do with himself. “Y-yes,” he consented.

You didn’t waste more time, guiding the head of his cock into your mouth and sucking softly, and delighting on the hushed curses that left Mark’s mouth. You worried the problem wouldn’t be your gag reflex; you had underestimated his girth, which was making it difficult to even fit him between your lips. You worked on relaxing your jaw and took a bit more of his cock in, trying your best not to let your teeth scratch him.

“Shit…Y/N,” Mark sobbed, trembling under you, when his tip met your throat and you successfully swallowed around him. One of his hands grabbing the hem of his hoodie and lifting it enough to expose his tense lower abdomen. You looked up through your eyelashes, enamored by the way his brows furrowed in pleasure and his chest rose and fell. Before you could think about what you were doing, your hands traveled up, caressing his waist and stomach, which contracted under your hands. Your head bobbed up and down slowly, still trying to remind yourself to be careful of his size in spite of his soft moans driving you crazy.

“Mark,” you call for him, swirling your tongue around the tip teasingly. “Mark,” you repeat when he doesn’t reply, eyes unfocused and mouth agape as he panted. He acknowledged you with a soft ‘hmm?’ and you spoke again. “I need you to fuck my mouth now,” you spoke casually, like you were talking about the weather and Mark could have died right there.

“Wha-,” he stuttered, trying not to panic. “W-what?!”

“I need to check if the potion is still effective when things get rough,” you blushed, hoping not to sound too desperate. In your defense, it was for the sake of the experiment, but a part of you really wanted Mark to fuck your mouth. “You don’t want to?” you whispered, suddenly considering that maybe he wasn’t into you and was only doing this for the money. Maybe he wasn’t enjoying himself as much as you thought. And that shouldn’t bothering you, but it was.

“It’s not that,” he sighed, trying to ignore how hard he was and how badly he did want to face-fuck you. “I’m-...I’m stronger than I look, Y/N. I would ruin you.”

“That’s the point,” you simply said, again trying to help him relax, but also god, did you want it. Mark groaned and clenched his eyes closed, a bead of precum sliding down the head of his cock to your hand that was jerking him off slowly. “So, no?” you asked one last time. Mark bit his lip and avoided your eyes, and you felt officially rejected. “That’s fine, I won’t force you,” you accepted your defeat, trying not to be too bitter about it, slowly letting go of his dick and getting ready to stand up and leave with some dignity. “Please tell Yangyang to come whenever he has time-”

Now, that seemed to do it for Mark. Before you could stand up or finish speaking, he tangled his hand in your hair and pushed your head down onto him roughly. A guttural moan left his lips and you whined in surprise and looked up to him; his eyes had turned red and his jaw was clenched. Without a word he pulled your hair a little and thrusted his hips up sharply, causing you to let out a muffled cry.

“Like this?” he panted, placing both his hands on your head and moving you up and down his length fast, his cock hitting the back of your throat with every thrust. “Is this what you w-wanted?” he growled, not even hiding how irritated he was at the thought of you sucking off his pack brother. The way your jaw stretched for him was uncomfortable, but you couldn’t deny this side of Mark was turning you on. You found yourself wondering if this was the way he treated that poor fleshlight. You also wondered if he had, at least for a second, thought of you during his rut. You moaned around him and his eyes rolled back. “Fuuuuck.”

He quickly brought his eyes back to look at you, like he didn’t want to miss a single detail and thrusted his hips up into your mouth at the same time he guided your head up and down his cock, his moans becoming louder and more desperate, completely forgetting that Jeonghan could probably hear everything from the other room. You looked so pretty, and he hoped you knew that, so he said it.

“You’re so pretty, Y/N,” he said, one of his hands caressing your cheek, while his other hand kept your head in place to take his slower but more forceful thrusts and swallow the salty precum that for some reason tasted addictive to you. You looked up to him, surprised at the sudden gentle words. You knew for a fact there was no way you looked pretty when you were a drooling mess, with sloppy hair and a dick down your throat, but his mouth hanging open in pleasure, forming a perfect ‘o’ shape and the way he looked at you with those intense red eyes filled with lust and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on somehow made you feel like the prettiest girl on earth. You tried your best to hollow your cheeks and swallow around his length and Mark finally lost it, letting out a loud moan that sounded like your name mixed with profanities as hot and thick liquid invaded your tastebuds. Mark kept your head right there while he rode the aftershocks of his orgasm, making sure you swallowed every drop and caressing your hair and praising you until he lost all strength and let his body relax on the chair, releasing the hold he had on you. You let go of his cock with a soft ‘pop’, pulled his pants and boxers back up and rested your head on his thigh, trying to catch your breath and clenching your thighs to get some relief, incredibly aroused.

“W-was that okay?” Mark asked after a while, hoping you didn’t hate him.

“Yeah…” you replied dreamingly, feeling lightheaded. “Perfect.”

“Y/N,” Mark breathed out, caressing your hair and looking at you lovingly. “Can I…Would you let me make you feel good too?”

“Huh?” you croaked, looking up at him. Mark inhaled deeply and sighed, focusing his eyes on your crotch and then you remembered that wolves had an enhanced sense of smell.He could surely smell how wet you were. How embarrassing. “Oh, no! Don’t worry about it,” you said, standing up too quickly and almost falling because your legs were not ready for that. Mark immediately stood up and caught you in his arms, pulling your body and face dangerously close to his. “I- it’s…,” you tried to speak, but it was hard when Mark was close enough to kiss you. “You don’t h-have to, r-really,”

“I want to,” Mark whispered like he was hypnotized, licking his lips and staring at yours hungrily. “Please let me…”

Oh, he was trouble. You wanted to say yes to anything he asked from you. But your prideful side reminded you that you had had to basically beg him to fuck your mouth. It wasn’t like he actually wanted you. “No need,” you finally said, pushing him away gently and turning around to search for his payment. You came back to him and offered him an envelope with cash. “Thank you for your help. It looks like the potion works perfectly,” you said politely, becoming your professional persona again, much to Mark’s disappointment.

He looked from the envelope to your face, until he remembered that, according to you, what had just happened was all business. The fact that you would go on thinking that he would just let anyone suck him off for money made him feel physically ill, but then, he is the one who showed up for the job. He looked away and nodded, before taking the envelope and stuffing it into the pocket of his hoodie, without sparing it a glance. “No problem,” he muttered, dragging his feet towards the exit, but he stopped himself after a couple of steps, addressing you. “Hey, Y/N! Uh… do you, like, maybe- I was wondering if you,” just ask for her number,dude. Why can’t you do it?! “Is there any other potion you need to try?” he asked instead. Mark, you fucking loser.

“Uh…” you pondered for a few seconds. You would love to see him again, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up. But he did say he would be willing to participate in future testing during the interview. “There’s something I’m working on these days,” you admitted shyly, shifting around because of the uncomfortable stickiness between your legs.

“Call me,” Mark said quickly. “Whenever you want to try a new product, call me first,” he added, pointing at the folder where Jeonghan had written all his information, including his phone number. “I’ll t-try them out… with you.”

“O-okay,” you knew you were blushing and you couldn’t even hide the small smile on your lips. Again, you tried not to let it get to your head; for all you knew he could just be desperate for more cash. “We’ll let you know.”

As soon as Mark got home, he was met with uncountable indiscreet questions. The entire house, and maybe the neighborhood knew he had been out there getting a blowjob.

“Did she fall for you?” Haechan asked, coming from the kitchen with a bottle of champagne ready to be opened.

“Not even close,” Mark grunted.

“What?!” he lowered the bottle, disappointed.”What happened?!”

“She gave me the best orgasm of my life and then gave me money,making it very clear it had been for the sake of her business,” Mark muttered, plopping on the couch as his brothers surrounded him with curious eyes. “Didn’t even let me return the favor…”

“So this is it?” Chenle butted in. “You’re giving up?”

“No, I… I told her I was willing to volunteer to test other products and she said she would let me know if something came up.”

Some of the guys gave each other skeptical looks, communicating with their eyes that they thought you wouldn’t call Mark.

“No. You’re going to that store every damn day if you have to,” Haechan said stubbornly.

“Just because it worked for you, it doesn’t mean it will work for everyone,” Mark sighed, remembering how Haechan had showed up in their mate’s store everyday for months to win her over. “A guy going to a sex shop everyday? She’ll think I’m a perv.”

“Persistence is key,” Haechan insisted, but Mark wasn’t listening anymore. He stood up and left to lock himself in his room, leaning against the door. He took the cash envelope out of his pocket and threw it somewhere on the floor, letting out a frustrated groan. He should have asked for your number like a normal man interested in a woman. Why did he have to be such a coward? He probably wouldn’t hear from you again.

…But he did. After a couple of weeks of him watching the store from afar (while Haechan straight up went to the store and bought whatever just to make sure you weren’t testing any potions with somebody else), one morning he got a call from an unknown number.

“Hello?” he murmured lethargically, still half asleep.

“Hello? Is this, uh…Mark Lee?” your voice asked on the other side of the line.

“Y/N, shit-,” he sat up immediately as soon as he recognised your voice. “Sorry, I was- Y-yes, this is M-mark.”

“Hi, Mark, this is Y/N ,from Pandora’s Box,” you introduced yourself even though you had clearly heard him say your name. “We were wondering if you were still interested in helping us test our products,” you recited just like you had practiced a thousand times before making the call.

“Yes, please!” Mark answered way too quickly. “I mean, I would love to- I… sure, I can help.”

“Would you be available Saturday night?”

“Y-yeah, Saturday sounds great,” honestly, he would have showed up in his pajamas right now if you had asked him to.

“Great! I’ll text you the address. Save my number!” you said quickly and hung up before he could question if it all had been a dream. You put the phone down and glared at Jeonghan. “Happy now?” you asked him sarcastically and he laughed.

“Now, that wasn’t that hard, was it?” he asked back. He had been teasing you ever since the last time Mark had visited the store. Being your best friend meant he could immediately tell when you liked someone and you really really liked Mark. So Jeonghan, being the good friend he was, had been pestering you day and night to call Mark directly instead of recruiting new volunteers to test your potion.

Still on his bed, Mark was having a thousand different thoughts a second. You’d said you would send him an address. So you wouldn’t meet at the store? And you also told him to save your number… so the phone you used to call him had to be yours, right? Oh god, was this like a date? Just then, a notification of a message from the same number popped up, informing him of the address he had to go to the next day. Nothing more, and nothing less. He bit his lip nervously. Why did you have to keep treating everything like a job? Would it kill you to send an emoji? But he told himself this was no time to be pessimistic. You had called him, and that was a good start.

And here he was now, on a Saturday night, ringing the bell of an apartment and trying to control his anxiety.

“Mark?” He was met with your flustered face when you opened the door, wearing an oversized shirt that had him wondering if you were completely bare under it. “You’re early!” you said, pulling the hem of the shirt lower to cover you better. “S-sorry, come in! I’ll just get changed quickly.”

“You don’t have to!” Mark said way too fast, having a hard time to stop looking at your thighs. “I m-mean, you can if you want to, but I…I don’t mind… like, at all.”

You blushed and stared at Mark, not knowing how to reply to that, because he was obviously checking you out.

“I mean, this is your house,” Mark stated. It wasn’t a question; your scent was everywhere. “You get to wear whatever you want, right?” he shrugged, hoping he wasn’t making it that obvious that he didn’t want you to cover up. “Why are we meeting here, by the way?”

“I thought some privacy would be nice,” you said, remembering how Jeonghan made fun of you because of how loud Mark had been last time. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“Not all all.”

“Cool,” you sighed. “I just need to add a couple of ingredients and the potion will be ready. Make yourself at home,” you made your way towards the kitchen, deciding not to change clothes, partly because your current outfit was comfortable, but mostly because you secretly enjoyed Mark’s eyes on your body.

Instead of finding a seat and killing time on his phone, Mark followed you, hoping you didn’t mind some company. He leaned against the fridge as he watched you do your thing, trying to come up with something to say to start a conversation.

“How’s your throat?” he finally asked, watching you almost drop the spoon you were holding.

“Fine,” you gave him a short answer. He didn’t need to know you could barely speak for a couple of days after you deepthroated him.

“Good to hear,” he whispered, watching you with doting eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he confessed. Maybe it was because your aroma was surrounding him, but he found himself feeling more relaxed and open to speak without filtering his words.

“You didn’t hurt me,” you assured him, not daring to look at him and focusing on your potion instead. “You were…really good.”

“Yeah?” he purred, feeling lightheaded by the domestic view of you wearing nothing but an oversized shirt in the kitchen, wishing he could see this everyday of his life.

“Y-yeah,” you gulped,feeling his eyes boring into you. “Okay, uh-I’m gonna need a drop of your blood,” you changed the topic quickly.

“Sure,” Mark didn’t even question it. You could have all of him. He walked towards you and let you grab his hand, using a needle to prick his index finger as fast and unpainfully as you could, letting a single drop of his blood pour into the cauldron. Immediately after, you did the same to your own finger, letting your blood mix with his in the potion. “What does this potion do?” Mark asked.

You gave him a surprised look. “Didn’t I tell you on the phone?”

Mark shook his head, chuckling. You remembered how you were so nervous you hung up on him as soon as he agreed to help.

“And you still came? Without even knowing-” you gasped when Mark took your hand into his and slid your injured finger into his mouth, softly sucking on it.

“Does it hurt?” he asked gently, giving it little licks, completely forgetting the conversation you were having just now.

“N-no,” you sighed, confused and nervous at the loving way Mark had been behaving ever since he entered your place. Maybe he was just being nice and you were imagining things. “Anyways, about the potion,” you raised your voice in panic, removing your hand from his and going back to mixing the potion. “It will make you feel what your partner feels. This way, people can know if what they are doing is enjoyable and no one needs to fake their orgasms.”

“Have you?”

“Have I what?” you asked, now pouring the bright pink potion in two different glasses and offering one to him.

“Faked an orgasm?”

“Of course. Not like men care enough to check,” you said, hearing Mark tsk next to you. “So, after we drink this potion, I would need you to touch yourself,” you swallowed nervously, hoping not to scare Mark away with your straightforwardness. “ Nothing too wild, just something that feels good to you and we’ll see if I feel it too… if you are still up for it?”

Mark raised an eyebrow and straight up drank the potion, not leaving a single drop behind. He wouldn’t even dream of letting you try that out with somebody else. “Well?” he asked, tilting his head towards your glass. You hesitated for a moment before drinking the potion too.

“S-so, you can use the bathroom and uh-...do whatever you need t-to do,” you stuttered nervously, showing him where the bathroom was and letting him have some privacy. You assumed he would probably need to watch some porn on his phone or something, but you had no idea your scent already had him on edge. As soon as you sat down on the sofa, you felt a tingling sensation on your neck, which traveled to your shoulders and then your arms. And then it clicked; you were feeling his fingers. He was gently caressing his own body like he would to a lover and you could feel it on yourself. You gasped when the invisible fingers ran down your chest and grazed your nipples softly before toying with them. Oh fuck, the potion really worked.

Mark never took his sweet time like this when touching himself, but just thinking that he was indirectly touching you made him want to seize the opportunity. He closed his eyes and let his hands move like they were exploring your body. He teased himself by running his hands up and down his abdomen several times, always stopping at the waistband before sneaking only the tip of his fingers in, imagining you begging him to get to it.

In the other room, you were mentally begging for him. His faint touches had you trembling and wanting to touch yourself. You didn’t, because you knew he would feel it if you were pleasuring yourself and it would be embarrassing, but god you wanted to. Thankfully, Mark seemed to have mercy on himself-on you- and slid his hand past his boxers, fully palming himself and letting out a moan that echoed past the bathroom walls. You bit your lip to suppress the moan that almost escaped you, quickly crossing your legs at the sudden stimulation, arching your back when you felt slow circles being drawn on your clit. Shit, he was teasing the head of his cock, going from slow big circles to tiny fast ones that had you squirming on your seat. That’s when it hit you that he wasn’t doing this to himself, but to you. This fucker was doing it intentionally.

Mark started stroking his cock furiously, knowing it would take you by surprise and smirking victoriously when he heard a whine coming from the living room. He was so thankful for his enhanced hearing right now, because he could hear every little gasp you let out like you were right in front of him. When he felt himself close to his climax he stopped moving his hand and chuckled at the way you whimpered. He pulled his pants back up and exited the bathroom to find you in the living room.

“Did it work?” he asked innocently, trying not to laugh at your frustrated, blushing face. You cleared your throat and opened your mouth to say something, but closed it again and nodded. He eyed you up and licked his lips, before sitting on the couch in front of you. “Shouldn’t we test if it works both ways?”

“W-what?” you croaked, breathing heavily.

“Don’t you need to know if I feel what your body feels too?” he asked, scanning your body carefully.

Even in your aroused state, you knew he was making sense. Plus, you were so close and desperate to cum you didn’t care if it was embarrassing anymore. But you also wanted to get back at him for teasing you. So you obliged, sliding one of your hands under your shirt right there in front of him. His breath hitched and his eyes widened when he saw what you were doing.He was a bit disappointed when he saw that you were in fact wearing a pair of shorts under your shirt, but he wasn’t going to complain when he had you groping your tits in front of him. He sighed shakily at the way you floundered your breasts, occasionally teasing your nipples.

“Can you feel it?” you asked.

Mark licked his lips and shifted on his seat. If he admitted he felt it, would it be over?Would you give him money and kick him out again? He had to make it last. “I-...I’m not too sure. My nipples are not very sensitive so m-maybe…you could touch somewhere else?” he asked hopefully, letting his eyes fixate on your crotch.

“You’re not sensitive there?” you teased, sliding your hands down your stomach to your shorts. “But you were touching them so much earlier…”

“Did you like it?” he asked hopefully, his body leaning forward and falling on his knees on the floor, slowly crawling towards you and breathing heavily..

“This isn’t about my pleasure,” you sighed, your words contradicting how wet you were when your fingers made contact with your pussy.

“Why not?” Mark asked, on his knees in front of you, looking at your fingers move up and down under the fabric of your shorts.He swallowed back a moan at the way your teasing touch felt on his own body thanks to the potion. “Why can’t it be?”

“I just w-want the best for my b-business,” you said stubbornly between moans, getting closer to your orgasm when a pair of strong hands stopped yours from moving and you gasped. “M-mark?”

“Then we should test this shit right, don’t you think?” Mark asked through gritted teeth, his eyes displaying the same red color you saw when he fucked your throat weeks ago.

“T-test it right?” you repeated dumbly, as he took your hand out of your shorts.

“Do you normally just meet up with sexual partners, watch each other touch themselves and call it a day?” Mark asked you nonchalantly.

“N-no, but…”

“Isn’t the entire point of this to feel if our partner likes what we do to them?” he clarified, gently placing his hands on each of your knees.

You froze at his words. Was he suggesting you touched each other? You already liked him way too much for what would be a normal crush. You knew you would fall for him badly if you two went any further.

“Let me,” Mark pleaded, moving his palms up and down your thighs and applying more pressure on a spot on your inner thigh he literally felt you liked better.

Would it really be that bad to give in? To enjoy yourself a little? To allow yourself to feel something for him?

“Okay…” you finally said and Mark didn’t waste a single second more, pulling your tiny shorts off and groaning at the sight of your wet panties sticking to your pussy. He licked you languidly through the thin fabric and moaned loudly at both the way you tasted and his own body receiving the pleasure he was giving you.

“O-oh my god,” he whined leaning back in, this time more aggressively, moving his head up and down and lapping and sucking brutally.

“F-fuck,” you moaned, trying to close your legs around Mark’s head, who didn’t seem to care at all. He hummed and slid his hands up your thighs to your ass, grabbing your buttcheeks and pushing you against him harder, which made you tremble and throw your head back. “Mark, oh god, M-mark I’m-...I’m gonna-”

Mark knew. He felt how close you had been to coming so many times in the last half an hour. He himself was close too, so he used one of his hands to stroke himself in sync with his tongue, bringing both of you to such a powerful orgasm you couldn’t even moan, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your body tensed. Your legs fell off Mark’s shoulders as he continued licking you obsessively.

“Mark,” you moaned, trying to push his head away weakly. “I’m s-sensitive, Mark.”

Again, he knew. He was trembling himself at the overstimulation, but he didn’t want it to end. “Please,” he whined when you managed to put some distance between you. “Just a little bit more, please,” he begged desperately tugging at your panties which ended up tearing apart in his hands. You gasped and he looked at the ruined material he was holding in his hands. He seemed as confused as you were. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to-” he muttered. You remembered how he had told you that he was stronger than he looked, how he had broken one of your best selling toys and now he had destroyed a pair of panties without even trying. Fuck, the things he could do to you.

You loved it.

You loved him.

Wait, what? You knew your crush on him was weird, because of how your body reacted to your first encounter, how your mind would go to him 24/7 and how you really wanted him to…bite you?? You looked at him, on his knees, staring back at you cautiously; almost like he could tell what you were thinking, like he felt what you felt not only physically…but emotionally. The potion had worked so well, you could feel everything the other felt. The lust, love, possessiveness, the need he had to mate you, you felt it all.

He had imprinted on you.

“Y/N…” he could sense it; you were terrified. He reached for your hand, but you quickly stood up, pulling your shirt down and walking away from him with wobbly legs, ignoring your ripped panties sliding down your legs. “Y/N, come on…” he called, standing up and going after you, stopping when you turned back to him, offering him an envelope with his payment.

“Thank you for your help,” you said robotically, looking at the door instead of him, indicating it was his time to leave.

Mark glared darkly at the damn envelope in your hands. There you went again, being intimate with him, making him feel like his heart could burst out of happiness and then throwing cash at him like he was a hooker. Why did you have to make it feel so dirty? He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to let you go, but maybe he shouldn’t push it too hard. Maybe you needed some space and you could talk later.

“Keep the money,” he sighed, walking uncomfortably towards the door due to the stickiness in his pants. “See you.”

“You won’t,” you spitted, flinching when he turned around quickly and glared at you. “We w-won’t be calling you for future testing.”

Mark tightened his jaw and stared at you for what felt like an entire minute before he decided he was done being the nice guy. Fuck it. If this was the last time he would see you, he wanted to at least know what your fucking problem was.

“Why not?” he asked, walking towards you and feeling the anxiety build up in your body while you took some steps back. “Didn’t I satisfy you?”

You looked away. You knew it wasn’t fair to treat him like he was part of a transaction, but you didn’t think you were ready for what a wolf imprinted on you meant.

“We came at the same time, didn’t we? We felt everything the other person felt-we still do,” he continued, chuckling when he felt the way your heart skipped a beat at his words. “Didn’t I prove my worth as a test subject? Aren’t I the perfect little toy you wanted?”

His words were playful, but you felt the pain and anger behind them.

“You’re not a toy,” you said as firmly as you could.

“Then don’t treat me like one,” Mark growled.

“When did I ever-”

“You keep shoving money into my pocket and kicking me out as soon as you’re done with me-”

“That was the deal!” you yelled exasperatedly.

“Screw the deal!” he raised his voice too. “ I can literally feel how much you want me. How much you want me to stay. So why are you making me leave? How long are you going to play with my feelings?” he paused, taking a deep breath in and trying to tune into your emotions, trying his best to understand you. “Are you-...afraid of me?” The way your level of anxiety skyrocketed gave him the answer he needed. “Why? B-because I’m a werewolf? Because of my strength?” he asked sadly.

“No, that’s…that’s not a problem for me,” you admitted shyly. Not wanting to say you were into that.

“Then what are you afraid of?” he asked.

“You imprinted on me,” you confronted him.

“...Yes,” he calmly confessed.

“These…feelings,” you tried to explain, pointing at your body vaguely. “All these things you’re feeling right now, and that now I can feel too… do you- do you feel them all the t-time?”

“Yeah, especially when I think about you,” he sighed. “...which is pretty much all the time.”

“H-how-” you breathed with difficulty. “How do you c-control them? They are so…intense.”

“I don’t,” Mark simply said. “I tried to tone them down at first, but I just made it harder for myself. I accept them and let them control me once in a while.”

“L-let them control you?!” you repeated incredulously.

“Ah, so this is what this is about,” Mark threw his head back and let out a breathy laugh. “You have control issues.”

You scoffed, walking angrily towards the kitchen. Not that you had anything to do there, you just wanted to get away.

“Am I wrong?” he challenged, chasing after you. “You’re annoyed because you can’t control the way you feel for me,” he cornered you against the kitchen counter, making you face his red eyes. “And you can’t control me.”

You visibly shivered at that. “Mark…”

“I came here because I wanted you. I ate you out because I’ve wanted to taste you since I first saw you. I love feeling this way about you and I have no intention of controlling it,” he whispered, taking a step closer to you, leaving almost no space between you.

You breathed heavily. His feelings were too intense for your body to take. “Then who’s g-going to be in control?” you asked nervously.

He chuckled. “None of us,” he replied like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Just let go,” he purred against your lips. “Allow yourself to feel it. Feel me.”

So you did. You crashed your lips against his and brought his body into yours desperately, tugging at his hair and moaning wantonly. He cursed under his breath and shoved his tongue into your mouth, tasting every bit of you he could. You pulled away to breath, which was still hard with how tense you were. “Relax,” Mark murmured, kissing down your neck and nipping at your collarbones. “Feel everything. I got you, pretty girl.”

You inhaled and exhaled slowly, feeling all tension leave your body while Mark’s mouth and hands worshiped your body. A warm sensation filled you and a shiver ran down your spine when you allowed yourself to lose control. “F-fuck, oh my god, Mark-” you moaned out loud when he took your shirt off and attached himself to your tits, licking them obscenely. There was nothing soft and gentle about the way you both were behaving, with your fingers pulling his hair and him humping you desperately, like you both couldn’t wait any longer. The fact that you could feel anything the other could, made it a thousand times more intense.

“F-fuck I’m gonna cum like this,” Mark whined, rutting his clothed cock against your bare pussy faster, burying his head between your breasts and holding your body tightly against his. The constant friction on your clit had you gasping for air and you soon felt yourself cumming, staining his pants and shaking at the second orgasm you two had shared that night.

Before you had any time to recover, Mark lifted you off the ground and sat you on the kitchen counter, taking his shirt off and stepping out of his pants and boxers carelessly. He positioned himself between your legs and pressed his naked body against yours, bringing your lips to his for another passionate kiss, and allowing his hands to touch every corner of you.

Unconsciously you found yourself pressing your hips into his, moaning at the wet sounds that could be heard whenever his cock moved against your wet pussy. He was panting heavily into the messy kiss, physically shaking because of how much he wanted to be inside of you.

“Put it in, god, please, put it in,” you begged him.

“Shit, Y/N,” he groaned, giving you one last kiss before lining up his cock with your entrance and wincing when he could barely slide the tip in. “Y/N, y-you can’t take it-”

“I can, please-please Mark I...,” you slurred your words, grabbing his hips and trying to force him deeper into you. “I c-can.”

“You’re in pain, Y/N,” Mark hissed. The effects of the potion had faded away, but he wasn’t an idiot. He only needed to look at his size and then at yours.

“But, Mark,” you whined, kissing a spot on his neck that had him moaning out loud. “I really want it.”

He took a moment to think.He wanted it too, but he didn’t want to hurt you.

“J-just go slowly, hmm?” you suggested as an alternative to stopping completely.

Mark nodded. Slow, yeah. He could do that. “D-don’t move,” he warned you, sliding just a tiny bit more of his huge dick into your tight wet hole and groaning when your walls contracted around him. Okay, maybe he couldn’t do it. “Y/N, don’t do that…”

He looked up to your face and saw that it was pointless to give you any orders right now. Your unfocused eyes and the way you bit your lip created an erotic sight that he would never be able to forget. “Fuck, Y/N” he pushed into you some more while looking at your blissful face and laughed in disbelief. “You’re fucking loving this, aren’t you?” he asked. When you only nodded dumbly, he inhaled sharply and kissed you hungrily, snapping his hips into yours harshly and holding your spasming body against his.

“Shit, d-did you just come?!” Mark asked incredulously, delivering kisses on the corner of your lips and all over your face while you sobbed. “You’re f-fucking insane, did you k-know that?” he spoke as he started fucking you fast and rough from the get go. “So pretty and s-sensitive, just for me.”

“S-so big,” you cried out.

“Yeah?” he cooed, changing the way he was fucking you to slow but deep. “Too big for my pretty girl?” god, he just loved how your eyes rolled back into your head and your hands reached blindly for something to hold onto, dropping a few kitchen supplies into the floor. “But you said you c-could take it, didn’t you?” he asked, thrusting into you particularly hard and making you scream.

“I gah-I c-can, I can,” you insisted, tears running down your face, which Mark quickly wiped off before he kissed you. “F-uh, faster-” you whined in between kisses.

“Faster?” Mark’s crimson eyes gleamed mischievously, and his hips snapped into yours fast twice, teasing you. “Is this no good?” he asked, resuming his slow pace at sliding in and out of you. You shook your head and tried to bring him closer with your legs around his waist. “Don’t you want to feel every.inch.of.me?” he hissed, accentuated each of the last words with sharp thrusts into your pussy.

You murmured something that Mark couldn’t quite understand, so he stopped his movements to let you catch your breath. “What was that?” he asked you, caressing your cheek. “Tell me, pretty girl.”

“B-bite me…” you croaked weakly.

Mark’s cock twitched inside of you and it took all of his self control not to come right in that moment.

“Don’t play with me, Y/N…” he warned you.

You shook your head, moving your hips against his and pulling his hair to bring him dangerously close to your neck. He gasped, salivating at the chance he was being given.

“Bite me, Mark…” you repeated and shuddered when he snarled against your skin and sank his teeth into your neck. You mewled and threw your head back, holding onto his shoulders. “O-oh god, Mark, M-mark fuck-ah!”

Without detaching his mouth from your neck, Mark went back to fucking you, this time fast and animalistically like you had asked him to, the pace so fierce that your moans were coming out as staccatos.

“Uh-uh-aah-ah fuck-fuck, Ma-ark!” you sobbed, sure he was gonna break you, but loving every second of it.

Mark could not stop as his cock started growing inside of you. “Y/N, Y/N shiiit gonna-...gonna k-knot you fuh- fuck, s-so pretty,” he panted against your neck, giving it gentle kisses as an apology for what he was about to do. “Oh, fuck- ooooh yeah, y-yeah-” he gasped and plunged into you viciously fast, letting his eyes roll to the back of his head and drooling all over your neck as his abdomen contracted and spurts of cum spilled into you, knot securing it all inside your tight pussy. “Y/N-...Y/N, fuck,” he groaned as you scratched his back, leaving angry red marks all over him.

“Holy shit,” he breathed out once his fluttering heart calmed down enough for him to speak. “My pretty girl,” he purred, pecking your neck and then looking for your lips to kiss you lovingly. “All mine.”

“Yours,” you murmured against his lips, allowing him to kiss you again and again. "And you're mine."

“Does that mean you won’t try your potions on other men?” he asked you, half joking, half serious.

“Why would I need to? You’re my perfect little toy, after all,” you teased him back, making him groan at the way you used his own words against him. “I’m joking.You’re not a toy,” you clarified, kissing him sweetly and looking into his eyes. “But you’re perfect.”

#nct imagines #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct mark smut #mark lee smut #mark lee x reader

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