#I love the warmth of these colors and the love in their gaze~ and the shading on T'Pring's dress!!

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jungkook (29)⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist

note: old taglist + taglist in reblog

//

“surpise!” 

the burst of familiar voices around you fills the space as jungkook gently pulls his hands away from your eyes.

the world comes into focus, and you’re met with a room full of smiling faces, balloons, and twinkling lights decorating the penthouse. 

your heart races as you take it all in—your parents and jungkook’s on the side with zion and zia in their arms, the guys with their playful grins, and even nam joon, who stands with a friendly nod.

“what’s all this?” you gasp, your voice a mix of disbelief and delight.

jungkook steps beside you, his eyes shining with excitement. 

“happy birthday, honey!” he grabs your hands, squeezing them as he beams down at you. “i wanted to do something special. we’ve got food, games, and your favorite cake… well, zion’s.” 

you can’t help but laugh, feeling overwhelmed by the love in the room. 

“this… this is—wow—thank you, honey. i love it. i love you,” you say, cupping his face with your hands. you tiptoe and kiss him softly. as you pull away, you smile. “honey, i can’t believe you did all this! i thought we were just having a quiet dinner.”

“quiet is overrated,” he teases, guiding you further into the room. “besides, you deserve to be celebrated. you know what this date means to us… to me.”

you can’t help but look at him with a soft smile.

it’s the way he always knows just what to say to make you feel seen and cherished. his words and actions fill you with warmth. it’s moments like these where you’re reminded that you truly chose the right person to love. 

jungkook’s sincerity is so raw and so real. 

this day, this celebration—it’s not just about the party or the cake, but about the life you’ve built together. 

it’s a celebration of the family you’ve become. 

together. 

as he catches your gaze, the quiet tenderness in his eyes speaks volumes, and in that moment, everything else fades. 

“don’t—” he starts, “we can cry about this later together. right now, enjoy the party.”

you muster a smile and nod at him. 

as you take a few steps forward, the sound of zia’s laughter catches your ear. you turn to see her in your mother’s arms, giggling with delight at the colorful decorations. you greet your parents warmly, receiving a kiss on your cheek from both of them.

“zion!” you call out, spotting your little boy running toward you, his face lighting up with joy. “you look so cute, my love! look at your little bow tie—”

zion rushes to you, wrapping his tiny arms around your legs. 

“happy birthday, mommy! am i handsome like daddy?” he blushes, looking up at you with innocent pride.

you look at jungkook, eyes wide and filled with admiration. then, you look back at zion with the same expression. kneeling down, you fix zion’s bow tie before attacking him with kisses. 

“yes, my love,” you tell zion. “so handsome. just like daddy.”

jungkook stands behind you, watching the scene with a fond smile.

“handsome like his daddy? maybe our father-son relationship has hope after all.” 

you hit his stomach with the back of your hand as you get up. he chuckles and ruffles zion’s hair, urging him to go to his grandpa. 

as you straighten up, you take a moment to gaze around the room, your heart swelling with gratitude. 

the penthouse is filled with the soft scent of flowers. their vibrant colors scattered across the space—roses, peonies, and hydrangeas in sleek vases add life to every corner. not to mention the birthday decorations are thoughtfully placed: silver streamers drape across the ceiling, and a "happy birthday" banner hangs delicately over the living room. a champagne tower sits elegantly on one side, glistening glasses stacked high, ready to be poured.

a few catering staff move quietly through the space, offering appetizers on silver trays, their soft footsteps blending into the background. the open kitchen reveals the omakase chef, expertly preparing food with graceful precision. jimin, taehyung, and hobi are sitting patiently on the other side of the kitchen island for the chef to get started. yoongi and his girlfriend are on the sidelines, watching and whispering in each others ear. meanwhile, jin and nam joon are talking to one another. 

everything is perfect. 

the warm, inviting ambiance makes the penthouse feel like the perfect mix of cozy luxury—everything perfectly curated yet relaxed, just like the man behind it all.

“honey, you’ve outdone yourself,” you say to jungkook, feeling giddy with appreciation. “the place is stunning. this is all so amazing. did you hire a party planner?”

he shakes his head and winces at you. 

“have you no faith in your visual director in advertisement husband?” jungkook scolds you. “god, it’s like i have to teach you a lesson or something—oh. hey, nam joon.”

just then, nam joon approaches, a slight smile on his face. 

“hey,” he acknowledges jungkook.

“thanks for coming,” jungkook offers him a lazy smile. 

“wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“you could though,” jungkook tightens his lips. “party would’ve been fine with or without you.” 

you hiss at him. 

nam joon laughs, taking jungkook’s tone lightly. soon, jungkook breaks character and laughs along. he then kisses your cheek and excuses himself so you and nam joon could talk. as jungkook joins the crowd, you open your arms and give nam joon a friendly hug. 

“thanks for coming! i know the firm can get busy this time of year—”

“would be much more manageable if you signed for partner,” he remarks casually, causing your expression to shift slightly. 

“timing was off,” you breathe. “you know that.”

“i know it,” he nods. “are you thinking of starting your own firm?” 

you shake your head, followed by a small smile. “no... jungkook has been talking about starting his own company and i feel like that will be a better focus for us... don't get me wrong; i love being a lawyer... but things got intense and mentally so draining so fast. it took a lot from me… from my family. truth be told, i miss it… all of it. court, the cases, the people—but i’m also a little afraid. i don’t want to drown in my work life like that again. so… i guess i’m mustering up the courage… and zia is almost one! i can’t… not be here for these kinds of things.” 

nam joon understands you.

he looks at you softly, respecting everything you said. out of everyone, he probably knows you the best when it comes to your career. you have worked extremely hard to be where you are now… he doesn’t want to see it go to waste. 

which is why he makes a pitch. 

“would you ever be interested in teaching law?” 

you blink. 

“i have connections to most of the law schools around here… i heard there were a few openings too. i can refer you. if you hate it or if you ever decide you’re ready to come back… come back and accept the partner position. our firm will wait for you… i will wait for you. in return, don’t stop doing what you love but don’t let it kill you either. you have fought enough and earned your place, ___. you're a good lawyer too. it wouldn't be right for me to stand here and you go.”

“oh my god. y-yes. nam joon—”

“alright. consider this a birthday gift.” he smiles, before patting you on the back. then, he takes out his phone and begins to type. “i’ll email a few of my connections right now just so it’s like a real present. happy birthday, ___.”

before you can even thank him, he turns and gets on call with someone.

you sigh.

but you smile.

you're thankful.

with the party in full swing, you weave through the crowd, hugging friends and family, sharing laughter and stories. you take everything in, feeling the warmth of their love. this is where you belong. this is where you are loved.

as the room fills with a soft hum of conversation and laughter, jungkook's arms slip around you, holding you close as you both sway together, grounding you in the comfort of his presence.

"ready to cut the cake?" he murmurs, his voice gentle, but that familiar spark in his eyes still present.

you nod eagerly, feeling a rush of joy from the gathering, from the laughter of your closest friends and family. jungkook then raises his voice to call everyone over. soon, the room fills with smiling faces, and zion giggles as he darts toward you, small arms outstretched. you bend down to scoop him up, his little hands curling around your neck as he snuggles close.

jungkook joins you at your side, holding zia in his embrace, her tiny hands reaching for you as she giggles.

just as everyone is about to sing happy birthday, jungkook clears his throat, drawing everyone's attention.

“before we sing and cut the cake,” he begins, his eyes never leaving yours, “i just wanted to say a few words.”

a hush falls over the crowd, and jungkook smiles, taking a deep breath, his gaze filled with something that makes your heart race.

“thank you all for coming. i know keeping this a secret from ___ wasn’t easy since she’s nosy—”

“hey!” you frown, playfully smacking his arm.

“but we love her,” jungkook pauses, glancing at you with a teasing smile.

the crowd laughs with you.

“... and with that being said, honey, i’m so glad i have the privilege of being your husband. from the life we’ve built together, our children, our home—to our friends and families—you have made every aspect of my life happier, brighter, and fuller. even in our most difficult moments, i have never doubted that you are the one for me. i have chosen you every day, and will spend the rest of my life doing so… and you know? i used to be afraid of time. not having enough of it to spend with you and our children… but not so much anymore. every day, you hold my hand, make me laugh, and kiss me—giving meaning to our forever. so, here… right now, i want to say this to you: our time is forever. ___, if it takes bending every rule, making new ones, or breaking every piece of time itself—for me to be the one you love in every lifetime—then i’d do it.”

his voice is strong, clear, yet filled with a gentleness that brings a lump to your throat. “i have seen the way you love and i have felt it every day in every possible way. i feel it in our success and in our losses. god, am i ever so blessed to feel it. ___, i love you, always. you are my divine. my everlasting love. my heart in every lifetime... and i—truly, madly, deeply—i am yours forever.”

the world falls away, leaving only jungkook’s words hanging in the air.

they’re rich with love and promise. you feel zion’s small weight in your arms, his head resting against your shoulder, a gentle reminder of everything you and jungkook have created together.

your eyes blur as the room and faces around you seem to melt into a soft haze. there’s only jungkook’s gaze—kind, loving, forever.

a shaky breath escapes your lips as you look at him, your heart swelling with a love so deep it feels almost impossible to contain.

zion shifts in your arms, sensing the emotion in the room. his little fingers reach up to pat your cheek, grounding you. you press a kiss to the top of his head, gathering yourself, your voice catching as you try to find the words to answer jungkook’s confession.

you give a small, breathless laugh, holding zion closer as you look at the man who is both your beginning and your forever.

“jungkook,” you manage, your voice thick, barely more than a whisper. “how do i even… how do i follow that?”

the room chuckles softly, a few sniffles heard from the crowd, but you barely notice as you take a step closer to jungkook. his gaze pulls you in, that warmth surrounding you.

“i’ll start off by saying… everyone knows jungkook’s guilty pleasure is twilight, right?”

a few gasps are heard, and jungkook’s eyes widen in mock horror.

“honey—”

“so i’ll say this: for every second, every memory, every joy, and every heartache… i choose you too… because, honey, no measure of time with you will ever be long enough, but we’ll start with forever.”

jungkook chuckles, a deep blush spreading across his cheeks. it’s a mix of embarrassment and unmistakable affection lighting up his face. even though he’s trying to fight it, you can see that your words have touched him, and it makes you smile.

your voice wavers, and you pause, catching his gaze one last time. “and i believe in that forever of ours��more than i ever believed in anything.”

as the last words leave your lips, you see the pink flush deepen across jungkook’s cheeks. the surprise in his eyes melts into that soft, adoring smile—the one reserved just for you. the room is silent for a beat, as if everyone is letting the moment settle in, before they break into applause, a few playful whistles cutting through the warm atmosphere.

then hobi calls out, “light your candles and blow them out! zion’s drooling already!”

laughter erupts, and you find yourself laughing too, the joy of the moment infectious.

holding zion close, you turn to the cake, the soft glow of the candles flickering across your face. jungkook lights them for you, and for a brief second, you close your eyes, making a wish. the room hums as everyone sings you happy birthday.

with a gentle breath, you blow out the candles, and the room erupts into cheers and applause. voices ring with love and laughter. zion giggles in your arms, clapping his small hands in excitement, his face beaming with pride as he looks up at you. you kiss his cheek, smiling through your own laughter.

jungkook leans over, slipping his arm around your waist, and presses a tender kiss to your temple.

“what’d you wish for, mama?” he asks softly, his voice low and full of warmth.

“oh… you know,” you sigh, leaning into his embrace. “forever.”

[jezebelblues]

in body and blood | preview

a preview | i’m still undecided if i’m posting this as a one shot or mini series. either way, i should be posting it early this evening :)

over a century adrift in darkness, he found his sun—not in the dawn, but in the quiet fire of her love, a light fierce enough to bind even eternity.

pt. i posted here

November seventh, 1701

"You don't talk much, do you?" she asked lightly, glancing up at him with a faint smile.

He seemed caught off guard, as if no one had spoken to him so directly in a very long time. "I suppose not," he replied, his voice soft, deliberate. "Words are powerful things. I find I prefer to spend them sparingly."

She tilted her head, giving him a playful look.

"That sounds like something from an old book," she teased. "Is it isolation that makes you so mysterious, or were you born this way?"

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and for a brief moment, she saw something almost like amusement in his eyes. "Perhaps both," he murmured. "Though... solitude does have a way of changing a man."

She paused, her fingers trailing over a branch heavy with dark berries. She plucked a particularly plump blackcurrant from the branch, turning to him with a gentle smile. "Here," she mumbled, holding it out to him, her eyes warm with invitation. "When they're this fat, they're sweetest."

Harry looked at the fruit in her outstretched hand, caught off guard by the simple kindness of the gesture. His first instinct was to decline-he hadn't tasted real food in decades, perhaps, and he knew it held no nourishment for him. But there was something disarming about the way she offered it, her expression so open, so untroubled.

After a moment's hesitation, he reached out, taking the berry between his fingers with a careful reverence, as though it were some fragile, precious thing. Her smile widened, encouraging, and he felt an odd warmth in his chest, a soft flicker of gratitude he couldn't quite name.

He raised the berry to his lips, his movements slow and cautious, and bit into it, feeling the skin break, the sweet, tart juice spilling out onto his tongue. It startled him, the vivid taste— a burst of life he hadn't felt in so long. The juice dribbled from his bottom lip, trailing down his chin, vivid against the pale of his skin.

He lifted a hand, instinctively wiping at the juice, but she was watching him, and something in her gaze halted him. Her expression held an odd fascination, her eyes lingering on the stain of the berry's juice against his mouth. He didn't miss the faint flush of color that rose in her cheeks, and for a moment, he realized how he must look-like a man caught between two worlds, part of him still bound to something dark and ancient.

A faint, bemused smile tugged at his lips, though there was a somber edge to it. "It seems I’ve forgotten my manners," he murmured, his voice colored by the faintest trace of self-deprecating humor, as though he were acknowledging a truth neither of them could fully understand. "It's... sweet," he managed, dabbing at his lip awkwardly, a bit startled by the mess. His tone was laced with a hint of embarrassment, his reserve cracked just slightly.

She held back a laugh, feeling an odd fondness for the way he seemed so out of place in such a simple act. "They tend to do that," she said gently, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "It's just a berry, after all."

He looked at her, his gaze catching on hers, and for a moment, his expression softened, a hint of something warmer slipping through his guarded exterior. "Just a berry," he repeated quietly, as if the words held some meaning only he understood.

[joocomics]

ಬ different kind of normal

pairing: idol!taehyun x fem!reader

genre: angst, smut — mdni! wc: 1.7k

contains: situationship, reunion sex, sub!reader, slight hint of dumbification, slight dacryphilia, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, reader is emotional and cries during sex, not a happy ending (?)

a/n: this has been sitting in the drafts since august and it’s finally seeing the light of day. cannot believe such angsty smut is happening on joocomics, tbh i don’t think i’ll be writing anything similar anytime soon phew it was tricky and i realised that i need my happy endings. but i wanted to try smth new, i really hope you enjoy it </3 sometimes you just need a kim taehyun to numb your emotions

You go down the familiar stairs and walk into the bar. It’s loud, lit by the usual dim yellow-ish lights, the scent of alcohol and skin is covering every corner, wrapping around your silhouette.

Your eyes observe the place to search for him and it doesn’t take long to find him - he’s sitting on your usual spot which is distanced from every other table; it feels intimate and secluded.

None of the people who visit this bar know who he is, nor do they know you, and sitting on this specific table every time you see each other only enhances the feeling you get in these moments - like you and him are the only people existing in this place and time.

“Taehyun,” you greet him at once.

You haven’t said his name out loud in so long. You’re not allowed to talk about him to anyone; not that you want to anyway, you want to keep him to yourself though it feels nice to be able to roll it off your tongue again. It feels freeing, especially in his presence.

Maybe he missed hearing his name in your voice, because his eyes smile at the sound before he even turns to face you. The letters ring nicely, like his name is something he can feel caressing his skin when you’re the one saying it.

“You’re here.” He automatically leans forward after you sit down next to him; the usual gravitational force that always pulls you together is another thing he was anticipating to experience again.

His one arm goes over your shoulders and the sudden warmth enveloping you makes your knees weak. The truth is, they were already weak from the steps you had to take to reach your table, but now they feel like they’re about to melt.

Being so close to him months later feels like it’s your first date all over again. You hate it and love it all at the same time.

“I just ordered your favorite,” he says and you can hear the slight note of pride in his smooth voice.

His hair is covered from a black cap which he eventually takes off before running a hand through his hair; it grabs your attention with a new color that you haven’t seen him with in person before.

You point out the obvious fact about how he still remembers your order as you take a minute to observe the attractive features that make up the face you learned to love.

“Of course I do,” he simply replies, leaning in for a kiss.

The first kiss after three and a half months. It feels so exciting and electrifying, just like the very first one you had a year ago, but at the same time it feels familiar too - like you’re reminiscing on a comforting memory you haven’t looked back on for a while.

His hand slides up your thigh, then travels up your hip only to sneak in discreetly beneath your shirt, sending you pleasant shockwaves. Soon enough he breaks the kiss though, careful not to bring any unnecessary attention on you.

“Next month I’m gonna have a week off.” Taehyun speaks up after a moment of silence between the two of you. After a sip of his beer, he continues: “I was thinking that you can come visit me if you want.”

Yes… Yes. You do. You want to scream it out loud. But the only thing you do is breathe in, staring inside the cup of your cocktail; trying to force yourself to speak before your mind turns blank.

“You don’t need to worry about money,” he adds as he shifts his gaze to you, hopeful and anticipating of your response. “It’s all on me, baby.”

There it is - the reminder you needed before giving any answers. His money, his fame. His life that’s so unfitting to yours. The pink balloon you found yourself in for a moment as he shared about his plan, tempting you to naively build dreams about your one week together, it pops, and brings you back to the harsh reality.

“Tae…” You shake head, “no matter what we do or tell each other we can’t be normal.”

Taehyun’s brows furrow at your choice of word.

Normal.

“This has to end at some point, I don’t think we should complicate things any further… as we’ve already said before.” You exhale deeply after blurting out the things you’ve been practicing on your way here. He didn’t hear the sound that escaped your lips because of the music mixed with the chatter, but if he did, he’d have known that saying all of this cost you an immense amount of energy.

You don’t glance at him even once, but Taehyun on the other hand can’t stop staring at you like he’s in some sort of a bad dream that’ll end soon if he’s patient enough.

“Right, right…” He nods, finally able to force his eyes somewhere else. He peers down at his hands on the table that begin to tap nervously at the wooden surface, sharing almost the same rhythm as his heartbeat. “You’re right, that’s the wisest thing to do.”

You know it is, but hearing him agree turns out to be more painful than you expect.

For the best, this has to end soon, you remind yourself. Maybe not tonight, but tomorrow.

“I missed you,” Taehyun rises your body temperature through raspy whispers and open mouthed kisses which he scatters onto your skin almost in a rush; as if you’re going to disappear from his hands if he dares to slow down. “Missed you so fuckin’ much...”

His soft lips trace a path from your neck down to your cleavage and soon enough he’s even lower, running his tongue against your stomach before kissing that area sensually too. The slight moisture slipping from the corners of his mouth in addition to the delicate sucks makes you shudder as he simultaneously tugs on your underwear.

“Missed this sweet pussy too,” he invites his fingers into your walls effortlessly. His gaze focuses upon your lips and how they open for a silent gasp as he glides through with ease because of your already collected arousal. “Did she miss me?”

While anticipating an answer, Taehyun swirls his tongue inside his mouth before letting a string of saliva fall right onto your clit; he smears it all over your folds, provoking your thighs to open even wider for him.

“Tae—“ You arch spine, emphasising your need for something more than this lingering rush that’s growing in a pace that’s not quite enough for how much you ache for his touch right now. “Please…”

“I think she did.” A lustful spark shimmers in his eyes as his hand maintains its delicate motions. The movements make you moan every time his fingertips reach your sensitive bundle of nerves before slipping back down again. “Say it.”

At once he meets your eyes as his frame eventually hovers over your naked flushed body.

Your hands relax on his broad shoulders as your focus fixates on his face. Hopefully there’s not as much pain into your eyes as there is in your heart in this moment. You don’t want him to know how much exactly you’re actually hurting.

“I missed you every day,” you whisper softly as your noses touch; your mouths search for each other, thirsty for the other’s taste even more now. When you feel his hand guiding his cock to your entrance your breathing catches, but you still manage to repeat it. “Of course, I missed you.”

The second he hears your words, Taehyun crashes his lips against your mouth. Because he cannot bare hearing this one more time or because he enjoys the sound of it too much - he’s not able to tell.

As he leads the kiss swiftly your legs wrap loosely around his hips and your warm walls immediately squeeze onto him as he quickens the pace, eager to make up for all the time you were away from each other.

“Fuck—“ He grunts at the growing pleasure that he reminisced about night after night before breathing out against your neck: “Finally… I swear to god nobody else can make me feel this way.”

His voice, husky and domineering despite his on going confessions, echoes in your fuzzy mind. Although you shouldn’t, you put in all the effort you can into memorising each word he says; you hold onto it tightly as the continuous thrusts gradually turn more rigid and sharp causing your nails to sink into his shoulder blades. However, as amazing the buzzing sweet wave inside you feels, you cannot suppress the sadness that’s about to overpower you first.

You swallow another failed attempt to fight back the bitter emotion, but you can feel it lingering everywhere - in your heart, inside your stomach, on your tongue once he slows down his hips to grip your face, and inside your throat that feels like it’s closing up.

“Why are you crying?”

Taehyun peers into your eyes that are sparkling at him with a bittersweet emotion which he hasn’t gotten used to seeing inside them. His gaze lowers to your puffy lips, trembling as they separate with hesitation.

“I… I don’t know what’s gotten to me, sorry,” your arms wrap tighter to pull him closer. His thumb caressing your wet cheek only makes it worse for you. “Please, k-keep going.”

“Sweetheart,” he whispers under his breath as he fulfills your wish by resuming his thrusts - more forcefully though to distract you from the sorrow, “I’ll make it go away now, okay? Focus on me, baby.”

You grasp his shoulders while the delight starts to numb your mind with each intense push of his cock. The hits against your sweet spot are fast and strong enough to weaken your memory right away.

“There you go,” Taehyun’s pants blend with your whimpers ringing beneath him as the tears on your skin begin to dry. “Such pretty eyes, look at me, love.”

Something about seeing you cry for the first time made his heart clench, and now his mind fogs up, leaving him with only one goal - to make you cum as many times as possible so you can’t think of anything for the rest of the night.

Right now, he’d erase every single thought from your brain if he knows he’s capable of doing so.

The moment he feels you’re tightening up Taehyun’s eyes open so he doesn’t miss out on one flinch of yours.

“Yeah, I’m here, baby,” he murmus, trying to keep moving forward while your peak lasts, causing you to quiver beneath his frame. “Let go, baby, I’m right here.”

Yes, he’s here, and tomorrow morning he’s still going to be here, but you’ll be gone, because this time if he tries to stop you like all the previous times, you’re not going to look back.

But for now, you and Taehyun are close as you’ve never been before.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[iris-qt]

𝚙𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚎

"You look so pretty and I love this view"

ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

✧ ʙɢ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ: ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ!

✧ ᴀ/ɴ: ᴍʏ ʙʀɪᴇꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴇʙᴀᴄᴋ…ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ ʟᴀᴛᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴘᴜᴍᴘᴋɪɴ ᴄᴀʀᴠɪɴɢ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏʟᴏ!!

✧ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏ ᴀᴛ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ;)…ᴘᴜᴍᴘᴋɪɴ ᴄᴀʀᴠɪɴɢ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇᴍ.

If there was one thing everyone knew about Theodore Nott, it was that his competitive streak ran deep.

He approached academics like a battlefield, where every grade was a victory and every mistake a personal challenge to overcome. He didn’t just strive to pass; he needed to be the best, to outscore everyone in the class. Even if it meant late nights and meticulous notes scrawled in his precise handwriting. 

On the Quidditch field, Theodore Nott’s competitiveness sharpened to a ruthless edge. He trained with the same intensity he brought to academics, believing that every extra drill, every late practice, could be the difference between victory and defeat. For Theodore, losing was never an option.

And that is how we find him at the verge of pulling his soft brown hair out of his scalp, four strawberry-themed bandages on his fingers. 

You’d told him multiple times that you two could just stop. There was no need to go on and potentially lose a finger in the process.

But he refused because, truth be told, perhaps his competitive streak was partially… ok mostly just to impress you. His sweet girl.

Theodore clenched his jaw, staring down at the pumpkin, now bearing more accidental gashes and lopsided cuts than any real design. Yet, he shot you a determined, almost defiant look.

“You know, we don’t have to keep going,” you said gently, trying not to laugh at the orange massacre before him. “We could stop before the pumpkin looks more like it got mauled than carved.”

But he shook his head, that stubborn half-smile crossing his face. “I’m not stopping until I get it right.”

You stifled a laugh, trying to keep your expression supportive as he took another determined, if slightly shaky, stab at the pumpkin. You could see the frustration mixed with pride in his eyes, the way he bit his lip as he carved. 

“It doesn’t have to be perfect,” you said, brushing some pumpkin guts and seeds from his cheek. “You’re still amazing, pumpkin disaster and all.”

He glanced at you, cheeks coloring slightly, then quickly returned his focus to the pumpkin. “Maybe. But I’d like to be amazing and get this pumpkin to look like an actual face,” he muttered.

With a sigh, you watched him struggle on, a little amused, a little exasperated, but mostly feeling that familiar warmth at his focused eyes, his brown locks falling in front of them.

With a final, triumphant jab, Theodore stepped back, squinting at the pumpkin as if daring it to mock his efforts. He studied it with a critical eye, then turned to you, a glint of mischief flashing in his gaze.

"There," he announced, attempting a proud, nonchalant tone despite the wreckage of his masterpiece. “I carved your face. My muse.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing between him and the pumpkin, which sported a crooked smile, one eye bigger than the other, and an overall lopsided charm. You couldn’t hold back your laugh this time. “My face? Are you saying I look like… that?”

“Precisely,” he replied with a smirk, crossing his arms as if he’d achieved some great artistic feat. “But only the best features. See? The soulful eyes. The charmingly crooked smile. It’s all there.”

You shook your head, grinning. “So I’m your muse for… horrifying pumpkin carving?”

“Exactly,” he said, trying to suppress a laugh of his own. “A true masterpiece, thanks to you.”

He reached out, fingers brushing yours, his expression softening. “You know, maybe I should make a full-body pumpkin carving of you next time...”

You raise an eyebrow at his mischievous expression.

"You'd have to get naked for that one though."

You push him away teasingly as he laughs enveloping you in a bear hug as you playfully try to fight it.

He presses kisses into your hair, and for once, his competitive streak seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you, laughing over his terrible pumpkin and the sweetness behind it.

[rootedinrevisions]

In the Wings: Part 7

SUMMARY: As the final day of filming wraps, Glen takes a chance and asks you to be his date to the cast and crew’s wrap party. Dressed to impress, you both arrive together, careful to keep things discreet—at least at first. But as the night progresses, it’s harder to hide the growing connection between you. A shared dance on the floor, lingering touches, and knowing glances from friends make it clear: something special is blossoming between you and Glen.

OTHER PARTS: PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3 I PART 4 I PART 5 I

PART 6

WARNINGS: Implied alcohol consumption. Otherwise just fluff.

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

The hair and makeup trailer is a quiet refuge as the last day on set winds down. You’re tidying up your station, placing brushes in their designated slots, and wiping down surfaces. There’s a bittersweet feeling in the air; it’s been an intense few weeks, and while you’re proud of the work you’ve done, a part of you is reluctant to see it end.

Just as you’re finishing up, you hear the door open, and your pulse quickens when you see Glen stepping inside. He’s still in his flight suit, hair tousled from the day’s scenes, with that familiar, easy grin that seems to brighten the room.

“Hey,” he says, closing the door behind him and leaning casually against the counter. “Got a minute?”

You nod, smiling as you tuck a few stray tools back into your kit. “What’s up?”

“Tom and the producers are throwing a wrap party tonight. Rented out a restaurant for the cast and crew.” He pauses, his gaze holding yours a little longer than usual. “I was wondering if you’d want to go with me.”

A soft smile forms on your lips. “Like… as your date?”

Glen’s grin widens, his eyes sparkling with that mischievous glint you’ve come to know so well. He nods. “Yeah. Exactly like that.”

You don’t even need to think about your answer. “I’d love to.”

He steps closer, that playful look softening as he gazes down at you. “Perfect,” he murmurs, and before you know it, he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. The warmth of his touch and the light pressure of his lips make you forget everything else for a moment.

When he pulls back, he’s still smiling, his fingers lingering near yours. “I’ll pick you up at six.”

* * * *

The hotel room is quiet as you stand in front of the mirror, putting the final touches on your makeup. You smooth down the fabric of your dress—a simple but elegant piece you’d packed, just in case. The soft, flattering lines and deep color bring a touch of glamour that feels perfect for tonight.

As you swipe on a final layer of lipstick, a knock sounds at the door. Heart fluttering, you cap the lipstick and head over to answer. When you open the door, there stands Glen, leaning casually with a warm smile. His outfit—a pair of gray dress pants and a fitted black button-up shirt—compliments his relaxed confidence, and there’s an appreciative gleam in his eye as he looks you over.

“Wow,” he says, letting his gaze linger. “You look stunning. That dress suits you.”

You feel a blush creep up, smiling back as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Thank you,” you murmur. “You clean up pretty nicely yourself.”

He chuckles, his eyes twinkling. “Shall we?” He motions towards the hallway with a little nod, stepping aside so you can lead the way. You gather your small clutch and step out, feeling a flutter of excitement as he falls into step beside you. 

* * * *

The restaurant buzzes with the sounds of laughter and conversation, as cast and crew mingle in small groups throughout the softly lit space. You and Glen step inside, the warmth and lively atmosphere instantly welcoming you in. Heads turn your way, and you’re aware of a few knowing glances exchanged between people as you both walk through the entrance together. Even though there’s no hand-holding or any outward display of affection, the energy between you and Glen seems to say it all.

Glen catches a few of those looks and smirks, clearly amused, but he doesn’t let on as he leans close and murmurs, “I’m going to grab a drink. You want anything?”

You tell him your order, a casual smile exchanged as he nods and makes his way to the bar, blending into the crowd with ease. 

As he goes, you take a breath, willing yourself to stay composed despite the subtle attention. It feels surreal to be here with him like this, even if things are still discreet.

Spotting a group of your colleagues from the hair and makeup team near the far side of the room, you make your way over to them. They greet you with warm smiles, already in the middle of discussing the wrap party and the relief of finally reaching the end of a long, demanding shoot.

One of them nudges you playfully. “You and Glen, huh?” she teases, raising an eyebrow.

You manage to keep your smile relaxed, laughing it off. “Oh, we just rode over together,” you reply casually. “Just figured we’d save on an extra ride, you know?”

They nod knowingly, exchanging glances with one another, but they don’t press the subject further. You’re grateful for that. You settle into the conversation, chatting and catching up, feeling yourself start to unwind. Across the room, you catch sight of Glen waiting at the bar, glancing back your way with a small smile that makes your heart skip.

It’s a small, private look just between the two of you—one that makes you feel like the only two people in the room, even if you’re playing it low-key for now.

Glen weaves through the crowd with two glasses in hand, his gaze focused on you. When he reaches your side, he hands you your drink with a warm smile, his fingers brushing yours briefly. You murmur a thank you, taking a sip as he joins the small circle of your coworkers.

With that effortless charm, he thanks the hair and makeup team, nodding to each of them with genuine appreciation. “Really, we couldn’t have done any of this without you,” he says, glancing around at everyone. “The work you all do—the attention to detail, the early mornings—it’s all part of what makes everything come together.”

One of them, Linda, nudges you with a teasing smile, saying, “Well, we’ll miss you too, Glen. It’s a shame filming’s wrapped up. We won’t be able to keep you looking so good on set anymore.” Her eyes flick between you and Glen with a hint of suggestion, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

Glen doesn’t miss a beat. He chuckles, glancing sideways at you. You feel a slight blush rise to your cheeks, unable to suppress a smile as Glen’s gaze lingers on you a moment longer. 

Your colleagues exchange a few sly glances among themselves, clearly picking up on the connection between you and Glen. And while you’re careful to keep things discreet, there’s something thrilling in the unspoken understanding between the two of you.

Just as you and Glen exchange a glance, a voice over the restaurant’s speakers announces that dinner is about to be served. People begin shuffling toward their tables, glancing at place cards to find their seats. Glen leans toward you, just close enough so only you can hear him over the chatter.

“I’ll catch up with you later?” he says softly, his eyes holding yours with a quiet warmth.

You smile, giving him a small nod. “I’ll be here.”

With a grin, he heads off toward the cast table, joining Miles, Lewis, and a few others who are already joking and laughing, welcoming him over with waves and claps on the shoulder. You watch him for just a second, a faint flutter of excitement lingering, before making your way over to your own table with the hair, makeup, and costume team.

Sliding into your seat, you’re greeted with smiles and friendly chatter, everyone buzzing with excitement as the celebratory energy of the evening settles in. You settle into the familiar warmth of your friends and colleagues, sharing stories of the production and laughs over some of the more chaotic days on set, but there’s an undeniable thrill in knowing that, across the room, Glen is watching for his chance to find you again.

As the dinner plates are cleared away and laughter fills the room, the soft background music fades, replaced by something more upbeat. You’re in the middle of a lighthearted conversation at your table when someone clears their throat behind you. Turning, you see Glen standing there, hands in his pockets, his usual grin lighting up his face. He nods toward the makeshift dance floor where a few couples have already started to sway to the music.

“Care to dance?” he asks, his voice soft but playful.

You glance around the room, a mix of excitement and uncertainty washing over you. Your eyes dart to the people still lingering at their tables, wondering if this is a good idea, but Glen catches your hesitation and chuckles, leaning in closer.

“Come on,” he coaxes, his voice low. “Just one dance.”

You feel your heart skip, a smile tugging at your lips as you give a small nod. “Alright. Just one.”

He reaches out, and you slide your hand into his, feeling his fingers close gently around yours as he leads you over to the dance floor. The room fades slightly as he turns to face you, one hand slipping to your waist, the other still holding your hand. You’re close, but just enough to keep it innocent. As you move together, the song fills the air, each beat pulling you a little closer to him, and you can’t help but let out a small, contented laugh as he guides you in time with the music.

“See?” he murmurs, glancing down at you with a soft, teasing smile. “Not so bad, is it?”

You shake your head, the laughter still in your voice. “Not bad at all.”

For a moment, it’s just the two of you, and the rest of the room falls away—nothing but Glen’s steady gaze, his hand at your waist, and the gentle sway of the music surrounding you.

As the upbeat song fades into a slower, softer melody, Glen’s arm around your waist tightens just a bit, gently pulling you closer. You feel his chest press against yours, the warmth between you deepening as he bridges the last small gap. Instinctively, your head falls to his shoulder, and for a second, you let yourself melt into the quiet, intimate moment.

But as you open your eyes, you catch sight of a few colleagues at the edge of the dance floor, glancing over with raised eyebrows and soft, knowing smiles. A wave of nervousness ripples through you, and you lift your head, glancing up at Glen, who’s still looking at you with a gentle, contented smile.

“People are watching,” you murmur, searching his eyes.

He lets out a quiet, almost mischievous chuckle, his gaze steady. “I know,” he replies, unfazed, his voice low and calm.

You hesitate, studying his expression. “Aren’t you worried?”

He shakes his head slowly, still holding you close, his thumb brushing gently over your back. “Not really,” he says, the warmth in his eyes sincere. “I’ve spent half of filming pretending like I don’t want to be this close to you. Now, I just want to enjoy spending time with you.”

The conviction in his words settles any lingering nerves you have, and a smile finds its way onto your face. With the music wrapping around you, you let yourself sink back into the dance, resting your head against his shoulder once more. This time, you don’t care about the glances or whispers; it’s just you and Glen, lost in the music, letting the rest of the room fade away.

As the night winds down, you find yourself caught up in a lively conversation with Miles Teller and his wife, Keleigh. Miles is recounting some of his favorite memories from the shoot, and Keleigh is laughing, chiming in with her own playful commentary. You’re fully immersed in the moment when you suddenly feel a warm hand on the small of your back. Before you can react, an arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into a familiar embrace. You glance up and see Glen beside you, a soft smile on his face.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice gentle as he nods toward the door. “You ready to head out?”

You smile back, a warmth spreading through you as you nod. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

You both turn to say your goodbyes to Miles and Keleigh, who give you knowing smiles as they wave you off. Miles raises his glass in a silent toast, and Keleigh winks, her gaze flicking between you and Glen.

Glen reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as he leads you out of the party. As you step out into the night, the hum of the party fades behind you, leaving just the quiet sounds of the city around you. Glen glances down, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand as he holds it tightly.

Walking side by side, there’s a feeling of contentment, a quiet excitement that lingers between you. With every step, you feel the weight of the evening’s shared glances, the unspoken promises, and the joy of finally being able to enjoy each other’s company openly. As you head back to the hotel together, it feels like the perfect end to the night—and the beginning of something even better.

[kingofbodyrolls]

Perfect Strangers (m) | jhs | teaser

When buying a book leads to a lot more than Hoseok thought possible 🌨️ 📍 Dropping on the 9th of December 2024 [gift 2/5] ✨ 🎁 peek at your gifts under the Christmas tree [link] 🎁 peek at the spoiler [text messages] 🎁 Teaser under the cut ⬇️

You blink, taken by surprise, and a laugh escapes as you say, “I don’t even know your name,” your tone light, not saying no, but letting him know you’re curious, open to this unexpected invitation. “Ah, right—my bad,” he says, stretching his hand toward you with a shy smile. “I’m Hoseok. And you?” You take his hand, his warmth surprising you, and you giggle, “It’s Y/N,” you reply, your voice soft, the sound of your name feeling different in the warmth of his gaze. “Y/N,” he repeats, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “Pretty name,” he murmurs, and you can’t help but feel the faintest hint of flirtation woven in his words, though there’s still a nervousness in his eyes. Then he takes a small breath and adds, “Just to clarify,” he hesitates, his voice wavering with a hint of uncertainty, “you’d be going as my girlfriend. Well, my fake girlfriend.” He chuckles nervously, almost wincing at his own words. “I mean—if you’re good with that?” The words hang in the air between you, unexpected and just a bit surreal. Fake girlfriend? You blink, caught off guard, studying his face as he scratches the back of his neck, stammering slightly, realizing, perhaps, the absurdity of it all. “I told my friends I’d be bringing my girlfriend,” he explains, his cheeks coloring, “but, well… I don’t actually have one.” There’s something so earnest, so endearingly awkward about him that you can’t help but smile. And before you know it, you hear yourself saying, “Yeah, sure. I’d love to be your fake girlfriend.” The words come easily, and even though you’ve only seen him once in your bookstore, something in his gaze feels steady, genuine. Maybe it’s a leap, but you’ve always trusted your instincts, and right now they’re telling you he’s worth it. If this brings him a little joy in the midst of whatever shadows he’s facing, you’re happy to oblige.

Want to join the series taglist? Just leave a comment that you want to be added, and you’ll be notified when the story is published 🎁

[tetzoro]

˖˙ ꔫ — A STARRY SKY AND HOPEFUL EYE

꒰ synopsis ꒱ : nightly routines revolve around keeping watch with zoro, but today is extra special as you get to start his birthday off right with an intimate moment and a special gift.

꒰ contents ꒱ : zoro roronoa x reader ; alcohol mention. elements of hurt/comfort, tooth rotting fluff + filled with love. — WC : 1133

happy birthday zoro ♥︎

“I'm here, don’t be afraid. I won't let anything happen to you.” A familiar, gravelly tone pierces through the thick fog of fear that was slowly consuming you. Zoro’s voice was every bit of him as ever — strong, driven, confident, protective.

It serves as a reassuring melody that tugs on your delicate heartstrings, commanding the attention that you so readily give. A gentle reminder that you’re secure in his arms and safely tucked away from the winds of change and everything else that the Sunny is drifting past.

But it held a serene tenderness that would only surface when the two of you were alone and under the stars, sailing across the open sea where the only witness to your love was the pearly moon that dreamily hung overhead.

You hum softly as you begin to fully wake, feeling the words rumble from his chest and caress your back, soothing all of your fleeting worries away. Zoro had a gift when it came to chasing away demons, a renowned hunter that would protect you from anything that dare brought you harm.

“‘m sorry.” You pivot a little, readjusting yourself to nestle into him better. “I didn't mean to fall asleep.”

“What did I say about apologizing?” He roughly gruffs out, a direct juxtaposition to the careful way he was cradling you. “Another nightmare?”

“They come and they go.” The fear of the dream subsides as you take in the night that beautifully envelops you both. 

The stars begin to unveil themselves, gleams of hope scattered across the inky black sky. The sun had long since gone to rest but the night prevails as the two of you keep a watchful eye.

The vibrant colors that once bathed the sky in orange and pink hues were now stripped back without the comfort of the sun. 

Keeping watch was a task you and Zoro would often face together. The norm was that each person would take two hours to complete their shift but overtime, yours had blended together. From the birth of midnight into the early cusps of the morning, this little cozy corner of the world was yours.

Countless times you’ve found solace in each other’s quiet wakes. Words would come far and few in between in favor of soaking up the comforting presence that bloomed whenever you were together. 

Even still, the whispered exchanges were something that never failed to fill you with warmth in spite of the desolate chill of night.

“Get some rest. I'll make sure they don’t come back.” Zoro’s lips faintly brush against your temple in an attempt to ease your troubled mind. Everyone fell victim to the darkness that plagues dreams and he knew all too well the toll they could take.

“I wanna stay up with you.” The looming winter breeze glazes over your face, kissing along your skin in such a way that has you huddling to the source of warmth that surrounds you. “It's your birthday so I want to savor as much time with you as I can before the others wake up.” A pause. “Besides, I got you a little present.”

Zoro shifts a little so he has a clear view of your face, sharp gaze set on you. Mirth swims in his steely eye as he makes contact, lips twitching heavenward.

“A present, huh? Is that why you locked yourself in the crows nest yesterday?” It was true, you had shooed everyone away from the room under the guise of training. But Zoro knew better — you’d never deny him the chance to train with you but he didn’t push it, opting to train on the deck instead.

“Maybe….” You trail off, smiling sheepishly before sliding off of his lap to reach for the gift you had stowed away earlier. The shimmering moon provided enough light for you to see, casting a luminous glow that blankets you both in a loving embrace, glittering with an ethereal magic that only the depths of night could merit.

“You gonna show me or what?” He smirks, his face closer to yours as you settle back in front of him. You nuzzle his nose with the tip of your own, an act of affection he’s grown used to over the time you’ve been together.

Silently, you hand him the small box and your heart thumps viciously against your chest. He opens the tiny, yet neat packaging and is quiet for a moment as he examines what lays within. 

In the box was a carefully leather braided bracelet with a singular bead woven in.

“You like it?” You falter for a moment. Before he can answer, you begin to nervously ramble. “I tucked my vivre card in the bead. That way if we’re ever apart, we can always find each other again.”

There's another pause and the only thing you can hear is your heart screaming for relief as it pounds against the cage of your ribs. Like clockwork, it eases back down as Zoro's face glimmers with an expression you hardly see, one that’s reserved for you during your most intimate moments.

“Hell yeah I like it.” Zoro's cheeks blossom into a soft pink, calloused thumb gliding over the textured leather. His voice becomes nothing but a fresh breath of air. “This is special.”

“It’s…” The word ‘nothing’ escapes you because it couldn’t be further from the truth. It means everything to you. Plus, he’d only chastise you for downplaying such a thing. “Good, I'm glad you do.”

“Put it on me.” Zoro demands, pulling you up into his lap. You hold onto his hand and gently wrap the bracelet around, the pads of your fingers trailing along his skin and he has to hold back a shudder. With a few simple motions, you tighten it so it’s secure and snug but not too much. 

The sunless sky shines again as Zoro smiles at the gift, the light warming you from the inside out and chasing away the chill of night.

“Thank you.” Zoro wraps his arm around your waist, nuzzling his face against your cheek and leaving a kiss there in his wake.

“Of course.” Tension rolls off of your shoulders with the acceptance he so readily gives you. All day, anxiety flooded your veins and took the breath from your lungs as you tried your best to make the perfect gift for him. You even went as far as — “Oh! I almost forgot. I got you something in case you didn’t like it.”

Zoro makes a noise of protest but it almost immediately dies out as he sees you pull his favorite brand of sake out from where you hid it — comically wrapped up in a pink bow.

“Well I'd never say no to this.” He lets out a puff of amusement, taking the bottle from your hand and opening it with ease. “What do you say? Up to share a little drink with the birthday boy?”

“Duh.” A giggle spills from your lips as you watch him hide his smirk with the neck of the bottle, taking a healthy swig. Some of the sake drips down from the corner of his mouth in which you easily scoop it up with your finger, bringing it to your own lips to clean it off. 

He leans in to give you a sweet, sake infused kiss. The slight burn of the alcohol dies down as his eager tongue swipes along your bottom lip, soothing the flames away and drenching you in adoration.

In a few hours, the rest of the crew would wake and who knows what they had planned for Zoro. But right now, with the stars as your only witnesses, this moment was for just the two of you. 

And Zoro couldn’t imagine a better way to start his day than having his favorite person in his lap, a bottle of sake in his hand, and the warmth of love that buries itself into his heart when he looks at the gift you made him.

thank you so much for reading ( ྀི∩˃ ᵕ ˂∩) i hope you enjoyed ! ♥︎

[cocofawn]

∯ 𓏲𝄢 𓍢ִ 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒, 𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝑒 . .

they asked “do you love her to death ?” i said, “speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life.”

๑ —ㅤ󠀠󠀠󠀠 ⌒ ⠀ׁ⠀two halves of a whole ₊ ˙ . he ᭪ her ︎︎︎︎ . 󠀠󠀠󠀠⌒ since nov. fourth.

what does it look like . . ? “sweet-face !” ノ “princess.” fawn x wolverine . cheerful puppy x grumpy cat . sun x moon . partners -> lovers . opposites attract . gentle innocence x rugged strength . a domesticity so beautiful that it transcends most beautiful of fantasies . adoring gazes . non-sexual intimacy . gentle caresses and affectionate touches dished out by the most fragile hands and received by the roughest fingers . the scruff of a coarse beard rubbing against a petal-soft cheek . playful banter . tender laughter . the palette of sweet pinks, warm browns ‘n musky greens . boots x babydolls . tousled sheets ‘n languid kisses . love letters tucked away tew be discovered at a later date for when the rain dulls his day . tangled limbs . mumbles of confessions between the spaces of mere breaths . hand-written compositions of music woven together so as tew create da most blissful of symphonies just for him . . + so much more . .

“he is the night sky, a canvas so wide, a vast expanse where the lonely stars hide. a sea of solitude, cold and alone, once empty and still, with no heart of his own. she is the golden sun, a radiant light, a warmth that brings color to the cloak of the night. with every soft sunrise, she chases the dark, painting the shadows with her luminous spark. together they dance, in a cosmic embrace, the night and the day, in a timeless race. she completes his silence, makes the dark bearable, in the balance of worlds, their love is so shareable. for he is the night, and she is the dawn, in the tapestry of life, their spirits are drawn. a celestial union, where shadows take flight, in the harmony of love— day meets the night.”

[wynnibee]

A Walk in the Park

Hi @starriegalaxy I was your secret skeleton!! I apologize for it being so late, thank you for your patience ❤️ I hope you enjoy a little walk through the park with Eclipse!

Lovingly proofread and edited by @voidedtea

Word Count: ~2700

Oh, how you loved the fall.

The shorter days, the chilly nights — and of course, the beauty of the changing leaves. The bright reds and yellows contrasting sharp against the brilliant blue sky, the leaves dancing against the open air like the flames of a fire. You so loved to listen to their rustling in the autumn breeze, their falling to the ground of a soft whirlwind of color.

You listen to them crunch under your feet – a delightful sound accompanying your stroll through the park. Towering oaks and maples, lining the park’s path like silent guardians, had just begun to show their bare branches in the mid-autumn day. Their trunks' bases were blanketed in once-verdant leaves, all the more swirling down to join them. A few stray ones tumble and crinkle past your feet in the light breeze.

The park is lit by the sun overhead, its creeping across the sky slow as the day nears its end. That sun shines through what leaves still cling to their trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground. You relish in the warmth as you walk out from under them.

Passing into the shadow of that canopy again, a small chill runs up your arms despite your sweater’s warmth. You hold your arms closer to yourself in a hug, hoping to trap the last of what the sun's kiss could provide.

The park was so beautiful this time of year, you were surprised that it was practically empty. Most people didn't bother coming out when later afternoon slipped into evening. You couldn't complain though – you preferred to have a little alone time with your companion anyways.

Turning around, you smile at Eclipse, watching as he glances around the whole park. His gaze flits between the sky as a couple of crows pass overhead, to the rustle of leaves in their trees, to the ground where a squirrel scurries about before darting up a one such tree. He glances at all the leaves piled up on the ground, his head flicking towards every bit of movement or sound. Eclipse's normally wide smile looks unsteady, and his eyes are large as he takes in his surroundings.

You frown a little. You can't help but think that he looks nervous – or at least unsure. Maybe inviting him out was a bad idea? He mentioned a while ago that he'd never been outside before…

“Clippy?” you ask, tentative. Slowly, you make your way back towards him, having put a fair amount of distance between you both where he'd gotten distracted and fell behind you.

It takes Eclipse a few seconds to notice your approach. He seems reluctant to look down at you, struggling to tear his gaze away from the trees above. When his eyes do meet yours, though, he smiles in that soft, gentle way that always makes your heart melt.

“Yes, sweetness?” the large bot says in an even tone. His eyes are full of affection and you can't help the flush of your cheeks despite your concern. You take his long hands in your own, rubbing your thumbs along his palms.

“Are you okay? Is this too much?“ You begin to ramble, “I'm sorry for overwhelming you, I should've thought about that before I brought you out here- oh, if you want to go home we can, it's okay! I'm sure we can figure something else to do there, maybe watch a movie? Whatever you wanna do, it's fine with me, I just don't want you to be uncomfortable- what?”

You cut yourself off as Eclipse chuckles at you, his eyes alight with nothing but mirthful fondness. His hands had shifted to hold yours more securely during your ramble, and as you tilt your head back to look at him, his smile widens.

“I'm not uncomfortable at all, Angel-eyes. It's just a lot to take in all at once– there's so much movement and sound and color.” He pauses to look up at the trees again, before glancing back down at you. “You'd think after all that time in the daycare I would be used to all of...this.”

Eclipse gestures to your surroundings with one hand. You glance around again, suddenly aware of the richness to it all that had faded into the back of your mind.

“Is that a bad thing?“ you say carefully. You watch as Eclipse reaches up to snatch a leaf out of the air – a lovely bright red maple – before gently twisting and turning it in his hand. The Daycare Attendant admires the leaf, poring over every detail hidden in its red surface.

“Not at all, mousecake. In fact, I've never been so...awestruck by something like this before – with one exception.” His eyes lock with yours and you flush. “The colors are so beautiful. The reds and oranges and yellows and browns. It's a constant, never-ending rush of warmth. It's fascinating that the leaves used to be so green, but now they've changed with the autumn season. I don't think I've ever actually seen the changing of the seasons in anything but pictures.”

Eclipse gently tucks the maple behind your ear and into your hair, fussing with it slightly to keep it there. He lifts your hand that he's still holding in the air, slowly twirling you so that your back is pressed against his chassis. The puffy sleeves of his outfit crinkle against your sweater as his arms wrap around you. You feel his smile press into the top of your head.

“Just take a moment to close your eyes and listen,” he whispers against your hair. Sighing, you oblige and lean back into him. “What do you hear, love?”

You turn your focus to your surroundings once more, furrowing your brow slightly as you do. 

You can hear the trees rustling overhead. You hear crows cawing off to your left, leaves blowing across the ground to your right. The particular leaf tucked into your hair rattles slightly. Underneath it all, you can even hear the quiet tick, tick, tick of Eclipse's inner workings.

“I can hear...the crows, and the wind, and the leaves. I see what you mean about it all moving,” you smile. “I can hear you, too. I think that's my favorite sound of all.”

Eclipse laughs, the noise full of affection. His arms tighten around you, and you lean back further into them. “You can hear me, huh?”

“I can hear the ticking in your chassis, the whirring of your joints as you move,“ you whisper to him, “It's a steady rhythm, a tick tick tick, over and over. It sounds like a heartbeat. It's...comforting.“

The large robot hums behind you, the sound rumbling against your back. You respond in kind – as best you can, at least. You really could get lost in the ensuing harmony, a song only you and Eclipse can hear.

“You promise you're not uncomfortable, amor? We can leave if you want,” you say with what you hope is reassurance. The last thing you want is for Eclipse to think you're upset or disappointed. Your eyes are still closed while your head rests against his chassis.

“I promise,” he says, “I enjoy being out here and spending my time with you.“

”Alright, if you change your mind, just let me know.”

A chilly breeze whispers through the leaves with the promise of a cold night. You shiver, shifting in Eclipse's arms to rub your hands up and down your sweater sleeves, trying to chase away the goosebumps rising on your skin.

Opening your eyes at last, you look around the park once more from where you stand. The sun has drooped towards the horizon, reaching for its edge with flared coronal strands. The few clouds drifting above remind you of an artist's canvas, all the different textures and colors flowing away from the sinking sun like paint off a brush.

Golden rays of light stretch through the branches of the trees, illuminating the dull concrete of the path with stepping stones of liquid gold. The day was nearing its close, leaving you with only a couple hours before the night took over. You'd have to head home soon.

But — you didn’t want to leave just yet.

Turning round, you press your chest against Eclipse, tilt your head back to look him in the face. Your arms come to wrap around his waist, and his own arms adjust to settle around you from where they'd shifted when you turned.

Your cheeks flush when his eyes soften at you, adding to the redness on your face where the cold had begun to nip at your nose. Your eyes light up as an idea strikes. Your arms tighten around Eclipse as you begin to sway slow. He watches you curiously; you can feel his eyes dart around your face, a non-existent weight smoothing over your skin. You bat your lashes at your partner as you continue to sway, slowly pulling him into the movement with you.

It only takes a minute more before he catches on, an almost overjoyed smile stretching across his faceplate as he shifts his body to take one of your hands in his and places the other gently on your side. You attempt to put your arm on his shoulder, though your fingertips just barely reach below his ruffles. A giggle escapes you at the sheer height of him.

Gently, he pulls you into the more steady rhythm of an easy two-step dance.

You swing and sway across the path, crunching and rustling leaves underfoot with every step. The animatronic's eyes never leave yours, something lovestruck adorning his face. You can only look back, admiring the way his rays catch the slowly fading afternoon light, framing his crescent face in a brilliant halo of gold fire. The bell at the end of his hat chimes with every motion.

Suddenly, he sends you out in a quick spin, holding your hand above your head as you twirl. You laugh, happily leaning into the gesture before Eclipse pulls you back to him. His laughter joins yours as you're lifted to meet his eyes, holds you secure as he spins aimlessly, bouncing and swinging you around with exaggerated steps.

Your laughter only grows, the sound almost giddy to your ears. You hold tight onto the animatronic, his eyes crinkled with delight and shoulders shaking with the force of his own laughter.

“Eclipse!” you barely get his name out through your giggles, the Daycare Attendant coming to a stop. You both stand there, under trees that seem to share your mirth, the leaves trembling in their own raucous applause.

Eclipse holds you while your laughter dies down. You take a few deep breaths, the crisp air filling your lungs. As you steady yourself, you look over to the grassy area in the middle of the park. The leaves from the path have been raked around that spot, and right in the center of the grass is a massive pile of them.

You feel your whole body swell with excitement. A grin splits your face, "Set me down, set me down! I wanna show you something."

Eclipse acquiesces without hesitation, and you reach to grab his hand.

Lacing your fingers together, you move to pull the large robot with you, but pause when you feel resistance. You look back to see Eclipse watching you with suspicion.

“What?” you say with what you hope is innocence. 

Eclipse's eyes narrow further.

“You're plotting something, sweetness. I can see it in your eyes.”

You let go of his hands to clasp your own together, holding them down by your hip as you bat your eyes at him with a smile. A picture of perfectly innocuous intent if you’ve ever seen one.

“Whaaaat? Me? Plot something? Cariño, I would never,” you say with mock, exaggerated offense, mischief blooming across your face. “You'll like this. I promise.”

Extending your hand towards the Daycare Attendant, your expression shifts into a smile more genuine. He seems to consider it, and for a brief moment you worry he might refuse. Then, Eclipse extends his hand, lacing his long fingers with yours, and returns your smile with his own.

Giggling, you begin to tug him towards the leaf pile, more of them crunching underfoot. As you go, your pace grows until Eclipse's footsteps are thudding behind to match your own. You let go of Eclipse's hand, a surprised noise leaving the Attendant as you run ahead.

You sprint right towards that leaf pile — before diving in. The leaves scatter with a rush, tumbling away in a cascading ripple-wave. After a moment to catch your breath, you heft yourself from the pile, hair and sweater soaked in crumpled leaves like autumnal confetti. 

It's a miracle the leaf Eclipse gave you is still in your hair.

The approaching intermingle of heavy footsteps and jingle of bells is barely any warning for Eclipse's ensuing leap into the pile to join you – a motion that drowns you in leaves once more. Scattered as it is, the remaining pile does little to cushion Eclipse's landing, your partner hitting the ground with a resounding thud. The air around you both fills with your collective laughter, yours doubling as he digs you out of the leaves.

Eclipse does manage to uncover you, both of you absolutely beside yourselves with mirth. You clutch at your sides as you continue to giggle, heaving yourself up to grab a handful of those leaves. Tossing them in the air, you look down at Eclipse to where he sits on the ground, the poor Attendant half-buried in leaves himself. They’re mostly caught on his rays, one leaf awkwardly impaled on the point of his left topmost one.

As the leaves you threw begin to rain down, Eclipse grabs your hand and pulls you back to the ground, holding you close. You’re gently pulled into his lap and as you wrap your arms around his neck, he falls backwards into the leaves, taking you with. You can’t help but giggle as you smile down at him from where you lay on his chassis, reaching up to pull the leaf off of his ray.

By now, the sun has finally dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in a brilliant array of golds, pinks, and deep purples. Even the trees are soon set alight with that same flurry of colors. The shadows on the ground grow harsh, meanwhile, slicing through what warmth remains.

The golden hour had begun, bathing you and your beloved robot in the last hurrah of light before the sun bid its farewells.

You watch as Eclipse drinks in the view – his eyes dart and skip across the edges of forming shadows, linger in and upon that golden light.

At last, however, they drift back to settle on you.

A flush crosses your face in spite of you as his gaze lingers. You realize, perhaps somewhat belatedly, that the light was wreathing you too. You realize that, perhaps, he's admiring you.

“You really are something else, you know that, love?” Eclipse whispers, as though raising his voice any further would scare away this settling peace.

Your eyes soften. You reach a hand up to hold the side of his faceplate, your thumb stroking over the swirl of his cheek. “Am I now? I could say the same about you, amor.”

He sighs underneath you, his chassis heaving in mimicry of the motion. You rest your head on your hand, simply watching him as he lays under you. His eyes meet yours again, crinkle with a soft smile. Eclipse raises slightly, lifting his hand to cradle the back of your head. His long fingers thread through your hair, soon pulling you gentle towards his face. You give no resistance, leaning down to bunt your forehead against his, both of you basking in the warmth of each other's affection.

“So,” you eventually begin, breaking the silence between you, “how do you feel about fall, Clippy? Did it measure up to the pictures in your books?”

The robot chuckles at you, a blush covering his own face as he responds, “I think it might just be my favorite season, sweetness.”

Oh, how you loved the fall.

[goingsunnythousandmerry]

Satoru Gojo X Suguru Geto - Fluff/Yearning/Angst/Pain

Authors Note: Hey friends! I know I am still behind on requests. It is next on my list. I apologize, school has taken more time than I planned. Anyways, I've gotten really into Jujutsu Kaisen lately so I wrote this for my best friend yesterday when Mr. Loverman was stuck in my head. She thought I should share it.

Hope you all enjoy and I'm sorry it HURTS.

Warnings: Umm if you don't want to be sad don't read.

Lots of YEARNING.

These characters are not mine they belong to the great Gege Akutami.

The above image isn't mine, credit to who it belongs to will give it if I am told.

Summary: Memory reflection of the friendship of Gojo and Geto and the words left unsaid.

Song listened to while writing:

Mr. Loverman by Ricky Montgomery featuring Chloe Moriondo

Hope you all Enjoy! Thanks for Reading!

***

How can two people know what love is if they’ve never seen it themselves?

The small classroom was empty except for two occupied wooden desks. Two men sat across from each other, separated by a few desks. The smell of freshly erased chalk lingered throughout the room.

Gojo looked at Geto and the clouds seemed to stop moving in the sky behind him. Geto spoke about his passions like the world at his feet could never crumble. The faint echo of the wind outside was erased by the warmth of Geto’s smile. Whenever Geto spoke, Gojo’s eyes shone like sunbeams piercing through deep water—soft, scattered, and alive with that lingering glimmer just before you break the surface. Geto’s morals and ideals were always  grounded in the possibility of others around them, but never their possibilities. 

The room suddenly felt too wide, like there was too much space between them, too much distance. Gojo stood, stretching, the movement drawing a faint breath from him as his eyes flicked back to Geto, who hadn’t stopped speaking.

Geto’s bangs hung loosely over his forehead, brushing the lids of his purple eyes. Gojo always hated his speeches, but he still listened. They were the strongest, that was all that ever mattered to Gojo, but Geto saw more. He saw more in Gojo than just what he was capable of, he saw who he was. Geto laughed as Gojo began slowly strolling across the room toward him, making some remarks about his moral compass. Geto’s eyes followed him, every step from Gojo drawing his focus tighter. Geto wasn’t sure what he was saying, he was too distracted by Gojo’s confident stride. His breath quickened, the muscles in his leg trembled, and his mind raced as Gojo approached.

Gojo’s gaze was steady as he crossed the room, his feet sure but slow. Gojo stopped in front of Geto with a sigh and the offering of a sarcastic comment. He watched Geto chuckle softly, shrugging his muscular shoulders in response. His laugh like the steady drum of a heartbeat, warm, constant, and grounding. With a quiet exhale, Gojo placed a hand on Geto’s shoulder, his gaze drifting toward the window behind them. 

“Satoru.” Geto whispered.

Geto’s voice lingered on his name, like a breath shared only between them, warm and familiar in the quiet space. His voice always made Gojo's mind reel. Those two syllables explained why Gojo constantly acted out. He wanted Geto to say his name and never stop. But within the silence between the lingering of his name and the moments when Gojo spoke Geto's, there were words left unspoken—feelings too uncertain to be named.

***

Gojo stood and stared at the puddle at his feet. In the water’s reflection were the colors of his memories with Geto– the bike rides, the curse hunting, the pranks– the echo of it all blending into a beautiful canvas. But at the heart of it all, always, was that day in the classroom—frozen in his mind, looping endlessly in the silence of his solitude.

A drop of water broke from the overhang above and splashed into the puddle, sending ripples across the reflection. His smile faltered as the moment cracked, the ache in his chest deepening with the memory of being too late to save him. He was always too late. 

“I wish I had told you.” His voice raw and quiet, a whisper to no one blending with the sound of the rain that began falling again. “I miss you now that you’re gone, Suguru.”

“Gojo-Sensei!” Yuji called his name and Gojo shook the thoughts from his mind.

[maul-of-shame]

"Beneath the King's Gaze", a Gil-galad x OC fic

Week(s) ago I opened my "middle-earth one-shots requests" and I already posted a few over AO3!! This one’s for @serenni on Tumblr!💕 I had so much fun writing this piece—thank you for the lovely prompt!😊✨ I hope you enjoy the soft moments and the warmth between these two!! It was such a joy to bring them to life! And it's been updated on AO3 now as gift!🌙💫

As always, thank you to everyone who reads, comments, and supports my work—it means the world!💖

You can find it on AO3 here!

Do NOT repost, reblogs are okay!

The Isle of Balar, though safe, was a sanctuary marked by loss.

Souls wandered like shadows, bearing wounds of battles left behind and sorrows gathered in their hearts, yet they clung together, drawn to this place by the shared weight of fate. Among them, Séredhiel had emerged as a light that offered both peace and hope. She had neither title nor the skills of a healer, but the people sought her presence. Her words, like a gentle song, reminded them of home. Her stories brought warmth, and her laugh seemed woven from the last threads of joy they'd known before sorrow claimed them.

From across the encampment, Gil-Galad watched her move among the gathered refugees. Her deep brown hair, though tousled from the island’s winds, caught a glimmer of sunlight, adding an ethereal warmth to her presence. She was barely tall enough to reach his shoulder, yet even from a distance, her presence was as profound as any figure of noble blood. And though he could command armies and fortify kingdoms, Gil-Galad felt strangely unarmored as he watched her laugh with a child, as if the troubles of the world had momentarily melted in her embrace.

She helped mend what could not be touched by a sword or a poultice.

Today, Séredhiel was with a group of weary families, tending not to their bodies but their hearts. A child—no more than a toddler—reached up to her, and she bent down, lifting the little one into her arms. She sang softly, her voice carrying across the camp with notes so gentle they felt like a caress to the ears. 

Without realizing he’d been drawn in, Gil-Galad found himself beside her, captivated by the serenity she shared. She turned, noticing him at last, and greeted him with a slight bow, but there was warmth in her gaze, an invitation to stand at ease.

“_ My king.”; She said softly. “ I did not know you walked among us.”

“_ I needed to see our people. To understand what I can do for them.”; He murmured. His eyes drifted to her, a tender reverence slipping into his voice. “ I see now that they already have someone caring for them in ways I could not.”

A soft blush colored her cheeks, and she looked down, shifting the child to her other arm as if needing a distraction.

“_ I only give what little I have.”; She replied. Her voice softened, shadowed with sadness.“ In truth, I am grateful to be of any help at all. It is a way to honor those who… were not so lucky.” 

He felt the depth of her heart, the selflessness that pulled her to each wounded soul, each tear-streaked face. And in that moment, something slipped past his guard.

“_ You give more than you know.”; He said, his tone unexpectedly gentle. “ You shine upon them, like Ithilwen, the moon maiden herself, with light in the night. You heal wounds unseen. There is no greater gift.”

She looked up, surprise mingling with the warmth in her hazel eyes, the green and golden flecks catching the light just so.

“_ Ithilwen?”; She repeated, an amused smile curving her lips.  He realized what he’d said, and a faint color rose in his cheeks.

“_ It… suits you. I only meant…”; He stumbled over his words, not a common occurrence for him.

She laughed softly, the sound bright as sunlight.

“_ Thank you, then. I shall hold the name close.”; She glanced away, setting the child down, her gaze growing distant as she looked out across the refuge, as if absorbing the weight of everyone’s silent grief. Then, almost to herself, she whispered. “ I only hope my brother finds his way back to me.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder, offering his silent strength.

“_ As do I, Ithilwen.”; He said softly. “ For his sake, and for yours.” 

There was silence between them, but it was comfortable, laced with an understanding that needed no words. As he looked at her, with her gaze far away and filled with the care she had for these people, something stirred in him—a yearning he had never allowed himself, a hope that perhaps one day, when his duties allowed, he might claim this solace for himself.

Gil-Galad watched as Séredhiel slipped back into the gentle bustle of the refugees, her presence a steady balm to the people gathered in their grief, settling down the small toddler. With a lingering look, he turned to leave her, his duties calling him back, yet he hadn’t gone but a few steps when she called after him, her voice light and hesitant.

“_ My lord…”; She paused, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze shy as she looked up at him. “ Would you… I mean… if you have a moment, would you be willing to… assist me?”

Her words came with a faint flush, her eyes bright as she half-smiled, as though unsure if she was overstepping in asking him to stay.

A king did not usually tarry long with the wounded, much less lend his hands among them. Yet Gil-Galad felt something warm spread through him at her request—a strange, unexpected joy in simply being close, to be of use to her.

“_ I would be honored.”; He replied, his voice softening. “ Show me what I can do.”

Together, they worked side by side among the scattered groups. Séredhiel spoke with gentle ease, each word a salve to weary souls. At her request, Gil-Galad gathered supplies and offered his hands, often little more than carrying linens or fresh water, but somehow, every task felt purposeful.

He noticed how the people clung to her words, and she spoke to each person with the same tenderness and care, as if nothing else in the world mattered in those moments.

She caught him watching her and let out a small, embarrassed laugh.

“_ You know, I didn’t mean to keep you here, my lord…”; She teased softly, her voice laced with a chuckling warmth. “ But I appreciate your help, all the same.”

He laughed softly, bending to offer a hand to an elder who struggled with their blanket.

“_ You don’t give orders easily, do you?”

Her smile was warm, a touch of color in her cheeks.

“_ Not to a king, no.”; She replied. “ Nor to anyone. I find it easier to ask than to demand.”

Yet he saw it, how naturally people were drawn to her, how they relied on her presence without question. Children gathered around her, their small hands reaching for hers, and those broken from battle seemed to find some sense of strength in her gaze. Even those too weary to smile managed to find comfort in her presence, soothed by the gentleness she offered.

He fell into a natural rhythm beside her, letting her lead.

She laughed often, and he couldn’t help but watch the way her eyes softened as she spoke to the people—how she met each gaze, letting them feel seen. To her, each person was a story she was eager to listen to, a soul worthy of patience and care.

He found himself in awe of her quiet strength.

Her joy felt like a revelation, even to him, for it softened the edges of his own heart. His thoughts drifted, and he wondered if there might be a place for such a light in his life. 

“How strange”, he thought, that she brought out a gentler side of him—a warmth he’d once thought he’d hidden away in his duties, his heart hardened by years of war and responsibility. He was a king, expected to stand alone in times of hardship, yet here he was, finding solace not in his own resolve but in the warmth of her smile, the sound of her laugh. The realization caught him off-guard, like a powerful wave, a sudden yearning he felt rise within him.

They settled together beside a family, where Séredhiel knelt to speak softly with a mother who clutched a newborn, her eyes red with worry. As Séredhiel whispered comforting words, Gil-Galad found himself captivated by her voice, and an image settled in his mind: of moonlight bathing her face, of that gentle light illuminating her features.

She was, indeed, Ithilwen—his Ithilwen.

But the thought felt almost too bold.

She was free and strong, a warmth that could never be contained. Yet he could not ignore the ache, the wish that for once, he might find a way to hold something purely for himself. 

She caught him looking, and her lips curved into a soft smile.

“_ Thank you, my lord.”; She whispered, her voice like a song that drifted around them. “ For everything.”

“_ Séredhiel…”; He began, then faltered, unsure of what to say. Her gaze lifted to meet his, and he knew then that his heart was no longer his own. He swallowed, hoping his gaze alone might speak what he could not say.

They turned back to their quiet work among the refugees, and as they moved side by side, Séredhiel found herself falling into the rhythm of their shared task. Gil-Galad took up each effort with surprising grace, following her lead with a quiet attentiveness that softened his kingly bearing. She couldn’t help but admire the way he brought comfort with gentle strength, meeting each soul with a warmth that felt both steady and personal.

Then, a small hand tugged at the hem of Gil-Galad’s tunic. A boy with a freckled nose and wide, tear-bright eyes looked up at him, clutching a scraped knee with a face twisted in pain and a hint of awe at the towering figure before him. Gil-Galad froze for a moment, taken off guard by the boy’s sudden need.

“_ Your knee, young one.”; He murmured, bending down awkwardly, his hands hovering as if unsure whether to touch. He glanced at Séredhiel with a faintly helpless look that brought a smile to her lips.

She knelt down beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“_ He’s looking for a bit of bravery.”; She murmured softly, reaching into her satchel for a cloth. “ You’ll do fine, my lord.”

With a small, hesitant chuckle, Gil-Galad softened, reaching out to steady the child. He lifted the boy into his arms with a tender care that surprised even him, holding him close to his chest as Séredhiel examined the boy’s scrapes. The king’s brows furrowed with an intensity that seemed almost comically misplaced, as if this scraped knee were a grave wound.

Séredhiel carefully dabbed at the boy’s knee, her touch feather-light as she worked, her voice soothing as she murmured to the child. And yet her gaze kept drifting to Gil-Galad, captivated by the way he held the boy, his face a mixture of kindness and determination.

The child whimpered as the cloth brushed his scraped knee, and Gil-Galad instinctively tightened his arms around him, rocking him gently.

“_ Brave lad, aren’t you?”; He said, his voice low and warm. “ Why, a scrape like this? You’ll be on your feet again by morning.”

The boy sniffled, peeking up at the king with wide eyes, and some of his fear faded. Gil-Galad grinned, his gaze softening.

“_ You know, I once scraped my knee too. Right before a battle. I hardly walked for a day.”; He added in a conspiratorial whisper, his expression serious, as though sharing a great secret.

Séredhiel’s heart softened, her hands stilling for a moment as she looked at him. Here was a king, one with the strength of his ancestors, yet willing to kneel in the dirt for a child, his voice a quiet balm that seemed to dissolve the boy’s fears.

“_ There.”; She whispered, her voice like a lullaby as she smoothed a strip of cloth over the boy’s knee. “ Almost done.”

Gil-Galad shifted the boy in his arms, his gaze never leaving her as she worked. He looked as though he might say something, but instead, his mouth curved into a faint smile as he watched her, his admiration deep and unguarded.

“_ You’re good at this.”; He murmured, his voice soft so as not to disturb the boy resting against his shoulder.

She glanced up, her cheeks warming.

“_ It comes naturally.”; She replied, looking at him, taking in the way he cradled the child with a tenderness she hadn’t expected. “ But it seems it does for you as well.”

His brows rose, his cheeks faintly flushed as he looked away, a faint chuckle escaping him.

“_ It… Well, I suppose it does.”; He said, his tone almost bashful, his voice barely above a whisper.

She finished tending to the boy’s scrapes, placing a final kiss to the makeshift bandage as she whispered a soft prayer for his strength.

“_ There you are, little one. You’ll be well in no time.”; She rose, watching as Gil-Galad carefully set the child down, his hand lingering on the boy’s head with a look of fatherly pride.

The boy looked up at them both, then broke into a bright grin before darting off, his small voice calling a cheerful thank-you as he disappeared into the crowd. Gil-Galad straightened, his gaze following the child’s retreat before he turned back to Séredhiel, something warm and vulnerable in his expression.

“_ Strange, isn’t it?”; He said softly, almost to himself. “ To care for one so small, to feel a… connection.”

He paused, his voice tender.

“_ One might think it would take more time, but somehow, the heart decides.”

A warmth bloomed in her chest as she looked at him, feeling a depth in his words she hadn’t expected. Her voice was soft as she replied.

“_ It does, doesn’t it? The heart, I think, often knows before we do.”

Their gazes met, and she saw in him the trace of a yearning, a quiet ache he hadn’t allowed himself to voice. She felt, knew, the weight of his burdens, the responsibility that rested on his shoulders. Yet here, in the simple act of caring for a wounded child, he had allowed himself to be simply Gil-Galad—a man, capable of love, of tenderness.

She gave him a soft smile, a quiet reassurance that she understood, even if he hadn’t spoken it.

And as he returned the smile, his eyes lingering on hers, she realized she felt something stir within her, something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel until now.

For a brief, unguarded moment, she imagined what it might be like to share a life with him, to see him like this each day—a man who could kneel in the dirt for a child, who could hold her heart as carefully as he’d held that boy. And she wondered if, perhaps, he might feel the same.

They stood in silence, surrounded by the sounds of the camp, yet wrapped in a quiet understanding that needed no words. And as they turned back to their work, her heart held a hope she hadn’t dared to feel before, a gentle wish that someday, the warmth she’d glimpsed in his gaze might become something more.

[screampied]

‘ V!RGIN KILLA! 𝜗𝜚

𓉸ྀི sum. not only does he think he knows what he’s doing, he’s also a virgin. but there’s a first time for everything . . . right? choso, nanami, gojo, geto, ino, toji.

warnings. fem! reader, vīrgin men, unprotected, vīrginity loss, whiny needy men, some college themes, fratboy! toji, pússydrunk men, cōckwarming, cérvix kissin', cunnīlingus, dry humping, finishing quick, spıt, squīrting, bréeding, petnames, sukuna's part didn't save but i'll make it up </3

★ NANAMI KENTO aka the quick learner virgin?!

nanami drools the minute his tip disappears inside of your cunt. he can’t help it - at all.

the balmy warmth you provide him while you’re straddling his waist, basically cockwarming him sends him shivers. “god, ‘s good,” he groans, tugging at the bottom edge of his spot-patterned tie. nanami could feel the raised pointed tips of his ears burning as his eyes slowly flicker down toward your sopping wet pussy. oh, how it’s just profusely leaking with so much strings of your pretty slick. messily, it glosses a shine between your legs, gleaming with thick molasses—almost similar to a stream, and yet this stream was instead flowing down between your legs. “mmh.. ride me, s- show me how to feel good, my love.”

“hey. eyes on me, ‘ken,” you whisper, your fragile breaths growing shallow the moment he’s tightly snug balls deep in. with a ringing loud ‘pop!’ you feel him greedily ease his way past the slight loose ring of your entrance and you moan. he’s in so deep, and you can’t help but shimmy your hips against his lap. nanami told you how he had little to no experience—and yet, he wanted to try this out with you. having you ride him until he couldn’t think straight. whenever you ran your hands down his carved tone body, a roaring fire would ignite within him. your touch alone sent him chills and he only craved it more. tender fawn-colored eyes that almost resemble honey meet your gaze, and he leans into your touch the moment you cup your hands on his cheeks. slowly, you’re lustfully swaying against his lap back and forth and he groans. “that’s it, you’re doin’ good, kento. hold my hips.”

“like . . this?” he hoarsely asks, and hefty hands suddenly cling onto your waist. you moan, nodding as he gently holds them in place, trying to guide your movements. his cock stretched you out in each ‘n every way, curiously exploring through the gummy walls of every slick orifice. nanami’s starting to sweat already—and you smile, watching as he sneaks a fat thumb down between your pried open legs. “mngh. . you’re soakin’ all on me. is that normal?” he breathes, and you can see a bit of drool starting to seep down the cracked corners of his lips.

soaking, he could hear the sloppy sounds of your cunt slamming back against his tense thighs and it makes him throb. in zealous sync, you end up throbbing too, and he feels said throb right against the the narrow tip of his cock. “ah, y- yeah, ‘s normal, kento,” you inhale sharply, wrapping your arms around him. callused fingertips his drag a straight line down your skin as he starts to rock you faster into his needy pelvis.

the stretch makes you whimper - his dick’s so fat, and your pussy swallows all numerous inches every time. over ‘n over, your ass violently hits back against his lap as you continue to ride him, amorously tossing your swerving hips in a circle. you could see the blond’s eyes starting to grow hooded, and he’s never looked so in love. your cunt had him hungry for more. “like that, baby?”

“mhm, i like a-anything you do to me, sweetheart,” nanami hoarsely coos, pulling up the back of your hand for a loving kiss. you’re riding him well—watching as he slowly cocks his head back, exposing the oval-shaped adam’s apple in his throat. it’s a simple yet sexy detail that makes you pulsate nevertheless, and nanami groans. “f- fuck, i need you. i need more, ‘m not gonna last, honey if you hah.. keep ridin’ me like that.”

and within a few hasty strokes, nanami starts to get the hang of your rhythm. by the hang, he’s starting to fuck you against his cock now. vast, open hands of his cling onto your waist tight before he’s occasionally spanking your ass. “ngh, good girl. that’s my girl, ugh,” and as you’re whining, nanami pulls you into his neck. the pearly silver band of his flashy watch tickles down your back as he grabs at a nice chunk of your ass, spanking it. “r- ride it like it’s yours, sweetheart. ride it like i’m yours.”

he’s whispering filthy nothing in your ears—trying to drown out your cute sobbing whimpers and your even louder pussy. nanami’s cock was deranged - it was reaching through every sensitive spot of yours, wasting no time to introduce itself near the gummy ridges.

“fuck, fuck!” you’d squeal out, gasping once the swollen head of his cock tickles its way near your hidden g-spot. oh, that spot. you couldn’t help but get sheepish, a cock drunk smile twisting against your lips. he’s so snug, rearranging your insides while continuing to spank your ass. it’s almost as if he knew what he was doing, and nanami knew how to tame your aching cunt with just a few sloppy strokes. “ken, ‘m close. fuckin’ close.”

“i know, i know. give it t’ me,” he whispers, his voice pitching deeper ‘n deeper after each sloppy thrust. nanami’s pumping you full, swallowing thickly to ease the inside of his mouth that’s parched, akin to the sahara. nanami groans, gingerly making you slam your hips against him harder. “fuck, work those hips sweetheart. show me how messy my pretty girl can be, h- huh?”

you’re whimpering constantly, sounding like nothing more than a broken record as you’re gradually being led to your release. it’s a candied sweet taste in your mouth that never goes away, and once you finally came—you were hysterical.

nanami huffs heavily, holding you tight as your hips come to a sudden devastating stop. he’s still buried thick inches deep before he groans, caressing a palm against your tender rear. “hah, that’s m- my girl,” he coos, feeling you drench a portion of his cock with your slimy slick. it’s warm, and you’re still whining incoherent blurbs as you bury your face into his neck. “whew, we’ll have ‘ta try that again,” and once he plants a wet kiss near your temple, he strokes your chin with a thumb. “but another position though. if that’s alright.”

“w- what position?” you tiredly pant, bringing a hand toward your sticky-coated back.

nanami gives your ass its final playful spank before whispering lowly against your lips. “ever heard of doggy, my love?”

#GETO SUGURU aka the nasty virgin?!

geto’s a filthy nasty virgin, unashamed. insisting how he’s never experienced something like this before, smugly stating how he ‘did his research.’

“lie back, sweetheart,” geto huffed, flipping you right back over on your back. he’d just got done with fucking you round after round for the first time, and it seemed like the word ‘stamina’ didn’t exist in his vocabulary. one second inside and he already wanted more—he was greedy, and it was never enough. as you’re struggling to catch your breath that drags out of your full puffed lungs, you stare up at geto. right away, his dark eyes dart between your legs and the dripping dewy mess that streams between your puffed cunt. “what a pretty sight, look at thaaaat,” and geto inches his face between your thighs, staring at frosty-white wads of cum that pour straight out of your full swollen folds.

so much. . you were practically overflowing with ribbons of sticky hot cum ‘n many more strings of it before he sticks out his tongue. “hah, least i can do is clean my girl, hm?” and you whimper, feeling him spread your legs apart with two hands. “kinda saw this in a video once.”

“s- sugu!” you gasp, your words leisurely turning into moans the second he dives straight into your pussy - nose first.

right as the tip of his tongue creates a frenzied slurping trail that soaks straight your cunt, he gives you the most feral look. his pretty black lashes briefly flap shut as he’s devouring you wholly, jerking his head from side to side. choked, gargled moans continue to steal out from your strained vocal cords as a hand of yours fishes through his matted tresses. “fuck, f- fuck like that, clean it up, baby.”

“mhm,” he smears his entire chin against your cunt, feeling it get doused with your sweet slick almost right away. he’s nasty, lapping up his bittersweet cum that spills out from between your folds like it’s nothing. geto barely even bats an eye, and that’s when he groans the second you feel a bit of weight dip against the mattress. he’s now humping against the edge of the bed, rocking his slim hips over ‘n over. “goddamn, ‘m so horny still, sweetheart. ‘y have no idea,” he whimpers shakily, and he grumbles under his breath, shaking his head as a few thin strands of hair gets in the way of his view. “h- hey, be a doll ‘n tie my hair back for me, yeah?”

as you’re chasing your quick-steady breaths, you grab his ponytail holder from his wrist, neatly putting his raven locks into a messy bun. “good girl, take such good care of m—mmph.”

geto lowly chuckles against your pussy once you give him a soft push that makes his nose brush up against your clit. your folds were so cute ‘n runny, filthily oozing with velvety remnants of his warm, pasty cum. “mhh, suguru,” you’d whine, feeling your back continuously arch against the stained white sheets. geto’s got a few loose strands that continue to run down his face, past his brows—making him appear to be even more handsome whilst between your legs. each thoroughly slurp gets louder, and that’s when he starts to loll his tongue out inside of you.

one thing about suguru geto was that he had a long fuckin’ tongue..

it extends fully, and you give his hair a rough tug once the tip of his tongue playfully slithers its way near your twitching sensitive nub. at that moment, you feel a rapid chill race through you and you let off the most shrilling whimper. “ah! suguru, fuck, ‘m sensitive there, don’t s- stop,” and as you’re babbling from his lengthy tongue, he starts to purse his lips. they curl up, puckering fully before he’s drinking everything out of you.

it’s a long carnal suck that makes your eyes cross and you feel like your life’s flashing before your eyes. splotches of white were all that clouded your vision as your thighs shake—nearly suffocating him with your plush, warm legs. “o- oh, fuck,” you’d mewl, and you knew that incoming pressure from anywhere.

you were close.

geto grunts, savoring your taste entirely. you’re just so sweet that your flavor melts on his tongue and he’s teasingly thrusting his tongue in and out of your sobbing folds. seconds later, that’s when you shriek. “c’monnn, give it to me,” and he even brings a hand between your thighs, spanking your precious cunt. “make a mess on my tongue, wanna see what it’s like,” he groans, his rocking against the edge of the bed intensifying. geto’s famished for more, and his bare cock twitches against the rocky mattress frame as you’re squirming on his tongue. by now, he’s licked you clean, and in return, he’s left with a locked jaw and glimmering wet chin. geto eyes you intently, giving your pussy its final sloppy spank before whispering against your folds. “let go for me, baby.”

as if on cue, you gush out loudly, feeling every muscle within you snap ‘n stretch outward. it was as if a crushing weight was lifted from your shoulders—but in this case, your shoulders were your tummy. “fuuuck!” you whimper out, squeezing your eyes shut as your legs give out.

geto’s mouth was still glued to your sticky slippery cunt as his tongue’s slowed its licks down. you tasted even sweeter, and he’s slurping you right up - softly moaning against your cunt as he reaches to touch himself. geto’s tongue’s constant movements scratch such an itch in your brain, making you let off a cute gasp. “ughh, s- suguru,” you whimper, feeling your thighs still shiver.

your tummy heaves in and out repeatedly, and you glance down at geto who’s got the sleaziest grin. “t- thought you said you didn’t know what you were . . hah, doing.”

“oh, baby i don’t,” geto rasps, sitting up from between your legs. he closes the distance between you both, pressing a steamy hot kiss against your quivering plump lips. you moan, getting a brief taste of yourself on his hot tongue before he playfully bites near your bottom lip. “my research helped me a lot,” and you moan the second you feel him give your sloppy cunt a big squeeze with his palm. “but . . i didn’t know my girl was a squirter. think we’ll have to do that again,” geto licks underneath your chin. “y’know, for research purposes.”

#GOJO SATORU aka the loser virgin?!

“yeah, yeah,” satoru would stubbornly grumble, cutting you off mid-sentence and rolling his eyes. his leaky tip remains idle, aligning itself against your soddened entrance before he puffs. phew, you were so pretty up close—especially down there. satoru couldn’t help but stare, openly admiring just how slick ‘n soaked you were.

just weeping from both off folds, the entirety of your entrance being coated in nothing but perspiring wetness. satoru swears on his life he knows what he’s doing, but the second the globed head of his cock smears a line down the wet slope of your cunt - he folds.

with a shaky, needy breath, he whines. “god, why are you so fuckin’ wet, baby. ‘s this supposed to happen?”

“yes, ‘toru,” you reassure him, sprawling your legs out a bit more. satoru’s panting, watching as you bring two sets of fingers toward your pretty pussy. with a slightly wide ‘v’ shape, you’re spreading yourself apart and he’s gawking straight between your legs. fuck, you were so soaked that you were starting to drip near the inner crevices of your thighs. you were playing with yourself earlier before he told you how he wanted to try going inside for the first time. but now that he’s up close—satoru can’t help but be a bit flustered. “c’mere, don’t be shy,” and you nearly moan, trailing the print of your thumb down your syrupy-coated slit. “she doesn’t bite.”

satoru scoffs, but he inches closer. so wet, his cock that was being fisted in the palm of his hand was throbbing hard. pulse after fucking pulse, a lightning-shaped vein races down the center of his hand before he groans at how hard you’re making him. “ngh, baby,” and he nearly loses it the second he struggles to align himself. he feels so hot, fuzzy cotton stuffing in his ears once his tip slowly rubs itself in between your drooling flaps. satoru snaps out of it, clearing his throat before puffing out his chest in an attempt to maintain his known ego. “heh- i mean uh- let’s show ya how ‘the strongest’ fucks.”

and apparently, ‘the strongest’ didn’t really know what he was doing after all.

because he’s barely halfway in when he’s cumming - heavily.

emphasis on barely, and satoru lets out a sweet needy whine the second he’s shooting thin milky ropes into you. thick, stringy ribbons of cum envelope inside your pussy with warmth right away. “f- fuck, dammit,” he’d grunt, burying his face into the crook of your neck. satoru’s beefy body presses right up against yours, and he’s shivering at the feeling. it’s unlike any feeling he’s ever felt, and you giggle the second you hear him loudly sigh. “ugh, that wasn’t supposed ‘ta happen.”

“thought you knew what you were doin’, baby,” you cheekily reply, a few beads of sweat racing down the left side of your forehead. satoru sits up, leaning into your ginger embraces—your palm cupping his temple. he’s pouting, an unsatisfied pout extending across each side of his lips.

“i- i doo,” he whines, feeling his thighs starting to heat up near the undersides. satoru clenches his teeth, groaning once you gradually wrap your legs around his slim waist. he’s hot, and you’ve got him wrapped around your pretty ‘lil finger.

wide, crystal blue eyes meet your gaze before satoru exhales into your neck. “mnh, let me try again, baby,” and right as you rub your ankle down his tense back muscles, he gruffs. snowy flapping lashes of his shut tight before he wraps a hand around his lanky cock. “pleasee, c’mon baby. lemme prove myself. i’ll get it this time for real.”

a smile marinates its way against your features as you hum, rubbing a thumb down his sensitive undercut. for a second, you could have sworn you heard satoru purr as he leaned into your touch. you almost forgot how much of a tender spot that was for him. cute.

“okay, go ‘head,” and both of your thighs were practically sticking together. such amounts of his seed glue against your thighs—almost like it was some kind of clingy adhesive. satoru pulls out for a moment, eager to get a look at the sloppy mess and oh.. it was a lot - he came a lot, and satoru couldn’t help but stare at the luminous streams of cum that teared down your polished cunt.

it’s sloppy. satoru’s eyes widen once he feels his tip glide its way against your cervix. right near your g-spot - it’s fuckin’ bumpy, and he feels your legs eagerly twitch the minute his dick slides its way near a spongy area. you’re moaning, laid back before satoru starts to whine.

he can’t help but whimper, softly smacking his swollen tip on your entrance. satoru had no idea what to do next, but he just wanted to play with your pretty pussy some more. the loud echoey smacks from his dick onto your folds make his ears ring…pap after pap and he’s pronounced feral. but that’s right when you hear him sniffle, literally getting lost in your pussy the second he feels your cute pulse on his round, mushroomy tip.

as you wrap your arms around him, hearing him whine once you rub a thumb down his undercut, feeling him awkwardly trying to align himself again with a bashful needy grin.

“toru, are you cryin’?”

#CHOSO KAMO aka the virgin who barely lasts?!

“o- oh, fuckk,” he’d whine, twinkling eyes widening the second he’s watching your tummy cave in from behind. you’re so pretty like this, bent over, sprawled all out on all fours. choso’s stiffly still at first, and he’s very awkward with his hands. bulged, umber-colored eyes bore into your backside, gazing at your skin. stunning, choso grunts as he pistons his hips, glancing at the sunlight that radiates off a shiny part of your spine.

in choso’s eyes, you’re breathing pretty - art, and with the way your skin glimmers in the sun, you looked like a rare painting. “baby, you’re so warm inside.”

“mhm, don’t stop ‘cho,” you moan in response, feeling your loose jaw start to droop allll the way down. you nibble near the inside of your gummy cheek, gasping at just how big he is. his cock was huge, and it didn’t take him long at all to fit nice ‘n snug. its a semi-tight fit that makes your mouth start to water from the inside and you whine. “fuuck, ‘s okay, choso,” and he feels you wriggling your ass against him. choso’s eyes dart towards your bouncy rear and he huffs. “spank it.”

a shuddering breath leaves from choso’s pink parted lips before he lowly rasps. “yeah?” and you felt yourself throb, feeling him press himself all up against you. now, choso’s gently hovering his weight over your back whilst he’s still presenting you with passionate deep strokes. slowly but surely—he’s getting the hang of it, rummaging through your fleshy clingy insides with each punctuating hit. choso’s gruff heavy breaths fan down your neck before he moans, creeping a hand toward your ass. “i can spank you, baby?”

“mmh,” you whimper in response, hearing the salaciously wanton squelches of your cunt help out louder. saying that you were wet was a mere understatement, you were pouring all down his dick with your slick. choso could feel the wetted mess trail between your legs, coating the front of his thighs entirely with your viscid sap. he’s heard about intimacy but it was an entirely different thing to experience it firsthand. “spank me, choso. ‘s okay, you can be a ‘lil rough.”

“ ‘kay,” he huffs, and you let off a soft squeal the second his palm sharply swats against your ass. oh, he liked that. the way your rear recoiled, pretty skin bouncing quickly for a few seconds—all from a small whacking hit. the brief sting made your cunt pulse sporadically as he was still drilling into you. pump after pump, choso turns pussy drunk within seconds. “hah, you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he whines, tracing a hand down the pretty curvature of your ass. his fingers dance down every juncture, and it’s almost heart-shaped. “baby, you’re makin’ me feel so—fuck.”

choso gets cut off from his words the moment he feels his dick throb between your soddened cunt. you’re wringing him dry, all while your head is cutely smushed up against your pillow. choso’s speed quickly starts to get relentless, and after a while, he’s starting to understand the human body just a bit more. “ah, choso. fuck me, fuck!” you’d whimper, a curling sensation arising within your toes right as he slams his way into your cervix.

it’s a direct hit, a k.o. as some would might say—and it’s almost as if you’ve got stars ‘n imaginary birds flying over your head like a cartoon because choso’s dick had you stupid.

“somethin’s c- comin’,” he moans, slightly lifting your leg to get a better view. it’s probably been a few minutes and choso’s already panting like a dog. he’s feral - softly planting a stripe of wet kisses down your neck as he’s buried balls deep. “ugh, baby. ‘m gonna cum, gonna cum, ngh.”

“inside, ‘cho. ‘s okay,” you whine, feeling his pace grow more relentless and sloppy. choso’s gripping your waist tightly, his bottom lip quivering as he’s feeling a sudden rush overtake his entire body. you’re perfect - he wanted to keep you like this forever, plug you full and keep you warm. you could hear his rough, heavy pants from behind you until he finally came.

whitish thick ribbons pour into you all at once, shooting deep into your womb.

it’s hot - physically and literally.

you’re arched over for him like a bridge and he’s whimpering, furrowing his darkened brows with a pout as choso slowly starts to flood your cunt. globs of sleek strings spray inside your gripping cunt as he gradually pulls out, openly watching as you’re moaning. the feeling of your walls wrapping around his cock had him feeling fuzzy. “m- mhm, choso,” you’d mewl out, hearing him cutely gasp once your cunt sloshes loudly, spitting out thin clumps of his cum. “ ‘m so full.”

“hah- ‘n you’re gonna get even fuller, baby,” he huffs, a pout still glossing over his slickly-wet lips as he stares at your pussy. it’s pretty like this, he thinks. from top to bottom—you’re stuffed full of his gooey hot cum, so much to where it’s shamelessly oozing out of your puffed slit, racing down your numb jittery thighs. you moan, feeling choso drag a thumb down your sobbing, slobbering slit before popping his thumb into his mouth, licking his mess right off his finger.

choso moans at the taste before pouting. “not done, one more round,” and as he glides his tongue across his digit, choso gives your cunt a soft spank before groaning, softly pushing your knees to your chest.

“ ‘m still hungry.”

#TOJI FUSHIGURO aka the virgin who gets humbled?!

“heh. do y’r worst, baby,” toji would snicker, bringing a spank to your ass as he leans back against the couch. lazily, he’s slouching with a half-filled can of cheap beer in his hand. he’s smug, and not only was he smug but he was also virgin - the cockiest.

it’s funny because toji didn’t know what the fuck he was doing…however, he was more than willing for you to ‘show him’ how to feel good.

of course—he’s haughty that you won’t be able to take him, but it’s much to be expected for a pompous fratboy. “mmh, goddamn,” he’d grunt, peering down at your glossed weeping pussy. it’s wet, and as you straddle him, toji squeezes the energy drink in his hand. “slow, baby s- slow.”

with a cooing whisper, you sprinkle a few kisses near the inside of his neck. “slower, toji? but you’re the one who kept rushin’ me,” you tease, and from your peripherals, you can see his jaw tensing. fuck, the moment your cunt starts to ease down on his length in a gradually paced manner, toji groans. it’s a low husky groan - the groan where he’s already tossing his head back.

“y’r bein’ a brat,” he snarls, sliding an arm around your waist. your pussy was hypnotic - and you wearing one of his oversized jade-colored frat hoodies only made things ten times worse. you looked so pretty, and he couldn’t help but trail his hooded eyes down your body, stopping at the hem of your waist and right near your ass. “fuck- slow, baby. ‘m damn sensitive,” and you watch the sly smirk that was once plastered on his scarred lips slowly starting to fade. toji’s getting more ‘n more pussy drunk, and he knows it too. “mhh, like that. fuck me good.”

“you talk too much,” you teasingly grip his chin, watching as his leafy verdant eyes gaze into yours. he’s hard - and not only is he hard but he’s insanely sensitive. toji scoffs, but that soon disappears the moment your hips start to move. “hnghh,” you suck in a brisk breath, eyes nearly widening once you start to feel the gaping, lewd stretch. his cock was long ‘n tall—merrily expanding through your cunt within each thick inch.

one thrust - just one fuckin’ thrust and that was all it took for you to nearly break. he’s huge, and you whimper the second you feel his plump swollen sack kiss near the undersides of your bare ass. “oh yeah? make me shut up then.”

famous last words.

because even though toji’s all talk, he gets humbled right away the minute you change him as a person entirely all from your sweet, mesmerizing cunt. toji leans back, groaning gruffly against your ear as faint gurgled whines depart from his throat. you’re riding him good, shutting him with your pussy—humbling him with your hips. oh, you’re just riding him into complete oblivion. toji was left speechless, and instead of you moaning his name, he was moaning yours.

“ngh, fuck. god, ‘s good don’t fuckin’ stop workin’ those hips, s- shit,” he’d huskily snarl, squeezing the plastic can within his palm, crushing its shape. toji’s cologne scent was loud, and it completely rubbed off against your skin as you moaned. you were grinding against him back ‘n forth, whining continuously before milliseconds passed by and you’re now starting to feel your stomach churn churn churn.

each eye rolling, toe-curling feeling that twists in the depths of your insides due to his cock makes you sob out moan after moan. you try to silence yourself by sneaking a few needy kisses near toji’s scarred lip. he grunts with a clenched jaw, returning the gesture with a hand glued to your ass.

it moves like water - toji was always an ass man, and now that he was finally living the dream, he spanked you again, and again, and again.

the jiggle against his palm makes his dick throb, and you feel it right inside of your cunt. “doin’ okay, toji?” you tease breathlessly, watching as a shiny string of saliva tears away from both lips. you felt him squeeze his way wholly inside of your fleshy entrance, ploddingly and sloppily thrusting in and out.

“tch. less talkin’ more ridin—oh fuck,” he’d gruff, his shoulders slackening as you sensually rutted your hips further into him. god, you were teasing him so much and your wet, filthy cunt was to blame. he wanted more, more more. the way you moved in such a relentless manner drove toji crazy and he was starting to think maybe the two of you were just more than roommates. your pussy had that kind of power, and it’s not even seconds later before toji’s about to cum.

but surprisingly, he ends up lifting you with burly arms, pulling out with a speed equivalent to the flash. he moans, staring at his leaking reddened tip that’s dribbling from the slit with sticky droplets of warm cum. he’s heaving, staring back at your sparkly-coated cunt before he makes you recline back against the couch.

“f- fuck, ‘s much. lie back, baby. l- lie back for me,” and once you do, he merely pounces on you. toji exhales out a deep, heavy sigh before aligning his swollen tip near your dripping cunt. “god, look at ‘er,” he grunts, and you could hear the tremor in his voice as he’s spraying his seed on the outer part of your wetted entrance. it’s long, striped stripes of ivory ropes that paint your bare tender clit and he licks his lips at the filthy sight. “hah, so fuckin’ hot. milkin’ me like that, f- fuck.”

“you came pretty quick, toji,” you jibe, spreading your sopping cunt lips apart so he could play between your legs some more. with a loud ‘thwack’, toji smacks his swollen tip against your pussy, smearing his blushing crownhead up ‘n down your stained crying slit. it’s so messy, and you watch as his tongue briefly sticks out between his ruby lips.

“let’s not talk ‘bout that,” toji grumps, and you moan the second he’s re-aligning himself. his fat girth was ready to introduce itself yet again to your swollen insides. toji’s still panting, and you can see how flustered he was because he’s visibly pouting. “f- fuck, i . . i need a minute,” and he pulls back out, slouching back against the couch. you crawl over toward him and within a split second he wraps an arm around you.

yeah, he’s obsessed.

“give me . . a minute,” he huffs, his chiseled abs flexing through his grey dingy tank. toji pulls you into his beefy hardened pecs before staring down at you, and your eyes widen once he kisses the top of your forehead. “next time, ‘m gonna last ten- no, thirteen rounds.”

“sureee thing, big guy.”

spoiler - he doesn’t.

#INO TAKUMA aka the virgin who…falls in love?!

ino who moans out a sweet gasping, “f- fuuck me,” the second he’s easing his way inside of you for the first time. his dick feels soft for a second, tenderly assuaging through your insides before he whimpers at the new feeling. ino’s heavily panting out short breaths, staring at your bare exposed body that prettily sits underneath him before he moans. “ ‘m not hurtin’ you, right, angel?”

“no, no. ‘m fine, ino,” you let off a soft sigh, the lower parts of your legs snaking around his waist. ino grunts, going as slow as he can. he’s barely even a few inches in and he’s already sweating profusely. “easyy, that’s it, baby,” you reassure him with labored breaths, staring into his droopy hooded eyes. ino’s beanie was on the verge of sliding off the side of his head before he sucks his teeth at your gripping warmth. “hold my hand, here,” and you could feel his body shudder the moment you intertwine your fingers against his.

he’s big, and he knows it. ino scrunches his dark brows into a furrow, trying his best to blindly navigate his way inside of your cunt. right away, you’re clenching around him tight, locking your unstable legs around his waist before hearing him let off a sweet whimper.

“ugh, you feel so good, so good,” and within each wet-sounding thrust, his words start to pitch. it gets lower ‘n lower, raspy and husky. ino’s skin starts to glue against you thanks to the splotches of sweat dampening against each other before he huffs. “tell me it's too much, ngh—fuck,” and his eyes soften the moment you cup his face. “s- sorryy, am i talkin’ too much?”

“ ‘s okay, ino,” you inhale, and his pace starts to get quicker. vast, thorough thrusts make you feel every inch. his frantic rhythm rocks into you steadily, causing the bed to constantly wail out pathetic whiney creaks. you brush a thumb across the side of his cheek before moaning, feeling his tip zigzag its way across your sensitive g-spot. “ah! right there, ino. there, baby t- thereee.”

“there, oh- okay,” he tries to take note, studying your body’s movements. into felt his cock twitch at your reaction. so cute. you’d clench around him tight before arching your back, dragging your nails down his soft skin. ino’s stretching you out to the very limit, plummeting his dick into you over and over until you’re seeing nothing but cloudy blobs of white. you hadn’t even realized your eyes were lulling near the back of your head before he cheekily pointed it out. “heh, you look kinda silly like this pretty girl.”

you shoot him a playful glare whilst he’s still driving himself into your mid-thrust and ino sheepishly snickers. “sorry, sorry,” and with a sticky smooch, he brings his lips up against yours. ino’s pace starts to pick up more and more, championing his chiseled askew hips into you. “ah, i think ‘m gonna cum though, shitshitshit,” and as he’s rambling, ino starts to feel his hips into you quicker. “hah, lovie- tell me what ‘ta do. where do i f- finish,” he’d huff breathlessly, sliding his scarred hands near the sides of your waist. “tell me, pretty.”

“inside, baby,” you whisper against the shell of his ear. ino’s eyes widen - darkening, and he groans. the way you talked to him so sweet in his ear, even licking against the outer lobe makes him shiver. you’re a tease, and he only wanted more. ino wanted more . . of you. “wan’ you inside.”

“say it again,” he shakily whines against your neck, nipping a few invisible kisses near the juncture of your exposed collarbone. you tasted sweet, and ino’s mind spun cogwheels throughout each second he’s spent buried inside of you. “talk ‘ta me in that pretty voice- wanna hear you again. p- please.”

with a sobbing mewl from the brief twinges that slowly form into pleasure—you repeat yourself in a desperate mewling cry of, “inside, ino. please, f- fuck me,” and oh- if you saw the look on his face. his heart’s pounding as he’s mercilessly driving his hips into you at full fuckin’ throttle.

ino’s groaning into your neck, feeling his body growing limp before a lengthy multitude of seconds goes by and he’s cumming, hard.

it’s a thin hefty load - runny, stringy ribbons of feverish hot cum that splatters deep inside of you.

ino melts like a puddle into your embrace as you wrap your arms around him. “fuuuck, i lo-” he pauses, getting silenced by a shattering breath. your pussy’s got him secured on a leash, and he’s groaning once he hears himself pour such slimy amounts way into your womb. it sprays everywhere, painting inside and out.

ino kisses his teeth sharply, pressing one more kiss near the tip of your nose before moaning. “h- heh, think i love you, angel,” and you moan, feeling him slowly raise your leg, tossing it over your shoulder.

a hand of his creeps between your gloss-coated, gooey legs that practically stuck together before he pulls out midway, smearing a palm against your stuffed pussy. “ ‘n i love her especially, s- so much.”

[beloveds-embrace]

part 2 of baker!reader + do not ever ask me to write accents lmao i suck at those 💀😭 and a huge thank you to all the sweet and dessert suggestions! i couldn't add all of them, but oh my god did i love all of them and choosing between them was sooo hard (that's what she said). if your dessert didn't make it here im soo sorry 😭

It was a quiet morning when you finally decided to reopen the bakery. The town had been whispering, speculating about the sudden disappearance of your husband—tragic, they said, to be found mauled by a bear in the woods. You hadn’t shed a tear, hadn’t flinched at the news. Maybe that was cruel of you, but after what you had endured, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything for him anymore. Not fear, not sadness—just relief.

And now, with the bakery open once again, you felt lighter. Freer.

The 141 boys were there first thing, as you had hoped. Each one walking into the cozy space like they belonged there. Their heavy, winter boots made the wooden floors creak, their towering frames somehow making the space feel intimate rather than intimidating. You smiled as the familiar smell of fresh bread and sugar lingered in the air, the warmth of the ovens cocooning you and the rest of the bakery in comfort. Free from that terrible man you’d called a husband, it was as if the world itself was taking on a more vibrant color.

“Morning, sweetheart,” John greeted you, his eyes crinkling beneath his hat, though there was something watchful in his gaze.

“Bonnie,” Johnny chirped, leaning on the counter, his eyes sparkling as they usually did when he spoke to you. “Place smells heavenly as always.”

“You’re open today, huh?” Kyle said, grinning as he eyed the display of pastries lined up neatly behind the glass. “Missed our favorite baker, honestly.”

Simon didn’t say anything at first, just gave you a long, steady look from behind his mask. You knew he had seen the signs. He was the only one who had seen the bruises, had taken your hands so gently that day and whispered that promise. You hadn’t asked for it, hadn’t said anything in return, but you had trusted him all the same. You are glad you did. You are so glad it’d been him to see.

Now, as you wiped your hands on your apron and stepped out from behind the counter, your heart was lighter than it had been in months. “Everything’s on the house today,” you said, your smile wider than it had been in ages. “For you guys, at least. After all… I’ve got a few new things for you to try.”

Soap raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Is that so? Then we’re in for a treat, eh boys?”

You went back to the counter, pulling out a few trays and plates, your hands moving quickly as you started setting them down in front of the men, watching their eyes light up at the spread. “I’ve been experimenting,” you said, your voice light, almost teasing. “For John, I’ve got pecan pie. Thought you might like it—something a bit rich, a bit warm.” Like you, goes unsaid but you hoped he still heard it.

John’s eyes gleamed as he accepted the slice you placed in front of him. “Always knew you were a mind reader,” he murmured with a chuckle, cutting into the pie and taking a bite. The smile that spread across his face was slow, but appreciative.

“For you, Kyle, lemon meringue tarts. Something sharp, refreshing. A little tangy,” you said, setting the plate in front of him. “And a bit sweet, too. Had a feeling you’d like it!”

Kyle laughed, picking up the tart and admiring it at first. “You know me too well.” He took a bite, his eyes widening at the burst of lemon on his tongue and then groaning in delight. “Perfect, as always.”

Simon watched you closely, and when you placed a plate of apple fritters in front of him, his gaze softened just slightly. “Made these with you in mind,” you said, your voice gentle. “Thought you’d appreciate something classic, Si. Simple, but comforting.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just nodded in that way of his, taking the fritter in his gloved hand. When he took a bite, his eyes closed briefly, and you could see the silent approval in the way his shoulders seemed to relax ever so slightly.

“And for you, Johnny,” you giggled, setting down a small bowl of Cranachan in front of him. “Thought you might like something traditional- whisky, raspberries, oats, and cream. Feels like a bit of home, doesn’t it? At least I hope so. It was my first time making it.”

Johnny beamed all the same, eagerly reaching for a spoon. “Ah, bonnie, you’re spoiling us.”

But it wasn’t just them you were thinking of. You had made a fresh batch of focaccia bread for yourself, but this wasn’t just any bread- it was bold, spiced with rosemary and topped with chilli flakes and garlic. It was a reflection of your own newfound boldness. You’d been quiet, subdued for so long. Now, you wanted to feel alive again.Perhaps it might seem corny, but this focaccia bread meant to signify that for you.

You set a slice of the focaccia on a plate for yourself, taking a bite as you sat with them, your smile not faltering for a second. It was savoury- settling warmth in your stomach. “I think this might be my new favorite, actually.” you said with a soft laugh. In your mind, you were already thinking of making and selling more of it.

They didn’t say much in response, still tasting their own desserts, but you could feel their appreciation, their understanding, in the quiet way they accepted it.

The rest of the bakery was alive with the smell of freshly baked treats: rich brownies, soft sugar cookies, fluffy cronuts, and delicate eclairs. Tres leches cakes sat next to pumpkin pies, while apple and custard empanadas filled the air with their sweet, warm scent. Cheesecakes, cardamom rolls, strawberry lamingtons—the selection was almost overwhelming, but everything sold well. Especially the bear claw pastries. You smiled softly to yourself at the irony. The bearclaw pastries might also be your new favorite, right alongside the focaccia.

Johnny noticed it immediately, the little twitch of your lips, and raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny, bonnie?”

You waved him off, shaking your head. “Oh, nothing. Just… the bear claws. They’ve been selling really well lately. Thought it was… fitting.”

Simon’s eyes flicked to you, then to the bear claw pastries sitting neatly in a display case. A slow understanding crossed his gaze, but he didn’t say anything. Just a slight nod, the corner of his mouth twitching, the silent acknowledgment of the truth that you all shared. You had no doubt the others knew about it as well- maybe even had a hand in it. Such incredible men.

And for the first time, standing in your bakery, surrounded by warmth and the quiet camaraderie of the men you had come to trust, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. The past was behind you. Now, you had a future to look forward to—one filled with new beginnings, layers to unfold like a mille-feuille crepe cake, and the quiet reassurance that you were no longer alone.

“Here’s to new beginnings,” you said, raising your cup of coffee, your smile bright and genuine.

The boys raised their cups in return, their expressions soft but full of unspoken promises. “To new beginnings,” they echoed, and for the first time in a long time, you believed it. Especially because you could see the way they were looking at you.

masterpost

[winxanity-ii]

SACRILEGIOUS DEVOTION [1/3]

ship: father charlie x fem!nun!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (oral sex/f. receiving; overstimulation; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery) word count: 3.6k a/n: So, Father Charlie is out here losing all his morals and sanity on Grotesquerie and my mind couldn't help but match it, so what's a better idea other than channeling all the religious trauma/journey into a spicy one-shot? i for one feel like it's a mini-therapy, but enough rambling, enjoy 😩🫶🏾 i'm in love with a holy man, mother 😔…. second part: 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 and final part: 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

Father Charlie Mayhew was a sick man.

Not in the manner of flesh, but of spirit. He could feel the sickness festering in the quiet corners of his heart, a sinful yearning that had taken root there, twisting itself around his thoughts like creeping ivy.

It was a sickness that, he believed, made him a grotesque parody of the holy man he was meant to be. For how could he call himself righteous, devoted, when every whisper of prayer felt stained by the way his eyes followed you, Sister ____?

You were a vision of purity, an embodiment of the kind of gentle devotion that Father Charlie envied and craved all at once.

He watched you from a distance, always careful not to draw your gaze, afraid of what you might see if you looked too deeply. How dutiful you were, sweeping the church aisle with a focus that made him forget the dust and see only the graceful motion of your hands.

The sun, filtered through stained glass, seemed to seek you out, casting colors on your habit as if to mark you as someone far beyond his grasp, almost holy in your mundane tasks.

It was in the mornings, when he heard the soft chime of your laughter in the courtyard as you fed the pigeons, that he felt the deepest sting of his wretchedness.

The world seemed simpler in those moments, your laughter echoing off the stone walls, the warmth of early sun painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. He wondered if you knew how your kindness drew even the animals to you, their heads dipping into your palms as if receiving communion.

There was a stillness to you, a gentleness in every gesture.

The worst of it was during your services. Father Charlie had seen you on your knees before, hands folded in earnest prayer, your lips moving softly as you whispered your devotion to God.

He would stand at the back of the chapel, watching with a mixture of awe and something far darker. He told himself it was admiration, but the truth festered beneath that facade.

It was longing, a hunger that ached at the edges of his soul.

A storm raged outside the convent one evening, winds battering the church walls with a fury that mirrored the tempest building in his chest. The clouds were bloated, dark as his thoughts, and thunder rolled across the sky with a violence that shook even the faith he held so dear.

You had come to his chambers in the dead of night, your knock barely audible over the howling wind. He had been preparing for bed, freshly out of the shower, wearing only his boxers when he heard you at the door.

The creak of the old wood seemed to echo forever as he opened it, and there you stood, eyes wide, looking so impossibly fragile in the dim candlelight of the corridor. Your modest night slip clung to your form, the thin fabric shifting in the draft that sneaked in from the hallway.

Charlie's breath had caught in his throat at the sight of you, innocence incarnate, seeking refuge with him.

He hesitated for only a moment before allowing you in, quickly wrapping himself in a silk robe that hung loosely on his shoulders, barely tied. He knew he should not let you enter, but there was something in the way you looked at him—so trusting, so devoted—that made him abandon every rational thought.

You had come asking to pray with him, your soft voice trembling as you spoke. The storm outside seemed like a reflection of the turmoil within him as he let you step past the threshold, closing the door behind you.

Now, you were here, kneeling before him, your eyes upturned and wide, waiting for his command, for his instruction like the obedient servant of God that you were.

Your soft voice brought him out of his thoughts, a gentle, "Father...?"

Charlie could only lament to himself how sinfully pure you looked. He hummed softly, his eyes dark as they trailed over you, lingering on the curve of your shoulders, the delicate line of your neck.

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across your skin, highlighting the innocence that made his hunger all the more unbearable.

"Yes, forgive me, Sister. Let us now pray," he finally said, his voice low and rough, the words nearly swallowed by the sound of the wind outside. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your forehead, and you leaned into the touch without hesitation, your eyes closing as if his hand was a blessing.

He swallowed hard, his thoughts spiraling deeper into the forbidden desires he had tried so desperately to keep buried.

He began to pray, his voice low, raspy, each word a struggle against the chaos inside him. "Heavenly Father, we come before you tonight..." But the words felt hollow, their meaning slipping away as he watched you, kneeling so obediently at his feet.

His eyes darkened, wandering further down, tracing the lines of your form. The way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, the soft rise and fall of your chest with each breath—it all seemed to pull him further from the sanctity of the moment.

He should have been thinking of God, of salvation, of the purity of the prayer—but instead, he was thinking of you, of the way the thin fabric clung to your skin, the soft curve of your breasts visible through the modest slip.

He licked his lips, his gaze fixed on the delicate line of your collarbone, the way it rose and fell with each breath you took.

The more he spoke, the less the words mattered. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, spreading through his body, his thoughts growing more erratic, each word of the prayer slipping further from its sacred meaning, twisting into something profane, something filthy. "Protect us from all evil..." he whispered as he traced the line of your jaw with his thumb, the words a bitter irony as he felt himself drawn further into the darkness of his desires.

His hand moved lower, fingers trailing down your neck, lingering at the hollow of your throat. His touch was gentle, but there was a weight behind it, a hunger that he could no longer deny.

He could almost see the curve of your bare skin beneath the thin fabric, the outline of your body that he should not be imagining. He tried to focus on the prayer, but every word felt like a lie. He let out a shaky breath, the prayer faltering on his lips. "Guide us... guide us in your light," he managed, his voice thick with the weight of his longing.

The storm outside raged on, the wind howling as if to warn him, but Father Charlie could no longer hear it. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the rush of blood in his ears as he looked down at you, so trusting, so willing.

As the final words of the prayer fell from his lips—"Amen"—you echoed him, your voice soft and unwavering. You blinked open your eyes, looking up at him with such innocence and Charlie felt himself slip past the point of no return.

He knew that no amount of prayer could ever cleanse him of what he wanted, that he could no longer pretend, no longer fight against the pull that drew him to you—the sweet, precious nun who had unknowingly captured his very soul.

Father Charlie stood, his robe slipping slightly from his shoulders, exposing the toned muscle beneath. The wind howled outside, and thunder bellowed again, followed by a flash of lightning that lit the room in a brief, startling blaze of white.

You were still kneeling before him, your wide eyes following his every movement, the flickering light casting you in both shadow and radiance.

Charlie bent at the waist, his fingers reaching out to cup your jaw, thumb caressing your bottom lip as his half-lidded eyes trailed over your face. "Sister ____," he murmured, his voice dripping with a twisted kind of affection, his name for you almost reverent, as though you were something sacred, something he could worship in his own unholy way.

You blinked, shifting slightly beneath his touch, a soft stutter escaping your lips. "F-Father...?"

He grasped one of your hands, his fingers wrapping around yours, and as he stood, he gently urged you to rise with him. His gaze never left your face, his eyes dark and full of something raw. He began to speak, his voice barely more than a murmur, the words heavy with confession. "As a man of God, there are expectations placed upon me," he started, his tone wavering between remorse and something darker, something that made his grip on your hand tighten. "I am meant to guide, to protect, to remain steadfast in my faith."

His other hand moved, slowly pulling your trembling hand against his bare stomach, pressing your palm against the hard planes of his abdomen.

You gasped, your eyes wide as you looked up at him, your hand trembling beneath his. The heat of his skin burned into your palm, the muscles flexing beneath your touch.

Charlie continued, his voice lowering, growing more intense as he spoke. "But these days... these days, Sister, I find myself at war. At war with desires that threaten to consume me..." His words trailed off, and he let out a low hum as he rubbed your hand across his stomach, the movement slow, deliberate.

Your hand hesitated for a moment, the warmth of his skin making you tremble as you instinctively pulled back. But his grip was firm, guiding you back, and slowly, tentatively, your fingers splayed across his stomach, your touch feather-light.

You swallowed hard, your eyes flickering down before you took a timid step closer, as if drawn by some invisible force. Your gaze shifted to the side, your cheeks warming with embarrassment at the proximity, at the way you could feel his heart beating beneath your palm.

Father Charlie's eyes never left you, and he could see every ounce of hesitation, every flicker of uncertainty that danced across your face. He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing against your forehead as he spoke, his voice a low murmur, "There's no need to be afraid, Sister. You are safe here... with me."

You blinked, your lashes fluttering as you dared to look up at him, your eyes meeting his through the veil of uncertainty.

There was something in his gaze, something dark and magnetic that pulled at you, made your pulse race. His thumb brushed the edge of your jaw; the touch almost comforting, but there was an intensity behind it that made you shiver.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded slowly, not trusting your voice to speak, your fingers trembling slightly against his skin. He smiled, a slow, almost predatory curve of his lips, and he hummed again, satisfied with your silent answer.

His other hand moved to rest against the small of your back, pulling you just a little bit closer, his robe parting further, exposing more of his chest.

Your breath hitched as you felt the distance between you closing, the way his body seemed to envelop yours. You could barely think, your mind clouded with the storm of emotions and the strange, electric pull you felt toward him.

His thumb traced along your bottom lip, his eyes darkening as he watched you. You felt your pulse quicken, your knees weakening under the intensity of his gaze.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and something darker, something that made your heart pound even harder. His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your body react, leaning in just slightly, as if craving more of his warmth, his touch.

His fingers trailed lower, coaxing your hand along his body, and you felt the tension, the desire in every muscle. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a husky whisper, "Let me show you, Sister ____... let me show you what devotion truly means."

He kissed you then, his lips crashing against yours like a man starved. His mouth moved hungrily, tasting, devouring, and you felt his tongue lick into your mouth, coaxing a soft, surprised whimper from your throat. His groan vibrated against your lips, the sound raw and desperate.

Your head spun, your senses overwhelmed by the taste of him, the sheer need in his kiss.

You pulled back, gasping for air, your lips tingling from the force of his kiss. He didn't give you a moment to recover; his lips moved to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin.

He nipped at your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp, to make your knees weaken beneath you. The heat of his mouth trailed down, his tongue flicking out to soothe each small bite, and you felt your body trembling, a warmth pooling low in your belly.

Charlie's hands were relentless, holding you steady as your body threatened to give out, your knees buckling as his mouth worked against your skin. He pulled back only long enough to whisper your name, his voice thick with something between reverence and hunger.

Before you knew it, he had scooped you up, his arms strong and sure as he carried you towards his bed. Your breath hitched, your fingers clinging to his robe as he moved, each step filled with purpose.

He set you down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath your weight. His eyes roamed over you, dark and filled with desire, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

Father Charlie moved quickly, his hands deft as he pushed your slip off your shoulders, the fabric sliding down your skin and pooling around your waist. His lips followed the path of the falling slip, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your shoulders, his warm breath fanning across your skin.

You shivered beneath his touch, the cool air of the room prickling at your exposed skin, your nipples pebbling in response.

His eyes darkened at the sight of you, and he let out a low groan, his hands running along your bare arms, feeling the way you trembled beneath him. "You're like a goddess," he murmured, his voice thick with reverence and lust. "Perfect. Untouched. A temptation I can't resist." His lips found your collarbone, kissing, nipping, his words vibrating against your skin.

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, your heart pounding as his lips moved lower, trailing down the center of your chest, his hands spreading across your back, urging you to arch into him. His kisses were relentless, each one making your breath catch, making your body react in ways that felt both unfamiliar and thrilling.

You couldn't stop the soft whimper that escaped your lips, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you, unsure of what to do, where to touch.

Charlie pulled back for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours, his gaze filled with hunger. He pushed you back against the bed, guiding you to lie down, his hands never leaving your body, his touch possessive, as if he couldn't bear to be without contact. He looked down at you, splayed out before him, your slip barely covering you, and he licked his lips, his eyes raking over every inch of your exposed skin.

"Look at you," he whispered, his voice dripping with a mix of adoration and hunger. "So innocent, so pure... and all mine." He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss, his hands working the slip further down your body, baring you completely to him.

The cool air made you shiver, your body exposed, vulnerable, and you couldn't help the way your legs shifted, instinctively trying to close.

Charlie's hands moved to your knees, gently but firmly pushing them apart, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched your reaction. His lips moved from your mouth, trailing down your jaw to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin as he groaned against you.

He pulled the slip away entirely, tossing it aside, his hands roaming over your bare skin, mapping every inch as though he were committing you to memory. "You are... perfection," he muttered, his voice strained, filled with a hunger that made your breath hitch.

His lips moved lower, trailing down your body, leaving a heated path across your chest, your stomach, and further down. His hands were strong, keeping your legs pinned open to the bed, his fingers pressing into your thighs with a possessive hold. He kissed along your inner thighs, his warm breath fanning over your skin, making you shiver, anticipation coiling in your belly.

You instinctively tried to scoot back, to move away as you felt his breath getting closer to your core, but Charlie's grip tightened, his hands holding you firmly in place. He looked up at you, his eyes dark, almost predatory, as he whispered, "Stay still, Sister... let me worship you."

He breathed you in, a deep, satisfied groan rumbling from his chest. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as if savoring the scent of you, and then he leaned in, his tongue licking a slow, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit.

A squeal, half surprise and half pleasure, escaped your lips, your back arching slightly off the bed.

Father Charlie's tongue moved with a purpose, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking gently before flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. His hands kept your legs spread, his grip firm and unyielding as he worked his mouth against you, his groans vibrating against your core.

He was relentless, his mouth moving with a hunger that made your head spin, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you, trying to ground yourself as waves of pleasure washed over you.

You could feel his smooth skin against your inner thighs, the sensation only adding to the overwhelming pleasure that built inside you. His tongue moved in slow, teasing circles, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against you, his eyes flicking up to watch your every reaction.

The sight of you—your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the way your chest heaved with every ragged breath—only seemed to spur him on, his groans growing louder as he tasted you.

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, your hips bucking against his mouth, a whimper slipping from your lips. Charlie's hands moved to hold your hips down, pinning you to the bed as he continued, his tongue delving into you, his nose brushing against your clit as he worked, utterly consumed by the taste of you.

He was lost in it, in you, his tongue moving faster, his mouth desperate as he devoured you.

You gasped, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, your body trembling beneath him. The heat built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter, until you felt like you might break apart. His name fell from your lips, a breathless plea, and he groaned in response, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure through you.

Your back arched off the bed, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, your body ready to fall apart under his touch.

Your first orgasm washed over you without warning, a blinding wave of pleasure that left you feeling weightless, your entire body trembling as you came undone beneath him. You melted into the bed like butter, your limbs going limp as the intensity of it left you breathless.

Charlie's mouth moved against you with a fervent hunger, drinking in every bit of your release as if it were the most sacred offering.

A small whimper escaped your lips as the sensation grew overwhelming, your body growing sensitive to his touch. He didn't stop, his tongue moving lazily, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from you, his mouth still savoring you.

Your grip on his head shifted, your fingers now pushing at him, trying to get him to stop, but his hands only gripped your thighs tighter, keeping you in place. "W-Wait..." The heat in your stomach was already starting to build again, the slow, deliberate movements of his tongue igniting another fire deep within you.

Charlie groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core, his face buried even further between your legs, his tongue relentless.

Your breath came in quick, shallow gasps, your body trembling once more as the pleasure built. You could feel another orgasm approaching, your mind spinning as you tried to form words, but all that left your throat were broken, incoherent sounds—static that filled the room as you babbled.

You tried to scoot back, to move away from the overwhelming sensation, but Charlie's strong arms wrapped around your hips, yanking you back down, his grip unyielding. His own hips pressed into the bedding below, his desperation evident as he devoured you.

You teetered on the edge once more, the pleasure too much, too intense, until it finally broke over you again, your body arching, your mind going completely blank as you came undone a second time.

The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of his mouth on you, the heat, the pressure, the overwhelming ecstasy that left you gasping for air.

As you came down from your high, your body trembling, Father Charlie finally pulled back, his lips and chin glistening. He stared up at you with dark, lidded eyes, his expression filled with hunger, with desire that seemed insatiable.

There was no hesitation, no regret—only a raw need that made it clear he no longer cared about going against his vows, no longer cared about the priesthood or what was right.

All that mattered to him was you.

A/N: i'm sorry, i just watched Grotesquerie last night and i've become obssessed.... ugh, the tension between father charlie and sister megan is just *chefs kiss* it's clear that megan is obviously meant to be y/n and the screenplay was written in the intent of it being catered to the female gaze because wheeeeww 😩...

[mephisto-reporting]

Husband?

About: How does he react when you accidentally call him your 'husband'? Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. My inbox is open for prompts and requests :)

RAFAYEL

The evening was going smoother than expected, considering Rafayel had dragged you along to one of his many gallery showings. He had made a big deal about how you should be the one showing off his work to the public, claiming he didn’t want to deal with the “art-snobs." Yet, the second you both arrived, he quickly preoccupied himself on his phone, leaving you to handle most of the small talk.

One of the visitors, a curious older woman, was admiring a painting of his, a chaotic burst of color with soft hints of golden light. You were discussing Rafayel’s "creative process" (whatever that was—he hadn't told you much before retreating to his phone), when she asked how long you’d been working with him.

“Oh, it’s been a while now. It’s honestly amazing seeing him grow like this—my husb—” You froze mid-sentence, realizing the slip just as it left your mouth.

"Husband?"

The word hung in the air for barely a second before you felt Rafayel’s presence shift. His head shot up like a bolt of lightning, his playful, cunning eyes locking onto yours. You could practically feel his grin before you even dared to glance over. You didn’t even need to turn around to feel his gaze burning into you, practically shouting, Oh? Husband, you say?

“Husband, huh?” Rafayel drawled, pocketing his phone and sauntering toward you with that signature smirk of his. “I didn’t realize we were making things official tonight. If I’d known, I’d have worn something even more dazzling.”

You flushed, attempting to stammer out a correction, but he was far too pleased to let you off the hook that easily. He leaned casually against the gallery wall, one arm crossing his chest as he dramatically placed a hand over his heart.

He gently took your hand in his, his dramatic flair dialed up to maximum as he pressed an exaggerated kiss to your knuckles, clearly relishing the moment. "I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised. Who wouldn’t want to marry someone as charming as me?"

The visitor chuckled awkwardly, clearly not sure whether to stay or go, but Rafayel was already having way too much fun. “Of course, as your loving husband,” he continued, drawing out the word in a singsong voice, “it’s only fitting that I’m showered with even more attention now, isn’t it? I expect lots of praise, darling. I mean, just look at me." He struck a faux thought-provoking pose, tilting his head and flipping a lock of his perfectly tousled hair.

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but at the same time, his antics made you laugh. “I didn’t mean to—"

"Oh no, no,” he interrupted, wagging his finger playfully. “You can’t take it back now. The word’s out, Miss Bodyguard. You’ve called me your husband. That means you’re stuck with me. Forever.” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Does this mean I get to cheat at board games forever too?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you playfully swatted at his shoulder. “As if you needed a reason to cheat more!”

Rafayel laughed, that familiar bratty grin plastered across his face. “Well, if I’m your husband now, I think it’s only fair I get first dibs on everything. Cards, claw machines—oh, and don’t forget, I demand the comfiest seat when we binge-watch our shows.”

Despite his teasing, the warmth in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. You could see the genuine delight he took in your slip-up, how pleased he was at the thought, even if he’d never admit it outright.

“Fine, fine,” you sighed dramatically, playing along. “But don’t expect me to let you win at everything, ‘husband.’”

Rafayel beamed, and for a moment, that bratty, carefree mask of his slipped, just a little. He tugged you closer, his voice softening as he murmured, “Deal.” Then, just as quickly, he switched back to his usual, cheeky self. “Now, let’s go, wife. You’re required to be by my side while I survive this boring night. ”

Shaking your head, you laughed, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re impossible.”

The woman, watching the scene unfold with a warm smile, laughed. “You two make quite the pair.”

“Oh, we do, don’t we?” Rafayel quipped before lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear, leaning in ever so slightly. “You’ve really outdone yourself, calling me that in front of witnesses. Now they’ll all expect a wedding invitation.”

Your face burned as you tried to shush him, but he was loving every second of it. He tilted his head, his hair catching the light as his smile softened into something more genuine, the bratty exterior fading just a bit. “Still… I can’t say I hate the sound of it,” he murmured, brushing a finger lightly under your chin before pulling back with a playful wink. “I might just get used to hearing it.”

You could only manage a huff of exasperation, but deep down, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter at the way his teasing had just a hint of sincerity behind it.

Rafayel, always dramatic, and yet somehow, just when you least expected it, a little bit sweet.

ZAYNE

You and Zayne were in the middle of your usual weekly grocery run, efficiently dividing and conquering your list to save time. He’d taken off towards the produce section while you headed for the rice aisle. As you browsed the different varieties, a middle-aged man beside you struggled with lifting a heavy bag of rice.

"Need a hand?" you asked, stepping in to help. The man smiled gratefully as you hoisted the bag into his cart with ease.

"Thank you, young lady," he said, rubbing his wrist. "My arthritis is flaring up today. Getting old’s no fun."

You offered him a sympathetic smile. “No problem at all. My husband’s a doctor, actually. I’m sure he’d tell you to take it easy on that wrist."

The man nodded in agreement, offering you one last thanks before heading off. You turned back to your cart, completely unaware of the word you had just let slip—husband—or the fact that Zayne had returned in time to hear it.

You felt him step up behind you, his presence calm yet undeniably magnetic. When you finally glanced over, he was standing there, hands in his pockets, a small, amused smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Husband, hmm?" he said softly, his tone more curious than teasing. "That's... new."

You froze for a second, eyes widening as you realized what you’d said.  You opened your mouth, the words tripping over each other in a rush. “I didn’t— I mean, it just—slipped out. We’re not actually—I mean, obviously, we’re not—” You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, and no amount of backpedaling was helping.

Zayne didn’t seem in a rush to let you off the hook. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining with an ease that made your heart stutter. “You know,” he said, voice as calm as ever, “if this is your way of bringing it up, there are smoother ways to do it.” His teasing was subtle, barely perceptible if you didn’t know him well, but it was there in the gentle tug of his smile.

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Zayne, I didn’t mean to—”

But Zayne, ever level-headed, merely took your hand in his, his thumb gently brushing against your knuckles. “Relax,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “It’s not like I mind the idea.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, and you looked up at him in surprise. There was a softness in his usually stoic gaze, the kind that made your stomach flip. He continued, his voice measured but affectionate, “Seems like the next logical step, doesn’t it? My parents have been asking me when I’m going to take that step with you for a while now.”

His calm tone made the statement feel both casual and monumental at the same time. “Wait, your parents…?” you started, blinking as your brain processed this new information.

“Mhm,” Zayne replied, still holding your hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “They’ve been pretty vocal about it, actually. But I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

The right moment. Those words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of what he was saying. He was serious—calm and casual, as always, but serious. Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. It was just you and Zayne in that grocery aisle, hands linked, talking about a future you hadn’t even realized you both wanted.

“Only if you wanted to, of course,” he added, his thumb still tracing soft circles on your hand. “I wouldn’t do anything unless we both agreed.”

You stared at him, a smile slowly spreading across your face despite the initial shock. “You’re really suggesting this now? In the middle of a grocery store?”

Zayne smirked, his usual pragmatic self. “Well, we’re already talking about it. Might as well make use of the time.” He glanced down at your joined hands, his tone softening again. “Besides, I think it’s worth discussing what our future looks like, don’t you?”

Your heart swelled at his words, and the warmth of his hand in yours was enough to make you feel grounded, no matter how your emotions were spinning. “Yeah,” you said, smiling as you squeezed his hand gently. “I think it’s definitely worth talking about.”

Zayne leaned in closer, his lips brushing your temple in a rare public display of affection. “Good,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet kind of affection that made your chest tighten. “We’ll talk more later.”

He pulled away just as smoothly, picking up the cart with a practiced ease, as though he hadn’t just suggested the two of you start planning your future together. His eyes twinkled, a subtle tease hiding behind that usual calm exterior of his.

“And for the record,” he added, as the two of you moved on to the next aisle, “I wouldn’t mind hearing you call me ‘husband’ again.”

Your cheeks heated again, but this time, you didn’t bother trying to hide your smile. “Guess you’ll have to earn it first, doctor.”

Zayne chuckled softly, that familiar, grounded confidence in his voice. “I’ll be sure to work on that.”

SYLUS

The desert sun was relentless, and you could feel its heat pressing down on you as you stood beside Sylus, waiting to be seated inside the restaurant. He had dragged you out of Linkon on one of his mysterious ventures—no explanation, no warning, just the two of you thrust into the desert with little more than his cryptic directions. And while Sylus might have thrived in the N109 Zone's shadowy world, he was decidedly out of place here in the glaring sunlight,already starting to show hints of discomfort.

You glanced over at him, squinting slightly under the bright light. His expression was carefully controlled as always, but you noticed how his hand twitched subtly as if annoyed by the heat. The two of you had been waiting to be seated inside for a while now, and you decided it was time to speed things up.

Catching the attention of a passing waitress, you waved her over, putting on your best expression of concern. “Excuse me, my husband and I were hoping to be seated inside. I’m feeling a little faint under the harsh sun,” you said smoothly, the lie of you feeling faint rolling off your tongue with ease.

The word husband had slipped out so naturally, you didn’t even realize your mistake until the waitress nodded sympathetically and promised to get you a table indoors right away. As she walked off, you felt a cold gaze slide over you, and you turned to see Sylus staring down at you, one brow raised, a slow, dangerous smile creeping across his face.

“Husband?” His voice was smooth, but there was a teasing lilt beneath it. “Did I miss a wedding, wife?”

Your breath caught in your throat. "Wait—no, I didn't mean—" You started to stammer, heat rising to your cheeks, but before you could backtrack any further, Sylus’ arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. His grip was firm, possessive, and you could feel the smug amusement radiating off of him.

“I like the sound of that,” he murmured, leaning in just close enough for you to catch the scent of the desert air still clinging to his clothes. His lips ghosted near your ear, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Maybe this is a sign I should make it official.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing as you tried to keep your composure. “Official?” you echoed, your voice coming out a little more breathless than you intended. “What—what are you talking about?”

Sylus’ smirk widened, his amber eyes gleaming in the sun. “Oh? Cat got your tongue, Sweetie?” he teased, his tone dripping with amusement as he let his fingers trace a light circle on your hip. “You seemed so sure a moment ago, wife. But now? Speechless.”

You blinked, trying to gather your wits, but the sheer cockiness in his tone was making it hard to think straight. “I…I was just…helping us get a table,” you protested weakly, trying to pull away from his grip, but his hold only tightened.

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” he drawled, clearly reveling in your flustered state. “But now that you’ve set the bar so high, don’t tell me you’re going to back out on me. After all, you made quite the declaration back there.”

“I wasn’t—” You huffed, narrowing your eyes at him as you regained a sliver of your usual confidence. “You know it was a slip-up, Sylus. Don’t start getting ideas.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Ideas? Sweetie, I live for ideas.” His grip loosened just enough to let you step back, but the way he looked at you made it clear he wasn’t about to let you wriggle out of this one easily. “But let’s be honest, you didn’t hate it. Calling me your husband.”

Your face flushed again, but this time, you managed to meet his gaze without faltering. “I didn’t hate it,” you admitted, folding your arms, “but don’t go thinking you’ve won. I’m not about to sign any papers just because you liked hearing it.”

Sylus tilted his head, the playful smile never leaving his lips. “We’ll see about that, kitten” he said, the threat—or promise—hanging in the air between you as the waitress returned to guide you inside.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Please, Sylus. You couldn’t handle being married to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in with that infuriating smirk. “Oh, I think I could handle you just fine, sweetheart. You’re the one who might need to keep up.”

You shot back, “Keep up? I’d be carrying you the whole way.”

“Careful, Sweetie. That sounds an awful lot like a challenge.” He chuckled, his hand brushing against yours again. “Now that’s a tempting thought.”

“Tempting? Try exhausting,” you quipped.

As you walked beside him, you felt his arm brush against yours, and the sensation lingered far longer than it should have. Sylus, of course, said nothing, though the smug expression never quite left his face.

This was clearly far from over. And judging by the glint in his eye, Sylus was going to make sure you never forgot your little slip-up.

XAVIER

The café was quiet, filled with the soft murmur of patrons and the comforting smell of fresh pastries. You and Xavier had settled in for a peaceful afternoon, your table already adorned with a delightful array of treats. He had requested a simple drink—no whipped cream. The barista returned, placing his drink in front of him with an impressive mountain of whipped cream on top. Xavier, as calm and indifferent as ever, simply blinked at it, showing no signs of complaint. He wasn’t going to say a word about it, but that didn’t mean you were going to let it slide.

Excusing yourself, you raised a hand and called over a passing staff member. “Excuse me,” you began, with a polite smile. “My husband asked for no whipped cream on his drink, but it looks like there’s some here by mistake. Would it be alright for us to get it changed?”

The words tumbled out so smoothly that you didn’t even realize your slip-up until the staff member nodded apologetically and hurried back to fix the order. It was only when you turned back around that you saw Xavier sitting there, looking unusually... stunned.

He was blinking slowly at you, his expression softened by a hint of confusion and—was that amusement? “Husband?” he repeated, his soft voice barely more than a murmur.

Your face flushed as you fumbled for an explanation. “Oh, no, wait—! I didn’t mean—” You stammered, desperately trying to backtrack. “That just slipped out! I meant to say…uh my boyfriend? Partner? Date? Not—well, not husband, obviously…”

Xavier continued to blink, his face now showing just a little more expression than usual. The faintest curl of a smile played on his lips, and he tilted his head, considering your words. “I must’ve missed that chapter in the 'Guide to a Healthy Relationship,'” he said in that calm, unruffled way of his. “I didn’t know we’d moved on to the husband-and-wife stage.”

You groaned inwardly, burying your face in your hands. “I swear, it was an accident. Just ignore what I said.”

But Xavier was clearly in no mood to let it go. “So, dear wife,” he continued, completely unfazed by your protests, “do you think we’ll have matching mugs in our future? Maybe get a nice house, with a small garden and a picket fence?”

You shot him a playful glare, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to stay annoyed. “Very funny,” you muttered, though your lips were twitching at the corners, betraying your amusement.

“I think it has a nice ring to it,” Xavier said, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying this far more than you expected. “I wonder how long it would take for people in the association to start sending us wedding gifts. Or perhaps they'd just send weapons... you know, as a gesture of goodwill.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think wedding gifts are really their style, Xavier.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right,” he said thoughtfully, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But you did call me your husband in public. Shouldn’t we at least play the part now?”

Your cheeks were burning, but you couldn’t resist playing along with his ridiculousness. “Fine,” you said, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. “But just so you know, dear husband, you’ll be the one doing the dishes.”

Xavier chuckled softly, the sound rare and surprisingly warm. “As long as you take care of meals. A fair trade.”

You were about to retort when the waitress returned with Xavier’s newly corrected drink—this time, free of whipped cream. She set it down with a smile, glancing between the two of you as if she’d picked up on the playful atmosphere. “Here you go,” she said. “No whipped cream this time, sir.”

Xavier’s eyes glinted as he thanked her with a nod, and after she left, he looked back at you with a satisfied expression. “See? Husband perks,” he teased, taking a sip of his drink.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile spreading across your face. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he said, the teasing lilt in his voice gentler now. He took your hand under the table, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But... thank you,” he added after a beat, his voice softer and more sincere. “For speaking up for me.”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown off by the gratitude in his tone. “Of course,” you said, squeezing his hand in return. “That’s what wives do, right?”

Xavier let out a soft laugh. “I suppose so,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

In that moment, with his hand in yours and the gentle teasing in the air, it was easy to forget the world outside the café. Just the two of you, playing pretend—but maybe, just maybe, something more.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[sugugasm]

☆ CLICK TO PLAY ! ➜ 450 DEGREES

YOUR LEVEL IS STARTING SOON . . .

level quest : pov ur neighbor is a firefighter, and you love a man in uniform . . just as much as he loves your chocolate chip cookies.

☆ — a message from the developer : hiii i missed uguys sm, i’m so glad to be back for realsies this time :p don’t mind any mistakes or errors & before you read — nsfw content up ahead so pretty please read these warnings !!! strangers to lovers !!! age gap alert ➜ toji is 35 and reader is 25, mentions of sexual themes such as oral, vaginal penetration, pet names such as : sweetheart, angel, baby ofc, princess, honey, etc. usage of sexual terms and usage of terms describing female anatomy, uses she/her pronouns. firefighter! toji x baker! blk fem! reader 333 — word count : 8.0K or 9.0K, i lost track LOL

“fuck . .”

toji cut the engine of his ford pickup and sat for a moment, eyes closed, letting the silence wash over him. every muscle ached with exhaustion, the double shift of 48 hours catching up to him. he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept in an actual bed instead of snatching a few hours on the lumpy firehouse couch in between calls.

sighing, he grabs his duffel from the passenger seat and levers himself out of the truck. as he turns toward the house, a flash of color across the street quickly catches his attention. his new neighbor — you, out puttering in your postage stamp front yard, wearing a tank top the same vivid coral as the geraniums you were watering and cut-off jean shorts that barely qualified as clothing to any old, bitter bastard.

he’d seen you before. many times. whether it was while leaving for an early session at the gym as you walked your puppy, or his moving day . . where he could barely order around gojo and geto, struggling to tell them where they should place certain boxes due to hearing your alluring giggle coming from the house next door, your curls flowing in the breeze as you gossiped over iced lemonade with mrs. johnson on her porch.

his thoughts are interrupted when you glance toward him, face lighting up with a friendly smile as you spotted him. “hi there! nice to finally see you in the flesh instead of just passin’ headlights at odd hours of the night.”

“sorry about that.” toji hoped his answering smile passed for normal and not serial-killer exhausted. “i’m toji, toji fushiguro. i jus’ moved in last month.”

“well m’ yn. welcome to the neighborhood!” you propped a hand on one cocked hip, thoughtlessly drawing his eye to the thickness of your legs that almost looked golden in the sun lighting.

jesus.

realizing he was staring, he jerks his gaze back to your face, feeling his neck heat up at the idea of you catching on. “thanks. s’ a nice area. quiet.”

“i like to think we're a pretty welcomin’ bunch. in fact . . .” you bite your lip, looking almost shy for a second. “i was plannin’ to do some baking later, as a housewarming gift for all the newbies. any requests? cookies, muffins, scones? i make a mean cinnamon roll too.”

an unexpected warmth kindled in toji’s chest at the kindness of the offer. even as his stomach rumbled in anticipation, he couldn't remember the last time someone had gone out of their way to do something nice for him. sadly, baked goods didn't really tend to hold up well on 24-hour shifts.

“that’s really sweet of you, thanks. i love a good chocolate chip cookie, but i’ll happily be your guinea pig for anything.”

“sounds like a plan.” you graced him with another one of those classic, southern hospitality miles. “i’ll surprise you. they’ll be over before you know it!”

“looking forward to it. i better let you get back to . .” he waves a hand vaguely at the riot of flowers on your lawn, colors and smells galore.

“oh, right. see you soon then. welcome home!” with a small wave, you bend to retrieve the watering can, giving him an unobstructed view of her perky ass in those obscenely small shorts.

strangling a groan, toji spun on his heel and double-timed it into the house before you caught him ogling you like a creep. so much for a quiet neighborhood, he thought ruefully as the door shut behind him. you were gonna’ be one hell of a distraction, though some traitorous part of him looked forward to the temptation. it’d been way too long since he'd been around a pretty girl. maybe that's what all this edginess was - his libido waking up and taking notice after a long dry spell.

well, he'd just have to keep any wayward urges in check. no matter how mouthwatering you looked in tiny cutoffs, you were practically a decade younger and a neighbor, at that. off limits. he’d accept your baked goods, enjoy a little innocent flirting, but anything more was out of the question.

resolved, he headed for the shower, already counting the minutes until he could taste whatever delights you were whipping up for him.

the next morning, toji was on his second cup of coffee, basking in the rare luxury of an empty day ahead with no responsibilities, when the doorbell chimed. he opened it to find you, juggling a huge wicker basket with an equally enormous smile. the sweet scent of sugar, vanilla and chocolate wafted out to tease his nostrils so blissfully, just like how your sheer presence teased . . . other parts of him.

“g’mornin’,” you chirped. “i come bearing gifts from the sugar fairy.”

“so i smell . .” his mouth waters as he relieves you of the basket and ushers you inside, noting how your flowered sundress set off your peaches-and-cream personality. no shorts today, but the dress was nearly as enticing as it grasped on to your curves. he wondered if your skin would taste as good as you smelled, then mentally slapped himself.

down boy.

“i hope you don't mind me just droppin’ by like this. i wanted to catch you before you got busy.” your smile faltered slightly as you glanced around the spartan space with its generic bachelor furniture and decided lack of personal touches. “if s’ not a good time . .”

toji set the basket on the coffee table and turned to her, hands raised in mock surrender. “you came to my house bearin’ gifts of dessert. trust me, it's never gonna’ be a bad time. i may actually make some sort of sugar delivery beacon to summon you in the future.”

your laugh sounded a little relieved. “aww cute, sounds like my kind of bat signal. i’ll have to get you a spotlight shaped like a cupcake.”

“make it a cookie and you've got yourself a deal.” he grinned at you. “can i interest you in some coffee to go with whatever magic you've got in there? smells incredible.”

“coffee would be great, thank you.”

he led the way into the kitchen, noting how you took in details like the depressing lack of clutter and decoration. the only personal items were a handful of framed photos stuck to the fridge - him and his siblings as kids, his parents' wedding portrait, shots of fishing trips with his buddies — one with snow-white hair and the other with black. it struck him how sterile the space was, more like a way station than a home.

you didn't comment on it, instead you just leaned a hip on the counter and watched him pour a darkened substance into a ‘worlds worst morning person’ mug. there’s a comforting silence as he catches a whiff of your light perfume over the powerful espresso aroma - something floral and citrusy. it suited you.

“i wasn't sure what kind of treats you'd like, so i made a sampler of my greatest hits,” you say brightly. at his gesture, you unpack the basket, setting containers and various utensils on the table. “okay so . . we’ve got triple chocolate chip cookies, blueberry muffins, apple cinnamon scones, and my famous brown butter cinnamon rolls.”

“good lord,” toji shook his head in awe. “you made all this yesterday? after we spoke? do you even sleep?”

you laugh and accept the steaming mug he offered. “who needs sleep when there's sugar? besides, baking relaxes me. i love seeing people enjoy my creations.”

as if on cue, his stomach rumbles loudly, and you bit your lip against a smile. “sounds like someone's ready for a taste test. don’t be shy . . dig in.”

toji didn't need to be told twice. he selected a cinnamon roll, still warm from the oven, and bit in with a moan that would've been beyond embarrassing if his mouth wasn't full of heaven. “shit . . think i jus’ found my religion.”

you giggled that giggle that’d been stuck in his head since the day he heard it. “the cinnamon rolls tend to inspire a cult-like devotion. you haven't even tried em’ with the cream cheese frosting yet.”

he halted with the pastry halfway to his mouth for another rapturous bite. “there’s frosting too?”

in answer, you pulled a container from the basket with a flourish. “i figured you could handle adding your own so it didn't get soggy.”

“you’re an angel.” he slathered a generous amount of fluffy white frosting on the roll, not even caring that he probably looked like an overexcited kid.

watching him take another blissful bite, you cradled your coffee mug in both hands. “soo . . what d’you do that keeps you gettin’ home at such odd hours? i promise m’ not stalking you, but it's a quiet street. hard not to notice the comings and goings.”

toji washed down the sticky-sweet mouthful with a swig of coffee. “i’m a firefighter. we work 24-hour shifts, so my schedule can be pretty unpredictable."

interest sparked in your eyes. “really? that’s so cool! i bet you have some amazing stories.”

“eh. a few,” he allowed. truthfully he tried not to dwell on some of the things he'd seen, the memories that still occasionally jolted him awake in a cold sweat during the night. “it’s rewarding work, but not exactly a picnic for the social life.”

you give him a sympathetic look over the rim of her mug. “i can imagine. is that why you moved? needed a fresh start?”

“somethin’ like that. the job costed me my marriage a couple years back. got tired of walkin’ around the old place alone, so i thought a change of scenery might do me good.”

change of scenery in deed. toji even went as far as to relocate to a different state after his divorce with his wife. even the landscaping around the city had become too much of a heartache. what was once a happy, sensual marriage quickly turned sour the moment toji began working more. the position as chief hadn’t sounded that horrible in his head, but if he knew he’d come home one night - the clock reading exactly 3:17 am, to an unrecognizable man fast asleep in his bed, naked next to his wife, that that position could’ve waited. could’ve been passed on.

there’s a silent second between you two, your face still, “i-im so sorry,” you say softly, and toji feels relief when he sees that your eyes were warm with understanding, free of the pity he'd come to dread whenever his divorce came up in any other conversation he’d have with someone who didn’t know him.

he shrugged. “it is what it is. we married too young, grew apart. my hours didn't help. no hard feelings though.” he mustered up a wry smile. “what about you? you’re a little young to be living the retired grandma life, baking up a storm in the 'burbs.”

you grin, allowing him to lighten the mood. “hey, hey, hey, this grandma can party with the best of em’! fyi, i stayed up past 10 last saturday watching bad girls club.”

toji clutches his chest in feigned shock. “damn, so scandalous! what was the special occasion?”

“all have you know . . i was trying to perfect a new macaron recipe. passionfruit with dark chocolate ganache. they’re a fickle mistress though - one minute too long in the oven and they're as dry as bones.”

“sounds like bakin’ is more than jus’ a hobby for you,” he observed.

you toy with your mug. “it’s my whole life, really. i’m in my second year of culinary school, specializing in pastry arts. when i graduate, i’m hoping to open my own bakery. somewhere people feel welcome and cared for. a safe space, i suppose.” he stares, and you duck your head with an embarrassed laugh. “sorry for the tangent . . it probably sounds so silly.”

“not at all.” toji found himself impressed by the passion and dedication evident in your voice. you had a dream and you were going after it. he remembered that feeling. before the reality of adulthood had started chipping away at his own youthful idealism.

he wanted to say something to encourage you, to protect that light shining in your eyes for as long as possible. “for what it's worth, i think you're gonna’ be amazing,” he told you seriously, holding your gaze. “if this morning’s haul is any indication, you'll have lines around the block.”

you shield your smiling face sweetly. “that’s kind of you to say. i appreciate the vote of confidence. speaking of . .” you hesitate, then forge ahead. “m’ actually working on developing an original signature recipe for my final. multiple components, flavors, textures. the works.”

“sounds ambitious,” he said, eyebrows raised. “what’d you have in mind?”

your eyes sparkle with enthusiasm at the question, the thought of genuine curiosity making your heart flutter. “deconstructed black forest cake. dark chocolate cake, kirsch-soaked cherries, vanilla bean whipped cream. i wanna’ play with it, update it. maybe turn it into a trifle or a parfait of some sort.”

toji was no culinary expert. hell - he didn’t even know what half of those things were, but even he could tell you were on to something special. “that’s incredible, yn. lemme’ guess - you need a guinea pig?”

you bite your lip nervously, smile turning impish. “i didn't wanna’ impose, but since you offered the other day . . how would you like to be my official taste-tester? i can't really pay you, but you'll get free rein to sample every variation.”

“where do i sign up?” he was only half joking. even if your creations turned out to be awful, which he highly doubted, any excuse to spend more time with you sounded like a win.

you laugh. “i think i can waive the usual application process on account of the fact that you're doing me a huge favor. plus, it means you won't be able to avoid me constantly showing up at your door to force-feed you desserts.”

“oh no. however will i cope.” he feigned a put-upon sigh.

you shot him a look of amused reproof as she packed up the empty containers. “try to contain your disappointment. i promise to space out surprise sugar bombings. wouldn’t wanna’ make you sick of me or my baking."

“i don’t really think i ever could . . to be honest,” he declared firmly. on impulse, he reaches out to still your fluttering hands with his own. your skin was so soft and warm, sending a tingle zipping up his arm. your breath pauses at the contact and your eyes flew to his, startled.

“i mean it,” he said, voice gone low and intent as he tries to infuse sincerity into every word. “i can't imagine ever getting tired of you. or your company.”

for a suspended moment you just stare at each other in silence. then you swallow, sounding a little breathless as you replied, “likewise. m’ really glad you moved in, toji.”

“me too,” he said roughly. and though he knew he shouldn't, that he was venturing into dangerous territory, he allowed himself to stroke the delicate bones of your wrist with his thumb. just once, to feel your shiver lightly in response. then he released you and stepped back, moving to hold the door open for you in unspoken signal.

“i’ll get out of your hair now,” you murmured as you gathered the empty basket with hands that trembled just slightly. “but i’ll see you soon? for taste testing purposes, of course.”

“absolutely,” he confirmed. “anytime. y’know where to find me.”

with a final nod and smile, you slipped out the door. he watched you go, admiring the sway of your hips, the bounce of your hair, already counting the minutes until he'd see you again.

you were gonna’ end him, so so sweetly too., he realized with a trace of fatalism.

but what a way to go, huh? death by cinnamon rolls.

the day of the first official tasting arrived, and toji found himself unaccountably nervous as he approached your door. he felt a like an awkward kid picking up his prom date, palms sweaty and heart knocking around his ribs. which was ridiculous. this wasn't a date. just two neighbors getting together to sample some sweets. totally casual.

never mind that he'd changed his shirt three times, vacillating between wanting to look nice for you and not wanting to seem like he was trying too hard. he’d finally settled on a plain black tee and his least disreputable pair of jeans, adding a hint of cologne as an afterthought.

now, standing on your stoop, he wished he'd brought something. flowers maybe — lillie’s like the ones in your garden, or perhaps wine. did people bring wine to taste testing sessions? probably not. you’d most likely think he was a presumptuous idiot.

shaking his head at his own weird bout of nerves, he raised his hand to knock. before his knuckles could connect, the door swung open to reveal you, looking adorably pretty and flustered. you were wearing a frilly pink apron over a gauzy white sundress scattered with tiny red cherries. your hair was bundled on top of your head in a haphazard knot, loose curls escaping to dance around your swelled cheeks. a dusting of cocoa powder streaked one of them.

“toji - oh, you’re right on time! m’ runnin’ a bit behind, so sorry. come on in.” you stepped back to let him enter and he caught a blend of tantalizing scents - rich chocolate, sweet cherries, warm vanilla, and underneath, the subtle floral musk that was purely you. it made his head swim and his stomach clench with a hunger that had absolutely nothing to do with the promise of dessert.

he followed you into the kitchen, blinking a bit as he took in the transformation. when he'd helped you carry in groceries a few days ago, the room had been tidy and quaint, with cheerful yellow walls and kitschy retro appliances. now every surface was strewn with baking detritus - bowls, whisks, spatulas, piping bags. the air was hazy with a fine mist of flour and powdered sugar, swirling in the slanting sunlight.

incongruously delicate paper doilies serving as placemats were scattered with miniature cakes, puddles of sauce, and billows of snowy cream. it looked like a fancy bakery had exploded all over the place.

“as you can see, i’ve been experimenting with a few different iterations of the concept,” you said with a small smile, waving a hand at the sugary chaos. “couldn’t settle on just one. i thought i’d get your input n’ then we could narrow it down together.”

“i’m at your service,” he told you gallantly, skating his gaze over the counter. “i’ll warn you though, my palate isn't exactly refined. you might end up with the bland 'it all tastes good' as feedback.”

you giggled. “i’ll take it. okay, let's start basic.” you gestured for him to take a seat at the flour-dusted table and set a plate in front of him. on it perched a generous slice of cake, glossy with ganache, accompanied by a scarlet swoosh of what he assumed was the cherry compote. a dollop of whipped cream, flecked with black speckles, completing the overall masterpiece look.

toji quickly picked up the fork and took a bite, closing his eyes to focus on the flavors. the cake was intensely chocolate, the ganache dark and silky. tart-sweet cherries burst on his tongue, balanced by the subtle fragrance of the vanilla-specked cream.

“damn,” he mumbled around the mouthful. “fuckin’ fantastic, yn.”

you beam, looking relieved. “yeah? the cake recipe took a while to get right. i wanted something more . . . complex than a standard chocolate cake, so i used black cocoa powder to really amp up the flavor. n’ i even added a little coffee to enhance the chocolate.”

“s’ a winner,” he assured you. “i dunno’ how you could improve on it, honestly.”

“oh i have a few ideas,” your smile turned mysterious. “you haven't seen anything yet.”

over the next hour, you walked him through several variations. chocolate cake layered with cherry compote and kirsch-soaked chocolate cake crumbs, topped with cocoa whipped cream. dark chocolate and cherry bread pudding drizzled with cherry coulis. chocolate panna cotta with drunken cherries and cherry gelée . . . and toji sampled them all, humming with pleasure while you watched him anxiously. your initial nerves seemed to melt away as you lost yourself in describing the ins and outs of each dish - the technical challenges, the way certain flavors complemented or contrasted, ideas for garnishes and plating.

he found himself captivated by your intensity, the way your whole being lit up when you talked about your craft. it was more than just a job or a hobby for you . . . it was a calling. he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that kind of soul-deep passion for anything. couldn’t take his eyes off the way your slender hands sketched shapes in the air, punctuating your words. delicate, clever hands that created so much beauty.

“earth to toji,” teased, waving one of those mesmerizing hands in front of his face. “did i lose you? too much of a sugar crash?”

toji blinked and refocused on your amused expression, realizing he'd been caught woolgathering like an idiot. “sorry, just slipped into a brief dessert coma. what were you saying?”

“i was asking what you think of this last one. it’s the more . . . wildcard of the bunch.” you pushed a small glass toward him. it looked like a miniature trifle, with layers of cake and cream, a vivid cherry layer in the middle, and a fan of shaved chocolate on top.

he dug in and had to suppress an absolutely obscene moan. the combination was incredible - velvety smooth, creamy, rich, and fruity, with a kick from what had to be a generous glug of kirsch. sweet but not cloying, a sophisticated twist on a classic.

“i think we have a winner,” he managed, not even caring that his voice came out husky. “if you're going for adding a 'wow' factor, this is it.”

you stand on your tippy-toes, looking hopeful. “you think? i couldn't decide if it was too out there. verrines aren't exactly traditional black forrest cake material.”

“doesn’t matter. it’s a showstopper. interesting to look at, fun to eat, n’ the flavor is phenomenal.” he scraped the glass clean with his spoon, not wanting to waste a drop.

your smile could've lit up the city block. “thank you, toji. you don't know how much it means to me, you bein’ here. lettin’ me talk your ear off and stuff you with treats. it really . . helps a lot."

“believe me, it's my pleasure,” he said, returning her smile with one of his own. “i haven't had this much fun in . . i can't even remember how long. i like seein’ you in your element.”

you both just grin goofily at each other for a moment, the air feeling thicker. then you hopped up and began clearing the table, stacking dishes and bustling around the small space.

“y’know i feel bad, you feedin’ me all these goodies without me contributing anything,” toji said, rising to help. “at least lemme’ take you out for a meal that isn't 90% butter and sugar. you must be sick of cookin’, day in and day out.”

you slanted him a glance, tucking a stray curl behind one ear. “m’ not, actually. it never feels like a chore. but i . . wouldn't say no to dinner out. if you're sure you don't mind.”

mind? he’d been trying to come up with an excuse to spend more time with you, and here you were gift wrapping one for him. “i’d love to,” he said firmly. “s’ the least i can do. and i’d like to hear more about this final project of yours. when do you present it?”

“next month,” a shadow crossed your expressive face, there and gone in a blink. “m’ tryin’ not to think too much about it yet. one step at a time, y’know?”

he recognized that look. the flickering uncertainty, the hint of stage fright. he’d worn it himself, back before his first real fire. wanting so badly to prove himself, to show what he was made of, terrified of choking.

impulsively, he reached for your hand, halting her flitting movements. your fingers curled reflexively around his, warm and strong. “look at me . . . you got this. you’re a star, you're gonna’ impress the hell outta’ your professors.”

you swallowed hard, eyes searching his. looking for the belief you couldn't quite muster on your own. “i hope so. i want it so much, toji. this . . all of it. it’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

“then don't let fear hold you back,” he told you gently. “don’t doubt yourself. you have a gift, mama. i know m’ a dumb scrub who can barely tell a macaron from a macaroon, but even i can see that you were born for this shit.”

your hand squeezed his, almost painfully tight. from both the nickname rolling off his tongue so elegantly and the encouragement that you sometimes failed to receive from your closest peers. “thank you, seriously,” you whispered. “for believin’ in me, i guess. it means a lot to me . . .”

he squeezes back, thumb sweeping over your knuckles. he had a sudden, wild urge to haul your into his arms. to soothe the worry from your brow with his lips, to show you with his hands and body and breath how special you were. how much he'd come to care for you in such a short time.

but he couldn't. however strong the pull, however much he wanted to cross that line, he knew it would be a mistake. you weren’t for him, this shining woman with stardust in her eyes. and he was in no position to offer you anything real. he needed to remember that.

so he contented himself with a soft “anytime,” and released your hand, stepping back to a safer distance. “now, about that dinner. friday work for you?”

you blinked, then hitched your smile back into place. it wobbled a bit at the edges, but he pretended not to notice. “friday’s great. s’ a . . . plan.”

even through the awkwardness, the unspoken words clogging the air between you, a little thrill went through him. it’s a date, you’d almost said. and god help him, he wished it was — that’s why you settled on making plans to try the new, cozy italian restaurant that had opened downtown, the one you’d mentioned wanting to visit after a neighborhood watch meeting one night. it was intimate . . . romantic. toji walked home with a lightness in his step, an unfamiliar flutter in his gut. he was in trouble, he knew he was. you were trouble in ways he hadn't encountered before. you made him feel too much.

more than he ever had.

but he was in too deep to back out now. all he could do was try to keep a clear head, keep things casual and platonic. be your friend and supporter, nothing more. his life, his job . . there was no room for complications.

even if he was beginning to suspect it was already far too late.

the days leading up to friday passed in a blur of anticipation and nerves, though toji did his best to ignore both. ‘it isn’t a date. she’s not into you. this isnt a fuckin’ date . . .’ he reminded himself sternly, no matter how much his idiot heart wanted to pretend otherwise. just dinner between neighbors. a thank you for your tireless taste testing efforts. nothing to get all hot n’ bothered about.

so then why the fuck had he changed outfits half a dozen times before settling on the nicest button-down he owned and a new pair of dark wash jeans? why had he agonized over whether to bring flowers or wine or both . . again? this was so embarrassing. he was so embarrassing. he’d think being married once would've meant he had at least a little bit of game . . but nope - he had nothing.

taking a deep breath, he knocked on your door at precisely 7pm. when it swung open to reveal you, his lungs almost stopped in their tracks. you looked no less than stunning in a ruffled dress, in the pretty shade of baby-pink, your hair tumbling over your bare shoulders - half up, half down and bumped at the ends. a slim gold chain nestled in the hollow of your throat, shamefully drawing his eyes down to the swells of your titties.

“fuck . .” he said inanely, tongue suddenly clumsy in his mouth. “m’ so sorry. forgive me, i mean, you look . . absolutely amazing.”

a shy smile curved your lips, brightening your whole face up. “thanks . . so do you, toji.” your eyes skimmed over him appreciatively and he fought the urge to preen.

“o-oh, these are for you.” he thrusts the slightly wilted grocery store bouquet at you, wincing inwardly at his own awkwardness.

but you just smile, cradling the limp blooms like they were something so precious. “how sweet of you! i love daisies. lemme’ jus’ put these in some water and we can go.” you disappeared into the kitchen, leaving him to marvel at how such a simple gesture could delight you so thoroughly. damn, you were so lovely. inside and out.

the drive to the restaurant was filled with easy conversation interspersed with comfortable silences. toji let you be in control of the radio, secretly charmed by your off-key humming to the cheesy pop songs in rotation on your playlist. he could imagine countless nights like this, aimless drives with no destination in mind, just content to be in your company with no one to bother.

and dinner was a laughter-filled affair, trading bites of pasta and garlicky bread, arguing playfully over the merits of various desserts. you entertained him with customer service horror stories from your barista days, confessing your penchant for ‘accidentally’ giving rude patrons decaf.

in turn, toji found himself sharing more than he usually did - funny anecdotes about his buddies at the firehouse, his worries about his little sister starting college in the fall, even a bit about his dad. the words came without effort, drawn out by your natural warmth and empathy.

he couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed anyone's company so effortlessly.

when the check came, he wouldn't let you even reach for it. you rolled your eyes but allowed him to pay, primly informing him you were getting the next one. his stomach flipped at the unthinking promise of a next time.

you then lingered over coffee and dessert - the restaurant's version didn't even hold a candle to your black forest verrines, but you were too polite to say so - neither wanting the evening to end. toji watched you lick chocolate from your spoon, entranced by the tiny pink flash of your tongue. wishing he could lean in and taste the sweetness of your mouth. a pleasant shiver chased over his skin, heat simmering low in his belly. he’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted you - this maddening mix of tender and carnal, the urge to both protect and possess.

“mmm,” you purred appreciatively, pulling the spoon from your mouth with an obscene pop. “whoever said that chocolate isn’t better than sex clearly hadn't tasted chocolate like this.”

toji swallowed hard, adam's apple bobbing convulsively in his throat. “playin’ with fire are we?” he manages to rasp, fingers clenching around his mug.

you placed the spoon delicately on your empty plate, fingers lingering just long enough to draw his attention to their graceful dance. “who says i’m playin’, handsome?” you quip.

he was so fucked. so. totally. fucked.

afterwards, he walked you to your door, hands shoved deeply n’ awkwardly into his pockets to keep from doing something stupid like reaching for your hand. you then hovered on the stoop, the sultry summer night pressing in close.

“i had fun tonight,” you softly. in the light spilling from your living room window, your eyes were luminous. hopeful. “we should really do it again sometime.”

“we should,” he agreed, mouth dry. he couldn't look away from your face, tracing the delicate arch of your brows, the dark feathering of your lashes. you swayed closer, tipping your face up to his, and his heartbeat kicked into overdrive. god, you were killing him.

it took every ounce of willpower to step back, to force a chuckle past the ache in his chest. “well i should let you get your beauty sleep. early start tomorrow, right?” your smile faltered, a brief tightening around your eyes hinting at disappointment. he almost caved right then, almost said to hell with his reservations and dragged you into his arms the way he'd been dying to do all night.

but he couldn't. not when he had nothing more to offer you than heartache.

“right,” you murmured. “beauty sleep. so important for . . . baking.” you fumbled for your keys, not quite meeting his gaze. “i’ll see you round’ then.” he could only watch you retreat into the house, torn between relief at the bullet dodged and an overwhelming sense of loss.

wearily, he turned to go back to his own quiet home. he’d done the right thing. the smart thing. so why did it feel so damnably hollow?

avoidance was the order of the day after that near-miss. though it pained him, toji forced himself to keep some distance, to not make up flimsy excuses to show up on your doorstep at all hours of the night. no more dessert development sessions, no matter how much he craved the sight of you gushing and twirling over your latest creations. no more cute, little dinners with furtive hand holding under the table.

he threw himself into work with even more zeal than usual, pulling extra shifts and helping out with the neverending station chores. if the guys ribbed him about his sudden devotion to alphabetizing the equipment room or polishing the engine to a blinding shine, he shrugged it off. it was loads better than going home to an empty house haunted by what-ifs.

he ached to see you though. sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of you catering to your garden or heading off to the market, and his fingers would itch with the urge to go to you, to close the seemingly unbridgeable gap between you both with long strides and strong arms. more than once he'd picked up his phone to call you, thumb hesitating over your smiling face in his contacts until he cursed and tossed the phone aside.

it was for the best, he told himself firmly. you had your whole life ahead of you - school and internships, building your dream from the ground up. he’d only get in the way, bog you down with his everlasting issues and cynicism. he wouldn't, couldn't be the dead weight holding you back.

even if letting you go felt like tearing himself in half.

he should've known you wouldn't let him slink away so easily. that for all your sweetness, you were just as stubborn as he was. you’d never been one to give up on the things - or people - you wanted.

which bring us to now . . you ambushing him on his way home from a grueling 48-hour shift, looking unfairly pretty and indignant as you marched across the street to plant yourself in front of his truck. he barely bit back a groan, exhaustion and longing a potent cocktail in his bloodstream.

“hey, stranger,” you said archly, fine brows drawn together in a scowl. “long time no annoy.”

he cut the engine and climbed out, suddenly self-conscious about his unwashed, smoke-saturated state. “hi, yn. how’s it going?”

“ah, y’know. jus’ workin’ myself to the bone, trying to perfect this dessert that's only the culmination of my entire academic career thus far. while also attempting to figure out how i mysteriously pissed off my friend to the point of complete radio silence.” your arms crossed over your chest, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes, “so yeah . . the usual.”

guilt lodged under his breastbone, sharp and corroding. he’d never meant to upset you, to make you think any of this was at all your fault. “shit, yn. i’m sorry . . i didn’t mean to ignore you, i’ve just been so -”

“busy . .” you finished for him, mouth flattening. “mhm, i’ve noticed. so busy you ignored all my calls n’ texts - missed our dinner the other night too. you’ve been practically living at the station lately.”

he grimaced, one hand scrubbing over his stubbled jaw. he’d never been any good with words, with making excuses. especially when faced with eyes that seemed to see right through his every defense, “you’re right. i’ve been avoiding you. but not because of anything you did. i jus’ . . needed some space to clear my head.”

your arms tightened, gaze dropping to the oil-stained pavement. “i thought we were having fun,” you said quietly. “gettin’ to know each other. but if i misread things, if i made you uncomfortable in any way i really am so sorr . . .”

“no.” he interrupted fiercely, taking an involuntary step closer. close enough to smell the light, citrusy scent of you, to see the faint mascara smudges of sleeplessness under your eyes. “you didn't misread anything, yn. these past weeks, spendin’ time with you . . . s’ been amazing. the most fun i’ve had in years, if i’m being honest.”

confusion clouded your expression. “then why?”

“because m’ a goddamn mess,” he bit out, the truth clawing its way up his throat. “because you’re brilliant, and you’re goin’ places . . n’ i wouldn’t be able to give you my time in the way that i know you more than deserve. i wanna smell muffins in the mornin’ . . not the smell of musty men and water hoses.”

he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before sitting his stuff on the hood of his car, “i jus’,” he started, “i’ve done the dating thing, alright? the marriage thing too, y’know that. i jus’ . . i cant afford to lose another person in my life that i care about — not when i’ve come this far to prevent it n’ when they’re as sweet and pretty, and as kind as you.” you stand in silence, letting him vent, “i’m not perfect. m’ terrible at cooking, i sing in the shower, n’ on top of all that i fuckin’ snore like a grizzly bear. ya’ still want me now?”

you took a step forward, hand coming up to fist in the front of his t-shirt. he inhaled sharply at the sudden press of your soft curves against his hard planes, the way your gaze dropped to his mouth.

“yeah, you grumpy old fuck . . i still want you,” you whispered fiercely. “mess, snores and all.”

he softened as you pressed a kiss onto his cheek, gentle and warm with truce, “i have my own damn baggage. y’think thats stoppin’ me from goin’ after what i want? no. so jus’ stop bein’ such an asshole n’ kiss me alread - mmph!” — that was it. that was the straw that’d broken the camel’s back. with a muttered curse, his control had finally snapped. he hauled you flush against him, one arm banding around your waist as the other hand sank into your hair, cradling the back of your head. you made a soft, needy sound and surged up on tiptoe, sealing your mouth to his.

the first touch of your lips was electric, a livewire straight to his core. they were exactly as soft and sweet as he'd imagined, moving over his with an urgency that matched his own. he angled his head to slant his mouth more firmly over your, licking at the seam of your lips as you licked on the scar on his.

he swept his tongue into your mouth, stroking over yours, swallowing the low moan that vibrated in her throat. you tasted like peppermint and the vaguest hint of sugar, an addictive flavor he already knew he'd never get enough of. your arms twined around his neck, blunt nails scraping deliciously at his nape as you pressed impossibly closer.

dimly, he registered the whoops and catcalls of a passing group of neighbors, but he couldn't bring himself to care. let em’ gawk. the whole damn neighborhood could come out to watch and he still wouldn't be able to tear himself away from your sweetness.

he was a man possessed.

the kiss deepened, turning hot and hungry. toji backed you up against his front door, hands roaming greedily over your curves as he pressed the hard length of his body into your soft warmth. you made yet another sound into his mouth, lifting one leg to wrap around his hip, opening yourself up to him.

he tore his lips from yours only to trail open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, tasting the salt on your skin from the sweat of the hot summer sun. “fuck . . i want you,” he growled against your pulse point. “wanna’ touch you, taste you, feel you. if you’ll let me . . of course.”

“wow, such a gentlemen,” you gasped, hands scrabbling at his shoulders. “please fuckin’ do, toji.” patience fraying, he fumbled for his keys and somehow managed to get the door open without releasing you. you stumbled over the threshold, shedding clothes haphazardly between searing kisses - your flimsy blouse fluttering to the floor, followed by smoke stained his t-shirt.

toji walked you backwards down the hall to his bedroom, kicking the door shut before tossing you onto the bed. he followed you down, covering your entire frame with his own, reveling in the feel of all your bare skin finally against him. you were a vision in the spill of afternoon light, curls fanned across his pillow, pink lace bra and panties a tantalizing contrast to your brown skin.

he took a moment just to admire you, committing every detail to memory. the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted on shallow breaths. heavy-lidded eyes hazy with want and something deeper, more tender.

“been dreamin’ about you, princess. shit - you’re so gorgeous.” he rasped, nipping at your earlobe with each word, “so pretty, so beautiful, so smart.”

you shivered, fingernails raking over his shoulders, “nngh - c’mon stoppit, toji . .” growling low in his throat, he captured your lips in a nasty kiss, all teeth and tongue. large hands cupping your full titties, calloused thumbs rubbing your nipples into stiff peaks. and you arched into his touch with a moan, shameless in your pleasure.

“someone’s eager, hm?”

breaking the kiss, he began to work his way down your body, mapping every dip and curve with lips and teeth and tongue. he paid thorough attention to your titties, laving at the dark-brown nipples until you were panting and squirming beneath him.

“b-baby, please . .” you whimpered, fingers sinking into his hair to urge him lower.

he only chuckled darkly against your flesh. “patience, sweetheart. m’ not goin’ anywhere. let me love you.”

true to his word, he set about exploring you - kissing a meandering path down your ribs and belly, dipping his tongue into your navel just to hear you gasp. strong hands gripped your thighs, pushing them further and further apart so he could settle more comfortably between them.

hooking his fingers in your lacy panties, he dragged the scrap of fabric down your legs. “fuck yeah, look at you. so wet for me already. look at this pussy . .”

you mewled as he licked a broad stripe up your slit, circling your puffy clit with the tip of his tongue. he sealed his lips around the sensitive nub and sucked, fingers delving into your soaked entrance, curling to find that special spot inside you.

“o-ooh my god — yes!” your back bowed off the bed, a vibration spreading down your chest as he worked you higher. he paid close attention to your most tender skin, alternating between broad, flat licks and quick, targeted flicks. crooking his fingers just so, he rubbed and rubbed until he found — “ah f-fuck!” your g-spot, feeling your thighs start to tremble around his head.

“thas’ it, bunny - cum on my tongue. i wanna’ see it all, mama. c’mon, i know you can do it,” the filthy words combined with the relentless stimulation quite literally pushed you over the edge . . and you came with a sharp cry, gushing your juices all over his lips and chin. he groaned at the taste of you, lapping up every last drop, addicted already.

while you were still quivering and coming down from your high, toji fumbled blindly for the nightstand drawer. he managed to retrieve a condom without taking his eyes off of you. ripping open the packet with his teeth, he sat back on his knees to quickly sheath himself.

you took the opportunity to admire his body, running appreciative hands over his muscular chest and abdomen. he was all tanned skin and chiseled muscle, a sparse trail of dark hair pointing the way to his impressive erection. it jutted from a thatch of coarse curls, thick and flushed nearly purple, the bulbous head glistening with excitement.

wrapping your fingers around his rigid length, you stroked him base to tip, twisting your wrist on the upstroke so that the condom slips right back off. toji grunted, hips bucking into your touch as you rubbed your thumb over the leaking slit. you pause, your mouth watering as you begin to lower your head down. you press the side of your face against his thigh, peering up at him with batting lashes and a poked lip. your ass is arched - high in the air and wiggling as if you just wanted him to smack it.

that’s when you began slapping his heavy dick against your cheek, repeatedly, “so big, baby,” you whisper, now positioning your face to where his cock could sit right on top of it - “can i put it in m’mouth? please . .?”

“yn you don’t have to -”

“i want to.”

toji looked down at you once more, the look of want in your eyes . . . how could he resist?

he gently grabs the side of your neck, firm but not firm enough to cause pain, his other hand curling around the base of his cock as he whispered, “open wide. tongue out,” biting his lip as he braces himself for the sensation of your mouth wrapped around him.

that’s when your wet tongue dances out tentatively, tracing the ridge of his head before retreating back to safety inside your mouth. it was clear that you were just as lust filled as him. toji could feel himself pulsing with need as you took him in deeper and deeper, a low groan escaping him, “shit, doll - got it all to fit . . good girl.” your hands gripped his hips tightly, nails digging into his skin as you bobbed your head up and down. toji swore he could fall in love with the simple, yet beautifully disgusting sound of your throat — gawk, gulp, gawk! ugh, they were such disgusting noises - some gagging here, some moaning there, but he couldn’t have asked for anything better. you were slobbing, spitting, and choking on his dick and the only thing getting in your way from taking him whole was the fact that his size was still fairly new to you.

“sss’ ooh fuck - b-baby . . yn -” he hisses, both your eyes and his rolling to the back of your heads as you continue to gulp him down, spit trickling down to your tits as they jiggled to the rhythm of your mouth. each and every glide against your tongue was starting to overpower him, and before he knew it, if you didn’t stop he was bout’ to —

“cum . . m’gonna cum! m’fuckin’ cumming - asshhit . .” he groaned, eyes tightly closing as you continued to deepthroat him the best you could, “don’t stop, keep suck - y-yes . .” it was a hassle - a big one, but the taste of him warm cum painting your throat felt like a sweet reward.

almost sweeter than your baked goods.

whining and still aching to suck on him some more, toji pulls you off in fear of shaking more than he already was — and the sight of you with his cum dripping out of your mouth only did the complete opposite.

“uh, well then . . how’d i do?” you say shyly, as if you hadn’t just completely slutted out your mouth for your next door neighbor.

a surprised bark of laughter escaped him even as his cock jerked at you eagerly. “don’t exile me, but that mouth . . shit, might be better than your cookies. not gonna’ lie, sweetheart . .” toji growled, and you pout as he’s prowling back over you. you then watch him slowly, his fingers unexpectedly plunging back into your pussy as he scoops some of your wetness onto the pad of them before pulling them back out. he fists the base and tip of himself, smothering his cock in your juices as lubricant as he teases your entrance with a few pats n’ nudges. fuckin’ tease. he kept on until you were angrily swatting his chest to put the damn thing in already.

who could blame your lust? after all . . you’d been dreaming about it for weeks now.

yet again, he snags another rubber, strokes a little, and once he’s in, “oh s-shit that pussy's tight, baby . .” he’s in. you moaned in tandem, dick snuggling into your tight walls inch by excruciating inch. you were warm and wet and perfect around him, gripping him like a silken vise. it was magical, just like you - but the look on your face . . oh that look, almost seemed like you wanted to be broken. with your arms above your head, your titties swaying against your chest and your whines now hoarse n' pleading — he kinda wanted to break you too.

toji started with slow, deep strokes, mindful of your tightness and his considerable girth. he didn't want to hurt you, wanted to savor every clench and flutter around his aching cock. wanted this to last, to burn this moment into his brain forever.

“f-feel so fuckin' good wrapped around me,” he gritted out, hips rolling in a lazy figure eight that had you keening. “y’so wet, honey . . dick feel that good?”

“toji,” you whimpered brokenly, fingernails scoring down his flexing back. “more, please . . need it harder . .”

and how could he deny you anything when you begged so sweetly? bracing his weight on his forearms, he obliged, snapping his hips forward with more force. the headboard started to thump against the wall, the mattress creaking beneath your writhing bodies.

“like that, baby? hm?” he panted against your throat, sweat beading at his temples as he drove into you again and again, his cock damn near slipping out of you from the slippery speed. “this what you need? me splittin' this pretty pussy open?”

“yes d-daddy . . ” you wailed, back arching like a drawn bow. your cunt was fluttering around him, a telltale sign of your impending orgasm. “aah - don't stop, don’t stop, m'so close!”

“shh, i got you,” he promised, shifting the angle of his hips to grind against your clit with every thrust. “gonna’ make this pussy sing for me, gonna’ wring the cum outta’ you 'til you're shakin' on me. you want that?” his filthy words seemed to be your undoing because suddenly you were clenching down on him like a vice, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as you thrashed beneath him. your release gushed hot and slick around his pistoning length, drenching his groin and thighs with sweetness.

“f-fuck yeah,” toji choked out, his own rhythm faltering as your rippling walls threatened to milk him dry. “good girl, sweetheart, cream on this dick, lemme’ feel you.” he managed a handful more erratic thrusts before his own orgasm crashed into him like a freight train. he buried himself to the hilt and stilled, a hoarse shout muffled into your sweat damped shoulder as he spilled himself into the condom. his cock jerked and twitched with every pulse, vision nearly whiting out with the force of it.

for long moments, you both just shook and gasped, clinging to each other as aftershocks rolled through your bodies. toji's heart was thundering so hard he was sure you could feel it through his sweat-slick chest. he'd never come so hard in his life, never felt so utterly shattered and remade.

you made a soft, satisfied sound as he carefully withdrew from your heat, rolling to the side to dispose of the condom with a quick knot. then he was gathering you close again, palm smoothing up your spine as you burrowed into him with a sigh.

“shit,” you eventually mumbled into the heated skin of his throat. “that was . . .”

“ . . fuckin' heavenly,” he finished roughly, a laugh rumbling in his chest as he felt your answering huff of amusement. “m’ sorry i uh . . came so fast. i don’t usually -”

“did you just apologize to me because my pussy is good?” you teased, dragging your nose along the edge of his stubbled jaw. he could feel the curve of your smile, the unabashed joy, and it settled something deep within him. soothed the ragged pieces he'd thought long broken.

“damn straight,” he agreed, arms tightening around you possessively. “i can die a happy man now.”

“well, you're not allowed to die on me now, toji. you're stuck with me. escape if you can.”

“mm, is that right,” he nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the scent of you - all warm woman and satisfaction.

“mhmm. you're not getting rid of me easily. i still have so many desserts to force on you, so many early morning baking sessions to drag you into . .”

he laughed outright at that, at the sheer exuberance in your voice. “promises, promises.”

“oh i always keep my promises, mister. which reminds me . .” you pushed up on an elbow, eyes sparkling with mischief and something deeper. something that snatched the breath from his lungs. “i seem to remember you saying something about round two . .”

“did i? care to refresh my memory?” he growled, even as he was already rolling you beneath him again, mouth seeking yours. you then feel his palm colliding with your ass in a gentle spank. “what am i gonna’ do with you?”

“everything.” you breathed against his lips, a vow. “anything. i want you, toji. want everything with you.” and fuck, what could he say to that? what could he do but kiss you like a promise, a prayer, and proceed to show you just how much he wanted that too? wanted to give you everything, anything, all he had to offer?

he'd never been a man of many words. but this - loving you with hands and mouth and body, breaking you apart and putting you back together again and again until you were both sweat-soaked and shaking . . this he could do. this he would do for the rest of his life if you'd let him.

“you’ve got me.”

and from the joyous half-sob of his name as he sank back into your pussy, the way your body opened for him like a flower to the sun, he had a feeling you just might too.

there would be time for more words later - time for confessions and plans and mapping out a future he'd never even let himself dream of before. time to make good on promises whispered into heated skin, to build something real and lasting brick by brick. but for now, in the honeyed afternoon light with your legs wrapped around his waist and your heart in his hands . . let himself get lost. let himself drown in sensation and emotion, in this miraculous woman he didn't deserve but who'd chosen him anyway.

from lost to found, in the space of a heartbeat. and all because an angel in a garden had smiled at him across a sunny street and offered up a little piece of heaven. he'd never know what he'd done to deserve you, or this second chance. but he'd spend the rest of his days earning this gift, cherishing it.

cherishing you.

that was a promise. and like his beautiful girl . . toji fushiguro always kept his promises.

©️ SATORUBI - please do not copy, translate, or modify my work without my approval ! thank you for playing . . the challenge has only just begun.