#A shame he was only in it for a little bit

[classyrbf]

pussy inspection with nanami can we have some degradation please and thank youuu 💞💞💞💞

PRINCESS PARTS! — NANAMI KENTO

SYNOPSIS...nanami always has to make sure that he always inspects his pretty princess

INFO...nanami x fem!reader, slight fingering, spanking, degradation, nanami being a tease, pussy inspection, nanami is kinda mean, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

thank you so much for the request pookie I hope you enjoy it!

as soon as you stepped out of the car from running errands all day (the errands being shopping with your husbands credit card) you got a text a from him asking to come to his office. You weren���t sure what the occasion was, but when you finally made it into the house with the millions of bags, you gingerly made your way over to your husbands office.

For some reason you felt a bit nervous. Nanami always calls you if anything important, he rarely ever texts, but you never question him on anything. “Ken?” You softly call out, seeing his office door is cracked, slowly opening it to see him sitting in his chair, sipping on a glass of whiskey. “Hi.” You smile. “I just came back from the store! I got these pretty dresses I think—”

“Come here.” He sternly spoke, his glass clinking on the wooden table as he set it down. His gaze never left yours, like a predator trying to intimidate its prey. “Come here,” he repeated. The silence was deafening bedsides the wood creaking under your feet as you hesitantly stepped closer. And when you got close enough he pulled you over his lap in the blink of an eye, leaving you breathless. “What’s this?” He held up your panties in his hand. You stayed silent looking down in shame. You could feel his large hand rub over the fabric of your sundress, toying with the hem of it as he lifted it slowly. “Ah,” he let out a chuckle, one that had a hit of annoyance.

“I’m sorry.” Was all you could muster. You knew we’re in the wrong. Before leaving to go shopping, you decided to wear any panties, but stupidly enough you left the evidence in the room for him to find. He fully lifted the fabric, exposing your ass to the cool air of his office.

“You left the house without any panties on? What were you planning to do, huh?” He swatted your ass, making you jump. “We’re you playing with my pussy on the way home? Playing with in the dressing room? Cause you’re that much of a desperate little slut.” He slapped your ass again, a small whimper falling from your lips.

“No, no! I swear I didn’t touch myself! I just…” You didn’t really have an explanation as to why you did it, only making it harder for him to believe your words.

“No? You sure? You know I have to check, right?” He squeezed the plump flesh of your ass, spread your cheeks slightly to get a good look at your cunt. He licked his limps, swiping his thumb over your slit. “Gotta make sure my pretty princess didn’t cum without me, yeah?” He spread your legs farther before taking his fingers and spreading your lips, watching the way your pink hole fluttered around nothing. He could see how wet you were getting, gathering some of your slick and rubbing your clit with it.

“Ken,” you whimpered, squirming in his lap. He ignored you, slapping your ass again as a warning to stop moving.

“I just have to make sure, baby. I know how much of a slut you like to be, showing off your pretty pussy. You’re just a dumb little thing who doesn’t know any better.” He slips his thumb into your pussy, moving it around and rubbing against your g-spot before slipping it out. “Why are you so wet?” He slaps your ass again.

“I’m sorry! It just…feels so good,” you explain, biting down on your bottom lip. You look back, staring up at him was such a desperate look, only to be met with his cold gaze.

“Use your words more. Tell me.” He gently caresses your face. “Is it this?” He slips his thumb back in, watching the way your jaw drops and brows furrow. You nod at his question. “Words.” He spanks your ass harder.

“Yes! It’s that! It’s everything! I like when you inspect my princess parts, and make sure I’m not misbehaving,” you confess. Kento hummed in response, slowly massaging your walls with his thumb.

“So you’ve been doing this on purpose? Leaving your panties around the house for me to find so you can get your pussy touched and looked at. What am I going to do with you?” He shakes his head, clicking his tongue at you. He slips out his thumb, rubbing your neglected clit in slow, agonizing circles. “Get up.”

“Wha-why?” You asked, confused. “Ah!” He spanks you once more. You quickly scurry off of his lap, standing in front of him and pulling your dress down.

He hands you your panties from earlier. “Put them back on and sit in your mess. You think being bad gets you rewarded?” He scolds you, watching as you slip your panties over your legs, pulling them up. “And don’t you dare sneak off and try and make yourself cum like the desperate little whore you are.”

“But, please,” you mutter. “I’ve been waiting all day. I know—”

“Do I need to repeat myself?” He clenches his jaw. You shake your head. “Good. Now, go and grab the new clothes you bought and put on a show for me, yeah? I’ll be waiting.”

[defmaybe]

That's So True

12 Days of Christmas: Day 10, January 3rd, 2025

aespa’s Uchinaga Aeri/Giselle & Yoo Jimin/Karina x Male Reader

5.3k words

Christmas Masterlist

The chatterings of the party goers fill the house, with a faint hint of Gracie Abrams’ That’s So True hanging in the air. The place reeks of cheap perfume (you added the cheap part by yourself, you really don’t know which is expensive and which is not), beer, and rum.

You’re somewhere in the house, playing a game with your friends, and your friends of friends. The bottle spins, as the players are watching it expectantly, anticipating the next candidate for truth or dare. It slows down, and the sounds of people’s breath hitching can be heard as the tip of the bottle goes near them.

(The stake here isn’t anything more than shame, really. Still, it’s a pretty huge predicament for college students.)

Finally, it stops, claiming Yoo Jimin as its victim. You watch her whine in slight disappointment, but there’s a glint, there’s a glint in her eyes that shows something more—excitement.

“Truth,” Jimin says.

You’ve always considered yourself lucky to be within Jimin’s radius, even if it’s just being a friend of a friend. There’s the obvious—her gorgeous, angelic features. You swear you can just look at her face all day without doing anything else, and that would’ve been enough for you.

Then, there’s her personality. It’s another thing you’ve always admired. She’s a leader, a goddamn 4.00 achiever, the perfect epitome of a student. She’s a debate team president, and now she’s sitting in the same circle as you, playing truth or dare, ready to be asked the most embarrassing questions.

“So,” Beomgyu begins, tapping his knees in a rhythm. He’s the faculty’s drummer, after all. “Alright, I couldn’t think of the question. My bad, guys”

The others watch Beomgyu with a slightly annoyed expression (they still love him, of course).

“Don’t start if you don’t know how to continue, man,” Jimin scoffs, turning to others for a spark to her question. “So, anyone?”

Nothing seems to run through your mind at the moment. You’re not an idea kind of person, to say. Your mind is blank.

“What is the worst–” Taehyun utters, but he seems lost on where to go next. The words hang in the air without closure “–fuck.”

“Is that fuck an exclamation, or it’s a part of the question, huh?” Jimin playfully teases him. “I mean, I can answer that if it’s the latter~”

God, she’s so charismatic.

Taehyun chuckles. “I’ll go with the second choice, then,” he says.

Jimin lets out a mischievous smirk. “Well, this is about two years ago, more or less,” she starts her story, as everyone in the circle gathers around to listen intently.

“I was fucking a guy, riding him like crazy. He was whimpering and moaning and all that stuff, you know? I thought he was perfect, being a submissive little slut like that,” Jimin says, an expression of wrath forming on her face. Fuck, she looks so hot when she’s mad. “I’m still mad at him, goddamn it.”

You only nod along with the story like the others, listening to her carefully.

“Everything was going so damn well. God, I even remember how he moaned like a bitch, ‘Nghhh~ Jimin, your pussy feels so good. Jimin, I’m your little man-whore, nghhh~’, like that,” Jimin mocks the poor man’s words while also mimicking the riding movement. You can see her breasts moving along with her motion.

This is fucking arousing. You’re starting to feel the tent inside your pants forming. Imagine being Jimin’s little man-whore like that, watching her tits jiggling while she’s on your cock. A few more shots and you could’ve been drooling all over the floor, being a laughingstock for all of your friends like that.

“That–That’s a very vivid imagery, Jimin,” Minjeong adds. The others are nodding along with her.

Jimin shrugs. “Guess I can be a bit–shameless, you know?” she says with a giggle, making the crowd smile along with her.

“Alright, back to the story. I was riding him, and he was moaning,” Jimin continues. “Everything was going fine. Then he fucking slapped my tits.”

You can see Minjeong clenching her lips, hard. She’s trying not to burst out in a huge laughter, so is Taehyun, so is Beomgyu, so are a lot of other guys in the circle.

Jimin shoots the crowd a glare, whining in frustration, “Come on, guys! He fucking slapped my tits!” Jimin then slaps her chest softly, and that breaks the group.

The crowd erupts in laughter, unable to comprehend the sheer absurdity of the situation. Kai is already on the floor, dying from the hilarity. You can’t help but chuckle along with the guys.

“Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you!” Jimin shouts, but the laughing crowd doesn’t seem to care, still laughing. You watch as Jimin leans back, watching the scene unfold around her, annoyed.

“Hmph!”

“Alright–Alright,” Yizhuo says, still laughing. She then reaches out to her friend for the bottle. Yizhuo wiggles it in her hand slightly, before she spins the bottle again, bringing the crowd’s attention to the object. The bottle rotates. Everyone, mostly still smiling, are watching it with anticipation, ready to see who will be the next victim of the game. Gracie Abrams’ That’s So True seems to repeat itself. The DJ probably forgot to turn the repeat function off. The guitar rings around the house. The bottle continues to spin, continuously slowing down second by second.

And it stops.

At you.

Fuck.

“Since Jimin picked truth–”

“Yeah, I know,” you quickly cut Yizhuo off. “Dare me something.”

You glance around the group. The men are thinking. The women are thinking. They’re probably trying to imagine the most embarrassing thing they can do to you.

“Hmm,” Beomgyu makes a thinking sound before seemingly having an idea. “Grind on somebody’s lap for thirty seconds.”

Your eyes widen in shock, trying to comprehend Beomgyu’s words. “Grind?”

“It’s the worst I could think of without taking off your clothes,” he nonchalantly says, shrugging.

“He could’ve done it for thirty-one seconds, you know,” Soobin chimes in, and the circle erupts in laughter, as you watch the events unfold shyly.

“Ha–alright, man,” Beomgyu says, still giggling. “Who’s going to be the lucky person here?”

The laughter subsides, and the circle focuses their attention on you. You look around the crowd, all red and flustered. Fuck, what is happening?

“I–uh–”

“I don’t mind,” Jimin blurts out with a loud burp, eliciting a few giggles. “I’m already taking a lot of flak tonight, so–come grind on my lap, pretty boy.”

Your eyes widen once more, not believing the words that just came out of Jimin’s pouty lips. Is she–Is she inviting you to grind on her lap? Your mind goes haywire. Your breathing quickens. Fuck, you can’t focus.

“C’mon, you’re already a bitch either way.”

You slowly get up from the floor, all anxious. You walk towards Jimin, who’s invitingly spreading her legs wide, gesturing you towards her.

As you reach Jimin, you lower your plump ass onto her lap. Jimin’s hands creep up your waist, gripping you in your place. Your body shudders at her touch.

“Alright, someone get the stopwatch,” Taehyun says. Yizhuo would be the one to do it, setting the timer at thirty seconds.

Your ass is hovering just above Jimin’s lap, leaving a small space because you just can’t bring yourself to. Suddenly, Jimin pulls you down onto her crotch, making you yelp.

“Nghhh!”

Jimin bursts out a laugh at your submissive response. Her hold on you is firm. She’s only allowing you to move sideways. Yeah, you’re definitely not leaving her before the timer runs out.

“Ready?” Yizhuo asks.

You take a deep breath on top of Jimin before replying, “Y–Yeah.”

“Alright, go!” Yizhuo then presses the start button.

Thirty seconds left.

You move on Jimin’s crotch awkwardly. Your hands find their grips on her strong shoulders. You feel the friction between your ass and her lap heating you two up in the space between. This feels so weird, yet so weirdly comforting. You somehow feel so safe on top of her like this.

“Mmm, just like that, bitch,” says Jimin, and you can only smile shyly in response.

Twenty seconds left.

Jimin starts to thrust her hips up your ass, making you bounce softly on her, her hands still gripping onto your waist tightly. You’re trying so hard to stifle your moan from coming out and embarrassing yourself.

You feel–reduced, reduced to her little man-whore, yet you find comfort in it. Your eyes start to flutter. Your vision is filled with stars.

“C’mon, moan for me. I fucking love it when men moan,” she encourages.

Ten seconds left.

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s Jimin’s charm from below you. Your moans leak out from your lips as your movement quickens. You’re feeling like a bitch right now.

“Nghh~”

“Fuck, yeah! You’re putting on some show, pretty boy!” Jimin cheers, and that only spurs you on. Her hands are tightening on your waist. Your motion becomes more and more frantic. You’re revelling in the way she’s talking you down into her bitch.

“Alright, time’s up, guys.”

Your hands find purchase in her hair, as you grind her crotch recklessly. Your whimpers are echoing through the room. Through your narrowed eyes, you see Jimin watching you like a predator, smiling wickedly, taking in the view of her nasty little slut grinding on her lap like this.

“Guys.”

Your pants are tightened from the sensations pooling below your ass. Your whimpers become loud moans. You grind on her crotch as quickly as possible, and it feels so great, being reduced to her little man-whore like this. You swear that you can just do this forev–

“Guys!”

You’re snapped out of your little trance. It takes a blink of an eye, and you see Jimin laughing under you. Around you, the guys just watch in shock (there’s nobody filming, luckily), some having their mouths hanging open, some having their eyes widened.

“Time’s up,” Yizhuo says, showing you the zeroes on her phone.

“Oh, s–sorry,” you reply, before regretfully leaving Jimin’s lap. She’s still laughing under you.

—

You chug in a cup of beer, and another, and another. You’re still trying to make sense of what just happened earlier. You just grind on top of Yoo Jimin’s lap recklessly, moaning and whimpering on top of her. 

God, you were such a bitch.

“Hey.” Suddenly, a sound comes from your back, sounds familiar. You turn back to face its owner.

It’s Aeri, right hand holding her beer cup.

“H–Hey,” you reply nervously. The image of your intimacy with Jimin is still playing in your head.

Aeri shoots a look of concern towards you. “Are you okay? You seem a bit–red,” she asks.

“I–I’m okay, just a little drunk,” you answer, trying to brush her off the fact that you were just dry humped Yoo Jimin minutes ago.

“By the way, the guys were just talking about you,” Aeri says with a giggle. Her thumb is pointing towards your friends’ group that are trying to impress the women. “You grind on Yoo Jimin’s lap?”

Fuck.

You can only stand still in your place, unable to move a limb.

Aeri laughs at your petrified reaction. “Oh my god, you’re such a slut!” She gives your shoulder a friendly slap.

“I–It was a dare, Aeri,” you say apprehensively. That’ll prove fruitless, of course. She’s already thinking you’re a slut. She’s still laughing at you for doing so.

You wouldn’t call Aeri your closest friend, even if the distance between you and her is smaller than that of you and Jimin. You two greet each other in class. You two greet each other outside of class, but that’s it, nothing more, nothing less.

Aeri is more of a carefree type than Jimin. Getting a B is already an achievement for her. She drinks twice a week, stays over at somebody else’s place once a week. Her friends would call her a slut, and she’d happily accept it.

“Are you going to grind on someone’s lap again tonight?” she asks, giggling. “Or maybe eating some ladyfingers~”

“My god, Aeri.” You slap her shoulder softly.

“Alright, see you around!” Aeri says. You wave at her, and she waves back, before she disappears into the crowd again.

Why are you even here?

—

You’re sitting alone on the bed in the house’s bedroom. There’s a Little Fish poster on the wall. The owner sure has some taste. A few vinyls are stacking on top of one another near its player.

You’re trying to comprehend what just happened earlier. You were grinding on a popular girl’s lap, then another one came in to mock you. Oh god, it’s over.

A knock on the door pulls you out of the destructive cycle you’re in, at least.

“Yes?” you utter, and the door opens.

It’s Jimin. She’s peeking through the space between the door and the wall, as if to make sure that no one else is in the room but you (well, there’s no one else here). She then quickly enters the room, closes the door, and starts walking towards you.

“Uh–okay?” you say, puzzled by how she’s acting.

“Heyy,” Jimin greets you again. She seems a bit more–drunk?

“Hi, Jimin.” You figure that you should apologize to her. You just embarrassed her and yourself like that, and her nonchalant reaction may have been a mere defense mechanism!

“Look, I’m sorry about that dare. I should’ve controlled myself better. I’m sorr–”

Your train of thoughts is derailed by her fingers invading your mouth, making your entire body shudder in surprise. Your eyes open wide at her action. Fuck, what is she doing?

“Strip, now,” Jimin orders, drunkenly, fingers playing with the insides of your wet cavern, before she pulls them out, leaving you empty.

“Wh–What?”

“I said ‘strip’, bitch boy. What the fuck is so hard about that?” Her eyes are barely open.

“B–But–”

She plunges her wet fingers into your mouth again, stifling your slutty moans and whimpers. Her hand reeks of alcohol and something that screams her.

“Slut,” Jimin drunkenly utters, before using her free hand to unbutton your shirt, slowly revealing your abdomen inch by inch. “Just–ugh–be a good boy and listen to me, alright?”

You are starting to get lost in the haze of desire, and you can say nothing but nod at her filthy words. Your hands go to your belt, hastily unlocking it from your slutty waist. Your pants come off a little too easily, now pooling on the ground. Your cock only has your boxers left to cover it.

“A slut with a big cock–” Jimin chuckles, using her free hand to stroke your cock from the outside, and you can only moan into her filthy hands “–fucking perfect.”

You’re still sucking on her fingers enthusiastically, like a common whore. Your hands can only sit still by the sides. You don’t dare to touch her body again yet after what happened out there.

“You can touch my tits, you know. You’re standing like a rock, and it’s fucking weird,” Jimin says, and that gives you the permission to her voluptuous breasts.

Your hands start softly, from merely wandering on her tits from top to bottom. You can feel the bra underneath her midriff shirt. It’s barely containing her chest. God, fuck, she’s huge.

“You fucking love my tits, don’t you?” Jimin asks, fingers still busy exploring your mouth. “Strip for me and I’ll let you suck on them.”

You then stammeringly pull your boxers down to your ankles, freeing your cock from its tight confinement. It springs free in excitement, and you just can’t wait to plunge it into Jimin’s puffy cunt.

Your shirt follows suit as Jimin finally unbuttons it completely. You quickly get rid of the restrictive garment, and now, you’re completely nude in front of Yoo Jimin.

“Great body,” she says with a giggle, finally taking her fingers off your slutty mouth. Jimin then takes your hands towards the hem of her top, pulling it upwards, revealing the black bra that’s barely able to contain her tits. They’re almost spilling from the confinement. Fuck.

“Yeah, I fucking know they’re big, slut. Just–wait a sec,” she sneers, as her hands reach towards the back of her bra, hastily unlocking it. And with that, the garment comes off. You’re greeted with the sight of her breasts hanging gorgeously in front of your face, with brown nipples topping them. Her nipples are already hard, so ready for you to–

“Mmm~ s–suck it, slut,” she groans, her body trembling before you, hinting the pleasure she gets from this. Her hands press you harsher into her tits, wanting you to take in the taste.

Jimin reeks of the earlier alcohol, with a hint of salt on her nipples. She has been sweating a bit. God, imagine if you get to taste her after a workout, her body slick, shining with sweat. The salty taste on her tits permeates your tongue. You get to taste her sweat like that. What an experience that would be?

You keep sucking on her tits like there’s no tomorrow. When you suck on one side, you’ll use a hand to knead on the other, feeling the divine softness in your hand. You’re hungry, and only Yoo Jimin’s breasts can satiate your burning hunger.

“Wh–What a bitch,” Jimin sneers, but that only drives you further into the seemingly unending lust of yours.

Suddenly, Jimin grabs onto your hair, yanking your head back to face her beautiful features. It hurts, but in Jimin’s hand, your cock only grows harder and harder.

“Alright, get on the fucking bed,” Jimin orders, and you quickly complies with it.

Jimin follows you onto the soft bed, climbing onto it while her eyes are roaming your pliant body. She’s almost drooling at the sight, seeing you all being submissive for her like this.

She quickly discards her shorts and her already-drenched panties, and you can only watch her show in awe. Her pussy looks nothing short of puffy, so mouthwatering.

She then climbs on top of your pliant body, ready to fuck you senseless on your cock. She lines herself up with your length, before slowly lowering herself down.

At the first contact, both of you groan with the intense pleasure coursing through your bodies. Her pussy feels utterly diving, so fucking tight. Your breaths come out in a stuttered rhythm. Your entire body trembles in pure bliss.

“F–Fuckkk~” you mewl. Your mind can barely register anything but the tightness of her pussy enveloping your thick cock.

“Y–You goddamn s–slut, why is your–ugh–cock so b–big?” she moans, her body shaking in the pleasure you’re giving her.

“I–It’s g–genetics,” you answer her coyly.

Jimin bursts out a laugh on top of your cock, clearly amused by your reply. “God, you’re such a bitch, aren’t you?”

You can only shyly giggle. She’s almost at the hilt now, but the pleasure is already too intense for you.

“G–God, you’re so damn tight, J–Jimin,” you utter, unable to make sense of her otherworldly grip on your cock. God, she’s so tight.

“Th–Thanks,” she replies, her voice still stern. Her hands are drawing lines on your chest with her neatly-manicured nails. The sensation is just too much—on your abdomen, on your cock, on your mind.

Finally, she’s at the hilt. She screams in pure ecstasy. You’re splitting her open with your cock. Both of your eyes are fluttering in bliss. This feels so good.

“Oh f–fuck, you’re so–so big!” Jimin shouts. You watch as her hands are shaking on top of you, unable to handle the sheer size of you.

You say nothing, instead creeping your hands up her pillowy breasts, adding another hue of sensation to her. You start to play with her nipples, making her body spasming on top of you.

“G–Goddd~” she mewls.

Jimin then moves back up. Your cock reappears from the base once more. The feeling around your cock is ecstatic—her inner walls grazing your cock like this. It’s insane.

“Nghhh~” you moan, trying to comprehend the feeling.

“I–I’m going down now, s–slut,” she says, before ramming back down. The sound of flesh slapping into each other echoes through the room.

“Fuck!” Both of you scream in unison, involuntarily.

She moves up again, then down, then up, then she finds her rhythm on your cock. Her pussy feels unreal. She’s gripping you like a vice, so tight, so right. Without knowing, you’re plowing into her pussy with reckless abandon.

You pound her roughly with any force you have, aiming to fill her womb with your salty nectar. The sounds of moaning and flesh slapping rings through the room. The room reeks of sex. Your hands creep up onto her big breasts again. They feel so soft in your hands, and you decide to give them a firm squeeze, making Jimin’s body writhe above you.

“G–God, y–your hands, s–so good,” she says, voice barely above a goddamn whisper. Her back arches. Her eyes are fluttering. She’s falling apart.

A knock on the door pulls you out of your trance. Your motion comes to a halt in surprise.

“Heyyy, I know you guys are in there~”

Fuck, it’s Aeri.

Jimin quickly covers your mouth with her drool-stained hand, not wanting you to alert Aeri of your presence. She’s still grinding your cock recklessly, and you’re doing your best not to moan like a slut (even if you already are).

“I–It’s–ah–just Jimin here, A–Aeri,” Jimin says, trying to hide the fact that she’s using you as her fucktoy. Though the evident stutter in her voice gives way.

“C’mon, Jimin, don’t hog him just for yourself. I wanna use him too! Pleaseeee~” Aeri pleads. You can feel the desperation coming from the outside.

“Ugh, this fucking woman,” Jimin scoffs, hips moving on top of you in a hypnotic motion. Her breasts are jiggling as she moves. “Just–don’t forget to lock the door!”

You hear a happy giggle from the outside. The door opens, and here comes Aeri, still in the same clothes as the time she called you a slut earlier in the night. Though she’s already in the process of hiking up her crop top up. Her bra is slightly visible.

“Wow, Jimin, he’s already inside you? Naughty, naughty girl!” says Aeri as she closes the door. A loud click is heard.

“Tsk, says the college’s slut,” Jimin scoffs, before she goes back to riding the soul out of your pliant body.

“God forbid a woman be a little slutty, I guess,” Aeri sneers before taking off her crop top.

Aeri’s cup size, though not as large as Jimin’s, is still pretty damn impressive if you’d weigh in on this topic in the men’s circle. Her bust is also barely contained by her lacy bra, can’t see why someone wouldn’t be caught within her presence.

Your eyes are glued to the barely contained breasts of Aeri’s, despite being buried deep in Jimin’s cunt. Aeri sways her hips playfully, pulling you into another trance. It doesn’t stay for long though. Jimin calls you back into action with a flick on your taut nipple.

“Hey! Don’t–mmm!”

Jimin plunges her fingers into your mouth for the umpteenth time, it still works, of course. You’re still sucking her slender fingers like a whore (you’re a whore, her whore). Your hands roam over her body to have a grab on her large bust hanging gorgeously above your face.

“Fucking wh–whore,” Jimin sneers, unimpressed by your antics, although drowning in the pleasure of being touched by you. She seems to really want you as hers, doesn’t she?

“Ngmm~” you can only whimper out.

“Oh, come on, Jimin. Don’t be so harsh on him!” Aeri protects you, as she slowly takes off her bra, waiting to use your body in some way. “Don’t want him to cum so fast. You know how much of a slut he is, right, baby?”

You nod sheepishly with Jimin’s fingers still inside your mouth. Degradation only makes you cum faster, and you wouldn’t want to piss Jimin and Aeri off by cumming before them.

As Aeri’s bra comes off, you’re greeted with her perfect breasts. Her dusky nipples are already hard, ready to be sucked and nibbled. You’re so ready for the second pair of tits for tonight.

“Oh, c’mon, Aeri. You’re distracting him!” Jimin whines, her hands are trying to divert your attention back to her bouncing on your cock. It works, sometimes. You can see Aeri giggling in the corner of your eyes.

“Alright, alright, how about–” Aeri takes off her shorts and panties in a single swoop, putting her mouthwatering cunt on display for you “–I sit on his face.”

God, she looks so delicious naked like this.

Back to her latest words first, though. Did she just say she’s going to sit on your face?

“Seems fair,” Jimin replies, gesturing Aeri to your vacant, unused face.

“Wait, I can’t–”

“You can, slut,” Jimin commands. Her voice is stern. Her pace on your length remains reckless, trying to coax the cum out of your full balls. “Don’t think you have any say in this, bitch. Tonight’s my–no–our night.”

You only whimper in response. You’re going to get double-teamed by Jimin and Aeri, and you couldn’t be happier than this.

Aeri then climbs onto the bed, approaching you like a predator eyeing its prey. She puts her legs on both of your sides, caging your head with her meaty thighs. Her pussy is just right above you. And slowly, she lowers herself onto your face, ready to suffocate you with her cunt.

“Oh god,” you utter, so lost in the throes of pleasure Aeri is about to give you.

She lowers just one of her knees close to your head. You’ve seen a video on this before. It’ll help the woman to not get tired too quickly. Her pussy is so close to your face now, and you can do nothing but stick your tongue out, ready to eat her out.

“Oh, and,” Aeri says, halting her motion slightly, making you groan in disappointment. “Do you want to kiss me, Jimin?”

“Ah, not my thing. Sorry,” Jimin replies with a polite smile, keeping her movements erratic on your cock. God, this feels so good.

“It’s fine,” Aeri says, before completely sinking herself onto your face, making you take in her taste.

“Fuckkk~” Aeri screams. Her body is shaking in the pleasure you’re giving her. Her hands grip onto the sides of your head tightly. She doesn’t want to let you go.

It’s not hyperbolic to say that Aeri’s taste is insane. You’re completely hypnotized by her flavor on your tongue. She has the perfect amount of saltiness, and the perfect amount of musk. Aeri’s pussy is driving you haywire, even if it’s in a different way that Jimin is making you feel.

“So–perfect for–a facefuck, god!” Aeri shouts, starting to ride your face like it’s hers (it’s hers).

The sensation is unreal. Jimin is trying to pump cum out of your cock with her grinding motion as if you’re her fucktoy (you’re her fucktoy), while Aeri is riding the shit out of your face as if you’re her fucktoy (you’re her fucktoy). The scent of her pussy is filling your nostrils, and you can’t help but grab onto both women’s breasts.

“Goddd~” Aeri groans, body shaking on top of you. Jimin says nothing but letting you play with her tits, though a few whimpers are leaking out of her lips.

Aeri’s juice tastes so damn good, and you’re happily lapping her up hungrily. Her juice is running down your chin to your neck, creating a filthy trail on your pretty face. You’re revelling in her taste. You’re revelling in the way you’re pleasing her. You’re revelling in the way she fucking keens on top of you.

“S–So, you’re not all just a pretty face, huh?” Aeri asks, her taut body trembling on you. She keeps riding your face frantically. God, she really is going for it.

You answer with an even more intense movement of your tongue, making Aeri scream on top of you. She grinds on your face even faster and faster.

Inevitably, you’re going to reach the precipice. You can feel the heat pooling in your crotch. You’re going to cum inside Yoo Jimin’s pussy!

“Nghh~ g–gonna cum,” you say. It’s barely coming out with Aeri’s cunt on your mouth like this. 

You hear Aeri giggle softly above you, body trembling in pleasure. “Well, this is rather fast, isn’t it?”

“You’re late, Aeri,” Jimin says, slightly dissatisfied with Aeri’s complaints. “Maybe you can come here instead of whoring out while he’s balls deep inside of me.”

Aeri giggles again. “Fineee~ just let me know when you guys are fucking.”

“G–Girls, gonna c–cum–nghn.”

Both Jimin and Aeri quicken their pace on top of you, chasing their own orgasm. They really want to cum with you, don’t they?

“A–Alright, I’m c–close–ah,” Jimin utters. You can hear her frantic breathing from below. Her grip on your waist becomes tighter. Your left hand alternates between her breasts, giving them the treatment they deserve.

“M–Me too,” Aeri says. Her muscles tense up under your touch. Her brown nipples are harder than ever. The three of you are going to cum at the same time!

“Nghh, I–I’m so c–close, girls. C–Can I cum inside you, J–Jimin?” you ask. The feeling is irresistible now. You’re so, so close.

“F–Fucking fill my–my womb, bitch,” Jimin scoffs, her voice stern. “Breed me like–like the whore you are.”

Her words spur you on, as you thrust up into Jimin’s cunt as fast as humanly possible. Your mouth ravages Aeri’s folds recklessly.

Jimin would be the first to break. Her cunt gushes out clear liquid onto the bed. Her body spasms on top of you. You can feel her wetness pooling on your stomach. Aeri follows suit. Her squirt leaks out of her pussy onto your face as you happily drink it. Both of them scream, forming a cacophony that fills the room. 

“Yes! Yes! Fucking–Fucking love this cock.” Jimin shouts. You aren’t so sure who’s going to hear that, but you don’t care. You’re about to cum inside of her.

“G–God, I’m painting your face so good!” Aeri says.

You let go. Your cock shoots ropes and ropes of cum into Jimin’s womb. You’re breeding Yoo Jimin with your cock. Your entire body writhes under both women’s bodies. 

“I can feel it twitch inside me!” Jimin says excitedly, softly raking your body with her nails.

Your eyes flutter in ecstasy, unable to make sense of the sensations on your body. There’s the feeling of Jimin’s ass on your cock. There’s the feeling of Aeri’s thighs on your face. There’s the scent of sex and sweat filling the room. That’s So True can still be heard. It just won’t stop, will it?

Finally, you come down from your precipice. You’re panting along with the women, trying to catch your breath in this post-orgasm bliss. Fuck, that felt good.

“Slut,” Jimin sneers, getting off from your cock at the same time as Aeri unlatches herself from your face. “Bathroom, now.”

You quickly comply with her order, getting off from the bed and walking towards the bathroom. You feel so submissive, so pliant, yet it feels so right, being their little bitch boy like this.

“One more round?” Aeri jokes, giving your ass a slap, making you yelp.

“Oh, definitely,” Jimin says, determined in her voice.

“M–Maybe, I gotta take a break.”

—

[hottiesforhockey]

may the best brother win pt 3 ⎜hughes brothers

pairings: quinn hughes x afab!reader ⎜luke hughes x afab!reader ⎜ jack hughes x afab!reader ⎜ genre: romance ⎜bachelorette-esque situations ⎜angst? ⎜friends - to - lovers warnings: tension...lots and lots of tension ⎜make out ⎜ mild grinding ⎜ slut shaming ⎜ jack's a dick ⎜ quinn being protective ⎜ luke being a cutie patootie as per usual ⎜ not a lot tbh ⎜shoving ⎜ synopsis: you have been friends with the hughes brothers for years - but why does this summer feel so different? word count: 6.6k authors note: this is the much anticipated Quinn chapter - there will be one more part after this one that will tie everything together, there hasn't ended up being much actual smut in this series cause it's just not fitting as I'm writing so apologies - btw who do people think the reader should be ending up with?  (p.s. i will be posting chapter aesthetic pics at the bottom so you can get an idea of what I was picturing :) )

(unedited)

“He’ll come around eventually.” Luke sighs as he watches your gaze follow his older brother around the backyard. 

“You’ve been saying that for days, Lukey—” You let out a long sigh, pushing your sunglasses onto the top of your head as you adjust your position in the sun-chair, “We all know that if there is one thing Jack is good at, it’s icing someone out.” Luke just nods his head along - having also been on the receiving end of Jack’s frosty attitude. 

“Look Jack and I are going back to jersey from some promo stuff, give me that time to try and settle things with him.” Luke suggests, shooting his older brother a glare as he notices him looking over at the two of you sitting side by side at the pool. “Just enjoy your time with Quinn and try to relax a little.” He adds and you nod along, pulling your sunglasses back down to your nose, lying back on the sun-chair. 

“You know what, maybe I will.” 

+

+

Luke gathers you in his arms for a quick hug, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder as he and Jack get ready to leave for their trip back to jersey. “It’s only two days.” Luke whispers and you nod, squeezing him back just as hard — Luke and you have become almost inseparable since your date with him to the fair, something lingering between you since you had kissed that night - but things in the lake house had become increasingly tense since Jack had stormed away from you that same night - refusing to hear your side of the situation. 

“Okay, you can let go, Luke.” Quinn chuckles as he steps forwards, tugging you from his younger brothers arms, Luke looking at him with a pout before huffing and making his way out of the house. Jack still stand by the door looking between you and his little brother with a roll of his eyes. 

“Have a safe flight.” You peep, Jack eyes shooting to you as he gives you a stern nod before following after Luke, shutting the door closed behind him, leaving just you and Quinn in the big house. 

“Guess it’s just you and I now.” Quinn teases, his mouth right besides your ear, his hands tight on your hips. You shiver at the feeling of Quinn’s warm breath against your ear, his teasing tone making your stomach flip. His hands linger on your hips, sending a tingle up your spine as you glance up at him.

“Guess so,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady, though the tension between you is undeniable. Quinn’s eyes search yours, his lips twitching into a small smirk that makes your heart race.

“You gonna miss them?” he asks, his voice softer now, though the playful glint in his eyes remains.

You nod, swallowing hard. “Of course. But… it’ll be nice to be able to breathe for a little bit.” Quinn chuckles, his grip loosening as he steps back, though the warmth of his touch still lingers. 

“You’ve earned it,” Quinn says, breaking the moment as he steps back, his hands finally leaving your hips. His touch lingers in your mind, though, as he walks toward the kitchen, casually tossing over his shoulder, “Come on. Let’s make the most of this—I'll cook dinner tonight. Unless, of course, you’re still holding a grudge about the whole grill incident?”

You smirk, trailing after him into the kitchen. “Grudge? Quinn, you almost set the deck on fire.”

“Details,” he quips, opening the fridge and pulling out a few ingredients. “I’d call it a learning experience. Besides, I’ve been perfecting my skills since then. Tonight, you’ll see. Gourmet chef Quinn Hughes in action.”

“Should I alert the fire department ahead of time?” you tease, leaning against the counter. His lips twitch into that familiar smirk, and the way his eyes flick over you as he sets the ingredients down makes your stomach flutter.

“I think you’ll survive,” he shoots back, handing you a knife and a cutting board. “Now, sous-chef, make yourself useful and chop these.”

You take the knife, raising an eyebrow. “Bold of you to trust me with this. I could sabotage your big redemption arc.” Quinn steps closer, his presence making the small kitchen feel even smaller. 

“I’m willing to take that risk.” His voice is lower, a little softer, and for a moment, his eyes meet yours, holding your gaze longer than necessary. Your breath catches, but before you can respond, he steps back with a teasing grin. “Just don’t lose a finger. I’m not great with first aid.”

You shake your head, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck as you focus on slicing the vegetables. Quinn moves around the kitchen with ease, his arm occasionally brushing against yours as he reaches for spices or utensils. Each touch feels intentional, sending a spark through you that you can’t quite ignore.

“So,” he says, leaning casually against the counter as you work. “What’s the plan while Luke and Jack are gone? Binge some trash TV? Go for a swim? Or are you just gonna sit here and miss my brothers?”

You glance up, smirking. “And what makes you think I won’t be enjoying you instead?” The words are out before you can stop them, and Quinn’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. For a moment, you worry you’ve overstepped, but then his lips curve into a slow, mischievous smile. 

“Careful,” he says, his voice dropping just slightly. “Say things like that, and I might start thinking you actually like having me around.” Your cheeks flush, and you quickly look back down at the cutting board.

 “Don’t let it go to your head, Hughes.”

“Oh, too late for that,” he says, laughing softly. But there’s something in the way he looks at you now—something darker, more intent—that makes your pulse quicken. As the two of you work together to prepare the meal, the atmosphere shifts. The teasing banter is still there, but it’s layered with something heavier, the air between you charged with an unspoken tension. Every glance, every accidental touch seems to linger, leaving you hyperaware of his presence.

By the time you’re sitting at the table, plates of food in front of you and glasses of wine in hand, the tension feels almost unbearable. Quinn raises his glass, his eyes meeting yours across the table. “To a quiet house and good company,” he says, his voice warm but his gaze steady, almost challenging.

You clink your glass against his, your heart pounding as you murmur, “To good company.” The conversation flows easily as you eat, but there’s an undeniable pull between you. Quinn’s leg brushes against yours under the table, and neither of you moves away. His fingers linger on yours for a moment too long when he hands you the wine bottle to pour another glass. Every laugh, every shared look seems to bring you closer, the space between you shrinking bit by bit.

After dinner, you find yourself leaning against the counter again as Quinn washes the dishes. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his forearms, and you catch yourself staring before quickly looking away. He glances over his shoulder, catching you in the act, and his lips twitch into that infuriatingly knowing smirk.

“Something on your mind?” he asks, his tone casual, but there’s a flicker of something more in his eyes.

“Just surprised you didn’t break any plates,” you quip, trying to keep your voice steady. He turns off the faucet, drying his hands before stepping closer, his proximity sending a jolt through you. 

“You’re always so quick to underestimate me,” he murmurs, his voice lower now, his eyes locked on yours.

“I’m just realistic,” you counter, your breath hitching as he leans in, one hand bracing against the counter beside you.

“Is that so?” he asks, his voice a near whisper now, his face inches from yours. You can feel the warmth radiating off him, the intensity of his gaze holding you captive. For a moment, the world seems to pause, the air between you crackling with anticipation. But then, just as quickly, Quinn steps back, a playful grin on his face as he grabs a towel to finish drying the dishes. 

“Guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong,” he says lightly, as if nothing had happened. You let out a shaky breath, your heart racing as you watch him. Something tells you this won’t be the last time Quinn Hughes leaves you breathless.

Later that evening, you find yourself sprawled on the couch, a movie playing on the TV as Quinn settles in beside you. The warmth of his body next to yours is both comforting and maddening, every slight movement sending your nerves into overdrive.

“You okay there?” Quinn asks, glancing over at you with a smirk as he notices your fidgeting.

“Fine,” you reply, your voice a little too quick. You shift slightly, putting a bit more distance between the two of you, though the effort feels futile. The space doesn’t help when his arm stretches out across the back of the couch, his fingers brushing lightly against your shoulder.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he says softly, leaning closer, his voice barely audible over the movie.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shoot back, refusing to meet his gaze. You can feel his eyes on you, though, studying you with that same quiet intensity that makes your stomach flip.

“You’ve been jumpy all night,” Quinn continues, his tone teasing but laced with curiosity. “Is it me? Do I make you nervous?” You let out a laugh that comes out shakier than you intended, finally turning to look at him. 

“Quinn, you’re not nearly as intimidating as you think you are.”

“Oh, really?” he replies, raising an eyebrow. His hand drops from the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against your arm, and your breath catches. “You sure about that?”

“Positive,” you say, though the quiver in your voice betrays you. Quinn’s smirk deepens, and he leans in just slightly, his face so close now that you can see the flecks of blue in his green eyes.

“I think you’re lying again,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm. His hand lingers on your arm, his thumb tracing small, deliberate circles against your skin.

“Quinn—” His name comes out as barely a whisper, your heart pounding so loudly you’re certain he can hear it. “Why are you doing this?” The words come out of your mouth before you can even think about them, Quinn jolting away from you, a look of panic and confusion clouding his eyes, his mouth opening and closing as he thinks of what to say. 

“This whole stupid bet, why did we let this happen?” You clarify, barely noticing the way Quinn relaxes a little the concerned expression falling from his face.  

Quinn exhales slowly, his shoulders easing as he looks at you, his hand still lightly resting on your arm. His gaze softens, his usual teasing demeanour melting away. “Because I think we all wanted it to,” he admits, his voice low and uncharacteristically sincere.

Your breath catches at his words, the weight of them sinking in as the charged air between you becomes almost unbearable. “But what about Jack? Luke?” you ask, your voice trembling as you search his eyes for some kind of reassurance.

Quinn leans back slightly, running a hand through his hair. “Jack’s... complicated,” he says with a small, wry smile. “He’s protective and he has a lot of things going on in that tiny brain of his, but he’ll come around. And Luke—he just wants you to be happy, that’s all he’s ever wanted.” His eyes meet yours again, and for a moment, it feels like the world has shrunk down to just the two of you.

“And you?” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “What do you want?” Quinn’s lips twitch into a faint smile, but his gaze is intense, serious. “I want what’s best for you,” he says softly, his hand moving from your arm to gently cup your cheek. The touch is so tender it sends a shiver through you, and you instinctively lean into it.

“Quinn...” you start, but the words get caught in your throat as he leans closer, his forehead brushing lightly against yours.

“This bet has clearly gone further then any of us intended and I think we all have a lot to think about but it’s supposed to be fun.” Quinn says, his older brother tone kicking in, his words almost seeming like a reprimand as he adds, “You’re supposed to be having fun but it doesn’t seem like that happening anymore.” 

“I am having fun.” You say quickly, “well kinda having fun.” The tension continues to sizzle around the room, Quinn’s hand still warm on your arm, his thumb still tracing soft circles.  

“I’m sure we can make things more fun.” He says teasingly, his eyebrows lifting in surprise as you scoot forwards on the couch, your eyes meeting his before dipping down to his lips. 

“I’m sure we could.” You agree, your mind screaming at you to stop and walk away - this is what got you into trouble in the first place. “I’ve already kissed two of you, why not get a hat trick.” You whisper, Quinn letting out a breath of laughter as he leans a little closer. 

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “If this isn’t what you want, just say the word, and I’ll back off.” His voice is steady, but you can see the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, the hesitance he’s trying to hide.

But stopping is the last thing you want.

Instead of answering, you close the small gap between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s soft and tentative at first, as if testing the waters. Quinn responds immediately, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss, pulling you closer. The world around you fades away, and all you can focus on is the way his lips move against yours, the way his hand anchors you to him like he’s afraid to let go. When you finally pull back, both of you breathless, Quinn rests his forehead against yours, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips.

“Luke is still the best kisser.” You tease, Quinn’s smile dropping as he shoves you off the couch, a big pout on his face as you let out a bark of laughter, wishing you could take a photo of the oldest Hughes. 

“Well that was barely a real kiss, just you wait.” Quinn says, his words holding a promise that sends a tingle down your spine. 

+

+

The next morning, you wake to the sound of Quinn knocking softly on your door. His voice is muffled through the wood, but you can hear the teasing edge in his tone. “If you’re not up in ten minutes, I’m leaving without you.�� You groan, dragging yourself out of bed and cracking the door open. 

“What are you talking about?”

Quinn leans against the frame, an infuriating smirk on his face. “We’re going to the beach. Pack a bag—towels, sunscreen, whatever you need. I’ve got the rest.”

“You planned this without asking me?” you tease, though the thought of a beach day makes your heart lift.

“Spontaneity is good for you. Come on, move it!” he urges, tapping the doorframe before heading back down the hall. It doesn’t take you long to pack, and before you know it, the two of you are in his car, the lake house disappearing behind you as Quinn navigates the winding roads toward the coast. The windows are rolled down, and the salty breeze filters through as the scenery shifts from lush greenery to sandy dunes.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” he remarks, glancing at you as he changes lanes. “Second thoughts about spending the day with me?” You smirk, turning toward him. 

“Just mentally preparing for the endless teasing I’m sure to endure.”

“Oh, you know me too well,” he says, his grin widening. “But you’ll survive.” The drive takes about an hour, the two of you falling into easy conversation as the miles pass. Quinn insists on singing along—badly—to a playlist he made, and you can’t help but join in, laughing so hard at his exaggerated falsetto that you have to wipe tears from your eyes. When you finally arrive, the beach sprawls out before you, the sun glinting off the waves and the sand warm underfoot. The sight is breathtaking, and you feel a sense of peace settle over you.

“Not bad, Hughes,” you admit as you step out of the car, taking in the view.

“Told you it’d be worth it,” he says, grabbing a cooler from the trunk. “Now, help me carry this stuff before you get too impressed.”

The two of you find a spot near the water, setting up a colourful umbrella and spreading out towels. As you kick off your shoes and dig your toes into the sand, Quinn sets to work unpacking the cooler.

“You ready to relax?” he asks, pulling out a couple of drinks and handing one to you.

“Ready to win at whatever dumb competition you’re planning,” you counter, taking the bottle from him.

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, you think you can beat me?”

“Absolutely,” you say, tossing your sunglasses onto your towel and sprinting toward the water. “Race you!” Quinn lets out a laugh and takes off after you, his long strides quickly closing the gap. Just as you’re about to dive into the surf, he catches you, hoisting you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. You squeal, pounding lightly on his back.

“Put me down, you oaf!”

“Not until you admit defeat,” he teases, spinning you around as he wades into the waves.

“Never!” you cry, laughing as the cool water splashes against your legs. Quinn wraps his arm tighter around your legs as he wades deeper in the water taking in one deep breath before letting the two of you fall backwards the water engulfing you both. Quinn surfaces first, flinging his wet hair off his forehead, his hands reaching for you in the water, helping you steady yourself against the moving sea. 

“You suck” you say, your voice lighter than you feel. Your hands clearing the water from your face as Quinn reaches forwards, gently pushing your wet strands away from your face, trying to tuck them neatly behind your ears. 

“Maybe,” he replies, stepping closer. “But you like me anyway.” You roll your eyes, pushing him away lightly, though the moment lingers, the air charged with something unspoken.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of laughter and sunshine. You challenge each other to frisbee and volleyball, Quinn smugly claiming victory each time, though his moves are anything but fair. When you finally collapse onto your towels, exhausted and content, the sky is streaked with hues of pink and orange.

“Worth the drive?” he asks, handing you another drink as the two of you watch the waves lap against the shore.

“Definitely,” you admit, leaning back on your elbows. “Even if you cheated at literally everything.”

“Cheated? I think you mean ‘strategically outplayed,’” he counters, smirking as he leans closer, his shoulder brushing against yours.

You glance at him, the teasing words on the tip of your tongue fading as you meet his gaze. The playful banter dissolves, replaced by a quiet intensity that makes your pulse quicken.

“Quinn…” you start, but he shakes his head, his voice soft as he interrupts.

“Let me guess—you’re going to tell me Luke’s still the best at something?” His lips twitch into a smile, but his eyes search yours.

“No,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was going to say… thanks. For this.”

His expression softens, and he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Anytime,” he murmurs, his hand lingering by your cheek. “We should head back, it’s getting dark.” He says as he clears his throat, making quick work of packing up your stuff, insisting he can carry everything as you trail behind him, the situation almost identical to your date with Jack. 

As you follow Quinn back to the car, a mix of emotions swirls inside you. The day had been perfect—a much-needed escape from the tension back at the lake house. But now, with the sun setting and the beach fading into the distance, you can’t help but feel the weight of the situation creeping back in.

Quinn loads the car in silence, his movements efficient but unhurried. When he finally settles into the driver’s seat and starts the engine, he glances at you, his expression unreadable. “You okay?” he asks, his tone gentle.

You nod, though your chest feels tight. “Yeah. Just… thinking.” He doesn’t push, but you can feel his curiosity. The drive back is quieter, the earlier laughter replaced by a comfortable, contemplative silence. The hum of the engine and the rhythmic passing of streetlights become a soothing backdrop as you lean your head against the window, the cool glass grounding you.

When you finally reach the lake house, the porch light is on, casting a warm glow over the front steps. Quinn parks the car and gets out, coming around to open your door before you can move. “Chivalry isn’t dead, huh?” you tease, though your voice is softer than usual.

“Not on my watch,” he replies, offering you a hand. You take it, the contact brief but electric.

Inside, the house is quiet, the absence of Luke and Jack palpable. Quinn sets the cooler down in the kitchen and stretches, his shirt riding up slightly to reveal a sliver of toned skin. You look away quickly, your cheeks heating.

“You hungry?” he asks, breaking the silence.

You shake your head. “Not really. Just tired.”

Quinn nods, leaning against the counter. “It’s been a long day.” He hesitates, his gaze flicking to you before he continues. “You know… if you ever need to talk about—well, anything—I’m here.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and you offer a small smile. “Thanks, Quinn. That means a lot.” You wipe your hands on your shorts your bikini still wet underneath your clothes. “I might go shower, maybe we can watch another movie?” You ask softly, Quinn nodding quickly as he insists on making your a sandwich cause what kind of date would he be if he didn’t feed you. 

As you climb the stairs to your room, you can feel his eyes on you, a warmth in his gaze that lingers long after you’ve closed the door behind you. Slipping out of your swimmers and under the scalding water, you replay the day in your mind—the teasing, the laughter, the quiet moments that spoke louder than words. Quinn Hughes was proving to be more than just the easygoing, confident guy you thought you knew. 

And that realisation is as thrilling as it is terrifying. All three of them had proven to be so different from what you always thought you knew. You’d known them since you were kids and yet they each had shown you a completely different side of them over the past few weeks. 

As you slip into your pyjamas and brush your drying hair, you let out a long huff, you straighten out your sleep shorts, and tug on your extremely oversized New Jersey Devils training shirt you had stolen earlier in the summer from Jack, before creeping back downstairs, the wafting smells of a grilled cheese floating from the kitchen. You pause by the entryway as you watch Quinn move around the kitchen, his shoulders dropped forwards as he mumbles to himself under his breath clearly frustrated with something. 

“Quinn?” You question softly as you take a small step further into the kitchen, his head flicking towards you, his eyes immediately dropping to the t-shirt your wearing and your exposed legs before flicking back up to your face with a frown. 

You step closer, your heart pounding as Quinn runs a hand through his hair, his body tense in a way that you've never seen before. The faint sound of the grill sizzling in the background seems to fade into the quiet air around you, as though the whole world has slowed to a crawl. You catch his gaze, and there’s something raw in it—something that makes your breath catch.

“Are you okay?” you ask, your voice quieter than usual, as if any louder tone might break the fragile moment that feels suspended between you two. “You don’t look fine.” Quinn glances at you, eyes dark with something unreadable, before dropping his gaze to the floor, shifting uncomfortably. He doesn’t immediately answer, and you step even closer, this time reaching out to touch his arm. It’s almost electric, the heat from his skin seeping into your fingertips.

“I’m just... not sure about some things,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck as if the weight of the words is too much for him to bear. “Things with you... this summer... us.” You swallow, trying to steady the rapid beat of your heart. This isn’t just a conversation about friendship anymore, and you both know it. You lean in slightly, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body but not quite close enough to make the leap into whatever’s building between you.

“What do you mean?” you ask softly, the words barely above a whisper. Your hand slides from his arm to the side of his body, where it lingers, testing the waters. Quinn’s breath hitches. He seems to hesitate, eyes flicking from your face to the floor, then back again, like he’s fighting an internal battle. 

“I’ve always cared about you,” he says finally, his voice a low rasp that sends shivers down your spine. “But lately, it’s different. I don’t know... I don’t know what it is, but every time you’re near me, I—” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening as if he’s trying to hold back. But it’s too late. The tension between you two is palpable, thick like the heat of the kitchen. You can feel it humming in the space between you, making everything else feel irrelevant. “And Luke and Jack—” He pauses again. 

“You don’t have to explain,” you murmur, moving even closer, your body now mere inches from his. Your voice is soft, but your words are firm, giving him the space to breathe without the pressure of clarifying himself. “I feel it too. But it’s hard, isn’t it? This... whatever this is.” He looks at you then, his gaze searching, raw with something deeper than just desire. 

“Yeah. It is,” he admits, his voice rough, husky. His hand twitches as though it wants to reach for you but holds back, like he's unsure whether he has permission to cross that line. “They’re my brothers, I’m supposed to take care of them, put them first but this time—” 

You take another step forward, your chest brushing against his ever so slightly, feeling the heat radiating off him, the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. Your breath catches, and the air around you both seems charged, heavy with unspoken words, unacknowledged feelings.

“Quinn...” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper, but the weight of his name on your lips feels like an invitation.

“This time I don’t want to put them first.” He resolves. His eyes darken in response, a flicker of something dangerous and thrilling flashing across his face before his hand finally, finally, reaches up to cradle your cheek. His touch is soft but firm, the warmth of his palm grounding you as his thumb gently strokes over your skin. The tension between you two is almost unbearable now. Every inch of your body screams for the contact you’ve both been avoiding all day.

He leans in slowly, his breath mingling with yours, and the world seems to disappear in that instant. Your heart hammers in your chest as you lift your hand, brushing lightly across his chest, feeling the hard line of his muscles beneath his shirt. His lips are just a breath away, and for a moment, neither of you moves. It’s as if the air itself is holding its breath, waiting for one of you to give in.

“Are you sure about this?” Quinn’s voice is thick with want, but there’s still hesitation in it, like he’s asking for your permission, even though his whole body is screaming the opposite.

You swallow hard, your fingers curling into his shirt as your other hand slides up to rest on his neck, pulling him closer. “I’m sure,” you whisper, the words barely audible but full of certainty.

And then, it happens.

His lips find into yours with a fierce urgency, his hands immediately cupping your face as if to make sure you’re real, that this isn’t just some fantasy. The kiss is hungry, full of pent-up desire, a perfect storm of longing and need. You kiss him back with equal intensity, the heat between you growing exponentially as your lips move together, desperate and demanding.

His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, and without a second thought, you open to him, letting him deepen the kiss. He groans softly against your mouth, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine. You can feel the tension in his body, the restraint slipping away as he presses you against him, your chest now flush with his. 

This kiss, the one that Quinn has promised you yesterday when you teased him… was so worth the wait. 

Your hands roam, pulling him closer, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt, tracing the lines of his shoulders as you move your lips from his mouth to his jaw, to the sensitive spot just below his ear. He hisses in response, one hand moving down your back to fist in your shirt pulling you even tighter against him, as he gives you a boost to sit on top of the counter, his lips finding yours again as he pulls your pelvis against his, his hands firm on your hips as he pushes the two of your together tightly. 

“This is crossing a line.�� Quinn hisses as he detaches his mouth from yours, resting his forehead against your own as he lets out shuddered breaths. His hands slipping under your shirt as he glances down at it, a soft growl leaving his throat. “This stupid fucking shirt, you should be wearing mine not his.” Your mouth drops open in surprise at the possessive tone in Quinns words, the older brother usually much more in control. 

Quinn takes the opportunity to attach his lips to your neck, your head falling back to give him better access as you let out a soft breath, your hands tangling in his soft curls, his hips rolling against yours as he sucks harshly on your skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful, but you’d look so much better if there was no doubt about who you belong with.” Quinn whispers against your skin, moving his lips lower before beginning to suck again. 

Your hips roll against his as he sucks a particularly sweet spot, his thumbs rubbing soft circles on the skin of your abdomen  - the two of you jolting at the sound a suitcase hitting the floor. Quinn pulls away from you, the two of you shooting a glance over at the stunned hockey player standing in the entrance to the kitchen, a frown growing on his face as he takes the two of you in. 

“Honey, we’re home— oh shit.” Luke’s voice carries through the silence, being the second body to make an appearance, his eyebrows raising in surprise as he takes in the sight, his smile turning in a smirk as he cocks his head to the side. “I know I said have fun but this seems like a little more then I was anticipating.” Luke lets out a soft laugh, clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder who just shakes it off, his glare moving from his older brother to you. 

“Fun?” Jack lets out a humourless laugh, his eyes dark as they lock with yours. “If you call whoring yourself out fun then she’s great at that.” You can’t help the way your body flinches at his words, Quinn letting out a scoff as he helps you slide off the counter, fixing your shirt before tucking you behind him, facing Jack with a frown. 

“You wouldn’t be acting like this if she was doing it with you.” Quinn spits back, his arms crossing against his chest as he blocks Jacks sight of you, your hands gently gripping the hem of his shirt. 

“She’s not better than a puck bunny at this point - look at her, she’s got fucking hickeys and she’s using this stupid bet to the best of her advantage.” Jack spits back, Luke elbowing his older brother in the side, telling him to ‘shut up’ as subtly as he can manage. 

He’s not wrong. 

Not entirely anyway. 

“No look at them Luke, are you really okay with the fact that the girl you’ve been head of heels for is dry humping our brother.” Jack continues, your grip getting tighter against Quinn’s shirt as Jack’s words sink in. “This bet has become a way for her to act no better then a common slut.” Jack’s words are the final nail in the coffin as you let out a small whimper, your hands knotted in Quinn’s shirt the only thing stopping him from taking a step towards his younger brother. 

“What the fuck man.” Luke says first, stepping away from Jack as he looks down at him in disgust. “Why would you say something like that, she’s our friend.” Luke continues, shaking his head in disbelief as he makes his way over to you, his eyes meeting Quinn’s for a fraction of a second as he scoops you up in his arms at the same time as Quinn rips his shirt from your grip, stalking towards his brother. 

“Don’t listen to him, he’s being an idiot.” Luke whispers against your hair as Quinn’s words cut through the room.

“You’re just mad that this whole bet was your idea to try and get close with her and it hasn’t gone how you planned it to.” Quinn starts, Jack standing his ground as his older brother shoves harshly at his chest, “News flash Jack, not everything revolves around you, not everyone falls at your feet just because you want them to.” Quinn takes in a long breath, “She is a grown adult and can do whatever the fuck she wants and whoever the fuck she wants, so don’t get mad at her just because you can’t handle that you have feelings for her and she might not have the same feelings for you.” You’re almost choking on the anger radiating from the two brothers, Luke keeping your head buried in your chest as he strokes your hair. 

“I wish we never did this stupid bet.” You whisper against his shirt as you pull yourself out of his arms. 

“I… I don’t want to listen to this,” you mutter under your breath, your voice shaky, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. Your hands tremble as you try to push away from Luke again, the reality of the situation crashing down on you in waves. Every part of you wants to lash out, to make Jack understand how much his words hurt, but all you can manage is to turn away from the chaos, retreating into yourself. Luke’s protective instinct kicks in immediately. Without a word, he steps forward, his expression fierce, eyes narrowing as he places a firm hand on the small of your back, pushing you in front of him as he guides you towards the staircase.

“Enough,” Luke snaps, his voice low and threatening, but the kind of warning that makes even Jack hesitate. “You don’t get to drag her into this. Not like this.” His gaze flickers over to you, his eyes softening with concern. “Keep walking, let them sort their shit out,” he says, his voice soft but firm, reaching out for your hand. You meet his gaze, your eyes searching his face for a moment, before nodding weakly. The hurt still lingers in your chest, but Luke’s presence is like a shield, blocking out the venom of his brothers’ words to you and to each other.

“I’m sorry,” Luke adds quietly as he leads you up the stairs. “I should’ve never let it get this far.” His grip on your hand tightens, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away from him if he lets go. You follow him, your feet dragging as the anger and frustration churn in your stomach. You want to say something, want to confront Jack for what he said, but the words seem to die on your tongue, swallowed up by the sadness in your heart.

Luke doesn’t stop until you’re safely inside your bedroom, the door shutting softly behind you. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him. “Just... breathe, okay? You’re okay. You’re not what he said, and I’m sorry for all of this.”

“I didn’t... deserve that,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. Your hands move to cover your face, but Luke gently takes them in his own, guiding them back to your sides.

“You’re right. You didn’t,” he says, his tone firm but caring. “Jack’s an idiot. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. But we’ll fix this, alright? I promise you.” You nod slowly, the tears finally escaping, sliding down your cheeks as Luke wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. The warmth of his body, the steadiness of his heartbeat, is the only thing grounding you as the weight of everything finally catches up to you.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he murmurs against your hair. “This is a mess but we can fix it.” Luke keeps his arms around you as he walks towards your bed, only letting you go to let you slip under the covers, his hands making quick work of stripping off his shirt and kicking his shoes off before sliding onto the bed besides you, pulling you back into his arms as he lets out a long breath. 

“Jack was right with some things.” Luke whispers, his warm breath fanning against the top of your head as he rests his chin there. “I am head over heels for you, and I think a part of me always has been, but I know my brothers feel something for you too and I’m not mad at you for exploring what you might feel for them.” Lukes words sink your heart into your stomach, your mouth dry as you think of what to say. 

“I just hope that maybe whatever is between us is a little bit stronger, and I know that makes me selfish but a man can dream.” He lets out a bitter laugh as his hands stroke against your back. 

“Luke…” you start, your voice getting caught in your throat as you feel him shake his head. 

“I just needed to put that out there - I don’t expect anything but you deserve to know.” Luke cuts you off, his head moving slightly as he drops a soft kiss to your forehead. “Just sleep, we can deal with everything tomorrow.” Luke’s heart thunders in his chest, his hands steady on your back, his breath steadying out before yours does. 

“I think I need to leave.” You whisper into the dark room, only brave enough to say the words once you’re certain Luke has fallen asleep. 

[westside-rot]

Talk To Me Nice

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black reader

No warnings for this one. Hopefully there aren't too many errors cuz it's only lightly edited. I'm trying to squeeze in my last post of the year lol

This little idea is the result of a writing prompt and @megamindsecretlair keeping me honest about writing something every day. Figured I'd share the results with whoever else wants to check it out.

“That’s a bit harsh my love…”

After spending the last 20 minutes filling your home with negative energy you expected reciprocation.  Instead you were being derailed with a new form of gaslighting, the kind reserved for evolved men who appeared harmless on the surface but harbored a petty side few got to see. Though impressive, you knew Terry was only using kind words to paint himself the victim. It didn’t matter how many steps ahead you thought you were. The guilt still hit with the same bruising force.

Six months of newlywed bliss cruelly interrupted by disappointment you never wanted to feel so early into your marriage. Perhaps there was a better way to convey that hurt to your husband. Maybe sitting him down for a mature conversation would’ve spared you from the growing pressure around your temples and the rawness in your throat from all the yelling you’d been doing. You were convinced the window for apologies and grand romantic gestures had closed. He'd started it. You were damn sure going to finish it.

You pushed through your doubts and committed to your frustrations with arms folded tightly across your chest, the initial urge to roll your eyes shifting to a hard, resolute stare. “Well Terrence sometimes harsh is necessary.”

He scratched his beard and nodded as though you’d just agreed on what to have for dinner. Silence took over the room once again, intensifying the conflict between you. His eyes never broke contact.

“Are you done?” From anyone else the question would’ve triggered your inner toxic and possibly resulted in the police being called. But there was note of calmness in your husband’s voice that exonerated him from the accusation before it became your new truth. Terry wasn’t being dismissive. He was simply better at regulating his emotions.  His inability to stop wringing his hands together revealed the stress hidden within. For a second time you were forced to ignore your guilt for the sake of winning. Mirroring his casual demeanor, you continued to stand firm and prepared for whatever he intended to say next.

“I must’ve imagined sitting in premarital counseling for all those weeks. Or maybe I was the only one taking it seriously. That must be it 'cause at the first sign of a problem you’ve broken every promise we made to each other.” His words landed direct hits on your conscience. Everything holding you together began to cave under the weight of his response. Terry wasn’t wrong. Instinctively, you went into defense mode anyway.  

“That’s not fai—”

“Nah, you’re not about to interrupt me. I let you speak. You’ll show me the same respect. Understand?” The natural base in his voice instantly got your attention. Yes sir rang so clearly in your mind you weren’t entirely convinced you hadn’t said it out loud. You prayed Terry couldn’t somehow feel the lust pulsing alongside everything else flooding your system. One day soon under normal circumstances you were going to explore his newfound aggressive side. How, you weren’t entirely sure. With a new goal seared into your brain and soaked through panties clinging to your ass you managed to retain a sense of dignity as you obeyed your husband’s command. 

“You’re my wife. One day you’ll be the mother of our children. I refuse to let them hear us talking crazy to each other, so I’m gonna need you to find a better way to communicate your feelings. If I need to sign us back up for therapy I will but this shit ends tonight.”

All the fight drained from your body. Shame took its place. In its presence you were finally able to recall those important conversations leading up to your wedding, the dreams you shared, the legacy you wanted to create. If not for your anger you could have revisited them sooner and found a better use for them. Now you were facing an evening apart, perhaps more depending on how long Terry held on to a grudge.

All you could do was stare at the ground and wait for it to be over with. Hopefully you’d find a way to sleep knowing you had failed your first test as a wife. When your lip started to quiver you promptly bit down on it to keep your hurt feelings in check.  You hadn’t behaved in a way deserving of care but when Terry's long fingers reached out to palm the side of your face you sought out his warmth like a needy kitten.

“Now you’re breaking my heart.”

“I can’t help it. Did you have to be so mean?” Though you found your ability to speak you burrowed your pout lips further into his hand. The loudest person in the room didn’t deserve to cry. If you were lucky you'd disappear and rematerialize tomorrow with more sense.

“It got your attention. Besides, I thought harsh was necessary. Or does that only apply when you’re cursing me out?” He chuckled.  You weren’t persuaded by the playfulness in his voice to look up. Terry initiated the gesture with fingers affectionately placed beneath your chin. It wasn’t lost on you that he'd repositioned your face at the same proud angle you held while lecturing him as if two nights apart somehow equated to years of neglect. You wanted to look away but soon discovered his eyes remained steadfast and beautiful in the aftermath of the storm you’d caused. They connected with your soul in an instant providing a gentle assurance that you were safe with him.

 The words flowed through your upturned lips effortlessly. “I’m sorry baby. You didn’t deserve all those ugly things I said to you.” Before you could say more he captured your face in both hands, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“You’re already forgiven my love.” Terry’s lips grazed yours as he spoke. The distance was torture. Finally, after what felt like an unbearably long time, he covered your mouth with his, reestablishing his dominance with a tenderness that sets your heart and mind at ease.  It was a proper reconciliation, but it also wasn’t enough. Not after the way you behaved tonight.

You treated the sincerity on his lips as your own personal buffet. When it became difficult to breathe you pulled away to regain control over the situation.  “I still have a lot to make up for.”

A smile tugged at his lips as he pushed the curls back from your face. “We both do. Your approach needs some work, but you had a right to be upset with me.” You nodded and yet nothing in you wanted to celebrate the vindication. You were simply relieved to know you hadn’t caused any irrevocable damage by overreacting. Even more relieved to see him smiling again.  "I think my beautiful and extremely childish wife should get the honor of going first.”

The frown you attempted to hold cracked under the pressure of his wide grin. You hate being teased. You were also guilty on all counts and willing to take your punishment. “I suppose that’s fair.”

“It’s very fair.” He mumbled between prolonged kisses down your neck.

You exhaled and curved your fingers over his broad shoulders. It was becoming harder to think or even breathe with him sucking everywhere his lips could reach. “Can we talk it out like grown-ups tomorrow?”

“Of course, baby. It's mandatory from now on.” When he spoke the guttural quality possessing his voice registered deep in the places he’s yet to touch. You felt painfully empty but knew you wouldn’t stay that way for long. At the rate his lips were moving you weren’t convinced you'd make it past the couch. You preferred the comfort of your king-sized bed the scene of your crime was a fitting place for getting down on your knees to make proper use of your mouth.

Terry surprised you when he broke the suction on your collarbone to reunite at eye level. There was a noticeable glint of mischief in his eyes before he bent down to throw you over his shoulder. You squealed and braced a hand at the center of his back for support you really didn't need.

"You better not drop me trying to be cute!"

"I was planning on letting you off easy tonight. Now I'm thinking your apology needs to be as loud as all that shit you've been talking."

"Yes daddy. Remind me what all these big strong muscles are really for. Also, please send help!"

With a single act you reclaim the home you’ve built, your gasps and combined laughter echoing along the walls as he carried you upstairs.

[kaisaerinlover]

rin nii and sae nii

darkcon , incest , aged up

pls don’t read if you don’t like darkcon

to sae, rin isn’t competition. to rin, everything the two have been doing that’s the same since he was 16 and sae was 18 is a big competition. one that he knows he has to win. he doesn’t want to let the redhead have anything up over him ever again. sae doesn’t care. sae is a calculated and cold man. rin is an erratic mess. but the one thing the two brothers always manage to share a value consensus on is their baby sister. sweet innocent you. it’s a shame you’re so innocent, or not, because if you weren’t you would know how disgsuting your big brothers are.

when your brothers are football prodigies, globally renowned for their talent, and both known for being extra secretive about whatever it is they have going on in their lives off of the field, being their little sister gets harder. your parents don’t like you as much, you’re the child who bore not a single fruit of your mother’s labour (literally and figuratively), you are the child who cannot bring anything to the table, whilst rin and sae both bring a feast and several trophies. you are you and your brothers are so much better. above you in every way. born with natural beauty and talent.

but they don’t share that corrupted view your parents do, not at all. you’re all siblings, you can tell from a single look. yet you wear those big eyes better. those long sought after itoshi lower lashes sit so much more dainty on your eyes. the eyes both of them hate and love to see tearing up beneath them. the eyes they had to pretend to ignore when they both left you to pursue their soccer careers further. it’s a shame really, even as kids you were a bit neglected by your brothers. a bit is an understatement. rin was a mean kid. sae just didn’t care. they never had time for a baby sister in their world, neither did your parents. your parents had rin and sae, rin and sae had soccer. so what did you have?

the answer is nothing. you didn’t have anything. growing up neglected yet miraculously sheltered from the world. your upbringing is the greatest gift of all though; a gift both the older two itoshis have learned to be grateful for. if your airheadedness ever was replaced by anything other than a dumb mentality they would secretly yearn for years. your aloof nature is a blessing. and they learned that as they matured, as they realised you’re their baby sister. the one they can do whatever they want to. the one they love in a way that’s so sick they wouldn’t even have careers if anyone had found out what was going on between the three of you. the rare occasion when the three of you are together with your parents eating around the table, as you sit between your nii chans cutting your food so quietly. as your parents shower your brothers with praise and compliments for their insane soccer talents. your parents are stupid, they paid so little attention to you as a whole, to your brothers as people; only to their achievements. now they can’t even see the growing rivalry between the two. the only thing sae will ever get competitive with rin for is your affections. but even then, every second they spend with you, both of them together with you, it grows their bond even more. but rin hates that; rin wants you to himself. rin is feral. sae could learn to be content with it though. maybe. if rin knew his fucking place.

the tension between them is always thick whenever you’re in the picture. as thick as it is with soccer. that’s saying a lot, considering their whole lives have been built around the damn sport. and you; god you’re sweet. sweet as sugar. more sugary and tangy than any delicacy the millions in their pockets can buy. and they want it, they want all of it. the only other thing that you could ever argue itoshi sae and itoshi rin could ever want more than glory and to prevail in soccer is to devour you whole. both of them know it. you’re so clueless to it all. like i said, how sheltered you are is a gift. no one normal would let this happen. no one would at all. but you do; you lavish in the attention your brothers nonstop give you to try and win over your pink heart wrapped in a ribbon and covered in stupid glitter because you’re a little attention whore.

when they both left you; you missed them dearly. they are your brothers after all. and your parents completely neglected you, rin was mean, sae ignored you; but they always took care of you. even if it was the bare minimum. they were still your big brothers. you’re a year younger than rin and 3 younger than sae. those are your nii chans. mom and dad had tried again for another boy. but they got you instead. and as rin and sae picked up soccer as a hobby, they felt even more disappointed. their disgust was malleable towards you. they didn’t even bother trying again. your existence was a waste. but your brothers couldn’t be more thankful that you’re a girl. couldn’t be more thankful that they have such a doting little sister. so diligent. so cute. always waiting there even after all those years of them being so mean. always clueless. your innocence is intoxicating. it really is.

rin and sae are competitive. sae could have shared before, i said it already, he really could have compromised with rin. but rin’s anger towards sae all those years ago has never quite died down. he needs to one up the eldest in everything; you’re one of those things. sae thinks rin is lukewarm. rin would say the same about sae. you would say it about neither itoshi as one fucks into your cunt and the other bites at your neck like it’s meat on a bone.

sae is fucking the shit out of you completely, he was always more rough than rin. for the most part. rin is gnawing at your neck now though, misdirected anger; you suppose it’s that way anyway. not that you have much time to think. sae itoshi fucks hard most of the time. he doesn’t want to feel this attachment towards you; he wants to fuck it away. he fucks you so hard it hurts. he’s always like that and it’s not fair. it’s not fair on you (because it fucking hurts), but most of all because the attachment won’t ever leave. sae doesn’t want to be weighted down by this stupid rivalry he has with rin over you, doesn’t want to be compelled to return to you more often than he’d like to admit. he feels something when he’s with you; so different to the years of emptiness and undiagnosed depression that swallowed him for the first while he was in spain. he knows it’s not fair too, but he can’t stop anyway when it feels so good. and you’re a whore for your brothers, no especially about it, you’re a writhing little slut for both of them.

and rin is desperately nipping at your sweet neck, trying to mark you as his. he wants to sink his cock into you as well; but this will do for now. you’re drooling all over, and he is too. your saliva mixing with one another’s and rolling down your plump tits as sae fucks into your sopping cunt. rin is biting as if he’s a vampire, you felt him draw blood a few times. thank god you have your eyes closed because both of your brothers have a look of pure focus right now. pure aggression. aggressive love is what they give you. you really adore your brothers, they know it too. and they abuse it far too much. they shouldn’t do this with you; you’re so sweet and docile. it’s so hard to resist the opportunity to take advantage of you. they still love you, but man you’re cute.

especially now, drool running down your plump pink lips, soaking your chest. mixing with rin’s. rin can’t help but to lean in and lick it up. “so good, so so good ‘mouto” he groans. and sae looks up from the sight of his cock slamming into your warm pussy for a moment just to provoke rin. “i’m making her drool, you’re just biting on her neck like some lukewarm dog” the rivalry is still there. rin just eyes sae up and down and spits out an insult back at him. “you’re disgusting, shitty excuse of a brother, at least i’m nice to her” rin’s words are laced with venom. sae wants to reply, but he’s hitting that sweet spot. so he just keeps fucking your worn out little pussy even harder.

“s-sae-nii- please- please- pl-“ rin just kisses your mouth to shut you up. he doesn’t wanna hear that shithead’s name out of your mouth. rin is pathetically in love with you, but then again, so is sae. “lukewarm, can’t even stand to hear our baby sister say her favourite brother’s name” sae’s words are cold, calculated to cut deep. and it works; rin bites at your lip extra hard. you yelp in pain and god that sound goes straight to both of their cocks. sae hardens inside of you, he didn’t even think it was possible. god their love and everlasting desire for you runs so fucking deep. he keeps pounding into you mercilessly, and he leans down a bit to massage your clit. “gonna make you cum, imouto.” and you whine into rin’s kiss. you’re so overstimulated right now. your brother’s weird competition over you makes for the greatest of fucks, it really does.

every slam of his hips, sae hears an erotic squelch. the squelch of your juices. he sees the trail of precum he left on your stomach earlier, and it just makes him plough into your swollen lips even harder as he massages your little clit. his breathing gets ragged as he’s about to cum, and rin growls into your mouth and bites at your tongue. you’re in heaven, you really are. and you finish. sae does too. and you cry out his name in rin’s mouth. which just pisses rin off even more. he wants to fucking kill sae. you squeal out the eldest’s name as he empties himself inside of your little pussy, little cum pocket for him. his warm cum dripping all inside you, filling you up to the brim. he pants and pulls out, and rin pulls away too. rin has your blood and his saliva around his mouth, sae has his bangs slightly down and sticking to his forehead. he pulls out and lifts up your aching legs a little to inspect your cunt. it’s all red and swollen from the brutal assault of his fat cock penetrating so many times, so hard, so rough. he squeezes your hole a little and watches some of his cum drip down into the crevice of your ass. the one he loves so much. how erotic. he’s hard again, but he plays fair. he gives equal chances. he scoops a bit of his cum and shoves it back in with his fingers. it’s his monster of a younger brother’s turn.

“you can have your turn, rin” sae brushes past him condescendingly and stands at the other side of your head, brushing his hand over your cheek in a way that is so deeply ironic considering the way he just ravaged your pussy. you would be grateful for rin taking his place, rin usually shows you nothing but love and care whilst he fucks you. but not now, all three itoshi siblings are beautiful, rin is not an exception to the itoshi beauty. he looks a bit deranged though, saliva and blood around his mouth. tongue out trying to lap up the remnants. his bangs covering his eyes partially. eyes looking hungry and mad. sae just inspects the marks rin has left around your tits and neck as rin takes his precious place infront of your pussy. god, he’s even mad just seeing sae’s cum on you. he’s so fucking pissed off. he wants you deeply, in a way that’s so feral it’s insane.

sae observes all of the bruises on your neck, and he feels something shift within him. he wants to cover them with his own. he really only feels this way when it comes to you. only deeply cares about one upping his younger brother when it comes to you, because he knows rin is the same. he leans in and pecks your lips gently as he hears rin fumbling desperately with his own pants trying to pull them down fast enough to be able to sink his cock deep inside of the sweet retreat of your pussy. sae is looking off a bit at the wall on the other side of the hotel bedroom as he’s thinking. are they bad brothers? he knows they are, he doesn’t even need to ask himself such a stupid question. every single one of your firsts was claimed by them. first hand holding. first kiss. first date. first heart break when they both left you. he remembers the look in your eyes, rin does too. they even both took your virginity first. he doesn’t think you’ve ever had another man, none that either brother knows of anyway; but he trusts that you haven’t. you’re devoted to your older brothers, you love them so much. and they love you too, they really fucking do. sae is still stroking your head gently until he feels it push against his hand a bit as rin pushes your legs and positions himself to slam into you.

and when he finally does, god, it hurts even more than when sae was fucking you. you can’t tell if rin is rougher, if it’s because sae already hurt you so much, or if it’s a combination of the both. you can’t care though. “nii-chan- ‘s too rough” you cry out almost instantly. and your cry just leads to sae sticking his fingers in your mouth. “shhh, suck.” and you do. rin can’t even talk at the moment. god, his little sister’s pussy never ever fails to deliver nothing short of ecstasy to him. his tongue is out and he’s gripping the bed next to your hips so tightly. every vein on his large hand is bulging so much. he’s in heaven, he really is, right now it’s not about one upping sae, it’s about fucking you so hard. misplaced anger like i said. he thrusts into you so much and all you can do is whine around the finger sae has pushed into your mouth. every thrust you’re scared he’s about to split you in half. every time he hits your womb. evey single time he smashes into you with force that kills you. all he can do is incoherently ramble “gonna fuck you ‘mouto- gonna destroy- your little pussy- tiny pussy- fuck-“ rin is just babbling on and on. low and guttural groans and his nonsensical promises are the only thing leaving his mouth.

and sae is hard from your sounds too. he leans down to add a few marks of his own onto the growing collection on your neck. you’re like a canvas, a canvas where your brothers can nonstop add to you with their brutality or with their love. and you like that, you like being their little plaything, their princess, their masterpiece, their baby sister. you really do. sae bites at your neck, less feral than rin did; he bites in a way so precise and exact, calculated perfectly to leave the marks he intends to. and rin is just slamming into you with no sense of rhythm or strength at all. you just know it hurts. it hurts so fucking good. eventually sae has had enough of marking you, he just sighs as your body still rocks against his hand as a result of rin’s brutal thrusting. he pulls out his cock again and brings it to your lips. “just lick it a bit, don’t need to suck” and you do. you hold your small hand up to steady his cock enough for you to leave a cute kitten lick on it. and rin is still thrusting into you, making you cry out each time. his hands fully gripping onto your little waist. “gonna give you a mouth full of cum, little sis.” sae warns. or is it really a warning? it’s more of a promise. and you try and reply the best you can. the best a human possibly could with a monster like itoshi rin mangling their insides with his cock. “k-kay- nii- cha-“ sae just erotically rubs his cock on your plump lips a bit, and starts jerking off above your face. it’s sick really, getting off on your sister’s ruined face. but they’re both sick and it was accepted years ago already, no point in dwelling on something that was established by both brothers years ago already.

being the centre of both brother’s affections feels good, good beyond words that can even be used right now. there isn’t enough words in a dictionary to describe it. even if you used every language and every synonym of every single word, every comparison, every metaphor, every single technique, nothing could come close to the feeling of bliss and contentment you feel. rin is still fucking you hard, drool dripping all over your stomach and cunt as he fucks you as if his goal is breaking you. sae is jerking off over your face, sometimes pressing his fat cock on your lips, rubbing between them tauntingly. cooing down at you, cooing the way you would to your sister had she gotten hurt, had she done something cute. not this. but it’s okay, none of you care so don’t think about it. not that you can use your head much right now anyway, all you can think of is your brother’s. and that’s the sad yet also joyous truth. the truth that neither brother can win. the only way the competition will end is if they come to terms with the fact that it can’t ever be settle; that when it comes to your big brothers, there’s never going to be a second best. they’re both the same. the only second best is every other man that could ever possibly try and talk to you. not rin, not sae, they’re the best you could ask for. they should accept that neither will prevail, that they have to share, that they should give in already, that they’re both the winners of your heart, but each stroke of sae’s cock over your face and every thrust of rin’s hips you are reminded that it will be a long while before they ever come to terms with that.

you’re so close again, sae is so close again, rin is so close again. all three of you are about to cum, you’re about to be marked for a second and third time tonight. rin gets more and more erratic, sae just bends down to kiss your head again before pushing his cock somewhat past your lips into your whining mouth. you can’t even talk. you couldn’t if you tried, because it’s just too much. you wouldn’t have any words anyway. your nii chans are showering you with the attention you deserve and have deserved since you were a little kid. all those years of neglect mean nothing now that they’re both giving you the highest level of attention a man can give to a girl of your calibre right now. and you love it. sae finally fills up your mouth with cum. rin finally spills inside of you as well, filling you even more than what you deemed possible, past the brim, to the point of explosion. your stomach is probably bulging right now. and you finish too. your pussy throbs in pleasure.

all three of you pant and try and catch your breath, and you choke a bit on sae’s cum. and both of their heads snap up in concern. rin looks at sae menacingly as he sits you up and helps you swallow it all down. “good girl f’ me, ‘mouto, so good” sae praises as you finally manage it all down. and rin snaps at him “get off of her, fucking idiot” all you do is pant and try to sit up to stand. you need a glass of water, seriously. but the moment you push yourself up to stand, you simply crumple to the floor. they really did a number on you. rin and sae’s cum drips down the inside of your thigh, and both of them look at you again with concern. rin grabs you under the arms and sits you on the bed. “careful, baby sis” he mumbles and tucks your hair behind your ear. both brothers are awfully competitive over you, but you’re also one of the areas where they can actually agree on. they need to take care of you. and that’s exactly what they do.

you’re laid in the middle of the bed, wearing one of rin’s jersey’s, hair tied up with one of sae’s hair ties, sae’s socks on. you’re fast asleep. you look so cute and innocent, no, you are so cute and innocent. bundled up in a blanket they both got for you as a gift when you were all just a little younger. rin is looking down at you and rubbing your head, combing his fingers through your hair, and sae is scrolling on his phone. he brings a glass of expensive champagne to his mouth and takes a drink, before resuming his scrolling. “we did a number on her, didn’t we?” he comments to rin without looking up from his phone. rin doesn’t have the energy to be snarky back. he just nods (even though sae can’t see it) and replies. “a bit, yeah”

rin sighs a bit. he looks at the ceiling. the plain white ceiling of the overpriced hotel room you’re all staying in. there was another bed, but they’d just fight over who gets to sleep next to you anyway. it’s offseason, so they both spent time with you. but it’s swallowing rin up knowing he’s going to have to leave you soon. rin was never good at goodbyes. sae was though. sae was always awfully expert at them. rin doesn’t know how he can be so cold, not only to him but to you. he remembers it from when you guys were kids. maybe spain changed him, football changed rin too. they both changed so much for the worst. the only thing that keeps any semblance of goodness within the two men is their baby sister. rin doesn’t want to leave you, he wants to bring you with him. both brothers play soccer in europe. he wishes he got into re al secretly. not to play with his shitty brother (even though it’s secretly a truth) but so both of them could agree on bringing you with them and they’d never have to part from your pretty face again.

do they really have to leave you? probably, there’s a lot of shitheads in europe that there isn’t really back home. he doesn’t want any of those people interacting with you.

sae is thinking the same thing, but it’s unfortunate. there’s someone back in re al already who knows about the weird relationship both itoshis have with their baby sister. michael kaiser. sae supposes him and rin can take turns, if they ever brought you there. rin is in france, he is in spain. it cant be that bad. they could just take turns. they should.

it’s so difficult, whatever you guys have going on. and sae feels bad for letting anyone else catch on. but kaiser won’t tell. he just wants to meet you too. sae isn’t that possessive. he supposed he’ll allow it. it’s one of the reasons he tries so hard to detach from you. your polaroid in the back of his phone that he stares at too longingly sometimes must have given him away. and every other trinket he has of you to preserve your memory.

rin is the same.

the itoshi brothers just long for you, whenever and wherever. and it’s going to be their downfall. it fucking sucks loving you this much, being in a competition that can’t ever be settled no matter what. it sucks being so immoral and corrupt that they feel this way. they feel disgusted with themselves sometimes, rin a little more than sae. but sae has his own fair share of qualms about himself that he suffers deeper with than rin. it’s just a big mess. but when rin strokes your head one more time and sae puts his phone down to stop scrolling and do the same, and simply admire your face, they both know it’s worth it. they would watch the whole world burn for you, the youngest itoshi.

it’s not normal to love your sister in this way, they know it’s not. but you’re so cute, so innocent. soccer is depressing. it’s not all fun and games. they’re both broken beyond repair in their own ways, but you serve as a nice little bandaid for their scars and woes. for all the troubles brought on by soccer. for their depleting mental health. for sae’s nonchalance, sae’s emptiness. for rin’s constant self loathing and inferiority complex when it comes to sae.

they both want to thank you for being there for them in the most innocent and disgusting ways.

[hazelfoureyes]

I'm not taking requests from anon but …. I will….always accept inspiration in my inbox. Just don’t expect a direct response.

I’m alive. Boooooy has shit been difficult and every day I kinda panic but I think survival mode is finally shutting off. I could list all the shit but why? It's not like we arent all wading through varying piles of shit on a weekly basis lately.

Curiosity

Alastor doesn’t believe sex can feel all that great for the ones being fucked. You offer to educate him on the matter with a little hands on learning. Everyone wins.

「Warnings/Promises: Alastor x PussyHaving!Reader (has pussy and is called girl but I mean…I don’t know their business), casual virginity loss, non-sexually repulsed alastor, insulting but highly accurate bowling ball analogy, cervix smooches, creampie because dessert is a necessity, friends with questionable benefits, missionary position, science???, almost fingering, thumb (Singular), empty death threats, saliva as lube」

Minors I will yeet you back into the year of the dragon if you ignore the MDNI 🐉

Alastor’s hooves kicked playfully, slowly, in the air behind him as he rested on his belly. Two clawed fingers kept your lower lips pulled apart as he stared inquisitively at your self consciously twitching entrance.

“People’s things fit in here? I could see fingers, sure. A thumb, maybe…”, he mused, watching you clench around nothing. He learned from Angel more than he liked to admit and things seemed to fit the best for human and hellish anatomy alike. 

A large digit prodded, his head lifting and eyes meeting yours from between your spread thighs. His look was waiting for your approval or dissent. You nodded, sighing out another educational tidbit, “It feels best if things are slick.”

Alastor paused before wrapping his tongue around his thumb and coating it with viscous black saliva. Thumbpad facing down, his curved claw slipped into you easily. The natural roundness of the edges kept you from any cuts, but you had a feeling it’d be easy enough to do harm if he wasnt mindful of how he moved it. 

You could feel his other fingers pressing flat against the bottom of your ass. Instinctively you tightened around the digit.

“It's snug.” He sighed, vindicated. It was far too small a hole to fit anything more without tearing. Therefore: painful. 

“Well, it stretches quite a bit. It can adapt to alot. You - ergh - people can use soda cans and twelve inch dildos even for pleasure.” You rested on your bed, naked from the waist down. Your conversations together were always very open and without shame, neither of you worried to offend the other with questions about sex and gender. So when Alastor mused he couldn’t understand what the pussy-possessors among society got out of sex (he could understand the pleasure of a good squeeze on a cock, even if he hadn’t ever experienced anything beyond a hot mouth and a tight fist) the conversation just naturally progressed to your own personal sex education class. He’d only ever seen such anatomy in medical texts.

He cackled, “You are naive if you think that is true.” 

“Alastor, who's the expert here? I - can you remove your thumb? I feel like a bowling ball.”

Too quickly he took back his finger, your shoulders lifting slightly from the bed from the sudden loss. He paused a moment before adding, “You and a bowling ball have the same number of finger-able holes.”

Your glare went unnoticed, Alastor shifting onto his elbows again.

“Do you think people would willingly have sex if it was always uncomfortable?” You were lifted up on your elbows now too. Locked eye to eye with a very smug deer demon. 

He hummed, humans were animals and all animals followed instinct. “Maaaaybeee.” He teased, eyes breaking contact to look again at the now closed lips. “Regardless,” a wicked grin, “I can’t imagine it fitting without damage and pain.”

A stalemate. 

“You have seen people have sex, right?” You asked.

An uncomfortable pause.

“Why on earth would I watch people have sex?”

Surprise, then confusion, but finally you settled on intrigue.

“Okay, do it. I’ll show you it feels good for me and you can wipe that smile off your face.”

He tutted, “Never.” Alastor saw your flash of insult, “to the smile. Delivering pain is a hobby of mine, no matter the vehicle!”

When he sat up on his knees you shot up and you blurted out, “Wait. Do you have like, hell syphilis or something? Are you clean?”

His hair bristled, “Do YOU have syphilis?!”

“No.” You said it plainly.

Head shaking imperceptibly, a subtle ‘no’ mixed with a silent ‘then why would I?!’ telegraphed via his glaring red eyes, “Me neither.”

A bad start. Speaking of…

“Do you know how to start?”

“Is it much different than my thumb?”

I hope so. 

“Not really.”

He sighed away the remnants of agitation — was he clean?? Really? — and unbuttoned his pants. When his hands paused on the elastic of his underwear your head tilted curiously.

A step you’d both forgotten, cocks inherently had no bones like helpful fingers. Why was the prospect of handling himself mortifying but entering you wasn’t? Very rarely did he find you someone to have any concerns about and never had he felt an ounce of judgment when he admitted his blind spots and areas of naïveté. 

But this was… a step beyond. Almost humiliating in a sense, the source of the feeling was buried deep and obscured by time and disinterest.

“I’ll help.” Sitting up further, your hands went forward before you yanked them back into your bubble, “If that’s alright.”

Perfect, if he wasn’t able to get it up it’d be your fault and not his, he thought.

Nodding, he let his hands come to rest at his sides as he sat back on his legs.

The newness was evident in how he didn’t consider the mechanics of the position. You struggled a little to get this black underwear down his hips enough to release his very unaware cock.

Lifting his hips again and allowing you to pull the briefs down as far as needed (which seemed too far, honestly), you finally had eyes on something you’d been passably curious about.

It wasn’t that he was unattractive but there was a guilt to lusting over Alastor. He’d made it painfully obvious he didn’t find anyone at the hotel sexually interesting. It just isn’t his bag, as Husk had explained. Perhaps liquor had your eyes lingering a little too long on the resident villain.

Nervous and sweaty palms seemed beneficial as you held his soft member. They always felt so silly like this. How useless. Floppy. Your amused smile wasn’t comforting him an ounce.

It twitched, Alastor’s hands fighting to not come to his face and let him disappear away.

“Cute.” You whispered as you wrapped a hand around the Newtonian fluid-esque cock. You didn’t see his horrified face, focused instead on the feel of his foreskin sliding beneath your fingers. Alastor’s attention, too, shifted. He needed to breathe normally and that required all hands on deck (no puns intended). He’d never let anyone in death touch —-

A soft glow of blue flickered somewhere deep in his mind, a sloppy memory of a drunken slip up

It’d been what felt like a lifetime since he’d let anyone put their hands on his body. 

And due to that time his body reacted quickly and soon you had a handful. You both took a relieved breath then, the hurdle mounted. A little shock of pleasure to your core as you stroked his now firm cock made you shiver. It was hot in your hands, how much of that heat would you feel in your guts soon? Would he put it in and just—- pop it out like he had his thumb?

You’d shoo him away shortly after and finish things yourself in that case.

Alastor’s hands lost the battle and came to cover his lower face. That hidden grin showed teeth and he clenched his jaw to keep from letting a mewl slip. His cock was leaking so much it was embarrassing him. 

“Now you’re just playing.” He hissed.

He wasn’t wrong.

Wordlessly you came to lie on your side, a roll to your stomach interrupted as you considered things. With a glance back at the virgin you decided basic was best and returned to your back. Nothing too exciting. 

“Whenever you’re ready, then.” The smugness oozed through your tone. You knew he didn’t know enough to figure out what ready was. 

Alastor parted your legs further with his own widening thighs as he lowered his center to line up with you. He recalled you telling him the hole was very close to the bottom and it hadn’t dawned on him how low that was until the muscles of his thighs burned with the split. How was he going to move like this, he wondered.

Another recollection — wetter is better.

And though he could see a glistening wetness readying to drop down between your cheeks, he wasn’t experienced enough to know just how much your body could self lubricate. So for good measure and out of a sweet ignorance he spit into his palm and rubbed it down his cock from head to root.

The sound made you clench again. Why was that so hot? You’d never kissed, nor held hands. But now his sweat and cum would be fucked into you. 

Another clench as that lightning lit up your core, back bowing slightly with the sensation.

Could overlords sense blood pressure or hear heartbeats? You werent sure, but suddenly you worried about it. You had to close your eyes and focus only on your breathing, unaware it was your turn to hide your true reactions. If you started panting now he’d laugh so hard he’d go soft.

But the truth was, you could begin beatboxing and he wouldnt notice it. He was scooting closer, lowering and then raising his hips again to find a position that he could hold.

Thank Lucifer he never wasted time with this before. 

Finally he lined up and let his held breath go. His cockhead was slick and slipped up between your lips and headbutted your clit when he tried to press in. 

Your shocked scream was stifled into a gritted cry, bringing the back of your hand up to silence yourself. It hurt a little at first but that faded quickly. You whispered a single, “fuck.”

If he wasn’t already cock out Alastor would have just left. But, that would mean saying he was wrong and failed. Which wasn’t going to happen so he slid his cock back down the way he went and pressed into you with false confidence he knew it would go in. 

He gasped when he breached your lips. You were so hot. And that snugness was back, head and just an inch of shaft sheathed but his brain felt like most of his body was being tightly embraced. 

You felt him twitching, and tried to fight back the instinct to tighten around him to feel that little bit of movement even better. It didn’t work.

He hissed a “don’t” when you clenched around him, but you barely heard it over your own little moan. Alastor leaned forward and let his hands rest on either side of your ribs. Head hidden behind long and hanging bangs you couldnt see how his face twisted in concentration. He could cum like this, just one little movement and he was sure he’d finish. Not a normal problem for him, but it's easy to have a 100% win rate for a game you played just a few times before.

Alastor’s body was stick straight above you. 

His body wasn’t touching you except for the cock in you. It was odd, like he was hovering. Would he fuck you without touching you? That seemed so like him.

“Well, color me surprised.” He finally spoke, words breathy. He didn’t smell an ounce of blood so he knew you hadn’t torn. Your body was relaxed beneath him, your upper chest flush. When he looked up you were peering down over your cheeks with parted lips. He’d seen such expressions before in paintings deemed too salacious for museums in his time. 

“It feels even better when you’re moving.” You offered. He didn’t have to continue now that you’d proven your point but you really wanted him to. You’d not been fucked in ages and this was a situation that wouldn’t happen again. “But if this is enough proof…” you trailed off. 

He could imagine it. The feeling of that tender and somehow gripping flesh hugging him tightly as he moved forward more…. And pulled out. His glands would catch, wouldn’t it hurt you then? Wouldn’t he be scraping your delicate insides?

Alastor began pressing further in. Your hands gripped the sheets slightly, your walls were pushed open by his now steel hard member and you could feel a pool of heat low in your womb. You needed him to hit it, to thrust forward and rut against your cervix. But you had to take it slow, this was about him answering his questions first and foremost. 

“It won’t go any further…” he leaned back and inspected the situation. Two inches or so remained out in the cold. 

You shifted your hips and could feel the resistance. “If you start,” you needed a second to gather yourself before saying the rest, “thrusting properly now you’ll be able to get the rest in soon.”

His brow cocked. 

He’d have to trust you on that one and simply keep going. There were still more ways to move within you, to see if the piercing friction really could make you feel good. A moan broke through his defenses when he pulled out until the glands of his cock felt caught on your entrance. 

Alastor’s body crumpled, the pleasure made his muscles go weak. It was as if he couldn’t control them at all. Dangerous. 

His hips bucked from the sensitivity, thrusting forward. Alastor’s head fell back with a sharp gasp. Before he could worry over how he looked his hips were starting a shaky and mistimed pace. Head falling forward again so he could look down at where you were joined, he groaned. His cock was disappearing, girth holding your cunt open as it clamped down against him.  

Alastor felt dizzy from the physical rapture and a helpful redirection of blood. His body was light; bright and weightless.

What a treacherous sensation. He could almost understand rakes* now. 

Your first real moan reminded him why he was doing what he was. Face shooting up from the shadow of his hair he watched yours. Your brow was furrowed slightly, but apart from how hard you were biting your bottom lip he didnt see anything pained in your expression. Your sounds definitely did not say you were being harmed in any way. 

As his cock pulled against your entrance again and rammed back in, he gained new ground just like you’d assured. Another hungry thrust and he was flush with your body. You choked out a noise and gripped the sheets hard. 

“Painful?,” he opted for a single word to avoid his voice cracking with uncontrolled radio static. Alastor slowed his pace out of caution, he enjoyed pain but not like this. He’d only been trying to shock you earlier with his comments when he said otherwise. 

Your hips rolled, pressing him deeper and rolling your eyes back. It earned you a flipping of radio stations softly in the air around you. A babbled, “No, no,” before you could find the sense to look at him, “You’re doing so well. It feels so good. Don’t stop.” Another roll of your body to feel his leaking slit digging into your cervix. That white hot pleasure was fading now to something less mind numbing but still worth chasing. He had you split open down the center and you needed to feel him moving deep within.  

‘Well, Fuck,’ Alastor thought. The mechanics didn’t make much sense but he was seeing undeniable proof. He shifted his hips until his lower stomach was pressing down onto you and let his own normally unwanted instincts take over. You asked him to not stop, after all. 

Fluidly now he could fuck you, lower back activated and driving himself home deeper. Soon he was grunting softly each time he bottomed out. Animalistic auto-pilot kept his pace even and punishing. 

A slurred ‘feels s’good’ tumbled from your still parted lips. 

He watched your neck muscles strain and face redden, you were holding your breath and he couldnt understand why. 

Eyes slipping closed he focused on your warmth, and he could hear the sound of his skin sticking and popping free from your core. A faint wetness to his thighs came into focus from the fuzzy edges of his mind. He felt like he was melting from the center outward. 

Alastor failed to say anything when his climax mounted because it blindsided him. He leaned back for leverage and held your thighs for grip. A few harsh slaps of his skin into yours, your body rocking up slightly with the force before you felt his own warm wetness filling you. A sensation that came in waves with each twitch of his cock. When his body stuttered and a few more thrusts chased his semen deeper into you, your feet kicked out in an uncontrollable spasm of pleasure. 

You took in a deep breath and pulled him closer with your legs as soon as you regained control. Alastor’s turn to fist the sheets, you working your thighs and core to ride him from your place on your back. A few more sharp inhales, pressure mounting to a daunting peak before you could make that string snap. It took a frenzied self fucking with Alastor’s now oversensitive cock but you managed to find some relief with a small orgasm.

Alastor didn’t need you to announce it for him to understand. A modest wave of embarrassment hit, not only was he woefully incorrect but the pleasure was apparently so great you’d chase more friction to reach your orgasm on a cock before just taking your own hand. Was it impolite to not have offered to help?

Your body went slack, muscles disengaging as your sweaty thighs and ass slid from his lap and down his legs. He was still bent over you and cock buried half in you, catching his breath.

“I suppose I should eat crow now. Your little flower is far more accommodating than I gave you credit for!” He pulled out in one go and you felt the rush of his seed spilling out after him. “Though you must admit there was a little discomfort.”

With a heavy sigh you nodded, “Sometimes a little bit makes it feel even better…” a swoosh and a twinkle was heard just past your knees but you didn't move to open your eyes.

A clawed finger booped your nose, “If you value your afterlife…”

A sharp stare to the fully dressed and unsticky radio demon knelt between your legs, you rolled your eyes at the empty threat he always gave you after your unfettered talks, “I won't tell a soul.”

“Good girl!”

*a rake is a rakehell (hell raiser), considered loose with morals for chasing women and drink.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖  ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei ,  @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk  , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf ,  @fizzled-phoenix   , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment, @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk   , @bontensbabygirl  @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog  , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[bratbarzal]

Let It Happen (LH43) 3/3

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 17k

>PART ONE< / >PART TWO<

I'll spare you from everything, if you would still have me, I'll be waiting all my life

General Warnings: pining and longing and fluff galore!!! I think maybe sexual references but who remembers atp. angst (slut shaming, mentions of past relationships and I can't think of a better way to say daddy issues we've all been there)

A/N: we did it, Joe!!!! desktop tumblr really didn't want this to happen!!! I can't believe I finished this!! thank you guys so much for reading, and liking, and messaging me and reblogging and all the commentary, and all the love!!! I appreciate it so much!!

if there is a crossover of readers of on your side and readers of this fic (first of all ily) there is a little oys easter egg in here!! did I think through the logistics of this being set in the same universe? no. did I have fun anyway? yes. I fell in love with writing Luke in that fic so it was only right for me to add it in here!!

Happy New Year to everyone, thank you for reading my work!! 2024 was the year I finally plucked up the courage to write all my random thoughts down and the fact that it spiralled into this blows my mind a bit, but I'm grateful to be here!!

You can distinctly remember the first time you had properly taken notice of Luke Hughes, and it wasn’t back in the restaurant at the club like he probably thinks.

It had been early November, in your freshman year.

Ellie had finally convinced you to join her at one of the games at Yost, and you were bundled up in a coat two sizes too big, the only thing you had remotely close to team colours, and the only thing likely to keep you warm enough to tolerate a whole game and warm-ups.

You were watching the boys skate around, and he had caught your eye in an instant. 

“Who’s that one?” You had asked, pointing down to where number 43 was reaching out awkwardly to sweep up pucks with his stick. You could see the soft brown curls peaking out the back of his helmet from all the way in the stands, and his height made it unmistakable to realise that you recognised him.

He had come up to you at a Halloween party the week before, and if you hadn’t been so preoccupied by the fact that your only-just-ex boyfriend at the time was in the same room, his tongue down another girl’s throat, you might have been endeared by the boy in the dog costume. 

Friendly smile, boyishly handsome features and warm eyes that under any other circumstances might have made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t the first time you had seen him - you vaguely remembered the gift basket, and you knew he was in a couple of your classes, but you had never really spared him more than a fleeting glance before that party. 

As soon as he had noticed your teary eyes upon approach, his demeanour had changed in an instant, and where anyone else might have backed off, might have been uncomfortable or deterred, done a u-turn and given up on his mission to approach, his expression had softened - worried and caring in a way that made your throat go dry, and you had to dash off to the nearest bathroom to splash your tears away.

“That’s Luke,” Ellie had told you, “Luke Hughes, Jack’s brother.”

“Oh,” You had pouted, disappointed. Jack had made it painfully obvious that he wasn’t your biggest fan the first time you had met him, and if you’re honest, you were hardly a great admirer of his, either. 

Ellie had noticed your expression, had nudged you with her elbow until you took your eyes off of the figure on the ice, and had narrowed her eyes right at you. “Why?”

“He’s in a couple of my classes, is all,” you shrugged, eyes travelling back and finding him in an instant.

“Luke’s cool. You’d eat him alive, though, probably get bored within a week.”

“I wasn’t thinking about him like that,” you frowned, watching him skate around the ice with the grace and enthusiasm of a clumsy puppy dog. Cute. “Just curious.”

“He’s waaaay too nice for you,” she scoffed, and you had tried to swallow down the pang of offence you had felt, knowing she had very little of your past to compare him to. The two of you had only been roommates for a couple of months at that point, and she had only ever seen you interested in your ex. “He’s also kind of a like a little brother to me. Dorky and annoying, but I’m very protective of him.”

You had bit your tongue at how patronising that had sounded, knowing Ellie was one of the youngest people of your freshman class - a July baby - and Luke might even have been older than her. 

“Like I said, just curious.”

You had noticed Luke a lot more after that, though.

A quiet, recurring presence.

A seat behind you in business comms, a figure against the wall in the corner of the room at different parties, on posters that lined the walls and the perimeter of Yost Arena, in articles you edited for extra credit in the Michigan Daily. 

You had even made small efforts to get him to talk to you - never being the type to make the first move, yourself - started talking to his friends, some of the guys on the hockey team, had made sure his name was on the list for your sorority parties, you’d even dropped your pen once in class, and he’d just handed it back over with a soft smile, never uttering a word.

You wouldn’t call it a crush, but it was somewhere around the borderline of that - especially looking back after the summer you shared with him.

And you think, in retrospect, that if he’d have ever made a move, would have spoken to you even just once after the incident at the Halloween party, you probably would have developed one.

You hate to admit it, now, but he had been right all those weeks ago in the restaurant. 

He’s kind of inevitable like that.

By the time he disappeared in your sophomore year that little spark of something had mostly fizzled out, but it didn’t entirely stop you unintentionally keeping tabs. Stats that cropped up on the sports channels, articles in the paper, posts on your instagram feed.

And you don’t know what you would call it, the way he kind of stuck with you, but when you’d seen him in that booth in the beginning of summer - when he’d spoken to you in full sentences, had met your eye and held contact in a way that sucked you in like a vacuum - you kind of felt that spark reignite.

The boy you almost, kind of, could have known, once upon a time, finally making the effort to get to know you.

And Luke Hughes is persistent. You have a detached admiration for just how much. He pushes, and he presses, and he perseveres until all your resolve is gone - resolve you’ve spent years mastering, with quick wit and snark protecting your heart from anyone who dares to take aim for it.

But that detachment is waining. 

Especially as you lay on your front on your childhood bed, the NHL awards playing on the TV in your room back at your mom’s house, and you try to busy your hands with the crotchet kit you had picked up from the mall before you came home for a couple of days. 

Your admiration is blooming and blossoming in the depths of your stomach into something intricate and uncontrollable. 

And it has nothing to do with his name, his career, the award he is nominated for.

It’s just him. 

Larger than life on your TV screen, but it still doesn’t capture him in his entirety, and you think for the first time that you miss him. You miss movies in his bed, you miss watching him from the passenger seat of his BMW, the sun shining from the window beside him, illuminating his profile until you burn from the glare. You miss his stupid jokes and his teasing smiles, and you miss the warmth in your cheeks when he looks your way.   

And it’s only been like 2 days.

You miss Luke Hughes.

You kind of think you missed him before he even left.

You might have even missed him before you knew him, but that would be crazy, right?

Maybe he makes you crazy.

Maybe you need this week to recuperate, to attempt to build those walls back up before they’re damaged beyond repair. 

Luke hadn’t given much thought to missing you before he and his brothers left for Vegas. He’d been so caught up, internally, about his and Quinn’s nominations, that he had thought it would continue to distract him the whole time they had been out there, but boy was he wrong.

All he remembers about his trip is thinking of you, and when the boys got back, and you had been visiting your mom for the weekend, all he could do was think of you more.

He thought of you when they sat at the table for dinner, and your place across from his was empty. He thought of you when he watched movies alone, thought of texting you some sort of commentary as he worked his way through the list of rom-coms you had given him, but you hadn’t texted him yet, so he gave up quickly on that idea.

He thought of you in bed, thought of the last time the two of you had been in there, together, and if he’s honest, he thinks of that almost all the time. Of messy kisses, wandering hands, and connection so deep he doesn’t think it will ever fizzle out. 

And when he finally sees you again, he thinks he might have to get Quinn to source some sort of defibrillator for the house, because he swears his heart stops beating.

You poke your head into his bedroom, a shy smile on your face, and your bag is still on your shoulder, which means he had been your first stop, before you’d even gone to drop your things in yours and Ellie’s room. 

He sees you in the reflection of his mirror, and turns immediately, clumsy fingers releasing the tie he’s been struggling to get right for a couple minutes, and steps toward you before he can even begin to tell himself not to seem so eager.

“You’re back!” He grins, and when your face lights up in return, he can hardly find it in himself to care anymore how down bad he comes across.

“Yeah,” you breathe, stepping into the room, discarding your bag by the door and shuffling toward him. “You didn’t have get all dolled up for my return.”

You reach to take both sides of the tie into your hands, and he feels himself go warm all over at the mere proximity of you after so long apart. 

“It’s my cousin’s wedding,” he tells you as you start to knot the tie, knuckles brushing slightly across his chest until he’s holding his breath, lungs expanding so that he feels your touch a little more. “They’re having their reception at the club, later, you should come down.”

“You’re asking me to your cousin’s wedding?”

“Not like that,” he chuckles nervously as he looks down at you, eyes focused on the task at hand. “Just, haven’t seen you in a week, wouldn’t want to leave you here alone, it could be fun.”

Not to mention the fact he’s been watching the door for the past two days while he’s been home, waiting for you to get back and hoping it would be before the event, and he could figure out some way to ask you.

“You can’t just invite a random person to your cousin’s wedding reception, Luke.”

“She said I could!” He reasons, frowning when you raise a brow at him. “Not a random person, she said I could bring a friend.” He grasps gently at your hands as they straighten the fabric, halting your movements. “We’re friends, right?”

“If you say so.”

That wasn’t a no, he thinks, courage building within him in such a way that he starts to buzz with it. That would definitely have been a flat out no, before.

“You’d be doing me a favour.” He bargains, still holding your hands against his chest. “Quinn and Jack are bringing Josh and Turcs, I’d be like a fifth wheel,”

“So what you’re telling me is that you have no other friends?”

“Sure, if that’s what tugs at your heartstrings.” He has plenty of friends he could ask. Eddy, Duker, Luca - they’re all in town. None of them would look as pretty in a dress as you would, though. He wants to say there’s no chance of any of them kissing him after a few cocktails, but that would probably be a lie. “C’mon, they’re not gonna be checking IDs at the bar,” he wiggles his eyebrows in an attempt to convince you, “The free bar.”

“I don’t have anything to wear to a wedding,”

“What about that blue dress you wore to the formal last year?”

He remembers his throat going dry at just a picture - frosty baby blue silk against glowing skin, hair falling past your shoulders, the prettiest smile he’s ever seen in every photo.

And that is where misplaced courage gets him, he thinks. Letting slip that he has been creeping on your Instagram like some deranged stalker, because where else would he have seen you in that dress? He’d been in Jersey, by then. Scrolling down his timeline and swiping at every photo dump in what he didn’t even realise at the time was an obvious attempt to catch a glimpse of you.

Idiot.

“That was Ellie’s dress. I think she gave it to the Goodwill or something.” You frown, barely even picking up on his slip - unaware to the point that his heart rate can level back out to normalcy.

“You’ve got time to go shopping, you could get another,” he shrugs, reaching into the pocket of his pants. “Here, take my card.”

“Gee, thanks, Daddy Warbucks,” you push at his hand when he attempts to give it to you.

“I’m not adopting you. I’m more like Richard Gere in Pretty Woman.”

“Are you implying I’m a prostitute?”

“No,” he scoffs, only because, unintentionally, he totally was, and now he can’t get the picture out of his head - you in thigh high boots, legs for days stood out of the blue skirt, and the white top with the cutouts, soft summer skin he’s been missing the touch of peaking through - and he starts to wonder if that would be too much too soon to ask of you; to dress up for him like that. Maybe for halloween, if the two of you have progressed past whatever this is, by then. Keep dreaming, Hughes, he can already hear you saying. “More like a sugar baby.”

“I don’t need your money.”

“I’m trying to do something nice for you.”

“You don’t have to buy me things for me to like you.” You pout, and his own lips curl up at your defensiveness - so eager to prove yourself to him over something he isn’t even actually pressing. 

“Because you like me already?” He can’t help himself, a small voice in the back of his mind telling him to push, push, push at your buttons until you practically malfunction - craving you in whatever disoriented state it was that he had seen you in last, pliant and willing and crumbling so nicely for him to scoop up and piece back together.

He shouldn’t want that - want to have to hold you in place, that is, not really - but he does. He wants to be the one that gets you like that. The only one. 

“What time’s the reception?”

That should also have been a flat out no.

Interesting.

You give in so easily, then, to the point where Luke gets giddy, letting you know when and where he wants you - always and anywhere, if he’s honest - and you roll your eyes as you agree, but you stay right in front of him long after you’ve finished with his tie, and he’s so tempted to kiss you that he’s buzzing with excitement. 

He sneaks a kiss to the corner of your mouth - quick enough that you don’t push him away, or make any sort of comment about it, and darts down the stairs at Quinn’s calls for him, leaving you to figure out whatever it is you need to do to be ready for later.

And he thanks his lucky stars that later comes before he has the chance to really dwell on it. His day passes in a blur, the ceremony over in a flash, family photos taken before he even realises he doesn’t need to force a cheesy smile, and only brief moments spared over the course of the early afternoon to think about the things he’s lacking.

As he sits in the church between his brothers, he realises that he wants to be sitting with an arm slung around you and a hand in your lap - your fingers swirling absentminded shapes into his palm as the two of you watch the ceremony side by side. Wants to look down at you staring up the aisle in bewilderment, a soft flush to your cheeks, a dopey grin on your face and a far-off look in your eyes. Wants to mutter stupid jokes in your ear and watch you twist your lips to bite back a giveaway smile. 

As he rides over to the club in the back of Quinn’s car, sandwiched between Alex and Josh with his brothers up front, he thinks he’d kill to have you in his lap - as illegal as that may be, but it’s only 5 minutes, and he’d make sure you were safe with an arm curled around your waist.

And when he’s waiting in the reception hall at the club, the late afternoon ticking into early evening, hearing speeches about falling in love and finding your person, he wants you in the seat beside him. Wants to rest his arm on the back of your chair, play with loose strands of your hair or stroke soft fingertips against your warm skin, and press gentle kisses into your temple.

It’s alarming how quick these thoughts consume him - his college years spent pining, his summer spent basking in whatever attention you choose to give him - and he can’t help but let himself be carried away with the hope of it all, that maybe he is wearing you down enough to give in to such thoughts.

Especially when he sees you walking in, and he swears the world has started moving in slow motion like a scene fresh out of one of those rom-coms you keep trying to subject him to.

His legs stretch without any instruction from his brain, pushing himself up onto his feet until he can make his way over and meet you halfway.

Your eyes light up and your hand lifts in a nervous wave as you start heading straight for him, the action causing the thin spaghetti strap of your dress to fall down your shoulder. 

“Hey,” he breathes out, in what feels like relief, mouth breaking out into a dreamy grin until you’re right in front of him.

“Sorry I’m a little late, it took me forever to find a dress, and then my hair wouldn’t go right, and then the Uber took every back road known to man despite me literally telling him,” Luke reaches to readjust the fallen strap as you talk, fingers trailing ever so slightly against the soft skin of your shoulder, “That I knew a quicker way, and then we ended up at those lights over on Palmer for like 10 minutes, I think I was in that car so long I’m all crinkly.”

His eyes drop slowly down your figure, the silky fabric clinging to your curves in all the right spots, the soft yellow a perfect match to the tie around his neck. “You’re beautiful,” he reassures you with ease, cheeks flushing ever so slightly when your eyes meet his - but he’s used to that, by now, the way his head goes hot when you look at him. “I was gonna get a drink, do you want one?”

He extends his hand out to you in invitation before you even nod in response, and when your fingers slide between his, the heat that is swirling around his head and face starts to spread down, past his neck, into his chest, settling there as the two of you make your way over to the bar. 

This last week without you has been hell.

Sat in his hotel room in Vegas, checking his phone for any sort of update - a text, an instagram post, a story - and wondering if that night before he had left had been playing on your mind the same way it had on his. 

Soft, slow kisses pressed into reciprocated lips, hands memorising every inch of each other’s bodies, desperate but intentional movements into one another. It was hardly his first time, but God, had it felt like it. It was definitely the first time he had ever felt anything that deep for another person - felt so connected, so attached.

And, despite the lingering insecurity that he thinks he might always feel when it comes to you, he knew you felt the same.

You had told him in the simplest terms - you wanted him - but you had shown him so much more. Eyes stuck on his as he moved against you, foreheads pressed together, lips seeking his at every given opportunity, nails scratching at the broad expanse of his shoulders when he had taken the lead and flipped the two of you over. 

Gasps and moans, pleading and pining, begging and singing for him as you came undone for the first, second and third time. 

He doesn’t know how you can possibly even try to carry on pretending you don’t feel even an ounce of the infatuation he does.

Not when you look at him the way you do, eyes sparkling and wanting. Not when he had spent the past week pressing his fingertips into the bruises you had kissed again into the lowest part his stomach like that had become your spot, hoping he could aggravate them enough to linger until you could make some more. 

Not when, even though the two of you have been stood at the bar now for a good few minutes, you haven’t made any efforts to take your fingers from where his are playing with them between the two of you.

“You never answered my question, earlier,” he hums as the two of you wait for your drinks.

“You talk so much, Hughes, you’re gonna have to remind me which question that was.” 

“Did you miss me?” His head tilts with curiosity as he watches the hesitation cross your features, lashes fluttering as you look up at him with your lips pressed together to keep them from spluttering out the truth. “I missed you.” He admits, in the hopes that expressing his candour might elicit the same in you.

“I’m surprised you found the time, you looked very occupied on your brothers’ stories.” Bingo.

“You been keeping tabs on me?” The smirk that accompanies the question is instinctual, and he manages to catch the slight shift in your demeanour before you can retreat, closing his fingers around your hand before you can pull it away. 

“No,” you scoff, and when you pull insistently for him to release your hand, the strap of your dress falls loose down your arm again, Luke’s eyes following before he fixes it for you once more. “Just stumbled across some pictures, I guess,”

“Yeah, you just tripped and fell into stalking me?”

“Don’t act like you weren’t doing the same, I saw those little 3 dots come up so often I was starting to think you were typing up the entirety of War and Peace.”

Which means you’d been lingering in your message thread with him, too. Gotcha.

“You know, the world won’t end if you just admit you missed me.”

“Fine.” It slips out before you know what you’re saying, eyes widening like a deer in the headlights as you realise you’ve already given in. “I missed you.”

He smiles, but doesn’t press, and it’s a smile that lingers as the two of you just look at each other, his eyes drifting down to watch your lips twist and press together, biting back whatever insult or chirp you’re just dying to throw his way to cover up. He waits for it to come, but loves that it doesn’t, and loves even more that you’re holding onto the moment as much as he is. 

“Do you wanna dance?” Luke asks a while later, once the two of you have gulped down a couple of drinks, have sat with the others for a little, and he’s watched you watch the dance floor with a yearning gaze.

Your eyes meet his after he poses the question, a confidence in his demeanour that has you crumbling immediately.

You nod, allowing him to guide you over to where a few other couples are swaying on the dance floor, and you let him guide you into his arms, one hand in his and the other resting on his shoulder. 

It should be awkward, you think, remembering back on all the times you’ve tried this before. School dances and proms, clumsily shuffling and trying to avoid being stomped on by your partner’s feet - but the two of you move with ease, and you’d like to think it’s because his body knows yours by now.

“This is so weird,” you mutter, eyes cast down to watch his feet move in his fancy Oxford shoes, a soft flush to your cheeks.

“What do you mean?” He asks, nerves heightening as he stiffens like he’s waiting for you to let him go - to step away and cut this short like it doesn’t make you feel the same way. 

“Slow dancing is for old folk like war veterans and millennials.” Your lips twist as your eyes meet his, and his lips turn up into a slow smile, a deep, melodic chuckle following closely behind.

“If you’d rather bump’n'grind on me, I get it,” he smirks.

“You’re such an idiot,” you scoff back, twitching to shake the hair from your shoulder, assuming that’s what is causing the shivers currently shooting down your spine, and not the large, possessive hand resting in the dip of your waist. 

“Y’know, I’ve realised something about you lately,” he starts, voice low as he leans in, angling into your exposed neck and stopping his lips within mere inches of your ear, “You have a tell.”

“A tell?” You turn, brow raised as your gaze meets his, faces close enough that you can feel the soft pants of his breath on your skin.

“For when you’re enjoying yourself more than you think you should be,” he hums, his eyes fluttering a little as they drop to watch your mouth, the swipe of your tongue wetting your lower lip. “You call me an idiot,” his hand on your waist squeezes ever so slightly, your back arching a little into his touch, “Or stupid,” he uses his other hand, the one clutching at yours, to pull you closer, “Or dumb, or a dork.”

You can feel your heart thudding at the call-out, beating in time to the music, in time to the way your bodies sway together, creating it’s own rhythm for the two of you to dance to. 

“Maybe you’re just a stupid, dumb, dorky idiot.” You squeak out, immediately hating the way the words taste in your mouth, your face souring and eyes narrowing in deliberation. There’s no way that was at all convincing, and the smirk that tugs up his lips is all you need to know he sees right through you.

“Maybe,” he humours you, anyway. “And yet, you can’t get enough of me.”

“A smug dorky idiot.” You correct yourself, cutting out stupid and dumb, the sharpness of those words cutting at your tongue like a knife. 

The pointlessness of such discussion almost waters down the exhilaration you feel at being this close to him, in public, nonetheless, where literally anyone else could call you out on your growing tolerance of Luke, could connect the dots regarding all the time the two of you have been spending together and wave the evidence of your growing affection like a chequered flag for all to see.

This definitely feels like you’re crossing the finish line.

And, of course, it’s Jack who does the honours, primed all night to find some way to get between you and Luke upon your arrival, stumbling up to the two of you at the end of the song you’re swaying to and laying a heavy palm on your shoulder.

“Isn’t this cosy?” 

“Fuck off, Jack,” Luke scowls before you get the chance, a pointed glare directed towards his brother, the palming grip at your waist growing faint as you try to wedge a little distance between the two of you, fighting a losing battle with your instinct to run and hide. 

“I need to talk to your girlfriend.”

“I’m not his-,”

“She’s not my-,”

The two of you speak simultaneously, and despite the fact that you were saying the exact same thing, him saying it kind of dampens your mood, putting a good couple of steps between you and Luke with your arms crossing over your chest as you look toward his brother. 

“Whatever. Can I borrow her for a couple minutes?”

“I’m not property, Jack, you can ask me directly.”

“Please can we talk? Alone?”

“Let’s go outside,” you huff, storming off before he has the chance to say anything else and making it all the way outside before he speaks again. 

“Sorry for interrupting, you and Luke looked kind of cute-,”

“What do you want?”

“I’m sorry I said you were messing him around, and that you were toxic.” 

You frown at him, watching as he diverts his gaze to the ground, nervously shuffling on his feet and fingers fidgeting with the cuffs on his shirt. 

“I’m sorry for all the things I said and did at that party, I didn’t mean them, I was just drunk and upset. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

You chew nervously on the inside of your cheeks as he talks, arms wrapped around yourself to shield from the brisk night air, and you watch as Jack starts to unravel before your very eyes.

For as long as you’ve known Ellie, for as long as you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him as anything less than cool, calm and collected - it’s kind of the main thing that grinds your gears about him if your honest, the fact that he never seems real. Like he’s putting on some sort of persona to seem like he has all his shit together, when you know he doesn’t.

“I really like Ellie, you know,” he sighs, and you scoff, because of course you know that. “And I was blaming you for putting this wedge between us when it’s really me that’s been fucking up.” You know that, too. “I’ve been thinking about her this past week, and I really wanna pull myself together and finally do something about it. Stop being such an idiot.”

You bite your tongue from questioning the reality of that. He’ll always be an idiot, you think, but that’s best left unspoken. It’s not even personal to him, that’s just part of being a man.

“She likes you too,” You tell him instead, despite the fact that it goes against all sorts of girl code to do so. You’re doing them both a favour, and the universe should really just let you off, you feel. “I don’t know why either of you have wasted so much time when you’ve both felt the same way all along.”

“You really think she’d say yes if I asked her out?”

“I do,” you shrug, “And it doesn’t need to be done on some romantic boat trip or some crazy elaborate scheme, you should just ask her when she gets back next week. Like as soon as she comes through the door, it will save us all a headache.”

“You sound like Luke.”

“Yeah, well, he’s rubbing off on me, I guess.”

“I don’t need to hear what the two of you get up to when you’re alone, that’s my little brother.”

You reach over and shove at his arm, and for the first time ever, when your eyes meet his, neither of them are narrowed. He’s smiling, and you’re smiling too, and it feels a little like a weight has been lifted from your chest, fresh air filling your lungs.

“Let’s go back inside, Luke’s probably thinking we’ve killed each other.”

“I’m just gonna take a second, it’s kinda stuffy in there.”

Jack nods, before making his way back to the reception, and you make your way over to the fountain, heels working through the gravel until you take a seat on the side. 

It’s a couple of minutes before you hear footsteps, and before you see the fancy oxfords come into your view, eyes roaming up the long, lean body of the boy who has your brain running marathons.   

When your eyes meet, his gaze is warm, and it feels like he can see right through you. Like he’s looking into the depths of your mind, holding a big cheesy sign as he waits at the finish line for your thoughts to come to an end.

He sits wordlessly beside you, his knees knocking against yours, and waits for you to speak - although the silence doesn’t feel awkward, or forced. He waits, patiently and understandingly, and you feel like he’s giving you the time to figure out what you want to say. 

It feels monumental, this moment, like you’re teetering on the edge of something real and honest for the first time in a while.

“The other week, when we,” your voice feels heavy, thick at the back of your throat, “You know,”

“I was strictly advised to forget about it, so no, I don’t know,” he teases, and you’re kind of thankful that he’s trying to ease the tension you’re building for yourself. “But if you wanna jog my memory.” You shove lightly at his shoulder. “I’m kidding. What about it?”

“I’ve never really done that before?”

“What, snuck a guy up to his room in the middle of a house party and rocked his world?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You scoff, smiling to yourself, despite the weight of all that you’re about to admit to him. “I’ve only ever slept with one other guy, and he wasn’t very nice about it after, so I just,” you frown, “Don’t really do it.”

“You don’t-,” he frowns too, you can see it from your peripheral, eyes till on the hands fidgeting in your lap, “But I thought-,” You look over and meet his eyes, brows furrowed and lips parted in confusion. “What?”

“The first guy, Jamie,” you start, twisting to face him, knees knocking once more. “We started talking in the summer before my freshman year, got to know each other ‘cause he lived one town over from me and he’d come into work all the time, and then when I started college he was a sophomore, and he was the first guy to ever take, like, a serious interest in me. And we had a lot in common, he was on the soccer team, we grew up in the same area, we got on really well, it was the first time I ever really felt connected to anyone like that. But I’d never done anything before, so I wanted to take things slow,”

Jamie Reeves. Captain of the University of Michigan Soccer Team until he tore his ACL at the end of his last year, ruining all dreams of playing in the MLS, like it was entirely achievable for a player of his caliber anyway. You had been infatuated by him, though. The kind of infatuation that a younger you might have doodled little hearts around his name in all your notebooks.

And then he turned out to be a complete leech.

“Please don’t tell me he rushed you into it.” Luke straightens his posture, reaching to place his hand over yours in your lap, the touch immediately comforting, and his concern even more so.

“No. Not exactly.” You sigh, hating how dramatic you feel about the whole thing. “We went on dates, and things were going really well, so I figured I trusted him enough to be my first, then after we had sex he just went really off. He wouldn’t take me out anymore, wasn’t putting any effort in. And then people started asking me all these questions about him, and what we did, and I realised he was going around telling everyone all the details, like I was just some conquest he could tick off to the boys on the team.” You remember how ashamed you had felt, eyes on you in every corridor, whispers about you in every class. You couldn’t leave your dorm without someone muttering some obscene comment about you, and you just felt awful. “Every time one of them saw me they’d make all these dumb comments, and I just felt dirty all the time, like I’d done something wrong. Then I went to a party at Pike, the one at Halloween,” The party that Luke had approached you for the first time since you met, and you had stormed off in tears - not due to him at all, but due to the fact you had just seen Jamie sticking his tongue down someone else’s throat, mere days after you had seen him last. “And he was all over one of the girls on the field hockey team, didn’t even look my way again after that, not that I really wanted him to.”

“You haven’t been with anyone since?”

You shake your head. “Doesn’t stop people saying I have, though. I tried dating a couple times, but it always ended up the same way, rumours being spread about me sleeping around and being easy. And it’s so dumb, ‘cause it’s like I trusted one guy, and somehow it keeps backfiring on me.” You pay no mind, for the first time in a long time, to the crack in your voice as you say it, no longer afraid of showing any hint of vulnerability. Not to Luke. You need to get this out - get it out of the way, once and for all, so you can move past it. Move on, even, with someone you hope won’t treat you the same.

“Does that mean you trusted me?” 

You try not to think too hard about all the times the two of you have shared any level of intimacy - the physical touch mostly initiated by you, and it’s hardly ever on a whim. You think a lot about Luke, if you’re honest. About how he’s honest, and he sticks by his word when he promises not to tell anyone anything. How he always tries to make you laugh or smile, even if it’s something stupid. He isn’t afraid to embarrass himself with you, isn’t afraid to give you power, to let you take the lead. And even though sometimes he jokes otherwise, the times you hang out, he has no ulterior motives. He likes talking to you, likes watching movies with you, likes meeting your eye in a crowded room and giving you one of those smiles that have started to make your heart stutter with something unidentifiable.

“I guess so.” Your shoulder lifts in a nonchalant shrug, your words anything, but. “I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about it since and I can’t explain why it happened but I feel like you and me are-,” 

Connected? Compatible?

You know what he would say you are. You don’t know if you’re there, yet.There are so many things the two of you have become over the past few weeks, so many things you’ve wanted to be for longer than you even realised, so many things you’re afraid to say.

“I feel like out of everyone, you’d have no reason to lie to me. Or about me.”

“I wouldn’t. I didn’t know all that stuff,” he frowns, and it seems like his mind only just makes sense of all the times you threatened him after the fact, making sure he wouldn’t tell anyone that the two of you kissed, or hung out alone in an intimate space and maybe potentially enjoyed yourselves. He had thought you were ashamed of it - but all this time, you’ve been protective. Of yourself, of the trust you were building in him. “Why don’t you tell people, that those guys are all lying?”

“No one would believe me,” you shrug, eyes cast down to where his hand still rests on yours, and his touch prevents you from picking nervously at the skin around your nails.

“I do,” He assures you, “And I promise the next time I hear anyone say any of that stuff about you, I’ll beat their face in.”

“Yeah, you’d drop gloves for me?”

“Look at you with your hockey talk.” He coos, lifting a hand to caress your cheek, where you had barely noticed a tear trailing down until he wipes it away with his thumb, a proud smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. I would. We’re partners, remember? I’ve got your back.” He extends his pinkie out to you, and you curl yours around it until he’s tugging it toward him, leaning down to press his lips to your knuckle, his kiss like a promise as his green eyes meet yours. 

It doesn’t gross you out, this time. If you’re honest with yourself, it hadn’t the first time he did it, either. It was cute, in an entirely dorky and childish and almost nostalgic way.

And you’re compelled to do the same, leaning and touching your pouted lips to his pinky, eyes fluttering closed as you kiss his skin, the rush of blood to your head somehow louder than the steady stream of the fountain beside you. 

“Listen,” he starts, lowering his hand but keeping your pinkies interlocked, resting them between you both on the stone. “If whatever this is that we’re doing makes you uncomfortable, or brings all that stuff back, I can back off a little.”

Something akin to disappointment floods through your system, your heart rate picking up in a panicked staccato, but you try to stay cool - still, for whatever reason, holding your cards close to your chest. 

“I can make sure my brothers don’t make any more stupid comments about us, they’re doing it to annoy me, not you. And I can,” he takes a deep breath, eyes flickering between yours as if to gauge your desires before he has to reluctantly pander to them. “I can stop, too.”

You nod, because it’s all you can do to shake away the tears threatening to flood your lash line at just the thought of him giving up on you. 

It’s the lump in your throat that blocks the words coming out to tell him as much, and your lips twist in discomfort as you take in the way he’s looking at you - gaze filled with dwindling patience and waining resilience. There’s only so far you can continue to push him, you can see that now, and if you’d have told the version of yourself that first sat down with him all those weeks ago - the version of yourself that refuted any chance of ever warming up to him, that saw him as nothing more than an annoyance, a disturbance to your tips for the day - that the thought of him stopping whatever you have would make you feel like this?

That cold-hearted bitch would have laughed in your face. 

“Hey, lovebirds!” There’s a shout from across the courtyard, and Quinn  appears in the distance with hands cupped around his mouth. The intrusion has you retracting your hand, and you can see the way Luke reacts in your peripheral, a resigned nod given instinctually before he looks over to his brother. “I’m driving home if you two want a ride!”

Luke doesn’t look back at you before pushing himself up, but he offers a hand to help you stand, and the two of you walk in silence to meet Quinn by the exit.

The car ride back to the house is silent, too, save for the soft hum of the radio that filters through the car. Josh sits up front with Quinn, head lulling against the window as he falls asleep worryingly quick, and you’re squished in the middle between Luke and Alex, Jack having stayed back with their parents. It’s hard not to press your legs against Luke’s - his are so gangly and long that they take up more than their fair share of room, and it’s much less awkward despite the circumstances to be touching him than touching Turcs. You feel a lot less tense when you’re touching, anyway. 

And when Quinn pulls up, Luke still helps you out of the car - ever the gentleman, even in the face of apparent rejection.

Quinn and Alex work at lugging an overly inebriated Josh up to his room, leaving Luke to guide you through the house, and the silence starts to become unbearable as he whispers a quick and quiet goodnight, leaving you at the door to yours and Ellie’s room as he makes his way down the hall.

“Hey, Luke,” you call out in a whisper toward him as he retreats, his tall frame turning, a gleam of what you interpret as hope flashing across his green eyes.

“Yeah?” He hums back, voice low as not to disturb anyone else, gaze meeting yours, locking in place with an almost audible click.

“I don’t want you to stop.”

You’re worried for a second you’ll have to expand, that maybe his slightly intoxicated memory doesn’t stretch as far back as to remember the conversation the two of you had had out by the fountain. 

Elaborating on it would be embarrassing to say the least - because what, exactly, are you supposed to say?

I don’t want you to stop flirting with me.

I don’t want you to stop kissing me when no one else is around.

I don’t want you to stop being the only person I can talk to.

I don’t want you to stop bulldozing into my very secure and sturdy walls, thank you very much. They’re starting to tumble down in what could be a very calamitous fashion.

Worried you might have to expose a little more of yourself than you had originally anticipated, you chew at the corner of your lip, waiting.

But then he smiles - in that easy way that makes your bones feel like jelly, your knees weakening to the point that you lean against the still-closed door of your room. In the way that has that loudmouth voice you’re trying too often to suppress within you screaming, God, he’s so cute!

“I know,” he smirks, the bastard, liquid courage running deep through his veins, “Inevitable, remember?”

You scoff, almost instinctively rolling your eyes despite the endeared warmth that floods your belly. “You’re an idiot.”

“I know,” he says again, “You coming?”

And all you can do is nod, biting back a fully-fledged smile before you’re rushing over and slotting yourself under his outstretched arm.

You definitely enjoy him more than you should.

Living with boys for the first time in your life has taught you a lot over the weeks you’ve been staying at the lake house.

The first is that they’re weirdly messy - in ways that shouldn’t bother you, but they do. It isn’t clothes left around, or dirty plates - but it’s hand soap crusted around the spout by the faucet, shoes kicked off and discarded at random points throughout the house, and they, for some bizarre reason, never put the lid back right on anything.

The second is that they’re loud - and that should have been anticipated. Guys are notoriously obnoxious. But it isn’t just their voices that carry. It’s footsteps up the stairs, stomping in the dead of the night when one of them needs a drink. It’s chewing their food, or slurping their coffee, or scraping the feet of their chairs against the floor when they’re sat at the dining table. It’s tapping their hands on their knees in haphazard rhythm whenever there might be an ounce of peace that they, without a doubt, misunderstand for awkward silence. 

And the third is that they probably couldn’t organise a fire in a match factory. And that goes for a lot of things - the kitchen cupboards, their laundry loads, and, most importantly, one of the many parties they love to throw.

It wouldn’t bother you so much - they usually work out in the end - but this time, it’s Ellie’s birthday, and the way they leave everything until the last minute is about to give you an aneurysm or something. 

There’s no food, no drinks, no cake, no decorations, and the party is tonight.

And Jack, who’s grand idea it had been to throw her a party in the first place, seems to have kidnapped her - disappearing and leaving you to try and figure out what’s going on.

Cole is the one who finds you in the kitchen, spiralling out, frantically trying to put together some kind of list so that one of the guys can go to the store and pick up the bare minimum to throw a party together - and he manages to calm you down - gathers the rest of the guys and helps come up with a plan, sharing out different categories. Quinn and Josh are down to get drinks, Cole and Alex are down to get food, and you and Luke are down for decorations. 

And then within the next five minutes, you’re back up in your room, transferring things from one of your bags into a tote, so you can carry more stuff back to the car without having to bring back a load of plastic, and Luke is sat on your bed, leaning back onto his hands as he watches you, green eyes still tickling your skin with their tangible watch. 

“I know we’re on a time crunch, but could we make another pit-stop at the mall? I still need to find a present for this baby shower.”

“Oh, actually, I made you something.”

“You made me something?” You can feel him watching you as you dig through the bag you’d brought back with you from being home.

“Yeah, I was bored, when you guys were gone, I forgot to give it to you when you got back, got kinda distracted by the whole wedding thing,” you tell him, reaching blindly to try and find the little figure. “I went by that art supply store and picked up one of those kits,” You finally find it, pulling out the little crotchet animal that may or may not have been your fourth attempt. The first had a stubby neck, the second had uneven legs, and you don’t think the third one’s face was anywhere near appropriate to be gifting to a child. This one isn’t perfect, but you’d honestly reached your limit with it. “Don’t make it a thing, it was like therapy while I was back home to be honest.”

“Oh that’s adorable.” He pouts, accepting it from you and immediately turning it back, bobbing it’s head as if to greet you. “Why a giraffe?”

“Long neck,” you smile, reaching out to pat it. “Reminded me of you.”

“Ha ha,” he rolls his eyes, but the laughter feels real enough. “She’ll love it.”

“She?” It slips out by instinct before you can check yourself, eyes widening as his meet yours again, his lips twitching in the corners. “Thought you said it was for your captain,”

“It is.” He smirks, “Men can’t carry babies last time I checked.” 

You nod, because of course men can’t carry babies. Of course the shower is for the mother of the baby - who you vaguely remember Jack and Luke talking about - someone who works with them back in Jersey. Someone they’re both close to, clearly, if Luke’s stressing this much about a gift.

“Wait, are you jealous?”

“No.” You scoff, frowning purposefully, lips turning down in forced denial.

“You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

“You want to take this back now, huh?” He holds the giraffe in a way that it bends, adorably, like he’s trying to taunt you with it, and it’s wonky eyes do little to distract from the charm he gives it.

“Nope.” You shrug, “You can give it to whatever girl you want, doesn’t bother me at all.”

“Of course not,” he stands, stepping toward you slowly, “You couldn’t care less what I do away from this house, right?”

“Right.” You gulp, looking into soft green eyes, your legs starting to wobble at the knees, strength and integrity waining as the seconds pass. You really don’t know why you’re still keeping this game up. Ever since that night of the wedding, you’ve been sneaking off into Luke’s room as soon as Ellie falls asleep. You fall asleep by his side, and he wakes you when he gets up early, so you can sneak back without Ellie realising you’ve even gone.

You’ve kissed him every day, sometimes tender, sometimes torrid - over the centre console of his car when he drops you off at work, in his bed before you drift off to sleep, in the kitchen when you sneak off under the ruse of refilling your drink. He can tell the difference between the flavours of lip balms you wear, comments on it like he has a little ranking system filed away somewhere in the back of his mind. You both whisper your secrets in the dark of the night, and you had promised him that you would try to open yourself up more to him.

“I thought we were past this,” he hums, stepping closer, voice low in a way that buzzes through your bones. “Thought we were being honest with each other, now.”

“Honest?” You ask, voice weak, neck craning now to look up at him, eyes boring into your own as he advances on you. 

His hand reaches to cup your jaw, to tilt your head just that bit further, and presses his lips straight to yours instead of elaborating any further.  

He’s tentative, at first. Gentle, even. Fingertips ghosting along the side of your neck, pulling you closer, less with any physical force and more so with pure magnetic attraction, your skin humming - buzzing, even, to be touched by him in any which way. 

Your chin tilts as your mouths slot together in a soft, slow kiss, and when his lips touch yours, everything else fits perfectly into place. The fingers of his left hand press firmly into the flesh of your hip, now, using a slight force to manoeuvre you how it suits him - as close as he can physically get you - and those on his right reach around enough to slightly curve towards the back of your neck, applying just enough pressure so that your chin angles upward to deepen the kiss, his tongue pressing a pleading invitation into your bottom lip.

An invitation you immediately grant him, your hands finding their place on his body with ease, one flat against the warm expanse of his chest and the other matching his, soft fingertips grazing the skin of his neck until they tangle in the slight overgrowth of curls at the nape.

Everything feels so fluid, so effortless, and yet, so new - like this is the first time you have kissed, an eruption of fresh feelings bursting through you. There’s still a familiarity that lingers - one of ease, where it’s like your bodies have each other mapped out, already. You know every cell of him and he of you, and it’s evident in the way the moment escalates.

Your bodies naturally gravitate towards the nearest surface, his fingers reaching out behind your hip to soften the blow of him pushing you into the dresser, your back arching, feet moving in sync as not to tangle and trip, or stumble and break the kiss.

But there’s nothing else clumsy about it.

He lifts you with ease, the cold surface only a slight shock to the system, and it brings you to the perfect height where he can seamlessly move his kisses from your lips, past your jaw, down your neck and into the crevice of your collarbones, leaving a trail of the sticky residue of your lip balm. 

Strong hands cup your thighs, parting your legs until he can stand between them, and your fingers bury themselves into his curls, pushing into him however you can. 

When his fingers graze the inside of your thigh, his lips part from the hot skin of your clavicle, and his head tilts slightly until his darkened green eyes meet yours.

“Please,” you breathe out before he can even ask, beyond caring for whatever particles of pride you’ve been desperately trying to cling to when you watch his lips curve slowly into the most panty-dropping smirk you think you’ve ever seen.

“Please what?”

Your lips part as if by instinct, a biting remark fizzling out on the tip of your tongue as your mind works for some kind of comeback, for some semblance of resistance to whatever this version of him is, but there’s nothing. Just a frantic plea for him to do anything to you. Whatever he wants.

Your hips shuffle forward as if led by a mind of their own, trying to force his hand up, only for him to follow the movement of your thigh.

“Touch me,” you find yourself pouting, spikes of heat flashing through you at the way you can see the thoughts crossing his mind, of all the ways in which he can torture you - putty in the palm of what you thought were safe hands.

“Tell me you were jealous,” he prompts, leaning forward to press a teasing kiss to your lips, “Tell me that the thought of me even talking to another girl makes your skin crawl.”

Don’t let him get cocky, a voice prevails in the back of your mind, despite the accuracy of his words. Tell him he’d have to have an ounce of game for you to be remotely worried, tell him the only thing that makes your skin crawl is his incessant need to mouth off all the time. Tell him, tell him, tell him!

“I was jealous,” you breathe out instead, chasing the victorious smirk that stretches across his lips in the hopes you can kiss it away.

Jealous of a girl you’ve never met, in a relationship with another man, pregnant with his child, not remotely interested in Luke.

A girl who gets to see him all the time, who knows him probably in ways you might never, who he cares enough about to want to gift her something meaningful. Who he casually texts and smiles at his phone as he’s doing so, who he and Jack talk affectionately about in ways they’ll never talk about you.

You’ve officially lost it. 

“And if you don’t touch me in the next 3 seconds,” you carry on, scrambling to claw back one single iota of your dignity, your hands gripping at his broad shoulders, “I won’t let you touch me again.”

Luke laughs. Practically snorts at you, eyes crinkling in the corners in pure amusement. Your dignity is long gone.

“1,” you start, your voice shakier than you’d ever like it to be, and his hands move to either side of your hips, clutching at the edge of the dresser.

“2,” you didn’t think you could sound worse than before, definitely longer than a second ago, but you’re quickly proven wrong as you watch him leverage that grip to push himself upright, creating a distance between the two of you that drains all the heat from your body.

“3.” he finishes, taking a step back and watching you with unadulterated hunger in his eyes, daring you to follow through with your threat - and the smug idiot knows you won’t.

He knows it’s coming, even anticipates the way in which you pounce on him, arms ready to catch you when you throw yourself down onto the ground in front of him, landing with a quick thud that jolts you straight into him. Hands at either side of his face pull him down, and he does half of the work in bending his back so it isn’t as clumsy. 

You tangle yourself up in him, legs twisting between each other until you’re stumbling toward the bed, and it’s as soon as you get your fingers back into his hair, as soon as his hands are pushing your top up, grazing at the warm skin of your back, that you hear a call of your name.

You falter back from him just as the door swings open, managing to create a reasonable amount of distance as Ellie swaggers in, voice still raised as she asks, “Have you seen my-,” It’s Luke that she sees first, eyes zeroing in on his flushed face with pin-point accuracy, her brows furrowing as she takes him in, heaving chest and messy hair and all. “Lip gloss?”

Lip gloss? Is she joking? 

“You came all the way back up here for lip gloss?” You ask, still slightly breathless and brain fogged, and feeling very much like you’ve just put all your chips on the table and watched them get swept away in seconds. 

You watch as Ellie’s eyes dart to Luke’s mouth, watch him grow conscious of the balmy coating smeared across his lips, and you feel your heart stop in it’s place, your chest squeezing in anticipation of a thump thump thump that doesn’t come.

“No,” she mutters, diverting her attention back to you with a sobering shake of her head. “Balm,” she corrects, “The kind with SPF, I think I’m burning, I didn’t realise me and Jack were gonna be gone all morning.”

“Uhm, yeah,” you breathe, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ears in the hopes it helps cool your head down, some. “I have some in my bag.”

Your tote is on the dresser you had just been placed on yourself, and you use the opportunity to dig through it to will the burning sensation in your ears away, levelling out your breathing as you root around for a tube of lip balm you know is in there somewhere.

“Could you check for my car keys, too? I was thinking we could drop by the mall for lunch. Catch up” She adds, with a forced wiggle of her brows, clearly what she had actually come up here for, and you fish those out too, throwing them across to her. “Quinn’s looking for you before you go, Luke, something about a list.”

“I should go check what he wants,” Luke mumbles, putting another few steps of distance between you before he offers an awkward wave, and departs the room with heavy feet that you hear stomp all the way down the hall, the last thing you see of him being a skinny, lopsided crochet giraffe poking out of his back pocket.

Apparently Jack’s plans of keeping some element of surprise for the party had gone out of the window as soon as he had got her alone - and you’re kind of grateful for the fact.

Keeping secrets from Ellie is stressful - you of all people would know, you’ve somehow managed to keep a pretty big one from her all summer - and she usually has a way of figuring things out on her own.

You probably would have folded to her - just the two of you out together, sipping smoothies in the food court at the mall - if he hadn’t already filled her in one the plans for the night. 

It makes up a little for his lack of effort, earlier - especially now that your hands are clear of it. You don’t know how much you trust the guys to put something together while you and Ellie are looking for an outfit for her, but you have no choice but to leave them to it. Jack had reassured you he had everything under control, and despite the absurdity of that statement, it’s nice for that panic you had been feeling earlier to have been flushed away.

“I think tonight’s the night,” Ellie sighs dreamily, elbow resting on the table and her chin in the palm of her hand, “We had this really deep conversation while we were out walking, and he pretty much told me he has feelings for me, he was really nervous, it was kind of cute.”

“I’ll take your word for the cute thing,” you chuckle, sipping at your smoothie and smiling at how happy she looks. It’s nice to hear, her having hope about the situation for once, instead of dread or fear. 

“He said you two spoke at his cousin’s wedding,”

“It was nothing,” you shrug, “He didn’t need any interference from me to realise he likes you, El, he just needed a nudge.”

“I can hardly call you out on interfering,” her lips twist, nervously, “I’ve kind of been doing the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you think I’ve been hanging out with Cole so much all summer?”

“Cole?” You frown, leaning back into your chair, “You’ve lost me.”

When you’d last spoken to Ellie about Cole, she had told you they just got along, and there was nothing more to it - and you had no reason to believe otherwise. When you and Luke had been in the midst of your own interference, and you had been playing third wheel to their hangouts, they had been getting along. Almost like siblings. Cole never flashed her those flirty winks or toothy grins that he gave everyone else. 

“He’s into you.” She says, finger swiping in the ring left behind from her smoothie cup on the table, “And I was kind of giving him advice on how to approach you. I figured you wouldn’t mind, ‘cause he’s like your normal type, and you seemed like you liked him-,”

“I’m sorry, you think I like Cole?” 

You’re taken aback. You don’t remember giving any sort of indication you were ever into Cole Caufield.

Maybe you could have been, before this summer - would have probably fallen victim to his cheeky smiles or his teasing banter. He’s probably closer to your usual type, if you even have one. Confident, with a presence that sort of demands attention. But you realise, now, your attention should be earned - in more than just a flash of cute teeth and boyish features.

In dumb jokes told just to bring you out of a bad mood, and a car with the AC dialled up waiting for you after a shift on a hot day. In hands that offer you help before you ever have to ask, and eyes that see so far beyond what version of yourself you try to put out there.

You could have liked Cole, in another world, or another life, if another boy wasn’t around. 

“I did until I walked in on you kissing Luke, earlier.”

You blink slowly at her, mouth agape as she stares blankly back. 

What the fuck?

“I wasn’t kissing Luke,” you scoff, denial making your face twist in funny ways that you can even feel look deranged. “We were talking.”

“Into each other’s open mouths?” She snickers, “Unless he’s been digging around in our stuff when we’re not around, I can’t think of any other reason he’d have left the room with Summer Fridays Vanilla Beige smeared all over his lips.”

“It was Brown Sugar, actually.” You correct her, guiltily, hoping the words you mutter next through pouted lips don’t quite make it to her ears. “He says it’s sweeter.”

“Oh my God.” She guffaws, mouth agape and eyes wide in realisation. “How long has this been going on?”

“Nothing’s going on,” you deny, although you can feel heat creeping up your neck, already. “We just get along-,”

“We get along, and you don’t welcome me home with an open mouth.”

“Ellie-,”

“Listen, he’s not just some guy that you can mess around with, he’s way deeper into you than you probably realise, and-,”

“I like him, okay?” you blurt out, voice just loud enough to be heard over her rambling but not enough to carry anywhere else, and the silence that follows is almost deafening - prolonged in a way that you can’t even remember if you said anything, or not.

But the way Ellie is looking at you tells you enough.

Why is everyone so caught up on you breaking his heart?

As if you aren’t putting the entirety of yours on the line.

“Luke?” She asks, like the two of you haven’t just been talking about him. “You like Luke Hughes?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, leaning onto your elbows and pressing the palms of your hands to your face, eyes scrunching tight to try clear up some mind space to make sense of what it is you’re admitting to.

It makes sense already, to you. Verbalising it is the problem.

He’s charming, he’s funny, he makes you laugh, most times unintentionally but that doesn’t make your feelings dwindle in the slightest. 

He’s weirdly passionate about that one horse movie and won’t shut up trying to get you to watch it with him, but it’s endearing in a way that you want to kiss him to shut him up. Or maybe even watch it, God forbid.

He literally never stops eating, but it’s like his body is in tune to yours now, and he always makes double if he feels like you might be hungry so you don’t ever have to ask, which is weirdly sweet.

When you lay beside him in the middle of the night, you don’t feel pressured to do anything other than talk.

And when you do, he listens to you - retains information and checks up in a way that makes you feel seen, makes you feel a way you haven’t in a really long time. He doesn’t talk over you, or dismiss your feelings, or try to change the topic when things go a little too deep or get a little heavy. He shares the load, asks questions that make you think and process things in a new way, and he isn’t patronising when he does so. He doesn’t say things that sound like they’re straight out of a Psych 101 textbook like your feelings are valid or what makes you think that?

And he compares your wildly different worlds in a way that doesn’t feel like a competition. His troubles aren’t worse than yours, his life isn’t harder.

You’re equals.

You’ve never felt like anyone’s equal, not even Ellie.

It’s like with all the other parts of your life that make you hurt, make you feel small and insignificant - they fade away when you’re with Luke.

His corner of your world is bright - despite the seemingly inexhaustible snark-meter constantly ticking between you two - it’s easy, doesn’t weigh down on you or make your chest feel tight, not in that way, at least.

You’ve been introduced to a whole new influx of feelings in your chest by Luke.

You can give in to the ugly side of yourself that wants to bite at him until there’s nothing left, to push whenever he gets a little too close, and you don’t have to worry that you’ll scare him off or push too far, ‘cause he’ll just pull you with him and bite back - only, it doesn’t hurt like when anyone else does it. Somehow, you think he savours the parts that other people might spit out - chews and swallows and rubs at his belly in satisfaction like you’re the best meal he’s ever had. 

Despite all the other things that have shattered your heart, Luke Hughes makes it feel whole, again.

And it should make you feel sick - lovey-dovey stuff like that usually does, your walls shooting straight up at the first sign of affection from anybody, metaphorical sneakers on and carrying your legs as far and as fast as they can run - but this doesn’t.

You don’t want to run from Luke, not really.

“I thought you said he was dorky and annoying.”

You’re pretty sure she had been the one to say that, at some point, but you don’t remember arguing the fact, so you don’t bring it up.

“He is.” You pout. He’s also apparently inevitable. “He kinda crept up on me, I guess.”

Ellie is quiet for a minute as she watches you, eyes narrowing as she takes you in - shoulders slumped, lips pouted, defeated.

“Why not just tell him, then? Why hide it?” She asks, leaning onto the table too until your faces are level when you peak up at her, “You know he likes you back, right? He’s got the biggest crush on you, it’s borderline problematic.”

“I don’t know, I don’t really understand why he likes me.”

“Does it matter?”

It does. You don’t want to keep running, but you can’t really help it. There’s something ingrained deep within you that is trying to shelter yourself from all the ways in which succumbing to these feelings will inevitably hurt you.

“Luke’s way smarter than me, and he’s way more successful, he’s kind and he’s generous, he comes from a great family, has this great house, we have literally nothing in common, and he doesn’t see that now because he just thinks he’s attracted to me, and he likes that I don’t just fold to him because he’s some superstar, but the second that’s gone,” you sigh, trying to swallow down the hurt in your voice, blink away the onslaught of tears, “He’ll just get bored of me like everybody else does, and then he’ll be gone. And I’ll just be some girl he broke up with and left behind, and that’s all I’ll ever be.”

Ellie frowns, a strained mutter of your name called as her hand falls to yours in an attempt to comfort you. “You’ll never know if you don’t try, babe.”

“No, I know.”

It’s all you’ve ever known.

Men who start off treating you like some prized possession - cherishing you, making you feel valued and loved - and the second the shine wears off, the second something even newer, even brighter, even sparklier, crosses their path, they’re gone.

And you’re left behind wondering what it is about you that keeps driving them to leave.

It happened with your dad, with his new wife and their perfect kids - the boys he always wanted, who he never had to force himself to like. The dream family he abandoned you to pursue. It happened with Jamie, with all the girls he saw after you, with the way he never even looked your way again, even after all the secrets you shared, and the promises he made. With all those other boys who never saw you as anything more than a fabricated story to spread for a few brownie points with their buddies in the locker room.

It will happen again.

These feelings you have for Luke - the comfort he gives, the contentment, the ease in conversation, the warmth he bathes you in until your skin prunes and he seeps in through the cracks - they’re better kept to yourself. It’s easier that way, to keep this whole heart under lock and key, not giving anyone a chance to break parts off and keep it for themselves.

It’s almost perfect the way it is.

Safe, even from the clutches of the boy who pieced it back together, brick by laborious brick.

“There isn’t long left of the summer, anyway,” you go for a nonchalant shrug, but your shoulders feel heavy, and it turns out more like an arduous huff. “I doubt he’s shy of female attention back in Jersey, he’ll forget I ever existed before he even knows it.”

“You should talk to him,” Ellie suggests, “At least let him know where you stand, even if it’s to tell him things can’t go further.” 

The thought of it is too daunting. Looking into those gleaming green eyes and laying your heart on the line.

You can pretend all you want to Ellie, to yourself, even, that you wouldn’t want more, but you don’t think you could keep up the show with him.

“He deserves at least that.”

And damn it, she’s right.

Maybe he even deserves a proper chance.

Luke never thought he’d regret kissing you for any reason, but he’s wishing he had practiced some restraint up in your room, earlier.

If he hadn’t advanced on you, had let you pack your bag and got you out of the house before Ellie and Jack got back, he could have followed through on his plan of action for the day.

A plan he’d been hyping himself up for, all week - getting you on your own, talking things out, maybe even asking you out. Properly. Not just dinner at the mall, but a real date. Planned, perfected. A fancy dinner, or a trip to the movies. A picnic blanket laid out somewhere with a nice view, and an abundance of your favourite snacks. 

He wants to kiss you without having to hide it, anymore.

He wants to walk with you tucked under his arm. Wants to have you in his lap when there’s too many people over at the house, and the group are struggling for space on the couches in the den. 

He also sort of wants peace of mind, but what’s that compared to not having to sneak around, anymore. 

He’d made his mind up in the morning, waking up beside you at 5am, rousing you from your sleep with soft mutterings of your name, and lips pressed to your cheek until he could feel you smile. 

“Hi,” your voice had been croaky, and your movements slow, shuffling against him as your skin became illuminated by the soft glow of the rising sun slipping through the gap in the curtains. Your legs had been tangled with his under the sheets, and you did little to untangle them, and he was tempted to lock his so that you couldn’t. 

“Hey,” he mumbled, lips still moving against your skin, nipping at your cheek, your jaw, your throat, and your fingers rose until they clutched at the back of his hair, curls wrapping around them as you held him in place. 

“What time is it?”

“Around five,” his own hands landed on your waist, slipping under the hem of your tank, and trying to savour the warmth of your skin, your body hot from being against his all night. “Figured you’d need to be a little earlier today with it being Ellie’s birthday and all.”

“Thank you,” you used your soft grip on his curls to tug, until his face left the crook of your neck, and you blinked softly, smiled sweetly, and he felt his heart beat at twice the normal speed. You leant up and kiss him, straight on the lips, and he smiled against you just as you pulled away. 

He felt cold all over as soon as you detached yourself, and he rolled onto his side to watch as you stood, arms raised to stretch and lifting the bottom of your tank top to rise up your belly.

He felt robbed. Like he deserved longer with you, and it had been as you crawled back over your side of his bed, and had kissed him once more before leaving, that he had decided he needed to do something about it.

His original plan had been to steal you away at some point in the night, everyone else too distracted by the party to notice or care, but being teamed up with you to go get decorations seemed like it would work too.

Until Jack came back and fucked his plans up.

Jack said that he would go get the food with Turcs, that he had already paid for a cake, and he had to show his ID when he picked it up. He said Ellie shouldn’t have to do anything, and that you would be the best person for her to do nothing with, which left Luke picking up decorations with Cole.

It wasn’t that he minded Cole’s company, but Cole isn’t you.

He probably could have tucked Cole under his arm as they walked side by side through target and picked up a bunch of of banners and streamers, given the logistics of their height difference, but it wouldn’t have been as cute.

He has managed to get a lot of unexpected information though. And of course, his only thought is that he can’t wait to share it with you. 

Cole tells Luke how he and Ellie have only been hanging out all summer to make Jack jealous.

He bites his tongue to refrain from telling him that sort of trick doesn’t work on his brother, but Cole seems too pleased with himself for Luke to rain on his parade, and he finds it kind of funny that everyone’s been working to get the two of them to wake up to their feelings, not just you and him.

Cole might have even ended up putting more effort into it than you and Luke did, acting as a go-between for Jack and Ellie, and raising the stakes for both of them to make a move.

“And what do you get out of any of that?” Luke chuckles as he works at taking the banners out of their plastic wrapping, Cole taking the plastic and putting it straight into the trash.

The smile drops as soon as Cole says your name, though, and Luke’s hands stop in place. “Ellie’s been giving me insider info. I’m primed and ready to make a move.”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Luke frowns, “You like her? Since when?”

He tries not to let the panic stirring in his chest reflect on his features, but it’s hard. 

Cole and Ellie had been hanging out for a long time, now. He can’t have been into you that whole time, right? Not without saying anything to anyone else - Cole is kind of mouthy, like that. Word would have got back around to Luke if Cole’s liked you for months. 

“Since I met her. She’s a really cool girl, really funny.” Cole scoffs, hand reaching out for more trash. “And she’s, like, one of the hottest girls I’ve ever seen, you know?”

Of course Luke knows. He’s seen the most beautiful sides to you - soaked head to toe from a garden hose, eyes crinkled from laughter, or the aftermath, curled up on a couch with just-dry hair and heart opening up to him for the very first time. In an orange baseball cap and a Mets jersey, twirling as you exit one of the fitting rooms you had found in the mall, a big cute grin on your face as you allow yourself to dorky with Luke, and only with Luke. Sat out on the fountain at the club, skin bathed in the glistening moonlight and your heart thumping in the palm of his tender hands. Laid beside him in the early hours of the morning, soft snores falling from between your lips and hair splayed out against his pillow.

But he can’t exactly say that to Cole - who has apparently been working to pursue you this entire time without Luke ever catching on.

“Ellie says I’m her type, so I don’t know why I’m stressing about asking her out-,”

“Out like on a date? Like you want to date her?”

Luke knows he sounds like an idiot without Cole giving him the weirded-out look he gives, but he’s starting to lose out to the dread that is flooding the pit of his stomach. He stumbles to follow Cole out of the kitchen and into the living room, where they had set up a step ladder before to hang the decorations.

“You really think I’d be trying so hard if I didn’t?” Cole scoffs, “Catch up, Luke, I’m trying to end my summer with a girlfriend-,”

“She’s hardly girlfriend material.”

The words taste sour in the mouth that moves before his brain has time to think - sour enough that he has to try not to grimace, wishing he could suck them back in and swallow them back down like they never came out. 

“What do you mean?” Cole asks, his features dropping into a frown. “I thought you two were getting along.”

“We are,” he agrees, despite it seeming like an understatement, but words are starting to pour out before he can filter them, and he can already feel himself getting carried away. “And she’s a nice enough person, don’t get me wrong, but I just don’t think it would work out with her like that.”

“You think she’d be hard work?”

He knows you are. But he likes you that way. He doesn’t want anyone else to worm their way into your good graces like he has. 

“Yeah,” he huffs, “She’s always out, and always flirting with guys at the club, you’ve seen it.” He knows he’s pulled that out of his ass, but what else is he supposed to say?

“I think she’s just fishing for tips, Lukey,” Cole chuckles, and Luke’s cheeks flush with humiliation at the pet name. He feels small, like he’s just something that Caufield can steam roll straight over without much protest. “Can’t blame her, some of those guys have deep pockets.”

“I’ve just heard stuff, you know.”

“Like what?”

Jesus Christ, Cole, he thinks, wishing he’d just take his word for it and get over you, already. As if it would ever be that easy. He doesn’t particularly enjoy saying these things out loud - using the words you had so carefully confided in him against you - but there’s a panicked desperation creeping up within him, becoming possible to ignore, and it’s cancelling out all other rational thoughts in his brain. 

The second you find out Cole Caufield is interested, you’ll no longer have any need for Luke.

Luke, who your every conversation with starts or ends with some sort of bickering argument, who annoys you to no end, who riles you up like it’s what he was put on this very Earth to do.

Cole is charming, he’s always had an ease when it comes to talking to girls that Luke never quite found in himself, and he’ll win you over in no time - and that’s if you aren’t interested, already.

But Luke is building up to that.

He’s been building up to it all summer.

Even before then, without entirely knowing it. 

The two of you have something, even if you refuse to admit it. You wouldn’t have kissed him all those times, otherwise, wouldn’t have come to his bed in the middle of the storm those weeks ago, and almost every night since he came back from Vegas, wouldn’t have slept with him before he left, wouldn’t have begged him to give in to you - not if you weren’t interested in him.

You’ve shared parts of yourself he knows no one’s ever seen, and he can’t let that be for nothing. 

But now the rug is being pulled out from under him, and all he can do to cling on to the edges with an idiotic possessiveness that curls his upper lip and brings his heart to a screeching stop. 

“Like how she’s with a different guy every week at Michigan. Apparently she gets around.”

“Oh,” Cole frowns, and Luke watches as his face turns, his own fists clenching at the urge to take it all back, to defend her and call Cole out on his immediate shift despite it being his own fault. 

He’s made his bed, now. He has to lie in it.

“Ellie didn’t mention all that stuff.”

“She’s hardly gonna call her friend easy.” Luke scoffs, and he thinks the way the words are spat out of his mouth is some sort of reflection of the way his lips don’t want to say them. Like they’re disgusted that his brain would even conceptualise them enough to be spoken. “Especially when you were doing her a favour with the whole Jack thing.”

“I don’t know man, I think you’ve got the wrong idea of her.”

Luke rolls his eyes as Cole makes his way back toward the step ladder, banner in hand, jaw tensing as he scrambles to think of something to stop this.

“She’s not the kind of girl you date,” he manages to call out, despite the tremor in his voice, every fibre of his being fighting the words from being spoken. “And there’s like a month left before we all leave for camp, so if you were to start anything, it would just be for the summer, anyway.”

“Jack and Ellie have started something with just a month left.”

“That’s not the same thing, they’ve been into each other for years, they text and call all the time, nothing’s really changing for them except for a label, you really think you’re gonna keep that up after just a couple months of knowing her?”

He reaches out for the other end of the banner and holds it as Cole positions his side, lip tugged between his teeth and a frown on his face as he mulls Luke’s words over. 

“You’ll be in Montreal, and she’ll be here, and you’ll be focusing on hockey, and training, and you won’t have time to keep up something serious with a girl you barely know.”

He tries not to think about how it’s the same distance to Jersey - an almost 2 hour flight - and how he’d be doing the exact same thing, swept up into the season before he knows it and potentially doing nothing but letting you down. 

“And you know what she’s like, she’d find something to argue about with a monk, for God’s sake,” he scoffs, brows furrowed so hard he can feel the tension in his forehead, “All you’d get from her is an earache. She’s not worth it.”

Cole turns to narrow his eyes at Luke, but something else over the top of his head catches his attention, instead, and the surprised muttering of your name turns Luke’s blood to ice.

Frozen in place, eyes wide, heart thudding in his ears, he waits with bated breath for something to happen - for Cole to break into a shit-eating grin, and tell him he’s just fucking around. For the ground to swallow him up. For anyone - literally anybody else - to respond.

But your voice carries straight over to him. Travels through his ears, ricochets around the cavern of his skull, shoots down his spine and makes his legs go numb.

“We uhm,” your tone is shaky, and Luke, for the first time, maybe, ever, hates the way you sound. “We were just checking if you needed a hand with the decorations.”

He turns slowly, and it’s Ellie’s eyes he meets first. Pointed, narrowed, betrayed, even, she glares at him like he’s just kicked a wounded animal right in front of her. 

“You can’t decorate your own party,” Cole laughs from behind Luke, as Luke’s attention drifts slowly your way. 

His eyes meet yours, and he can see the watery glaze over them from across the room. Can see your throat working to gulp down your hurt as your lips twist.

Ellie says something in response, and he vaguely hears Cole speak too, but all that he can focus on is the blood rushing around his head, a whooshing and whirring that makes him feel like his ears are about to pop, or his brain is about to explode. His lips part to speak, to say something, anything, to explain what you had clearly overheard, but your gaze drops to the floor, and he sees your walls build back up right before his eyes, brick by brick, cementing themselves back in place.

He’s such an idiot.

He’s such a monumental asshole.

The last time he had seen tears in your eyes had been sat by the fountain at the club - he had wiped them away, and had promised you he had your back, and you had just caught him having anything but with Cole. And all that after you had told him why you had ever been hesitant to let anyone in the first place.

He doesn’t think he’s ever messed up like this.

He steps forward, unsteady on his feet, and you step back, still not able to look him in the eye again, before turning on your heel and making your way upstairs.

Luke hears the stomp of your feet as you go, watches Ellie go after you, wishing it could be him, and stands, motionless, until he feels a firm pat on his back.

“Don’t worry, man,” Cole says, “She’s cool, she’ll be over it after a couple of drinks.”

Luke doesn’t even think he says anything coherent when he responds, a grunt or a grumble - it can’t have been words, because he can’t even form them in his brain. 

“I’m gonna ask her out tonight, anyway,” Cole chuckles, “So what you said won’t even mean anything.”

Great.

He’s just fucked things up with one of the greatest people in his life, the girl of his dreams, and it doesn’t even mean anything.

Not the kind of girl you date. 

Not worth it.

All that from the boy who supposedly had your back not that long ago. The first guy in a long time, maybe even ever, to make you feel secure, and safe, and like you could trust someone again.

Luke thinks you’re an earache. 

He thinks you’re argumentative, and only worthy of a brief, summer fling - that keeping up anything with you when he goes home would be a waste of the time and energy he should be dedicating to hockey.

And he’s probably right, you think.

It’s only what you’ve been telling yourself in the back of your mind all summer. Self-deprecating thoughts about how he’s far too good for you, and you’re only interesting when he can’t have you, and he’ll get tired of you before you can even realise he’s already drifted off.

Ellie had told you all the way back in your freshman year that the two of you weren’t a good fit. Jack had been telling Luke the same all summer. And you had only just managed to convince yourself otherwise on the drive back to the lake house from the mall.

You can hardly blame him for being two steps ahead.

You think that’s why you can’t bring yourself to cry - the sting of tears prickling persistently but never pushing through, eyes watering so much you can’t even put on mascara without the fear of it trickling down your face and ruining the rest of your makeup.

You’d tried crying, before. Had ran up to your room and had sat on the other side of your bed, hidden from the door and knees pressed to your chest. Your breath had stuttered, and your lips had trembled, but the tears wouldn’t fall, try as you might to have made them.

And when Ellie had found you, had sat beside you with an arm stretched over your shoulders, you had tried, then, too.

And it would be your luck that as soon as you press the inky substance into your lashes that they would finally fall, so you’ve been sat trying to wish them away for the past ten minutes - the tube clutched in a death grip in your hands as you sit at the makeshift vanity you and Ellie had set up all those weeks ago when you had moved in, taking deep breaths and willing the hurt to go away.

It’s where Luke finds you after knocking with no response - you barely remember hearing it - shuffling wordlessly into the room and perching himself down behind you on the edge of the bed.

You see him in the mirror, your eyes darting away before his can meet them in the reflection, and you stiffen your shoulders, bracing yourself for the blow.

“I didn’t mean any of what you heard.”

You breathe out a humourless chuckle, bitterness settling into the pit of your stomach and your lips trembling with resistance. 

“I mean it, I don’t think those things about you, I promise, I-,”

“It doesn’t even matter,” you cut him off with a roll your eyes, pushing the mascara tube toward the mirror and figuring you’re just gonna go without. 

“I was panicking, and it just came out like word vomit, and I feel really sick about it, and really stupid, and I wish I could take it all back-,”

“I said it doesn’t matter.” You meet his eyes this time, trying not to fall for just how distraught he looks behind you in the mirror. 

“Of course it matters,” he frowns, and you look away as soon as he pushes himself up, knowing he’s coming for you. “I need you to know that I would never have said those things-,”

“You said them, Luke,” you scoff, “What do you mean you would never have said them, you literally did.”

“I know-,”

“It doesn’t matter-,”

“Can you stop saying that!” He frowns, appearing at the side of you, hands gripping your shoulders to get you to face him. “I’m trying to explain this to you, I’m trying to fix things, and you’re-,”

“What, giving you an earache?”

All those weeks ago, the backs of your legs sticking to the bench in the booth in the restaurant, leaning over the table and sparring back and forth with him, you had convinced yourself that he liked it.

That the glint in his eye was indication of as much, the twitch at the corner of his lips, the way he would bite back without a second to think about it, and had matched your every effort to get one over on him. 

You had thought the two of you had something real. Something you had never found with anyone else. Quick wit, and similar senses of humour, shared boundaries, a mutual level of respect. 

You had thought his persistence had been something that would stick.

And clearly, you thought wrong.

He whispers out an utterance of your name that hurts like fingers wrapped around your throat - clenching and squeezing until you go hot in the head.

“I keep saying it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t, Luke. You were right, we wouldn’t have been able to keep this up past the summer, anyway.”

Luke’s brows furrow your way, eyes darting between yours as his lips part to speak, but nothing comes out.

“You’re going back to Jersey soon, I’m going back to school, it was fun while it lasted but things have run their course.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“We both do.” You shrug, wearing your feigned indifference like armour, just like you know so well to do. “You don’t say the things you said on a whim, Luke, some part of you has to believe that they’re true.”

“I don’t-,”

“I’m giving you a chance to cut things off with no hard feelings-,”

“No hard feelings?” His disbelief cuts through you a little, the hurt in his eyes and the scrunch of his features, too, but if you give in, now, you’re setting yourself up for a world of hurt. 

You had barely just built up the courage to give your heart to him, in whatever shape he had scrunched and squeezed it into before, and he had already managed to bruise it. Giving in will only result in it breaking. 

“I have feelings. I have feelings for you. And I know you have feelings for me, too, you can’t pretend you don’t-,”

“It doesn’t-,”

“It matters.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound like this - so sure, so serious, so raw - and when he takes a hold of your face, hands cupping your jaw, tender but firm, and forces you to look at him, you see the same in his features. “Cole is into you. And he said he was gonna ask you out, and I panicked trying to convince him not to. I should have had faith that you would have turned him down. And I should have been honest, and I should have told him that I’m into you. More than into you, I think I-,”

“I wouldn’t have turned him down.”

You lie with such ease that it makes your heart ache more than the truth, but it’s the only thing you can do to protect it.

If you let Luke carry on, you’ll let him back in.

You can’t let him back in.

Not with the tears that now well his eyes, or the way his face drops like you’ve just struck him in the gut - pained and powerless.

“What?”

Your hands shake in your lap so much you have to clench them shut, knuckles turning white as Luke’s touch slips from your skin. 

“If he asked me out, I would have said yes.”

Luke runs a hand through his hair, blinking repeatedly before he tears his gaze away from yours, and you feel like you can see his walls building - a sight that should flood you with relief, but doesn’t.

“So, what, everything we’ve been through together, all the things we’ve done, all the things we’ve said, you’re just gonna throw it all away like none of it matters?”

You can hear the hurt - can feel it even, clawing at your skin as if it’s trying to find a way to dig past the barriers you’ve put in place. 

But you have to do this.

“I guess not.”

Luke was always going to hurt you. Was going to burrow himself through whatever cracks you left bare to him, weasel his way into your heart and tear it from the inside out. And maybe you were always going to do the same to him.

“Alright then,” he mutters, robotic and distant, with his eyes stuck on the floor. 

He stands from where he had been crouched beside you, backing away before turning completely, and he walks away in long strides, the door to your bedroom closing with a soft click behind him. 

The tear that falls when he’s gone does so slowly. You feel it trail all the way down your cheek from the corner of your eye, until it drops, almost audibly, from your jaw and onto your lap. 

And then the rest follow, uncontrollable and unrelenting.

Inevitable, just like he had said.

A/N: so...... please don't hate me I wrote the ending first lmao!! I imagine this will cause riots in the streets tbh but please let me know what you think hahahah this whole story has become my baby!! she's problematic but she's mine!!!!

[faylvrs]

TONIGHT, GO CRAZY !

★ postscript. what i imagine the bllk men to be like at a christmas party. ★ feat. kaiser, rin, reo, nagi, sae, barou, bachira, shidou, isagi, otoya, karasu, aiku ★ contents. crack mostly, not really x reader LMAO

note. hello. i just wanna start this off by saying i am so so sorry for how late and rushed this is 😵‍💫. i scrapped my other multi cause the idea was sorta dumb and i didn’t know how to write it but.. merry ( late ) christmas and happy new year! hope you enjoy this silly little late gift <3

★ KAISER : WHO INVITED THE GRINCH BRUH..

absolutely does not want to be here, was forced to come because it was his birthday.. not that he actually cares about that. he probably got the most gifts, sent everyone like $1 as a return gift with a proud smirk—“money for the peasants, i guess.” his ass ate all of the cookies and would smack anyone who dared touch him.. ptsd ig 💙

★ RIN : PARTY LONER

not very fond of christmas after his brother dropped the bomb on him that he does not give 2 fucks about him. probably that one loner in the party who stays in the room upstairs. secretly wore a pendant that sae gave him on the last birthday they celebrated together, the picture being rin holding up sae’s trophy with a fond look on his face. christmas makes his heart ache with both nostalgia and sorrow.

★ REO : RICH AUNT

the rich aunt uncle, this motherfucker gifted every single person at the party something well over $1000, and the worst part is he knew exactly what to give everyone too. would brush it off with a “oh, its nothing. just spare change.” .. rich ass. screams in joy when someone gifts him something back, could be a $2 teddy bear and suddenly you’re opening your phone to ‘reo mikage has sent you $3000’.

★ NAGI : LONER #2

also forced to show up like kaiser. parties were never nagi’s thing, he’d much rather stay at home and play video games all day. it took a little bit of convincing ( and a lot of whining ) but he agreed to come if he could bring his phone. does not participate in anything, just lounges in the corner with the occasional damn it when he loses.

★ SAE : THE FUCKS A RETURN GIFT?

he came, with no gifts at all. according to him he expected everyone to be giving him gifts and not expecting anything in return.. i mean, his parents never asked him for a present back so could you blame him? yeah.. you kinda could. i could see him trying to make everything about soccer, imagine this: you’re unboxing your present and you get something like a new pan, and suddenly this bitch speaks up like. “shame its not a soccer ball.. this is why you suck.” someone tape his mouth now.

★ BAROU : PARTY HOST

helped hosting the party, cleaned the house spotless! he also probably cooked 70% of the food, thats what growing with sisters gets you :b. doubled as a security guard of sorts outside the house. except he didn’t ask for identification, he’d yell at you to take your dang shoes off before you walk in. spill anything on the floor? he is coming for you and your entire bloodline.. just kidding!

★ BACHIRA : “SANTA’S REAL..”

unironically believes santa is real, please help this man. to this date he still puts cookies and milk on the table. his mother used to eat them and keep a couple of presents under the tree, thinking he’ll eventually realise santa isn’t real.. which he didn’t. so when the presents suddenly stopped coming and no one ate the cookies, he thought he was on the naughty list forever and sobbed about it for 20 minutes.. poor guy. his heart shattered when isagi held his hand and told him santa isn’t real—he was only trying to help, he swears!

★ SHIDOU : “BRO YOU WEREN’T INVITED???”

shidou is the complete contrast from bachira. does not believe santa is real and crashes the party ( he was not invited. ) yells at children that santa isn’t real and started a tomato war at the party when someone threw a tomato at him and yelled booo! … thankfully, he was later kicked out.

★ ISAGI : SANTA.. NOT REALLY!

epitome of santa, the opposite of kaiser. made hand-made gifts for everyone.. well, almost everyone. ( did not bring one for kaiser <3 ) he had a mini concert at the party, singing his heart out until someone kaiser burst out laughing and started mocking his singing.. things got a little heated from there! lets just say the title of santa was taken away from isagi the moment his ass opened his mouth 💔

★ OTOYA : “WHERE THE HOES AT”

came for the hoes cause he was told there would be a bunch of hotties at the party, which there wasn’t.. but thats okay, he swings both ways! assaulted chigiri with his ninja moves until he got bored, probably pulled up a 10 slide presentation on why he should introduce him to his sister and that he’s got ‘the experience’.. yeah, he got slapped in the face.

★ KARASU : HO ACT LIKE HE A JUDGE..

everybody hates him. constantly judging literally everything.. “these cookies ‘r mediocre at best..” “i could gift ya somethin’ better cutie.” “damn, these decorations lame as hell.” you get the point. starts pouting like a man-child when isagi tells him to shut the hell up, he knows he deserves it but he just can’t help the lil itch in his brain to judge everything okay! ( he just like me fr.. red flag moment 💔 )

★ AIKU : HOES BEFORE BROS

cool unc of the party, drinks are on him alright. i can imagine him grabbing a random sharpie he found on a desk and suddenly giving out tattoo’s for a dollar, broke ass. works pretty efficiently until he’s being labelled a scammer when the tattoo turns out to look like dog shit.. cut him some slack, he’s no artist! leaves the party early when one of his hoes text him to come over.. ima slap the shit out of him n eita 💕

[vervainandspritz]

TASTE OF SHAME

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Part three

Warnings: Dark!Thomas Shelby, manipulation, abuse, non-con/dub-con, gaslighting, violence

A/N: Sorry it took so long. I'm absolutely the worst. Another part coming in shortly

A/N2: COMMENT AND REBLOG PLEASE!

Y/N woke up feeling different than usual. The deep sense of looking forward to something was exciting. Was.. new. Y/N knew it was perhaps one of Tommy's games and not a gesture of kindness in any way, but the idea of going shopping with Ada was nevertheless exciting.

She woke up early, got appropriately dressed, and secretly hoped she wouldn't see him this day at all. It was supposed to be about her. Just today.

Only a bit before eight she went downstairs, slowly looking around to find out whether Mr. Shelby was still home or not. The Arrow house was awfully quiet, like always when Charlie was still sleeping. He wasn't a loud child, but his precious giggles were warming up the overall cold and soulless building enough to breathe some life into it. He was making it sufferable to live in.

Y/N was quiet, mindful not to wake him up as she smiled at the staff, nodding kindly while passing by. Hearing voices from the living room, she made her way through the doorways only to see Ada along with her husband, Freddie.

”Good morning, Y/N” The older woman said with a smile as soon as she saw her. The questioning glance followed after the greeting which made her chuckle. Before she could say something, her man spoke up himself.

”He would never let the two of you go on your own. It was either me or John and Arthur, so trust me, Lady. It's a better choice as it is!” Freddie spoke with an amusing drama and thick Brummy accent, making his wife swat him in the shoulder jokingly.

”He's not wrong” She admitted, sighing, and glancing sideways at her husband.

Y/N nodded lightly, smiling at the genuine contact between the two of them. It was refreshing and.. comforting, to see a glimpse of real love in the hollow walls of the Arrow House.

”It's okay. I don't mind at all” She reassured, gratefully. Her cheeks were rosy with excitement. ”I really appreciate the two of you taking me to the city. It's been... A while.”

Ada winked at Y/N before coming up closer and grasping her hands.

”Lovely then. I'd never say no to shopping with one of the ladies! It's the best time. Especially that we have a set of hands to carry our bags, indeed!”

They chuckled lightheartedly, walking to the corridor to put on their jackets along with the rest of proper clothing. Luckily, the day was nice enough to not need an umbrella.

”Let's get to it then” Y/N said as Freddie opened the door, gesturing for them to go first. Leaving the building, Y/N managed to spare one last glance towards the black, wooden door barely visible from the doorway. Mr. Shelby's office.

~~

The day was going well. Genuinely, for the first time in a long time she could honestly say it. Laughing out the tension which has been slowly gathering on her mind felt wonderful and the company of Ada and Freddie just reminded her how much she missed the careless giggles and fast heartbeat she used to feel back then.

Back when she wasn't someone's belonging. A selfish whim.

Buying all the gear was fun, trying it on and posing even more. Especially once they were done, and Ada suggested buying more clothes.

”We shouldn't,” Y/N said quietly, grabbing Ada's forearm lightly. The older woman rolled her eyes, narrowing them.

”Come on, Y/N. We're spending his money. The least he can do is pay for us!” She let out a laugh which held the mischievous hint, one she shared with all of their brothers. No matter how similar or different Shelby siblings were, they all had it.

She thought for a moment, feeling the unpleasant worry again. Her feelings were raw and visible in her eyes, fully on display as always.

”I don't know,” She said, quietly, stopping in her tracks. Ada picked up on the way her voice broke just a little bit. Moving closer she grasped her shoulders.

”I mean it. Plus, he literally GAVE me money to pay for our stuff.” She was convinced. ”Tommy is my brother, Y/N. He knows me well enough to know better than assuming I'd buy just the necessities.” Y/N shifted uncomfortably, searching in her gaze for the truthfulness to sooth her own anxiety. Looking in Ada's blood irises, she found it. But she wasn't sure just yet. ”...and Thomas loves everything about horses ever since he was a little boy. He's well aware of how much the gear would cost, honey. Yet he gave us way more.” This time her voice carried less humour, wanting to give her the comfort she needed along with reassurance.

Finally, Y/N nodded slowly, looking around and noticing that Freddie gave them some space to talk, stepping aside to smoke a cigarette yet paying attention enough to keep them safe.

Her gaze danced along the shops with bright and bold letters above the entrances, designed to encourage wealthy women to come in and spend their money. Eventually she met her friend's blue eyes again.

”Okay” She agreed, letting out a chuckle as Ada clapped happily before grabbing her hand and pulling them towards the luxury shop.

”Here we come!” She squealed and Freddie just shook his head with amusement, following them closely.

It took about half an hour to get her going. At first it was the Shelby sister who twirled between the alleys in the fairly big shop, touching and gasping over the beautiful creations. All kinds of materials, hundreds of breathtaking colours with even more breathtaking cash tags attached to them made Y/N feel uneasy, but with time... Ada's enthusiasm infected her too.

So they both giggled like young girls, trying dresses on, making funny gestures and blushing furiously as they saw themselves in the big mirror.  So unused to such a luxury, Y/N's eyes shone brightly when she saw the girl in her own reflection. So different from the one she used to see a couple long months ago.

”We're absolutely getting this one,” Ada said suddenly, ripping her out of the train of thoughts. Slowly gazing over the creation, Y/N let out a sigh, picking on the cuticles of her fingers. Looking down she swayed lightly, biting her lower lip, but before she managed to speak up, Freddie joined his wife.

”I must agree,” He said, keeping his expression serious before Ada elbowed him in the side lightly. ”You look like a real high class lady now,” He added, less formally with a small smirk, grasping Ada's hand.

Y/N blushed, so unused to any kind of male attention.

”Thank you. I hope he won't be mad.” The other part of the sentence was said quieter, almost to herself, but unfortunately all of them heard.

Plastering a fake smile onto her lips, she went back to change before they checked out, and got on the way as it was already fairly late. Clouds thinned one the sky, letting everyone see the glimpses of sunset kissing the horizon in a manner so dreamy, Y/N couldn’t help the little smile on her lips as she watched the whole scene through the window. Shopping took a bit longer than expected, as Ada planned out the whole day, making them visit all the ladies' favourites in the city centre. After coffee and sweet souvenirs from the local bakery, they took a walk around the better part of Birmingham before heading back. Around fifteen minutes it took, before Freddie was parking the car on the gravelly driveway. Sighing, Y/N looked down at her hands, knowing the great day was pretty much over now that she was here. Slowly, she moved to get out of the car, grabbing a few of the bags as Ada and her husband did the same. 

The Shelby sister noticed the shift in the air as she moved closer to Y/N rubbing her shoulder with a half smile.

“It was a wonderful day, wasn’t it? We need to do it again soon.” She said, before dramatically lowering her tone. “Next time definitely just us, without any of them,” She gestured towards Freddie with a chuckle, taking the edge off a bit as the tension loosened.

Y/N nodded, agreeing immediately as she loved the idea of having a way out every now and then. Wordlessly they walked up the stairs, greeting one of the maids after making the entrance. She took Y/N’s coat, hanging it for her once she realized Mr. and Mrs. Thorne weren’t staying. 

“Once again, thank you for the outing. I’m looking forward to the next time,” The younger woman said with a genuine honesty in her voice, revealing how much it actually meant to her.

“Anytime,” Freddie responded, winking as he grasped Ada’s hand once she hugged Y/N.

“Of course.” She added, turning around as they started walking away before stopping once again, “Oh, and tell Tommy you’re home already, will you?” And with that, they were gone. 

Y/N considered seeking out Tommy right then, but she was tired from the outing and wanted to change into a more comfortable dress to lounge at home. Once in her room, she was increasingly tempted by her soft inviting bed. As soon as she settled in her soft sheets all her new things still in the shopping bags became distant memories, just like the thought of making her way to Mr. Shelby’s office. Exhaustion overtook her tired mind and before she knew it, she fell asleep. 

Hours passed, and on the other side of the house, Thomas was sitting by his desk. A half empty glass of whiskey stood to his left, as he slowly sipped on it with no rush. He lost count of all the paperwork he’d done today and the end was still nowhere to be seen. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his eyes which became tired from all the reading and writing. 

Suddenly the silence of the room got interrupted by quiet footsteps right by the door. Tommy glanced at the clock, realizing how late it already was. Without knocking the door knob turned as the wooden door gave way to a familiar silhouette. 

Y/N rubbed her eyes, as she walked in. Her feet bare against the cold floor which wasn’t too pleasant, yet useful in a way to keep her awake. 

He watched wordlessly, after putting his glasses back on. As she slowly moved from the doorway towards his desk, eventually slumping into the armchair. She avoided his eyes, feeling guilty with the unintentional disobedience.

So the silence stretched into longer seconds as she picked on the hem of her dress. 

“Had fun?” His voice cut the air eventually, seeing how she struggled with finding anything to say. It was hoarse from the lack of talking for many hours, even lower than usual which she found intimidating.

But on the other hand, was there anything about him which wasn’t intimidating to her? The answer was obvious.

“I’m sorry I didn't come right away. We were late, and.. And I was tired. Before I realized it, I was sleeping.” She said quieter, feeling as she was walking on thin ice that might break at any given moment, pulling her into the freezing, cold water. The stillness that never ceased to surround him was terrifying at times. To her, Thomas Shelby was a complete mystery. His way of carrying himself reminded her of a volcano, so still and quiet just to blow up with a never ending stream of force. So the silence was… chaos really. “I’m sorry, Mr. Shelby”

Her voice, so quiet and submissive, danced around his mind. Mixing with the whiskey he drank, twisting and moving in different directions and causing the weird stirring he felt. Something that started becoming familiar, dangerously enough. His lips stretched into a small grimace, not quite enough to become a proper smile. Another thing that made him, him. All the small things she learned to become aware of, cautious and deliberate while slowly walking between the mines in his head. The boundaries that were constantly in motion for any kind of comfort, making it impossible to learn their placement. So she walked through the dark.

“I asked if you had fun, Dove,” 

His voice came out soft, at least softer than expected which almost made her gasp in a way. Her eyes flickered up, meeting his cold gaze. His eyes never seemed to lose the ice, but every now and then the blizzard seemed more gentle. She looked at him for a moment, her eyes wide, moving around his features.

“Yes, it was a.. A great day.”

He leaned forward, moving a bit closer with a sigh. 

“It makes me sad that you don’t listen, Dove.” He started off, making her feel bad. “But I'm willing to forgive you, yeah? You didn’t mean to be bad after all.” His voice was soothing, smooth like butter, to which she nodded eagerly, also leaning forward, subconsciously wanting to please him.

“Yes, I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry,”

The corner of his mouth twitched again.

“I know you are,” He sighed, letting his gaze drop onto her body. Slowly moving lower till the desk blocked his view on the rest. “You will start coming to my office again. Spending time with Mr. Shelby,” The words would suggest it was a suggestion, but his voice absolutely proved to her it wasn’t one. He told her what would be happening from now on, and she had to listen. Y/N remained quiet for a bit before clearing her throat.

“Okay” She mumbled in her typical manner. His gaze was making her feel almost naked despite the appropriate clothing she wore. Instinctively she covered herself a bit more, almost making him groan.

The little things she was doing. The pink blush dusting her cheeks as she squeezed her thighs together, along with the innocent body language caused the familiar stirring in his core again. Thomas sighed, feeling as his manhood grew in his briefs and skin became hot. Breathing a little deeper, he leaned back. 

Tension in the room thickened as the shame coated her mind at the way he looked at her. 

Getting up abruptly, she moved behind the armchair.

“I will.. Go to sleep. I’ll come to your office tomorrow, I promise.” Y/N stuttered out as she started walking back towards the door. Thomas tilted his head up, watching as her hips swayed as she walked. Letting out a deep breath he nodded, tutting.

“Y/N” He stopped her in a raspy voice, but she didn’t turn around to meet his gaze. “Don’t forget to take your bags from the living room,” Thomas added, picking up the still lit cigarette, as he threw it into the fireplace. She just nodded, twisting the doorknob as she left.

Thomas stared at the dark wood of the door, as his fingers wrapped around the soft material in his pocket. Soft, pink lace.

He could say a lot about Y/N, but he had to admit she had a good taste in the lingerie she bought. 

@mrsnms @randomcreator-09 @omgsuperstarg @hatethis29 @usaguisenpaisblog @priyajoyy @vanessyyyu @hottestgirlintheworld @iilovedonnatartt @hagarsays

[monimccoythings]

Dad Bod

I'm planning to write a few domestic short scenes of Old man Logan and his little family. Been craving for some domestic settings and head canons. I'm trying to make the reader as gender neutral and POC friendly as possible, so everyone can enjoy these little snippets.

Logan has put on a bit more weight in his later years. It's enough to be noticeable, domestic life fits him like a glove. A life without fighting and filled with homemade meals, has turned a lone wolf into a family man. And that kind of life always has some sort of side effects.

He would never admit it out loud, but he feels a bit of shame when he looks at himself in the mirror, his chiseled pecs and well defined abs have been replaced with a barrelled chest and a belly that strains against his belt. It was another reminder that he was way past his prime. And old useless man, too broken and too good for nothing.

If only he could get through his thick adamantium skull that you would love him in any form and shape. Doesn't matter what he looks like, he is still a Greek God to you, the hottest man you have ever met.

He drove you wild when he was buff, but now that he has a dad bod, he makes you straight up feral. Just feeling his weight and his body pressing against you when he pounds at you from behind, or just sitting on top to ride him were honestly a blessing from heaven.

You make sure to remind him every time, not with words, because you know he won't fully believe you, but with actions. The way you worship his body, kissing, sucking, caressing it with a reverence more fitting of a masterpiece. What could you say, he was a work of art.

You marvel in the softness of his body, how cushiony and warm he is; in the raw strength cursing through his big arms when he lifts you effortlessly like you weigh nothing.

He's gorgeous, he is beautiful, he is your Logan and you wouldn't have him any other way.

[gangsteri-aine]

The Thrill of the Hunt

“Oh, I can't wait to watch your life fade from your beady little eyeballs,” Foolish says, the word wait sounds more like snap with the way Foolish's teeth clash together. His eyes flick around Bad’s face before returning to his eyes. “And I can’t wait to gaze into your beautiful gumdrop eyes while your giant muscular arms are ripping me apart,” Bad says as he takes half a step forward as he speaks and leans in closer. His tail swipes up from behind him and reaches to touch Foolish’s bicep. or; Bad is ready to hunted down

ao3

Bad has experienced several executions during his lifetime; as a witness, as an executioner and as the executionee. But he doesn’t think he has ever been as excited as he is for this one.

And he's not the only one. 

There is a crowd gathered below the castle stairs, anxiously waiting to see Bad die. Or “pay for his crimes” as they would say. 

It’s not the biggest crowd that has watched Bad be executed but it’s decent. A lot of people showed up.

And all of them don’t even want him dead! That’s slightly surprising. 

Pili is standing in the front crowd, his eyes keep jumping between Bad and the axe on Bad’s neck. He’s holding his own axe tightly in his paws, and Bad knows his inventory is filled with potions. He would fight for Bad which is nice. He didn’t seem to understand Bad’s eagerness for the execution.

Pili didn’t understand that the point wasn’t dying. It was what came before that.

Up on top of the stairs, Bad is standing with his back straight and tail calmy swishing back and forth. Every once in a while, it hits Sneeg’s ankle. The first time Bad’s tail touched him, Sneeg got startled enough to jump a little but every time after that he just scowled at Bad and tightened his hold on his battleaxe. That’s boring, Bad thought his jumpiness was funny. 

On the other hand it’s probably good that Sneeg isn’t that jumpy. It would be a shame if Bad got executed before it was the right time. You see, Sneeg’s axe had been steadily placed against Bad’s neck ever since they climbed up the castle stairs. 

Owen is standing on the other side of Sneeg. His axe is not pointed towards Bad at the moment; he's too focused on following Foolish’s movements as he readies himself for his speech.

Speaking of the only reason Bad hasn’t started running yet; Foolish looks magnificent in his hunting outfit. It perfectly matches his emerald eyes and highlights his strong arms. In Bad’s opinion, it’s one of the best outfits Foolish has ever worn in one of Bad’s executions. 

He is standing a bit further away on Bad’s other side, against Ros’ wishes. She would have wanted Sneeg to stand between them for Foolish's safety but Foolish had waved off the idea. According to him he wanted to show his beloved subjects that he wasn't afraid of Bad, that he was in control of the situation. But Bad knows that Foolish wanted him to stand there for other reasons. The same reasons why Bad would have chosen to stand there himself.

He wanted to be close to Bad. 

But this wasn’t close enough, there were still several feet between them. Much too much space. 

“Hello my dear friends!” Foolish yells. The king's speech has officially started. Bad can’t wait for it to end. Everyone below them in the crowd quiets down and nervously moves their attention to their king. "Welcome, everyone, to our first official execution Monday!" 

Foolish pauses as if to wait for applause and cheering to stop. In reality, only Ros and Tango let out a delighted whoops and cheers. Most of the other people clap their hands unenthusiastically; they seem confused. Maybe this is their first execution, they will understand the thrill and excitement later.

Foolish doesn’t let the awkwardness of the crowd bother him. Instead, he turns his body slightly towards Bad as if to address him but he’s still speaking to everyone around them. His attention is still mostly on his subjects and Bad doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like sharing Foolish. That attention is supposed to be on him. 

"Bad, you have mercilessly murdered-"

"Not murdered. They were all accidents," Bad helpfully points out tilts his head towards Foolish. 

Foolish pauses his speech and narrows his eyes. Bad can’t help but to smile at his annoyance. Excellent, Bad has his attention now. 

"Fine. You have accidently but mercilessly slaughtered numerous people and have been sentenced by court to death via a royal hunt." Foolish rolls his ‘r’ on the word royal and waves his arms upwards as if he’s imagining a title screen for Bad’s death. 

The crowd below them lets out a surprised gasp. Bad doesn’t know how many of them actually knew what kind of execution they came here to watch. 

Also, there is no court. At least not one that ruled this death sentence; Foolish came up with the idea a week ago and proposed it Bad. He was almost more excited about it than Foolish was. He even gave Foolish a couple of ideas on how to make the execution into a real spectacle. 

“You now have a chance to say your last words,” Foolish drops his 'speaking to the public' voice and steps closer to Bad. “Maybe start by apologizing for murdering your king. Maybe that will help you to get closer to Heaven.”

Bad almost laughs, Foolish would never even entertain the idea of Bad getting back to Heaven. To him, Bad has always been a demon.

“I,” Bad starts before turning to look deep into Foolish's shining emerald eyes. He can feel the anticipation emanating from the crowd, and Sneeg's axe follows his movement, “have done nothing wrong.”

Foolish tilts his head upwards and lets out an exasperated noise of frustration. And he's not the only one, many of the people watching, waiting for him to be hunted down, let out annoyed yelps. Next to him, Sneeg rolls his eyes and lets out a huff.

With Sneeg’s focus broken, Bad doesn’t miss a beat to side step his battleaxe and take a long stride towards Foolish. 

There is panicked shuffling around them. Sneeg, no doubt, rushing after him and other members of the kingdom pulling out their weapons. 

But no one manages to do anything to stop him before he's face to face with Foolish. That’s what you get by not training your guards properly. Kingdom full of fools, truly.

Foolish doesn’t move. He doesn’t even flinch. 

There is only a foot between them now. Bad still wants to be closer. 

He locks eyes with Foolish and sees the same hatred he feels. The same wanting. The same... something else. Even after all these years they have never managed to name that feeling.

Foolish waves his hand and all movement around them stops. Bad can feel everyone watching them but he doesn’t care. Foolish’s eyes are on him. That’s all that matters. 

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Bad repeats, his voice lowered this time. 

“Just admit you fucked up, you scumbag!” Foolish spats out and leans a little closer. His eyes are flashing in a way that tells Bad that he has also forgotten everyone else around them; that he’s ready for the hunt to start.

The hidden excitement in Foolish’s eyes almost makes Bad smile but he forces his face to morph into an expression that can only be described as a pout. He can’t let Foolish see that easily how happy Bad is about this. That’s not how this works. “Language.”

Foolish rolls his eyes but they quickly return to Bad's face. Like he physically can’t look away for longer than he has to. 

“Oh, I can't wait to watch your life fade from your beady little eyeballs,” Foolish says, the word wait sounds more like snap with the way Foolish's teeth clash together. His eyes flick around Bad’s face before returning to his eyes.

“And I can’t wait to gaze into your beautiful gumdrop eyes while your giant muscular arms are ripping me apart,” Bad says as he takes half a step forward as he speaks and leans in closer. His tail swipes up from behind him and reaches to touch Foolish’s bicep.

Surprisingly, Foolish doesn’t slap his tail away. Instead, he lets it rest on his arm. 

Bad can't tell whether everyone around them has gone deadly quiet or if his ears have just decided that nothing apart from Foolish matters. Which is true. Nothing else matters right now. 

“You,” Foolish starts as he in turn leans in closer to Bad. Bad knows Foolish is not doing it deliberately; he never really thinks when they are like this. And neither does Bad, he just does what feels right in the moment. Their noses are almost touching now. “are a freak.”

Bad can’t stop the excited grin spreading on his face “Don’t act like you don’t want that too.”

Foolish doesn’t answer but there is a small smile tugging on his lips. 

“Never in a million years,” Foolish says and lets the smile take over his face. Bad feels his own grin widen. 

“I can’t wait for you to hunt me down,” Bad mumbles. They are close enough that Foolish definitely feels Bad’s breath on his face. 

“Then start running,” Foolish snarls, his sharp shark teeth shine in the setting sun.

Bad tilts his head a little to the side, bumping their noses together. He doesn’t need to look at Foolish to know his eyes flick down for a fraction of a second. Before Foolish can move or say anything else, Bad quickly whips around and lets his tail smack Foolish in the face. 

Foolish lets out a surprised yelp but Bad can’t stay to laugh at his expression. 

“You motherfucker! That was my royal nose!” Foolish yells after him as he sprints down the castle stairs. 

Everyone in the crowd below the stairs was staring up at them with shocked expressions. None of them recover from the sudden turn of the events fast enough to do anything to stop Bad. He’s able to run through the crowd without any issues as Foolish yells insults after him from the top of the stairs. 

After getting a safe distance away from the crowd, Bad turns to glance behind him. 

Foolish has stopped yelling and is now standing on top of the castle stairs with his bow in hand. He’s ready to mark Bad as his property, as his target to hunt. Ready officially start the hunt.

A smile spreads across Bad’s face; some would call it creepy, others full on insane. Bad doesn’t think it’s either. It’s simply the smile that represents the feeling he gets when he knows Foolish is going to be after him. Foolish is going to be after him and he’s not going to stop before one of them is dead. And neither is Bad. 

It's going to be a good hunt.

[aramynx]

SWEET BERRY WINE & COURAGE

IZUKU MIDORIYA X READER

summary: you get the chance to reconnect with izuku a few years after graduation at a new years party, and a few glasses of wine bring you to spark up a conversation…

a/n: we a little late with this one but i hope you guys enjoy! i left izuku out of my christmas fics so he’s getting the new years special all to himself >:3

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

You were starting to feel a headache coming on- this heroes party had been going on for way too long and the noise was finally starting to get to you after five hours of being surrounded by people. Thankfully, this was a press-free event, so at least you didn’t have the paparazzi forcing a camera in front of you at every waking moment. You had already spoken to most people, everyone had dawdled back off into groups they were familiar with, so you ended up sitting among your classmates from your UA days. The wine you were drinking was only a stronger red, smelling and tasting like berries.

You listened to their conversation, not really paying much mind to what they were saying as your eyes scanned the room, finger lightly tracing the rim of your wine glass. They decided to settle on a familiar head of green hair standing in front of the near empty buffet table. Hastily you stood up from your place at the end of the table and made your way over. Regrettably, you and Izuku hadn’t been as close as you had hoped back in high school, and slowly lost touch over the past couple of years with life getting in the way- now would be a good time to catch up, since he was currently by himself, looking handsome in a neatly pressed black suit, accompanied by the classic red shoes, of course.

“Hey Izuku! Long time no see.” You said rather loudly as you approached him with a wave, “You look great tonight! How have you been?”

“Y/N!” Izuku smiled back. That big, beautiful, beaming smile that hadn’t changed one bit since the first time you saw it, still full of hope and happiness, “Thank you, I’ve been good- just really busy, you know?”

Izuku didn’t get nervous to the extent that he used to anymore, although he was still pretty easy to fluster, and his face would still turn completely when he blushed.

“You look good too, by the way.” He said, smiling as he looked you up and down, admiring how wonderful you looked in your chosen outfit, and how the colour complimented you perfectly.

“How’s your agency?”

A long conversation led to the two of you standing away from the bustle of the people in the crowds, in front of a large window overlooking the dark city, illuminated by the dull glow of apartment windows. One thing led to another and before you knew it you were casually chatting about the people you both knew and who had ended up in relationships.

“I had no idea they were together, that makes sense though.” Izuku said, chuckling slightly.

“Yup. Anyway, have you found a partner?”

“Oh! Uh- no, I haven’t.” He admitted, “I’ve been on a few uh- awkward dates here and there but they didn’t work out.”

He scratched the back of his head, averting his eyes from yours. He was a little ashamed to admit that he was struggling to get into a relationship, but it wasn’t that big of a deal to him. You smiled sympathetically, knowing he was a pretty awkward person and that wasn’t likely to change any time soon.

“You know…” You started, confidence spilling out of your mouth more than you’d like it to, “I used to have a crush on you in high school.”

“Wait really? I had no idea!” He said in surprise, face tinting red as the reality of your words set in. Sure it was a few years ago now, but his head was conjuring up ideas of what could have been, if only he had the courage to ask you out back then, “I felt the same way back then as well, it’s a shame we didn’t get closer than we were, huh?”

Despite trying to hide his sprawling thoughts with a calm and collected confession, Izuku merely came across as more nervous than before, stuttering a little as he told you. You noticed that people were rushing into the centre of the room for the countdown to midnight, when suddenly the wine in your system gave you an idea.

“Do you want to know who I have a crush on now?” You smiled mischievously stepping ever so slightly closer to him, “He’s a pro hero, name starts with ‘D’.”

“Is that so?” Izuku asked curiously, his heart skipping beats as you were suddenly very close in his proximity.

“… and it ends with e-k-u…” You whispered, listening as people began to count down from 30 as the clock ticked into the new year.

Izuku’s mind quickly processed what you had just said, blushing hard as the gap between your lips narrowed, meeting gently as the year rolled over into the next. The sounds of fireworks outside aligned with the sparks in his stomach as you kissed, his mind quieting for a moment. Your arm found its way around his neck, resting gently on his shoulder, his arm reaching around you to place a hand carefully on your lower back to pull you in closer. As your lips remained pressed against each other for just a moment longer before pulling away, eyes locking into a shared, delighted and surprised trance as cheers began to erupt from the crowd.

“Happy New Year!”

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Winter special!

Sorry this took so long, my phone decided typing wasn’t a thing it could do anymore and my brother is too nosy for me to write on my laptop.

As always: GN!Reader, Pre-established relationships, Tooth rotting fluff

Characters: Wars + Wind, Legend, Four & Time

Part one Next part (to be continued)

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Wars + Wind

Winter traditions weren’t the same on Outset. It didn’t snow on the island, just as it hadn’t for the many years that came before. Warm waves frothed as they lapped against golden sands. The only cool thing was a slight breeze, which combed through the palm trees.

Wind knew it wouldn’t snow. But still, he found himself longing for the cozy days inside by the fire and the occasionally reckless days spent in the flurries of snow.

Even as you investigated his pouty lip and unusual quietness, he couldn’t bring himself to feel better. He couldn’t quite understand it. Logically, he knew it wouldn’t snow. Still, he found himself disappointed with the outcome.

“I just-“ He sighed, shrugging noncommittally, “It doesn’t feel like winter… It’s the same as it’s always been, but I-“ He shakes his head and turns away from the window.

“Don’t worry, i’ll shove you in a pile of snow when we get back to my Hyrule” The captain smirked, leaning against the door. You managed to throw him a soft glare over your shoulder as Wind grumbled (read: shouted) something threatening in return.

Oh how you yearned to see the two pelt each other with snowballs. Truly, it’d be amusing. Shame sand can’t hold its shape that well being thrown.

The two pause their exchange of school ground taunts at the sight of your pure and utter delight.

“I think we broke them” The sailor side eyes his brother, concerned. Wars inspects you from his side of the room before walking over. He grabs each side of your face to examine you further. His hands are warm. Comforting. Secure.

“If you kiss them i’m going to throw up” Wind’s face is contorted into something of a judgemental scowl, comical on his face. You both scatter off each other, garnering a fitting amount of cackles from the youngest hero. You grab him while he’s distracted, managing to tug both him and warriors outside in a fit of confusion and voice cracking shrieks. In fact, you drag them the entire way through outset and to the beach.

“Alright, C’mon you both. We’re making snowmen” Your victory is short lived.

“Really, hun? And how’d you suppose we do that” sassed by your own boyfriend… wow.

“Sandmen. You get my point” You roll your eyes and start gathering damp sand into a mound like shape. It

“Don’t just sit there, you were the one down in the dumps” You lovingly jab at Wind, who cracks a grin and gets to work adding sand to the lumpy collection of the body.

Between the three of you it was easy enough work, save for trying to stay out of the tide and avoid stepping on any sharp rocks.

In just over an hour, a sandman had formed. Adorned with little shell eyes and mouth, draped with seaweed and driftwood for arms, your sandman stood proud against the sea. The three of you sprawled out on the sand, basking in the waning warmth of the sun as it set. The sky was full of vibrant oranges and yellows, the sea waved the same colors back. Your stomach hurt from laughing, your arms were sore from wrestling the stiff sand. Your fingers interlaced with War’s, Wind half laid over you. The whole scene was magical.

Quietly, Wind was thankful. Not many people on his small island quite understood him. Not even himself. The weather was great, and yet he still felt sad. But with his two parents, he felt understood. Cared for. Loved. And that’s what winter was about, he supposed.

Legend

It was, however, really goddamn cold in Legend’s Hyrule. Snow, crystalline and white was packed thickly up to your knees, making any movement a challenge. The wind blew through you and scattered loose bits of snow on top. The rows and rows of apple trees are barren, and looked to have been for quite some time.

When you both finally managed to make it home, you practically fell into the doorway. But alas, it was cold inside too.

The cluttered home certainly did well to lift your spirits, but did little in preventing the onset of hypothermia.

“Hey” Leg’s voice pulled you from shivering. He sounded soft, warm in his regard despite the many times you heard him curse out the weather.

“I’ll see if I have anything here to help keep us warm, it’s usually not this bad” He smiles, wincing slightly as he flexes his hands. You knew even if he did manage to find some cloak or enchanted jewellery stashed away in the depth of his house, it would do little to soothe his aching joints. However, you knew no matter what you said, no one could get the vet to sit still for ten minutes while you tried to light a fire. Hylia herself could order him to sit down and wait, but you knew he’d never listen. It just wasn’t the person he was.

“Just- be careful, ok? Don’t overdo it. I’ll try to start a fire in the meantime” He nods, redirecting his familiar determination mixed with spite towards finding something to warm you both up.

You yourself began gathering wood from various places around the house to light a fire. Apparently, you’d forgotten that the wood you intended to burn should go next to the place you burn it. You were ever so in love with your past self, at the moment

Trips to the kitchen, paddock and small forger rewarded you with just enough wood to start a hearty fire going. It cast patterns on the wall, meeting and reflecting on the many weapons, souvenirs, paintings, photos and other such trinkets which lie mounted on the walls or placed onto shelves. It was comforting. Calm. A serene feeling of warmth, both literal and metaphorical washed over you.

Swift steps echoed through the house as your beloved pink-haired hero returned, blankets and cloaks gathered in a massive mound in his arms. They hit the ground with a soft whoosh, Legend grinning, proud he’d completed his task. He sits down, bracing himself on the fireplace and the floor, a pained look passing his face. Brows furrowed, teeth bared as his mouth pulled into a wince, it wasn’t what you wanted for him. The cold months made everything with his joints hurt worse. Even if he wore all his braces, used all his salves, worked an adequate time, the cold pierced through him.

“C’mere” You pat the floor in front of you and assist him as he shuffles over. Your hands cup each cold, pink cheek, thumbs brushing over their blushed surface. He melts into you, his eyes closing in comfort and contentment for one of the first times in his life. Your hands slide back to weave through his hair, delicately setting his hat off to the side. Wordlessly, you press him forward to lean against your chest, scratching his scalp and whispering soft assurances. His ears flush and wiggle, his head is tucked away in the crook of your neck.

Finally, you lean back, laying down on the floor. You drape the heavy collection of blankets, cloaks and quilts over you and he resigns to his fate. He’s a little achy, but finally he can settle.

“There we go, you can rest” Your voice regards him softer than anyone else has before. It cradles even the most pained parts of himself. From the scared child he started his journies as, to the paranoid hero who was constantly hunted, to the jaded man he grew to be, you placated him. He was never built to be so soft. He smiles, grateful you can’t see his giddy lovestruck face and tease him over it— let alone make it worse. It was dangerous to be this soft. And yet he’s never felt so safe. For the first time in a long time he feels like he can relax. There’s nothing else to do than lay here with you.

Four

But the harsh winter chill didn’t invade the fire-warmed forge. Hot fire burned in the furnace, settling a cozy orange haze across the metal surfaces of anvils, swords and well-used work tables. The light scattered, making abstract patterns on the walls and catching on fine strands of gold as a ringed hand tucks the hair behind his pointed ear.

Four was well accustomed to making things — whether it be for commissions or as gifts.

Yet, he never had so much trouble as he did this time. Something about the self-imposed stress of perfection or the fact that it was for you, someone he treasured so deeply, made the task of making your gift so difficult. It seemed no matter what he drew up, no matter at what angle he approached, no matter what style he emulated, nothing felt quite right.

“Too little” A brash voice would complain, “Something so simple- it’s as if we don’t even love them.”

And so he’d tear the page and start again.

“Too much” A colder voice critiqued, “It’s hardly practical for them”

And so he’d pick up his pencils and start another sketch.

“It’s just-“ A softer voice tried several times to rephrase before landing on his words, “Not them. It’s not a bad gift, not at all. Just not one right for them.”

And after a moment of hesitation, he nods and begins once more.

“It’s not your fault” The surest voice of the four finally speaks up in the middle of his newest sketch. Four sighs and allows himself to separate himself from his work for a moment. Papers are strewn about, odd markings in coloured pencil are scribbled across each design. The distinct handwritings overlap and splay out from one another where each and every one of his opinions dieviated.

Anger doesn’t find him, too burnt out for the fire to find its fuel.

His hand knots itself in his hair, tiredness gripping him finally. He’s about to shake it off and return to his work, to draw until his hand is cramped and his mind exhausted, but he’s stopped by a shuffling just outside the door.

“Link?” Your familiar voice calls quietly, not wishing to intrude on whatever breakdown you intruded on.

Almost shamefully he turns to face you, hunched over and afraid of what you’ll say.

“Why are you still up? Why are you still working- it’s been the whole day!” Your tone holds no real bite, though he can sense disappointment.

“I was just finishing up orders for-“ Your voice cuts him off before he can finish the lie.

“Oh shush. The only thing you’ll be doing is getting into bed and not waking up till noon” It’d be so easy to release himself from your soft grip on his upper arm.

Mentally, it feels impossible.

There’s quiet insistence— hope, even, that he’ll follow along. And he lets himself be dragged out.

“Besides,” The calm voice of his inner self rings out, “You’ll find good inspiration eventually” He smiled, suppressing a laugh. Lest you turn around and ask him what’s so funny. It’s nothing, truly —he’d say— just that he figured out his newest project. A ring.

Time

The coziness of winter didn’t seem to trickle through the whole chain, though. For, the Hero of Time himself was far too busy fulfilling the role of being elderly. Time travel paradoxes aside, Time had spent the first two weeks of the early winter season in bed.

His own stubborn ethic would normally call him to work until he dropped dead, so long as the jobs were done by the end of the day. But between his heavy limbs, dizzy mind and weak muscles, it seemed as if he had no choice. He huffed after finally sitting up, legs swung over the side of the bed.

The room felt excruciatingly cold, every uncovered piece of skin attacked by the frosty hands of winter herself. As he finally managed to stand, fatigue settled over him in a heavy blanket.

It was odd, he thought. Several times he’s lost so much blood he could’ve sworn he died. He was so familiar with the feeling. With pushing past it. But now? Now he couldn’t move? He’d laugh if his lungs could spare the air.

He was forced to lean on anything nearby in order to keep himself shuffling forward. Dressers, doors, tables, chairs… It didn’t matter so long as they helped him reach his goal. Admittedly, though, he did linger by the fire, given it was the only moment he didn’t feel like the chill of the dead season had settled in his bones.

After what felt like ages of fridged shuffles, he made it to the other side of his small cottage. The island provided him a place to sit, and the kitchen provided warmth as stew bubbles away on the stove.

“Link! What are you-“ You move quickly to scold him for leaving bed, a crime he committed quite frequently, but paused upon seeing him squint

“Sorry” Your sweet apology is better than any medicine to him. He can already feel the warmth returning to his chest.

…Maybe that isn’t a good thing considering his fever.

“Go lie down,” He opens his mouth to argue with your concerns “I know you’re hungry and your fever is coming back up,” Oh, is that why your hands were on his cheeks? “But you’ll get more medicine after you eat, ok? I’ll be done soon” He feels himself deflate and lean forward into you, resting his heavy head into the crook of your neck. It feels perfectly carved to his face.

“Miss you” He rasps, his own voice unfamiliar. It’s gravelly and almost hard to make out with how slow and slurred he seems to talk

“I know, I know” You sigh, finally resting back into him, leaning him upright. Your hand massages his back, where his tunic is just slightly stuck to his skin.

He takes a deep breath. It feels like his lungs don’t absorb any of it.

You lean back on your heels to tend to the stew and he feels your hands tugging him with you. As eagerly as he can, he stands, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin atop your head.

“No- C’mon, back to bed” You huff in amusement at his loopy affection, to which he takes great offense

“But I don’t want to” He sighs heavily in response, leaving himself to be dead weight if you don’t start agreeing soon.

“I want to stay out here, with you” He offers finally, after a stretch of silence. His torso rises and falls with the deep breath you take.

“Fine. But you’ll lay down and take a nap when you’re done eating.” He grins, tightening his grip ever so slightly.

Sure, some part of him would always nag to be productive, even at his own detriment. But having you to care for him after so long of being neglected by the world was too much a luxury for him to pass up. He could suffer another nap or two.

[yandere-wishes]

「✦ S n o w W h i t e ✦ 」

⋆｡‧˚ʚ Yandere! Roman Sionis x Snow White! Reader ɞ˚‧｡⋆

⋆.˚✮𝐹𝒶𝒾𝓇𝓎 𝒯𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝒜𝒰✮˚.⋆

Thinking about Yandere! Roman Sionis in a Snow White AU. Thinking about him being the evil queen/king who wants to poison poor little snow white.

✦•┈┈┈๑⋅⋯❦︎⋯⋅๑┈┈┈•✦

❦ ︎ Y a n d e re ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n whose face is permanently bound to a black mask, whose wicked soul has bled into his physical form. Forever cursed by the dark arts to bear his sins to the world. Who locks himself inside his chambers in the castle's highest tower. Paranoia gnawing at his hardened flesh, he knows the kingdom hates him, he knows they want to savor his blood upon their tongues.

❦ ︎ Y a n d e re ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n whose only companion is a magic mirror, one side whole, one side shattered, he can't quite remember if he's at fault for that. A magic mirror who tells him everything. Evil King! Roman whose paranoia drives him to ask, again and again, who the people rever, whom they worship as their king, who is it that the people admire. Who is the fairest in all the land? It's always him, the mirror says. Tyrant king, intoxicated by his own power. The damsels still yearn for him, the noblemen still fall at his feet.

❦ ︎ Y a n d er e ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n who 's appalled that one day, one grim dark day. The mirror doesn't utter his name, it sings about the princess, the last remnant of the old monarchy that Roman had crushed. The precious daughter of the weak king and queen of old. She is the fairest, in grace and in face. The maiden who sings to the birds and whose musk awakens the flowers. Whose smile puts the sun to shame and whose eyes sparkle brightest. She will be his downfall, the mirror says, the people dream of the fair maiden superseding their potentate masked king. Dream of replacing tyranny with benevolence, of trading secrecy for candor.

❦ ︎ Y a n d er e ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n whose face is forever ruined and so he refuses to allow the starry-eyed little princess to be the fairest in the land. Envy and paranoia both sink their ragged teeth into his heart as he gazes down from his window. Bearing witness to the fair maiden singing by the well as she hugs a little rabbit to her chest so tenderly. He knows she has to die, he refuses to be bested by a little girl.

❦ ︎ Y a n d er e ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n who toils day and night, mixing the deadliest of poisons with the vilest chemicals. Smearing his potion upon a ripe red apple. Your essence flashes across his mind, perfect lips drawn into a cheerful smile. For a second he envisions them caught between his teeth, your tiny body withers beneath him, eyes wide as you gaze up at him in adore and abhor. It's the bright red of the apple that shakes away such visions. The lethal red eagerly awaits to be pierced by your pearly white teeth.

❦ ︎ Y a n de r e ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n who's always harbored a demented little crush on the naive little princess his kingdom still reveres, who always dreamed of harshly ringing his fingers across your face, of having you kneel between his thighs and kiss his rings. Who's had many a sleepless night dreaming of turning you into his perfect little toy. And maybe this apple is a love letter as much as it is a dagger to the heart. After all, what is a poison apple if not love twisted into malice, painted by ruby ​​​​​​glass shards and laced with sweet sweet detest? What is a poison apple if not a confession?

❦ ︎ Y a n d e re ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n who pushes sweet candy apples between your teeth forcing you to take a bit. Whose body is dangerously close to yours, fingers digging into the delicate soft flesh of your hips, laying bruises upon the bones. You're kinda cute like this, Roman thinks, wide eyes, terrified, and yet all so trusting. Like nothing in the world would ever dare harm a soul as sweet as yours. You melt under his touch, desperately clinging to pretenses and formalities, far too shy to deny your king.

❦ ︎ Y a n d e re ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n who catches your body as it collapses, who watches as the poison dances across your face, dazed eyes hooded, forever closed. He takes a moment to appreciate this, you between his arms, lethargic and vulnerable just like a little doll. He carries you outside the castle, declares to the guards that 'someone' has poisoned the princess, declares that a public funeral shall be held. All while trying to hide his smug grin.

❦ ︎ Y a n d er e ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n, who only realizes how truly gorgeous you are when you're laying dead in your glass coffins marveled and exalted by all the weeping kingdom of Gotham. How dare they look at you, how dare they fawn over what's his. How dare they dream of what belongs to him. Ethereal beauty sprawled out among the red cushions entrapped forever in glass. How did he miss it? You may be the fairest but it was never you that he envied. He wanted you, needed you. It was the kingdom he was jealous of, the peasants or faux-faced nobles who fawned and swooned over you. Those who stole you away, those who made him hate you for far too long.

❦ ︎ Y a n d er e ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n who listens as the people mutter about 'a prince', about 'true love'. They're too stubborn to let you die . Too hopeful to admit they've lost to the king. After all, they do say love is blind. Roman just hopes the village boys don't start lining up to kiss you. Clinging to frivolous hope that they are the one.

❦ ︎ Y a n d e re ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n who never knew he would miss the thorn in his side. Who uses black magic and forbidden sorcery to reawaken you. Inhales the smoke and kisses you push it past your lips and down your lungs. Who makes the crowd watch in the dead of night as he "saves you", declaring himself the princess's "true love". Later in the castle, he pulls you aside, "Be grateful" he warns "I could have left you for dead". You're too dazed to speak, swallowing the words as they blossom on your tongue. 'I preferred being dead' you almost long to say.

❦ ︎ Y a n d e re ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n who only now registers that you are his princess, his doll, the fairest of them all can only belong to him. You're not quite alive, not quite dead either. Clinging to Roman sitting pretty on his lap as he rules over all those poor unfortunate souls. Day by day your eyes grow more vacant, empty, all the stars have almost died out. Your only thoughts are of him, only of him, to you he's the fairest in all the land. Your one true love. The man who saved you from your eternal slumber.

❦ ︎ Y a n d e re ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n who kisses you like he's trying to conquer what little of you is left, who bites at your flesh as if he were eating an apple . He relishes in the way your plush lips kiss across his shoulders and neck and masked face. Who can't get enough of his little princess.

❦ ︎ Y a n d er e ! E v i l K i n g ! R o m a n who still feeds you poisoned apples and watches as your mind grows numb and your body taut. Who enjoys having you so scared and mindless, hugging him close as if he were your prince charming...

🎀I kinda love the DC x Fairly Tale AU idea. And to think it all came from a quick nap lol. Let me know if you guys want more of these. I'm thinking of a Little Red Riding Hood au with Jason Todd and desperately need a fairy tale for Harvey Dent!!

🎀@d3athmaskd1v1n3 @fancyfeathers @yandere-writer-momo

[cjlouwho]

I Like the Taste of Vanilla

Little warning (and spoiler): there's a lot of pee talk here, but pee only ever hits the toilet, so no kink actually occurs. read below or on ao3

Day 3: I'm Scared

As soon as his shift ended, Tommy checked his phone to see that he had one text from Evan.

Been missing you all day. Need you.

Tommy knew what that meant. He grinned, his pants already becoming a bit tighter.

Buck greeted him at the door. All smiles and dark, lust filled eyes.

As soon as Tommy shut the door, Buck was pressing him up against it. “Hi,” he whispered, leaning in and nibbling at Tommy's bottom lip.

“Mmm,” Tommy moaned. “Hi, Baby.”

Buck's hands slipped underneath the hem of Tommy's shirt, fingers scratching at his sides. “Missed you.”

Tommy smirked. “Really? Couldn't tell.” He pulled Buck in for another kiss, licking his way into Buck's mouth. Without letting go of one another, Tommy led Buck toward the bedroom. Buck, managing to nearly trip only once, only broke the kiss as they reached the bedroom door.

“Wait,” he said, hand to Tommy's chest. “Just... Just wait.”

He cracked the bedroom door open, enough to grab something off the dresser, and turned back to Tommy with a blindfold.

“Put this on.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Buck rolled his eyes playfully. “Here, I'll do it.”

As he put the blindfold on, Tommy could sense a slightly nervous energy from Buck. Breaths coming out a bit heavy, he let out a giggle as he finished tying it up.

He took Tommy's hands in his, shaky and sweaty. It was a little odd for Buck, who never seemed to be nervous when it came to sex, but Tommy figured he must've been having a little fun with himself before he got home.

Buck led Tommy into the bedroom, instructing him to sit once he reached the bed.

Which made an odd crinkling sound as he sat down.

“Uh, Evan-”

“Just... Just wait.” Buck let his hands go, placing them over his thighs. “Okay.” Tommy could hear Buck shuffling around, his head following the sounds. “Let me just-” he heard a zipper being undone, then the sound of pants falling to the floor. “Almost ready, I just need...” his voice trailed off and Tommy wondered what the hell was going on.

“If this is a strip tease I think I'm supposed to watch it,” he joked.

Buck just laughed nervously. “No. No, it's not. It's- hold on. Ugh!”

Tommy moved his hands from his thighs to rest on the bed, causing Buck to quickly yell, “No! Wait, don't!”

It was too late though. Tommy's felt the plastic beneath his fingers, his face scrunching in confusion. “Baby, what are you-”

“I told you to just hang on a second,” Buck huffed. “I'm trying, I just can't get it to work.” He groaned, and Tommy could safely say he was nowhere near being turned on anymore. “You know what, forget it!” Buck exclaimed. “Forget it!”

“Okay, I'm scared, Evan, and I'm taking this off.” Tommy pulled off the blindfold just in time to see Evan rushing into the bathroom and peeing. “What are you- Were you gonna pee on me?!” he exclaimed as the realization hit him.

“I can't do it!” Buck yelled back. “I just can't! I'm sorry.”

“Why would you be sorry for not peeing on me?!”

Buck sighed as he finished peeing. He flushed the toilet and washed his hands, then headed back into the bedroom. “Because you told me you wanted my pee on you,” he answered, grabbing his boxer briefs off the floor and slipping them back on.

Tommy stood, shaking his head. “I absolutely did not tell you that. Never, ever would I have told you that.”

“You absolutely did! The other morning you came into the bathroom while I was peeing and you started brushing your teeth and you looked over at me and wiggled your eyebrows and said you'd love to have that in your mouth.”

“I was talking about your dick! Why would I- Wait, you were gonna pee in my mouth?! Evan!”

“No kink shaming!” Buck scolded.

“I think in the privacy of our own home I can kink shame a little bit.” Tommy paused to take a deep breath, calming himself. “Babe, why wouldn't you come to me about this first and verify that's what I wanted before trying to piss in my mouth like I'm a urinal?”

“Because I was pretty sure the whole “I'd love to have that in my mouth” was verification.”

Remembering the odd sound from when he sat down, Tommy glanced back at the bed. “Did you put a plastic drop cloth over our bed so you could pee on me, Evan?”

“I wanted to be clean!”

“You didn't even have me take my clothes off.”

“I was nervous!” Buck whined. “I forgot.”

“I think... I think I'm gonna go make some dinner, and we're not going to discuss this until like five years from now, when it'll be funny.”

“Wait.” Buck reached out and grabbed onto Tommy's hand before he could get too far. “Are you mad at me?” he asked with a pout.

Tommy sighed, pulling Buck in for a chaste kiss. “Not mad,” he assured him, “because, thankfully, my mouth does not taste like the asparagus you ate last night.”

“Hey!” Buck yelled as Tommy made his way to the kitchen. “It hasn't been five years yet!”

“You almost pissed on me, Evan!” Tommy yelled back. “Five years starts at midnight.”

[ikkyfics]

Alexei Vronsky with a shy wife that can't defend herself? For example if a rude drunk man at a ball insults her and she just stays silent and gets embarrassed?

Tysm in advance if you write this :))

By Your Side

Alexei Vronsky x f!reader

Summary: You were sure you could handle it. Tonight, you would be the wife he deserved, the woman who could accompany him in a world made of calculated smiles, stunning dresses, and conversations punctuated by champagne glasses. However, reality had proven different. You needed to escape

Warnings: sensitive content, harassment, (a little bit of) violence

A/N: hey dear, I ended up getting a little carried away, I hope I didn't stray from the request - I hope you can enjoy reading <333

Masterlist

You were sure you could handle it. Since Alexei had taken your hand to cross the grand hall, murmuring reassuring words while the gazes turned towards you both, you kept repeating to yourself that it was just one night. A night to prove to yourself that you were worthy of him. Alexei was a man admired by all—a man of presence, a man with history. And you? You felt small, almost insignificant. But not tonight. Tonight, you would be the wife he deserved, the woman who could accompany him in a world made of calculated smiles, stunning dresses, and conversations punctuated by champagne glasses.

However, reality had proven different. The hall was suffocating, a cathedral of incessant murmurs and loud laughter that seemed to bounce off the golden walls. Women danced in dresses as voluminous as they were oppressive, and the men, in their uniforms and coats, moved like pieces on a chessboard. Every look seemed to evaluate you, every whisper sounded like a judgment.

You needed to escape it all, but you didn’t want to worry Alexei, and he seemed to be enjoying himself with his friends. So you decided to step away, just for a bit, you'd be back in the hall before anyone noticed your absence.

In the garden, the fresh air was an immediate relief. The stars shone like distant lamps in the dark sky, and the sound of the music was muffled by the high walls of the palace. You took a deep breath, feeling your lungs expand, but the knot in your chest didn’t loosen.

That’s when he appeared. You didn’t see him immediately, only hearing irregular footsteps on the gravel. You turned and found him stumbling toward you. Tall, disheveled, he seemed to have drunk more than he should have.

"Look who we have here," he said, his voice slurred and dripping with mockery. You tried to step back, your heart racing, but he was already too close.

"Excuse me, sir. I was just leaving." Your voice was low, almost inaudible.

He laughed, a harsh, unpleasant sound. "Excuse me? A woman like you apologizing? Don’t make me laugh."

You tried to walk around him, but he stretched his arm, blocking your path. "Where are you rushing off to? Don’t be so ungrateful. A man talks to you, and you want to run away?"

"Please, I need to go back to the ball." The tension in your voice was clear, and your trembling hands gripped the edge of your dress as if it could give you some control.

"Back to the ball?" He moved closer, his warm, alcohol-laced breath reaching you. "Why don’t you stay here and keep me company? Or do you think you’re above me? A whore like you should know her place."

The word cut like a knife, and you felt your face burn with shame. Fear froze your feet, and all you could do was shake your head, trying to pull away.

Before you could take another step, he grabbed your wrist, squeezing with unreasonable force, pulling a muffled cry of pain from you. Your heart felt like a stone falling freely, sinking deeper with each passing second as you futilely tried to break free. His grip was brutal, his fingers digging into your skin like claws, and his gaze was full of pure disdain.

"I told you to stay," he snarled, moving even closer. His hot breath hit your face, nauseating, and you tried to turn your head, but he held your wrist tighter, as if determined to keep you there forever.

"Please, sir..." Your voice came out almost inaudible, your eyes misting as you stared at the floor. Panic made your legs shake, your mind refused to function. You didn’t know what to do, how to escape.

He laughed, a cruel, cutting sound. "Sir? Now you want to be polite?" The sarcasm dripped from every word. He pulled you closer, forcing your body to press against his. "You think I don’t know what kind of woman you are? Married to a man like Vronsky, parading around, pretending to be something you’re not. I bet you’d love to have me between your legs." He hissed, filling the air around you with poison.

Your body froze. The tears you’d been holding back now threatened to fall. It wasn’t just the physical pain, but the humiliation, the shame that burned your skin like fire. You tried to pull your arm, but it was like it was trapped in a vise.

"Look at me!" He demanded, shaking your wrist with enough force to unbalance you. "You think you’re too good for this? Think you can just ignore me? I’ll teach you to respect a real man!"

Desperation overtook you. The air seemed to be leaving your lungs, and all that was left was a desperate wish to disappear. It was as if a fog had taken over your mind, making everything feel unreal. Stripping you of any reaction.

The man pulled you again, and the shock of the force ripped a sob from your lips. The world seemed small, reduced to that moment of terror. "A woman like you should know her place. Are you listening? I could..."

It was at that moment that a shadow crossed your vision. There was no warning. A firm hand grabbed the man’s shoulder, pulling him back with enough force to make him stumble. The sound of the impact was drowned out by the drunk man’s surprised scream.

Alexei.

He was there, and you had never seen him like that. His blue eyes, usually soft and filled with warmth, were now as cold as ice. His jaw was clenched, and his body radiated a fury that seemed impossible to contain.

You could barely breathe, still frozen in place, terror eating away at your strength. But then Alexei turned to you, his hardened eyes softening for a moment as they met yours. He took a step forward, completely ignoring the man who was now standing hesitantly.

Alexei's eyes quickly scanned you, taking in every detail. He saw the disheveled dress, strands of hair escaping from the intricate hairstyle. He saw the fresh tears on your face, and the way your hands trembled as you held the hem of your dress.

"Shh, my love," he said, his voice low and filled with a tenderness that contrasted with his rigid posture. He raised a hand, hesitant, as if afraid to touch you and worsen your fragility. "I'm here. You're safe now."

But then he saw it. The mark on your wrist. Red, ugly, beginning to turn into a bruise. His eyes immediately narrowed, and something inside him seemed to break.

"He hurt you." It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, a recognition that made his voice almost growl.

You tried to shake your head, the words trapped in your throat, but Alexei was no longer looking at you. He turned back to the man, now completely enraged. His hand still trembled slightly, not from fear, but from pure contained rage.

"You dared to touch my wife," he said, each word dripping with venom. He stepped forward, and the man instinctively recoiled. "You think you can insult and hurt someone who belongs to me?"

"It was an accident, sir," the drunk man tried to stutter, raising his hands in defense. "I didn't mean—"

"Shut up." Alexei moved forward, hitting the man directly on the chin with enough force to make him fall to the ground this time. "If you dare touch her again, I'll kill you. No law, no weapon, not even God himself will stop me."

The man on the ground seemed torn between panic and drunkenness before he got up and fled, but Alexei no longer paid him any attention. He turned back to you, his face still carrying the remnants of an almost uncontrollable fury, but his blue eyes, once so hard, were now desperate, searching for something in yours—a confirmation that you were okay, that nothing was wrong except for the marks on your wrist.

"I shouldn't have left you alone," he murmured, more to himself than to you, but the tone was bitter, filled with self-criticism. He raised his hands to touch your face, hesitating for a brief moment, as if afraid you'd pull away. But when you didn’t, he gently cupped your face, his thumbs wiping the tears that streamed down your cheeks.

"You’re shaking," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "Shh, my love... it’s over. I promise, it’s over."

You tried to respond, but your throat felt tight, unable to form words. All you could do was look at him, your eyes meeting his, and in that moment, you saw something you had never witnessed before: a mixture of fear and vulnerability hidden beneath all the protective anger.

Alexei took a deep breath, as if trying to gather control. He took your hand carefully, his eyes falling back to the mark on your wrist. His gaze darkened, and you could feel the tension in his body as he gritted his teeth, his jaw slightly trembling.

"He dared to touch you. Hurt you." His voice was low, almost a whisper, but laden with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "I should have..." He stopped, closing his eyes for a moment, as if battling words that couldn’t be spoken.

"Alexei..." Your voice came out weaker than you wanted, but it was enough to bring him back. He opened his eyes, and when they met yours, something in his expression softened.

"You’re not going back to that ball," he declared, with a firmness that allowed no argument. "Not after this." He squeezed your hand lightly, as if needing the contact to reassure himself that you were really there, by his side.

"But... what about the princess? What about you?" You finally managed to speak, though your voice was still trembling.

He shook his head. "Princess Betsy can wait, and I don't care what anyone in that ballroom thinks. The only thing that matters is you."

Before you could protest, he slid a hand to your waist, supporting you firmly. "Let’s get out of here," he said. "You need a quiet place, away from everyone. I won’t let you stay here for another second."

Alexei began to lead you away from the garden, each movement carefully controlled, but you could feel the tension still vibrating in him, as though at any moment he might explode again. He suddenly stopped, looking back in the direction where the drunk man had fled.

"I should have finished him," Alexei muttered under his breath, but you squeezed his hand, calling his attention back to you. He looked down, and the anger that had resurged slowly gave way to something more tender.

"Forgive me, my love. I should have been thinking of you." He sighed and resumed leading you away.

When you reached a carriage, he helped you inside, his care so evident it felt suffocating, but comforting at the same time. When you were finally settled, Alexei leaned in toward you, taking your hands again.

“You’re mine. My wife. My life.” The intensity in his voice made your chest tighten. “And I swear, as long as I breathe, no one will ever touch you like that again. I won’t allow it.”

He leaned forward, pressing his lips gently against the mark on your wrist, as if trying to erase the pain with that gesture. You felt the warmth of the kiss, and something inside you, once so small and frightened, began to unravel under the weight of his protection and love.

“You’re with me now,” he said, lifting his eyes to meet yours once more. “And while you’re with me, no one will hurt you. No one.”

You stared at him in silence, the weight of his words hanging between you like a solemn promise. Your fingers were still intertwined with his, and the warmth of his skin contrasted with the cold that seemed to have settled in your body since that man touched you.

It was as if your mind was lagging, slowly processing everything that had happened. The grabbing, the insults, Alexei’s anger, the way he intervened without hesitation. You blinked a few times, your eyes fixed on his, and finally, you found your voice, though it was barely a whisper.

“I… I was so scared.”

The confession slipped out before you could hold it back, your voice trembling with emotion. Your body began to shake again, as if now, away from immediate danger, the adrenaline had finally worn off.

“Shh,” Alexei murmured, leaning closer. He let go of your hands just to hold your face again, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. “I know. I know, my love. But it’s over. I’m here, and he can’t hurt you. Never again.”

You slowly shook your head, but the tears began to fall before you could control them. “I’m not strong enough, Alexei,” you whispered, shame tinging your voice. “I should have done something, I should’ve…”

“No.” He interrupted, his voice firm but still gentle. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. You did nothing wrong. Did you hear me?” He tilted his head, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. “None of this was your fault.”

You breathed deeply, trying to absorb his words, but the guilt still hovered over you like a shadow. “I just… I couldn’t react. I froze. It was like…” You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “It was like everything I am disappeared.”

His expression changed, a mixture of pain and tenderness filling his face. “My love,” he said, his voice as soft as a whisper. He sat beside you on the carriage bench, pulling you close. “Listen to me.”

He wrapped you in his arms, his warmth and strength surrounding you completely, like a cocoon of protection. You felt the steady rhythm of his heart against your cheek and closed your eyes, letting that familiar, comforting sensation anchor you.

“You’re everything to me,” he began, his voice low but full of raw emotion. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. You don’t have to fight all the battles on your own. That’s why I’m here. To protect you, to care for you. To be your strength when you can’t find yours.”

You stayed silent, absorbing his words, feeling the sincerity in each one. He continued, his hands gently caressing your back. “I know today was horrible, and I hate that it happened. But know this: you’ll never face something like this alone again. Not while I’m alive.”

Finally, you pulled away just enough to look at him. His eyes were still teary, but there was something more there now — a warmth that began to replace the cold.

“You always know what to say,” you murmured, your voice weak but sincere.

He smiled, a small, sad smile, as he ran his fingers gently through your disheveled hair. “It’s not about knowing what to say. It’s about you. You’re my wife, my heart, my life. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

You felt a lump in your throat, but this time, it wasn’t from fear or shame. It was something deeper, a recognition of the absolute and unconditional love he had for you.

“I love you,” you whispered, almost soundlessly, but he heard it.

Alexei tilted his head, pressing a firm, warm kiss to your forehead. “And I love you. More than anything in this world.”

The silence that followed was comfortable, filled with unspoken meanings. He kept holding you, as if the simple act of letting you go would be unbearable.

“Let’s go home,” he said finally, his voice soft but with unshakable determination. “You need rest, and I want you away from here. Tomorrow, we’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you never have to go through this again. But for now, I want you to feel safe. I want you to know I’m here.”

You nodded, allowing yourself to be guided by him once more. The weight of the night was still there, but in Alexei’s hands, you found some peace, knowing that with him, there would always be safety.