#And now I can’t stop thinking about it again
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nanami who has you impaled deep on his cock, hands restraining your tiny, quivery wrists.
you’ve been a bad girl.
fussing over the smallest inconsistencies throughout your day spent with your dearest fiance — having taken a day off to spend with his darling girl. but you’re a brat — there’s no doubt about it. nonetheless, it’s kento’s responsibility to put you back in your place, turn you back into the pliant, nice, and smart woman he knows you to be.
so when you begin to act indifferent than your usual self, slamming cabinets with a mean force and glaring off at your fiancé at his feeble attempts to comfort and confront you, he knows you’re feeling off.
and he knows it’s not your fault — you’re big on emotions but hefty weak when it comes to communication. so, he’ll just have to force it out of you.
so that’s how he forced you here — mindlessly bouncing atop his cock with your arms confined and pressed roughly against the concave of your back. your consistency is mindless, allowing your little pussy and those weak thighs of yours to think for you as your mushed little head spits out scenarios in order to calm your fiancé.
“do it correctly. i know you can.” the man grumbles, sitting himself up against the soft pillows with a rough readjusting to your sore wrists. they ache — having being pressed against eachother for nearly an hour, and your fiancé having no intention to release them any time soon.
you writhe in his grip, crying out his name with a soft whine as a peace offer for mercy, any mercy.
“correct your posture and straighten your thighs. like i taught you many times before. don’t tell me you forgot, darling.” he eyes you condescendingly, sighing with a disappointed demeanor that has you whimpering.
“y—yhes.. yes sir!” and you do just as he says, straightening your back and stretching out your legs. it takes you a weak couple of grinds before you manage to find a suiting pace — although slow but kento deems it acceptable.
“well done. now,” kento grunts, “tell me what’s gotten you so fussy today. will you?”
you huff, shaking your head softly with an adorable pout, increasing the speed of your pace in hopes to lose the man in his thoughts with your hips.
“now now,” kento warns, his free hand, the right one coming up to squeeze at your cheeks, his calloused thumb jabbing into your right dimple, the rest of his hand laying tight against your left. “we’re not about to play the guessing game.”
you squeak in pain, eyes closing shut which forces the previously bubbling tears to spill over your lash line.
“speak up, darling, or you won’t be cumming anytime soon. i can promise you that.” he growls — which is his last and final warning, an assertion of dominance you’ve only seen once long before.
“i—i—“
nanami removes his grip from your face, a contradicting thumb that comes to wipe at your tears so sweetly you might just cry again.
“wa—wan’ you to put a baby in m—me already,” you hiccup, “wan’a have your kids, k—ken.” finally, you crack.
nanami cums.
you squeak inevitably, not expecting the sudden fill in your womb, thick ropes of spent painting your walls white and filling your tummy. “o—oh shhh—shit.” nanami whines, cursing himself when he feels it leak against his tummy. your hips slow, meaning to stop, “no.. don’t stop. keeping going, l—love. until you can’t, for me.”
you nod shakily, hiccuping softly when you hear the man chuckle, leaning back against the headboard with a weary stare. “that’s it, doll? you’ve been so fussy, so mean all day just because you wanted me to breed this little w—womb? aw.” nanami coos, and you can’t help but feel the slightest bit embarrassed. you’re quick to pout again at his teasing, but your ploy is quickly shocked to failure when he presses harshly against the chub of your tummy — directly atop your womb.
“darling, you must communicate. how would i have known you’d ask of s—something so simple?”nanami stutters when you drop onto his lap, situating yourself tiredly onto him. “i just— ‘s-s embarrassing.” you whimper in response, lifting your head to receive a gentle kiss from the man.
kento’s quick to flip you over, quick enough that you don’t even notice your hot body against the cool sheets with your fiancés cock still impaled deep into you. “no worries now, it’s all done.” nanami grins, “now all i’ve got left to do is make my woman feel good, isn’t that right?”
#jjk#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#nanami x me#nanami fanart#nanami kento fanart#nanamin#nanami x reader smut#nanami x y/n#nanami x you#nanami x reader#nanami x oc#kento nanami smut#nanami kento x reader#kento x you#jujutsu kento#jjk kento#kento smut#nanami kento#kento x reader#kento nanami#kento x y/n#jjk x reader#jjk nanami#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen nanami#drabbles ⋆⑅˚₊
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Boss’ Obsession—Player 001/Hwang In Ho x Fem!Reader
summary— Young-il’s obsession with you reaches its peak and he takes you in the bathroom in the middle of the night. Based on this request.
warnings— praise kink, Somnophilia, Voyeurism, male masturbation?, oral(f!receiving), choking, mirror play, unprotected sex, creampie.
The poorly lit quarters was silent except for the soft snores and occasional murmurs of the others. The toll the games took was felt even in sleep, but Young-il’s mind was far from the anxiety of the competition. His dark eyes remained locked on you, his body leaning against the cold wall as you lay a few feet away, curled on your side, breathing softly.
He couldn’t stop himself, he never could. Since the moment he first saw you, you’d been a constant pull, something he couldn’t explain but didn’t bother questioning. You were his obsession. And now, in the quiet of the night, his infatuation consumed him.
A low moan rumbled in his chest as he shifted against the wall, his hand drifting lower. His palm pressed against his hard cock through his pants, seeking some relief as his eyes remained glued to you. He moved slowly, his teeth digging into his bottom lip to muffle any sound. The way your lips parted in sleep, the outline of your body under the thin blanket—it was too much.
But before he could finish, he clenched his jaw and stopped himself. Not like this. Not without you.
Getting up, he crossed the space quietly, crouching beside you. His fingers brushed your shoulder, a gentle nudge. “Wake up,” he whispered, his voice husky and low, “Come with me.”
“Young-il?” you murmured, voice heavy with sleep.
“Shh,” he said, helping you up. “We need to talk. Just come.”
Though confusion flickered across your face, you nodded, trusting him. He guided you toward the huge door, the guards barely sparing a glance as he led you out. You were so confused but your groggy state prevented you from even questioning it.
Once in the bathroom, he locked the door behind you both, the sound of the latch clicking echoing in the small space. You turned to him, still half-asleep but now more aware of something in his gaze.
“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice soft.
“You,” he said simply, stepping closer. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Fuck, not even for a second.”
Your breath hitched as he crowded into your space, his hands finding your waist.
“Young-il.”
“I mean it,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours, “You’re all I see. All I want.”
You tilted your head, your lips brushing his, and that was all it took. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flat against him as his lips claimed yours. The kiss was fierce, needy, a testament to the obsession he had with you.
His hands roamed, finding the hem of your shirt and sliding beneath to grope your tits. You gasped against his lips, your fingers threading through his dark hair as he pressed you against the sink.
“You’re mine,” he rasped, his lips trailing down your neck. “Say it.”
“I— I’m yours,” you whispered, your nails digging into his shoulders as his kisses grew rougher, more desperate.
“Good girl,” he murmured, lifting you onto the edge of the sink as the room filled with nothing but the sound of your labored breaths.
Young-il’s hands trembled slightly as they gripped your waist. He had every intention of taking his time with you, savoring every moment, but the way you looked at him, slightly innocent, yet full of that same unrelenting desire he felt, had him weak.
His lips crashed against yours again, his control slipping. “I wanted to be patient,” he murmured between kisses, his voice rough and low. “I really did. But I can’t, not tonight.”
You barely had a moment to respond before his hands were on the waistband of your pants, tugging them down with one swift motion. The sound of fabric tearing filled the small space as he discarded your underwear with little care. Your breath hitched, both in surprise and need.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he muttered, his dark eyes devouring every inch of you. He sank to his knees, his hands sliding up your thighs as he pushed them apart. His touch was firm, possessive, and it sent a shiver up your spine.
“Young-il,” you whispered, your fingers finding their way into his hair.
“I’m going to make you feel so good. You won’t think about anything else but me.” he said, looking up at you.
Before you could respond, his mouth was on you, his tongue moving with purpose and precision. The pleasure was overwhelming, his lips and tongue working as if he was starving and you were the only thing that could satisfy his primal hunger. You bit down on your lip, trying desperately to keep quiet, but it was impossible. A soft moan escaped, and his eyes flicked up to meet yours, full of satisfaction and determination.
“That’s it,” he murmured against your pussy. “Don’t hold those moans. I want to hear you.”
Your hands tightened in his hair as he ravished your wetness, his pace relentless. The heat building inside you was unbearable, your breaths coming faster and more uneven. His grip on your thighs tightened, his thumb caressing your clit as his tongue slipped inside your hole.
“You taste so good,” he said between licks, his voice laced with desire. “You’re so perfect, all mine.”
The praise sent you over the edge. With a sharp gasp, your body tensed, and then the wave of release hit you, leaving you trembling, breathless and creaming.
Young-il didn’t stop until you were shuddering against his tongue, completely worn out. When he finally stood, his lips were swollen, and his smirk was self-satisfied. “Told you,” he said, brushing a strand of your curls from your face. “You’d forget everything but me.”
“Cocky much?” you said as you let out a shaky laugh, still catching your breath.
He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Only when it comes to you angel.”
You were still swooning from the intensity of how he ate you out but his hands on your hips told you he wasn’t finished. “I can’t wait anymore,” he murmured. His lips crashed onto yours as his fingers worked quickly, freeing his thick cock from his pants. Your eyes widened as he positioned himself between your legs, his size making your breath hitch.
“Y-you’re—” you started, but he smirked, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips.
“You’ll take my cock, won’t you?” he whispered, his tone teasing. “I’ll take care of you, I promise angel.”
Your nod was all the answer he needed. His hands gripped your thighs, positioning you onto the counter as he guided himself into your dripping pussy. The stretch was burning, almost overwhelming, and your fingers clawed at his shoulders.
“God, you’re so tight,” he groaned, pausing to let you adjust. “You feel so so good, better than I ever imagined.”
The pace he set was anything but slow. He thrusted into you with a raw, desperate need, his lips tracing your jawline before finding your neck. His praises spilled out in rough whispers, his hands keeping you steady as his cock slammed into you.
“That’s it,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re taking me so well. Just like that baby. Your pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”
Your hands gripped the edge of the counter as waves of pleasure coursed through you. He tilted your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. “Cum for me,” he commanded, “I want to feel your pussy drench my cock.”
With a cry, you gave in, your pussy quivering against his cock. His name spilled from your lips as he buried his face in your neck, kissing you to ground you in the moment. Though, he wasn’t finished.
“Oh no angel,” he said with a smirk, pulling back slightly to look at you, “We’re not done yet.”
Before you could catch your breath, he turned you around, pressing your front against the mirror. Your reflection stared back at you, fucked out and dazed, as he positioned himself to take you from behind.
“You look so good like this,” he whispered, his hand sliding up to rest lightly around your throat. His lips found the sensitive spot below your ear, trailing kisses down your neck as he started slamming into you.
Your fingers clutched the sink for support as his pace quickened, the roughness of it all leaving you breathless. “You’re doing so well,” he murmured. “So perfect for me. Look at yourself, see how good you’re taking my cock.”
The combination of his words, his hand around your throat, his cock slamming into you making your ass recoil, and your reflection in the mirror was too much. Your body tensed as you neared your end again, and he sensed it.
“Cum on my cock,” he urged, his hand tightening around your neck. “Come on angel, I’ve got you. Cum, now.”
And you obeyed. Your orgasm hit you harder this time, leaving you gasping as he followed right behind, moaning your name like a prayer, his cum filling you to the brim.
Young-il pressed a kiss to your shoulder before gently pulling you back against his chest. “That’s my good girl,” he whispered.
As he cleaned you up with surprising tenderness, you blinked at him, still dazed. “How—how did the guards even let us in here?” you asked, voice tired.
“Don’t worry about that angel.” His grin was smug, but his touch was soft as he helped you straighten your clothes.
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the confusion and questions swirling your mind as he led you out of the bathroom, his hand warm and protective around yours, your legs wobbly.
#black reader#young il x reader#young il#hwang in ho fanfic#hwang in ho x reader#hwang in ho#in ho squid game#in ho smut#in ho x reader#hwang in ho smut#squid game smut#squid game in ho#squid game x y/n#squid game fanfic#squid game front man#the front man x reader#front man squid game#front man x reader#the front man#front man#squid game season 2#squid game fic#squid game#netflix squid game#squid game netflix#squid game x reader#squid game x you#squid game 2#player 001 x reader#player 001
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RED FERRARI CHASE | 05
MAIN | MASTERLIST | IRL & Social Media AU
Pairing — F1 Driver!Rafe x High School Sweetheart!(F)Reader
Summary — Before Rafe became one of the best drivers on the grid, he was yours. However, when his popularity skyrocketed, he became one of the most eligible bachelors in F1, leaving you behind to indulge in the notoriety of the sport. Yet, years have passed, and he hasn’t stopped thinking about you: his first love, his high school sweetheart, the only person to believe in him. When new management takes over his team, he’s afraid their new strategy could undermine his role in the cutthroat league. But in an unexpected twist of fate, Rafe discovers you returning to the circuit as part of the new leadership—now, with a ring on your finger. Engaged to his boss.
Content — formula one au
Navigation — Part 04 | Part 05 | Part 06
You nearly jump out of your skin. The voice was close—too close to be a figment of your imagination. And when you pick up the steady breaths of another person occupying your space, you know it to be true. With all the hairs standing on your arms, you slowly turn around to face the owner of the voice: Rafe Cameron.
He’s casually leaning against the counter on the opposite end of the kitchen, a couple of cold brews beside him, while his arms are crossed over his chest. Expectantly.
This is exactly what you were trying to avoid.
“Hi,” you squeak, all confidence from your call vanishing.
“Hi,” Rafe echoes, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips. Instinctively, you tighten the hold of your snack to your chest.
“Hi,” you repeat, heart hammering wildly, losing every ounce of composure you’re trying to muster. But it’s clearly not going well given you’re unable to say any other word without stumbling into a complete mess.
“Hi,” he laughs, a rich airy sound that leaves your stomach twisting and turning. You don’t understand what’s so funny, especially since you want nothing more than to melt into a puddle at your own feet. “Is that the only word you know or can you answer me now?”
Your mind blanks. You can’t recall the question proposed, and as time ticks, the discomfort from the lack of knowledge expands. Just as you’re about to run out of the room, Rafe notices, and repeats back to you.
“Oh,” you mumble, fidgeting with your snack. “Um, I—um, well, Kiara.”
“Carrera?” His head tilts, the carefree smile widening and a small dimple pokes out, rewarding you for your answer. “You’re friends with her?”
You nod, not trusting your voice.
"So that’s who you’re complaining to about us being obnoxious?"
Your face burns up. Your mouth pops open, but nothing falls through.
Someone in the living room calls for him. “In a minute!” He shouts, his eyes never straying from your face, observing and taking in every ounce of embarrassment filtering your features. He asks again, “A simple yes or no will do.”
“It’s not like that,” you blurt out, the words tumbling over themselves. “I just–You know how you guys always—I mean, you have to know—“
“Look,” he chuckles, holding out a hand, stopping you from making a bigger fool of yourself. “I get it. We’re loud. But you don’t have to afraid. We don’t bite.” He says, before pausing, the corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk. “Unless you ask us to.”
“I–“ You have no words. You don’t even know what to say. “I’m sorry.”
‘Why are you apologizing, you’re right.” He shrugs. His eyes sweep over your body, familiarity trickling in. “You’re the tutor girl, right? The one in my grade?”
You’re surprised Rafe knows this. While you may be in his year, you don’t circulate the same crowd as him—aka, the ones hanging around your brother and his peers of F1 enthusiasts.
“Yeah,” you answer with a quiet nod. “Mainly for science.”
“I like science,” he grins, but there’s a subtle tone of innuendo, causing your stomach to flutter. “So, if I need help, I can come to you?”
Your eyes widen, expecting this to be a joke. But nothing but sincerity covers his features. A brow raised as he’s patiently awaiting your confirmation.
Someone calls out again, more urgently this time. “Just a sec!” He snaps, his irritation hardens his features in a matter of seconds, his words coming out as sharp. But when he drags his gaze back to you, all of it disappears. “Yeah?”
You bite your bottom lip. Contemplating, before inevitably, deliriously, and perhaps stupidly, nodding. “Yeah.”
“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind.” He says with a wink, pushing himself off the counter and collecting the beers with one hand before walking back into the living room.
It takes a few seconds before your breath catches up after Rafe’s departure. When all the air fills to your lungs, a sense of sobriety unveils itself, and you exhale sharply. You can’t believe that just happened, and as you collect your phone to return to the room, you discover Kiara is still on the line.
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Hello there! I was wondering if you would be willing to write a request that I thought up? No pressure of course. I'd love to read your rendition of it but if you don't want to that is absolutely and of course fine.
So I am a pretty emotional person, and especially when I am pmsing or on my period its a very common sight for me to be silently crying over a sad reel or a photo of a puppy or sobbing loudly if I re-read my comfort angsty fic. I really crave physical affection and coddling during my period which sucks cause I live with 2 dormmates who sleep 2 steps away from me and aren't very touchy but are very loving. Like today my friend showed me a photo of her holding a puppy who was nuzzling into her sweatshirt, claws out and hooked in her sleeve and all and ofc I started crying. My other roommate was like don't show it to her she's on her period, she will cry. But then she was like, on second thought do, I enjoy her tears 💀.
On to my actual request now, sorry for rambling 😅
So I was wondering if the reader had a similar tendency with her emotions and hormones around her cycle, how the marauders would deal with it you know? Would they be used to it, asking if its just a leaky faucet to let some emotional pressure out (that happens a lot with me lol) or actual crying. If they would be freaking out no matter how often it happens. Or how they would coddle her.. very curious to see if you pick this up! Thanks for reading nonetheless <3<3
Haha thank you for your request angel <3
cw: reader who menstruates, mention of animals in televion industry, Sirius is not good with tears
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 644 words
You try not to make a spectacle of yourself. You really do. You hide in the corner of the couch, feeling the burn of your sinuses and eventually letting a couple of tears roll down your face without lifting a hand to wipe them. Your throat squeezes. Your temples ache.
Despite your best efforts, all it takes is one tiny sniffle to get the attention of your boyfriends.
James’ arm tightens around your shoulders. His cheek squishes into your head, voice heavy with sympathy as you both look at the TV. “I know, angel. It ends alright, though, yeah?”
“All he does,” you choke out, watching the dog on the screen through blurry vision, “is wait for his owner to come home every day. That’s his whole life.”
“It’s an advert for dog kibble!” Sirius protests.
You shrug, weeping, and Sirius gives a short laugh tinged with anxiety. Remus sets a hand on his knee.
“Sweetheart,” Remus says gently, “I’m sure that in real life, that dog is very well taken care of. He probably gets plenty of attention and time with his owners. He’s famous, right?”
You nod, though you can’t help a tiny sob as the on-screen dog sits straight up at the sound of a key in the door. “Right.”
“Right.” Remus gives you a kind look. “You okay? Not upset about anything else?”
“Yeah.” You sniffle weakly. “M’okay, just. My head hurts.”
James makes the sort of syrupy pitying sound that has your throat contracting all over again. “Do you think it might be the crying, lovie? It’s not the first time that commercial’s been on today. You could be dehydrated.”
“I don’t know,” you say, quietly. “I don’t think so.”
“I’ll fetch you a paracetamol and some water to be sure.” Remus stands, patting Sirius’ thigh consolingly when the other boy shifts off his lap with the movement. He touches the top of your head as he walks behind the couch, and James kisses the spot as though to second it.
“Baby.” Sirius turns to you with a stern look. “First the Lorax last night, and now this? The ad’s not even on anymore; it’s finished.”
“It’s just…” You swallow, fighting to keep your voice solid. “Do you think all pets feel like that? When their people leave to go to work?”
“No, honey,” James consoles you. “I think they’re happy to amuse themselves while we’re gone.”
“They’re perfectly fine,” says Sirius, not unkindly. “Stop crying.”
“Don’t be mean.” James gathers you closer. “She’s on her period, she’s entitled to some crying.”
“It’s like the hiccups, James. You’ve got to scare it off.”
“That’s barbaric.”
“What’s barbaric is the television industry that keeps making our girlfriend burst into tears at random points in the day!”
“You guys.” You’re nearly laughing now. With tears still wet on your cheeks, Sirius hardly looks comforted. “Don’t fight.”
“We’re not fighting.” James is quick to mollify you.
“Oh, dovey.” Remus returns with your painkillers, bending to wipe your face with a put upon frown. “Are they upsetting you?”
“God, no.” Sirius reclines back against the cushions, blowing a breath up towards the ceiling. “What chance have we of doing that, when there’s wealthy dog actors to do it for us?”
You take the water Remus has brought you, downing the painkiller. “Do you really think the dog gets decent money from the advert?” you ask as he pets your hair dotingly.
James ponders this. “Even if it’s not very much, I’d bet his owners put as much of it back into him as they can. He probably sleeps on a memory foam dog bed.”
Sirius is watching your face distressedly. “Baby,” he nearly pleads. “It’s okay.”
“No, that’s good,” you manage, voice a quiet squeak as your eyes fill again. “I just think that’s a really nice life for him. He deserves it.”
#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly marauders#poly marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders blurb#poly!marauders scenario#james potter#james potter x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#poly!marauders oneshot#the marauders#marauders x reader#marauders era#hp marauders
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Can’t Get Rid of You
౨ৎ PAIRING— university student!jeong yunho x university student!reader
౨ৎ GENRE— academic rivals to lovers, angst, fluff, fem!reader
౨ৎ WARNINGS— angst, fluff, yunho is rude at times, but so is reader
౨ৎ WORD COUNT— 4.9k
౨ৎ SUMMARY— both you and yunho are chosen to attend the same conference, staying in a local hotel, only there’s only one room, and you both seemingly hate each other
౨ৎ A/N— it’s here!! i’m sorry it took so long for me to write, but i hope you all still enjoy it and it lives up to expectations!! thank you so much for your interest and lmk what you think <3
“Mind if I sit here?”
Looking up, you’re almost in disbelief at who you see.
“Wha-” you stutter, but he rolls his eyes, taking the seat anyway. “Excuse me-“
“Take it up with the flight attendant. This is my seat.” Yunho responds, a far too cheeky smirk on his face.
“And why do you have a seat right next to me?” you ask, frowning, as you move your stuff so he doesn’t kick it or sit on it.
“Because we’re from the same school and going to the same conference. I’m sure you know that the university paid for our tickets, unless you’re that dumb,” he responds, giving you a sideways look before putting in his AirPods.
“Are you going to the Tokyo conference?” you ask, already knowing the answer.
“Are you deaf or did you not hear when I just told you we’re going to the same conference?” Yunho replies, quirking an eyebrow at you.
“Wow, rude,” you roll your eyes, settling back into your seat, jamming your own earbuds in your ears, just as the plane starts to takeoff. This is going to be a long weekend.
Dragging your suitcase behind you, you begrudgingly follow Yunho into the fairly nice hotel the university had booked for you to stay in over the weekend. He leads the way to the front desk, where he gets the receptionist’s attention. “I have a booking from Seoul National University.”
She types on her keyboard, the keys clicking as she searches. “Names?”
“Jeong Yunho,” he responds, and, before you can say your own name, he adds. “And Y/N Y/L/N.”
“Are you both together?” the receptionist gestures to you and Yunho, making you glance at Yunho too.
“No,” you respond, shaking your head.
She frowns, “Are you both from the same university?”
“Yes…” Yunho replies hesitantly. “Is there an issue?”
“Seoul National University only booked one room,” the lady informs both of you, making your heart sink.
“Are you sure?” you ask, biting your lip.
“Positive. Would you still like to take the room or ask the university first?” she asks, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.
“We’ll take it,” Yunho sighs, making you look at him in shock, as the receptionist nods and types on the keyboard before passing Yunho the room key card. With a nod to her, he starts to move again, clearly expecting you to follow.
“Yunho!” you hiss, rushing to follow him as he heads to the elevator. “I am not sharing a room with you all weekend.”
“Or…” he turns sharply to look at you as you almost collide with his chest at the abrupt stop. He bends down a little to be at your height. “You could grow up and realize that the school will take all weekend just to fix the room error and you’re going to have to get used to the idea of living with me for a weekend because it’s the best we’re going to do unless you want to pay for your own expensive room.”
Your mouth snaps shut at his reprimand, even though you really want to fight back. You know it would be fruitless anyway.
“Good. Now, I’m exhausted, so let’s go find the room, yeah?” he raises his eyebrows, expecting you to agree.
“Whatever,” you grumble, hating that he’s right. You bite your tongue to keep from making an additional comment about his character.
“Good girl.”
Your head snaps up, your mouth dropping open slightly, but he’s already walking off toward the elevator again. With a sharp glare at the back of his head, you yank your suitcase along with you as you follow him.
After he unlocks the room, the lock making a clicking sound as the room key works, he pushes the door open, dragging his suitcase with him as he enters the room.
“So let’s get this straight,” you start, pulling your suitcase into the room before sitting on the edge of the bed. “You got chosen to come to the same conference?”
“It’s not that deep,” Yunho responds, already setting up some of his stuff. “If you’d read the flier for the conference, you’d have known that up to four could have been chosen from our university.”
“I read the flier, but why’d you choose this one?” you respond, exasperated.
“Why’d you choose it?” he snaps, looking up at you from his spot crouched in front of his suitcase on the floor.
“Because it made the most sense for my major and I didn’t want to wait until fall to meet potential employers,” you reply confidently.
“I chose it for the same reason,” he retaliates, setting his phone down on the bedside table and plugging it into the wall charger he brought. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, princess.”
“Don’t call me that,” you glare at him, squeezing the handle of your suitcase. “And you’re not even smart! You’re just naturally good.”
“Hit a nerve, did I?” Yunho chuckles before gesturing to your suitcase. “You better unpack soon or you’ll be awake all night. And you’re just jealous because I don’t have to work as hard as you to be good.”
“Whatever. And I’m getting to it,” you roll your eyes. “And besides, I’m leaving to get something to eat in a minute anyway.”
“So am I,” he replies making you sigh in annoyance. “Let’s just go together. It’ll be easier.”
“I don’t want to go with—”
“Does ramen work for you?” Yunho cuts you off, looking at his phone to see restaurants near the hotel.
“I just said that I—”
“Good!” he responds, his brown eyes meeting yours, daring you to argue further. “Be ready to leave in ten minutes.”
“Yunho!” you call after him as he enters the bathroom, closing the door in your face. With a frustrated huff, you sit back down on the bed, fully aware you’re being childish about the whole situation, but too invested in being annoyed to care.
Exactly ten minutes later, you’re sitting on the bed again, after having unpacked a little, scrolling on your phone.
Yunho exits the bathroom, looking fresher and having changed clothes.
“Did you shower in there?” you ask. “You know other people need the bathroom too.”
“I didn’t shower,” he rolls his eyes, running his fingers through his dark hair. “I just changed out of my airport clothes and washed my face.”
“Well you better be prepared to wait another ten minutes before leaving to get dinner because I need more time,” you retort, grabbing your own change of clothes and heading to the bathroom.
“Take your time then,” Yunho responds, plopping down onto the bed and grabbing his phone.
“Or you could just leave and I’ll get something myself,” you respond, a last ditch effort to get him to leave you alone.
“Nah, I’ll wait. I’m in no rush,” he replies, much to your dismay.
“Of course you aren’t,” you mumble under your breath as you close the bathroom door a little harder than necessary. Why’d Yunho have to be naturally smart enough to come to this conference? He doesn’t even try!
Roughly fifteen minutes later, you exit the bathroom, slipping into some shoes as you sit on the edge of the bed again.
“Took you long enough,” Yunho’s voice greets you as you sigh.
“I gave you fair warning,” you reply, grabbing your purse as Yunho slips his shoes back on.
“Let’s go then, slow poke,” he teases as you follow him out of the room.
It takes about ten minutes to get to the ramen place, following the GPS on Yunho’s phone. It’s a quaint little place that actually looks really cozy. The bell dings overhead as Yunho pushes the door open and you both walk in.
The employees greet you as you enter, Yunho quickly snagging one of the tables near the window. For a moment, you debate sitting somewhere else, but you see that the other tables are pretty full, so you sigh, sitting across from Yunho.
“Is it that much of a struggle for you to get along with me for one single weekend until the conference is over?” Yunho asks, his voice laced with mock sweetness.
“Well it isn’t easy, that’s for sure,” you grumble.
“Well, we’re representing our university at the conference tomorrow so get it together, okay? I’m sure I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to make a fool of myself tomorrow, hm?” Yunho responds, and you know that he’s right.
“Fine,” you reply through gritted teeth. “I’ll try, but only if you do too.”
“I already have been, princess,” he winks cheekily, knowing you already warned him about the domineering nickname earlier.
It takes all the restraint you have not to reach across the table and punch his perfect face.
About an hour later, you enter the hotel room again, exhausted and ready for a shower and sleep. “Dibs on the first shower,” you tell him, already grabbing your stuff.
“Be my guest,” Yunho shrugs, gesturing to the bathroom door as you walk through it, closing it and locking it behind you.
Deciding not to wash your hair tonight, you start the shower, still taking your time with cleaning yourself. When you finish, you shut the water off and hop out, slipping into your silk pajamas, brushing your teeth, and doing your skincare.
Yunho is waiting when you finally walk out, his head lifting as he hears you open the bathroom door. “Done?” he asks, to which you simply nod, allowing him to walk past you and into the bathroom.
With a sigh, you sit down on the bed, grabbing your phone and checking your messages. About twenty minutes later, the bathroom door opens, a small amount of steam seeping out as Yunho emerges, shirtless, wearing grey sweatpants slung low on his hips.
You have to forcefully avert your eyes to keep from staring at his slightly defined abs for too long, even though you have to admit his pale skin is gorgeous. Shaking your head, you force your mind out of the gutter. He’s your rival!
Surprisingly, Yunho doesn’t call you out on your ogling, choosing instead to walk over to his suitcase, crouching down, as he searches for something. “You didn’t happen to see a grey hoodie over there, did you?” he asks, looking up at you.
You look down at the bed, spotting it under the blanket you’d thrown onto the bed. “This one?” you hold it up, watching as his face lights up and he nods.
“Yeah, thanks,” Yunho replies, offering you a small smile as he walks over, reaching out to grab it. Your eyes widen as he leans over you a little, his chest nearly directly in front of your face. You swallow, feeling heat creeping up your neck as Yunho finally grabs the hoodie, his fingers brushing against yours as you release the soft fabric from your grip.
Blinking as he pulls back, you snap yourself out of it. “No problem,” you respond, watching out of the corner of your eye as Yunho slips the hoodie over his head before plopping down on the bottom of the bed, phone in hand again.
“So, sleeping arrangement?” he asks after a few minutes of silence, setting his phone down and stretching, his hoodie riding up a little to reveal a sliver of skin.
“Uh, what?”
“How are we going to sleep tonight?” he repeats, slightly exasperated.
“Closing our eyes, I guess,” you shrug, setting your own phone down.
Yunho rolls his eyes, nudging your foot with his hand, making you pull it up closer to your body, wide eyed. “You know what I mean, dummy.”
“Well, obviously, I get the bed,” you respond. “I’m the girl.”
“Oh, and girls can’t sleep on couches?” Yunho asks, raising an eyebrow.
“We can, but it’s polite of the man to let the woman take the bed, is it not?”
“Maybe it’s polite of most men, but this man is too tall to sleep on that couch,” he points at the rather small and short couch that is pushed against the wall on the opposite side of the room.
“And this woman gets cramps if I sleep in a weird position,” you argue, crossing your arms.
“But my legs will hang off the end!” Yunho retorts.
“And my back will cramp and I won’t be able to walk tomorrow!”
“Fine, you know what? I’ll be the bigger person and sleep on the couch. It’s late and I’d rather not argue with you again,” Yunho sighs, standing up as he grabs one of the pillows and a blanket.
“Wait, no, I can be the bigger person and sleep on the couch,” you start to move, suddenly feeling a little bad for making him sleep there.
“No, I’m clearly the bigger person here,” Yunho chuckles, gesturing to his height. “And like I said, I don’t want to argue anymore. So let’s just sleep, yeah?”
“Fine,” you frown, reaching over to turn the light off, bathing the room in darkness, except for the moonlight filtering in through the hotel room window.
About an hour later, you’re still awake, tossing and turning, realizing suddenly that you’re actually worried about the conference tomorrow. What if the presentation you have prepared is horrible and they all laugh at you? Or what if Yunho’s is better and he gets all the recognition and job offers?
You glance over at the couch he’s sleeping on, seeing his legs hanging off the end just as he’d said, and you suddenly feel like a horrible human being for making him sleep like that all night when he’s probably equally as nervous about the conference. “Yunho?”
“Hm?” a sleepy hum greets you as you hear rustling.
“You awake?” you ask, whispering.
“Yeah, why?” he responds, his voice a little deeper, thick with exhaustion.
“Are you sure you don’t want the bed?” you ask, hoping he won’t react strongly to your offer.
“I said you could have it,” he sighs deeply, and you can practically hear the annoyance in his tone.
“I know, but I’m clearly more qualified to take the couch,” you respond softly, surprising even yourself with your gentle tone. Suddenly, you think of something. “Or we could… share the bed?”
“No,” he replies, turning over on the couch, facing away from you.
“But you’re clearly exhausted and so am I,” you frown. “I won’t try anything, I promise.”
“Why would I think you would?” Yunho replies, laughing a little.
“I dunno,” you blush, but at least he can’t see the color on your cheeks in the dark. “I’m just trying to reassure you-“
“You know what?” Yunho sits up a little. “I’ll take you up on the offer. This couch hurts.”
You watch as he stands up, stretching before making his way over to the bed, trying not to trip on your suitcase as he steps over it. “I’ll sleep on top of the sheets, though.”
“Deal,” you nod, moving over to let him onto the bed, laughing slightly at his relieved sigh as he lays down. “Just stay on your side, okay?”
“Noted,” he responds, and you can practically hear the grin on his face. “She doesn’t like cuddling.”
“Not with you at least,” you snort in response, rolling over to face away from him. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, princess.” This time, you don’t even feel the urge to correct him.
Your eyes slowly open as they adjust to the dim light filtering into the room. Feeling warmth to your left, you let your eyes drift closed again as you unconsciously shift closer to it, your face coming in contact with something hard and warm. With a start, your eyes open and you look up to see just grey fabric in your vision.
“Huh?” you pull away, seeing that it’s Yunho’s hoodie your face is pressed into. You quickly sit up, making sure he’s still asleep, his eyes closed and his face peaceful, before you look down, seeing you’re literally in the middle of the bed. How could you go against your own rule and not stay on your side of the bed?
All you can do is hope he was too deep in sleep to notice. You quietly and carefully slip out of the bed and grab your clothes for the day out of your suitcase, heading to the bathroom to take a quick shower.
By the time you get out, Yunho is awake and sipping some coffee. “‘Morning,” he greets you with a nod and a small smirk.
“Good morning,” you reply, acting as causal as you can as you go to your suitcase.
“‘No cuddles’, huh?”
You grit your teeth, having half expected this. “It won’t happen again.”
“If it does, I’ll know you lied,” Yunho responds, his tone teasing as he stands up, heading to the bathroom. But before he closes the door, he adds, “And for the record? I didn’t mind.”
His words leave you confused more than anything else as you shake your head, getting back to what you were doing, needing to go over your PowerPoint again before it’s time to present at the conference.
Hours later, when it’s finally your turn to present at the conference, you walk up to the stage, your never making your hands shake. As you start, your nerves slowly dissipate, until disaster strikes. You click the little remote, but the slideshow isn’t playing. Glancing around the room, you give them a nervous smile.
“One moment please…”
Frantically, you press the button, looking at the IT team for help just before the whole computer shuts down.
With a frown, you catch Yunho’s eyes, and he looks concerned. Mustering your courage, you try to salvage the presentation as best you can. “Where was I? Oh um… I think it would really help because… um…”
Your brain feels like it’s malfunctioning and your face is on fire as you try to piece together your thoughts, when you realize. The computer wasn’t doing this for anyone else all day.
Why’d it choose you? Your eyes meet Yunho’s again and it clicks in your head. He sabotaged it. This morning, you left your computer turned on while you went to shower and he must have done something to it.
Holding back tears, you rush off the stage, completely humiliated. You’re so hysterical that you don’t notice Yunho following you out.
You notice him as you turn the corner, hearing him following you as you rush out of the huge conference room, hurrying down the hallway, trying to hold back tears.
“Wait!” Yunho calls out, catching up to you as he grabs your arm, making you whip around on him.
“Why are you acting like you care?! I just spoiled all my chances of ever making it into an elite corporation!” you cry, tears pricking your vision as you move to lean against the wall.
Yunho frowns, taking a step closer to you, “I never said I don’t care. You said that. You’re the one keeping up this ‘rivalry’ like you think there’s something wrong with both of us being smart! You know, in freshman year, I saw how hard you worked and I actually wanted to be your friend! It’s true I don’t have to try as hard, but I still care!”
Your head snaps up as you look at him, really look at him, for what feels like the first time. Your voice is shaky as you ask, “What?”
He steps closer still, “You’re the one making a big thing out of both of us being the smartest at the university and getting into all the prestigious programs together. I’ve only ever wanted the best for you… I mean it. I’ve never wished you’d fail so I could succeed.”
You notice the way his voice softens as he speaks, his brown eyes flicking across your face, trying to gauge your reaction and emotions.
“So you didn’t sabotage my presentation?” you ask, sniffling as you look up at him.
He’s taken aback for a moment, seemingly shocked that you’d even think that before he gently places his hands on your elbows, his warm hands effectively getting you to look up at him, “No, I’d never do that to you. I know how hard you’ve worked because you’re just as good, if not better, than me. What happened today was purely a technical issue and then you clammed up out there when it didn’t go as planned.”
“So, you’re positive you didn’t tamper with it?”
“I didn’t.”
Silence follows as the two of you stand together, your eyes searching his, looking for a shred of proof that he could be lying.
Finding none, you release a shaky sigh before suddenly throwing your arms around his neck, standing on your tippy toes to bury your face in the crook of his neck, finally breaking completely as you sob quietly.
He freezes for a moment, taken aback, but he slowly returns the embrace, trying to comfort you as his hand gently moving to cradle the back of your head, his other resting on your back. “Shh,” he soothes, gently rubbing your back in a soothing motion. “It happens.”
“What? Clamming up completely in front of all my potential employers?” you let out a self deprecating laugh, sniffling.
“Well that’s part of it,” Yunho chuckles softly. “But I mean the computer freezing on you. You couldn’t control that, could you?”
“I could control how I reacted, though,” you frown, pulling away from the impromptu hug. “And I reacted horribly. I crumbled under pressure.”
“You’re young and inexperienced,” Yunho responds, reasoning with you. “I think they’ll take that into account when deciding who to hire. Do you not think it’s impressive enough that you’re in your junior year of college and already got accepted to come to this conference anyway? Do you not think they’ll take that into account too?”
Sighing, you realize he’s right. “Maybe?”
“You don’t sound convinced,” Yunho laughs softly, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “I’m serious, Y/N. You’re smart, mature, and you’re pretty easy on the eyes if I do say so myself.”
You blush slightly, “You’re just saying that…”
“I’m not,” he shakes his head, squeezing your sides gently. “I’m completely serious.”
“Okay,” you respond softly. “I believe you… even though we’re supposed to hate each other.”
“You said that, not me,” Yunho laughs.
“I can’t believe I spent two of my years of college avoiding you like the plague because I thought you hated me,” you rub your nose, sighing.
He gives you a half smile, “We can make up for it now, though, can’t we?”
“I suppose.”
“And you know what?” Yunho starts, his smile growing.
“What?” you ask curiously.
“There’ll be other conferences, other chances to impress those tycoons,” he replies, bending down a little to look you in the eyes.
You gasp suddenly, your hand moving to cover your mouth, “Yunho! You’re missing your presentation! You’re supposed to be presenting in five minutes!”
“If you screwed yours up, so did I,” Yunho laughs. “Our university will just have to pass this time around, yeah?”
“Yunho…” your hands lift to grip his shoulders. “Please go present. Do it for me? Please?”
“Are you serious? You want me to?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowing. “But why?”
“Because you’ve been kind to me for almost this whole trip, and the times you weren’t were my fault. So please, you deserve this,” you beg him.
“We deserve this,” he responds, his hand slipping into yours, intertwining your fingers, making you look down at your hand clasped in his before looking back up at his smiling face. “We’ll do it together.”
“What?” you’re shocked, confused.
“You heard me,” Yunho starts tugging on your hand. “We’ll present together. You’ll make up for your mess up, and I’ll guide you, okay?”
“For real?” you ask, a small smile growing on your face as you let him guide you back toward the conference room.
“For real.”
The presentation ends with applause from everyone in the room, and you’re beaming, a smile you can’t get rid of on your face as you and Yunho exit the stage.
Different employers talk to you for a while before they finally let you both go, exhausted yet pleased with how you’d done.
As soon as you’re out of sight from the crowd, you throw your arms around Yunho again in a tight hug. “We did it!”
“We did,” he responds, grinning, as he returns your hug, burying his face in your hair.
“Thank you,” you whisper against his neck. “For letting me do that with you.”
“You deserved it,” Yunho responds. “And maybe I was being a little selfish too?”
“Selfish?” you pull back to look at him, confused.
“I wanted you to finally like me,” he replies sheepishly. “I—I’ve been trying to get you to like me ever since I met you. You just always pushed me away.”
“I only did that because I thought we were in an unspoken rivalry,” you sigh, looking down. “I see now how stupid I was to make something like that up you never even acted like it.”
“That’s not true,” Yunho responds softly. “I did act like it quite often just because of my pride. I didn’t want you to think it was one-sided if you were going to be all… competitive.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” he breathes, before grabbing your hand in his again. “Ready to go back to the hotel?”
“Yeah,” you smile, letting him lead you out of the building.
As you walk out of the airport, back on the ground in South Korea at the end of the weekend, you’re actually sad to part with Yunho to go home.
“You know, I’m kinda sad that conference was at the end of the school year,” you muse, sighing, as you wait for your sister to come pick you up.
“Why’s that?” Yunho asks, looking down at you.
“Because now I have all summer before we go back to school,” you reply, biting your lip softly.
“Why would you want to go back to school?” Yunho asks, laughing a little at the absurdity of missing school that much.
“Because…” you trail off before look up at him, your voice growing softer. “I’ll miss everything.”
“What’s everything?” Yunho asks, his eyebrows furrowing.
“Well, the campus, classes, my friends…” you trail off before taking a deep breath. “You.”
“Me?” he asks, eyes widening. “You’ll miss me?”
“Of course I will,” you respond, a small smile growing on your face. “This weekend has taught me a lot about things, including you.”
“Has the princess grown up?” Yunho asks, a hint of his old teasing tone peeking through.
“I have,” you laugh softly. “Thanks to you.”
“Glad I could be of service,” he smiles, bumping his shoulder against yours playfully.
Just then, you see your sister’s car pulling up. “Well, that’s my ride I guess.”
“Yeah?” Yunho asks, standing up with you as you prepare to tell him goodbye.
“Yeah,” you breathe, grabbing the handle of your suitcase. “See you later?”
“Of course,” Yunho responds, smiling softly, his beautiful brown eyes sparkling.
“Bye,” you return his smile, starting to walk toward your sister’s car. Inside, you’re warring with yourself, debating back and forth. Should you do it?
Without a second thought about it, you let go of your suitcase handle, running back to Yunho and basically launching yourself into his arms as your lips collide with his. He freezes for only a moment before he grips your sides, returning the kiss. Your lips move against his for a moment before you pull back slowly, panting slightly.
“What was that for?” he asks, breathless, as he brushes his nose against yours.
“I like you too, Yunho,” you respond, a small smile on your face as you glance at his perfect, pink lips again. “I think I always have… I was just scared.”
He grins, joy radiating from his smile, “You like me?”
“I do,” you nod shyly.
Yunho leans in again, capturing your lips with his in another, much softer kiss. When he pulls away, his gaze meets yours. “I’m so happy we spent the weekend together.”
“So am I,” you smile, reluctantly pulling away. “Well, I should go meet my sister before she wonders what’s happening.”
“Yeah,” he nods, letting you go. “Can I give you my number and maybe we can meet up sometime this summer?”
“Please,” you nod, taking his phone from him to type on your number. With a mischievous smile, you make the contact name ‘Princess’ with a heart emoji. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” he responds, smiling when he sees the contact name. “I’ll text you soon.”
“Alright,” you smile, leaning in to give him one more hug before pulling away for real this time. “You know, I’m glad the university made a mistake with the rooms.”
“Me too,” Yunho smiles. “I got to see how much of a cuddle bug you really are.”
“Well, if you ask me out soon, you might get to see it again.”
“Is now too soon?” Yunho laughs, but you can tell he’s serious. “Will tomorrow work? I can come anywhere.”
“There’s a cafe in downtown Seoul. Would that work?” you suggest.
“Perfect,” he smiles, nodding. “I’ll text you the time I’ll pick you up once you send the address, alright?”
“I guess I was worried for nothing,” you laugh, shaking your head slightly.
“About what?” Yunho asks, tilting his head slightly in question.
“Missing you this summer.”
He winks as you move to go to your sister’s car, “You can’t get rid of me that easily, princess.”
“I think I’m slowly learning that fact.”
Taglist: @hongjoongspoetry, @originallyyn, @outlawinthisworld1117, @anxieteez, @touchme-teezme, @fixonateez8, @hum4n-e4ter, @cherriehaz, @eixila, @i-love-ateez, @gigikubolong29, @kyeos4ng, @annoyingretard, @grandlightcandy, @vanishingboots, @bkimrose, @hobarihope, @sunshiinmidnight, @yuyusuyu, @yunnierights, @sunkissedchocobeauty, @seonghwasprincess, @yunhowooyo, @bloomyroses, @hwalilac, @sheerfreesia007
if there’s a strike through your name, i couldn’t tag </3
#ateez#ateez x reader#writeblr#jeong yunho#atiny#ateez yunho#atz#sagewrites#yunho#ateez fanfic#ateez wooyoung#ateez seonghwa#ateez jongho#ateez san#ateez yeosang#ateez scenarios#ateez mingi#ateez hongjoong#ateez imagines#ateez fic#fluff#angst#rivals to lovers#enemies to lovers#viral#fyp#fypage#fyp���#fanfiction#yunho x reader
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hsr!men with a reader who 'stresses' them out to see if they actually like reader that much or not >< HSUDHNS like testing them! kind of. during a post-confession stage where they both kind of know but haven't put any labels on it yet........
AHCK IM SORRY IF THIS IS ODDLY SPECIFIC LOL
pairings. jing yuan, dan heng, blade, welt, sampo, gepard, luocha, caelus, dr ratio, aventurine, boothill, gallagher, moze, jiaoqiu, sunday x gn! reader
warnings. just fluff
a/n. i love this idea sm omg!! this is so cute and adorable, thank you so much for popping in!
wc. 10.6k
synopsis. testing the hsr men to see if they really like you or not...
recommend listening to: blue - yung kai
caelus
✧ caelus is feeling a mix of patience and confusion. mostly confusion.
✧ you’d stress them out by acting overly distant or cryptic with your words. of course, this would be a bit too mean but.... you needed to know whether or not he truly liked you or not!!!
✧ now caelus always has this quiet confidence about him, a grounded presence that somehow keeps you both intrigued and comforted. you’ve been walking the line between friendship and something more for weeks now—soft smiles, lingering touches, and late-night conversations that stretch into the early morning. but neither of you has made the leap to define it, and the uncertainty starts to gnaw at you.
✧ so, you decide to test him. not out of malice, but out of curiosity—does he care as much as you think he does? or are you misreading everything?
✧ it starts small. you "accidentally" forget your jacket during a particularly chilly day on the xianzhou luofu. "it's fine," you say, feigning nonchalance as you rub your arms. "i’ll survive."
✧ caelus, who notices everything, doesn’t hesitate. without a word, he shrugs off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders. it’s warm and smells faintly like him—clean and earthy.
✧ "you’ll catch a cold," he says simply, his expression unreadable. but the way his fingers linger at your shoulder for a moment longer than necessary sends a shiver down your spine.
✧ okay, you think. that’s a point for him.
✧ but you don’t stop there. later, as the two of you work together to sort some scattered archives, you sigh dramatically. "i’m so bad at this," you say, even though you’ve already figured out the system. "caelus, can you help me? i think i’m doing it all wrong."
✧ he glances at you, eyebrows raised slightly. he knows you’re capable—you’ve proven it plenty of times.
✧ "really?" he asks, his tone soft but teasing. "you seem like you’ve got it handled."
✧ but he still moves to your side, explaining the process again with patience and care. you can’t help but notice how close he stands, the way his arm brushes against yours.
✧ another point, you mentally tally, biting back a smile.
✧ the final "test" happens that evening. the two of you are sitting on a bench overlooking the bustling streets below. you lean your head back, sighing loudly.
✧ "caelus," you start, your tone heavy with faux melancholy, "do you ever think... maybe we’re wasting our time? like, maybe this—whatever this is—isn’t worth it?"
✧ his head snaps toward you so fast you almost laugh. his usual calm demeanor falters for a moment, and there’s a flicker of something raw in his amber eyes.
✧ "what are you trying to say?" he asks, his voice lower than usual.
✧ suddenly, the air feels heavier. you weren’t expecting such a serious reaction, and it makes your chest tighten.
✧ "i mean..." you hesitate, suddenly feeling a little guilty for pushing him. "i don’t know. it just feels like maybe we’re stuck in this limbo, you know?"
✧ he stares at you for a moment, his gaze searching. then, he exhales softly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "if you think this isn’t worth it," he says, his voice steady but quiet, "then tell me. but don’t assume i feel the same."
✧ your heart stutters at his words.
✧ "you don’t?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. he turns to look at you again, his expression soft but serious.
✧ "no," he says firmly. "you mean a lot to me. more than you realize. i’m just... waiting for you to figure out how much you mean to me too."
✧ and just like that, the test is over. you realize you didn’t need to test him at all—he’s always been steady, always been sure. it was you who needed the reassurance, and he gave it to you without hesitation.
✧ as the silence stretches between you, you feel the weight of his coat still draped over your shoulders. you finally let yourself smile, leaning closer to him.
✧ "okay," you murmur. "i get it now."
✧ he doesn’t say anything, but the small, satisfied smile that tugs at his lips says enough.
gepard
✧ poor gepard takes your “test” far too seriously.
✧ (his face falls immediately, and he starts overthinking everything he’s ever done. he’d even try to change his habits, stumbling through awkward attempts to “loosen up.” “i—i can be fun! watch this!” (proceeds to try something clumsy.))
✧ testing gepard’s feelings feels almost unfair. he’s so earnest, so genuine, that you almost feel bad for trying to push his limits. but a little part of you—it’s that gnawing insecurity, that need for reassurance—wants to see how much he’s willing to handle for you.
✧ it starts during a routine patrol around belobog. you walk beside him, pretending to be engrossed in your surroundings, but you’re really watching him out of the corner of your eye. his posture is as perfect as always, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, eyes scanning for any sign of trouble.
✧ "gepard," you say suddenly, interrupting the calm. he turns to you immediately, his expression softening. "yes?"
✧ you fake a dramatic sigh. "do you ever think you work too hard? like... maybe you’re so busy being a model captain that you don’t have time for other things?"
✧ his brows furrow slightly, clearly not expecting this question. "what do you mean?"
✧ "i mean, what if someone in your life needed more of your attention? would you even notice?"
✧ he stops walking, turning to face you fully. there’s a flash of concern in his blue eyes, and you almost feel guilty for how well this is working.
✧ "if someone needed me," he says, his voice steady but laced with worry, "i’d do everything in my power to be there for them. are you... trying to tell me something?"
✧ you wave your hand dismissively, laughing lightly. "oh, no, just a hypothetical. don’t worry about it." he doesn’t look convinced, but he nods and resumes walking, though you notice he stays closer to your side after that.
✧ later, you decide to push a little harder. when the two of you are back at the overworld base, you feign exhaustion, slumping dramatically onto a nearby bench.
✧ "i’m so tired," you complain, rubbing your temples. "today was so stressful. i don’t think i can even move."
✧ before you can say anything else, gepard is already at your side. he crouches slightly, his hands hovering awkwardly as if he’s not sure whether he should offer to help you up or just sit beside you.
✧ "you should have said something earlier," he says, his voice full of concern. "if you’re overworked, you need to take a break. here, let me—"
✧ you cut him off with a teasing smile. "what are you going to do, carry me around belobog like some kind of knight in shining armor?" he freezes for a moment, his cheeks flushing pink. "i mean... if you needed me to, i would."
✧ you weren’t expecting such a sincere answer, and it throws you off balance. your heart flutters, but you’re determined to keep the act going.
✧ "you’re too sweet, gepard," you say with a grin. "but don’t worry, i’m fine. just testing you a little." his blush deepens, and he shifts nervously. "testing me?"
✧ "yeah," you admit, leaning back against the bench. "just wanted to see how far you’d go for me."
✧ he frowns, clearly conflicted. "you don’t need to test me," he says quietly. "if something’s bothering you, you can just tell me. i’d rather you be honest than try to figure things out on your own."
✧ his words hit you harder than you expected, and you suddenly feel a little guilty.
✧ "you’re right," you mumble, looking down at your hands. "sorry, i didn’t mean to make you worry."
✧ he sighs softly, then sits beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. "it’s okay," he says after a moment. "i just... care about you. a lot. and i want you to know that you never have to doubt it."
✧ you glance at him, his expression as open and honest as ever, and your heart aches in the best way.
✧ "thanks, gepard," you say softly.
✧ he smiles, and it’s so warm and genuine that you know you didn’t need to test him in the first place. he’s always been exactly who he says he is—steadfast, caring, and utterly devoted.
✧ “please, don’t do that again. my heart can’t take it. but... i do care about you more than anything.”
dr. ratio
✧ dr. ratio sees through your “stress test” almost immediately, being as perceptive as he is.
✧ testing dr. ratio feels like trying to rattle an unshakable pillar—he’s sharp, meticulous, and composed to the point where you’re almost certain he’ll see through you immediately. but your curiosity gets the better of you. you want to see if the normally calm and collected doctor could ever crack, even slightly, under your antics.
✧ you decide to start small, choosing to "stress" him out during one of his intense research sessions.
✧ "dr. ratio," you call out from across the lab, your tone light and teasing.
✧ he doesn’t look up from his holopad. "yes?"
✧ "can you explain this to me again? i swear i just don’t get it."
✧ you hold up a tablet displaying a simple analysis you’re perfectly capable of interpreting. it’s the third time you’ve asked him about something today, and you’re sure he’s starting to notice.
✧ he sighs, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. "are you sure you’re not just overthinking it?"
✧ "maybe," you say, shrugging. "or maybe you’re just bad at explaining things."
✧ that earns you a sharp look, and for a split second, you think you’ve actually pushed too far. but then his lips twitch, a flicker of amusement breaking through his usual stoicism.
✧ "bad at explaining things?" he repeats, setting his holopad down. "are you testing my patience, or are you testing my intelligence?"
✧ "both," you reply with a cheeky grin. he chuckles softly, shaking his head. "if you wanted my attention, you could’ve just asked."
✧ despite his calm exterior, you notice the subtle way he shifts closer to you, his focus entirely on you now. you can’t help but feel a small thrill of triumph, though you know you’re playing with fire.
✧ later, you decide to up the stakes. while he’s meticulously organizing data, you lean against the desk, deliberately placing your hand over one of his charts.
✧ "do you ever think about taking a break?" you ask, tilting your head at him. "you work so much, it’s like you’re married to your lab."
✧ he arches an eyebrow, his gaze flicking to your hand covering his work. "and if i am? does that bother you?"
✧ "a little," you admit, your tone teasing. "what if you end up ignoring more important things?"
✧ he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he studies you. "and what would those ‘important things’ be?"
✧ his voice is calm, but there’s a glint in his eyes that makes you feel like you’ve walked right into his trap. "me, obviously," you say, trying to maintain your confidence.
✧ he hums thoughtfully, as if considering your words. then, without warning, he reaches out and gently flicks your forehead.
✧ "you’re not very subtle," he says, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
✧ "ouch," you say, rubbing your forehead with a pout. "was that necessary?"
✧ "completely," he replies smoothly. "if you’re going to test me, at least make it challenging."
✧ his words leave you flustered, and you quickly retreat from his desk, muttering something about needing fresh air. but later, when he finds you in the lounge, he sets a cup of tea in front of you without a word.
✧ "what’s this for?" you ask, looking up at him.
✧ "you seemed tense earlier," he says simply. "and since you’re so concerned about me ignoring important things, I thought I’d remind you that you’re one of them."
✧ your heart skips a beat at his casual declaration, and for once, you’re at a loss for words. he smirks at your reaction, clearly pleased with himself, before walking away, leaving you to process his unexpected yet reassuring gesture.
✧ turns out, dr. ratio isn’t so easy to test—but he makes it clear that he’s always paying attention.
✧ however, he sits you down for a serious talk afterward. “you don’t need to test me. i like you—that much should be obvious by now.”
aventurine
✧ aventurine takes your antics in stride but is clearly not one to tolerate nonsense for long.
✧ but in all seriousness it feels like you're trying to move a mountain. his steadfastness and confidence make it seem impossible to throw him off balance, but you’re determined to see how deep his patience and affection run. you tell yourself it’s just curiosity, but deep down, you crave the reassurance that this larger-than-life man truly feels the same way you do.
✧ it begins subtly, during one of his routine mineral inspections. he’s meticulously cataloging a haul of rare crystals when you decide to “help.”
✧ “aventurine, what’s this one called?” you ask, holding up a dazzling gem you already know the name of.
✧ he barely glances up, his deep voice calm and measured. “that’s a starshard geode. its structure is—”
✧ “wait, wait,” you interrupt, turning it over in your hands. “are you sure? it kinda looks like... a moonstone?”
✧ his head finally lifts, and he looks at you with a mixture of amusement and mild disbelief. “a moonstone? not even close. are you trying to challenge my expertise?”
✧ “maybe,” you tease, placing the gem back in the wrong compartment.
✧ he sighs, but there’s no frustration in his expression, only a patient shake of his head as he moves the gem back to its proper place. “you’re impossible,” he mutters, though there’s a small smile tugging at his lips.
✧ later, you decide to turn up the heat. as he’s polishing a massive chunk of raw celestium, you sit nearby, swinging your legs off the edge of the table.
✧ “aventurine,” you say sweetly.
✧ “mm?” he responds without looking up.
✧ “do you ever get tired of being around me?”
✧ that gets his attention. he pauses mid-polish, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as he turns to face you fully. “what kind of question is that?”
✧ you shrug, feigning nonchalance. “i mean, i can be annoying sometimes. don’t you ever just... wish for some peace and quiet?”
✧ he sets the celestium down with deliberate care and crosses his arms, his imposing figure suddenly feeling even larger.
✧ “you’re trying to get a reaction out of me,” he says plainly, his voice as steady as the ground beneath your feet.
✧ “what? me? no way,” you reply, trying to sound innocent.
✧ he steps closer, leaning down so his face is level with yours. his expression is serious, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his gaze.
✧ “if i wanted peace and quiet, i wouldn’t be here,” he says firmly. “do you really think i’d waste my time with someone i don’t care about?”
✧ his straightforwardness leaves you momentarily stunned, and he chuckles softly at your silence. “you don’t need to test me, you know,” he adds, his tone softening. “if you have doubts, just ask. i don’t like games, but i’ll always give you the truth.”
✧ you feel a pang of guilt for pushing him, but his reassurance warms your heart. “sorry,” you mumble, looking down. “i just wanted to be sure...”
✧ he reaches out, gently lifting your chin so you’re forced to meet his gaze.
✧ “then let me make it clear,” he says, his golden eyes unwavering. “you matter to me. and that’s not going to change, no matter how many gems you mislabel.”
✧ you laugh softly, the tension melting away as his words sink in. it was clear that his affection for you is as solid and enduring as the earth itself.
boothill
✧ boothill is rough around the edges but has a soft spot for you, so your little test catches him off guard.
✧ boothill's unmovable, stone-faced, and never shows signs of cracking, no matter what you throw his way. but that’s exactly why you’re so curious. you’ve seen his stoic side, his professionalism, and his dedication, but does that mean there’s any space for you in that heart of his? you decide to try and test the waters.
✧ it begins in a quiet moment, after a long mission. you’re both back at the base, sitting side by side on a bench. boothill is cleaning his weapon, his focus so intense that it feels like nothing in the world could distract him. you watch him for a moment, then decide to start.
✧ “boothill,” you call out softly.
✧ he doesn’t look up, but you see his fingers pause for a fraction of a second before he resumes cleaning his weapon.
✧ “yeah?”
✧ “do you ever wonder if you’re too... distant? i mean, you’re always so focused, so serious. don’t you ever need to relax a bit?”
✧ he glances at you now, his piercing gaze meeting yours for just a second. but he doesn’t answer right away, instead just continuing with his task.
✧ “relaxing isn’t exactly something i prioritize,” he replies with his usual calm. “there’s work to be done.”
✧ you scoff lightly, pushing your luck a little. “work, work, work. what about you, huh? when’s it your turn to... i don’t know, enjoy life? have some fun?”
✧ he looks at you then, and there’s something almost unreadable in his expression. his eyes soften just a fraction, and he lets out a small sigh.
✧ “if you think i don’t enjoy life, you’re wrong,” he says, voice low but surprisingly tender. “i just don’t need distractions.”
✧ you press a little more, feeling a mischievous spark inside you. “so, you’re saying you don’t need me to distract you?”
✧ boothill stops what he’s doing for a moment, and this time, he stares at you, really staring. for a split second, you think you’ve gone too far. but then he leans back, folding his arms across his chest, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
✧ “testing me, huh?” he says, his voice laced with dry amusement. “you’re a little more persistent than i expected.”
✧ you shrug nonchalantly, hoping your nonchalance hides the fact that your heart is pounding. “i just want to know if you care, boothill. i mean, you’re so... detached sometimes. how do i know it’s not all just professional to you?”
✧ his gaze softens, and for a brief moment, there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that catches you off guard. then, without warning, he reaches out and gently grabs your hand, pulling it into his lap.
✧ “care?” he murmurs, his thumb stroking the back of your hand in slow, deliberate movements. “i care more than you know.”
✧ your breath catches in your throat, and you feel the weight of his words settle over you like a blanket. the walls he’s built around himself are still there, but now, you realize that inside, there’s room for you.
✧ “you don’t need to test me for that,” he adds, his voice low and reassuring. “just... don’t expect me to show it the same way as everyone else.”
✧ you can feel the sincerity in his touch, in his gaze, and something inside you finally clicks. boothill’s love is subtle, understated, and a little rough around the edges, but it’s real.
✧ “i get it,” you whisper, squeezing his hand gently. “sorry for making you doubt me.”
✧ he chuckles quietly, a rare sound that makes your heart flutter. “you’re relentless. but that’s why i like you.”
✧ and there it is—he may not always wear his heart on his sleeve, but boothill’s love for you is unwavering, and that’s something you can rely on, even if it’s not always obvious.
gallagher
✧ gallagher is as easygoing as they come, but even he has limits.
✧ it starts innocently enough—just a playful attempt to poke at his carefully maintained composure. he’s in the middle of preparing a meal, the scent of fresh herbs and sizzling meat filling the air as he moves about the kitchen with his usual precision. you, however, are seated at the table, tapping your fingers lightly against the wood, watching him with a raised eyebrow.
✧ “gallagher,” you start, your voice casual but laced with curiosity.
✧ “hm?” he replies, glancing at you briefly before returning to his task.
✧ “how do you always manage to keep your cool? i mean, don’t you ever get tired of being so... well, perfect?”
✧ he doesn’t look up this time, but there’s a subtle shift in the air, like he’s sensing you’re trying to test him. his movements are smooth and measured, and he doesn’t skip a beat as he finishes plating the food.
✧ “there’s no point in losing composure over things that don’t matter,” he says matter-of-factly, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “chaos doesn’t make for a good meal.”
✧ you bite your lip, leaning back in your chair. “so, you’re saying everything has to be ‘in its place’ with you? even with people?”
✧ his hands freeze for just a moment, and you catch a flicker of something in his expression—maybe amusement, maybe something else. but it’s gone as quickly as it came. he finishes plating the meal with a soft sigh, setting the plate in front of you.
✧ “i’m not a machine, if that’s what you’re implying,” he says, finally meeting your gaze. “i’m not perfect. i just prefer things to be organized—helps with focus.”
✧ you raise an eyebrow, pushing a bit more. “oh? and does that mean you like it when people don’t mess with your focus? or is that just a ‘you’ thing?”
✧ gallagher pauses, studying you carefully. for a moment, the air is thick with tension, but then he smirks slightly, a glimmer of teasing in his eyes.
✧ “messing with my focus?” he repeats, his voice playful now. “is that what you’re doing? because, if i’m being honest, it’s working. you’ve got my attention now.”
✧ you blink, taken aback by his response. you expected him to brush it off, but instead, he steps closer, his presence a little more imposing now.
✧ “you know,” he continues, his tone lower, “you’re not as subtle as you think you are. but i’ll give you points for persistence.”
✧ you try to recover, but there’s something about the way he looks at you that leaves you speechless for a moment.
✧ “persistence?” you murmur, a little breathless.
✧ he nods, his smile softening just enough to show you that it’s genuine. “you’ve got a lot of questions, but i don’t need to play games with you. if you want answers, just ask. you don’t have to test me to find out if i’m interested.”
✧ his words hit you harder than you expected, and you realize that gallagher isn’t someone to hide his feelings. it’s not that he’s cold—he’s just direct. he’ll never say it in the way you might expect, but his actions speak louder than anything else.
✧ “i guess i’m just used to waiting for things to fall into place,” you admit, trying to play it cool.
✧ he leans in slightly, the faintest hint of humor in his eyes. “you don’t have to wait with me. i’m already here.”
✧ his tone is simple, but it carries a weight of meaning that makes your heart skip a beat. gallagher doesn’t do drama, but when he gives you his attention, it’s clear that he’s all in, no matter how much he might downplay it.
moze
✧ moze is a man of few words, and your antics genuinely confuse him. 😰��
✧ he's calm, composed, and always so serious, which makes you determined to break through that cold, unreadable exterior. you’ve decided to test his limits, just to see if you can get a real reaction out of him.
✧ it starts on a typical day after a mission. you’re sitting across from him in the common room, watching as he pores over some data logs. your usual routine involves making things just a little more interesting for him, because let’s face it—moze needs to lighten up.
✧ “moze,” you say, a grin tugging at your lips.
✧ he doesn’t look up, but you can see the slight twitch of his eyebrow. “what is it?”
✧ you make a show of examining the ceiling, tapping your chin dramatically. “have you ever wondered if the world is actually upside down? like, maybe gravity's all wrong, and we’re just... stuck to the floor by pure luck?”
✧ moze pauses for a split second, probably wondering how you can turn a perfectly normal moment into this. then, without missing a beat, he glances at you, deadpan.
✧ “if the world was upside down, i assume you'd be the one stuck on the ceiling by pure luck,” he says flatly, already returning to his work.
✧ you burst into laughter, but moze doesn’t even flinch, just continues typing, his expression still as composed as ever. he’s like a stone statue, and it’s honestly a little impressive.
✧ “okay, okay,” you say, wiping a tear from your eye. “let’s try something different.” you lean forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “do you ever get bored? you know, just sitting there all serious, pretending like you’re too busy to talk?”
✧ this time, he doesn’t even look up from his work. “bored? No. Are you trying to see how far you can push me before i snap?”
✧ you nod, trying not to smile too widely. “yep! How’s it going so far?”
✧ moze lets out a soft sigh, clearly unamused but still managing to hold his ground. “i’m doing great. You, on the other hand... are a handful.”
✧ “a handful? me?” you gasp dramatically, clutching your chest. “I’m hurt, moze. I’m just trying to keep things interesting around here!”
✧ his lips twitch ever so slightly, but it’s almost imperceptible. “you’re making it interesting... in the same way that throwing a tantrum in a library is interesting.”
✧ you tilt your head, pretending to consider this for a moment. “so, you’re saying you don’t like chaos?”
✧ “i like order,” he says, never looking away from the screen. “but if you’re asking if you can test my patience, then yes, you’re doing a very good job of that.”
✧ you giggle, thoroughly entertained by the way he’s handling you. "oh, come on, just admit it. you love the chaos! You secretly think it's hilarious when I mess with you."
✧ moze looks up at you for the first time in a while, his expression still all business but with the tiniest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “if by hilarious, you mean mildly irritating, then yes.”
✧ “mildly?!” you gasp in faux offense. “I’m doing my best here, moze! how could you rate my efforts so low?”
✧ he leans back slightly in his chair, finally breaking his stoic routine. “honestly, i’m impressed you’re still going. most people would’ve given up by now.”
✧ “well, i'm not ‘most people,’ am I?” you reply with a cheeky smile.
✧ he smirks ever so slightly, though it’s mostly to himself. “no. clearly.”
✧ you can’t help but giggle, because while moze definitely isn’t as easily rattled as others, it’s clear he’s starting to find the humor in your antics.
✧ “admit it, moze,” you tease. “i’m the most fun you’ve had all week.”
✧ he raises an eyebrow, finally closing the data pad and turning his full attention to you. “if by ‘fun’ you mean ‘annoying distraction,’ then yes.”
✧ you stick your tongue out at him playfully. “you love me, admit it.”
✧ moze chuckles dryly, though it’s far from his usual serious tone. “you’re impossible. But for some reason, i don’t mind.”
✧ “there it is!” you exclaim, pointing dramatically. “the confession! finally!”
✧ he sighs, but there’s a hint of fondness in his eyes now. “don’t push your luck. i’m still not letting you off the hook for the chaos you’ve caused.”
✧ you grin, leaning back in your seat, satisfied. “you can’t get rid of me that easily, moze. get used to it.”
✧ “i’m already used to it,” he mutters under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.
jiaoqiu
✧ jiaoqiu is calm and composed, but your “test” slowly chips away at his patience.
✧ his idea of "testing" his patience feels almost like trying to mess with a finely tuned recipe—you know that if you push too far, something could spoil, but you can't resist seeing how he’ll react. the thing about jiaoqiu is that he’s blind, but that doesn’t stop him from being as sharp as a knife when it comes to his senses. especially when it comes to cooking—his true passion.
✧ you’ve noticed something about him, though. the more you “stress” him, the more attentive he gets, in his own way. it’s kind of like the game’s in his favor, and you’re slowly realizing he might be playing right along with you.
✧ one evening, you’re hanging out in the kitchen with jiaoqiu, and you’ve already decided to take your "testing" to the next level. as he prepares some of his signature dishes—no surprise, they're the most complex meals imaginable, even though he can't see a thing—you're doing your best to throw him off.
✧ “jiaoqiu, are you sure you don’t want me to help with that? it looks... dangerous,” you tease, noticing the steam rising from the pot in front of him.
✧ “dangerous?” he repeats, clearly amused but not thrown off. he moves deftly around the kitchen, the sound of his chopping board in the background. “my dear, cooking isn’t dangerous unless you’re trying to make something impossible.”
✧ you laugh softly, leaning against the counter. “so, you’re saying if I started pulling the wrong spices out, you wouldn’t even notice?”
✧ he pauses, then lets out a small chuckle of his own. “i might not see it, but i can certainly smell it. and don’t think i don’t know when you’re reaching for something you shouldn’t be.”
✧ you feign shock, dramatically holding your hands up as if caught in the act. ���i would never! i have complete respect for your culinary expertise!”
✧ jiaoqiu hums, as if pondering your words, but then he continues his cooking with that quiet confidence he always carries. “you’d be more convincing if you didn’t have that mischievous glint in your eye.”
✧ your grin widens. it’s clear he’s onto you now, but you still try to push. “well, how would you know? You can't see, after all.”
✧ “true,” he replies calmly, “but i know the sounds of the kitchen well enough. if you were to drop something, or mess with the ingredients... i’d hear it. the rhythm of it all gives me a good idea of what’s happening.”
✧ you blink, stunned. you had been testing him, but jiaoqiu seems to always be one step ahead. how does he know? how can he be so confident?
✧ “and,” he adds, his voice still soft but with a hint of playfulness, “i know you, [your name].”
✧ you laugh, finally admitting defeat. “okay, okay! you got me. but seriously, how do you do it? how do you know where everything is?”
✧ he pauses his cooking and turns toward you, his voice warm yet full of humor. “let’s say i’ve had a lot of practice. and when you love something as much as i love cooking, you learn to rely on all your senses, not just sight. even when you can’t see, your other senses fill in the gaps.”
✧ you watch him work for a moment, and despite his lack of eyesight, he’s a master in the kitchen. it’s clear that his expertise comes from much more than just the act of cooking; it’s a connection to the ingredients, the textures, the sounds of each step.
✧ “okay, but what if i really messed something up? what if i did something totally wrong, just to mess with you?”
✧ he raises an eyebrow—something that’s only visible through his voice, but you get the feeling he’s smirking. “well, if you did that, i’d probably just end up fixing it before you even noticed. and then i’d make you do the dishes.”
✧ you groan, defeated but also thoroughly entertained. “you’re way too good at this.”
✧ “you’re the one testing me, not the other way around,” jiaoqiu reminds you, returning his focus to his cooking. but this time, you can hear the faint warmth in his tone, a reassurance that’s just for you. “but don’t worry, i’m not going to let you ruin dinner. even if you try to be a little mischievous.”
✧ there’s something comforting in the way he handles it all—the teasing, the games you play, even the mess-ups you deliberately throw his way. he may not be able to see you, but you know he can feel your presence, your energy, and you can’t help but feel safe in it. despite his teasing, despite the quiet confidence, jiaoqiu has a way of making everything feel just... right.
✧ “next time,” you say, grinning, “i’m going to really throw you off.”
✧ jiaoqiu just laughs softly, shaking his head as he finishes up his dish. “i’ll be waiting, [your name]. i’ll be waiting.”
✧ “but uh, next time, just ask me. there’s no need for this kind of... drama.”
sunday
✧ sunday is all sunshine and joy, but even he can get flustered when you start testing him.
✧ sunday is a halovian, with those distinct small fluffy wings nestled around his neck—adorably soft and always twitching with his every mood. you’ve learned that while he might seem all chill and sunny on the surface, he’s got his own quirks, and if you push him far enough, he’s more likely to play along than snap at you.
✧ one day, you’re lounging in the living area, and sunday’s sitting across from you, lazily flipping through a book. you can’t resist; it’s time for some mischief.
✧ “hey, sunday,” you call, trying to hide your grin.
✧ “yeah?” he replies, looking off guard. "have you ever been nervous before? like, nervous nervous?"
✧ “nervous? me? c’mon, i’m practically impossible to ruffle.” he gives you a lighthearted shrug, but you can see the playful challenge in his eyes. he’s used to keeping things breezy, but you’ve caught his attention now.
✧ you press on, deciding to have a little more fun with this. “oh really? well, let’s see... I’ve got a whole list of ways I could mess with you.”
✧ sunday doesn’t seem fazed at first, but you notice the way his fluffy wings twitch a little more with each word you say. it’s like a radar for his mood—you know he’s still calm, but there’s something in the way his feathers ruffle when he’s listening to you.
✧ “well, you’ll have to be a lot sneakier than that if you want to get under my skin,” he says, flashing you that signature grin of his, but now you can see a little spark of competitiveness in his eyes.
✧ you, of course, aren’t backing down. “let’s see if i can. hey, sunday, do you ever get tired of being all... perfect?” you ask, making air quotes around "perfect" with your hands.
✧ sunday’s wings flutter again, and this time, you catch the faintest shift in his posture. “perfect?” he asks, trying to play it off, but there’s a subtle twitch in the fluff near his neck. “you’re really gonna call me perfect? what’s wrong with that?”
✧ oh, he’s biting now. perfect. you lean in, voice teasing. “well, it just seems a little... too easy, don’t you think? i mean, you’re always so relaxed, always in control. how do you even do it?”
✧ you can see sunday’s lips twitch in amusement, and his wings give an exaggerated little flutter, like they’re bristling. he’s definitely aware now, but the best part is how he's trying to play it cool, still acting like he’s the one in control.
✧ “you really think i’ve got it all under control, huh?” he responds, a bit of a challenge creeping into his tone. “well, i guess i am pretty awesome. i mean, who could resist all this charm?” he gestures to himself dramatically, his wings fluffing out like he’s proud of the effect they have.
✧ you laugh, but don’t let up. “oh, i’m sure the charm works, but... do you ever get tired of being this smooth?” you tease, pretending to think it over. “i mean, surely you get a little flustered once in a while, right? just a little bit?”
✧ that’s when you see it—a small, barely perceptible shift. sunday’s wings twitch against his neck, brushing lightly as he tries to keep his expression neutral, but you catch it. there’s a softening in his demeanor, a slight heat creeping into his tone.
✧ “huh. so now i’m too smooth?” he teases, but it’s a little less confident now. “maybe you’re just getting good at finding my weak spots.”
✧ you smile, leaning back triumphantly. “maybe. or maybe you’re just too easy to read, sunday.”
✧ he narrows his eyes playfully, but you catch the small, almost imperceptible shift in his posture as his wings flutter just a little more. it's like they’re signaling his internal shift—he’s starting to realize you’re not just playing around.
✧ “okay, okay,” sunday says with a dramatic sigh, his wings now fully unfurled behind him like a soft, fluffy halo. he rubs the back of his neck and gives you a teasing look. “you wanna stress me out, huh? well, guess i’ll have to turn the tables a little.”
✧ with that, sunday leans closer, grinning mischievously. his wings brush against his neck again, this time on purpose, causing a soft, tickling sensation that makes you jump a little.
✧ “how’s this?” he asks, and now, you realize—he’s playing his own game. “i think we’re gonna see how you handle me.”
✧ sunday’s easygoing nature mixed with his unexpected turn in this little game makes it all the more fun. as he continues to toy with you, you can’t help but laugh at how well he’s handled your antics.
✧ “alright, alright,” you admit, finally letting the game end, “you win. i’ll stop testing your patience... for now.”
✧ his wings flutter triumphantly behind him as he gives you a mock salute, his grin still wide and playful. “you’re welcome to try again any time, [name]. but you should know—I don’t get flustered that easily. unless...” he pauses, giving you a teasing look, “...you do something even crazier next time.”
✧ you can’t help but smile back. sunday’s laid-back nature might be hard to crack, but it’s clear—he does enjoy the game, and in the end, he’s always up for a little bit of fun at your expense.
jing yuan
✧ jing yuan usually keeps his composure, but when you start “testing” his patience, he begins to crack ever so slightly.
✧ jing yuan is the epitome of calm, controlled elegance. he carries himself like a well-balanced scale, measured in his actions and words, always composed, always unfazed. but when you start testing him that balance teeters, just a little, though he’s careful to maintain his outward serenity.
✧ you know he's a man of patience, but every person has their breaking point—and you're curious to see how far you can push his.
✧ it all starts innocently enough, a bit of teasing and mild mischief on your part. you might "accidentally" misplace his paperwork, or maybe ask him endless trivial questions when you know he’s buried in his work. you’re not being cruel, of course—just playful, testing the waters to see if he’ll falter.
✧ he humors you at first, a chuckle escaping his lips when you ask something particularly silly. “what is it, my dear?” he asks, a gentle smile tugging at his lips, his golden eyes never leaving his work. “another question for me?”
✧ but as the questions come one after another, you start to notice a shift. his pen slows, and for a moment, his fingers still. he leans back in his chair, gaze lifting to meet yours.
“you’re playing a dangerous game, my dear,” he says, his voice low, but laced with amusement. “are you testing me to see if i’ll lose interest? because i can assure you, i won’t.”
✧ there’s a sharpness to his tone now, the calm facade slipping just slightly. it's subtle, but you catch it—a flicker of something deeper behind his eyes. his gaze darkens with an unreadable emotion, and for the first time, you wonder if you've pushed him too far.
✧ but you’re not one to back down easily, so you keep going, shifting the game into a new gear. you become a little more persistent, trying to get under his skin without being too obvious. you ask more ridiculous questions, throw in more distractions, all in the name of seeing how he reacts. surely, a man like jing yuan, so steady and composed, would get annoyed eventually, right?
✧ you watch him for a long moment, his gaze steady and unwavering. His fingers tap lightly on the edge of the desk, his lips curling into a knowing smile.
✧ "is that what you're after?" he asks, his voice softer, but with a certain challenge in it. "you wish to see how far i'll bend? to see if i can be swayed by such... antics?"
✧ your breath catches in your throat, and you wonder if you’ve finally crossed the line. but instead of growing irritated, jing yuan does something entirely unexpected. he sets his pen down with a deliberate motion and stands up, walking around to your side of the desk. his presence looms over you in the most comforting, yet commanding way.
✧ before you can even react, he reaches for your hand, his touch warm and steady. “i can’t help but wonder…” he begins, his voice dipping into something more intimate, more affectionate than you were prepared for. “did you think you could test me without consequences?”
✧ you blink up at him, the playful tension suddenly replaced by a sense of vulnerability. there’s something in his eyes now, a deep knowing.
✧ without waiting for an answer, he leans down, his lips brushing lightly against your ear. “you’re not the only one who can play games, [name],” he murmurs, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.
✧ you’re thrown off balance. the tables have turned, and now it’s you who’s feeling slightly flustered. where you were once testing him, now he’s testing you. he’s suddenly more attentive, more affectionate, drawing you in with every word, every touch.
✧ he chuckles softly when he sees your reaction, his golden eyes glinting with amusement. “you didn’t think i’d let you have all the fun, did you?” he teases. “i must admit, i’m rather enjoying this.”
✧ you open your mouth to respond, but all you manage is a soft laugh, caught between trying to keep your composure and wanting to give in to the sudden wave of warmth he’s throwing your way.
✧ “alright, jing yuan,” you say, trying to maintain your cool, but failing miserably. “i’ll admit defeat... for now.”
✧ his smile widens, a gentle but confident grin. “defeat? no, my dear. this isn’t about defeat. this is about knowing where we stand. and now that i’ve shown you, i expect no more games.”
✧ his words hang in the air like a promise, and you realize he’s not just testing you—he’s reassuring you, in his own way. with him, you never had to worry about being lost in his affection, because it’s clear: he’s always there, steady as ever.
✧ and just like that, the game you started has ended—only now, it’s more than you ever expected.
dan heng
✧ dan heng is the embodiment of calm and collected. his reserved nature and stoic expression almost never crack, even under the most trying of circumstances. it takes a lot to throw him off balance, which is why you’ve made it your mission to see if you can break that calm demeanor of his—just a little.
✧ at first, you start small. maybe you ask him to help you with something you’re perfectly capable of doing yourself, like reaching for a book you’re clearly just a bit too lazy to grab. you catch him off guard, but as expected, he’s kind enough to help without comment.
✧ “thank you, dan heng,” you say with an exaggerated sigh of relief.
✧ he gives you a short, quiet nod, his expression unchanged. “it’s no trouble,” he mutters, though there’s a faint suspicion in his voice.
✧ you smile innocently, but it’s not lost on you how quickly he’s growing aware of your game. so, you keep at it, asking for more and more “help” with things you’re fully capable of doing on your own. every time he obliges, you see his eyes narrow ever so slightly, and you can almost feel the gears turning in his head as he processes what's going on.
✧ “dan heng,” you ask one day, leaning into the playful tension between you two, “could you pass me the salt?” the shaker’s right in front of you, of course.
✧ there’s a long pause. his gaze flicks over to the salt shaker, then back to you, his brow furrowing just the tiniest bit. “you’re not really that helpless, are you?” he asks, his voice quiet but sharp.
✧ you feign surprise. “i’m not? you sure?”
✧ he doesn’t respond right away, his fingers tapping lightly on the surface of the table. you can practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes.
✧ “i know you’re not,” he says finally, voice even but tinged with a little irritation now. “so, what are you trying to prove?”
✧ you chuckle softly, realizing you’ve definitely gotten under his skin now. but it’s more out of curiosity than malice—you want to see how far you can go before he snaps, how long he’ll let you test him before he turns the tables.
✧ “oh, nothing,” you say innocently. “just wanted to see if you’d do it without asking questions.”
✧ dan heng’s eyes narrow, and for the first time in this little game, he seems to truly study you, as if trying to gauge your intentions.
✧ “you’re not as subtle as you think,” he finally says, his tone firm but not unkind. “you’re trying to get a reaction out of me, aren’t you?”
✧ you grin, leaning back with a satisfied look. “maybe... what’s the harm?”
✧ dan heng stands up from his seat, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he slowly gathers his things. you know you’ve pushed him a little, but you’re unsure if he’s genuinely upset or just playing along.
✧ “fine,” he mutters. “you want a reaction? here it is.”
✧ you blink as he steps closer, his usual reserved demeanor slipping as he looks down at you with a slight, almost imperceptible frown. “if i didn’t care about you, i wouldn’t even be here, helping you with these ridiculous requests. so, stop trying to push my patience.”
✧ you freeze for a moment, surprised at how direct and blunt he’s being. there’s no anger in his words—just a quiet frustration, the kind that comes from realizing how much you’ve been testing him.
✧ he lets out a short laugh, shaking his head as if he can’t quite believe what he’s dealing with. “honestly, i’m not sure if you’re trying to get me to lose my patience or just see how far you can push me.”
✧ you smile sheepishly, knowing you’ve been a little relentless with your “tests.” “i guess a bit of both,” you admit, but there’s a softness in your voice now. “i just wanted to see if you’d care enough to call me out on it.”
✧ dan heng sighs deeply, but now there’s a warmth to his expression that wasn’t there before. he steps closer and places a hand gently on your shoulder, the touch more tender than you expected. “i care enough to call you out, even if it means putting up with your nonsense.”
✧ it’s quiet for a moment, but you can feel the sincerity in his words. you’ve definitely ruffled his calm, but in a way that shows just how much he’s paying attention, how much he truly cares for you.
✧ you laugh lightly, not expecting him to be so honest about it, but secretly glad to know you’ve gotten through to him. “i’ll try not to test you so much, okay?”
✧ dan heng shakes his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “i’ll believe it when i see it.”
welt yang
✧ welt, being the mature and experienced gentleman he is, notices your little “test” immediately.
✧ the man is used to dealing with delicate matters, whether in his long history of research, his time as a historian, or the countless responsibilities that come with leading in times of crisis. so, when you start testing his patience, you know it’s going to take a lot more than a small inconvenience to shake him. that being said, you enjoy challenging him, just a little, to see how far you can push him.
✧ you start off small, of course. asking him the most trivial questions when he’s in the middle of reading one of his ancient books. “hey, welt,” you say sweetly, “do you think this book is boring?” the book’s not even in your hands, and he knows that you’re probably more interested in him than in the actual content of the text.
✧ at first, he doesn’t mind. he chuckles softly and lowers the book, humoring you with a small smile. “if i’m being honest, i would say it depends on your taste in reading. but you do know i can’t really afford distractions right now, right?”
✧ you smile, but this isn’t nearly enough to throw him off. you push again, dropping little hints like the fact that he’s been at his desk for hours on end and could probably use a break. you make a comment about how he’s always so serious, so focused, and maybe you should help him lighten up.
✧ “you know,” you tease, “you work too hard. you should take a break. come on, just for a minute?”
✧ welt sets the book down and looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “i’m not sure if i would call it ‘work’ if i’m doing something i enjoy, but i do appreciate the concern. perhaps you have something else in mind to keep me occupied?”
✧ his tone is light, playful even, but there’s something in his eyes that suggests he’s well aware of your intentions. he’s not the type to get easily upset, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t picked up on your little game.
✧ “you really know how to throw me off track, don’t you?” he says with a smile, clearly amused by your antics. “is this your way of seeing how far i’ll go before i lose my cool?”
✧ you grin, not backing down. “maybe. you seem so calm all the time. i wanted to know if i could make you flinch, just a little.”
✧ welt lets out a soft laugh, leaning back in his chair. “you’re testing me now, aren’t you? i suppose i should’ve expected as much from you.”
✧ you notice his hands move to the side of his glasses, adjusting them ever so slightly, and that’s when you realize: he’s fully aware of what’s going on.
✧ “you know, it’s cute that you think i’m impervious to distractions,” he continues, clearly enjoying your playful attempts. “but perhaps you underestimate how well i’ve learned to focus in the midst of chaos.”
✧ you can’t help but laugh at that, realizing that no matter how hard you try, you’re not going to make him flinch. he’s too smooth, too used to handling these kinds of things.
✧ “maybe i should stop testing you,” you say, a bit sheepishly. “you’re just too good at staying calm.”
✧ welt smiles knowingly. “i’ve had plenty of practice, but if you really want to test me further, i’m sure there are other ways to do so.” he leans forward, raising an eyebrow, his voice turning just a bit teasing. “but i’m not so easily caught off guard, dear. if you want to see me lose my composure, you’ll have to be a little more creative.”
✧ you blink in surprise at how easily he flipped the situation on its head, and then it dawns on you: you’ve just been outplayed.
✧ he notices the realization in your expression and gives you an amused glance. “now, if you’re really interested, i can give you some advice on how to keep your distractions less obvious in the future. but don’t expect me to fall for it again so easily.”
✧ you can’t help but laugh. “alright, alright, you win this round.”
✧ welt chuckles softly, picking up his book again. “it’s not about winning or losing, but about knowing how to handle what comes your way. and if you ever need a distraction, you know where to find me.”
✧ “but do you know, if you want reassurance, you only need to ask. i don’t play games when it comes to my feelings for you.” my man does NOT play when it comes to you!! 🙅♀️ 🙅♀️
blade
✧ he is stoic, so basically this feels like poking a sleeping tiger. you’d try to stress him out by being overly affectionate in public or daringly teasing him in front of the stellaron hunters.
✧ blade is a man of few words, and even fewer smiles. so when you start poking at him, trying to get a rise out of him, you know you’re walking a fine line. but that’s exactly what you want, isn’t it? to see just how much you can push before he cracks.
✧ it starts with small, playful jabs. teasing him about his stoic nature, of course. you know he’s not the type to express himself easily, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to bring out something more from him.
✧ “blade, do you ever smile? i think i’d faint if i saw it.”
✧ you say it with a mischievous grin, watching for any sign of a reaction. his first response is the usual – a glare that could melt steel. but there’s something else in his eyes, a flicker of something that tells you he’s holding back a smirk. deep down, you know he secretly enjoys your antics.
✧ “you’re really trying to get me to laugh, aren’t you?” he says, his voice low and steady, though it has a hint of something playful beneath it.
✧ you push further, though, not willing to let up so easily. “come on, blade. you can’t possibly be that serious all the time. it’s like you’re stuck in permanent brooding mode.”
✧ and that’s when the situation takes a turn. before you can even process it, he grabs your wrist with surprising speed, pulling you close, his voice dropping even lower, sending a shiver down your spine.
✧ “you think i’d waste my time with someone i didn’t care about? don’t test me.”
✧ his words come with an intensity that you didn’t expect, his presence so overpowering that it almost takes the air out of your lungs. you blink, momentarily taken aback, but you don’t back down. the playful teasing lingers in the air, even though you can tell that you’ve crossed the line.
✧ but blade, in his own way, seems to realize that. after a moment, he releases his grip on your wrist, letting out a quiet sigh. the edge of his tone softens, just slightly.
✧ “you’re important to me,” he mutters, his voice low but genuine. “stop doubting that.”
✧ there’s no grand declaration, no flowery words. just the blunt honesty of a man who’s difficult to read, yet in his own way, he’s showing you something far deeper than what words could ever convey.
✧ you watch him for a moment, realizing that, despite all his coldness, there’s a warmth buried deep beneath the surface – one that he’s not so quick to reveal, but it’s there, unmistakable in its own quiet way.
✧ “i guess i’ll just have to take your word for it, huh?” you say with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood once more.
✧ blade doesn’t respond with a smile, but the slightest hint of amusement flickers in his eyes. and maybe, just maybe, that’s his version of a win.
sampo koski
✧ sampo loves games, so he immediately plays along with your little “test.”
✧ sampo has always been the life of the party, the one with a smile on his face and a witty comeback ready for anything. so when you start throwing him off with your uncharacteristic seriousness, it’s like throwing a wrench in his well-oiled machine of flirtations.
✧ you don’t laugh at his jokes, you don’t play along with his flirtations, and you certainly don’t give him the usual banter he’s used to. instead, you respond with an almost eerie level of calm.
✧ “oh? no witty comeback today? you’re scaring me, sweetheart,” he teases, leaning back, watching you with an exaggerated frown as though he’s genuinely concerned. you can see the twinkle in his eyes, but he’s trying to hold it together.
✧ at first, you don’t budge. you just stare at him, deadpan, giving nothing away.
✧ he blinks a few times, clearly thrown off. then, he lets out a dramatic sigh. “oh no, what’s happening? is this… a breakup? did i mess up somehow? what did i do wrong? i can change! i swear, i’ll stop with the flirtations—i’ll even stop trying to steal your snacks!" he says, eyes widening as though he's on the verge of a crisis.
✧ the way he overacts is so ridiculous that it’s hard to keep a straight face. but you’re committed, your expression still unreadable as you let him stew in the nonsense he’s coming up with.
✧ when you finally can’t hold it in anymore and let out a soft laugh, his entire demeanor shifts. in an instant, his playful grin is back, and he pulls you into a sudden hug.
✧ “sweetheart, if i didn’t like you, i wouldn’t stick around this long. but nice try!” he says between chuckles, his voice playful and warm.
✧ you can’t help but smile at his antics. he may act like he’s been genuinely stressed out, but deep down, you know he’s been enjoying every minute of your teasing.
✧ he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes sparkling mischievously. “you really had me going there for a second. but hey, now i know you care enough to test me. i’ll take it as a compliment.”
✧ you shake your head, still amused by his dramatic performance. “don’t ever change, sampo.”
✧ he winks at you, his usual grin returning in full force. “don’t worry, sweetheart, i’m never going to change… unless it’s to make you laugh more.”
luocha
✧ luocha is patient and gentle, but even he has his limits. you’d try to test him by asking endless hypothetical questions about relationships or intentionally making vague statements about your feelings.
✧ when you start throwing questions his way, testing his patience with doubts about his feelings, you know he’ll handle it with the same serenity he always exudes. but the longer it goes on, the more you start to wonder if you’re pushing him too far.
✧ “what if someone better came along?” you ask casually, watching his expression for a hint of reaction. it’s a harmless question in your mind, but you can tell he takes it seriously.
✧ he pauses, his hand resting gently on his chin, thinking it through before answering with his usual calmness. “if someone better came along, then you’d deserve to find happiness with them, just as I would wish for your happiness no matter the circumstances.”
✧ his response isn’t what you expected. it’s thoughtful, selfless, and it makes you question your own intentions. but you can’t help yourself – you press on, seeking reassurance in the form of his steady words.
✧ “but what if you don’t feel the same as you did before? what if you find someone who catches your eye more than me?”
✧ luocha’s gaze softens as he listens to your words. there’s no anger in his eyes, no irritation. only concern, as if he’s trying to understand why you would even think such a thing. his voice remains calm, but now there’s a slight edge to it, as if the question weighs on him more than you realize.
✧ “are you trying to test me?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, his brow furrowing just enough to show he’s genuinely curious. “i hope you know i mean every word i’ve said to you. my feelings are not something i take lightly.”
✧ you’re taken aback, your mind racing as you realize just how much this is affecting him. you weren’t trying to hurt him; you just wanted to see if he truly cared. but now, the weight of your questions hangs heavy in the air.
✧ seeing the uncertainty in your eyes, he lets out a small, almost imperceptible sigh. he reaches out, taking your hand in his, offering you a reassuring smile that radiates warmth.
✧ “there’s no need for doubt,” he says softly, his voice gentle yet firm. “my feelings for you are genuine, and they won’t change based on fleeting insecurities. you are the only one i see, the only one i care for.”
✧ his words carry a weight that resonates deep within you, his sincerity undeniable. you feel a warmth spread through your chest, a sense of relief washing over you.
✧ “i’m sorry,” you say, a little embarrassed by how far you’ve pushed him. “i didn’t mean to make you doubt how much i care.”
✧ luocha chuckles softly, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. “it’s alright,” he says, his voice filled with understanding. “i know you’re just seeking reassurance. but i hope this is enough to put your mind at ease.”
✧ you nod, grateful for his patience and the depth of his affection. his unwavering calmness and the way he handles your doubts only make you feel even more certain that, with him, you never need to worry about someone else coming along.
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the price to pay when you’re a passenger princess.
You knew that there had to be a catch when Bakugou said he’d pick you up after your 12-hour shift at the hospital. But the thing was, you were too exhausted to dwell on the thought.
Or so you thought.
“You look dead on your feet,” he commented as he opened the door for you.
“Thanks for the compliment,” you replied dryly, tossing your bag into the backseat. “And they say chivalry is dead.”
The sleek, jet-black Porsche 911 Turbo S roared through the empty streets like a predator on the hunt, the low rumble of the engine vibrating through your very soul. Bakugou, of course, looked completely at ease, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel, the other on the gear shift, a calm expression seen on his face.
You’ve come to understand that your husband was relatively calm when not provoked.
“Katsuki,” you started as the car picked up speed, “you do realize this is still a hospital zone, right? Maybe don’t speed like you’re in a Fast and Furious movie.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You literally just did.”
“Relax,” he drawled, shifting gears with precision. “You know I’ve got this.”
You, on the other hand, were internally reciting every safety procedure you could think of in case of an unfortunate circumstance to come.
“Should I call my assistant to make an appointment in advance?”
Bakugou snorts. “What? Don’t trust me?”
“Oh, I trust you. It’s the laws of physics I don’t trust,” you muttered under your breath, earning a low chuckle from him.
The worst part? There was barely any traffic this late at night, which only encouraged Bakugou to push the limits of what his new Porsche could do. You glanced at the speedometer and instantly regretted it.
“Katsuki, I swear to God—”
“What? It’s not like I’m breaking the speed limit,” he said with mock innocence, though the mischievous glint in his eyes told you he knew exactly what he was doing.
The Prefectural Government’s Public Safety Commissions should really revoke his license one of these days. Or you might not live to see the next one.
“By less than two!”
You leaned your head back against the seat, staring at the darkened city skyline as it blurred past you. You were exhausted from your shift, your feet aching, bone tired, but all of that was being drowned out by the overwhelming sensation of your life flashing before your very eyes.
You double-checked your seatbelt again. It’s never too late to actually be safe.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he said without taking his eyes off the road.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re about to yell at me for being too hot and good at everything.”
“Wow? The audacity of my husband making such a bold claim,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him. “Have I fed your ego too much that you’re about to float away like a hot-air balloon?”
“Didn’t deny my claim.” He got you there.
You couldn’t argue with that.
“Just so you know,” you muttered, clutching the grab handle even tighter as he effortlessly weaved between two cars, “if I die tonight, I’m haunting you. And I’ll make sure to mess with you when you’re trying to sleep.”
“Good,” he said with a grin, finally glancing your way. “At least then you’d be with me all the time, huh?”
You stared at him, momentarily speechless. “Are you seriously flirting with me right now? While you’re driving like a maniac?”
“Who says I can’t multitask?”
Before you could fire back with another retort, the car slowed as you neared your apartment complex. Your death grip on the handle loosened ever so slightly, though your heart was still racing.
When Bakugou finally parked, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You unbuckled your seatbelt, your hands still trembling a little.
“I hate you.”
“Love you too or whatever.”
“I—wait, you actually said it.”
“What? Can’t a man just say he loves his wife?”
“Good point, but you rarely say it!”
“I pick you up after your every shift and make sure you don’t die of starvation or poor health. That’s enough than saying it, no?”
“But you said it! So it’s different.”
“Not.”
“It is!”
“Not.”
“Is!”
Terrifying car rides aside, there was no one else you’d rather be stuck with. Even if your husband drove you absolutely crazy—both on and off the road. This must be the price of being Bakugou Katsuki’s passenger princess.
SEUMYO © 2025, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.
#‹𝟹 𓏲🗒️ꜝֶָ֢ ʾʾ#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#bakugou x y/n#bakugou drabble#bakugou fluff#mha x reader#mha fluff#mha drabbles#bnha x reader#bnha fluff#bnha drabble#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#bnha bakugou#mha bakugou#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugou#bnha bakugo katsuki#bnha bakugou katsuki#mha bakugo katsuki#mha bakugou katsuki
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DUMB PETALS ᯓ★ bakugou katsuki. fluff / f ! reader in mind (just in case) / in my head i want them to be engaged / katsuki who amps up his acts of service and gifts because you’re engaged :p / not proofread
katsuki who says “huh? don’t be stupid.” when you ask for flowers but deep down he’s really pissed off cause you beat him to it.
now, he has to one up you.
you don’t get any flowers at all, it’s been a week since your request too. you begin to wonder if he just didn’t want to bother, which made you a little bit sad. his affection never changed though. you think that maybe, he just didn’t have the time to since the demand for heroes were high recently.
then one day he tells you to wear something nice and get in the car. though you’re still a little sulky, thinking about how he ignored your request (you never brought it up again). he pulls you up from the bed to change “stop acting like a brat.” he says while pulling down your top from your head acting difficult and having him dress you himself. (vocally complains, internally is satisfied).
and he drives, acting all casual, acting like normal and you didn’t know why he wanted to leave so suddenly, nor where he wanted to go.
parks somewhere, gets out, opens your door before he leads you to where he wanted you to be. and when you reach the destination your eyes widen from shock.
“here’s your dumb flowers. a whole fucking field of them.” he says acting all tough, but seeing your reaction he can’t help but say it with a soft smile.
and you look at the pretty field of your favorite flowers (which you never specified, by the way) and you’re not sure how this was even possible but he was always able to, and you’re so grateful for him.
before you know it, you’re looking at him as your lips quivered, unaware how you’re tearing up because of this.
katsuki pulls you into a warm hug while the lovely scent of its petals flew around you both. “aww well aren’t you so fucking romantic?” and he couldn’t help but chuckle while you sniffle in between words.
“yeah yeah, i love you too.” pulling you in a gentle kiss.
you took so many pictures with him in the field. he even brought a basket for you so you can pick them to bring home.
now you have to be extra careful asking for something. maybe you should just stick to giving hints again. besides, he’ll always know what you exactly want.
do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works
note : they are two wolves inside me. katsuki and his simplistic way to show his affection, and katsuki with grand gestures there is no in between and today i chose the latter
#bnha fluff#mha fluff#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#mha x reader#bnha x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugo fluff#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugou fluff#bakugou fluff#bakugou katsuki fluff#bakugo fluff#my hero academia fluff#ᦾִ❤︎ by cola
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helping hand
written for round one of @steddiebingo and the 12 days of Christmas mini-event | prompts: help & thigh fucking | rating: e | wc: 2,1k | no cw | tags: eddie lives, sharing a bed, hand jobs, thigh fucking, cuddling
read on ao3
According to Wayne, Eddie can sleep through anything.
It’s why he was late to school pretty much every day. That and the fact that he didn’t give a shit about it– but mostly because he always slept through his alarm clock.
But the thing is that to sleep through anything he needs to be asleep to begin with. And right now he can’t fall asleep because Steve hasn’t stopped tossing and turning in the past hour.
When Eddie comes close to falling asleep for what feels like the hundredth time only for Steve to twist around again, he can’t help but let out a frustrated sigh.
Steve freezes as he’s fixing the blanket around him. “Um, did I wake you?” he asks in a tiny voice.
“I’d have to be asleep for you to wake me up, big boy.”
Running his hands down his face, Steve groans. “Shit, sorry, man.”
“‘S fine, Stevie.” He gives Steve a sidelong glance. Thanks to the moonlight filtering through the window he can see that he’s frowning. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just– Can’t sleep.”
“I got that much, dude,” Eddie says with a snort. He hesitates, biting his lip nervously. “Um, is it because of me?”
It might’ve been Steve who suggested they shared his bed tonight, but maybe he changed his mind or maybe he only did it because he was trying to be polite and he expected Eddie to turn down the offer–
Steve frantically shakes his head. “No! No–”
Eddie isn’t convinced. “Are you sure? Because I can go–”
“No,” Steve says, more firmly this time. “Eddie, I promise, I’m just restless, s’all.”
Eddie relaxes. “Okay, yeah, I get that. It happens to me a lot, especially after– you know.”
“Yeah,” Steve sighs in sympathy. “So what do you do? When it happens?”
“Uh–” Eddie hesitates, a little worried that answering truthfully might make sharing a bed a bit awkward. Oh fuck it, he thinks. It was Steve who asked. “I usually just– you know, jerk off.”
Steve inhales sharply. He lets out a tiny, “Oh.”
And there’s the awkwardness.
Before Eddie can offer to take the couch again, Steve asks, “Does that, um– does that work for you?”
Eddie huffs a laugh. “Oh, like a charm. Makes me sleep like a baby.”
“I could use some of that,” Steve sighs longingly.
Eddie agrees– he’s noticed the black smudges under Steve’s eyes. “Well, I could, uh– go to the bathroom for a while if you want to–”
Steve sputters. “I’m not gonna ask you to go to the bathroom so I can jerk off!”
“Fine, then you can go to the bathroom. I’ll cover my ears, I promise,” Eddie says, trying to act casual but the truth is that if Steve actually took him up on the offer, Eddie’s brain would melt out of his ears just from knowing Steve is jerking off in the next room.
“Jesus, how loud do you think I am, man?” Steve asks with an incredulous laugh.
Eddie shrugs nonchalantly. “I don’t know, it’s not like I’ve given it much thought.” He has given it plenty of thought actually but Steve doesn’t need to know that. “Just trying to be helpful here, Stevie.”
“There’s something else you could do if you want to help,” Steve whispers after a short silence. He sounds strangely shy, nervous. He can’t possibly mean–
“Steve,” Eddie says, trying to keep his voice leveled. “Are you asking me to get you off?”
There’s a short moment where Steve doesn’t say anything and Eddie worries that he just made things even more awkward by assuming that’s what he meant, but before he can spiral he hears Steve’s soft reply. “Maybe.”
What the fuck?
“What the fuck?” Eddie mutters out loud though mostly to himself but Steve hears it anyway and lets out a panicked yelp.
“Christ, you know what? That was stupid.”
“Steve–”
But Steve ignores him, rolling on his side, away from Eddie, and as far as he can without falling off the bed. “Forget I said anything, you don’t have to–”
“I want to!” Eddie blurts out, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “Uh, if– if it will help you.”
“Eddie, I can’t ask you to do that,” Steve says, still facing away from Eddie.
“I’m offering,” he says. This isn’t the kind of thing that happens to him and it definitely won’t be happening twice but he wants it– God, does he want it– so he moves closer, putting his hand on Steve’s waist, hearing his sharp intake of breath. “Let me help you, sweetheart.”
Steve’s entire body shudders. “Okay,” he breathes out. “Please, Eddie.”
Oh, shit.
Just the thought of doing this is enough to make Eddie’s blood rush downward, making his dick half hard so he’s careful to keep his hips angled away from Steve’s back as he scoots closer to him, moving his hand from Steve’s waist to his lower stomach, feeling his skin erupt in goosebumps beneath his touch.
“I got you, Stevie,” he whispers, fingers moving down, playing with Steve’s happy trail. He’s already panting and Eddie still hasn’t even touched him.
Jesus fucking Christ, he needs to touch him.
He slides his hand lower until his knuckles bump against Steve’s cock over his boxers. “You’re already half hard, sweetheart? Is this what was actually keeping you up?”
Steve lets out a low moan. He didn’t ask Eddie for a running commentary, just a helping hand, but Eddie can’t stop himself. He’s a loud guy through and through, so unless Steve tells him to shut up, he’ll keep running his mouth. Steve seems to be into it anyway.
He lazily strokes Steve’s cock over his boxers to get him to full hardness. Fuck, he’s big, Eddie thinks. He can’t wait to feel Steve’s hot skin–
“Can I touch you?” Eddie whispers into his ear.
“Yes, yeah,” Steve agrees quickly.
So Eddie slips his hand inside Steve’s boxers, sighing happily when he wraps his fingers around his hard length.
The touch makes Steve throw his head back with a groan, almost smashing it against Eddie’s nose. Thankfully he doesn’t, even though not even a bloody nose would make Eddie give up the chance to get Steve off.
However he does prop himself up with the arm he isn’t using to touch Steve so his head rests against Eddie’s shoulder so as to not risk an injury– and because it allows him to peer over Steve’s shoulder and watch how his hand looks wrapped around his cock.
And God the sight gets Eddie to full hardness, making his mouth water.
He starts stroking him slowly, gathering the precum from the tip and smearing it down and around Steve’s cock but it’s not enough.
When he lets go entirely, Steve whines, hips thrusting forward, chasing after Eddie’s touch.
Eddie shushes him gently. “‘M not going anywhere, sweetheart. Here, spit,” he says, holding his hand close to Steve’s mouth. He does as he’s told without hesitation. Eddie can’t stop himself from kissing Steve’s nape. “Good boy.”
“Oh, G-god,” Steve moans brokenly. It trails off into a high-pitched whine when Eddie wraps his hand around him again, the slide of his hand smoother now from Steve’s spit.
He pumps him loosely. “Better?”
“Y–yeah,” Steve manages, panting now.
The elastic of his boxers makes Eddie’s movements a little clumsy but Steve fixes it by jerkily shoving them down. While doing that, his ass presses back against Eddie’s front and there’s no way for him to hide that he’s fully hard in his own boxers.
But instead of shoving Eddie away or calling him out on it, Steve groans and shuffles back until Eddie’s chest presses against his back and Eddie’s cock is nestled against Steve’s now naked ass.
“Fucking– fuck,” Eddie chokes out, momentarily stopping his hand so he can get his breathing over control.
“Eddie–” Steve whines, his hips twitching and fucking his cock into Eddie’s fist. It pushes his ass back against Eddie’s crotch, which does little to help Eddie focus.
“‘M here, baby,” Eddie whispers, his teeth clamped over his lip. Steve’s hips are still moving–
But he starts stroking him again, reminding himself that this is about Steve.
“Oh God, yes,” he moans loudly.
“Fuck, I knew you’d be loud,” Eddie mutters in awe.
Steve lets out a choked laugh. “I thought– I thought you didn’t give it much– oh fuck, much thought.”
“I fucking lied,” Eddie admits with a scoff.
“I– I lied too,” Steve says, his breath coming faster when Eddie tightens his grip. “You were the reason, fuck– the reason why I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking, oh God– thinking about how I wanted to be doing this instead.”
Something hot burns in Eddie’s stomach. “Well, sweetheart. All you had to do was ask.”
“Can– can I ask for something else?” Steve says shyly despite him currently grinding his ass against Eddie in an obscene way.
“Anything.”
“Fuck my thighs?” He asks, twisting his neck so he can look at Eddie, his eyes half-lidded, his pupils blown wide.
Eddie is pretty sure his brain momentarily short circuits.
When he doesn’t reply right away, Steve blindly reaches behind him, his hand connecting with Eddie’s hip. He clumsily tugs on his boxers, trying to get them off.
It snaps Eddie out of it. “Yes, yeah, fucking– yeah,” he mutters, momentarily letting go of Steve so he can shove his boxers down, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach.
He gives himself a few strokes– to take the edge off and to spread the precum along his length until his cock is wet and shiny.
“Come here,” Steve says and Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice. He shuffles closer, angling the head of his dick forward, lining it up so it slides between Steve’s thighs.
And when it does, they both moan loudly at the same time.
Eddie takes a few deep breaths then reaches for Steve’s cock. The inside of Steve’s thighs is so warm and soft and he knows he’s not gonna last long, but he’ll make sure to make Steve come.
He makes sure his grip is tighter this time, his movements faster. He times them with his own thrusts, his cock sliding wetly in and out Steve’s meaty thighs.
“You feel fucking perfect, Steve,” Eddie groans, pressing his face into Steve’s shoulder blade. The praise makes Steve whimper, his cock pulsing in Eddie’s hand. “You gonna come, sweetheart?”
Breathing coming faster, Steve manages, “Yeah– yeah. So fuckin’ close.”
“Me too, baby,” he admits. It doesn’t surprise him, he’s currently experiencing the hottest moment of his entire existence.
The closer he gets, the more his movements turn clumsier, more desperate– desperate to come, to make Steve come.
It’s when Eddie gives Steve’s shoulder a playful little bite at the same time that he twists his hand on the upstroke that Steve’s back arches and he moans loud and shaky as his cock pulses hotly into his hand.
Steve’s noises as he comes and the way his thighs tighten around Eddie’s cock are enough to bring him over the edge after only a few more thrusts and he paints Steve’s legs with cum.
They lay like that for a few seconds, catching their breath. Eddie starts to drift off, feeling tired and floaty.
“So you think you can fall asleep now?” He asks, breaking the silence.
Steve lets out a soft little giggle. “Yeah, absolutely.”
Eddie grins triumphantly. “Happy to be of service, Your Majesty,” he says with a twist of his cum-covered hand.
Steve’s nose wrinkles as his eyes land on it, but there’s a trace of fond amusement in the look he throws at Eddie over his shoulder. He grabs a handful of tissues from his nightstand and uses them to clean Eddie’s hand and himself before they both shove their boxers back on and get back under the covers.
Eddie rolls to his side. “Before you fall asleep and because I know it’ll keep me up if I don’t ask– was that like, just a hookup or do you like, like me?” He grimaces, burying his face into a pillow. “God, I sound like a twelve year old.”
Steve laughs, but not unkindly. “I like you, Eddie,” he says, and when Eddie lifts his head to look at him, Steve leans in and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Now let’s sleep and we’ll talk more tomorrow.”
Smiling, Eddie nods. That’s fine by him.
Steve turns around, facing away again and Eddie wraps his arm around him, burrowing his face into the back of his neck.
They’re both asleep in a matter of seconds.
#steddie#steddie fic#steddiebingo2025#steddiebingo12daysofchristmas#stranger things#stranger things fic#eddie munson#steve harrington#monse writes#plaid divider for steve's plaid sheets that the boys are messing up in this fic
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one night, two Pines ⋆˚࿔
tags: nsfw, Stan x fem!reader x Ford, threesome, praise kink, dirty talk, reader deserves a medal for this, rough sex, oral sex, p in v, fingering, pet names
tagging: @cailleachcola <33
a/n: i cant help it i love making Ford jealous even tho he wouldn’t show it so obvious like Stan for example ?? it’s my headcanon idk
for those who wanted second part and love jealous!Ford - click here
The Mystery Shack groans under the weight of another snowfall.
You glance toward the window, its edges crusted with frost, the outside world disappearing into an eerie haze of blue-gray dusk. Shadows stretch long and lazy across the wooden floor, falling on cluttered bookshelves lined with things Ford insists are cursed, but Stan swears they’re just old junk.
The coldness settles into your bones, making your fingertips ache and even the thickest socks don’t seem to help. The mystery Shack is equipped for this kind of weather. . . well, supposedly, but Stan always mutters about “old buildings” and “better insulation next year”. You’d laugh if your teeth weren’t busy chattering.
It got all got worse when the lights blinked once, then died completely. And now you're sitting in the darkness.
“Goddammit!” Stan’s voice barks through the room and it makes you jump from how loud it is. You barely make out his silhouette in the darkness.
Ford is pacing, muttering about fuses and the electrical grid. Stan, meanwhile, is busy cursing up a storm, flashlight gripped tight as he rifles through an ancient toolkit he probably hasn’t touched since 80s.
“Perfect fucking timing,” Stan growls, tossing a wrench over his shoulder. It clatters against the floor. “lights go out the one time we actually need ‘em. Figures.”
Ford, ever the optimist or maybe just too stubborn to agree with his brother, snaps back, “Well, if someone hadn’t overloaded the system with those ridiculous inflatable decorations outside—”
“You wanna run that by me again, sixer?” Stan turns, pointing flashlight to land directly on Ford’s chest. “i’ll have you know those ‘ridiculous decorations’ are what keep this place lookin’ festive, unlike your dusty ass journals stacked all over the damn place.”
You sit back, pulling old, oversized sweater tighter around yourself as you smile. They’re always like this. You can’t help it, the giggle slips out before you can stop yourself. Both of them turn to you.
“What’s so funny, kid?” Stan asks you.
“You two,” you reply, wiping the mirth from your lips with the back of your hand. “you argue like you’re in some bad sitcom.”
But it’s still dark, so dark you can barely make out their faces anymore, just shadows moving around the room and your fingers are already numb because it’s freezing, the temperature drops fast without the heater running. You exhale through your nose and hug yourself tighter, but it’s not helping much, honestly. The cold feels sharper, biting through your sweater and you decide you’ve had enough of waiting for them to figure it out.
“Okay,” you say, pushing up from the couch and ignoring the way their heads both snap toward you again, twin pairs of eyes watching your movements. “i’m getting candles.”
“Candles?” Stan repeats, sounding so bewildered.
“Yep, candles. You know, those things that make light and heat?”
Ford hums softly and smiles at your suggestion. “That’s actually a good idea,” he says and you think you hear Stan mumbling something like “of course he’d say that”, but you’re already moving toward the kitchen.
The candles are old, probably from some forgotten stash Mabel left behind last Christmas, but they’re pretty, short and fat with uneven edges, dusted with glitter and wrapped in little bows. And you carry them back to the living room with an armful of mismatched holders. You light them one by one and they glow softly, beautifully, their tiny flames flickering against the walls and filling the room with the faint scent of cinnamon, as room turns warm and so, so comforting. However, while you’re busy lighting the candles, you again hear two men arguing.
“I'm just saying,” Stanley huffs. “if you’re so damn smart, you could’ve fixed it yourself.”
Stanford pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing “And if you’d actually listen—”
“So, if you two are done arguing. . .” your voice interrupts their squabble. “maybe we should focus on keeping warm instead of trying to win whatever petty contest this is?”
Ford looks sheepish, running a hand through his hair, giving you an awkward smile while Stan grumbles “not petty, just proving a point”.
“But yeah, okay,” Stan waves a hand, brushing off your concern. “got plenty of blankets upstairs, i’ll grab a few.”
“And what, huddle together like we’re on some survival show?” Ford quirks a brow sceptically.
Stan’s reply is immediate. “Unless you’ve got a better idea, genius.”
Ford pauses, he doesn’t seem to have an answer. His gaze falls on you instead as he takes in your curled-up figure in the candlelight.
“Blankets it is, then,” he murmurs finally and Stan smirks a victorious “damn right.”
A few moments later, you’re all sitting closer than you probably should with the scratchy warmth of mismatched blankets draped across the three of you. Stan takes up the space of two people, leaning back with a wide grin, absolutely proud of himself and the way things goes now. Ford is stiff beside you, trying his best not to make contact to not make you uncomfortable, but the limited space forces his arm against yours.
It’s awkward, kind of, the silence. The proximity because you’re hyper-aware of every breath, every move, every accidental brush of skin. The candlelight dances across their faces, painting them in shades of gold and orange and you catch Stan watching you out of the corner of his eye, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Cozy enough for ya, sweetheart?”
Ford clears his throat, visibly bristling at the nickname. “I think she’d be cosier if someone didn’t take up half the blanket, Stanley.”
“Oh, cry me a river. Besides, she looks plenty warm to me. Ain’t that right, doll?”
And damn it, you do feel warm now, but not because of the blankets or the candles.
You sigh and swallow nervously, nodding and preparing for any outcome of the situation, but still, you move slightly, leaning into Ford just to see what happens, just to fucking see. At that, his breath hitches as his eyes widen, Stan catches it immediately.
“Huh,” Stan drawls, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “looks like sixer’s finally found his voice.”
Damn, it’s insane how quickly the room heats, despite the little useless candles you brought. Ford, for all his intelligence, looks at you, frozen in place, every muscle taut as though he’s weighing a hundred different outcomes. Meanwhile you feel the other twin already leaning in, closer and closer because damn, he’s been waiting for this moment for far too long.
“You cold, sweetheart?” Stan’s eyes dart briefly to where Ford’s arm presses against yours. “or maybe you just need a little. . . extra heat?”
Ford tenses beside you. “Stanley,” he fights the urge not to roll his eyes.
“Oh, c’mon, poindexter, you’re tellin’ me you haven’t thought about it? Not once? She’s sittin’ right here, for fuck’s sake.”
You bite your lip nervously, caught between them, their weight, their heat, the very presence of them pressing into you from both sides. Your body betrays you, leaning into Ford’s shoulder again, just to test the waters or maybe because you’re tired of pretending that you don’t notice the way his eyes darken when they meet yours.
Ford’s hand brushes yours, hesitant. Too careful. His fingers curl slightly, catching yours in a loose hold and you already think he’s going to pull away again, but no. His grip tightens and little smile appears on your cold lips.
“It’s, uh, it’s—” Ford begins, stuttering, but the words die on his tongue when your free hand reaches up to touch his face, grazing the edge of his jaw with your thumb. Oh, he’s warmer than you expected, softer, too and then he leans into your touch, what tells you everything you need to know about how much he’s been holding back.
“Don’t be a coward, sixer.”
Ford’s head immediately snaps toward his brother, shouting him a glare, but then your fingers trail lower, brushing along the collar of his sweater and he stops, softens. You don’t miss the way his chest rises and falls too.
You tilt your head, asking quietly in soft voice. “What are you so afraid of, Ford?”
It’s Stan who answers, leaning in close enough that you feel his breath on your neck. “He’s afraid you’ll like me better,” his hand finds your thigh beneath the blanket, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp softly right into Ford’s face. “ain’t that right, genius?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then prove it,” Stanley’s hand slides higher as he touches the bare skin beneath your clothes and you shiver, definitely not from the cold this time. Meanwhile Ford’s grip on your hand tightens as he watches Stan’s movements.
“She’s yours too, isn’t she? Or are you just gonna let me—”
Whatever Stan’s about to say dies in his throat because Ford moves faster than you’ve ever seen, his free hand grabbing Stan’s wrist and pulling it away from your thigh.
“Enough,” Ford commands, his hand slides to your cheek, tilting your face toward his and surprisingly for three of you, his lips are on yours. But you don’t even get time to enjoy the kiss.
“So she tastes as good as you imagined, Ford?”
Ford pulls back to glare at his brother, but his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, dragging it down slightly and when good answer appears in his smart head, he smiles.
“Better,” his eyes stay locked on yours, searching, needing.
Stan watches this for a moment, his grin softening, turning less cocky, since when his brother got so romantic? “Well, great,” he leans back in, his hand returning to your thigh, caressing your skin. Ford finally pulls away, unable to take his eyes off your pretty lips now. Before you can say something, you feel Stan's mouth on your neck, so warm as he nibbles on your skin while Ford’s hands slide lower, pulling you closer.
And you’re not cold anymore. Not even a little.
Your breath tangles in your throat when Stan squeezes your thigh while Ford kisses you again. It’s everything you thought it’d be and nothing you could’ve prepared for, a tension that’s been threading through the air for weeks, months and now it’s finally snapping. You think you might drown in the intensity of it, feeling Stan’s hand dragging higher, his fingers teasing the edge of your panties as his teeth graze the shell of your ear.
“You’ve been playin’ coy for weeks, sweetheart,” you hear Stan muttering behind you, his other arm loops around your middle, pulling you back against the solid weight of him and your head falls against his chest. “makin’ us work for it, huh? You got no idea what that’s been doin’ to us.” his mouth is rough on your neck, trying to mark every inch of you and when he nips at your pulse, you can’t stop the sound that escapes you, it’s half a gasp, half a moan and you feel Ford’s hand twitching against your hip.
“You sound so fuckin’ pretty like that,” Stan’s hands are big and rough like the rest of him, so when he slides them under the blanket, slipping between your legs, you gasp louder.
The heat in the room doesn’t come from the candles or blanket anymore, it’s from their bodies pressing closer, crowding you against the sofa’s cushions. Ford is still in front of you, his eyes locked onto yours as if he’s trying to solve the most complicated equation of his life, but his trembling hands betray him, desperate to touch you. Stan’s behind you, his chest solid against your back, arms bracketing you in like a warm cage, and when his lips find the shell of your ear, you feel his grin.
“Tell him, sweetheart, tell sixer what you want.”
You don’t answer right away, you look at Ford, noticing his pupils blown wide and his breath uneven. He’s waiting, waiting for permission, waiting for you to say the words he clearly doesn’t have the courage to ask for himself.
Stan’s hand is skimming along your stomach, fingers curling over the hem of your sweater. “Or maybe you don’t want him to touch you,” he adds, teasing. “is that it? you’d rather just let me have all the fun?”
You shake your head, making the most needy face ever, giving Ford puppy eyes. “no. . . no, I want him to.”
“Hear that, Ford? our pretty little thing is giving you the green light.” Ford is still silent, his eyes are glued to where Stan’s fingers have disappeared beneath the hem of your sweater.
You shift slightly, arching your back as Stan’s hand slides higher, dragging the fabric of your sweater with it, inch by slow excruciating inch. The air feels cooler against your skin now. Ford’s hand freezing just short of touching your bare waist.
“Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” Stan purrs, his hand finally stopping just beneath your chest. He pauses, though, his thumb stroking a line along your chest as he waits.
You realise what Stan hints at, your eyes meet Ford’s gaze again and you give him a little coquettish smile. “Do you want to see?”
Not waiting for his brother’s slow and awkward response, Stan’s fingers curl under the fabric of your sweater, lifting it higher, exposing your skin painfully slow until the candlelight catches the soft curve of your beautiful breasts. The room is dim, the fire casting flickering shadows across the walls and you swear you can feel Ford’s gaze burning into you, hotter than the flames.
“Fuck, would you look at her. . .”
You should feel exposed, vulnerable, but hungry gaze of two men make your head spin.
“Touch her, dumbass,” Stan prompts as he tilts your chin back against his shoulder. “don’t just sit there looking, she’s right here, beggin’ for it.”
Stanford hesitates, the effort of restraint is physically painful for him. But then you breath out needy “yes, please” and his hand finally moves, he trails his fingers to cup your breast, brushing his thumb over your nipple in a touch that’s far too gentle for how much you’ve been aching for this.
His breathing quickens, blood rushing to his lower body and you watch his throat bob as he swallows nervously, his gaze fixed on the soft peaks of your breasts, bare now in the cold air. Your pretty nipples pebble, whether from the chill or their eyes drinking you in. His touch feels so warm and when his fingers catch on the sensitive peaks, you sigh, your hips jerking slightly against Stan’s thighs.
Stan chuckles, letting his hand go lower your stomach now. “there you go, see? not so hard, is it?”
Ford doesn’t answer, too focused on studying your beautiful face every time he tweaks or rolls the delicate skin beneath his six fingers. You whimper softly and the sound seems to spur him on, his movements becoming firmer, more confident, and oh god, you’re melting between them.
“You’re just so beautiful,” Ford glances at you, his eyes searching yours to make sure you believe him. “do you know that?”
You don’t get the chance to answer because Stan chooses that moment to push his hand lower, slipping his fingers beneath the fabric of your panties and brushing between your wet folds. You let out a gasp, reaching to grip his arms, but Stan just laughs.
“Looks at that, she’s dripping, all for us. ain’t that right, sweetheart?” his fingers circle slowly, teasingly and you let out a choked moan, your hips bucking against his hand.
Ford’s gaze drops as he takes in the way Stan’s hand moves, your body responds to every touch as you move your hips to chase the pleasure. “Stan, don’t—”
“Don’t what?” his twin interrupts, grinning. “don’t touch her? don’t make her feel good? or is it that you don’t wanna watch?” he presses his fingers on your needy clit. “because if that’s the case, you might wanna look away now, sixer.”
Oh, you’re trembling, your whole body is shaking apart under the weight of their hands and their voices. Stan’s thick fingers already teasing your little hole, penetrating just a little, but enough to make you moan, the obscene wet sounds filling the room now, slickness coating his fingertips. It’s shameless, loud and you should feel embarrassed for being this fucking wet, mortified even, but all you can focus on is Ford watching.
He’s staring at where Stan’s hand disappears between your legs, his own six fingers twitching, can’t decide where to go next.
“Go ahead.” Stan slides his fingers deeper into your pussy, earning another helpless moan from your lips. “she’s fucking soaked for you.” he turns his head, brushing his lips against your ear, and murmurs, “tell him, baby, tell him you want it.”
Your lips part, but no words come out at first, your brain too fogged up with heat and touch while Stan scissors his fingers inside you, spreading your wet folds, exposing your needy pussy to Ford. When Stan’s thick finger brushes against that tender sweet spot your vision goes white and you finally manage to whine. “Ford, Ford! please,” you reach your hand out blindly to grab his wrist, guiding him to you. “please, touch me.”
Ford settles his hands on your thighs and you immediately notice how his touch is so different from Stan’s, soft, tentative, awkward, trembling, scared to move too fast, but then you make this soft, pleading noise and it flips a switch in him. His hands slide up and he finally pushes Stan’s hand away, sliding his fingers into your dripping cunt with an eagerness that makes your head spin.
“Holy moses,” Ford groans as he presses his fingers deeper. “You’re— you’re so warm, so wet.” he moves slowly, exploring, testing and it’s clumsy, because you can feel how hard he’s trying to do it right.
“Woah, didn’t know you had it in you.” Stan’s hands move up your stomach until they find your breasts again, cupping them with a roughness that makes you arch into him. “don’t forget about these, though. They’re just as perfect as everything else.”
You moan when Stan’s thumbs circle your sensitive hard nipples, squeezing a little bit, meanwhile Ford’s fingers find a rhythm inside you that has your hips rolling forward, chasing the friction. “Oh, Stan, Ford,” you breathe, your head falling back against Stan’s shoulder, “pleasee. . .”
“Please, what? please touch you more? please fuck you right here in front of sixer? or is it sixer you want to—”
“Stanley, don’t, ugh, don’t talk like that!” Ford glares at his brother, but his long fingers never stop thrusting and moving, curling and twisting inside you, making you cry out while he scolds Stan for being “too dirty”.
Your thighs tighten around Ford’s wrist and you can’t stop the sound you make, you couldn’t even if you tried. You sound so high and broken, so loud, a trembling little wail that falls into the air and hangs there, suspended between the flickering candlelight and sound of Stan’s chuckle.
“That’s it, doll. Go on, let him see it, let that nerd see how pretty you are when you cum. Isn’t that right, Ford? Isn’t she the prettiest damn thing you’ve ever seen?”
And damn it, Stan can talk so well that his voice and words alone are enough to get you close. You whine again, taking everything they both give you like the goddamn obedient thing you are. Fuck, you're so ready to let Stan or Ford finally fuck you, feel that cock stretch you open, but you are so horny that even being stuffed full, you'll still be begging for more. And all you can do for now is cumming on Ford's fingers before you'll get the real thing.
Ford doesn’t answer, not in words, at least. He drops his gaze back to where his fingers disappear into you, his movements growing faster, more confident as he rubs your sensitive bundle of nerves that has you keening.
“Yes, fuck, yes, just like that,” you whine, close. “please, i’m— gonna cum!”
“Good girl.” you’re so lost in pleasure you can’t recognise who even says that. Ford’s fingers press deeper, until he finds that spot again, that perfect, maddening spot as his thumb circles your little clit. “just let go, sweetheart, i’ve got you. We’ve got you.”
Just like that, your hips jerk as the coil inside you tightens to the point of snapping. You bury your face in the crook of Stan’s neck, your soft cries muffled against his hot skin as you cum, shuddering in release while Ford’s fingers still working you through every last wave of it.
“Fucking hell,” Stan mutters behind you. “all fucked out and dripping down your hand, bet you’ve never seen anything so damn beautiful, huh?”
Ford just stares at your pretty face and the mess your pussy made, his fingers still buried deep inside you as he glances down at his own hand, glistening in the low candlelight. “Yes, shes just incredible. I don’t think i’ve ever—” but his response is too slow.
“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” Stan shuts his brother up, his tone edging on impatient as his hands move down, grabbing your thighs and pulling you back against him. “but i’m fucking done waiting.”
You whimper softly when Stan pulls you away from Ford, manhandling you like you’re nothing more than a toy in his grip. “Stan—” you start, but your words are cut off when he spins you around and lays you back against the couch, towering over you.
“It’s okay, baby.” his hands are already at his belt, yanking it loose. “you’re mine now.”
Ford looks up, finally waking up from his fantasies, still kneeling by the couch, his hand hovering like he doesn’t know what to do with it anymore. “Wait, what? But we—”
“Tsk, you’ve had your turn, sixer.” Stan glances at him with a smirk, pushing your legs apart with his hand. “but this pussy is mine.”
Then he tears open the foil packet with his teeth and you swear you never saw anything this sexy. Stan’s hands working fast and you can’t help the soft, needy sound that escapes you as you watch him rolling the condom on. You just wish to be filled now. “Been waiting too long for this,” Stan positions himself at your wet entrance, the head of his cock rubbing through your sensitive folds, coating his length in your wetness.
Fuck, the stretch burns, but it’s good, so good and that guttural groan Stan lets out as he sinks into your pussy deeper fills your stomach with butterflies.
“Fuuuuck,” he hisses as he bottoms out, feeling your soft walls around his cock. “tight little cunt’s squeezin’ me like a fuckin’ vice. How the hell are you this perfect?”
“Stanley!” your voice sounds so breathy, your hands reaching for him, clutching at his shoulders as your thighs tremble on either side of him.
Ford’s breath catches he watches the way you arch beneath his brother, the way your gorgeous body trembles with every thrust, every touch. His hand moves unconsciously toward the bulge straining against his trousers.
“Shh, sweetie,” Stan coos and presses forward, sinking into your cunt slowly, until he’s buried to the hilt. “fuck, you’re perfect.”
Stanford watches, wrapping his hand around his own cock, stroking himself in slow pulls as he takes in the sight of you, so flushed, trembling, undone as you let his brother fuck you. He can't really believe that this is happening right in front of his eyes, he didn't even have time to protest, his eyes flicker between your face and where Stan’s hips meet yours, his jaw clenching as he watches the way your little pussy stretch around him, taking him in so easily, so beautifully.
“You’re missing out, Ford,” Stan pulls his hips back before thrusting forward again slowly, his cock penetrates you deeper. “she’s so fucking tight, so warm, guess you’re wishing you’d been a little greedier, huh?”
Your lashes flutter, damp with tears you didn’t realise had spilled, your lips parted, all swollen, trembling and your voice is slurred now, pouring out in little whimpers that are hardly words at all, just fragments of syllables that tumble over each other.
“S-Stan, oh! oh god, it’s s-so big,” your nails digging into the couch as your hips stutter against his, helpless to the rhythm he sets.
“Just like that, honey.” Stan growls, gripping you hard to hold you still. “you’re taking it, sweetheart, all of it. Fuck, being such a good girl for me.”
“Good girl,” you echo back in the sweetest, dreamiest tone, your words spilling out soft as silk, trembling with every breath you take. Your head falls back against the cushions, strands of hair clinging to your hot flushed cheeks and you can barely manage another gasp before Stan presses his cock into your pussy again, harder this time. “m’good, right? f-fuck, fuck!” the question slips out, a broken little thing, barely there as your fingers claw helplessly at the cushions. You’re drowning, drunk on the way his dick drags against every sweet sensitive spot inside you, pushing you further and further into some heavenly haze.
Ford’s hand moves in slow strokes over his hard cock, every now and then stopping to squeeze at the base, his knuckles pale with the effort of holding himself back. He watches you, only you, his sacred vision meant to be cherished, wishing it was him filling you up instead.
His gaze devours every delicate part of you: how your lips tremble as you moan Stan’s name, the soft arch of your spine when his brother thrusts deeper, the way your body, so soft, so sweet, melts against every rough movement. Ford’s chest rises and falls as he breathes shallowly and uneven, his jaw tight.
“She’s stunning, isn’t she?” you hear Stan’s proud voice, every thrust making you cry out, your body jolting forward only to be pulled back by the iron grip he has on your waist. “look at her, sixer. Look at this perfect little pussy takin’ me so fuckin’ well. But eh, what a shame you’re not brave enough to handle her like this, are you?”
Ford’s lips press into a thin line, he tries to ignore his brother’s mockery, tries to avoid conflict, narrowing his eyes, but his cock twitches in his hand at the sound of your soft begging voice. “Foord,” you whimper, reaching for him with trembling fingers.
“Go on. Let him see how much you love it. Let him hear how good this thick fuckin’ cock feels inside you.”
“You’re insufferable,” Ford finally snaps in serious voice. His hand tightens on his cock as he uses his thumb to smear the slick of precum over the swollen tip while he kneels beside you. “you think brute force is all it takes to please her? Amateur.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Stan spits back, though there’s a slight falter in his thrusts, more sensual and slow, bringing you more pleasure, making you whine. Your pussy clenches around him and the sound of your soft cries only makes him groan.
“Stan, oh fuck!”
“There you go, doll.” his grin widens as he watches you come undone beneath him. “You don’t even know how pretty you look right now, do you? All spread out for me, crying on my cock.”
“Yes, yes! it’s, oh god, it’s too good—”
“Oh, you’re just drunk on it, aren’t you?” he teases, his hips snapping forward again, drawing another broken cry from your lips. “Go on, sweetie, tell me how good it feels, tell me how much you love it.”
Your words are a jumbled mess, tumbling out in a rush of breathless babble: “so good, so big, can’t! oh, can’t think, Stan, i— i love it, i love you so much!”
“Take it, baby. Keep talking, let me hear that pretty voice.”
“S’too much, too deep,” your head is shaking, your cheeks flushed, your eyes glassy as you stare up at him, your lips trembling with every word. “c-can feel deep, so deep, feels so good. . . oh, please, please don’t stop—”
“Damn it, damn it,” Ford mutters from where he’s still kneeling by the couch, his eyes are locked on the spot where Stan’s hips meet yours, watching the way you take him, the way you stretch around him, the wet, messy sounds filling the room. “you’re going to fucking kill her.”
“Nah, she’s tougher than she looks, aren’t you, pretty?” Stan glances down at you, brushing his thumb over your swollen lower lip, then wiping your sweet tears off your cute face. “c’mon, sweetheart, show sixer how strong you are. Tell him you can take it.”
“C-Can take it,” you echo again as your lashes flutter. “wan’ more, need more, please, don’t stop, don’t ever stop—”
Stan laughs at how desperate you sound, so dumb and drunk on his cock sliding in and out of you, his hand moves down between your thighs, finding your swollen clit as he starts toying with it, and the sound you make is pure music, a beautiful cry that makes his cock twitch inside you.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking, hhnngh, perfect, could fuck you forever. Might just do it. . . keep you here, all pretty and fucked out and crying for me.” his thrusts grow harsher, dragging against your cervix in a way that has your toes curling. It’s too much, too good and the only sound you can make is a sweet, broken hum, your lips parted as drool threatens to escape.
And through it all, Ford is still there, his gaze devouring you. His six-fingered hand, so deft and steady in every other setting, now trembles as it pumps his leaking cock, betraying the tension rippling through him. His flushed dick twitches in his hand, as he tries to match the pace of Stan’s thrusts.
“Hah, you really wanna join in that bad? Go ahead, help yourself. I’m sure our doll here wouldn’t mind, right?”
Your head turns weakly, tears slipping down your cheeks as you nod, your lips quivering with your next plea. “Ford, please, please, wan’ you too. . . need you, need both of you. Can take it, promise, promise i can.” your brain turn to mush.
He exhales sharply through his nose, his broad shoulders heaving as he tries to control himself, tries to fight the pull of your voice, soft and begging and oh so sweet. But that bastard thrusts harder into you, making you forget about everything at once, especially about that worried look on Ford’s face. Stan fucks you even faster and your lips part. “Stan, Ford, wanna be good, wanna be so good for you, im. . . i’m your good girl, yes? wanna be good, please, let me—”
Stan uses his thumb to touch your flushed, tear-streaked cheek. “Oh, you’re more than good, sweetheart. You’re fucking perfect, our perfect little doll, huh?”
Ford’s brows furrow as he leans closer. “she’s. . . she’s really out of it. Stan, are you sure—”
“Cmon, sixer, you’re tellin’ me you wouldn’t do the same if you were in my shoes? she’s so fuckin wet, bet you’re wishin’ you’d been the one to break her in, or am I wrong?”
You can’t even think anymore, not a coherent thought left in that pretty, spinning head of yours. You sob out his name again, your hips bucking up against his, your head tilting back as the pleasure builds, until it’s too much while you moan “faster” and “please” as you fall apart all over again, babbling incoherent nonsense. But what comes out of your mouth next is definitely something Ford didn't expect.
“Ford, you’re s’good, so handsome. . . not fair, hnngh, you’re both so pretty. . . you, with all your. . . your smartness an’-an’—” your brows knit as you lose the thread of your sentence, but the pout that takes over your mouth is enough to make Ford combust on the spot.
Stan chuckles at your words, moving his fingers in slow, unrelenting circles that have you squirming. “Don’t try to flatter him too much, pretty. His ego’s big enough as it is.”
“She’s completely gone, Stan, is she even coherent anymore?”
Stan snorts, leaning back to admire the way you look beneath him, your tear-streaked cheeks, your glossy eyes and parted lips with drops of saliva running down your chin. “Oh, coherent enough,” he uses his hand to cup your jaw and tilt your pretty face to his brother. “tell that nerd how good you’re doing.”
“S-So good,” you sob. “so good, m’your good girl, promise, jus’ need you both so bad, so bad it hurts—”
“She’s. . . she’s not making any sense. She’s—”
“She’s good,” Stan cuts him off, sliding his hand down to rest against your lower belly, pressing lightly to feel the way his cock moves inside you.
“M’fine, m’really good, s’good. . . love you, Stan, love Ford, too! wanna—” your words break off into breathy giggle as you reach for Ford with trembling hands. “wanna kiss you, Ford, please, please, lemme—”
And just like that, Ford’s resolve shatters like glass. “Damn it,” he kisses you. It’s hesitant at first, his lips brushing yours so lightly it feels like a dream, but the soft, desperate moan that spills from your mouth pulls him in deeper.
“S’pretty,” you murmur against his mouth dreamily, your fingers curling around the collar of his sweater. “Ford, you’re so pretty, so smart, so perfect. . . wanna make you feel good, please, can i? please?”
“She’s gonna eat you alive, sixer,” Stan grins, slipping his large hand beneath your sweater to cup one of your breasts, brushing his thumb over the stiffened peak. “better give her what she wants before she drives herself crazy.”
“Y-You can take me too, can’t you?” Ford’s voice sounds like he’s barely keeping himself together.
“She’s made for it,” his twin answers for you, slowing his rough thrusts to a roll of his hips that grinds into just the right spot. “aren’t you, sweetheart? made to take every fuckin’ thing we give you. Tell him. Tell sixer how bad you want your pretty mouth full.”
“Please, wanna make you both feel so good, please, Ford, wan’ your cock, just wanna taste you— ah!” your moans are interrupted when Stan pushes roughly into your warmth again.
So Ford’s restraint doesn’t last. He lets out a broken groan, cradling your jaw with one hand while the other ghosts over your lips. “Open for me, darling,” you obey without hesitation, your tongue peeking out as he slips two long fingers into your mouth. The warmth of you makes his cock twitch again, his face flushed and torn with guilt. “Good girl,” he breathes, brushing his thumb against your cheek as you suck, your pretty lips glistening with spit.
“Fuckin’ adorable,” Stan slams his cock into you hard enough to make the couch creak. “think she loves you talkin’ to her like that, sixer. Makes her even wetter, fuck.”
“Can you take me here, darling? You're already so full, but i know you can take more. You’re extraordinary, after all.” you babble nonsense in response around Ford’s fingers, tears and spit mingling on your face as your gaze locks onto his. When his fingers leave your mouth, a string of saliva connects them to your lips, and Ford swallows thickly before leaning forward.
“Hear that, baby? you’re so goddamn perfect, even sixer here can’t help himself. Go on, open that pretty mouth for him.”
You don’t know if it’s that crazy desperation you have for both twins or Stan’s tone or that needy look on Ford’s face, but your lips part without hesitation again, and Ford exhales, his cock presses against your tongue, the weight of him dizzying as you wrap your lips around him, taking him as deep as you can. He whimpers and that noise makes your pussy throb once again around Stan’s length.
Six-fingered hand moves to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, not forcing, just guiding, as he starts to move, slow thrusts that press against the back of your throat. “Perfect, love, you’re. . . a-ah, perfect. Look at you, taking both of us like this. . . such a good little thing for us. . .”
You’re too far gone to answer, too consumed by the overwhelming fullness, Stanley is relentless, thrusting into your pussy, dragging against your cervix, making you sob around Ford’s length. It’s filthy, the wet sounds of your mouth and cunt harmonizing in this dirty symphony, echoing off the walls.
“Look at her,” Stan growls, gripping your hips to keep you in place as he grinds deeper. “bet you’re jealous as hell, huh? wishing it was you stretching her out like this?”
Ford’s response is a fractured groan as your throat tightens around him. “Don’t— don’t say shit like that, Stan.” even though Ford seems to be more gentle than his brother, his hold on you is firm as he guides your pretty swollen lips down and you let him. You let them, because that’s all you’ve ever wanted, to be theirs, to be good for them, to be their fleshlight they can use whenever they want.
Your body trembling from the overwhelming fullness, Stan splitting you open below while Ford’s cock steals the breath from your lungs. Tears streak your cheeks, glittering like gemstones in the candlelight, and Stan leans forward, his rough thumb smearing them away. “cryin’ so pretty for us, baby.”
Your warm mouth stretches as you take Ford in and he moans, moans and moans again, low-key turning into same mess as you when your tongue curls and presses against him. He accidentally thrusts too deep, making you gag lightly, tears spilling anew, but you keep going, keep sucking him off like the good girl you are. Because you’re their good girl, their sweet, obedient little thing who gives and gives until there’s nothing left. You hum around his length and the vibration making his knees buckle.
“Mmmph,” you manage, pulling back briefly to gasp for air before diving back down on Ford’s cock, hollowing your cheeks, your throat tightening as you try to take him deeper. “s’good, so full, love you both, love being yours. . . love being your good girl. . .”
Ford’s brows knit, his stormy eyes softening as he cups your cheek with one hand. “Careful, darling,” he caresses your spit-slicked lips with his thumb. “don’t push yourself too hard.” but his body betrays him, his cock twitching against your tongue, desperate for more of your warmth, your wetness, your everything.
“Careful? Sixer, you really think she’s not begging for more?”
You are. God, you are. Your body arches as Stan’s thick cock drags against that devastating spot inside you, your mind blanking with every sharp snap of his hips. “Please,” you gasp, pulling off Ford with a wet pop. “More, need more, please, Ford, want you both.”
Stan chuckles darkly, gripping your waist as he ruts into you, watching your beautiful nipples in the candlelight while he ruins your little pussy with every deep thrust, making you cry out around Ford’s cock. “Ugh, bet she’d beg to have us both at once if she could talk right now.”
“D-Dont—” Ford’s response falter as his head tilts back. “she’s, oh fuck, she’s doing enough.”
Your eyes flutter shut, your mind blank and when you pull back to breathe your voice is swallowed immediately when Ford presses his cock back into your mouth, your hands clinging to his thighs as your body shudders between them. Too rough.
Ford regrets his action immediately, his gaze softening as he watches you. “S-sorry, love, i didn’t m—“ he cant even finish his sentence as you take him deeper again. “Ahh, there. . . there's my good girl,” he strokes your cheek gently.
Stan’s growl sounds through the room as his grip tightens on your hips, burying himself deeper, his balls tighten as he pulses inside you. “fuck, angel, you take me so good, tight lil’ thing, this perfect pussy was made for me, wasn’t it? hell, im gonna cum. . .”
You’re trembling under him, eyes heavy-lidded and watery, your nails scraping helplessly against Ford’s thighs as your mouth hangs open, while he nudges his cock on your cheek now, rubbing it against your skin, giving his beautiful girl time to breathe and rest. But god, Stan’s cock makes you cry out so pretty it could’ve brought a man to his knees.
Ford’s gaze flicks to his brother, the irritation obvious in his eyes. “Stanley, she’s already so overstimulated. Can’t you slow down?”
“Slow down? Ford, look at her, she’s fuckin’ drunk on it.”
“Can’t you— damn, at least touch her properly?”
“What the fuck do you think i’m doing?” Stan drops his hand low, and when those thick fingers starts teasing that tender little pearl of yours, you cant stop the pitiful, muffled sob that leave your throat. “Happy now, professor? she’s got my cock buried in her and my fuckin’ fingers making her melt. Nothin’ to complain about.”
Ford falters, his brows furrowing as his eyes dart to yours, searching for any sign of discomfort on his beloved girl's face. Instead, he found you gazing up at him, adoring, your lips parting around his tip with a soft, wet sound. “I. . . still, Stanley, you could—”
“Don’t you ‘Stanley’ me. You’re not exactly mr. gentle here yourself, sixer. You practically fucked her throat.”
Ford flushes, holding your hair as his composure slips another notch. “I’m not, she’s just so—” he groans as you use opportunity and take his cock in your mouth again. “I just—! I don’t mean to—”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Stan’s rhythm falters when the tension in his body finally reaches its peak as his head drops back with a deep moan of your name. Fuck, the condom is the only thing stopping him from flooding you completely, but its hardly enough to dull the intense, claiming press of him inside you.
“Fuck— fuck, angel,” he pants. “gonna fill you up so bad if this wasn’t in the way— goddammit! wanna see it dripping out of you, doll.”
“S-Stan,” you whimper, trying to form a coherent thought. “so good, so good, i—”
Ford feels a mix of frustration and worry, watching the way his twin manhandles you. “Ugh, you’re going to break her at this rate. Do you even care that she’s—”
“Oh, shut the fuck up, sixer. Tell the man yourself, baby, you’re loving this, right?”
You manage a soft, breathless “yes, wan’ more, wan’ all of you—” before your words dissolve into a string of muffled moans and nonsensical sounds, your thoughts too hazy to form anything coherent because the way Stan fucks you feels unyielding.
Stan’s fingers flex against your clit one last time and then he’s gripping your hips like a man possessed, his teeth bared as his cock twitches one last time inside you, it pulses against the grip of your velvet walls. He holds you in place as he empties himself into the condom, muttering a string of incoherent curses. Your breath hitches, your body still oversensitive, needing and when his thumb circles your clit lazily, but deliberate, you shiver hard enough that you nearly collapse.
“Take it, baby,” Stanley tortures your sensitive pearl over and over, feeling your pussy flattering around him and he grins when you whimper. “such a mess, doll. S’pose we’ll have to fix that, huh? Fill you up proper next time. No damn rubber in the way.
Ford, meanwhile, is so ruined. His face is flushed and he’s pulling out of your mouth with a wet, sticky sound that sends a shiver down your spine. His cock twitches, shiny with your spit, he chokes out something that sounds suspiciously like a protest to his brother's words, but his voice falters when your hand wraps around the base of his cock, your tongue darting out to catch a bead of precum dripping from the flushed tip.
“I'm close, I'm so cl-close. . . Wait, wait, love, need tissues, dont want. . . don't want to make a mess.”
But you disagree. “Ford,” your gaze hazy but full of affection as you press your lips against his palm. “you don’t have to worry. I want to taste you. Please?”
Ford’s eyes going wide as his cock twitches in your grip. He looks at you like you’ve just said the most scandalous, sinful thing imaginable and you have.
“Go on, sixer, you heard the lady.”
Ford still has doubts, but he's not in a position to think and analyze for a long time. That's why when you taste the head of his cock, his resolve crumbles. You give his tip another gentle kiss, humming softly at the salty taste of him. Your hands cradle his hips as you move slowly, your tongue swirling around him, savoring every drop like it’s the sweetest treat.
He guides you back to him, his cock throbbing against your lips as you take him in, inch by inch. “Yeah, feels so good. . . ” his voice breaks, his fingers threading through your hair again.
You moan softly in response, your eyes closing as you focus on Ford, taking him deeper, letting him feel the full warmth of your mouth as your tongue presses against him. His hips jerk, setting the rhythm that lets him fuck your throat slowly, he mutters something that sounds like an apology, though it’s swallowed by a desperate groan.
“Darling, please, so good. . . You're so good for us.”
You can't help but get turned on by his voice again, even though you're not sure you can handle the second round right now, you still need to catch your breath.
Ford's gaze locks with yours and he nods as a warning that he’s close, watching your shiny lips, swollen around his length. The sound he makes sends a spark of heat straight to your core. Its messy, and noisy, and when Ford finally spills into your mouth with a sharp cry of your name, you swallow it down to the last drop, wishing he'd fill your pussy too, but it can wait. For now.
“Fuckin’ hell, you’re somethin’ else, doll.”
Ford pulls you into his arms the moment you release him, his hands cradling your face, checking if his precious girl he’s terrified to lose is okay. “Thank you, love, you were such a good girl for me.”
“For us, Sixer, for us.”
The room falls silent after the last of your trembling fades, and the three of you, sweaty and exhausted, lie on the couch.
Somewhere in the background, the storm outside rumbles one last time before finally giving way to quiet.
Then. . . click.
The lights flicker on, suddenly, obnoxiously bright, washing the room in unforgiving fluorescence. You squint, blinking against the glare as you lift your head from Stan’s chest, a groggy, borderline-irritated groan slipping from your lips.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” your voice sounds so weak from all the. . . well, everything.
Stan grunts, throwing an arm over his eyes as if to block out the light. “As i said, goddamn timing.”
Ford sits up a little, rubbing at his neck with a wince. His glasses are crooked on his face, and his hair is a mess, though not nearly as bad as Stan’s.
You can’t help it, you snort, slapping your hand against Stan’s big chest playfully. “You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”
“Yeah? Well, you don’t look much better, sweetheart,” Stan retorts with a tired smirk. “besides, i’m too old for this shit. Don’t expect me to move for at least an hour.”
“Make it two,” his twin adds, leaning back with a tired sigh. “i think i’ve pulled something.”
You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up on wobbly legs. “Oh, you two are pathetic.”
“Says the girl who can't even walk straight now.”
You stick your tongue out at Stan, though you know he can’t see it because poor man already closed his eyes.
“Whatever, i’m taking a shower, try not to die of old age while i’m gone.”
Ford smiles softly at your behaviour, but Stan just groans, waving a hand at you dismissively. “Have fun. Don’t expect me to move a fuckin’ inch.”
You roll your eyes again, muttering something about men as you disappear into the bathroom.
But what you don’t see and what Stan doesn’t see too is how Ford’s gaze lingers on you as you go.
The door clicks shut, and Stan sighs heavily, already half-asleep. “Wake me up in a week.”
Ford glances at him, smirking faintly. “Sure, Stanley. A week.”
The bathroom.
You’re standing under the spray of hot water, letting it wash away the stickiness and sweat, when the door creaks open behind you.
“Stan, i swear to god, if you’ve suddenly decided you can—” you start, turning to glance over your shoulder only to freeze when you see Ford stepping inside.
“Not Stan,” he answers as he locks the door behind him.
Your brows shoot up. “Ford? what are you—?”
“He’s out cold,” Ford says simply as he steps closer. “and besides,” his fingers brush over your hip, and you shiver from wild contrast of his cool touch against your heated skin. “i didn’t get nearly enough of you earlier.” he presses you back against the cool tile, cupping your face, tilting it to capture your lips in a kiss which now feels more possessive than gentle.
“Ford,” you whisper, half-scolding but mostly breathless. “he’ll—”
“He won’t,” he interrupts. “and even if he does. . . well, perhaps it’s time Stanley learned to share properly.”
Before you can respond, his hand is slipping between your thighs, using his fingers to part you.
“Now, let’s see if you can stay quiet, darling. Don’t want to wake him, do we?”
#gravity falls x reader#gravity falls#gravity falls x you#gravity falls smut#ford pines x reader#stan pines x reader#ford pines smut#stanford pines#stan pines smut#x reader#stanford pines x you#stanford pines x reader#stanley pines smut#stanley pines x you#stanley pines x reader#ford pines x you#ford pines#gravity falls fanfiction
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thinking about “who did this to you?” and frat!boy rafe 🤭 his girl is always at his frat house and one night at a party, he’s looking for her and can’t find her. He eventually finds her crying and maybe with light bruises on her wrists or something? protective frat!rafe 🥰
rafe cameron x fem!reader | hurt & comfort | (creepy guy, wrist grabbing, bruising, protective!rafe, mentions of anxiety, sort of shy!reader,)
︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶
The lights were giving you a headache. Topper thought it was funny to repetitively switch the main light on and off, to try and give the room a rave vibe. Most people inside were too fucked up to be annoyed by it, but you weren’t. You’d only had two vodka cranberries, and honestly all you wanted to do was crawl into Rafe’s bed and go to sleep.
During the majority of these parties you’d be glued to your boyfriend’s side, hanging off his arm like a trophy, but tonight was different. You were trying to branch out more, stop being so anxious at these things. Rafe loves a party, and being his girlfriend you should as well. So, for the last hour you’ve been roaming around; making minimal contact with him.
You left the main room with a huff, rubbing your temple as you walked out into the hall. There was no-one in sight, and you let out a sigh of relief that you had a moment alone. You sat down on the floor, leaning your head back against the wall. The door to the bathroom opened and a boy, one you hadn’t seen before, walked out.
“You alright?” He asked, looking down at you in amusement.
“I’m fine, just takin’ a break,” you explained. You didn’t want to speak to him, but it would be rude to send him away; especially with the mission you were on tonight.
“Mind if I join you?” He questioned. You didn’t even get to respond, he was already sitting down next to you. “I’m Parker, by the way.” You introduced yourself, shaking his outstretched hand. “Ah, you’re Cameron’s girl?”
“Yeah,” you smiled, just the mention of him had your mood lifting. Maybe you should just give up with the outgoing thing, maybe you should just go and find—
“You don’t seem like his type.” The statement caught you off guard, all thoughts leaving your head as you looked at him with furrowed brows.
“What does that mean?” You wondered, trying to sound calm.
He let out a hum, as if deep in thought, before shrugging his shoulders and giving you a smirk. “Rafe’s, like, into all this shit, y’know? Parties, drinking, drugs. You’re sat in the hallway alone.”
“Opposites attract,” you shrugged back, picking at the pink nail polish on your nails.
“That is the saying,” he laughed, running his fingers through his hair. “I just think maybe, a pretty girl like you, deserves someone that’s more like her. Someone that would sit with her in the hallway, for example.”
You thought he was degrading you, like the rest of Rafe’s fanboys usually did. But, you realised now that wasn’t the case. He was your fanboy. You let out an awkward chuckle, looking to the door that hadn’t opened since you stepped out. You prayed for someone, anyone, to need the bathroom.
“I’m gonna head back in—” you decided to screw the anxiety, and just do what was necessary.
“Why?” He interrupted. He didn’t sound quite so friendly anymore. “We’re hangin’ out, don’t go in yet.”
“I need to find Rafe.” You tried to stand, but his fingers gripped onto your wrist to stop you. You winced in pain, his hold only tightened. “Get off.”
“No—” your prayers were answered as the door opened, a drunken couple came stumbling through. The sudden interruption had him letting go of you, and you swiftly rushed away.
You ran upstairs, through the corridor of boy’s bedrooms, until you reached Rafe’s. With tears in your eyes, you pushed open the door and laid down in his bed.
It only took ten minutes for the door to open again, you flinched; thinking that maybe Parker had followed you up here, but you let out a shaky sigh of relief at the sight of Rafe.
“Hey, baby. There you are, been lookin’ all over— are you crying?” He interrupted himself, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed.
“No,” you blatantly lied through your tears, voice coming out muffled.
He wrapped his arms around you, wiping your tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Hey, what happened? It get a bit overwhelmin’? You could have told me, you know I’d much rather sit up here with you.”
“Not exactly…” you reached up to move your hair from your eye-line, you realised your mistake the moment that gentle look in his eyes dropped.
“What is that?” He grabbed your arm, not harshly but forcefully. Your wrist had turned a bright red colour, bruises would be forming soon enough.
“Nothing!” You squeaked out, trying to pull your arm away from him.
“Don’t bullshit me. That wasn’t there earlier. What happened?” He demanded to know. You knew he was serious, the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice.
You gave in, tears rolling down your cheeks as you explained to him what happened with the boy. He stroked over your wrist, a moment of silent going over the two of you before he leant forward and kissed your temple.
“Get changed, put on a movie. I’ll be back in a minute, okay?” He murmured softly.
“Where’re you going?” You asked nervously, you were pretty sure you already knew the answer.
“To sort out that fuckin’ kid. No one puts their hands on you, get it?” He stated, pecking your lips before getting off the bed.
You didn’t argue, there was no point. Rafe was too in love with you, if someone hurt you he’d do just about anything to get payback.
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AGAINST THE TIDE: PART NINE
paige x azzi
word count: 6.4k
A/N: Alright I’m feeling much better and I’m no longer losing my shit after CD said she wouldn’t call it an injury 🙂↕️. Here’s the next chapter! It’s a little rough at the beginning but just get through it trust me . Please leave live reacts if you can, I need a little extra motivation today 😭
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October 2022
For weeks after their argument, Paige kept her word. She stayed true to her role as Azzi’s best friend and was there anytime the younger girl needed her, it didn’t matter what she was doing, she was there. She did make Azzi stop coming with her to physical therapy though, and Nika had stepped in to take her place. Physical therapy always got a little too intimate when they’d ask whoever accompanied Paige to push on her knee and Paige knew that she and Azzi couldn’t handle that right now. They still spent time together–Paige helping Azzi in the gym here and there, texting during the day, hanging out sporadically, studying–but everything had changed. There were clear lines now. They didn’t flirt, they didn’t touch in ways that meant anything more than friendship. It was as though they were back to where they started, but it was painfully different.
Paige had started hanging out more with Ice, the freshman who quickly became a source of amusement for her. Ice's humor was dry and a little corny, and Paige found herself genuinely laughing more than she had since her and Azzi ended things. If that’s what you would call it. But even with Ice’s company, there were still moments when she couldn’t help but think about Azzi. It wasn’t that she didn’t love their friendship now, but it didn’t fill the large space Azzi once occupied when they were clearly more than friends.
Ice leaned back in her chair, her expression one of pure disbelief. “That’s bullshit. I refuse to believe there was a point when you and Azzi didn’t like each other.”
Paige chuckled, shaking her head. “I swear, we couldn’t stand each other. Every little thing she did annoyed me and she hated me honestly.”
Ice raised an eyebrow, smirking. “And now look at you, a full-blown simp. How the tables have turned.”
Paige rolled her eyes, though a grin tugged at her lips. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”
“So how’d you two even get past that?” Ice asked, leaning forward with genuine curiosity. “Like, how’d you go from ‘can’t stand each other’ to…” she gestured vaguely, “this?”
Paige’s laugh softened, and she shrugged. “The gym, mostly. We kinda connected over basketball first. That was the one thing we could agree on. At first, we only talked about basketball—nothing else. But once we built a decent foundation of not wanting to kill each other every two seconds, we started hanging out more. It just…happened from there.”
Ice nodded thoughtfully, then shrugged. “Why don’t you just do that again this time then?”
Paige gave her a look. “We don’t need to build a foundation, Ice. She’s still my best friend.”
“Righttt,” Ice said, dragging out the word with heavy sarcasm. “Your best friend that you’re in love with, and you haven’t seen in like five days.”
Paige rolled her eyes again, though a faint blush crept up her cheeks. “We text.”
Ice snorted. “That’s not the same, and you know it.”
Paige shrugged again, a small smile playing on her lips. “It’s just… a little hard to be around each other sometimes now.”
Ice narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Why?”
Paige didn’t answer, but the grin on her face grew wider, her expression practically glowing with unspoken thoughts.
Ice groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. “Ew, dude. You’re disgusting.”
Paige just laughed, grabbing a basketball nearby and bouncing it lightly off Ice’s arm. “Shut up.”
But as the laughter faded, Paige’s expression softened, her smile dimming into something more thoughtful. “Honestly though, Azzi just needs some space from me to figure things out, and I’m trying to give her that.”
Ice tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “Space for what?”
Paige hesitated, her fingers idly spinning the basketball in her lap. She glanced away briefly before answering, her tone careful and measured. “She has a lot of internal things to figure out before she can even think about being with me. I realized it a while ago but I don’t know if she has.”
Ice’s brow furrowed, but she nodded slowly. “That sounds… rough.”
“It is,” Paige admitted, her voice quieter now. “But she’s worth it. So I’m giving her what she needs.”
Ice studied her for a moment, then leaned back with a small smile. “Damn P, you really love her, huh?”
Paige didn’t even flinch. She met Ice’s gaze, a soft but unwavering certainty in her eyes. “Yeah, I do.”
Ice smirked, her teasing tone returning. “You’re still a simp, though.”
Paige groaned, chucking the basketball at her again, though the grin tugging at her lips betrayed her. “Shut up, Ice.”
November 2022
The next month was much harder than Paige thought it would be. Between missing Azzi and being sidelined by her injury and not being able to start the season with the team, she felt like she was drowning most days. Basketball, her usual escape, was no longer an option. Instead, she found herself in the gym, not to work out but to just sit in the silence, wishing she could push her body for hours on end. But eventually she’d get too frustrated when all she could do was shoot a few flat footed shots and she'd just let herself cry in the empty gym until she didn’t have any more energy. Other times, she’d just sit in her car, staring ahead, trying to calm her thoughts. More than once, she ended up sick at the sight of the back seat—a painful reminder of what, and who, was missing.
Azzi wasn’t doing much better. She’d become a mirror of who Paige used to be, burying herself in the gym day and night, trying to outrun her thoughts. Paige was still there for her, though, which made Azzi feel like even more of an ass, having somebody as sweet as Paige, just waiting for her to get her shit together. When things were a little too hard and Azzi would come to her door with tear stained eyes in the middle of the night Paige always let her in, let her talk about whatever she needed to or just sleep. The first time it happened was a random Tuesday at 3am.
Azzi’s knocks were gentle and tentative at first but it was enough for Paige to stir, her mind still fuzzy from sleep as the knock came again, a little louder this time. She groggily threw off her blanket and shuffled to the door, blinking against the dim hallway light cascading from the bottom of the door.
When she opened it, Azzi stood there, her mascara streaked down her cheeks, her eyes red and swollen, as though the weight of the world had poured out of her. There were no words, no explanations, just a look that said everything, Paige didn’t ask, she just stepped aside, letting Azzi into the warmth of the room. Azzi’s shoulders were trembling, but she didn’t speak, her chest rising and falling in slow uneven breaths. Paige closed the door softly behind her, then walked back to her bed, sinking back into the mattress where Azzi now laid, holding one of Paige’s pillows close.
Paige reached over, draping her arm against Azzi’s torso as she pulled her closer but not quite cuddling her. Just enough to let Azzi know she wasn’t alone as Paige’s eyes fluttered shut drifting back to sleep.
After that night Paige couldn’t imagine not being there for Azzi, knowing what she was struggling with. But things weren’t the same. They didn’t text everyday anymore, and their hangouts had all but stopped after it became clear that they didn’t really know how to be just friends anymore. The space between them, once so easy to close, now felt like an endless stretch.
Azzi blamed herself for what happened between them. She was constantly fighting an internal battle that seemed like a losing game. One part of her knew exactly how she felt about Paige, knew she wanted the older girl more than anything. The other half was a constant pull against this thought process. The part of her brain that was telling her she wasn’t the type of person who takes risks like this, she didn’t gamble her future that she had worked so hard for. Constantly in her own ear telling herself she had every right to be scared.
Now, Paige sat alone in the empty gym, her legs stretched out in front of her, a basketball resting at her feet. She knew she couldn’t play much, just dribble around and shoot here and there, so she came here to think, to feel some semblance of peace. The quiet of the gym was comforting, even if it couldn’t heal what was broken, only Azzi could do that.
The sound of the door opening broke the silence. Paige glanced up to see Azzi standing there, her figure framed by the dim gym lights. Azzi paused, stuck in the doorway. The sight of Paige, lost in thought, felt all too familiar, stirring memories of another time they’d both hesitated to bridge the distance between them.
For a moment, neither of them spoke, both caught in a whirlwind of emotions and memories. Paige chuckled softly at the irony, breaking the tension, and nudged the ball with her foot, sending it rolling toward Azzi.
Azzi’s lips curved into a small smile as she stepped inside, picking up the ball. She hesitated again, glancing at Paige, before making her way over. She sat down beside her but left enough space between them to keep the air light, uncertain. Neither of them spoke right away, the quiet wrapping around them like a truce.
Paige was the first to break the silence, her voice cutting through the stillness. “You played like shit last game.”
Azzi blinked, then burst out laughing, the unexpectedness of Paige’s comment catching her off guard. “Shit is an understatement,” she admitted, shaking her head.
Paige smirked, leaning back slightly. “What’d you come here to work on?”
Azzi shrugged, a noncommittal gesture. “Anything, I guess.”
Paige hummed thoughtfully as she got to her feet, grabbing the ball. Ice’s words from October echoing in her mind now. She spun the ball between her hands, glancing at Azzi. “Why you been taking so long to shoot lately?”
Azzi crossed her arms, tilting her head. “The passes are all over the place,” she said simply. “I got used to you hitting me in stride so it’s a big adjustment.”
Paige paused, nodding as she processed Azzi’s words. There was a quiet understanding in the air—an acknowledgment of how much they relied on each other, on and off the court.
By now, Azzi had stood up, her eyes tracking the ball as Paige passed it casually between her hands. Paige grinned. “Let’s work on it.”
Azzi raised a brow, confused. “Work on what?”
Paige laughed, her grin widening. “I’m about to throw you some of the worst passes of your life, and you’re gonna work on shooting without taking too much time to adjust the ball.”
Azzi couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, but her feet were already carrying her toward the court.
Before they began, Azzi paused and looked at Paige. “I miss you,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of everything left unsaid between them.
Paige’s expression softened, and a small, genuine smile spread across her face. “I miss you too, Az,” she replied, her tone equally tender. Then, without missing a beat, she threw Azzi an intentionally terrible pass, the ball veering off to the side.
Azzi barely managed to catch it, quickly gathering herself for the shot, but the ball clanged off the rim.
Paige smirked. “Not bad. Now do it faster and try making it next time.”
Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips. They fell into an easy rhythm after that, Paige throwing increasingly awful passes, and Azzi working to shoot without hesitation. Laughter echoed through the gym when the passes were too bad to catch, blending with the rhythmic sound of the ball hitting the hardwood.
For the first time in a long time, it felt like they were back in sync—no words needed, just the game and each other.
The rhythm they had fallen into was effortless, the sound of Azzi’s playlist flowing through the speakers now as they worked on her shot. Laughter occasionally filled the gym, the tension from the past weeks melting away with every pass and shot.
That is, until the music cut off, replaced by the ring of an incoming call.
Azzi, mid-dribble, glanced toward her phone sitting on the floor. “Can you check who it is?” she asked Paige, who was closer.
Paige hesitated for a moment before walking over. She glanced at the screen, the name flashing boldly. Her jaw tightened ever so slightly, but it was enough for Azzi to notice. Paige cleared her throat. “Somebody named Elle,” she said, her tone a little too neutral.
Azzi didn’t miss the shift in Paige’s posture or the way her eyes flicked away from the phone. She didn’t need Paige to say anything; she could see the wheels turning in her head.
“It’s not what you think, Paige,” Azzi said, her voice firm but gentle.
Paige shook her head, brushing it off with a forced smile. “No, Azzi, you don’t have to explain—”
“Paige,” Azzi cut her off, stepping closer. “She’s my partner for a project. That’s it.”
Paige looked down, her fingers grazing the edge of her shirt. “It’s fine if it was something else you know,” she said softly, though the words felt hollow even to her.
“No, it isn’t,” Azzi said firmly, her voice leaving no room for doubt in Paige’s mind. “It isn’t fine because I don’t want anybody else. I only want you, Paige. I’ve told you that, and I mean it.”
Paige’s shoulders sagged slightly, guilt flashing across her face. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I know it’s not really my place.”
Azzi stepped even closer, her eyes searching Paige’s. “It is your place,” she said, her voice softer now. “So you don’t need to apologize.”
Paige glanced at her, caught in the sincerity of Azzi’s gaze. The tension in the air softened, the weight between them shifting back into something warm and steady.
“Okay,” Paige finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Azzi nodded, giving her a small smile. “Good. Now come back over here—I’m not done getting used to these terrible passes.”
Paige chuckled despite herself, picking up the ball. And just like that, they found their rhythm again, though the words exchanged lingered, a quiet reassurance binding them closer.
After finishing up in the gym, both of them grabbed their things and headed out. Paige made her way toward her car, expecting Azzi to follow. But when she glanced over her shoulder, she noticed Azzi strolling casually along the sidewalk.
Paige frowned, stopping in her tracks. “What are you doing?” she called out.
Azzi glanced back with a small shrug. “I didn’t drive.”
Paige’s eyes widened in disbelief, a mix of offense and exasperation flashing across her face. “You thought I was going to let you walk?” she said, her tone incredulous.
Azzi chuckled but didn’t respond, her smile widening as Paige simply muttered, “Unbelievable.”
With a grin, Azzi turned and walked toward Paige’s car. Paige muttered under her breath the whole time, just loud enough for Azzi to hear. “She’s gotta be crazy. Can’t believe she thought I’d let her walk. Who does she think I am?”
When they reached the car, Paige yanked open the passenger door, motioning for Azzi to get in. Azzi stepped in with a laugh, and Paige shut the door with more force than necessary, her irritation over something so small almost comical.
By the time Paige slid into the driver’s seat, Azzi was grinning at her. “I miss how dramatic you are,” she teased, still laughing softly.
Paige shot her a glare as she started the car. “You give me a fucking headache Azzi,” she said, but there was no bite to her words.
When they arrived back at the dorms, Paige’s suite came up first. She slowed to a stop, slinging her bag over her shoulder and turning toward Azzi.
“Night,” Paige said, already halfway to the door.
Azzi nodded but didn’t keep walking. “Paige,” she called, her voice stopping Paige in her tracks.
Paige turned back, raising an eyebrow slightly, her curiosity piqued. “Yeah?”
Azzi hesitated for a moment, then smiled softly. “I’ve been thinking…can we maybe talk tomorrow?”
Paige blinked, her confusion evident, but she nodded. “Yeah… of course,” she said, her tone cautious.
Azzi’s smile widened a little , though she didn’t offer any explanation. “I’ll text you,” she said simply.
Paige gave her a small smile in return. “Okay. Goodnight, Az.”
“Goodnight, P,” Azzi replied, her voice quiet but warm as she turned to walk toward her own suite.
Paige lingered for a second, watching Azzi’s retreating figure, her mind swirling with questions. Finally, she shook her head and headed inside, her thoughts lingering on the way Azzi had looked at her just now.
…
The next day, around 1 PM, Paige’s phone buzzed with a text from Azzi.
💗: You hungry? Let’s grab some food
Paige smiled at the message, typing a quick reply.
P 💗: Yeah that works for me
It didn’t take long for Azzi to reply.
💗: We’re taking my car.
Paige frowned slightly, shooting back a quick question mark.
P 💗: ?
The response came almost immediately.
💗: I almost threw up in your car yesterday when Steve Lacy came on
Paige let out a loud laugh, immediately understanding what Azzi was referring to as she had her own struggles being in there sometimes. She shook her head, typing back with a smirk.
P 💗: That’s dramatic, even for you
Azzi’s reply was short but effective.
💗: Not taking any chances
Still chuckling, Paige grabbed her things, her mood lighter than it had been in days. Azzi always had a way of pulling her out of her head, even with something as simple as sending a few texts.
They sat down at a corner table, the comforting hum of the restaurant around them as they ate their Chipotle bowls. The familiar, easy chatter filled the space between them yesterday being what they needed to return to the natural rhythm of their friendship, the laughter, and the simple joy of each other's company.
But, as the conversation slowly died down, Azzi looked at Paige, her expression shifting slightly.
“I want us to start over,” Azzi said quietly, her voice soft but serious.
Paige blinked, furrowing her brow. “Start over? What do you mean?”
Azzi took a deep breath, clearly trying to find the right words. “I want us to try this again, but—” she paused, trying to make sure she found the right words. “I want us to do it the right way this time.”
Paige tilted her head, her confusion evident but her tone gentle with Azzi like always. “Azzi, what are you saying?”
Azzi’s gaze was unwavering as she leaned forward slightly, the space between them feeling more intimate. “I want us to date, Paige,” she said, her voice steady.
Paige’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment before a soft, teasing smile tugged at her lips. “So... you want to be my girlfriend now?”
Azzi hesitated, her fingers tapping gently against the edge of the table. “No…at least not yet,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “I want us to go on dates and test the waters. We did things the wrong way, and I want to fix it.”
Paige’s eyes softened as a slow smile began to form on her lips. She leaned forward slightly, clearly proud of Azzi. “Tell me more about it.”
Azzi smiled at the shift in Paige’s expression, the spark of curiosity now in her eyes. “We can go on dates,” Azzi continued, her voice steady as she outlined her plan she thought a lot about. “But I’m not going to let you kiss me until we have a few dates. And we’re not going to have sex for a while, or we’re going to at least try really hard not to. I want us to get to know each other as two people dating, not just best friends who happen to be doing this.”
Paige nodded, as she listened to her. She hadn’t expected Azzi to say something like this when she asked her to lunch today, but it made sense for her. It was a different approach, one that felt like it had the potential to be something more controlled. Something more grounded. Which is exactly what Azzi needed.
“So, where’s this coming from?” Paige asked, her voice low with curiosity but also a touch of tenderness. “I thought you were—”
Azzi cut her off, her gaze soft but unwavering. “Despite what you think, Paige,” she said quietly, “I’m in love with you. These past few weeks have done nothing but show me that. I’m still scared as hell, but I want to at least try.”
Paige swallowed, her heart beating a little faster at the sincerity in Azzi’s voice. She really hadn’t expected this, she expected Azzi to try to mend their friendship, try to get back to their usual routine of hanging out. But the more Paige thought about it she understood. Azzi was always so detailed and plan oriented. She always needed steps and checkpoints to ease her mind, to let her see the progress she was making.
“I’m not asking for anything,” Azzi continued, her voice a little shaky now that Paige hadn’t said much. “I just want to start fresh. I want us to really try.”
Paige leaned back slightly, her arms folded across her chest as she processed Azzi’s words. The weight of everything that had been said, everything that had been left unsaid, hung heavily in the air. She couldn’t help but hesitate, uncertainty creeping in despite the hope in her chest.
“How do I know you’re not just going to change your mind again?” Paige asked, her voice quiet. She wanted to believe Azzi, wanted to dive into this with her, but it was hard to shake that lingering fear of being hurt again.
Azzi didn’t flinch at the question. She just looked at Paige, with a calmness that her voice conveyed when she answered. “You don’t,” she said simply. “That’s the thing I had to get over. We don’t really know what’s going to happen. That’s been my fear this whole time. Not knowing. Not being in control of it. But we never know what’s going to happen at any point in life so.”
Paige’s gaze softened, and she nodded slowly, taking in what Azzi was saying. But Azzi wasn’t done, and she shifted slightly, her hands in her lap as she continued.
“I was talking to my mom the other day,” Azzi began, her voice quieter now, but still with a hint of vulnerability. “And she tried to make me laugh by asking who shat in my breakfast. But honestly, it just made me cry more than anything.”
Paige couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing exactly how Katie could be. “Figures,” she said with a soft smile, her heart lifting slightly at the mention of Azzi’s mom.
Azzi smiled too, but the smile was fleeting, and the seriousness returned quickly. “Yeah. But... I told her everything that’s been going on. All of it. How I feel about you. About us.” She paused, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her shirt. “Some parts of the story shocked her, honestly. I thought she was going to yell at me, but she didn’t. She just listened.”
Paige’s eyes widened a little, a surprise settling in her chest. She hadn’t expected that. For Azzi to talk to her mom about them already? It was a huge step. It made her heart skip a little—an odd mix of pride and tenderness swelling inside her knowing Azzi had come out to her mom.
“How... how did it go?” Paige asked softly, unsure of how to phrase the question but needing to know. She could sense how much this conversation had meant to Azzi.
Azzi’s lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. “It was fine. Perfectly fine, actually,” she said, her voice steady now. “I thought it was going to be hard, but... she already kind of knew. I mean, she’s not blind. She said she could tell something was going on, especially with how much time you spend at our place whenever we’re on break. She thought it was pretty obvious.”
Paige blinked in surprise. She hadn’t thought Katie would pick up on that. “Really?”
Azzi nodded, her gaze soft but thoughtful. “Yeah. She’s always been good at reading me, even when I’m not saying anything. We were talking for a while after I explained everything... she said something that kinda struck a nerve.” Azzi’s voice lowered again, a little more humor to it. “She was explaining some stupid metaphor that I could never understand, and she said life is all about taking chances. Usually, the best ones—the ones that really matter—are the ones that scare us the most.”
Azzi’s eyes met Paige’s, and there was something raw, something real, in the way she looked at her. “And you scare the hell out of me, Paige,” she said quietly, her words filled with sincerity. “So that’s exactly why I can’t just let us pass by. I can’t keep living in the ‘what ifs.’ I’ve been too afraid, and I’m tired of being afraid.”
Finally, Paige let out a deep breath and reached across the table, her hand finding Azzi’s with a gentle squeeze. “I’m scared too,” Paige admitted softly.
Azzi’s eyes softened, and she squeezed Paige’s hand in return, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not asking for anything more than what I said. I just want to try, Paige. I want us to take it slow, to get to know each other again and see where it goes.”
Paige’s smile was small but genuine, her heart fluttering at the thought of what could be. “Okay. We’ll try,” she said, the words feeling right. “We’ll take it slow.”
Azzi’s smile mirrored hers, though it was still laced with vulnerability.
…
This is how, a few days later, Paige and Azzi were on their first date.
Azzi had initially tried to take the reins, attempting to plan every detail, but Paige quickly vetoed the idea, claiming she’d been waiting for months to make this happen. Azzi didn’t even try to argue with that logic.
Now, they were on their way to a mystery destination Paige refused to disclose, with music filling the car. The ride was easy, lighthearted, and full of laughter—until Azzi reached out and skipped another Steve Lacy song.
Paige couldn’t help but laugh, glancing over at her. “What? Are we never listening to the album again?”
Azzi shot her a glare but couldn’t entirely hide the amused glint in her eyes. “Not for a long time, we’re not,” she retorted firmly, her voice dripping with mocking distress.
Paige only chuckled as they pulled into a parking lot. Azzi’s curiosity grew as she turned her attention ahead, her brow furrowing slightly until recognition dawned. Her lips curved into a wide grin.
“You brought me to the fair?” she asked, her voice tinged with excitement.
Paige glanced at her, her own smile soft but proud. “Yeah. Dinner’s boring,” she said simply, shrugging as if it was the most obvious decision in the world.
Azzi laughed, her eyes sparkling as she shook her head. “Of course you’d think that.”
Paige leaned back in her seat, looking out at the glowing lights of the fairground. “Come on, big head,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt.
…
Their date was going amazingly. Azzi, naturally, made Paige get her a funnel cake, ignoring Paige’s protests as she tore off a piece and practically forced it into Paige’s mouth. Paige grumbled but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips.
As the night went on, it became obvious that Paige was annoyingly good at everything. Every time Azzi swore Paige was about to lose a game, Paige proved her wrong. Neither of them wanted any of the prizes, so Paige made a habit of giving them away, handing stuffed animals and trinkets to random kids. The two of them would watch as the kids ran off, bouncing with excitement, leaving Azzi shaking her head at how effortlessly charming Paige could be with all ages.
Now, they were strolling through the fair, Paige’s arm casually draped over Azzi’s shoulder while Azzi leaned into her side, the warmth of the moment wrapping around them like the glowing lights of the fairground. But their quiet bubble burst when a small fan recognized Paige.
The fan approached cautiously, smiling nervously. “Hey, Paige, can I get a quick picture?”
Paige offered a warm smile. “Of course.”
After the fan snapped a picture with Paige, they hesitated before turning to Azzi. “Um, can I get one with you too Azzi?”
Azzi blinked in surprise before smiling and nodding. “Sure.”
Once the pictures were taken and the fan left with a cheerful wave, Paige’s attention shifted, her eyes catching sight of something in the distance. “Oh my god,” she muttered, her face lighting up as she grabbed Azzi’s hand.
“What?” Azzi asked, laughing at Paige’s sudden enthusiasm.
Paige didn’t answer, pulling her toward the basketball booth, where a massive Olaf stuffed animal sat on display. “It’s too good to be true,” she said, practically bouncing with excitement.
When they reached the booth, Paige handed the worker some tickets. He explained the rules, telling her she needed to make three out of five shots to win. Paige nodded and stepped up to the line drawn on the concrete.
But the worker held up a hand. “Nah, I know who you are. You gotta scoot back,” he said with a grin.
Paige laughed, stepping back as Azzi chuckled beside her. “Uh oh, the pressures on now,” Azzi teased.
Paige made the first four shots with ridiculous ease, defying the odds of the notoriously rigged carnival game. As she took her time with each shot a small crowd had gathered to watch her, but Paige was unfazed.
The worker let her take the fifth shot just for fun, even though she’d already won. Azzi, standing to the side, couldn’t resist teasing her. “You’re such a show-off,” she said, crossing her arms with a smirk.
Paige, knowing full well Azzi secretly loved it, grinned as she lined up the last shot. Without breaking eye contact with Azzi, she released the ball. The ball going in.
Azzi rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a laugh. “You’re irritating.”
Paige strolled over to the worker, who handed her the massive Olaf. Without hesitation, Paige turned and placed it into Azzi’s arms.
“This one’s yours,” Paige said with a confident grin.
Azzi looked down at the stuffed Olaf and then back at Paige, her expression softening. “You’re cute, you know that?”
Paige just smiled at her, as she felt a tap on her lower back seeing a little girl with a huge smile on her face.
After Paige and Azzi finished taking pictures with a few fans who had crowded around to watch Paige play the game, she and Azzi resumed walking through the fairground, their steps in sync. Paige’s arm once again draped casually over Azzi’s shoulder, the familiar, comforting ease of their connection returning.
They walked in silence for a few moments, but the air between them was full of understanding. They didn’t need to fill every moment with words—just the presence of each other was enough.
When they reached the car, Paige opened the door for Azzi like always. Azzi smiled, appreciating the gesture every time Paige does it, before sliding into the passenger seat. Paige walked around the front of the car, slipping into the driver’s side. She took a moment to glance over at Azzi, who was still holding the Olaf stuffie, her eyes soft but smiling.
Paige gave a small smirk as she started the engine, teasing, “You’re actually keeping it, huh?”
Azzi rolled her eyes playfully, adjusting the stuffed Olaf on her lap. “Yes, it’s Olaf. I’m keeping it.”
Paige laughed, shaking her head as she pulled out of the parking lot. The soft hum of the engine filled the silence between them as they drove off towards UConn, the glow of the fair behind them, leaving only the warmth of the moment to hold onto.
…
Long after Paige had “dropped” Azzi off following their first date, she found herself wandering into the gym. She wasn’t entirely sure why, but something about the court always drew her in. Spotting Azzi on the court dribbling, Paige couldn’t help but chuckle softly to herself.
Azzi noticed her almost immediately, stopping mid-dribble with a smile. “What are you doing here?”
Paige smirked, walking further onto the court. “I could ask you the same thing.”
Azzi shrugged as Paige closed the distance, casually swatting the ball out of her hand. Azzi laughed, shaking her head. “Ah, there’s my annoying best friend.”
Paige laughed along, saying. “Ahh, so I’m ‘best friend Paige’ right now, huh?”
Azzi nodded, still grinning.
Paige raised an eyebrow, tilting her head dramatically. “Okay then, tell me something. I heard you went on a date tonight.”
Azzi chuckled at Paige’s antics, her laughter light and easy. “I did.”
Paige dribbled the ball a few times, casually lining up a close-range shot. “How was it?”
Azzi tilted her head, pretending to consider it. “Ehh I was a little nervous at first, but I actually loved it.”
Paige glanced at her with a playful smirk. “Nervous? Why were you nervous?”
Azzi’s gaze softened as she shrugged, her voice quieter. “You know why.”
Paige arched an eyebrow, her voice teasing. “Humor me.”
Instead of answering directly, Azzi pivoted the conversation. “I went on some dates when we weren’t talking, like you suggested.”
Paige paused mid-dribble, her curiosity piqued. “You did?”
Azzi nodded, fidgeting with her hands. “Yeah... with girls.”
Paige hummed at this as she resumed dribbling, her voice casual but interested. “How were they?”
Azzi shrugged, her expression thoughtful. “They were okay. It’s not like I was trying to figure out feelings for them... more so to figure out myself.”
Paige nodded, her gaze softening with a soft smile. “And?”
Azzi smiled faintly, her tone more serious now. “They helped. The conversation with my mom I was telling you about? A whole lot easier after that.”
Paige paused her dribbling to smile at Azzi, her voice full of warmth. “I’m proud of you, Az.”
Azzi’s lips curled into a small, grateful smile, the sincerity of Paige’s words lingering in the air.
Azzi met Paige’s gaze, her tone playful yet sincere. “There’s a little more attention that comes with going on a date with Connecticut’s version of Jesus though.”
Paige burst out laughing, tossing the ball softly at Azzi, who caught it with a grin.
Azzi continued, her voice shifting to something more serious. “I was nervous at first because I knew people would recognize us—mostly you. It’s a lot of extra attention.”
Paige nodded, her grin slowly growing as she listened.
Azzi tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “What? Why are you smiling like that?”
Paige leaned casually against the wall, her grin turning a bit smug. “You know I picked the fair on purpose, right?”
Azzi’s brows furrowed. “No...”
Paige smirked, folding her arms. “It’s far enough from campus that we wouldn’t be recognized as much, but it’s also a Thursday, which means there weren’t going to be a lot of teenagers or people our age there. Just a bunch of kids with their parents or older people. People our age would usually go on Fridays or Saturdays.”
Azzi blinked, processing the thoughtfulness behind Paige’s planning.
Paige stepped closer, her voice softening. “I picked today because I knew anyone who approached us would either be a super-excited kid or an old-school basketball fan who wouldn’t care why it was just the two of us there together. I wanted it to be... easier for you.”
Azzi was stunned, her lips parting slightly as she stared at Paige. “You really thought that far ahead?”
Paige shrugged with a casual air, though her gaze was warm. “I know you, Az. I know how hard this is for you.”
Azzi laughed, her tone light again as she tried to hide how much Paige’s words meant to her. “If you knew what I was struggling with the whole time, why’d you let me make it seem like basketball was the only thing stopping me?”
Paige’s smile softened, her voice dropping just enough to convey her sincerity. “Because I needed to give you time. It’s not a realization someone else can process for you.”
The air between them shifted as Paige leaned casually against the wall, her height slightly towering over Azzi with the way they were standing. The space between them grew smaller without either of them noticing.
Azzi tilted her head up to look at Paige, her expression soft. “I miss your eyes,” she said quietly, almost as if the words slipped out without her permission.
Paige chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. “That’s always the first thing you say to me.” Her grin widened, teasing but fond.
Azzi didn’t bother denying it, her gaze unwavering. The weight of her words lingered in the air, pulling them closer in a way that had nothing to do with proximity.
After a moment, Azzi whispered, her tone playful but with a hint of nervousness, “I’m not letting you kiss me.”
Paige’s toothy grin grew, her confidence shining through. “That’s fine.” Her voice was low, carrying just enough to make Azzi’s breath hitch.
But Paige didn’t move away. She stayed close, her presence overwhelming yet comforting, as she just took in Azzi standing in front of her.
Azzi didn’t respond, her lips quirking up just slightly. Instead, she shook her head with a quiet laugh, looking away but refusing to step back.
Paige finally stepped back, breaking the tension with a soft laugh. The sound lingered in the air, as she picked up a basketball and started dribbling casually.
Azzi rolled her eyes, grabbing her bag muttering, “I’m leaving.”
Paige’s laugh grew louder as she called after her, “See you later, princess!”
Azzi didn’t stop or turn around, but a faint smile spread across her face. She lifted her hand and stuck her middle finger up in response, a playful gesture that made Paige laugh even harder as Azzi walked out of the gym.
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Hellooo :]
Pomefiore, 6, hurt/comfort
I'm so excited to see what you come up with! <3
I have once again succumbed to vil, I'm trying to choose others for pomefiore but... vil...
Last Thread || Vil Schoenheit
For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "Say that again" ; Genre: Hurt/Comfort
The argument had started small—a passing comment about your schedule, a critique of his relentless perfectionism—but it spiraled out of control before either of you could stop it.
"You're impossible sometimes, Vil," you said, your voice rising. "It's like you don't even listen to me!"
"And you think I’m being unreasonable?" Vil snapped back, his tone colder than you’d ever heard it. "Forgive me for expecting excellence!"
It stung, hearing that edge in his voice, like a blade cutting through the bond you cherished.
"Vil, this isn't about excellence. It's about you shutting me out and treating me like—like I don’t matter!"
He flinched, the sharpness in your words hitting their mark. You didn’t want to hurt him, but it felt like the only way to get through.
“I would never—” He paused, his hands trembling slightly before he crossed his arms to steady them. “Why can’t you understand that this is who I am? This is what I need to do!”
“Maybe I do understand, but I can’t keep standing here feeling like I’m walking on eggshells around you,” you retorted, frustration bubbling over. “I love you, Vil, but I cannot stand to be here right now!”
You grabbed your coat from the back of the chair and turned toward the door, your heart aching even as your hand reached for the handle.
“Wait.” His voice cracked, and the sound rooted you in place.
When you turned back, you saw something in his eyes you rarely saw: fear. True, unguarded fear. His lips parted as he spoke, barely above a whisper.
“Say that again.”
You froze, realizing what he meant. His composure, the armor he wore so well, was gone. His violet eyes were wide, vulnerable.
You sighed, your heart softening as you stepped closer. Slowly, you cupped his cheeks, the tension in his jaw melting under your touch.
“I love you, Vil,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “But I need some air. I’ll come back. I promise.”
He closed his eyes, leaning into your palms like he was holding onto the words, clutching them tightly in his heart. He nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement, but you could feel the relief in it.
You pressed a kiss to his forehead before stepping back and leaving, the air outside sharp and cold against your skin.
When you returned an hour later, Vil was sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. His hair was slightly disheveled, and he looked like he hadn’t moved since you left.
The moment you stepped inside, he stood, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of anxiety and hope.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his voice firm but tinged with vulnerability. “For shutting you out, for making you feel like you didn’t matter. You do. More than anything.”
You stepped closer, setting your coat aside. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I needed you to hear me.”
“I hear you,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I can’t lose you. You’re the only person who sees me—truly sees me—and I…” His breath hitched as he struggled to find the words. “I need you.”
You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you closed the gap between you, wrapping your arms around him. He clung to you, his grip almost desperate as he buried his face in your shoulder.
“I’m here,” you murmured, running a soothing hand down his back. “I’m not going anywhere.”
For a while, neither of you spoke. You just held each other, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words and mutual understanding.
Eventually, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands resting on your shoulders. “I’ll do better. For you.”
“And I’ll be here,” you said with a small smile. “For you.”
He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re my last thread holding me together, darling.”
“Then I’ll never let go,” you promised, sealing it with a kiss.
we like communication and peaceful argument resolution in this house
Masterlist
#twst#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland#vil schoenheit x reader#vil x reader#vil schoenheit#vil#twst vil#𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 holiday event
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HII NINI can i ask for ‘forcing them to crawl on their hands and knees’ and ‘grinding their face into their own mess(with a foot pressed behind them if you may)’ with dazai pleasee i just know he’s pathetic enough to come untouched from that thank youu
Dom!reader x sub!dazai - reader is gn
Warning: pet play!!, teasing, dirty talk, use of pet names, begging, (pre)cum eating, masochistic dazai, stepping
That reminds me when I decided to write sum’ angst for the first time, it was about dazai with abandonment issues, and people just WOULDNT STOP ASKING ME TO WRITE MORE CUZ THEY LOVED PATHETIC DAZAI SM???
He was such a good little pet. At times annoying, but still overwhelmingly fun. To be more specific, he was perfect for you, just the right amount of pathetic, just bratty enough to not overdo it and simply adorable. That smug little smirk he wears when he disobeys you, like right now.
You were sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to enter the room. A few moments ago you gave him the order to come in after he finished washing up, which is why you were waiting for his arrival. Once he opened the door, he leaned against the frame and smiled at you, asking almost innocently, “you called?” He was wearing a bathrobe that revealed his chest ever so slightly. “Yes, come closer.” You waved your hand, making yourself comfortable now that he’s here.
“Why don’t you tell me why I’ve been summoned?” He stroked through his hair, some water droplets dripped down from the ends. You stared at him, not expecting him to misbehave already, “I thought you’d know better, puppy.” Dazai chuckled, as if he expected you to say that, and immediately answered, “oh what to do, i don’t know anything~” while he talked, he brought the back of his hand to his forehead, the other one holding his clothes together.
“Can’t you explain it to me again?” The brunette pondered, pouting after he finished his sentence. You caught him sneaking some glances over to you while giving a show. “Hah- have I been too lenient with you? To think you’ve forgotten how to act around me.” Of course you knew this was just another defiant game of his, it was something he did whenever he wanted to mess with you. Normally you’d brush it off, but this time, maybe you should play along.
“Then listen to my orders carefully, puppy.” You leaned back a little, raising your head high up, “firstly, strip.” For a split second, you saw his eyes change from calculated to excited, before he went back to being collected. “Will I be the only one stripping? Oh y/n~ that’s so perverted.” He turned his head to the side, to hide behind his raised shoulder for a bit. Look at him acting like some shy virgin, was he going to ask you to be gentle as well?
Soon after, the white fluffy robe fell down to the floor. His cheeks were slightly flushed, but he wasn’t embarrassed yet. “Are you going to stare all day?” The male asked with a light grin, taking a few steps forward before closing the door behind him. “I was being considerate towards you, or do you want to be touched so badly?” He slowly walked over to you, answering in a cheeky tone, “of course, you’ve been starving me of affection lately.”
Suddenly you raised your hand and said, “stop,” and so he did as you wanted, stopping in the middle of the room. You sighed deeply, almost as if disappointed, then sneered, “don’t walk, crawl to me.” A shudder ran down his spine, and he clenched his hand subconsciously. “Crawl? Why should I do that…” he crossed his arms in front of his chest, also signing, as if copying you. You didn’t let this irritate you and simply replied, “don’t you want to earn my praise for a change?”
His ears turned red when he heard that, but instead of retaliating any more, he dropped down to his knees and looked up at you, “please praise me plenty then, master ♡” What’s this? Look at him suddenly being all docile, crawling to you on all fourth and keeping eye contact the whole time. This man, unbelievable, he really had no shame.
As soon as he arrived, he positioned himself in front of you, still on his knees all nicely with his hands gripping the edge of the bed. “Have I been good?” He almost mewled, smiling so brightly with crimson cheeks. Your hand stroked through his hair, watching him nuzzle into your palm. He’s trying so hard, it’s making you almost feel bad.
“You did pretty well, but…” you slid back on the mattress, until you could place your foot on the back of his head. Afterward, you stepped down, forcing him to bow his head. “Look at that mess your little tail made.” An amused chuckled slipped from your lips, and you couldn’t stop grinning at his flustered expression. The blush was even spreading to his shoulders now, how adorable.
Dazai stared at the ground right below him, not like he had any other choices anyway. And it was evident what you meant. His poor hard-on has been leaking the whole time, without him noticing his own arousal. Most of his precum dripped all the way down his shaft and onto his thighs, though some also coated the floor beneath him. Before he could even ask for forgiveness, you pressed down harder, resulting in his face being mere inches away from the poodle of mess he himself made.
“I’m sure a good dog would know what to do?” You’ve been mumbled, noticing how he shuddered at your every word. “Y/n, I-” he couldn’t finish his sentence before you grind his face into the liquid, muttering almost to yourself, “so cute.” He whined at the harsh treatment, feeling his dick twitch in excitement. Without further delay, he stuck his tongue out and licked, making sure to make loud slurping sounds as well just to put on another show for you.
“Hnnnghh~ mhmm… uhm, mmghff…! ♡♥︎♡” More whimpers escaped his throat, and his eyes rolled to the back to his head. His body felt so hot, so electric. Hot tears steamed down his rosy cheeks. He could feel the pressure of your foot against his head, as well as his stomach curling and flutter. Simply hearing your low, slightly hitched breathing made his heart pound. After all, it meant you liked what he was doing, so he was doing a good job, right, right?
“Good boy.” You complimented him, holding your own head with your hands. “You’re doing so good, such a pretty boy.” He continued to lick across the dirtied spot, feeling a rush of heat coursing through his veins. The taste of his own fluids were maddening. It didn’t exactly have a taste, but just the thought of it and the act of doing it in front of you made it special. And exactly because he was so into it, you couldn’t stop the praise from spilling, “You are my good and obedient puppy, aren’t you?”
“Mhmm- mGhUuu~♡♡♥︎..!!!” Suddenly he moaned against the cold ground, and his toes curled. You were a little surprised which is why you moved your foot, wondering if he was actually chocking. Once he raised his head though, you understood what was up with him. Hah. This fucking pervert, cumming all over the floor over nothing.
His eyes were glazed over, hazy while his tongue hung out of his mouth. Tears and drool decorating that pretty face as he whispered meekly, “m’ sorry~♥︎♥︎♡” You stayed quiet for a moment, calming yourself down as little muffled laughs rang in his ears. After that, you teased, “maybe I shouldn’t have praised you so early on. Oh well, it just means you have to clean it again.”
#sub character#sub!character#dom reader#dom!reader#sub bsd#sub bungou stray dogs#sub dazai osamu#sub dazai#dazai smut#dazai osamu x reader#dazai bungou stray dogs#dazai bsd#dazai#dazai x reader#bsd dazai#bungou stray dogs dazai#dazai osamu#dazai x you#dazai x y/n#dazai x gn!reader#dazai osamu x you#dazai osamu x y/n#sub bsd x reader#bsd x gender neutral reader#anniversary event#bsd x you#bsd x y/n#bsd x reader#dom gn reader#dom reader x sub character
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There isn’t a shred of doubt in your mind: Sukuna knows how to emulate an ego death with the way he fucks.
You’re used to the rough ploys, the sick dirty talk and mind-numbing orgasms that leave you half-blind. You know how good it gets, how addicted he is to ruining you. You know his end goal is always your mindlessness, each fuck an attempt to strip you of even your own name.
What you didn’t know is how good he can make overstimulation hurt.
It was a spur of the moment thing, a bet between you gone awry when you insisted he couldn’t beat his record of pulling five orgasms from you in one night. He said he could double it, you laughed in his face— now he’s laughing in yours.
It’s a low laugh that comes from his stomach as he bottoms out inside of you yet again. You may just be hypersensitive, but you swear you can feel the vibrations of his laugh in your pussy, it makes you whine, a sweet song he’s all-too used to.
Number nine is approaching— you feel it in the shaking heat of your stomach and the rolling nausea that rolls over you, you’re so cumdrunk you feel sick. Sukuna’s pace stays relentless, drilling into you with a fervour that seems almost inhumane— he’s driven by the sight of you unravelling beneath him. Sweat soaks the sheets beneath you, tears stain your cheeks, Sukuna groans.
“Come on, whore, obey my orders. Come for me.”
Your mind is so blurred you can’t tell when your orgasm starts and when it ends, a blinding moment of pleasure is all the indication of time you have. Sukuna grins, predatory like a shark set on the smell of blood. You cry, choked sobs stuck in your throat dislodge with each thrust onto Sukuna’s cock. He stretches you open, moulds you into the perfect fit for him— as if holy hands carved you from a model of his being.
“Please,” the moment you’re sane enough to speak again, or at least try to, you’re begging for an ounce of the king’s mercy. “Pleasepleaseplease, fuck… I cant take it anymore.”
Sukuna slows, rolls his hips into yours slow enough to give you a second to breathe. He may be a sadist, but he’s lenient when it comes to you. You take the moment to look at his body. Torso toned, tattooed, and scarred in beautiful ways you could stare at until your last breath. The flex of his muscles as he moves, stretching you out, is a drug within itself. God, he’s ruined you from the inside out.
A sudden snap of his hips into yours and you nearly scream. He’s still rock hard, and you’ve lost count of the times he’s fucked his cum into you— you take it as a testament of his need. When Sukuna thrusts into you again, his balls hitting your ass with the weight he puts into fucking you as deep as he can, you reach out and push a sweaty palm against his chest.
“Stop,” you grit your teeth. “You’re going to kill me, I’m so fucking sensitive.”
Another slow roll of his hips, Sukuna tests the waters. He leans in, his chest against yours in a mix of laboured breaths and sticking sweat, and laughs.
“Say the safe word.”
His dick pulses inside of you, his release near. You could tap out, let go of the all-encompassing pleasure you feel and nurse your sore thighs with a warm bath. But part of you knows you’ll grieve the fit of his cock inside you the second he pulls out and kisses you better. Ten orgasms at the hand of a man who’s done a lot worse than fuck someone into a coma— he’s not the man to push, he asks again.
“Safe word.”
“Fuck you.”
“What I fuckin’ thought.”
A flip switches and, although you hadn’t known it possible, Sukuna moves faster than ever before. His hands pawing at your tits, cock slipping in and out of you in a frenzied pace that grounds you as much as it wrecks you. Deep strokes of his cock inside you are enough to bring hot new tears to surface, pooling in your eyes as you forget how to breathe, think, do anything other than feel his presence inside of you.
It’s everything about him, his size and weight and the smell of blood and death that sticks to his skin and permeates the air around you. It’s the dedication, his fingers circling your clit in dedicated service to your pleasure, the searing heat of his cock near-breeding you stupid. It’s the way his breath quickens, and you can see his muscles tense and, despite your mind being halfway to heaven, you know he’s on the brink of cumming.
It’s the release you share, when he folds over on top of you, crushing you under his weight as he finishes. His hips thrusting as deep as he can get inside of you, sounds of sweet ecstasy leaving his mouth and staining your skin with goosebumps as you fall over the edge one last time.
Number ten, blinding— you see stars and galaxies. You could be convinced you were floating if not for the weight of Sukuna on top of you. Your body spasms and jerks in response to his ministrations, a masochistic ache for more settling in your stomach as you choke on your breath.
There’s a moment of silence as Sukuna buries his head in the crook of your neck, just a second to catch his breath. He could fall asleep right here inside of you if it weren’t for the pressing matter of aftercare, you could too. You’re so stuck on the mindless string of orgasms you’ve just had that when Sukuna pulls out of you, you nearly cry with sensitivity.
You can't form the right words, lost in a place less real than this. He leans down, presses a kiss to your lips softer than anything you’d imagine possible from the King of Curses, and then ducks his head down further to kiss the pussy he just fucked numb.
A cock of his head, chest still heaving with exertion.
“Cmon,” a hand extended to you, “bath. Y’need it.”
“Fuck you.”
“Maybe later.”
#sukuna smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#ryomen sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x reader
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Unspoken Words
The Hard Deck was alive with the usual chaos—a mix of laughter, the low hum of conversation, and the occasional clink of billiard balls. But Jake couldn’t focus on any of it. His eyes were locked on you, sitting at the bar with a drink in hand, seemingly lost in thought.
He sighed as Bradley’s voice buzzed in his ear, growing more frustrated by Jake’s lack of attention.
"I’m listening," Jake lied smoothly, his gaze darting back to you, his smirk deepening when he caught you stealing a glance his way.
Bradley groaned. "No, you’re not. You’re staring at her again."
Jake ignored him, already halfway to standing as he grabbed his beer and started toward you.
You noticed him immediately, and a wave of annoyance washed over you. "Great," you muttered under your breath, pretending not to see him as he slid up beside you.
"Hey, sweetheart," Jake greeted casually, leaning one elbow on the bar as he turned his full attention to you.
"What do you want, Jake?" you sighed, barely sparing him a glance.
"Ouch." He chuckled, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. "Not even a hello? You’re killing me here."
"Hello," you said flatly, turning back to your drink. "Goodbye."
Jake chuckled, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something he quickly masked with his usual charm. "You know, you don’t have to play hard to get. I already know you like me."
You turned to him, an incredulous laugh escaping you. "Excuse me?"
He smirked. "Oh, come on. Don’t act like you don’t. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention."
"Wow," you deadpanned. "The ego on you is truly something to behold."
Jake laughed, but the sound was softer this time, almost vulnerable. "You say that, but you’re still talking to me."
You rolled your eyes, setting your drink down with a little more force than necessary. "Only because you won’t leave me alone."
He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "What if I told you there’s a reason for that?"
"Let me guess," you said, crossing your arms. "Because you think you’re irresistible and I’m just another name on your list of conquests?"
Jake’s smirk faltered, and for a moment, something raw flashed across his face. "You really think that’s all you are to me?" he asked, his voice quieter now.
"Isn’t it?" you shot back. "You flirt with everyone, Jake. Why would I be any different?"
"Because you are different!" he snapped, surprising you with the sudden intensity in his tone. "God, do you have any idea what you do to me? I can’t even sit in a room with you without losing my damn mind."
You stared at him, momentarily stunned by his outburst. "Jake, I…"
"No, let me finish," he interrupted, stepping closer. "I flirt because it’s easy. Because it keeps things light and stops me from getting in too deep. But with you… it’s not easy. It’s terrifying."
"Why?" you asked, your voice softer now.
"Because you matter," he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. "Because you’re the first person who’s ever made me feel like this, and I don’t know what to do with it."
"Jake…" you started, but he wasn’t done.
"I know I’ve screwed up," he continued, his eyes searching yours. "I know I’ve given you every reason to think I don’t care. But I do. More than I can put into words. And yeah, maybe I flirt too much, and maybe I’m an idiot, but I’m your idiot if you’ll have me."
Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, but your walls were still up. "And what about the brunette? Or the one before her? How do I know this isn’t just another game to you?"
Jake exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "They didn’t mean anything. None of them did. I was just… trying to distract myself. From you. From how much I want you and how scared I am of messing this up."
"You’re scared?" you asked, a hint of disbelief in your tone.
"Terrified," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because you’re not like anyone else. You see through all my bullshit, and you still manage to get under my skin. And the thought of losing you before I even have you? It kills me."
The air between you felt heavy, charged with unspoken tension. Jake stepped closer, his hands hesitating before settling on your hips. "I’m not asking you to trust me right away," he said quietly. "But I’m asking for a chance. A real one. Let me prove to you that I’m serious."
You looked into his eyes, seeing nothing but sincerity. "Jake…"
"Please," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "Say something before I embarrass myself even more."
You took a deep breath, your resolve wavering. "You're such an idiot," you whispered, your voice barely audible. Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his.
Jake's hands found their way to your waist, gripping gently at first, then with more certainty as he kissed you back with fervor.
His lips moved against yours with an intensity that made your heart race. When he finally pulled away, both of you were left breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.
Jake cupped your face in his hands, his touch gentle but grounding. His soft laugh broke the silence, warm and relieved. "Yeah," he murmured, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But I'm your idiot."
For the first time, you didn’t correct him.
#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#jake seresin fanfiction#jake seresin x reader#top gun#top gun hangman#top gun imagine#top gun maverick#hangman x reader#jake hangman x reader
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