#Finally a 2024 fic :p

[wilsonthemoose]

and if i swallow anything evil

Sam gets taken by hunters and used as a weapon to fight demons.

Alternatively:

He thinks of it like recompense. Like he deserves it.

Set at the start of season 5.

Teen and up audiences. Demon blood, detox, withdrawals, canon-typical violence, canon-typical drinking, hallucinations

For this prompt (spoilers)

It's like the first breath of fresh air after being underground for weeks. Like the first sip of water in a desert under the midsummer sun. It's a sudden calm, like a shot of morphine, pain lifts out of each limb like it was never there, the bands of pressure around his brain disappear, his mind clears.

He never thought it would work out too well. Far enough down the path, he'd be lost, but we lie to ourselves to get by. Things work out in the end, don't you know? Haven't they always? Not really. This time though. You'll see.

He thinks of it like recompense. Like he deserves it. Like it's just. Maybe. Almost.

It's what he wanted, at the start. Kill the demons, save the hosts. Turn the curse into a blessing, make something good out of something evil. Make amends. Things work out in the end and maybe it never quite feels right, when he drinks blood, but no one said this was going to be easy.

He's learnt though. It's not what he wants now. A monster can do better but a curse is still a curse and some things are best left alone. Day late, dollar short. Timing all wrong, always.

He takes a deep breath in, closes his eyes and opens them slowly, steps through the door and into the bar, takes in the smell of blood and sweat, alcohol and smoke, leather and wood. He sees the demons, four of them, snarling, sneering, a dead man behind the bar, blood spilling out around him, seeping into the wood floor, a woman pinned against a table, hysterical, a man with knives and darts in his arms and torso, eyes closed against tears.

Reflex and instinctive hatred pull his arm up, palm held out like a shield that it isn't. It's almost thoughtless, he wants the demons dead and in twisting, writing, screaming obedience, they die.

Sam collapses to his knees with them. It's a calculated dose, the demon blood, no more and a little less than what he needs to get the job done. He could do without, usually, he thinks, he has to believe. These days, not so much.

-

He wakes up out of the blood warm waters of a silent nightmare that's gone before he's aware of himself, aware of the searing headache jack-hammering in his brain, the spasming hands, aching chest.

He thinks of it like recompense. Isn't that what you're supposed to do? Assign meaning to the suffering. Yes, things were difficult for a moment there, but didn't you learn so much though? He has to believe. Everything that's happened to you, hasn't it made you stronger?

He's shaking all over by the time his father walks up to his cot in the corner. Heavy black boots treading slow and precise across the floor, stopping half a pace from his nose. Sam looks at the torn leather on the tip of the right boot, one long scratch from some errant nail sticking out of the footbar of a chair, perhaps, or a friendly dog's nail cutting into the shoe as he plays. Sam doesn't know.

It takes him a while to look up at his father. John stays silent. He always knew how to wait him out. He stands at ease in a way Sam has never managed. One hand hanging by his side, the other thumb hooked through a belt loop. "How're you holding up, Sam?" he asks.

Sam chokes on a bitter laugh and raises a hand to indicate see for yourself.

His father sighs. "I'm sorry, Sam," he says.

The ground sways side to side like a raft in a storm. Sam tries to hold onto the floor, braces an arm against the wall and shuts his eyes against the vertiginous motion.

His father hands him the bucket, kneeling down to rest on a knee. Conditions are shoddy but his father has never flinched at that. Nor at much else. Sam throws up in the bucket and lies back down, clutching his cramping stomach. He'd like a sip of water, anything to soothe his throat. He coughs a little to clear his throat, then instantly regrets it, flinching at the pain. "Why're you sorry?" he asks, voice a hoarse whisper.

"I should have known you wouldn't be strong enough— smart enough, to resist."

Funny, Sam thinks, the things you regret. He twists to lie on his back and puts an arm over his head.

"I should have known, Sam." He sighs, pained. "Guess I wasn't smart enough either."

-

He'd like to say he gets used to it. He'd like to say it gets easier. What he'd really like to say is that he gets away. Or that he's rescued by his brother. That's how this story usually goes: one of them gets taken and the other comes in guns blazing, kicks the door down, shoots the bad guys. They run out to the car. Usually.

It's been a few months.

-

Dean works alone these days. He's almost honest when he says he prefers it this way. Don't examine anything too closely and it looks just fine. He leaves a voicemail or two for Sam. Gives him a vague location, coded. He doesn't hear back.

It feels like he's putting tape on a collapsing wall, climbing out onto the shaking, dead branch of a dead tree to save a dying leaf, throwing half a cup of water onto a burning building. It's no use thinking like that. If he does nothing he'll hate himself a little bit more.

The phone rings. "Dean?"

"Hey, Bobby." He rubs his eyes, looks at his watch, seven-thirty.

"Finish that job in Wichita?"

"Yes," he says before Bobby's stopped talking.

Yeah. No, I'm close. Yeah. 2 hours. Ok. Yeah.

It gives him a reason not to blow his brains out, if nothing else.

-

Here's what he knows: he's in an abandoned building somewhere near the coast. The place probably used to be, or was supposed to be, an apartment building. The area of the wall filled with rough cement probably used to be a window but the people holding him captive haven't done him the disservice of underestimating him and the window is gone, as is the one in the bathroom. The people who captured him are hunters, but that was a given.

They've changed location five times, they've changed vehicles three times.

By his less than reliable count, it's been over four months.

To no avail, Sam tries to tell them that he can do the job well enough without the blood. "Demon-bitch thinks we're dumb enough to get ourselves killed," they say when he brings it up. Sam tries not to dwell on the nicknames.

Lucifer doesn't let him not dwell on the nicknames.

Sam wakes up, or thinks he wakes up, in the quiet of night, and Lucifer is sitting on the floor by his head, back against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest, hands resting on his knees. As Sam becomes aware of him, he starts to talk. It's almost soothing and if Sam weren't forewarned, it might be entirely believable. "I can take you out of here Sam," he says, "It doesn't have to be like this. You don't have to suffer so much."

Sam flinched away the first time Lucifer touched him so he doesn't repeat the gesture. Stays close, but doesn't close the distance. In his weaker moments, Sam sometimes wishes he would. He misses being treated like a person.

He leans his head against the wall and looks up at the ceiling but Sam doesn't think that's what he's looking at, he suspects he's seeing the sky beyond it. Or maybe heaven. "We didn't deserve the things that were done to us, you and I," he says.

Sam turns away.

-

He still puts up a fight. Catches Mousy, the brown-haired one that bites his nails and smells perpetually like orange lozenges, with a hard left hook. Kicks out at the tattooed one and manages to catch him in the shin before the bag goes over his head, a punch lands hard on his nose and someone kicks him in the stomach, leaving him gasping for air through the potato-smelling bag over his head.

Dust catches in his throat and he coughs as his hands are cuffed behind his back. Then hands grab him by the arms and pull him up, push and drag him stumbling down the stairs. They lock him in the trunk and start the truck, acrid exhaust seeping through the sack and into his nose. He screws his eyes shut, head knocking against carpeted metal with the motion of the car until he loses himself.

It's bright daylight when the trunk lifts open on a scraping hinge, Mousy grabs hold of the bag and a handful of Sam's hair and yanks upward. Sam groans and ducks his head lower under the blare of the sun. The girl pinches his nose and Sam winches at the pain that shoots sharp across his face and into his brain. He keeps his mouth shut as long as he can and when he opens it to breathe, she upends a flask of blood into his mouth and clamps a hand across his face to stop him spitting it out.

He wouldn't, anymore, he doesn't think.

Warmth spreads through his aching muscles, soothing, like an embrace. He steps nimbly out of the trunk, mind clearing, focusing. His chest, aching mere seconds ago, feels light. He breathes in deep and lifts his face to the warm sun.

They're parked off the side of a road leading into a town. There's another car parked next to the truck, a 70s Buick, silver and scratched. Mousy, supporting a new shiner, Sam notices with satisfaction, is leaning over the front window talking to someone inside. Two men, Sam guesses, trying to see through the glare over the windows.

Civilian of the day is an old man, middle sixties, sitting uncomfortably on the bonnet of the Buick. The girl holds a gun to his head, casually like she's holding out an ice cream for a child. ("Insurance," they call it, "Make sure you don't bite the hands that feed you, Sammy.") He wonders if someday it won't be enough to hold him back.

He's filled with hate. He wants to kill them, all of them. He wants to rip Mousy's dirty hair out of his scalp.

The men step out of the car, grimly checking their weapons. It's routine for a hunter but something in the gesture makes Sam think they're nervous. They look at him warily. One of them, the older man, looks vaguely familiar. He quickly looks away from Sam and turns away before Sam can place him.

They look at each other in silence, the six of them, shifting uncomfortably, waiting for someone to speak. For a minute, it looks like they're going to keep loitering. Delay. Decide they're ill-prepared. Decide to come back another day. Then, like they want to get it all over with, they hoist their duffle bags, check their weapons once again, and still without a word spoken, start walking.

Crabby, the big dumb-looking one, nudges Sam in the back with his gun and he follows behind the rest of them. It's a small town, Sam can tell as soon as the first store-front appears (Gale's Grocers with a faded blue awning), suburban, the kind of place most people picture in their picket-fence dreams. It's empty. They walk past shuttered windows and parked cars, closed doors. Children should be playing in the streets.

A hip-flask full of blood when usually it's tiny sips shot into his mouth with a syringe. Sam wonders what they're in for. He looks over his shoulder at the woman walking along with the gun pointed at the old man, looking up and down the street. Worry has wiped the arrogant, disgusted look from her face for the first time since he's seen her, Sam realizes.

They see the first body in the middle of the street, crawling with flies. It looks like she's been run over from the way her chest is crushed, the angle of her broken legs, but there are no screech-marks on the road, no one tried to stop.

They stop for a few minutes there, then move on. The bodies become more frequent. There's dozens at the fire station, most burned, as if in irony. Even the flies avoid those. It's demons celebrating, Sam realizes and as he does, he becomes aware of hatred emanating from his companions. He's as culpable as any demon.

Crabby hits him hard in the back with the muzzle of his gun, making him stagger. They don't stop again. They pass the school with their faces turned the other way. It's the sort of place people would gather in an emergency and no one has the stomach to see what the demons made of them.

"Here," Sam murmurs, nodding down a street. The rest of them exchange glances and he waits for them to decide whether to trust him or not. In the end, they do.

They walk, instinctively closing together, the old man's breathing becoming laboured, whether in fear or fatigue, Sam can't tell. He gives him an apologetic look as they stop in front of the post office. Sam doesn't need to say anything, they can hear the noise for themselves, see the spilt blood, dragging scuff marks, the broken windows.

The hunters check their weapons again, compulsively. "Stay here and keep quiet." The woman tells the old man, pulling out a can of salt and drawing a circle for him in the shade.

So they're all going in, Sam thinks. It would be easy. Do nothing for just a moment too long and then it's over. It would be so easy. It's the first sin that makes you pay, the hundred others go by unthinking. Do nothing for a moment too long.

He looks at the old man trying to catch his breath. He wonders where he's from, where they found him, what arbitrary decision landed him at the mercy of these people. What door he forgot to lock, what empty parking lot he loitered in too long, what mistakes he's made. Will he live through today? And how long? A week, a month, a year? He looks down at his hands and wants to weep.

-

The weeks are a nauseous blur.

I'm sorry for what I've done but I wish I hadn't, and I won't do it again. It sounds like a generic, multipurpose apology. Sorry I broke the vase, mom. Sorry I let you down, sweetheart. Sorry I let the devil loose. Won't happen again, promise.

He has no way out.

The world is a blur of sounds and light, pain and nausea.

He has blood in his throat, metallic and sticky. His body aches from shaking but he can't seem to stop. Heartbeats fall like pounding feet on tarmac, jarring and fast, time stretches and bends and turns backwards, moments repeating. Sam curls up, arms braced in front of his face and prays for it all to be over.

-

Dean passes through town on a whim, it's not too far out of his way. He uses an attitude of casual arrogance and a fake badge (Springsteen) to pass through the roadblocks. He walks down streets littered with chalk outlines, stops at the police station to look in, then quickly ducks out when he sees a slew of suits. Too many agents, too many agencies, and the case is closed as far as his expertise goes anyway.

At the post office, he sees a policeman take a sample from a ring of salt, sees more chalk outlines, and talks to the deputy from the next county over. They think it's cult-related violence. It's been happening all over.

"You have no idea," Dean mutters. The deputy agrees about how terrible it all is and Dean's about to leave when one of the survivors, a young nervous-looking woman, comes in through the door, escorted by her mother and a couple of policemen.

Dean decides to stick around, maybe offer some consolation since the hunters who cleaned up this mess never bothered to stick around and explain to the survivors what had happened to them. He hangs back, watches the mother ask questions about when her daughter can get her belongings back from evidence, and waits for a moment alone. When they're leaving, Dean offers to escort them to the police station and they agree.

He positions himself next to the girl as they step out of the doors and into the street. He gives her a reassuring smile. Sam would be better at this but Dean's had to manage before. He starts by asking how she's doing, listens patiently to the stuttering response, then moves on to ask how much she remembers. "Officer, my daughter doesn't need to relive the whole ordeal for you," the mother intercedes.

"Of course not," Dean smiles, practiced. "Annie," he continues, "I've seen this kind of thing more often than you might think." He's rewarded with fleeting eye contact. "Those people— the ones who stopped it all—"

"I don't remember anything more," she cuts him off. "Just what I already told them. "That man came and—" she takes a shuddering breath and her step falters.

Dean grabs her elbow to steady her, then lets go as they walk on, the setting sun in their eyes. "Let me guess," he says, "He spoke something that sounded like an incantation, something in a different language?" Dean prods gently.

"What?" she stops in her tracks. The mother clucks disapprovingly at Dean. "No. Nothing— nothing like that. He didn't say anything. He just, he held his hand out and we all started screaming. And then—" she falls quiet.

The mother starts haranguing him in between soothing her daughter but Dean's not listening anymore.

"Annie— just— just one more thing," this last to the livid mother. "Tall guy? Needs a haircut?"

She nods.

-

He's outnumbered. There's seven of them, at least seven of them. Large, vicious, dark. Little paws scrabbling around his cot in the dark, keeping their distance, at first, then growing bolder at his feeble movements. Sam nods off and jerks awake immediately, snatching his hand back from the edge of the cot. He examines his finger for bite marks.

Strenuously, he maneuvers his leg up and pulls off a boot, holding it in his hand as a weapon he can just about wave, not swing. He fades in and out of sleep. For a while, somewhere in the night, his father comes and patrols along the edge of his cot and Sam sleeps a little better.

-

Dean finally manages to reach the phone the seventh time Bobby calls. He sinks down to the dirty floor, ignores the questionable stains on the carpet and slurs slow answers to Bobby's questions. "You ain't the only one with something to drink about," is the stellar advice Bobby gives him. Dean snaps the phone shut and decides he can try to make it back to bed in a few minutes.

"Why would he do this?" he asks the empty room and stares at his phone like he expects Bobby to call him back and give him an answer.

-

They work non-stop for a while and Sam starts to feel not quite his old self, but at least somewhat like a person again. He welcomes the break from repeated withdrawals and tries not to dwell on the fact that it means there are more and more demons around.

If he'd ever managed to keep tentative count of how many he's exorcised, he completely loses it now between rushing into buildings, breaking in through windows, driving cars into garages, being pulled to his feet and dragged back to the trunk.

Most hosts live, he reminds himself. It means something.

They change locations again, move to another state, set up at someone's abandoned farm. Sam gets a small, drafty room with creaking floorboards and a creaking bed with musty bedding. Crabby fits bars on the windows and sets up bear traps around the property. If Sam wasn't too weak to even think of running, he might take offence.

The silence is a relief, Sam finds.

Enough time passes and you'll get used to anything.

Mornings, when he's strong enough, he spends stalking the room with his boot held ready to throw but the rats don't come out in daylight. There's fewer here though and he's got a bed to keep him off the ground. He doesn't mind so much.

-

Bobby hears it from an old hunting buddy. In the interest of insulting them both against disappointment, Bobby keeps his tone mildly skeptical but Dean has no doubts, when he hears. The world decides to veer a little off course, spin a little faster. "It's Sam," Bobby says into the silence. "Remember the panic room?" he asks like Dean might've forgotten. "Sam can't be held" he says, "Not unless he wants to be."

Dean's skittering train of thought rams to a halt. Can't he?

And what if you're wrong?

-

A stab of pain in his chest wakes him and dizziness follows though he hasn't moved. His body feels like it's moving though, like it's trying not to crash. He realizes he's in the trunk again and can't remember how he got there. The last thing he remembers is the bathroom sink flying up towards his forehead. He groans.

When the trunk lifts open, he obediently opens his mouth for the blood. Mousy squints at him, shortsighted and suspicious, then tips the flask into Sam's mouth. He swallows the warm, coagulated blood. It makes him feel worse, these days. Clouds his head, makes him feel too clammy, too worked up, nerves on edge. He wants it all the same.

There is something broken in him.

-

It takes a few phone calls, that's all. Dean almost wishes it were harder because then there'd be something they could dress up as an excuse.

Dean drives up to the farm, parks off the driveway behind a tree, treads his way through the lawn, and breaks a window to enter the house. The noise draws a pallid, jaundiced-looking man into the hall to investigate, tuna-sandwich in hand. Dean strides forward and hits him over the head with the butt of his gun before he has a chance to react. He's out cold but Dean still checks him for weapons and finds nothing on him.

The other man is sitting by a loud police scanner and spinning his phone on the table. He never sees the mantle-piece come at him.

Dean sits down on the couch, rubs his forehead. If there were anyone else in the house, the noise would've drawn them out. There was no car so presumably the others are out— Dean was told there'd be four at least. Two less-than-spry men with no weapons on them.

Sam can't be held. Not unless he wants to be, Bobby's gruff voice taunts him and Dean buries his head in his hands. He considers leaving.

A dull thud, like something falling, makes him spring to his feet and he slowly moves into the hallway, pistol at the ready. He checks the rooms, one by one, opening each to find it empty until one doorknob refuses to twist. Dean raises his gun and kicks the door in, blinking until he adjusts to the darkness of the room, relieved only by the hall-light coming in through the door.

He's stunned to the spot and then the guilt crashes down, making him stumble forward.

Sam looks up at him, smiles bitter and faint, and puts his arm over his head.

"Sammy?" Dean grabs his jacket and shakes him, pulls his arm down from his face. His cheeks are gaunt and grey, eyes red and sunken in the sockets as if Dean's looking at a fresh corpse in a grave, tendons stand out on the backside of his hand, and he's tolerant of Dean, letting him turn and prod him, check for wounds. It unnerves him.

"C'mon, let's get you out of here," Dean tries for a comforting tone as he hauls Sam out of bed. Sam makes a noise, somewhere between confusion and pain, but doesn't resist as Dean pulls his arm over his shoulder and half carries him out of the house. "It's okay, Sam," he says, and "It's not far," and a dozen other reassurances that Sam doesn't seem to notice in the slightest but the silence is too much for Dean and he thinks if he doesn't fill it with meaningless nothings, one of them will say something real. Like perhaps don't you know who I am? Why won't you say anything?

They're near the car when Dean hears the noise behind him and whips round, letting Sam drop to the soft ground beside him, hand flying for the pistol in his belt but before he's even drawn it, there's a sound like a snap and a man screams, falling to the ground in agony. Bear-trap, Dean realizes. He picks Sam up, deposits him in the car and goes back. It takes two bullets to do the job but Dean comes back with an empty clip and the two men's wallets. He'll come back for the others later.

-

Sam wakes up in the Impala, warm for the first time in months. Sun shining on his face. He turns to look at Dean, offers him a faint smile, then closes his eyes.

He wishes it were real.

[mononijikayu]

you belong with me — nanami kento.

"Hi….I’m Kento."

“Kento, huh.” you said, testing the name again like you were rolling it around in your head, trying to get the feel of it. After a moment, you nodded, satisfied.

“Yeah, that’s my name.”

“That’s a good name.” You declared it with the authority of a five-year-old who had decided someone was officially worth their time.

“Your name’s okay too... I guess,” Kento replied, his tone so nonchalant it was almost teasing.

GENRE: alternate universe - no curses au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, childhood friends, best friends to lovers, romance, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, fingering, p to v sex, car sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (my love, etc), possessiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, best friend! nanami kento, best friend! reader;

WORD COUNT: 14k words.

NOTE: hello everyone, this is the final fic for 2024!!! wah, there's a lot to say. first and foremost, this fic would not be possible if it wasn't for the lovely person who commissioned it from me awhile back. please give them a lot of love and a lot of thanks.

they were my first ever commission here and still it flutters my heart with joy to have worked them. they were so good to me and continues to do so, with how they want to share this fic with you too.

also, i want to thank you all for sticking with me this 2024. it was a long road and a really painful time. i wrote to escape these painful times and i got through 2024 with you guys, just enjoying stories in my head. so thank you!!! there were a lot and there are still a lot i haven't published here.

i hope we continue to be together in 2025 too. i'll continue to write for both of us, to have solace in hard times. i bow to you in all ways that i can. thank you for being good to me!!! i love you all. this is kayu signing off for 2024. please have a lovely and wonderful new year and i'll see you on january 2025 <33333

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if you want to, tip! <3

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EVEN AS A CHILD, YOU THOUGHT THAT HE BELONGED TO YOU. It was a childish little thing, you knew that much. But the moment you met Nanami Kento at the park when you were five years old, you just knew he was going to be your best friend.

And no one else could claim that from you. It wasn’t something you decided after a long debate in your head. If anything, it was instinctive, instant, like the way a flower turns toward the sun. What surprised you even more was that he didn’t seem to mind it.

That day, Nanami Kento was sitting on the swings, looking unusually serious for a kid. His little legs dangled, barely brushing the ground, and he rocked back and forth so slightly it was as if he wasn’t even moving. It was odd. 

Most kids treated the swings like they were flying machines, pumping their legs wildly, laughing as they soared. But not Kento. He just sat there, his small hands gripping the chains, his gaze fixed on the ground as though it held all the answers to the universe.

It wasn’t sadness—not exactly. He didn’t look miserable or lonely. No, it was more like he was... satisfied. Content in his little bubble of silence, where the noise of the playground seemed to slide right past him.

You, however, were not content with his quiet. What could a kid possibly have to think about so deeply? Why wasn’t he running around, chasing someone, or shouting nonsense with the other kids? How could he stomach sitting there alone for so long?

The questions buzzed in your head, but more than that, you felt a pull. You wanted to know him. You wanted him to talk to you, to share whatever thoughts were hiding behind those serious brown eyes. And if he wouldn’t come to you, well, that was fine. You’d go to him.

You had the kind of confidence that only comes from being five years old and utterly fearless. The kind of confidence that didn’t know rejection or hesitation, only the certainty that the world would say "yes" if you asked it nicely enough.

So, you marched right up to him, your pigtails bouncing with each determined step. You put on your brightest smile, the kind of smile that has always gotten adults to bend down and coo. “Aren’t you just the sweetest?”

"Hi!" you announced, planting yourself firmly in front of him like he had no choice but to acknowledge you. You told him your name, grinning at him. 

He blinked, startled out of his deep, secured thoughts to the sight of you. It took a while, but he  lifted his caramel gaze to meet yours. For a moment, he just looked at you, like he wasn’t sure if you were real. No one has ever approached him before, well not as brazenly as this. Then, finally, he answered you back. 

"Hi….I’m Kento."

“Kento, huh.” you said, testing the name again like you were rolling it around in your head, trying to get the feel of it. After a moment, you nodded, satisfied. 

“Yeah, that’s my name.”

“That’s a good name.” You declared it with the authority of a five-year-old who had decided someone was officially worth their time.

“Your name’s okay too... I guess,” Kento replied, his tone so nonchalant it was almost teasing.

“Huh? It’s pretty!” you retorted, your hands flying to your hips, a slight pout settling on your lips. “My mom thought hard about it, you know!”

“So did mine.” Kento shot back, a flicker of mischief lighting his normally serious face. Then, in a tone that was just a little too smug, he added, “It’s a good name too.”

For a second, you just stared at him, caught off guard by the slyness in his tone. Then, to your own surprise, you burst out laughing. It wasn’t just the words that got to you—it was the way he said them, so calm and deliberate, like he was throwing you a challenge wrapped in politeness.

“You’re funny, you know that?” you decided, grinning widely.

Kento raised an eyebrow at that, his lips twitching into the barest hint of a smile. “I wasn’t trying to be.”

“Well, you are.” you said firmly, as though your opinion was final. “So, Kento, what do you wanna do? We could swing, or climb the jungle gym, or—oh! We could build a sandcastle!”

He blinked, caught off guard by your rapid-fire suggestions. “I don’t know,” he said slowly, like he wasn’t used to making decisions for playtime.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand without a second thought. “Then we’re doing the sandcastle! Come on, you’re gonna love it.”

He let you pull him along, his steps falling into rhythm with yours. “What if I don’t?” he asked, his voice so soft you almost missed the challenge in it.

“You will!” you said confidently, already imagining the crooked towers you’d build together. “Because I said so.”

Nanami Kento didn’t argue. Instead, he let out a quiet laugh, the sound so small you might’ve missed it if you weren’t paying attention. But you were paying attention, because something about this boy made you want to see every little detail he kept hidden in that quiet bubble of his.

From that moment, Kento Nanami became yours.

He knew that just as much as you did, even then.

And he was certain you were just as much his from then.

It wasn’t long into your days of playdates before you started staking your claim. You didn’t mean to—well, maybe you did. That really didn’t matter. What mattered was that you and Kento were having fun. Like the time some other kids approached while you and Kento were hard at work in the sandbox, trying to make your castle less crooked.

"Hey, kid!" one of them called, pointing at the little shovel in Kento’s hands. "Can I borrow that?"

"No way." you said firmly before Kento could even open his mouth. You shot the kid a look that clearly said back off. "We’re using it."

"But—"

"Nope. Sorry. It’s ours to play with." you cut them off, turning back to your castle as if the conversation was over. "Right, Kento?"

Kento hesitated for a second, glancing between you and the other kid, before quietly nodding. "Right."

The other kids' faces were filled with harsh looks at what you said. But you didn’t care. All they could do was huff and puff until they were blue in the face. You would never budge, not even if they wanted you too. 

You were a tough girl. And you always got what you wanted. And you wanted your new friend and his attention only on you. So you didn't care what you did. You’ll keep your friend, no matter what they want. 

Soon enough, they gave in and went to wander off. You can only smile. You didn’t feel the slightest bit bad. If anything, you had wished that they had left much sooner. 

You turned to Kento with a satisfied smile. "Good. They’d just mess it up anyway. It’s better if we play together, only us!"

Kento tilted his head, watching you with that quiet curiosity he always seemed to have. You seemed to be content about playing just by yourself, by his side. Not many kids seem to be content about wanting to do that at all.

"Why don’t you let other kids play with us?" he asked.

You looked at him like the answer should’ve been obvious. "Because you’re my friend. I found you first. That means you’re mine."

For a moment, he just stared at you.

Then, slowly, that tiny, barely-there smile returned.

"Okay." he said simply, like he didn’t mind one bit.

══════════════════

YEARS DRAGGED ON IN A FLASH FOR BOTH OF YOU. From that day forward, Nanami Kento was your shadow. Or maybe you were his—it often depended on who was asking and whose ego needed inflating at the moment.

But that was just how it was between the two of you. And you were content about how that goes. You knew he was just the same. Not because you went around declaring it (okay, maybe you did once or twice), but because your actions left no room for doubt.

The two of you were inseparable, and everyone knew it. In a way, both your parents were both glad and concerned about it. Glad that you both were in each other’s lives, nurturing and caring for each other. That means you both weren’t lonely, and you both were happily playing with each other day in and out of school.

But concerned that you weren’t letting each other find any other people in your lives and explore other friendships. But that hardly mattered to the two of you. Both of you didn’t budge. You didn’t need anyone else. If anything, you only need each other. You were both content with that. 

If there was a school project, Nanami Kento was your partner. No debates, no negotiation. You made sure of it every single time. It got to the point where teachers didn’t even bother asking anymore. By third grade, the class roster might as well have been printed with your name and his own written in bold under "Partners" for every project.

“Do you guys ever work with anyone else?” a classmate once dared to ask.

“Why would we?” you replied, looking genuinely puzzled. “He’s the best at making the physical parts.I don’t need anyone else.”

Kento, standing beside you, simply shrugged. “She’s good at explaining the messy, hard parts.” he said, so matter-of-factly it left no room for argument.

At lunch, it was no different. You always saved him a spot, waving him over like a VIP guest being ushered past the velvet rope. And no one dared sit with the two of you. Not after The Incident.

There was one time where a new kid made the mistake of sliding into the seat next to Nanami Kento before he got there. You didn’t even hesitate to act as quickly as you could. 

“Excuse me, new kid.” you said, your voice sugary sweet, but your eyes narrowing dangerously.

“What?” the kid asked, glancing up at you.

“That’s his seat.” You pointed toward Kento, who was still in the lunch line, entirely oblivious to the showdown brewing at the table.

“Seats are for everyone in the school.” the kid said, with all the defiance of someone who didn’t know better yet. “I can sit wherever I want.”

And that’s when you did it. You reached out and swatted their hand as they tried to open their milk carton. You glared at him, almost as cold as the North Pole. He gulped at your glare. You were terrifying for a middle schooler.

“Go. Somewhere. Else.” you said, every word punctuated with a glare that could have sent a grown man packing. “That’s HIS seat!”

The new kid was terrified and immediately scurried off, muttering something about "territorial weirdos." — that was another thing for the school to whisper about in their past time. But you didn’t care. 

By the time that he got out of the boy’s toilets, Nanami Kento got to the table, his spot was as clear as always, and you were already peeling the wrapper off the sandwich your mom made for him like nothing had happened.

“Thanks.” he said, sitting down without even asking why the kid from earlier was now eating on the other side of the cafeteria. He saw that of course. But he didn’t dare ask. “Thank your mom for me, about the sandwich.”

“You’re welcome.” you replied, sliding his sandwich over to him. You smiled as he opened his own lunch bag and started to pull out chocolate pudding in a tupperware. “Ohhhh, your mom thought of dessert!”

“Hm, I asked her.” Kento retorts back to you, smiling softly at your excitement. “Since you like chocolate pudding.”

“Thank your mama for me, okay?”

“Hm, I will.”

But of course, your protectiveness didn’t stop at lunch seats. If anything, you were protective of him to the point that it was already insane. If anyone so much as thought about teasing him, you were on them like a hawk. It didn’t matter if it was a stupid nickname or a poorly aimed joke. Nanami Kento wasn’t going to deal with any of it, not on your watch.

“Hey, Kento, why are you so quiet all the time?” one boy snickered during recess, his tone dripping with mockery.

Before Kento could even respond, you were already there, hands on your hips and glaring like you were ready to call down the wrath of the heavens. You glared at the kid as though he was meeting to face a thousand suns. 

“Maybe he’s quiet because he doesn’t waste time saying dumb things like you do.” you snapped, tilting your head and raising an eyebrow for maximum effect. “Stop being a weird waste of space and leave him alone, you freak!”

The boy tried to stammer something in response, but you didn’t wait to hear it. You didn’t care for what they said. Only for what Kento says. You rolled your eyes at the kid, as though he bored you and looked away. Soon enough, you turned back to Kento, your expression softening immediately. 

“Come on, Kento.” you said, grabbing his hand. “We’re going to the swings.”

Kento didn’t say much about that. But later, when that same boy made a malicious face at you from across the playground and had made a plan to chase you with a bottle of water to throw, Nanami Kento was the first to sense a threat against you.

He sighed heavily and without even looking up from his picture book muttered just loud enough for you to hear. “She’s faster than you, you know? She would wet your hair and make fun of you for it. So, I wouldn’t try it.”

The boy stayed far away after that.

And you could only giggle at what he said.

Nanami Kento knew you all too well.

But just as much as you were ready to fight Nanami Kento’s battles, he was ready to fight yours. And while you often took on challenges with the energy of a charging bull, Kento’s approach was quieter, deadlier—like a knife slipping between ribs before anyone even noticed it was there. He was just that type of kid, you think.

You first realized just how far Kento was willing to go for you one day when a group of older girls decided to target your ponytails. It wasn’t a big deal to you at first; you were used to the occasional teasing. But this time, something about their tone, or maybe the way they crowded around, everything about it had made your stomach twist.

“Why do you always look like you just rolled out of bed?” one of them sneered, her voice dripping with faux innocence.

Her friends burst into laughter, as if she’d just delivered the punchline of the century. You bristled, the words forming on your tongue to snap back. But before you could speak, Kento appeared, slipping between you and the girls like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Why do you care?” he asked, his tone calm, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

It was such a simple question, but somehow it silenced the entire group. The girl blinked at him, thrown off by his directness. Kento yawned, as though he was already bored with her. She had never expected anything from him. Kento was quiet and reserved. 

He was also popular and quite a handsome young boy that people had a crush on. Even when he didn’t talk or pay any mind to any of them. You glared at this girl, as though she was the worst of them all. She’s always been trying to take Kento from you.

“Uh, excuse me?” she said, attempting to regain her composure.

“You heard me.” Kento’s gaze was steady, his expression as unreadable as ever, but there was an edge to his voice that made it clear he wasn’t messing around. “Why do you care what she looks like? Or are you just bored?”

The giggling stopped. 

“Well, I—” The girl floundered, her cheeks turning pink. 

“She looks fine to me.” Kento interrupted smoothly, tilting his head slightly as if he were assessing them. “Better than you, anyway. I mean, those pants with that shirt? What are you thinking? Does your mom even love you if she allows you to wear something like that?”

You could’ve heard a pin drop at what he had said. You look at him, blinkingly. Before finding yourself bellowing at laughter at how blunt he had worked everything. The girls gasped, their mouths falling open in perfect synchronization. One of them muttered something about “rude boys” and then, just like that, they were gone, retreating with their tails between their legs.

You stood there, stunned, as Kento turned back to you like nothing had happened. You finally straightened yourself from your laughing form. You wiped your eyes as you turned back at him. You grinned at his words. 

“Better than her?” you repeated later as the two of you walked back to class. You were trying not to laugh, but the corners of your mouth kept twitching upward.

“It’s true. You already know that.” he said simply, not bothering to look up from the book he’d already opened, as if the whole thing hadn’t even fazed him.

“Aw, you think I’m cute, don’t you?” you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

“Don’t push it.” he replied dryly, but the tiny smirk playing at the corner of his lips betrayed him.

══════════════════

BUT OF COURSE, THIS ONLY INTENSIFIED ONCE YOU BOTH GREW OLDER. Entering this new environment, in high school — one could say nothing had ever changed. If anything, it has only grown more concrete that you and Nanami Kento, no one can separate the two of you even if they tried. 

If one were to describe how you both were, it would be like being a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Inseparable. And even when people questioned it, you turned them down just as easily. Little by little, people barely questioned it anymore. 

You had long since reached the point where your friendship was so solid that it seemed like a fact of life. If anyone tried to ask about it, the answer was already clear: You two were a package deal. And while you liked it that way, not everyone seemed to get the memo.

It didn’t take long for the attention to roll in once high school started. You were used to it by now. After all, you and Kento had always been a pair of conspicuously close friends, so naturally, people were curious. 

But this was a different kind of curiosity, the kind that came with stares and whispers behind your backs. Everyone seemed to have suddenly developed a keen interest in your best friend, and you couldn’t decide if it was because of his brooding good looks or that deep, mysterious aura he carried, but maybe, probably both.

It started with the girls, as it usually did. They would hover around Kento in class, a little too eager to engage in conversations about anything—his favorite books, his thoughts on the weather, even the random things he’d written in the margins of his notes. It didn’t matter what they brought up; they were just looking for an excuse to get a reaction out of him. 

They wanted to be the one to crack the mystery that was Nanami Kento. And of course, they expected him to open up, to smile, to laugh, to do something that would confirm they were special enough to make him forget his usual quiet, studious demeanor.

But Kento, being the stoic, no-nonsense guy he was, would respond with quiet politeness, barely even registering their presence. He would tilt his head slightly when they asked questions, look at them through the edge of his glasses, and give just enough of an answer to keep things from getting awkward.

The girls would often stare at him a little longer than necessary, hoping for a second of warmth or acknowledgment. But no matter how many times they tried, all they got was that polite, impersonal smile that didn’t reach his eyes. And it wasn’t that he didn’t care; it was just that he didn’t care about them, not in the way they wanted. 

To Nanami Kento, it was all just noise. So, he’d just keep his focus on what mattered, which was probably the latest algebra problem or his ongoing internal monologue about the best way to prepare his next snack.

Even as an emo guy with that black hoodie, messy blond hair, brooding eyes that screamed ‘don’t talk to me, but if you do, be prepared for my sarcasm’—people still flocked to him. It was almost unfair, you thought. He had this combination of boy-next-door charm and detached, almost tragic mystique that girls couldn’t resist. 

He was a pretty boy, you knew that much. You’d known him long enough to appreciate the way his eyes glinted in the sunlight, how his messy hair always looked effortlessly perfect, how he somehow made a monotone voice sound like the most hypnotic thing in the room.

And it wasn’t just the girls, either. The guys were starting to notice, too. Sure, they didn’t hover the same way, but they’d get a little too chatty when Kento was around, laughing a little too hard at his dry jokes, trying just a bit too hard to be friendly.

Everyone knew he wasn’t the type to just buddy up with anyone, and that mystery only made him more desirable. So when they’d get too close, you’d notice the slight twitch of Kento’s eyebrow, the way he’d lean just a little bit further away to make it clear that he was not interested in their company.

But the one thing you didn’t doubt was this: Kento was really polite. He never outright rejected anyone, and that politeness was a plus. Sure, it drove you a little crazy when they’d swarm him like bees to honey.

But you had to admit that his politeness was a rare commodity in a world where most people had no issue turning someone down rudely or making them feel uncomfortable. Kento didn’t do that. He’d simply nod back at people and get back to whatever it was he was doing, never making a fuss about the attention.

Well, it was better than over half the school, that’s for sure. You’d seen the way people treated each other, cold and snide, brushing off others without so much as a second thought. Kento was a rare gem in that regard. He was a gentleman, even in the face of all the attention he was getting, and that made it all the more frustrating. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want people to admire him; you just didn’t like the thought of anyone thinking they could replace you. You and Kento had this bond, a strong one, one that didn’t need words to be understood. But here was the thing—everyone else didn’t get it. And that was where the fun (and by fun, you mean sneaky sabotage) began.

After all, who else could say they knew all his little quirks? Who else had shared so many quiet lunches under that same oak tree, or been the one to force him to eat a full meal instead of staring at his book? You were his best friend, and that meant you had a certain, special claim on him, no matter how many girls wanted to make themselves part of his world.

But, like the selfless best friend you were, you’d keep that fact under wraps. No one needed to know you had a stake in him—especially when you were also the one helping him avoid the chaos of all his newfound admirers. Let them keep fighting over who could be the one to crack Kento's cold exterior; you'd be the one to keep it safe.

But that wasn’t enough. No, they wanted more. They wanted to peel back the layers, crack open that cool exterior, and find whatever hidden treasure lay beneath. And that was where you came in. That’s where you always have to come in. He was your best friend, after all.

It wasn’t that you hated the attention Kento was getting, but it was yours, wasn’t it? You didn’t want anyone to think they could just stroll up and waltz into the little bubble you and Kento had created. And you know he agreed. He doesn’t really need anyone else, he’s said that to you numerous times.

So naturally, you and Kento found creative ways to sabotage any admirer who dared to get too close. It wasn’t malicious, exactly. Well, not to you or Kento. it was more like you were just “protecting” him, and, on occasion, he did the same for you.

It started with the simple things. You'd hover near him during lunch, casually tossing your snacks at him in a way that made it obvious you didn’t want him interacting too much with anyone else. It was like a game of cat-and-mouse between the two of you. Both of you pretended you weren’t doing it, but everyone knew exactly what you were up to.

For example, when this girl from the other class named Yuki asked to sit with Kento one day during lunch time, you quickly swooped in, plopping down next to him like you were the most important thing in his world. You grinned at him and he hummed.

“Hey, Kentooooo!” you said, dropping your lunch tray in front of him. “Did you get those history notes I gave you this morning?”

Yuki opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, you continued to talk to him with a brighter grin. You nonchalantly handed your strawberry milk carton to him and he started to open it for you with the same amount of cool. 

“I was thinking of making brownies this weekend. You like chocolate, right? The ones that we used to buy at the mart? It hasn’t changed, right?” You sent her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I know it's probably too sweet, but it’s his favorite.”

Kento nodded back at you as he placed your strawberry milk carton on the side. You thanked him happily as you started to drink with happy sounds. Kento simply looked at Yuki with the politest expression he could muster and muttered back at her. 

“Sorry, I’ve got a study group with her after school. Maybe next time.”

Yuki didn’t even bother trying to argue, just nodding stiffly before retreating. You shot Kento a quick grin, but before you could say anything, he just sighed and went back to his book.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” he muttered under his breath. “Could have handled that myself.”

“But I have to. You know that.” you said with a grin, popping a piece of fruit into your mouth. “You’re my best friend, not hers.”

One day at lunch, as you and Kento sat under the shade of the old oak tree, munching on your usual snacks, a girl named Mia from your history class walked by. She glanced at Kento, then at you, then back at Kento, before finally stopping a few feet away.

"Hey, Kento!" she called, her voice way too sweet for your liking. “Mind if I join you guys?”

You didn’t even have to look up from your crackers. “Sure, but he doesn’t bite.” you said, not even looking at Mia. “I mean, I don’t think so...”

Kento, who had been engrossed in a textbook the size of a brick, glanced up at you before looking back at Mia. "I can sit alone, you know." he said, a little too casually, not even bothering to hide the fact that he didn’t care much for the attention.

Mia, undeterred, tried again. “Are you sure? I heard you like this band, too. Maybe we could—”

But before she could finish her sentence, you leaned forward, dropping a half-eaten cracker dramatically into your lap as if to make your point clear. 

"If you want to talk about music, you’re gonna have to take it up with me right now, okay?" you declared, giving her your best “this is my turf” look. "Kento here’s more into his book right now, not whatever band you think you have in common with him."

Kento blinked slowly, clearly trying to figure out why he was being pulled into this, but didn't argue. He just glanced at you and nodded, an expression you knew meant, I’m not getting involved in this one.

Mia looked between you and Kento, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Okay, fine.” she muttered before turning around and walking off, her face flushed red.

"Good job, hero," Kento muttered under his breath, voice dry.

You smirked at him. "You’re welcome, sunshine."

Of course, it wasn’t like you were the only one who was possessive. Nanami Kento hated that you were constantly getting hit on. It drove him absolutely insane. Apparently, teenage boys had this ridiculous notion that your consistent rejections made you more appealing. The more you turned them down, the more determined they became, like you were some kind of prize to be won.

Nanami Kento of course, naturally, found this logic baffling—and irritating. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you to handle yourself; he absolutely did. He hated everyone else, maybe most of all the men around him and of course — you. 

But watching those guys swarm around you, trying to impress you with their lame jokes or over-the-top compliments, made his jaw tighten and his grip on his pen just a little too firm. Oh, he hated men even more like that. And, well, Kento was never one to sit back and let something annoy him for too long. Not when it comes to you.

But of course, there are things that come as unexpected too.

Maybe it was because Nanami Kento was too perceptive.

Maybe he was just good at dissecting situations happening.

He doesn’t know how this happened, or how this came to pass.

But today would change his life for good, that was certain.

A week after one particularly bold senior cornered you after class to “ask for your number” Kento decided to return the favor—not with dramatics, of course, but with his usual understated, calm assertiveness.

You were sitting in the library, animatedly telling Kento about your latest sketch. It was a concept you were certain would win the upcoming art contest. He was actually paying attention, nodding slightly as you explained your technique, when suddenly, a guy from the senior class decided to interrupt.

“Hey, you’re the girl who draws, right?” the senior asked, leaning against the edge of the table with a grin that screamed overconfident.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… yeah, that’s me.”

“Well,” he continued, practically oozing smugness, “I was thinking, maybe you’d want to collaborate on some sketches sometime. You know, we could—”

Before he could finish whatever weak line he’d rehearsed, Kento smoothly slid into the seat beside you, his broad shoulders cutting off your view of the guy. He didn’t even spare him a glance. Instead, he turned to you, his voice calm but laced with just enough edge to make his point.

“I’m pretty sure sketching is a solitary activity.” Kento said matter-of-factly. “You know, for concentration… unless, of course, you want a distraction?”

The guy blinked, clearly caught off guard by Kento’s sudden presence. “Uh, no, I—”

Kento didn’t let him finish. “You know….” he continued, still not looking at the guy. “It’s actually better if you’re alone when you’re working. Less… interruptions.” 

He then picked up your sketchbook, flipping through it with the kind of casual indifference that somehow made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere. Your jaw dropped at what he’s done.He’s silly like this sometimes, you think to yourself. 

“Kento!” you half-laughed, half-scolded, reaching for your sketchbook. “That’s my sketchbook!”

“Yeah, I know, I know.” he replied nonchalantly, not even pretending to give it back. His attention wasn’t on your sketches anymore, though. His eyes were fixed on the poor senior, who was now fidgeting uncomfortably under Kento’s unnervingly calm stare. 

“Do you mind?” Kento said coolly. “She’s busy.”

The guy stammered something unintelligible, his confidence evaporating faster than a spilled soda in the sun. “Uh… yeah, maybe another time, I guess.” he mumbled before slinking off, clearly realizing he was no match for Nanami Kento’s level of subtle intimidation.

Once the guy was gone, you turned back to Kento, crossing your arms with a mix of exasperation and amusement. You giggled to yourself for a moment. He sighed, looking at how amused you were. It was always like this with you, getting giddy when he does things like this.

“Nice one, Kento.” you said, smirking. “You do know I could have handled that, right?”

Kento raised an eyebrow, setting your sketchbook back down and leaning back in his chair like nothing had happened. You take it back from him, giving him a small thanks. He couldn’t stop looking at you. But when you looked up again, he'd already looked away.

“Sure.” he said, his lips curling into that faint, almost-smile of his. “But it looked like you were busy… talking to him.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting his arm. “What was that even about? You’re not my bodyguard, you know.”

“I wasn’t being a bodyguard.” he replied, his tone annoyingly calm. “I was just... pointing out how distracting he was being.”

“Right, right.” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. “And that had nothing to do with you hating that he interrupted us?”

Kento didn’t answer right away, but the way his eyes flickered with quiet amusement gave him away. He never likes admitting it out loud, but he feels glad. He feels glad when he makes sure you both are alone. You were all he needed after all.

“Maybe.” he finally admitted, his voice as casual as ever. “Or maybe I just wanted to look at your sketchbook.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you talk too much.” he countered, eyes shining softly against your own.

You giggled back at him, your lips smiling beautifully at him. Beautifully more than ever before. “But you like it that way, don’t you?”

Huh, what was that? He thought to himself.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

Was that his heart beating like that just now?

For a moment, he stops and looks at you. You were unaware about what happened just now. Instead, you were back on your sketching, humming to some song you were obsessed with right now. Kento swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of how he was looking at you. He cleared his throat. 

“We should get going.” he said finally, his voice a little quieter than usual. “The library closes soon.”

You nodded, falling into step beside him as you always did. But as you walked, Kento couldn’t help sneaking a glance at you out of the corner of his eye. He’d always thought of himself as someone who was good at keeping his emotions in check, but now he wasn’t so sure.

Is this what it feels like? Kento wondered as he watched you walk off in front of him. 

He stops. He takes in the sight of you. You were laughing, hopping on the tiles one by one. The sun glows behind you like a beacon leading him to the direction of life. You nearly fell, making him jump forward. But you held your balance. 

And then you laughed. Laughed so beautifully that he doesn’t know what to do.  He could feel every fiber of him turning warm, warmer and redder than ever before. His heart beating out of rhythm again. 

Ah, shit. Kento once more thinks to himself. I’m screwed.

══════════════════

HE DOESN’T THINK TO SAY ANYTHING. How could he, when he’s scared about the outcome? But as the time flew by as fast as it could, he knew he can’t keep being a coward about it. He had to say something. He should do it soon.

It was going to come out anyway. College was looming on both your shoulders. And with that, a lot of uncertainty came. If he says something, at the very least there would be something certain, concrete as your friendship. 

The two of you sat cross-legged on the floor of Kento’s family home, a single bottle of sake between you. Neither of you had much experience with alcohol, but the thrill of being eighteen and toeing the line of rebellion was too tempting to resist.

Kento poured carefully into the mismatched cups you'd found in his cupboard, his movements precise, even in the low light.

"Cheers, cheers!" you yell with that bright eyed grin, raising your cup to him.

"To...?" he asked, his brow arching slightly, always wanting things to have a purpose.

"To us!" you said simply, eyes sparkling with mischief.

He hesitated, his breath catching in his chest, before clicking his cup against yours. "To us."

The first sip was sharp, burning its way down, but it wasn’t long before the alcohol began to work its magic with swift effectivity. You laughed more freely, leaning closer to him, and your words came faster, your thoughts unfiltered.

"You know, Kentooooo." you said, poking his shoulder with a pout. "You’re, like, ridiculously handsome, right?"

Kento froze mid-sip, his ears instantly turning as pink as your sweater. "W–what?"

"I mean it! You’re so... ugh…." you groaned, tossing your head back dramatically. "How am I supposed to focus when you look at me like that?"

"Like what?" he asked, his voice soft, betraying the nervous flutter in his chest.

"Like you’re trying not to smile, but your eyes are giving you away." you teased, your grin widening as you poked his cheek this time.

Nanami Kento could feel his heart pounding so loud he was sure you could hear it. Every word you spoke chipped away at his usual composure, and he could feel himself unraveling under the weight of your drunken admiration. In just this moment, you wholly outwit him. You make him come undone. Only you can have that effect on him. Only you. 

"You’re unbelievable, you know that?" he muttered, trying to look away, but you caught his chin, turning his face back to yours.

"Admit it already, won’t you?" you said, your voice lower now, but no less playful. "You like me. Maybe even a little too much."

Kento stared at you, the world blurring slightly around the edges, whether from the alcohol or the way you were looking at him, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to do it like this. He didn’t want to put up his hopes that you would be sober enough to know the truth. Or for you to have sober truths pouring out of your sharp grinning lips. 

"I think…" he began, his voice steady but his heart anything but.

“You think?”

"I’m falling for you. More and more. Every second."

You blinked at what had just shifted in the air, your teasing expression softening as you processed his words. Then, to his surprise, you smiled—not mischievously this time, but gently, sweetly. Full with a merry drink, you smiled.

"Good." you whispered, leaning in so close he could smell the faint sweetness of the sake on your breath. "You said really good words.”

Kento barely had time to breathe before you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, leaving his face on fire and his heart completely, utterly yours. Kento froze, the warmth of your lips lingering on his cheek like a brand. His breath hitched as your words sank into the alcohol-drenched air between you. 

“I think I’m already there.”

He stared at you, his usually composed mind now an unsteady swirl of emotions—exhilaration, disbelief, and a flicker of hesitation. Your gaze was soft, dreamy, and undeniably sincere, but the alcohol in your system clouded everything. He said it out loud. But are you sure? How could you be, with how merry the drink is in your belly?

"You don’t mean that." he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as though saying it too loud would shatter the fragile moment.

"I do. I do." you said, your expression serious despite the light flush of intoxication on your cheeks. You reached for his hand, holding it with a gentle firmness that made his heart stumble in its rhythm.

Kento's fingers curled instinctively around yours before he could stop himself, but his grip was careful, steady. "You're drunk. I just…you can’t say that drunk." he pointed out, his voice more tender than reprimanding.

You frowned, tilting your head like you were trying to understand him through the haze. "So? That doesn’t mean it’s not true."

He sighed, looking down at your joined hands. He wanted so desperately to believe you, to let his heart leap completely into your words, but his rational side, his ever-present voice of reason. It held him back.

"It matters. It matters to me." he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles absentmindedly. "If you mean it, I need to hear it when you’re sober. When you’re sure."

"But I am sure, Kento." you insisted, leaning closer, your warmth almost overwhelming him. Your free hand reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, and he felt the breath leave his lungs in a rush.

Kento shook his head, his smile faint but aching with restraint. "Not like this." he murmured. "You’ll wake up tomorrow and—"

"And what? Pretend this didn’t happen?" you interrupted, your brows knitting together. "Do you think I’d forget how much I lo—"

His hand shifted, gently pressing a single finger to your lips to quiet you, though it was more for his sake than yours. He wasn’t sure he could take it, hearing those words from you while your judgment was fogged.

"Stop. Please." he said, his voice barely steady. "Don’t say it now. Not tonight."

Your eyes searched hisfrustration flickering in their depths before softening. You saw the way his shoulders tensed, the way he looked at you like he was holding back an ocean of feelings.

"You're such a romantic, aren’t you?" you murmured, a teasing lilt to your voice as a lazy smile spread across your face.

He gave a quiet chuckle, his fingers brushing against your cheek now without realizing it. "Maybe." he admitted, his tone gentler than ever. "But I want this—want us—to start right. I’ll wait until you’re ready to tell me again."

You let out a small sigh but didn’t argue. Instead, you leaned into his touch, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as your eyelids grew heavy. You always liked this, taking in his warmth. You don’t think there was any other place you belonged in but his arms.

If you were being honest, you were afraid. He was right. Your words could mean something, and maybe it wouldn’t be as clear as his own. You were drunk. You were really drunk. And feels hazy in your head. It wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be fair to your Kento. Not like this.

"Fine." you murmured, your words slurring slightly. "But you’d better be ready for me to say it a hundred times tomorrow. Maybe a thousand."

Kento chuckled again, the sound low and warm in his chest, as he rested his chin lightly on top of your head. "I’ll be ready." he promised, even as his own heart thudded wildly at the thought. “I’m always waiting for you. Always.”

And as you drifted off, still clutching his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, Kento silently vowed to himself: when the time came, he’d tell you how deeply, how completely he felt for you too. He just needed to be sure you knew what it meant.

The morning after that night, you woke up on Kento's couch, the faint remnants of sake lingering in the air. Your head throbbed lightly, and your memories were fuzzy around the edges. Kento, ever thoughtful, had left a glass of water and some aspirin on the table beside you.

"Rough night?" he asked from the kitchen, his voice steady but carefully neutral as he busied himself making coffee.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "What did I even say last night? I barely remember anything."

He hesitated, his hand tightening briefly on the handle of the coffee pot. He looked over at you, your half-asleep face free of the weight of your drunken confessions. For a moment, he considered saying something, but the words got caught in his throat.

"Nothing too embarrassing," he said instead, forcing a faint smile.

You laughed, your cheeks reddening slightly. "Good. I’d hate to think I made a fool of myself in front of you."

Kento gave a small nod, but his heart felt heavy. You didn’t remember, and he couldn’t bring himself to remind you. Not like this. So, he lets himself break apart. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t let you have guilt. Because if he did, how is that loving you?

So Nanami Kento buried those words, locking them away where they couldn’t touch the fragile balance between you. He told himself it was better this way. But he hopes, maybe one day — just one day. You’ll see him too. Sober with your love for him.

══════════════════

THINGS DID CHANGE A BIT WHEN YOU WENT TO COLLEGE. Of course, you both got into the same university. But there’s a rough difference between not only being in different departments, but also being in different campuses. It was a rough travel back and forth. But Nanami Kento was determined to go and visit you.

You often feel a little bad when you look back on those days. Engineering classes were no joke. Too many long hours, grueling projects, and the constant pressure to keep up left you drained most of the time.

You barely had the energy to go out, even when you wanted to. But Kento never minded. He understood in the quiet, steady way that only he could, and instead of waiting for you to have time, he made sure to visit you instead.

It didn’t matter where for him. Whether it was the bustling campus lunch hall, where the two of you would share a plate of something warm while you tried to finish an assignment, or your dorm room, which was always a little messy with textbooks and half-drunk cups of coffee.

What mattered to him wasn’t the place or even what you were doing. What mattered was just being with you.

And that thought? It never fails to make your heart skip a beat. Even now, after everything, it feels just as special as it did back then. You still held dearest to him after all this time. Ever since you were kids, you were his everything. And you were sure, more than ever now, that he was yours too. In all sense of the word.

It’s been a year and a half since that time, since you confessed to Kento. Well, technically, drunk you confessed to him. It was late, and you’d had just enough to drink to make your heart bolder than your brain. You didn’t want to say a word. And you think that Kento was just as much waiting for you to say something.

You were ready to die of embarrassment when you remembered that you had said that. But then you remembered, with just as much horror and embarrassment — he’d confessed too. With that same calm sincerity, he told you he’d felt the same way for a while.

Looking back, it was a little messy, maybe even a lot embarrassing. But it was also sweet, earnest, and so perfect for you two. And honestly? You wouldn’t change a thing. You had said something that clarified things for you.

After all, that drunken confession was the start of something that would make all the challenges of those days worth it, every late-night study session, every coffee-fueled conversation, every stolen moment in between. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours.

You were falling for Kento more and more every day, and it was starting to feel like a problem. A big problem. How were you supposed to act normal around him when everything he did—from the way he fixed his tie to the way he said your name—made your heart do backflips?

It wasn’t fair, really. How was it possible that the same person who once laughed so hard he choked on a piece of rice during lunch was also the one making you reconsider your entire perception of love? He was your best friend, and now you couldn’t even look at him without overthinking every little thing.

And to make matters worse, he was visiting you today.

You had approximately 15 minutes to get your life together before Kento arrived, which was nowhere near enough time to deal with the tornado that was your dorm room or the emotional hurricane swirling inside you.

“Okay, okay, calm your tits.” you muttered to yourself, grabbing stray socks off the floor. “Just play it cool. It’s just Kento. You know him best. Real well. He’s been here a million times. No big deal. Totally normal.”

You shoved a pile of notebooks into your desk drawer, praying it wouldn’t jam, and quickly rearranged the pillows on your bed. By the time you heard the knock at your door, your dorm was passable, well barely. And you were mostly sure you didn’t look like a total disaster.

When you opened the door, there he was, Nanami Kento in all of his huge handsome stature, standing there with his usual calm demeanor, holding a bag of snacks. You yelped quietly as you looked at him. Your roommates must have let him inside. 

“Thought you might need these.” he said, giving you one of those small, knowing smiles that made your brain short-circuit.

You blinked at him. “Nanami Kento, are you a psychic?”

He raised an eyebrow. “No, but you texted me at 2 AM complaining about running out of your favorite chips, so I figured this might help. You still have some paperwork to do, right? And you won’t eat unless I come by to remind you. So, I got it.”

“Oh.” You tried to laugh, but it came out more like a nervous croak. “Right. Thanks. You’re, uh…you’re a hero.”

He stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the room. “Did a tornado hit your room? It was clean last time I came by.”

“What? No!” You crossed your arms defensively. “I cleaned! Mostly.”

Kento gave you a skeptical look before setting the bag of snacks on your desk. “If this is what ‘clean’ looks like to you, remind me never to see it messy.”

You threw a pillow at him, and he caught it effortlessly, smirking. “Careful. That’s my best throw pillow. If you damage it, I’ll charge you emotional damages.”

“Noted, little miss engineer.” he replied, setting the pillow down with exaggerated care. “What’s the rate for emotional damages these days?”

“Depends. How many snacks did you bring?”

“Enough to keep you from suing me.” He tells you with a grin. “Still have some in my car, just in case you wanted more.”

The two of you laughed, and for a moment, it felt like old times. A little bit easy, comfortable, effortless. But then, as Kento sat down on the edge of your bed, something in your chest tightened. How had this annoying, perfect, infuriatingly kind man become someone you couldn’t stop thinking about? Someone you don’t think you could live without?

He looked up at you, tilting his head slightly. “What’s with the staring? Do I have something on my face?”

“What? No!” You blinked rapidly, your cheeks heating. “I was just—uh—zoning out. Engineering stuff. Very complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Right, right.” he said, clearly unconvinced. “Because I’m definitely not the one who helped you with that last project.”

“Details, details, Nanami Kento. Don’t get bogged down in the details.”

He chuckled, and the sound was so warm and familiar that you almost forgot why you were freaking out in the first place. Almost. Kento takes a moment. He then looks at you as though examining you with careful abandon. Kento wanted to take in the sight of you, after not seeing you for a while.

“You’re weird today, do you know that?” he said, leaning back slightly. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, totally fine. Super fine.” You waved a hand dismissively. “Just tired, you know? Engineering. It’s a grind.”

Kento studied you for a moment, his expression softening. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

Your stomach flipped, and you forced a laugh. “Who, me? No way. I’m like…a professional liar. Best in the business.”

“Uh-huh.” He hums back in retort.

He didn’t press further, but the way he looked at you. Everything about his caramel gaze was gentle, understanding, like he already knew what you weren’t saying. Everything about it, everything about him made your heart squeeze.

You sighed internally. How were you supposed to handle this? You couldn’t just blurt out, “Hey, Kento, I think I’m in love with you, and it’s driving me absolutely insane!”

But as he opened the bag of snacks and handed you your favorite, you couldn’t help but think maybe, just maybe, he already knew that you knew. And that maybe he knew that you felt deeply about him. You sighed. Maybe you’re just imagining it.

As the minutes ticked by, Kento made himself right at home in your dorm, sitting cross-legged on your bed and munching on the snacks he’d brought. Meanwhile, you had plopped into your desk chair, scrolling on your phone under the pretense of “taking a break.” 

But in reality, you were desperately trying to distract yourself from the way he looked way too good just casually existing in your space. How could he look that good even as a law major? How can he have time to make your heart feel like this?

As you flicked through your social media feed, you stumbled upon a post that made your stomach twist uncomfortably. It was a picture—Kento, smiling (smiling!) with a group of classmates, apparently from earlier that day. Some of them were girls. Really pretty girls. Those really pretty preppy law girls!

Your first thought was When does Kento even smile like that? He never smiles like that around me!

Your second thought was Who’s the one leaning so close to him? Is she, like, whispering in his ear or something?

You shot a quick, subtle glance at him. He was still on your bed, completely unaware of the emotional spiral you were going through. He crunched on a chip like it was the most normal day in the world.

“Did you have fun today?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Kento raised an eyebrow. “Uh…what?”

“Today. You were with…people from your department.” you said, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

His brow furrowed toward you slightly. “I mean, yeah, I had a class project meeting. It was fine. Why?”

“Oh, no reason.” you said, voice a little too high-pitched. Fuck, you  were too obvious. You looked back at your phone, scrolling furiously to hide your face. “Just…wondering. Looked fun.”

“Wait.” Kento’s tone shifted. Suddenly you felt his gaze on you. “How do you know about that?”

Your heart dropped. “Uh, I saw it. Online. A picture. No big deal!”

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again, amusement clear in his voice. “Are you…jealous?”

“What?!” Your head whipped up so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash. “Me? Jealous? Of what? Why would I be jealous?”

Kento’s lips quivered into a rare, brat–like smirk, and you immediately knew you were in trouble. “No reason at all.” he said smoothly. “Just seems like you’re a little…interested in what I’m doing when I’m not here.”

“Interested? Pfft, no. I was just—just checking to make sure you’re not hanging out with the wrong crowd.” you stammered, flailing for a decent excuse. “You know, bad influences. Peer pressure. That sort of thing.”

“Right, I see.” he said, clearly unconvinced. “Because I’m the type to fall victim to peer pressure.”

“Well, I don’t know that part of your life right now!” you snapped, feeling your face heat up. “Maybe one of those girls was trying to…to make you join a pyramid scheme or something!”

Kento leaned back on your bed, folding his arms behind his head, clearly enjoying this far too much. “You’re terrible at hiding things, you know.”

“I’m not hiding anything!” you shot back, spinning your chair around so you didn’t have to look at him.

There was a rustle of movement, and then suddenly, he was right behind you, his hand resting lightly on the back of your chair. You could feel your ears redden at the feeling of him. You squeaked, loud enough for him to hear.

“You’re really bad at lying, too. How come you haven’t evolved at lying? It’s been years and somehow, you’re still bad at it.” he said softly, his voice just teasing enough to make your heart race.

You spun around to face him, glaring. “Okay, fine! Maybe I was a little jealous. Are you happy now?”

Kento blinked, clearly surprised by your sudden outburst. But then, to your absolute horror, he started laughing—actual, full-on laughing. He hadn’t expected for you to just come out and say it like that. You were a prideful little flower, you always have been. 

“You’re laughing at me?!” you cried, swatting at his arm.

“I’m not laughing at you, you know.” he said, still chuckling. “I just didn’t think you’d actually admit it.”

“Well, I did!” You crossed your arms, trying to look annoyed even as your face burned. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Kento’s laughter softened into a small, fond smile, and for a moment, the teasing disappeared. He didn’t know how much he missed you until now. Somehow, the world seemed like it was in proper orbit when he’s with you like this.

“Nothing, nothing.” he said, his voice low and sincere. “Because you don’t need to be jealous. If I wanted to spend my time with anyone else, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

You stared at him, your brain short-circuiting as he straightened up and walked back to the bed like he hadn’t just casually wrecked you with one sentence. You looked away, crossing your arms as though to shield yourself from him. But he could still see the redness of your ears.

“Well….” you muttered under your breath, plopping dramatically onto your desk. “Now I’m jealous of myself.”

Kento paused mid-bite of a chip and turned to you with an amused look. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” you said quickly, sitting up straight like you hadn’t just been caught having an existential crisis.

But of course, Kento being Kento, he wasn’t about to let it slide. “No, no, go ahead.” he said, his smirk returning as he leaned back against the headboard. “Explain how you’re jealous of yourself. This, I have to hear.”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Forget I said anything. It’s dumb.”

“I doubt that at all.” he replied, his tone annoyingly smug. “But fine, I’ll drop it. For now.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, only to find him watching you with a mix of amusement and something softer, something that made your heart flip all over again. You wanted to throw a pillow at him or maybe yourself—just to get rid of the growing warmth in your chest.

Instead, you grabbed the bag of chips from the desk and walked over to him, shoving it into his hands. “Here. Eat some of the snacks and stop psychoanalyzing me.”

“I wasn’t psychoanalyzing you.” he said, popping another chip into his mouth. “But you’re making it very tempting.”

“Unbelievable, Kento.” you muttered, plopping down onto the bed beside him. “This is why I can’t stand you sometimes, you know that?”

“Uh-huh.” He glanced at you, one eyebrow raised. “So much so that you admitted to being jealous of people spending time with me. Makes perfect sense.”

You huffed, grabbing a handful of chips just to give your hands something to do. “Okay, fine, you got me. I was a little jealous. Big deal. You’re my best friend. It’s normal to feel weird about you hanging out with other people, right?”

“Is it?” he asked, his voice teasing but his eyes studying you closely.

“Yes!” you said, refusing to meet his gaze. “Because we’re close. And I don’t like sharing, okay? You’ve known that since we met!”

“Hmm, hmm.” he said thoughtfully, leaning a little closer. “So what you’re saying is, you want me all to yourself?”

You choked on your chip, coughing violently as Kento sat back, looking far too pleased with himself. “You—ugh! Don’t say things like that!”

“Why not? I’m just repeating what you said to me.” he replied innocently.

“That is not what I said!”

“Sounded like it to me.”

You glared at him, your face burning. “You’re the worst.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, smiling slightly. “But I’m your worst.”

And just like that, you were done for. Completely, utterly done for. You threw a pillow at him once again. Because what else could you do to him like that? He wasn’t wrong. Sure enough, he caught it effortlessly, laughing rather softly as he set it down beside him.

“Stop overthinking about it.” he said after a moment, his tone quieter now. “I’m here because I want to be. No one else matters, okay?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in his voice. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” he said simply, reaching into the chip bag again like he hadn’t just made your heart implode for the second time that evening.

And you sat there, staring at him like an idiot, thinking that maybe, just maybe, falling for him wasn’t the worst thing in the world after all.

══════════════════

IT WAS ONE OF THE RARE OPPORTUNITIES WHERE YOU HAD A DAY OFF. So of course, you took the time to call Kento and ask him to hang out with you. And as usual, all he had said was that short, sure yes and nothing more.

He’d pick you up in thirty minutes, like usual. And of course, Nanami Kento was never late. If anything, he was always ten minutes early. He couldn’t have you waiting, after all.

The bar was warm and lively, filled with the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. You and Kento had decided to spend your day off together, and while the original plan had been something low-key like a café or a bookstore, somehow you’d ended up here, nursing a drink and trying to act normal around him. 

He’d never been here before, but he saw it from across the road and if the cafe or bookstore was closed — an afternoon at a bar wasn’t going to be a bad idea for college kids wanting to have some adventure beyond the campus walls.

Normal. Just normal. Yeah, act like you do. Well, whatever normal looks like to you now.

You could only mentally sigh as your peripheral was only stuck on him more than usual.

As if that was possible when you were utterly, hopelessly in love with the man sitting across from you.

Kento, of course, looked effortlessly composed, like he always did—leaning back in his seat, one hand resting on the table, the other holding his drink. He wasn’t a flashy guy, but there was something about the way he carried himself that made it impossible not to stare. And you were staring. Again.

“You’re staring at me again.” he said, his voice calm but with a hint of amusement.

“I am not!” you shot back, quickly taking a sip of your drink to cover up your flustered state.

“You’ve been doing it all evening.” he continued, raising an eyebrow. “Is there something on my face?”

“No, no.” you muttered, feeling the heat creep up your neck. “I was just…zoning out. Thinking about…stuff.”

“Stuff. You sure….about stuff as an excuse?” he repeated, his tone skeptical.

“Yes, stuff.” you said firmly, glaring at him. “You wouldn’t understand.”

He chuckled softly, and you were both annoyed and utterly charmed by the sound. Why did he have to be so effortlessly perfect? It wasn’t fair. You hated how good he is at being everything you love. As you tried to regain your composure, a voice interrupted your thoughts. 

“Hey there, sweetie–pie.” a man said, sliding up to your table with a confident grin. “Mind if I join you?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh…”

Before you could say anything else, the man pulled up a chair and sat down, clearly not waiting for permission. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed on you. You felt disgusted by the way he looked at you. He wasn’t your type at all. And moreover, he’s creepy as hell.

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the room.” he said smoothly. “You’ve got a great smile.”

“Um, thanks?” you said awkwardly, glancing at Kento.

Kento’s expression didn’t change much, but there was a subtle shift in his posture. He sat up a little straighter, his jaw tightening just slightly. Kento’s eyes were glaring hard enough that you could find those eyes were blades cutting you whole.

“So, what’s your name?” the guy asked, ignoring Kento entirely.

You opened your mouth to answer, but Kento beat you to it. 

“She’s not interested in you.” he said flatly, his voice calm but with an edge that made the guy pause.

The man glanced at Kento, raising an eyebrow. “And you are?”

“Person she’s with.” Kento replied smoothly, though his tone made it clear that he wasn’t just a friend. “Who also happens to know she’s too polite to tell you to leave, so I’ll do it for her. What else are you waiting for? Leave.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Was Kento…jealous?

The man hesitated for a moment, clearly debating whether to push back, but something about Kento’s steady gaze seemed to make him think twice. With a shrug, he stood up. He wasn’t going to get anything out of you. Lest he wants to get bitten by a tiger waiting to eat him. Well, at least he’s smart about that.

“Alright, alright. No need to get territorial.” He winked at you before walking away.

You shuddered at his wink.

Have men always been weird?

You shake it off quickly, drinking your pint.

You turned to Kento, your cheeks burning. “Territorial? Really?”

Kento shrugged, taking a sip of his drink like nothing had happened. “He was bothering you. I handled it.”

“I could’ve handled it myself, you know.” you said, crossing your arms.

“I’m sure you could’ve.” he replied, setting his glass down. “But I didn’t feel like watching you pretend to be polite to someone who clearly couldn’t take a hint.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe.” he said, a small smirk playing on his lips. “But at least you don’t have to deal with him anymore.”

You huffed, turning back to your drink. But as you took a sip, you couldn’t help but notice the way Kento’s gaze lingered on you, softer now, like he was trying to gauge your reaction. You drink your pint once again in some somber silence. 

“Was that really necessary?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Yes.” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You glanced at him, your heart doing that stupid fluttering thing again. “Why?”

Kento held your gaze for a long moment before replying. “Because I don’t like the idea of anyone else thinking they can have what’s mine.”

Your brain short-circuited. “W-what?”

He didn’t elaborate, just leaned back in his chair with that same calm composure, as if he hadn’t just wrecked your entire evening with one casual sentence. You stared at him, utterly flustered and more in love than ever, wondering how on earth you were supposed to survive the rest of the night without completely losing your mind.

For the rest of the night, Kento didn’t let you out of his sight. He was subtle about it at first—the way he leaned in whenever someone walked by, his hand resting casually on the back of your chair. But as the minutes passed, it became glaringly obvious: Kento was on high alert, and every glance from a stranger only made his protective aura grow stronger.

When a group of guys walked by your table and one dared to look at you a second too long, Kento’s hand dropped from the chair to your shoulder, the weight of it warm and grounding. He didn’t even glance at the guy, his focus entirely on you, but the message was clear: Don’t even try it. Back off.

You tried to act normal, but it was impossible. Sitting beside him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, you were acutely aware of every little thing about him—the way his sleeves were rolled up just enough to show his forearms, the way his voice dropped into a lower register whenever he spoke to you.

“You’re quiet again.” he said, his voice low as he leaned a fraction closer.

“I’m fine, Kento. Really.” you mumbled, staring into your drink to avoid looking at him.

“Liar.” he murmured, his tone edged with amusement. “You’ve been squirming all night.”

“I have not!” you protested, but the way your voice cracked didn’t help your case.

Kento just smirked, and that was the last straw. You stood abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Not alone, you’re not.” he said immediately, rising from his seat with an ease that made you want to throw something.

“What, are you my bodyguard now?” you snapped, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened at his possessive tone.

“If that’s what it takes, then yes.” he said simply, his gaze steady and unyielding.

Before you could argue, he took your hand—firm, unrelenting—and led you toward the exit.

“Kento, the bathroom’s that way.” you pointed out, trying to tug your hand free.

“We’re leaving.” he said without looking back.

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Because I’m done watching people think they can look at you like you’re up for grabs.” he said, his voice calm but with an edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your protests died in your throat. Nanami Kento rarely raised his voice or lost his composure, but there was something in his tone now. It was something raw and unmistakable. And every bit of it just left you speechless.

The car ride was silent, tension thick in the air. When he pulled into a quiet, empty lot, he turned off the engine and finally looked at you. His gaze was dark, intense, and it sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“Kento, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You.” he said, his tone low and rough. “You’re what’s going on. Do you have any idea how hard it is to sit there and pretend I’m okay with watching other people look at you like they have a chance?”

Your breath hitched. “I… I didn’t think you—”

“Didn’t think I’d care?” he interrupted, leaning closer. “Didn’t think I’d notice? God, you drive me insane, you know that?”

“Kento…”

“You’re mine.” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You’ve always been mine. You always have been since we were kids. I just didn’t want to scare you off by saying it out loud again.”

Your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “I— I….I know.” you admitted, your voice trembling. “But I thought you wouldn’t say it again and I just…maybe with time passing… I thought I was the only one now.”

His lips curled into a dark, almost predatory smile. “You’re not. Never. Not when I’ve marked you since we met at that playground when we were kids.”

Before you could process his words, Kento leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was animalistic, it was wanton. It was full of possessiveness, claiming, as if he were branding the truth into you.

You matched his intensity, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as you pulled him closer. The kiss deepened, and any hesitation you’d felt earlier melted away, replaced by a burning need that had been building for far too long.

He broke away just long enough to murmur against your lips, “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” you whispered, your voice shaky but resolute.

“You belong with me.”

You looked at him with your doe like eyes. “I belong with you.”

“Good.” he growled, pulling you into his lap without hesitation. His hands gripped your waist firmly, his touch both grounding and electrifying. “Because I’m done holding back.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face as you whispered, “Then don’t.”

And he didn’t.

══════════════════

YOU DIDN’T EXPECT HIM TO BE THIS HUNGRY FOR YOU. But with the way he’s going at it. Kento has been hungry for you for a very long time. Kento’s lips linger, soft and insistent, as if savoring every inch of your skin.

The warmth of his breath trails higher, leaving behind a delicate ache where his mouth was. His hands rest firmly on your thighs, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch.

“You’re trembling.” he murmurs, his voice a rich baritone, teasing but laced with tenderness. He looks up, his gaze heavy with desire, his lips brushing against your inner thigh as he speaks. “Do I make you nervous?”

A shaky laugh escapes your lips, betraying your composure. “Not nervous... just—” Your words cut off as he presses another kiss, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

“Just what?” he asks, his tone low and deliberate, his lips curving into a smile against your skin. His hands slide upward, thumbs drawing small circles that make your heart race.

“Kento.” you breathe his name like a plea, your voice catching as he moves closer, the space between you charged with electricity.

The dim glow of the streetlamp filters through the windshield, casting golden lines across his sharp features. The intimacy of the confined space amplifies every touch, every sound between the two of you in these leather seats. The soft rustle of fabric, the quiet hum of his breathing, the slap of flesh against flesh.

“I love when you say my name like that, you know?” he says, voice dark and velvety. His mouth moves with purpose now, leaving faint marks of love on your skin, each one deliberate, each one staking his claim. “I love hearing it like that. Wanton f’r me.”

You gasp, your head falling back against the car seat, fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently. He groans at the sensation, the sound sending heat coursing through you. How has he ever been this good at getting under your skin?

“I want to hear more from you.” he murmurs against your skin, his voice a mix of command and yearning. His lips hover for a moment, teasing you with their proximity. “But only if you’re ready.”

Kento’s lips trail higher, each kiss softer yet more possessive, leaving warmth that lingers long after his mouth moves on. He pauses for a moment, his breath hot against your skin as his hands tighten slightly on your thighs, his thumbs stroking slow, deliberate circles.

“Don’t hold back your noises from me, okay?” he murmurs, his voice a sultry whisper that sends a shiver racing through you. He looks up, his golden-brown eyes locking with yours, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I want to hear you clearly.”

The command in his tone makes your pulse quicken. You bite your lip, but the sound escapes anyway, a soft, breathy whimper that only seems to spur him on. Kento’s touch made you feel as though a thousand flames were burning all at once.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” he says, his voice thick with satisfaction. His teeth graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and he chuckles darkly when your hips shift involuntarily toward him.

“Kento.” you gasp, your voice trembling with both restraint and longing.

“Hm?” he hums against your skin, the vibration sending a jolt straight through you. “I told you—no holding back.” 

His hands glide upward, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of your thighs, anchoring you in place as his mouth continues its slow, maddening journey lower and lower. You could feel your lips mutter a weak groan against him. 

The dim light of the streetlamp catches the sheen of his messy blond hair, illuminating the faint smile on his lips as he drinks in every reaction you give him. The intimacy of the moment wraps around you both, the world outside the car fading entirely.

“Kento, please.” you whisper, your voice raw with need, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He pauses, his lips hovering just above your skin, his breath ghosting over you. He takes in the sight of you, almost as though a hunter to a prey. Nanami Kento is your hunter, he always has been. And he’s been keeping this inside him for way too long. This desire, for you. Only you.

“That’s what I wanted to hear from you.” he murmurs, his tone dark and full of promise, before pressing another kiss, softer this time, but no less consuming.

Kento’s words hang in the air, thick with authority and desire, as his lips return to your skin with renewed purpose. He’s slow, methodical, as if every kiss, every graze of his teeth is a language only he can speak—and you’re utterly fluent in his meaning.

“Such sweet sounds from you, hm?” he murmurs against your thigh, the deep timbre of his voice reverberating through you. “Don’t hold them back from me. Let me hear what I do to you.”

Your breath hitches, a soft moan slipping past your lips, and the way his lips curl into a grin tells you he’s satisfied—but not done. His hands are firm but gentle as they slide further up your inner thighs, fingers brushing dangerously close to where you want him most. 

His touch sets your skin alight, the heat pooling low in your stomach as your chest rises and falls in uneven rhythm. You could feel his long fingers making their journey to that space, their cool touch melting you whole in a pleasurable moan.

“Kento.” you whisper, barely able to find your voice, your hands trembling as they clutch at the seat beneath you.

He glances up, his caramel eyes catching the faint glow of the streetlight streaming through the windshield, giving him an almost otherworldly allure. His gaze is dark, hungry, but there’s a softness there too. There was that endless reverence in the way he looks at you, as though you’re something precious.

“Yes, my love?” he asks, his voice laced with feigned innocence, though the smirk pulling at his lips betrays him. Your heart drummed at your new nickname from him. It was real. You were lovers. Doing what lovers do. “Tell me what you need. I want to hear it.”

You let out a shaky exhale, your fingers threading into the lower depths of sandy blond undercut for stability as much as desperation. Slowly, it trailed down on his neck, your touch sleuthing through him. Temptingly, almost like a wanting vixen.

“I need you… closer.” you admit, voice breaking, the vulnerability of the words making heat rise to your cheeks.

Kento hums in approval, the sound low and pleased at your words. He leans closer and his fingers echo deeper and deeper into you. Your head throws back hard against the leather’s pristine touch. He playfully moves inside. One moment in a circle. One moment a thrust. Over and over again, rinse and repeat, force and pleasure. And all you could do was surrender.

“Good girl of mine, my love.” he murmurs, his praise sending a wave of warmth coursing through you. 

That had surely made you even more wet inside. His lips press higher against your jaw, his stubble grazing your sensitive skin, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. He continues on and on. You don’t know where he learned it. How he got so good at knowing how to take you to paradise. BUt you could hardly care. You were focused on how deep his fingers were in you. 

“You’re so beautiful like this, my love.” he continues, his voice velvet against the charged air. His hands grip your thighs tighter, pulling them apart just enough for him to settle more firmly between them. “Completely undone for me.”

A sound escapes you, part moan, part plea, and his response is immediate. There was a broken groan deep in his chest as he nuzzled against you, the vibrations of his voice making your whole body tremble and shake as  he rushed more and more, in and out, with his masterful fingers.

“That’s it. Go on, my love.” he breathes, his voice dark, dripping with satisfaction. “Just let go for me, honey. No one else is here. Just us. Just me and the way you fall apart under my touch.”

The world outside the car feels impossibly distant now. The soft flicker of the streetlamp, the faint hum of passing cars. It’s all drowned out by the thrum of your heartbeat and the way Kento’s lips, and his fingers worship every part of you they touch, in and out.

“Kento, Kento.” you gasp again, your voice a desperate whisper.

His name on your lips seems to be his motivation, pushing more and more as his fingers tighten inside of you as he shifts closer, his movements becoming more deliberate, more consuming. You could only feel your tears rush in pleasurable waterfalls on your cheek.

“Say it again, my love.” he demands softly, his lips grazing the edge of your hip. “Say my name like that again.”

And when you do, your voice trembling and raw, and broken — he lets out a sound that’s pure need, his control slipping as he loses himself in you entirely. His fingers dug deeper and deeper until they couldn’t anymore. Your slick brushing through his fingers as he repeats it over and over again.

Kento’s name spills from your lips again, breathless and aching, and he growls softly against your skin. There was a sound that sent a ripple of heat straight to your core. You cry out loudly as you come undone on his touch, so hard that you see stars. 

“You’re trembling so much, my love.” he murmurs, his voice molten and rich. “Is it because of me, hm?”

His fingers slowly exit through your crevices, slick and full of you. He looks satisfied with the mess he made of you. It doesn’t matter if you pool your pleasure on his leather seats. The sight was satisfying to look at. Because you’re his. And this was proof.

Your answer is a shaky exhale, your head falling back against the seat as your hazy gaze saw him slowly eat at the slick of your pleasure. You had just come undone from his touch and now you could feel yourself wanting more. You were wanton for more. Only he could make you feel this way.

“Words in full, my love.” he coaxes, his tone teasing but firm. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes, Kento.” you admit, voice breaking as you finally surrender to his command. “It’s you—only you.It’s always been you.”

And with that, he kisses you as he finds himself wanting more of you, as much as you wanted more of him. You gave him everything, and he gave you everything. You wanted to be whole, consumed by the existence of the other.

The air thickens with desire as his touch shifts from lingering to deliberate, the rhythm between you growing more urgent.  You brace yourself, your body trembling in anticipation, and then, with a careful, controlled movement, he enters you. 

A sharp inhale catches in your throat, the sensation overwhelming as he fills you completely. You gasp, every inch of him stretching you, pushing you to the edge of something deeper, something more consuming. Your body trembles in the wholeness of him. 

He began to move at a slow pace and then soon enough, with that eager speed. Your legs crossed against his back, and your arms crossed against his shoulders. You could only hold on for dear life as he pushes in and out of you in a pace that took your breath away.

Every inch of him stretches you, each motion slow yet intentional, designed to leave you breathless, wanting more. Kento’s gaze never leaves yours, intense and searching, as though he’s reading the unspoken desires written in the way your body responds. The heat between you builds steadily, a slow burn that makes your pulse quicken, your limbs aching with the need to surrender to him entirely.

Everything felt so good.

He made you feel good.

Only he could do it like this.

"Are you okay?" His voice is low, almost reverent, as he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. 

There’s a softness in his caramel eyes, a tenderness beneath the storm of desire that mirrors the vulnerability you feel. His breath is heavy, and yet there’s a careful concern in his touch, as if he's trying to read you, to make sure you're ready for what comes next.

You nod, but words fail you, the overwhelming sensations clouding your ability to speak. Every inch of your being is attuned to him now, to the heat of his body against yours, the steady rhythm of his breathing. 

You inhale deeply, trying to steady yourself, yet all that fills your senses is him. The scent of him, the taste of his skin, the press of his chest against yours. Your slick blending against his own. It was all consuming. How you both fit together. How you were made for each other.

"More, Kento." you whisper, the word barely audible but laced with desperation. It’s not just a plea. No, you were saying it as it is. “Faster.”

You needed him. Every bit of him, every part of him. You wanted it all. The craving in your voice is clear, raw, and unfiltered. The desire that had been simmering between you both is now an undeniable force, impossible to resist.

His lips curl into a small, knowing smile, and something in his gaze shifts, darkens. Without breaking eye contact, he presses forward again, moving with an intensity that speaks of his own growing hunger. His movements are deliberate and calculated, even with the speed he was going at. 

It was as if  he was savoring every inch, every moment with you. Each stroke is measured, calculated, and yet there's an undercurrent of urgency, as though he's trying to pull you deeper into him, deeper into this shared space where only the two of you exist.

His gaze is intense, a silent communication passing between you both. It's not just about the way he moves or the way he touches you. Everything about it felt like magic. It's how he reads every subtle shift in your body, every small intake of breath, every whisper of need. 

He’s attuned to you in a way that goes beyond words, understanding the unspoken pleas you can't voice. It’s like he knows you better than you do yourself. It’s like he’s memorized every part of you. He just knew how to love you whole, completely.

You cried out as he hit that pleasure spot, in and out. The car windows were fogging up with the hot breath echoing out of your lips over and over again. You were certain that just as much, people had noticed the car shaking and rearing with activity at the stop. It was too obvious to see.

The heat between you builds steadily, a slow burn that makes your pulse race, that quickens the rhythm of your heart. You feel it in the way your body responds, how the pressure inside you grows with every shift, every stroke, until it feels like the world is narrowing down to just the two of you. You both were lost in this rhythm of connection, of craving, of surrender. This was all that there was, this universe of you, together.

Your body aches with the need to give in completely, to let him take you fully, to become lost in the feeling of him, of the shared moment. He looked at you and leaned forward, letting his lips take yours. His tongue pushes through against your own in a delicious melee of pleasure. You hummed against his lips as his thrusts got deeper, faster. More desperate. 

When he parts from you to gather air in his lungs, he slows for a bit and pulls out, earning a whine. But then in a steady shock, he pushes back in, his hands straying to your back, pulling you closer to him. It was as though he wanted you to melt and blend with his flesh. To become one. He thrusts deeper and deeper, harsher than before. You cry out against his ear. 

"Let go, my love." he murmurs, his voice a low, breathy whisper against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "I’ve got you." 

There’s an assurance in his words, a promise that you can surrender, that he’ll be there to catch you, to guide you through whatever comes next. And with those words, everything inside you snaps. The tension, the anticipation, the desire. 

Everything unravels in a wave of release, a deep, consuming surrender. You cry out so loud that you think that you were gasping for air for the first time. Nanami Kento hit on your body with a harsh desire last time and felt his own hot pleasure flow through you with a loud roar.

Your body trembles beneath his touch as you lose yourself in him, the rhythm of his movements pulling you deeper into the moment, into the raw intensity of it all. Your grip on him tightens involuntarily, fingers digging into the hardness of his skin, anchoring yourself to the sensation of him. 

Each breath comes quicker, more erratic, as you struggle to keep up with the waves of pleasure crashing over you. Your eyes flutter closed, and a few tears escape, blurring your vision. But the tears are not from pain. They are from the overwhelming satisfaction, the complete surrender of everything you’d been holding back.

For a moment, you can’t see anything, your body entirely consumed by the sensations coursing through you. It’s like you’ve been plunged into a haze, where nothing exists but the pulse of his touch, the heat of his body against yours. You feel your senses heighten, every movement, every sound reverberating inside you, making your heart race.

And then, slowly, your sight begins to return. Everything is foggy, distorted at first, the edges of the world softened by the force of your pleasure. But as the fog clears, everything sharpens, every detail comes into focus. 

And in that moment, it feels like you’ve stepped into something infinite. The universe itself is laid bare before you, and standing at the center of it all, consumed by the same overwhelming force, is him. Everything felt like enlightenment. Life started here.

Kento’s eyes are locked onto yours, dark and intense, holding you captive with every glance, every word unspoken. His face, usually so composed, is now etched with a mixture of hunger and satisfaction, his own breath coming in ragged pulls. You are drawn to him, to the way he fills every corner of your mind, your heart, your body.

"You're... breathtaking, my love." he murmurs, his voice rough, barely audible as he moves against you, his hands cradling your face gently. "So beautiful, at this moment."

The words make your heart ache, the vulnerability in his tone striking you deeply. Your gaze never wavers from his, even as the pleasure inside you begins to coil again, threatening to pull you under once more. It’s not just his touch, not just the way he moves inside you. It’s the way he sees you, the way he makes you feel like you’re the only one who matters in the world.

"You’re mine. You always will be." you whisper, your voice trembling with the truth of it. The words come from somewhere deep, primal, raw. You don’t even know where they’ve come from, only that they’re true. 

“Am I really?” He snickers, pecking at your jaw with small peppering kisses with exhaustion.

You nodded shyly, smiling at him. "I need you... like this. Always."

Kento smiles at your confession. His grip tightens around you, his lips pressing against your forehead in a soft kiss, almost reverent. For a moment, it was like he’d fallen in love with you again for the very first time again.

"And you have me, my love." he responds, his voice low and full of promise. "All of me. Always."

[i2sunric]

MON AMOUR (p.sh)

pairing: husband!sunghoon x reader (f)

summary: after a tiring day spent following your twin children and doing the chores, what could be better than letting your husband take care of you?

warnings: fluff & smut. unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), they have a daughter and a son, creampie, p in v, dirty talk, meandom!hoon, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, making out, kissing, cuddling. lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

wc: 3.1k

published: 20th May 2024

taglist: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @heelvsted @jwnghyuns @seunghancore @bangtancultsposts (one shot) @slut4hee @love13tter @deobitifull @xiaoderrrr @cha0thicpisces @minjaexvz @crimnalseung @skylaly @ensaz008

a/n: based on this ask from anon. hope you don’t mind i changed it a little bit <3 i just love imagining how enha would call their kids (like, in heeseung’s fic, jia 😭😭)

“I want the pink toothbrush!” Your daughter shouted with her high pitched voice, pointing at the toothbrush of the respective colour.

“Alright.” You smiled and handed it to her, “Here you go, Haneul.” 

“And you?” You looked at Haneul’s twin brother, smiling ever so sweetly “I want green.” Yohan answered, his chubby finger pointing at the toothbrush. 

You removed it from the wrapping and handed it to him “Now, brush your teeth, I want them all clean, alright?” 

Both of them nodded and you started filling in the laundry, programming it to function for that night. Spring coming with its perfect weather for the twins to play outside, it also meant your laundry had to work overtime with the amount of mud they get on their clothes.

Turning around, you noticed them arguing over the toothpaste. You shook your head and took it out of Haneul’s hand before she could make a mess and put a little bit on it on both of their toothbrushes. 

Patrolling so that they wouldn’t argue over something silly again, you helped them in their pyjamas and tugged their covers.

With one kiss on each of their foreheads, you whispered “Good night.” And exited their room, hoping none of them woke up for the whole night.

You rested your back against the door, rubbing your temples with a soft sigh. You loved the twins, you had never wished for something as wonderful as them— But it was draining to follow them the whole day and also do all the chores. 

You tried your best not to let it show, Sunghoon surely had it worse, waking up at dawn and coming back later than sunset. It must be so exhausting you didn’t have the heart to complain about your own tiredness.

You walked to the bedroom, opening the door just to widen your eyes when you saw Sunghoon’s figure, removing his blazer meaning he had just come home. 

You smiled “Hey.” You said, closing the door behind your back. 

He raises his eyebrows at the sight of you. “Hey pretty,” Sunghoon murmured, his eyes trailing along the length of your body.

He threw his jacket on the edge of the chair sitting over by his desk, his eyes not leaving you for a moment.

“You’re back.” You stated, fighting the urge not to add a ‘finally’ and walked towards him, taking the jacket to fold it better.

He watched as your fingers nimbly folded the jacket, a soft smile appearing on his tired face. 

Sunghoon felt the stress of the day slowly disappear from him when he looked at you. He reached out and took the jacket from your hand, setting it down before pulling you close to him.

“I couldn't stay away from you three any longer.” He mumbled, pressing a soft kiss upon your lips.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, tilting your head “They kept asking about you.” 

A small laugh escaped his lips and he tightened his arms around your waist in return, “Did they really?” It was rhetorical since he already knew the answer. 

He hadn’t been home early enough to see them for days due to his work and he couldn’t help but feel guilty at the fact. Sunghoon knew that he needed to spend more time at home, with you and his little daughter and son.

You hummed, resting your head on his chest with a small sigh. You had missed the way your bodies mended together, just so perfect for each other.

His warm embrace always made your day better, no batter what hardship you had encountered— He just knew what made you happy.

Noticing that you weren’t saying much as usual, where you would tell him all the things that happened through the day, Sunghoon gently cupped the back of your head, his fingers brushing your hair out of your face.

“You ok, love?” He asked softly, tilting your head up so he could look at you, his eyes scanning your face to search for any sign of discomfort.

“I’m sorry,” You shook your head “I’m just tired.” You gave him a small smile, not wanting to worry him much. 

He nodded, understanding that you were going through a lot as well, “Don’t apologise,” Sunghoon mumbled, before pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I think we could both benefit from being in bed right now,” He teased lightly, a smirk appearing on his lips “You worked so hard, even ironed all my blazers.”

“Yeah but you take a shower first.” You pointed a threatening finger in his chest “I just changed the sheets.” 

Sunghoon chuckled lowly, “Then come join me,” He winked, gently squeezing your hip as he stepped back towards the bathroom, not letting you take a moment to respond that he was dragging you with him. 

“Hoon…” You murmured, looking back anxiously, despite the bathroom being private, they still might hear you “We need to be quiet.” 

Sunghoon looked over at you with a cocky smile, unbuttoning his shirt slowly “You know I’ll try my hardest.”

You narrowed your eyes “You never do.” 

He smirked back at you as he dropped his shirt to the floor, “You love it though,” He quipped teasingly, watching you as you stood there, watching him unabashedly.

You crossed your arms “The twins might hear us, I’m not sure they’re asleep yet.” 

“I’m sure they are.” He commented, stepping closer to you and pulling you flush to him once again.

“Besides, it’s you who needs to keep quiet, baby.” He mumbled softly as he leaned down to press a trail of kisses along the side of your neck.

You let out a contented sigh, tilting your head back to give him more access.

His hands slipped under the shirt you were wearing, his fingers gliding over the bare skin of your stomach.

Sunghoon pushed you against the counter, his teeth nibbling your collarbone, leaving small, red marks.

His hands squeezing your hips gently to keep you in place.

He was desperate to have you close again after being so busy for days and his body was missing you.

You let your hands wander all over his bare chest, feeling his shaped muscles. The feeling of your hands all over him made him eager and desperate to touch you as well. 

He quickly grabbed the hem of your shirt, bringing it over your head before tossing it to the side. 

Sunghoon let out a small groan when he noticed you weren’t wearing any bra. His hands found your breasts right away, groping them.

You attached your lips to him and as the kiss deepened, his hands started trailing down to your hips once again, his fingers digging into the flesh. 

Sunghoon pulled you even closer, moaning lowly into the kiss as he grinded against you, his desire for friction evident against your body.

You let out a shaky breath and trailed your hand down to palm his clothed bulge. 

His breath hitched and his forehead rested against yours, looking into your eyes as you palmed him. 

His lust-filled gaze locked with your own and his hand moved to grab yours, gently pulling it away.

Sunghoon had a smirk on his lips as he brought your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss on the inside of your wrist. “Not yet, love.”

You looked at him puzzled “Why not?”

“I want to take my time with you tonight,” Sunghoon spoke gently, his eyes burning into yours. 

One of his hands lifted to move strands of your hair and place it behind your ear. “Just because I haven't been home much doesn’t mean I’ve lost any of my skills. Just relax.” He reassured you, wiggling his thick brows.

“Yeah?” You chuckled “How about you show me?”

Sunghoon’s lips stretched up into a mischievous smirk, pulling the elastic from your hair and letting your hair fall down your shoulders.

He pushed his knee up between your legs, his smirk widening at the small gasp he managed to pry from your lips ”That's exactly what I plan on doing,” He replied.

His knee rubbed up against your heat, applying light pressure every now and then just to tease you. He could feel how hot and desperate you were becoming.

When you felt something sharp on your shoulder, you gasped “Sunghoon… No marks.”

He grinned against your skin, “But you love it when I mark you,” He purred into your ear. 

You lightly hit his shoulder “Still, it’s difficult to hide them.”

Sunghoonleaned closer so his lips hovered over yours, the two of you sharing the same breath and exhales.

”I don't want you to hide them, love,” His eyes burning with desire as he looked down at your body. “I want you to wear my marks with pride.”

You nagged “How will I explain to the twins where these marks come from?”

A low chuckle left his lips as he let his head drop down to your shoulder, his nose rubbing against your skin. 

“They’re too young to know,” He mumbled against your neck, “And these are for my eyes only anyways.”

You rolled your eyes at his shameless he was “You’re incredible.”

Sunghoon’s other hand moved to hold your chin gently so you’d look at him, his dark eyes boring into yours.

His leg moved up again, pressing harder and rubbing up against the sensitive spot he knew you’d moan at. 

“Hoon…” You murmured, unable to grind your hips on his thigh with the way he was holding you.

 “Do you know how much I missed this?” He breathed out, his fingers gently caressing your cheek before pulling your face closer to his, his mouth hovering just over yours.

“As much as I did.” You replied and made your lips crash back together, your tongues dancing the ballad of love.

“Please..” You pleaded, feeling your body burn in desire “Sunghoon, please.” 

“Please what, pretty?” Sunghoon asked mockingly, knowing exactly what it was that you wanted, but not giving it to you just yet.

“Stop teasing.” You said desperately “Stop teasing you say?” He grinned, “And just give you what you want?” He murmured before pressing a gentle kiss on the shell of your ear.

“Not tonight, baby. Tonight I want you to take what you’re given and you’ll be grateful for everything I do to you.”

Your body shuddered at his words, just the thought of finally being able to be his all over again made slick pool your panties. You nodded obediently, his husky tone just fuelling your desire.

 “Good girl,” Sunghoon mumbled softly, his hand reaching out to gently pull you forward.

“C'mon, you deserve to unwind after dealing with our babies all by yourself,” He reassured with a warm smile, leading you towards the bedroom.

You walked beside him and laid down on the bed, all bare except for the shorts you were still wearing. You looked up at him with utter lust, your nipples hardening at the sight of his huge bulge poking through his working pants. 

Sunghoon noticed it and massaged your breasts, licking his bottom lip.

Your breath was heavy, your eyes piercing through his body and your pussy aching for his cock.

“I need you.” You whispered “Yeah? Need me that bad?” You nodded, rubbing your thighs together.

Such a sight made his cock twitch in his pants, the fabric becoming more and more tight “Can’t wait anymore, mh?” He said and reached for your pants.

“Lift your hips for me.” He said and you complied, helping him remove them. 

Sunghoon held his body above you, his hands on either side of your head to prevent himself from crushing you. 

His tongue quickly slipped into your mouth once again as he relished in the taste he’d missed so badly.

“I’m going to fuck you,” He kissed your lips, unzipping his pants “I’m going to fuck you so good, put another baby in you.”

He groaned at the memory of your swollen belly, carrying not one but two of his children. The idea of having a third one went straight to his cock.

“Knock me up.” You said, blissful euphoria clouding your senses.

Sunghoon pulled down his boxers and pants, his cock sprung free, angry and pulsating. 

Your hand went down to pump it, wanting to provide him some kind of relief.

He let out a moan, bucking his hips to fuck your fist “Do you want me to prep you?” He asked. 

“No, just fuck me.” You said, impatiently, “Make me yours.”

You didn’t need to say more, Sunghoon pulled your hand away to align himself to your entrance after slipping your panties to the side and then pushed his thick tip inside of you. 

“So wet already.” You moaned out at the stretch, so sweet and painful at the same time until he pushed all of him inside of you, his tip kissing your cervix.

“You feel so good, baby,” He mumbled quietly, his body desperate for more of the feeling of you wrapped around him. 

Sunghoon’s hands gripped your hips as he slowly began to roll his own against your body, setting a slow rhythm for both of you.

You rolled your eyes back, mouth agape as you felt him pull out just to push himself right back into you.

“S-shit baby.” He groaned as he picked up pace “Squeezing my cock so tight.” 

You grasped his forearms, his muscles under your palms “Fuck— Yes.” You moaned, a little too loudly.

“Shh,” He shushed by crashing his lips on your, swallowing your moans “You don’t want Haneul and Yohan to hear you, do you?” 

You shook your head, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. 

Your own hand went down to rub small circles on your clit, bringing yourself even more pleasure.

Sunghoon craved you, your body, your mind, your whole being. He wrapped his hand around your throat and pushed himself deeper, hitting spots you didn’t even know existed. 

“My wife.” He grunted “My gorgeous wife.” 

You hummed, hips bucking up to meet his thrusts “I missed you so much.” You breathed out. 

Sunghoon nodded in understanding, claiming your lips once again “I missed you too, baby.” 

Sunghoon squeezed your nipples, making you moan “I’ll take tomorrow off, fuck the company, just want be with my family.” He snapped, his hips moving more harshly against yours.

You didn’t have the mind to reply to his rumbling, his pace along with the feeling of him was enough to make the knot in your stomach tighten. 

You clenched around him, making him curse under his breath “How come you’re still so tight?” He scoffed mockingly “Pushed out two babies and you feel tighter than before— Shit!” Sunghoon bit down his bottom lip to muffle his moans.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him more down to you “Hoon, I’m gonna cum.” You warned.

“I know, pretty,” Sunghoon panted heavily between moans, his pace even faster as he chased his own end. “Cum for me, yeah?” He mumbled, “Wanna feel you come undone for me.”

You tried to hold it back, wanting the moment and the pleasure your husband brought you to last forever— But it had been a while since you two shared an intimate moment and your body wasn’t used to it as much anymore. 

With one particular deep thrust, you came with a muffled moan, your body squirming and back arched. 

Watching your orgasm sent him over the edge and he came soon after, “Fuck, Fuck.” Groaning heavily as he felt your walls clenching around him. 

He emptied his load inside you, coating your insides with his cum “Take my cum, angel.” Sunghoon twitched inside you “Take it all, good girl.”

As you both tried to come down from your high, he laid on top of you, not caring that he was probably crashing your body. You didn’t care as well when all you wanted was for him to stay close.

One of your hands went to brush his bangs out of his sweaty forehead and you pressed a small kiss on his thick brow. 

Sunghoon chuckled, the aftercare sessions always full of giggle and unspoken affection..

“Will you seriously take tomorrow off?” You asked quietly after a while, unsure whether he was being serious or if he was just too in the moment. 

He chuckled, caressing your cheek with his thumb “I’m the CEO, I decide what I want.” He said proudly. 

You smiled widely, a warm sensation spreading inside your chest “Really?” 

“Really.” He promised, brushing his thumb against your bottom lip “We’ll make a big surprise to the twins and after we take them to kindergarten….” He bucked his hips, his cock still inside your warm pussy, none of you wanting to disconnect your bodies.

He leaned down to whisper inside your ear “I’m going to have you all for myself, fuck you full of my cum until you can’t no more.” 

You kissed him, biting his bottom lip harshly “I’m down.” Sunghoon moaned, pulling you into another make out session, your bodies moving at a slow rhythm.

After cleaning up, you laid down side by side, his big body engulfing yours, warm arms protectively around your waist.

You missed all of it, the smell of his cologne, the warm feeling of the sheets around both your bodies, his soothing presence.

Sunghoon traced small patterns on your back “Stop drawing dicks.” You nagged, chuckling.

He smiled and pressed a featherlight kiss on your head “I’m so lucky to have you.” He took your hand in his, both your rings tingling “And I never tell you enough how grateful I am for our babies.”

You snuggled closer to his chest “I’m so lucky to have you too— I wouldn’t have made it alone.”

“I love you so much.” Sunghoon whispered, his eyes slowly closing, exhaustion overtaking him “I love you more.” You murmured back.

[megwritesriddles]

In the Back of Your Mind ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Young! Severus Snape x F! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 4 - Stalking. Severus is in love with you from afar. Severus is also very good at legilimency. You show a tiny bit of interest by helping him out in class and he loses a little more of his self-control.

Tags: Stalking, P in V, Unprotected sex, Oral sex (f receiving, a LOT of it), Very dubious consent, Mind manipulation / control, Brainwashing, Improper use of legilimency, Toxic relationships, Yandere Snape, Creepy perverted behaviour, Fantasising, Implied loss of virginity, Self-blaming.

READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!!!!

Word count: 3.7k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: Severus in this fic is written to be a walking red flag, don't seek this kind of relationship irl!! I started to get a headache toward the end of writing this, sorry if it's noticeable in the writing!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Splat, Severus’ books thud to the ground. A cacophony of laughs erupts behind him, led by James Potter, a satisfied smirk on his face from having caused this mild inconvenience. Severus huffs and rolls his eyes, luckily hidden by his mop of long black hair. He bends down to pick up the books, not at all surprised when James nudges one further away with the toe of his shoe. He shuffles forward and picks it up too, straightening himself back up, head hung low. He shuffles across the hall to lean against a wall further from the marauders, who hoot and laugh at him. Even putting himself in their shoes he can’t understand what’s so funny about watching someone pick up books. None of it matters anyway, because you’ll be here soon. Perfect you. You always arrive at this class at 12:56, with your friend by your side. You’d usually be chatting, finishing off a pastry from lunch, whatever had taken your fancy that day, Severus guessed it would be the Pumpkin pasties today. He watches the clock above the door into the potion's dungeon, feeling a familiar tingle of excitement. Just as he knew you would, almost exactly as the clock struck 12:56, your voice drifted around the corner down the corridor. He watches behind his hair as you come into view, chatting happily with your friend, carefully holding a hand in front of your mouth as you chew. He imagines you spotting him, smiling and making your way over, giggling and offering him a bite of your pastry. He’d go to bite it and you’d withdraw it playfully, just to tease him, you’d laugh that bright laugh you have and he’d give you a chastising look before stealing a kiss from you, making you smile wider. You’d wrap your arms around his neck, pushing closer so that–

He’s yanked from his thoughts by Slughorn opening the doors to the lab, the heavy wood scraping unpleasantly against the stone floor. Everyone starts to head inside, he keeps his head down as he enters, hanging back at his usual spot at the back of the room, the spot with a perfect view of you. He places his books down, watching as you quickly scoff the last of your pastry, a pumpkin pasty as he’d guessed before the lesson started. Throughout the lesson he’s watching you, barely concentrating on the topic at hand, he doesn't need to, he already read up on it in his own time so that he can watch you. He’s lucky, in a way, that he only has you for potions, no matter how much he wishes you always there, always by him, always in view, else he may never learn anything at all. You lean forward on the desk, your chin in your palms, legs swinging under the desk. He can vaguely make out the outline of your bra through the back of your uniform shirt, it’s black, clasped on the final row. He almost jots this down on his parchment before he catches himself. He imagines that if he told you this, you’d laugh and call him something childish and endearing, like a ‘silly sausage’, flicking his nose gently. He’s lost in this fantasy, this world where he can tell you that he’s watching you and you find it sweet, going through the motions of setting up his workstation for brewing. He doesn’t even realise that Slughorn is calling out to him until your head turns towards him, looking curious. He notices with a start that the entire class is looking at him, the marauders laughing tauntingly among themselves.

“Er… what?” he croaks out, his voice a little rough from barely speaking all day. He hears a few more chuckles, but not from you. Kind, perfect you. You just glance between him and Slughorn without a hint of judgement in your eyes.

“Your hair is getting rather too long, boy, you’ll have to tie it up for this potion, it’s very volatile,” Slughorn chortles from the front of the room. “Do any of the ladies have a spare?” He addresses the room. The marauders and a couple of the other boys explode with laughter, several of the girls immediately shake their heads, or do nothing, except beautiful, perfect you. You’re picking up your bag and digging through it without a second's hesitation and he could kiss you right now, not that there was any time he felt like he couldn’t. Your friend, obviously shamed into action by you, flicks half-heartedly through her bag too. The rest of the class returns to setting up.

“A-ha!” you exclaim, pulling out a plain black hairband from your bag. Black like your bra, his brain supplies, but he shakes that off because you’re walking over to him. He’s immediately sweating, luckily you’re unlikely to notice through his robes, although you may notice the growing sheen on his forehead. You stand in front of him, smiling like an angel. He’s not this close to you often, somehow you’re even more ethereal up close. He takes a shaky breath as you extend the hairband to him. "Don't listen to them, Black is only about an inch away from needing one himself,"

“Th-Thank you…” He mumbles, brushing your fingertips with his own on purpose. It feels like a thousand fireworks exploding under his skin and he smiles shakily. You smile and shrug.

“Just get it back to me when you can, or keep it honestly, I have hundreds and you’ll probably need it again,” you explain happily. You always seem to have nothing bringing you down and he admires it, wishing he could be so positive, perhaps it’s easy when you’re as flawless as you are. You skip off back to your workstation to your friend. He has something in his hand that is yours, something he’s allowed to keep, something he didn’t have to snatch when you left the room. There’s a couple of your hairs stuck around it and he shivers in excitement. This is something you have used, and he has it through legitimate means. He’s floating on air. While everyone else is beginning to brew, he hides behind his cauldron carefully laying down your hairs in his notebook, making sure not to break them, securing them so they don’t fall out.

Eventually, once he’s sure he can’t extract any more of yours from the hairband, he finally ties his hair back into a low ponytail, getting to work. He’s confident he can catch up on the brewing time he missed, even as he keeps being distracted by the sight of you across the room, your hair pulled up out of your face in the same type of hairband you gave him. You’re gorgeous, somehow more than usual, which shouldn’t be possible or, frankly, legal. He’s often wondered if you’re part Veela somewhere far back, because of how absolutely perfect you are. Through extensive research of your family tree, he was able to prove himself wrong, but he still wonders. His potion expertise allows him to catch up on the potion, still being awarded the best potion in class by the end of it. He almost feels bad for everyone who actually put some effort into brewing just to lose to him again, but that feeling melts away when he spots you grinning at him as Slughorn announces his win. The two of you have never been friends, but you have always been silently friendly toward him, refusing to be swayed by the rumours about him. It’s perhaps what he loves the absolute most about you. He’s packing up when you approach him again, smiling softly.

“I actually like your hair up like this,” you whisper, reaching over to gently flick the end of his short ponytail. Severus doesn’t know if you’re teasing him or not. He feels like he’s been struck by lightning, both by your words and your playful touch. A hundred images of fantasies he’s had about you over the years flash through his mind. You’ve touched him! Willingly! In that playful way, he’d always imagined you would. It takes a lot of effort to remind himself that he can’t just kiss you right now. His mouth falls open and he lets out an undignified throaty noise. He quickly covers it up with a cough, blinking rapidly.

“I um… you… do?” he chokes out. You study his face for a moment, he’s sure you’re about to change your mind. You could never be so cruel though, he knows this, you’re too wonderful.

“Yeah… it’s nice to see your eyes sometimes,” you tease. Severus forces himself to laugh back casually, trying to force down the love hearts that are practically forming in his eyes. He also has to stop himself from grabbing you, never letting you move away again. He regrets holding himself back when your friend comes up behind you and ushers you away to your next class. You smile at him over your shoulder as you begin to leave. He quickly decides to use the compliments you’ve just given him against you. He wonders how much you really meant to them, but he has to try anyway. He invades your mind, silently smug about your lack of defences even after all this time. He feeds you a vision based on what you’ve just said. His head between your perfect supple thighs, looking up at you with wide needy eyes, his hair pulled back just like this, devouring your sweet cunt. He knows he’s been successful as he watches you suddenly flush and turn away, your cheeks bright red.

He doesn’t really know how you feel about these visions. He’s been invading your mind and planting them since the end of the fifth year. He would love to stick around in your brain, find out how you react to them, do some digging, and find out how you really feel about him, but he can’t risk it. The longer you’re in somebody's mind, the more they can feel the foreign presence. You’re still yet to put up any wards, even rudimentary ones, so he assumes you don’t realise you’re being invaded. You also haven’t started to avoid him more than normal, if you realised these visions were coming from someone else, there would only be one logical conclusion as to who they came from, but you haven’t withdrawn or confronted him in any way, so he figures he’s safe for now. The nature of the visions he gives you is probably enough to distract you from the momentary uncomfortable tingle of someone else being in your brain. He’s been experimenting for a long while to see what thoughts you react to the best. He often sits in the dining hall, somewhere where he has the perfect view of you, and plants various thoughts. You don’t seem to school your emotions very well, so he gets a vague idea of how you react to each scenario. He’s tried visions of him bending you over, roughly taking everything he wants from you, he’s tried visions of him begging on his knees to please you and everything in between. You blush beautifully at each one, whether from embarrassment or arousal, he isn’t sure. He can’t wait to feel your cheek heat up under his hand, because he will get to feel it, some day. You don’t seem to like the more extreme scenarios, complete domination or complete submission, but you don’t seem to mind either way if the power dynamic is a little milder. He doesn’t mind, he would be anything for you, do anything. What you seem to like best is when he feeds you a vision of him eating you out. He supposes it makes sense, it’s completely focused on your pleasure, so it’s practically all he’s been giving you lately. Sometimes he holds you down and calls you a good girl, sometimes you’re riding his face and calling him a good boy, you seem to like it either way. It makes him unbelievably smug.

After dinner, he’s trailing you and your friends to your common room, just to make sure that you’re safe, nothing more. He’s a little careless, feeding you the same vision over and over, enjoying watching you blush and stutter from afar as you try to chat with your friends. You probably think you’ve been hit with a lust potion or something, as he isn’t letting you think of anything else. It seems you hadn’t lied when you’d told him you liked his hair in the ponytail, as every time he gave you the same vision from earlier, he noticed your thighs tense. This isn’t a reaction he gets from you often at all, usually, it’s so subtle that he can be convinced it was unrelated, but this vision, in particular, seems to have you doing this every time. He’d dropped his fork at dinner just to duck under the table to watch your thighs clench, the sight nearly making his mouth water. He wished he could get under your table and spread your legs, make that vision a reality, but sadly he could not. He would do it in a heartbeat if you asked, fuck the consequences, fuck who could see. Maybe one day, if he kept torturing you with this vision, you would come begging. He feels his cock twitching eagerly in his trousers at the thought. You disappear into your common with your friends, him watching from around the corner. He sighs in disappointment, deciding to leave you be for the night since he can’t delight in your lovely little reactions any more. He hangs around at the corner for a moment, debating whether to head outside onto the grounds to watch you through your dorm window like he often did. The mini telescope he had to buy for Astronomy had turned out to be a fantastic use of money, even if he did often see your roommates instead. He had seen them all in various states of undress by now, but he couldn’t care about any of them in the least, he only had eyes for you.

Over the next few days, he eases off a little, realising how reckless he’d been. He couldn’t risk you knowing what he’s been doing, he can’t imagine that would end very well, even if you had seemed to grow to like the visions he gave you. He didn’t stop altogether, because that would have arguably been just as suspicious. He keeps it tame, one or two a day, maybe a little more innocent than normal. He can’t help but continue to use the information about you liking his hair back, making sure every fantasy he feeds you has him that way. He keeps your hairband, pulling his hair back every day now, because it makes you look at him just a second longer, and he’s obsessed with it. Lucius comments on it, saying it looks odd, but he couldn’t care less. It makes secretly watching you harder too, as he can’t hide behind his hair so much, but he makes do, all for those extra glances. He continues his routines, waiting for you to emerge in the mornings from your common room by hiding around the corner, watching you at every mealtime, trailing you back to the common room in the evening and then watching you through your window whenever he feels the need.

One night, once he’s happy you’re safely back in your common room, he turns to leave but trips slightly over his feet. He glances down, realising with an exasperated huff that the laces on his oxfords have come undone. He crouches down to tie them, setting his other knee on the ground. He fumbles with them unnecessarily, frustrated with himself. He vaguely registers footsteps approaching him, but not enough to react before he hears a voice.

“Oh… Severus, what are you doing here?” your soft angelic voice echoes slightly in the empty corridor. You seem confused, and, arguably, you have reason to be. The only thing down this corridor is your common room, and he has no excuse to be here. He swallows, staring straight down at the ground, his mind working a mile a minute.

“Here to return the hairband,” he grunts, thinking fast. It’s the only excuse he has, even if you had told him to keep it. He looks up at you from his crouched position, you’re a lot closer to him than he thought. He realises how similar this position is to some of the ones he’s forced into your brain. He’s pleased to notice, from the flush on your face, that you make this connection too, without it being planted. He shifts slightly, lowering both his knees to the ground and facing you properly. He looks up at you, his eyes burning with barely contained arousal. You’re flushed and shy as you look down at him and he dares to invade your mind to see what you’re thinking. He can’t fight the twitch of his lips as he creeps into your mind, only to find you’re imagining him, just as he is now, pushing up your skirt and burying his face between your legs. He shivers, you’re thinking of this all on your own. There’s a nag at the back of his mind, telling him you don’t quite seem to want to be thinking this, but he ignores it, reaching up for your thighs. You yelp in surprise as his cold, long fingers press into the warm skin of your thighs and he pulls you forward.

“Wha- what are you doing?” you squeak, stumbling helplessly toward him. He doesn’t answer, he feels possessed, and he’s already salivating. He brushes his nose against the skin of your thigh, just under the hem of your skirt, making you gasp. You smell divine, a vague hint of your perfume, presumably stuck to the fabric of your skirt, a hint of something that he realises, with a growl, must be your arousal. You try to step away, but he grips you harder, keeping you in place. He knows you want him, even if you don’t seem to know it yourself. You whimper as he licks a stripe up your thigh, the taste is faintly salty and he groans in pleasure. He hears the old castle creak slightly, reminding him that the two of you are out in the open. He withdraws slightly. You look utterly dazed above him like you don’t understand what’s going on. You realise that he’s walking you to a cleaning cupboard nearby, and your legs just blindly follow him. You want to protest, but can’t seem to find it in you. You had been fantasising about this for years now, even if the reason for these fantasies never seemed to make sense. He brings you in, shutting the door behind you. He’s kneeling again in an instant, he almost looks crazed as he bunches up your skirt. He doesn’t even give you time to acclimate before his tongue is on you through the material of your underwear. You gasp out loudly as he tastes the small wet spot of fabric, when did you even get wet? He takes a long deep sniff, his nose nudging at your clit through the fabric. He licks at you desperately until the material is soaked through, both with his saliva and your arousal. You were shocked by just how intensely your body was reacting to all this. You let him slide down your underwear, figuring there’s no point stopping him now. You lean back against the wall as he buries his head between your legs, shaking his head slightly to get even closer, the movement making you moan softly. He’s undeniably eager, lapping and slurping at you, but it’s fairly clear he’s never done this before. This is all he’s ever wanted, and he’s determined to make the most of it, the scent and taste of you making him feel insane. He rubs you all over his face, wriggling his tongue against you, gripping the flesh of your buttocks to keep you in place. He’s mumbling against you, about how long he’s been picturing this, but you can’t quite hear him, which is probably for the best. He makes up for his lack of experience with his enthusiasm, the way he’s looking up at you like he’s desperate to please. You find yourself falling apart all over his face shockingly fast, biting your lip to stifle your whines.

“Thank you, thank you,” he mumbles over and over as he laps you all up. He pulls away and you go a little limp, sliding slightly down the wall as he stands. You barely register what’s happening as he turns you around pressing you up against the wall, your eyes widen as he pushes inside you, but by now you’re well past the point of no return, so you simply brace yourself against the wall. He humps you like a dog in heat, sloppy and fast, you’re glad he made you orgasm earlier because you don’t get the feeling you will be cumming from this. Not that it feels bad, in fact, it feels quite good, making you moan as he bullies against you. He grips your waist tight with his slender fingers. “This is perfect, everything I’ve ever dreamed of,” he whimpers in your ear. “Now that I’ve had a taste of you, I’m never letting you go, you’re mine now,” you know what he’s saying is worrying, but your fucked out mind can’t quite realise the true danger of what he’s saying and what your lack of protesting is solidifying in his mind. “All mine,” he growls, his hips stuttering violently. He buries himself as deep as he can. “Fo-forever,” he groans shakily as he spills deep inside of you. He holds you there for a long time, your body limp in his arms as he pants against the back of your neck. You feel lightheaded, you can’t believe everything that’s just happened to you. He kisses your cheek, over and over, as if it's some sort of compulsion. “Mine, mine, mine,” he mumbles repeatedly, the reality of everything starting to sink in for you. Maybe you should have believed the rumours about his mental instability, maybe you should have kicked him away when he first grabbed your thighs, perhaps you should be telling him right now that you’re not his, but instead, a string of words come out of your mouth, feeling like they’re only half your own.

“Can you eat me out again?”

And he happily complies, sliding back down onto his knees.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

[rose-petles]

Pls can you make a pt 2 to the 니키 - ruined make-out sessions -> N.NK fic where niki is teased by the members

니키 - ruined make-out sessions -> N.NK [ P.2 ]

Warning → none!

Paring → Clingybf!Niki x SoftieGfFem!Reader

Synopsis → Its been two months since he has kissed your lips.

He whined as you dragged him into the bathroom to get ready, already craving your kisses again. “But I miss you I wanna spend time with my love.. can I not..?”

You sighed, “We are already going out with your bandmates, lets go love..”

Niki sighed and followed you as you dragged him out of the room to the lounge area.

After jake had left the room a smirk spread across his face as he watched you kiss, his mind already running through all the teasing he was going to give Niki later.

When Niki arrived to meet his friends at the restaurant a little while later, he was instantly met with raised eyebrows and knowing smirks. Sunghoon leaned back in his chair, looking at Niki with mock seriousness.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to show up,” Sunghoon said, tapping his fingers. “Must’ve been a really good excuse for being late.”

Heeseung chuckled. “Did you have something better to do than hang out with us, Niki?”

Niki shifted, immediately suspicious. “What’s with the attitude?” he asked, trying to sound casual. But the red tint that rose to his cheeks betrayed him.

Jake finally let out a loud laugh, clapping Niki on the shoulder. “broo. Saw you and Y/n having a very romantic moment.”

Niki’s face turned even redder, and he groaned, dropping his head. “Jake, why didn’t you just walk away quietly?” he muttered, eyes closed in embarrassment.

Sunoo leaned over the table, clasping his hands dramatically. “A kiss, really? On the bed? How cliché,” he teased, earning a laugh from everyone.

Jungwon laughed, pointing a finger at Niki. “Our little Niki is growing up so fast! Who knew he’d be the romantic type?”

Even Jay joined in, winking. “Next thing you know, he’ll be planning a candlelit dinner.”

Niki buried his face in his hands, his muffled voice reaching them. “You guys are the worst. Seriously.”

Heeseung gave Niki a light shove, grinning. “Don’t worry, we’re just happy for you, man.”

Despite the teasing, they all flashed him supportive smiles, and Niki couldn’t help but laugh with them, knowing he’d never hear the end of this.

But when he looked back at his friends, their laughter mingling in the air, he knew it didn’t matter.

At the end of the day, he had you—and they’d always be there to remind him of that in the most embarrassing ways possible.

Back to -> | Navagation | Masterlist

Copyright © 2024 rose-petle/Rostle. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED | Do NOT edit, copy, translate or repost any of my work without permission.

[heartshapedmisery]

𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩 | art donaldson

summary ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ art is your tennis coach, but after he tells you to "loosen up" a bit, you're not sure if your boundaries are strictly professional anymore.

warnings ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖  MINORS DNI ! ( 18+ ) | language, graphic smut, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it y'all ), soft!dom!art, sub!reader, sexual tension, art gives reader a massage, praise kink, p in v sex, fingering, if i missed anything, please let me know!

word count ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ 3.2k +

pairing ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ standford!art donaldson x fem!stanford!reader

author’s note ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖  saw challengers the other day .... its all i can think about rn so i made a fic! hope u enjoy! also i know nothing about physical therapy so if this makes no sense I'm sorry

publishing date ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖  may 5th, 2024 | © HEARTSHAPEDMISERY

tags ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ @madnessandobsession @hashtagtobefuckinghonest @mitskilover23

A bead of sweat rolled down your temple as your feet carried you quickly across the tennis court, your eyes refusing to leave the bright yellow ball that was coming towards you from the opposite side of the net.

"Keep your eye on the ball, sweetheart!" Art barked, a few blonde strands of his hair falling in his eyes as he watched you simply miss the ball once again.

The nickname caught you off guard, dismantling your focus and causing you to falter your movements. Your arm swung out far enough, but your racket was just below the ball, allowing it to fly right over it and hit the concrete behind you. A tinge of pain seared through your right shoulder, making you wince.

"Shit!" You grumbled in annoyance, your eyes refusing to meet Art's since you knew he would scold you for your miss.

You threw the racket in your hand down at your feet, irritated that you hadn't kept the ball going back and forth between you and Art for more than 2 times in your last 5 tries.

Your mind was somewhere else; normally you were a beast on the court, dominating your competition (all thanks to Art). Today, not so much.

"What was that, the 6th time?" Art scoffed, waving his racket about in the air. "What's wrong with your shoulder?" he pointed his racket in your direction, a look of concern written on his face.

You didn't answer him, walking off the court over to the bench and grabbing your water bottle. He followed you, taking the bottle from your hand when you were done and squirting the liquid into his mouth. Your eyes watched him carefully, following the water droplets as a few fell from the corner of his mouth.

"You're tense, I can see it all over you when you're moving around out there," he said, motioning to your shoulders and neck. Your eyes caught the way his polo clung to his toned chest, sweat starting to seep through from his constant movement.

"I'm fine," you told him, shrugging his words off. "Just a little distracted, is all."

A lopsided grin cracked across his face, not buying your excuses.

"Come here," he motioned for you to move towards him, which you hesitantly responded to before walking to him. Carefully, his hands grabbed your shoulders and spun you around, your back meeting his front harsher than you had expected.

Your heartbeat quickly picked up, the feeling of his hands on your bare shoulders felt hot and heavy on your skin.

This wasn't the first time Art has caught you off guard like this. You had noticed over the past few months how touchy he could be, whether he was correcting your form or bidding you good job after a match with a rub on the back.

And no matter how much you denied it, you couldn't help but love every second of it. Despite being your coach, he had an effect on you that no one else did. He drove you wild, but of course, he never realized that.

At least, you thought he didn't.

"Your shoulders are very tight, especially your right one. That's why you're not getting a lot of movement," he spoke softly in your ear, his fingers running up the sides of your arms before finally gripping your shoulders. His fingers squeezed your flesh gently, burning against your skin enough to make you let out a sigh he undoubtedly heard.

"You need to loosen up a little bit, sweetheart. All this stress is messing you up, and we can't have that." his voice was smooth and sultry, a total contrast to what it had been only moments before on the court.

His fingers kneaded at the muscles at the top of your back, working out all of the kinks and knots that inhabited your shoulders. Your eyes quickly fell shut as you leaned into his touch, getting lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

"Ah," you breathed out, the feeling of his thumb reaching a spot that unraveled the tension in your right shoulder. "Right there."

You couldn't see it, but a wide smile bloomed across his face at your words, his thumb moving to massage the muscle deeper than before. You let out a breath groan, which (as much as he hated to admit it) indubitably went straight to his lower half.

He didn't expect you to be so responsive to his touch. It surprised him, but that didn't mean he was opposed to it.

"Yeah?" He breathed. "Does that feel better?"

He knew exactly what he was doing, even though you were so oblivious to his shenanigans.

"Yes," you groaned, allowing your head to fall back slightly. You breathed in deeply as he continued his work at your muscles, watching you revel in the relief at the top of your back.

To anyone else, his actions only looked like a coach helping his player work out an injury. But to you and Art, this was months of tension finally boiling over. The way his hands worked across your skin, the pleasurable sighs you let out. It was the two of you crossing a boundary you had never expected to abandon.

"Art!" a voice sounded from the opposite side of the court, making your eyes snap open. His hands stopped their movements, but he didn't remove them from your shoulders as he looked over his shoulder at whoever was trying to get his attention.

It was Mike, the Athletic Director at Stanford.

"Mike," he stated, greeting him with a nod. His voice almost sounded disappointed, not appreciating that he had interrupted the two of you. "What can I do you for?"

His hands finally left your shoulders, your skin feeling dull and light from their wake. You quickly snapped yourself back to reality, brushing away the hot feeling in your chest as you watched the exchange between Art and Mike.

"I just have some paperwork for you to fill out for the semester," he said, "Won't take long."

You watched Art's expression lighten, giving him a slight nod before agreeing to meet him in his office and Mike dismissing himself from the court.

Your gaze met Art's as he turned back to grab his gym bag off the bench and slung it over his shoulder. You watched him carefully, before taking your own bag off the bench.

"Put some ice on that shoulder," he pointed to your right side as he slipped his Ray Bans onto his face to shield his eyes from the sun. "I'll come check on it later, okay?"

You nodded, your mind already racing at the thought. You watched him as he walked away from your view, a feeling of excitement and confusion bubbling in your chest.

You didn't see him again until after lunch. You had been wandering around your small apartment in nothing but a tank top and pajama shorts (due to the blistering California heat outside) with a bag of ice taped around your shoulder, trying to keep your mind occupied until Art arrived.

Your afternoon classes had been canceled so you decided to take it easy at home, trying to keep your arm relaxed as much as possible.

When you heard a simple knock at your door, the feeling from earlier that morning had returned, rising in your chest and making your neck hot at the thought of him. He stood nonchalantly at your door when you swung it open, greeting him with a warm smile.

"Hey," you said, moving out of the way to let him in. He sent you a small smile back, following you into your tiny living room.

"How's the shoulder?" he rasped, taking a look at the ice pack on your arm that was starting to leak.

"Pretty good, hasn't really changed much. Still a little sore, though." you told him honestly, still confused as to why you had tweaked it so bad.

"Mind if I take a look at it?" he asked, gently running his hand up the side of your arm. The sensation sent chills down your spine as you nodded simply. He had to stop doing that or else you were going to go crazy.

"Here, sit down between my legs with your back towards me," he motioned to the couch, sitting behind you before moving to remove the athletic tape from the ice pack. You could feel his warmth behind you, his breath hot against your shoulder as he peered at your injury.

Your breath hitched as you felt his finger hook under the right strap of your tank top, your head turning slightly to catch his eye.

"Do you mind if I move this down?" he asked gently, eager to make sure you were okay with him touching you like this. You nodded, a little quicker than you had anticipated.

"Yeah, that's fine," you breathed, before turning back around. Carefully, he pulled the strap down, exposing your bare shoulder to him. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his calloused hands against your smooth skin, his fingers slowly beginning to knead at your muscles.

"I feel a lot of tension here still," he told you, his hand gently moving to raise your arm up slightly over your head. You felt a pop in your joints, an instant feeling of relief washing through your shoulder. A breathy moan escaped your lips at the movement, grateful that it felt better already.

"Shit," you breathed, thankful for his skillful hands. "That feels good."

Art let out a breathy laugh, making your heart swell. "Lean back against me, I want to try something."

You followed his instructions, your back meeting his toned chest, sinking into his embrace. The smell of his cologne invaded your senses, making you sigh.

Carefully, he wrapped his arm around your collarbone, his left hand laying flat against the front of your shoulder while his right hand gripped the back of your bicep where your arm met your shoulder.

His hands were slow and gentle but still had you unwinding more with each movement. His left hand gently pushed your shoulder back as his right pushed your arm forward, earning another pop in your joints.

"Oh my god," you groaned under your breath, your hand subconsciously moving to grip his muscular forearm without realizing it.

"That's it, sweetheart," he cooed in your ear as you let out a sigh of relief. "Does that feel better?"

'So much better," you told him honestly, still holding onto his arm. Your eyes quickly fell down to it, an idea circling in your mind before your hand slowly began to move. He watched you carefully, his eyes following your freshly manicured hand moved to settle over his, before carefully moving his hand down your chest.

"But I think I'm still a little tense, Art," you breathed, biting your lip as his fingers ghosted over your hardened nipple before you moved it down further to your abdomen. His mind finally caught on to what you were trying to get at, a sly smirk cracking across his face.

"Could you help me?" you whispered, settling his hand on your lower stomach, dangerously close to where you wanted him most.

He didn't respond, his hand simply moving from underneath yours and allowing his fingers to slip underneath the waistband of your skimpy shorts, your breath hitching. He moved his free hand from your arm and down to your thigh, gently spreading them apart.

You felt him exhale a deep breath, before finally answering your request. "Of course. Anything to help my star player."

His fingers broke the barrier of your panties just as the words left his mouth, dipping into your soaked core without warning. You let out a moan as his lips pressed gentle kisses to your bare shoulder before moving up your neck and settling just below your ear.

His middle and ring fingers played at your clit, rubbing it gently before dipping back into you, curling his fingers inside of you sweetly.

A moan sounded from your plump lips, your head falling back on his shoulder. Your hand gripped his bicep as he continued to give you what you wanted, writhing in pleasure at his movements.

You could feel his hard-on press into your back as you sunk into his embrace, turning you on even more.

"How does that feel, baby?" he rasped, kissing your temple as he could feel you beginning to unravel on his fingers. "Is this what you wanted?"

You whimpered, biting your lip as you nodded your head. "Yes!"

As his fingers moved quickly inside of you, you felt his free hand wrap around your torso before moving up to your chest, his fingers ghosting over your hardened nipple.

"Please, Art," you whimpered, so close to your high. He took your words as a sign to keep going and allowed his fingers to fondle your breast, which sent you over the edge.

"Fuck, I'm-" you whined, your words caught dead in your throat as your orgasm washed over you, a defeated moan sounding from your chest.

He was mesmerized as he watched you, the way your head kicked back against his chest and you gripped his thigh as you came down from your climax. The pure ecstasy was seeping from you, and it drove him wild that he brought you to this state.

Carefully, he removed his fingers from your soaked core, bringing them to his mouth before sucking them clean. Your head snapped around to watch him, going feral at the way he reveled at the taste of you. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him.

Your hands cupped the sides of his head, your fingers running through his blonde locks of hair. His eyes fell on your wet, plump lips before he smashed his own against them without warning.

A whine of approval sounded from the back of your throat, your body quickly crawling into his lap, straddling him as you sunk deeper into the kiss. His hands ran up the sides of your thighs before settling on the flesh of your ass, squeezing it as he held your core down against his hard-on.

His lips finally pulled away from yours, both of you out of breath as you met each other's gaze once again. He was quick to attack your neck, leaving sloppy and wet kisses all over your skin as he rocked your hips over his erection for any sort of release he could get.

Your fingers tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck, earning a low groan to sound from his chest, which went straight to your core. You were growing impatient, pulling away from him in order to tug your tank top over your head. His eyes fell to your bare chest, a look of pure lust haunting them.

You quickly stood up from his lap to remove your shorts along with your underwear, giving him the opportunity to rid himself of his clothes as well. Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head as his hard-on slapped against his lower stomach once he pulled his boxers off, his tip reddened and already leaking with precum.

"Come here, baby," he said soothingly, his hands pulling you back into his lap once more, your bare chest flush with his. Your faces were inches apart, your lips parted as you watched him reach between your bodies and grasp his cock, slowly giving it a few pumps before he aligned himself with your core.

You raised your hips a little, hovering over him to allow him to guide himself into you, a deep moan ripping from your chest when you finally sank down on him.

"Fuck," he groaned, the feeling of your wet core overriding his senses. You stretched around him so sweetly, taking him so well he couldn't help but moan.

Your hands settled comfortably on his shoulders, using them to help stabilize yourself as you began to rock your hips into a steady motion. You couldn't help but bite your lip, unable to keep your moans from falling out of your mouth.

He filled you to the brim, reaching a part of you deep inside that had never fully been satisfied. It made you ecstatic; you couldn't get enough of him.

"Fuck me, Art," you moaned, pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck. "Fuck me hard."

He let out a shaky breath at your bluntness but obeyed you nonetheless. His hands gripped your hips roughly before he began a steady pace of fucking up into you, making you reel your head back in pleasure.

"Look at you, taking me so well," he moaned in between whimpers of pleasure, gripping your hips harder as he quickened his thrusts. You were a blubbering mess at this point, your head falling to the crook of his shoulder to muffle your cries.

His arm wrapped around your torso to keep you steady, his free hand moving to rake through your hair and pull your head back up to meet his gaze. He watched you intently as tears formed in your eyes, your orgasm not too far away.

"So pretty," he cooed, cupping your face. "All for me, right?"

"I'm yours, Art," you whimpered, clawing at his bicep as you felt yourself tipping over the edge. "All yours. Fuck, I'm close!"

Your moans were like music to his ears, sounding so melodic as your eyes fluttered shut in lust. With a few quick final thrusts, your second orgasm washed over you, making you writhe with pleasure as a nearly pornographic moan ripped from your chest.

He gripped your hips as he stilled his movements, his eyes intently watching you as your face contorted with your climax. He nearly came at the sight, letting out a shaky moan as you slumped back against him, completely fucked out.

"Fuck," you breathed, looking up at him as he panted heavily, a lazy smile on his face.

Suddenly, you remembered he hadn't come yet, and your body was already sliding off of him and sinking to your knees between his legs before you could even think otherwise.

"Wait, no you don't have to-" he assured you as he sat up, but you were already shushing him and taking him into your hand, gently pumping him as you gripped his thigh for leverage.

His eyes were blown out with lust as he watched you jerk him off, relaxing into your touch as a whimper escaped his throat. You looked so sexy sitting in between his legs, so eager to help him reach his climax. It didn't take long before he was letting out a guttural groan and painting your chest with his release.

His chest heaved up and down as he pulled himself back together, taking in your appearance before him. He never wanted to forget you like this; your face flushed and dewey with sweat from the orgasm he had just given you.

"Sorry, baby," he breathed, sitting up to grab your tank top and wipe you clean with it. You sent him a small smile, thankful for the gesture before you got back on the couch next to him and curled into his side. He grabbed the blanket that was hanging over the back of the couch and laid it over the two of you, trying to make you as comfortable as possible.

The sudden realization that you had just fucked your tennis coach began to seep into your brain as you felt the warmth of his skin on yours, goosebumps running down your spine at the thought.

Fuck, this was going to make for an interesting practice tomorrow. . .

[reiderwriter]

🫂 Transference 🫂

Pairing: Spencer Reid x virgin!Fem Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Summary: He saves your life, and he keeps saving it every day, but Spencer won't let you love him until you finally beg him to. Is transference really that much of an issue?

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Mentions of Case details - reader is the unsub victim, mentions of rape and attempted rape, gunshot, death, kidnapping, imprisonment, parental neglect, abandonment, loss of virginity (positive), semi-public sex, bathroom sex, fingering, penetrative sex (p in v), missionary, praise kink (good girl), moaning kink (?), safe sex, slight cum play/ oral, aftercare.

A/N: I wrote a virgin reader fic for kinktober that people loved a lot (thank you all!), and I had a lot of requests for something similar, so please - enjoy!

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You'd met him at the library, as if the world wanted you to forever associate the comfort you found in between the pages of a worn book with the man that tried to end your life. At first, you'd thought it a coincidence, then he'd flashed a smile at you, and you'd believed it to be fate, drawn in by the charm he wore as a disguise. 

Your first date was sweet, flowers and dinner. Your second date was sweeter, and they kept on that way. Sugar dropped into your ears until you were floating on cloud nine, right as he turned his charm off. 

“Really?” He started one day, his tone accusing from the get-go. 

“What?” 

“You're really going to eye fuck that man in front of me?” His voice was loud enough to catch notice in the small café you'd joined him in for the morning, and all the life drained out of your face. 

“I'm not- what?”

“No, forget it,” he chuffed, taking another sip of his drink and turning away from you. 

You noticed it more and more from then on, how he would accuse you of small things like looking at other men, like you had the choice to ignore them when they were shop clerks, bus drivers and just fucking people living their lives. 

Your friends were even weirded out when you joked with them about it, telling them all about your silly boyfriend who ripped a poster off your wall because it had some actor or singer or something on it. It wasn't even that important to you, but as you laughed, you were greeted with silence, with sideways glances and concerning questions. 

It was all starting to crumble, and there was nothing you could do to stop it but cling on. 

The next thing was his pushiness. You'd been up front with him at the beginning of the relationship that you were a virgin, something that he was more than happy about. 

He'd said it was because he was a man of God, and he understood your commitment, which confused you as you weren't a virgin for religious reasons. But you brushed it off as everything else about him was so… gentlemanly? 

Until he started pushing his hands up your thighs when he kissed you. He tried multiple times to push his fingers into your underwear as you tried to pull back, each time apologizing immediately when you displayed more panicked displeasure. 

“I'm sorry, something must have… The devil got to me for a second there, Y/N, but I won't let him win.” He kissed the top of your head, and he walked you to your door before giving you another chaste kiss and leaving. 

They found the first body the next morning.

She was young, maybe 16 or 17. Beaten, raped, mutilated, and asphyxiated. They said he'd kept raping her body long after she'd taken her last breath. It took them two weeks to notify her parents because of the way he'd left her. 

You'd watched the news report the same week with your boyfriend, shocked and horrified at the news and cuddling closer to him for comfort. 

Each step you came closer to him, each time you allowed him to touch you, he took it as a sign of his ownership, his claim on you. Not a single other person could get in between him and his prize. Each time you rejected him, he killed another girl. 

By body five, they'd called in the BAU. 

“Did you hear they're bringing in the FBI to solve that Cathy Renaud case? It's all over the news. Apparently, the team is super special.” 

You'd brought up the words while cooking him breakfast. He didn't live with you, but any good girlfriend would feed their man, so he woke you up every day on his way to work to let you prepare him something. 

His whole attention was on his phone, though, as he nodded through your conversation, grunting and moaning at each word. 

It was only when you brought him his plate of pancakes that you realized that he was just as interested in the subject as you were. Because he was staring at the photos of the girl he mutilated the night before. 

You didn't want to think about everything that happened after that. After the plate fell to the floor and cracked, splintering into your foot and causing you your first injury in a long line. 

You didn't want to think about the things he showed you, the way he touched you, or at least tried to. You heaved and wretched and emptied your stomach every single time you thought about the restraints on your wrists, how he'd tried to rape you but couldn't bring himself to do it because you weren't young enough anymore. You weren't dead enough.  

Instead, every time you thought back to that week, you found yourself back at the end. You replayed the bullet lodging into his brain as a comfort, which told you more than you needed to know about your mental state. It was Spencer Reid who'd shot him. He'd been quick enough to realize that the man would never have been talked down, and he'd fired the shot as a mercy to you. He may have killed your boyfriend, putting him down like he was a sick animal, but you were the one put out of your misery. 

He didn't stop to watch the body hit the floor before falling to your side, the other agents clearing the room and checking the corpse. He'd helped you to your feet, drawn an arm around your waist and pushed your head into his chest so you didn't have to see the carnage on the way out, didn't have to deal with the camera flashes as the press scrambled for pictures of the monster's willing victim. 

“One step at a time, this isn't your fault. Just stick with me,” he said, moving you from the house to a waiting van as you clasped his vest desperately, needing the lifeline he'd thrown you. 

“Ma'am, ma'am. I'm a paramedic, I won't hurt you, I just need to take your vitals, make sure you're okay.” 

The voice was vague and in the distance, and you were so sure it wasn't directed at you that you simply let yourself wrap around the man who'd saved you when you got to the ambulance. Nothing else was around but his chest, his hand on your back, your legs wrapped around him as they finally gave out. 

“Ma'am… Please, you're injured-” 

“Y/N,” he spoke finally, and you grabbed him tighter, nails digging into the skin at his neck. 

“You're Y/N, right? We've been looking for you for a long time. I'm not going anywhere, I won't let anyone hurt you.” 

The words were enough to reassure you, pulling back slightly as the paramedics began working on you, but not enough for you to embrace their touch. You clambered away from the paramedic the moment you saw he was a man, close in build and coloring to the corpse in the building behind you. 

You screamed, you cried, you pounded at the doors as Spencer held to you him, letting the paramedics sedate you, rocking you to sleep on the step of the emergency vehicle.

He was by your bedside every time you woke up, too. It was funny seeing him there when you still didn't know his name. Your parents hadn't visited, too ashamed to be associated with the entire thing to even check in on you. 

He had himself assigned your emergency contact after six days of your parents not showing up. In all that time, he'd sat patiently by your side as you wailed and raged and went numb, and the cycle repeated itself in perpetuity. 

He was there, too, with a bag of clothes and a fresh start waiting for you when you were ready to be discharged. 

His team had since moved on to another criminal of the week, putting the lives lost behind them as they traipsed through more cases and corpses and killers. He was still there, though. Somehow. 

You were old enough to be able to discharge yourself from a hospital, old enough to not need a guardian to take care of you. Spencer stayed anyway, and you didn't bother asking why. 

“I don't want to leave the hospital,” you said, climbing back into the bed you'd forced yourself into for the last week. The same bed where the nurse had ran your rape kit even after you'd told her he'd never touched you like that, after you'd explained and denied and shouted to high hell that no-one had touched you like that and she sure as hell wasn't going to be the first. 

Spencer had put a stop to the traumatic experience when he'd returned with your coffee, always picking up something for you when he went out. 

The nurse had gripped and moaned and murmured an apology, and you knew you'd not been an easy patient, but you couldn't bring yourself to feel bad about it. 

That didn't mean you wanted to leave yet, though. 

“I can't leave, I have nowhere to live.”

“Y/N, you can't stay here forever.”

“Spencer, I can't go home. My apartment is a crime scene, I almost died there, and there are reporters posted there 247 waiting for me to come back. They think I'm evil, they-” 

“They think you're a victim,” he said calmly but firmly, cutting you off before you could spiral again. “Which you are. And you'll be a victim forever if you don't get out of that hospital bed and start moving on.” 

He dumped a bag on your bed, a bag you recognised as one of your own overnight bags from your apartment. He looked at you again, the question in his silence. 

Are you going to keep being his victim?

You huffed as you got out of your bed, throwing off the covers and standing in front of him. He didn't budge. 

“Well?” You asked, looking at him as he stood still, not moving even an inch. 

“Well, what?” He replied, eyebrows knitting. 

Instead of replying, you rolled your eyes and reached behind you to the ties in your hospital gown, opening it until you could pull it off your body before pulling out the clothes he'd left in the bag. 

You didn't glance at him again until you were fully naked, readying your underwear so you could pull it on. When you turned back to him, his gaze knocked the wind out of you. 

You'd stopped feeling like a woman the minute he'd carried out of that room. You were a child, a fragile doll, a specimen to be studied. For some of the nurses, you were an infection they could catch. 

Spencer Reid, against his better judgment, was looking at you like you were a woman. Like you were the object of his every desire. 

“S-Spencer…” you said suddenly feeling the shame and embarrassment of being naked suddenly in front of another person. You pulled the sweatshirt he'd packed you over your torso, covering all of your intimate areas as you stammered out your apology. 

“I- shit, I'm sorry-”

“I'll wait - I’ll wait outside. If you need anything you can… you can do whatever.” He said, dragging his eyes off of your body and letting them fall anywhere that you weren't. His eyes darted from the floor to the wall, to the air next to your head and finally to the door where he took himself out. 

You dressed in a hurry and followed him. 

“Spencer? Spencer, I'm ready,” you said, running down the hall to him and grabbing his arm, holding it for support and comfort, but mostly just to be close. 

Since waking up from that first sedation of many in those first few days, you hadn't been more than a few hours without having him hold you. 

His team had sent many warning looks watching you wrapped around him like a scared child, hiding behind him like a small, shaking dog. You hadn't seen a problem in it, truly clinging to him like a lifeline. 

After whatever the hell had just happened in your hospital room, though? Now you felt each solid ridge of him. You hadn't felt like a woman, sure  but you equally hadn't acknowledged Spencer as a man until then. A very attractive man. 

The stubble on his jaw only made it sharper. His gentle, curving eyes, cut at the corners by the start of laugh lines, his mouth straight and… and kissable. For the first time in months, definitely for the first time since you'd met your monster, maybe even for the first time ever, desire heated the depths of your stomach. 

Your breath hitched, and you held him tighter as he led you out of the ward and ushered you into your new life. 

“We're not going to your apartment. Your landlord released you from the lease for…obvious reasons after some persuading. Your parents-” 

“My parents?” You asked in disgusting, halting in the hall. For the first time since you'd left the room, he had to turn and look you in the eyes. He'd done his best to dampen the desire, but some part of you still recognised it, even as your logical brain fought to be heard. 

“Your parents agreed to fund three months in a new apartment. After which time, you will have a job and some stability, so you'll be able to pay for it yourself.”

You tried to argue and tried to talk back, but your tongue was thick. 

A new apartment. Living alone, being alone, for any amount of time, felt daunting. 

But Spencer took one more step towards the door and then another, and you had no choice but to walk with him, hand slipping down and grasping his like it was your lifeline. 

The drive to whatever new apartment your parents had leased for you was silent, and the storms in your head grew until they'd taken up so much space they erupted forth, darkening the actual skies. A crash of thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance just as he pulled into the building. Luckily for you, there was underground parking, so you didn't even need to contemplate letting the lightning hit you. 

There was one space left, and Spencer pulled his car in, flipping the engine off and getting out without another word. 

He led you up the stairs, then he led you to your floor, then he led you to your door and handed you the keys. 

You felt cold as you opened the doors, knowing you were about to confront items of boxes that had watched you be burned, cut, slapped, beaten.

There were no boxes behind the door. Everything had, to your shock, been unboxed and staged already. 

You recognised magnets on the fridge, stuffed animals on the bed when you made your way to your bedroom. Your toiletries were neatly tidied into your medicine cabinet, hell, even your bookshelves had your own dog-eared copies of books well past their prime. 

You had every comfort and joy without having to push yourself through the pain of thinking about where these items had last been kept. 

There were new things too. The couch was definitely second-hand, but it wasn't the one you'd brought at Goodwill the week after your college graduation. That one was stained red, no doubt, somewhere in a tip. There was bedding and sheets and blankets and plates and forks and knives - a whole household of items that someone had chosen. 

You turned back to Spencer and cried. You buried your face in his chest and wrapped yourself around him again as he held you. 

And then, realizing he'd been the one to orchestrate this, if not the one who had arranged everything himself, you pushed up on the balls of your feet, and you kissed him. 

For the few seconds it lasted, it was brilliance. The pressure on your lips after a second had your heart singing as he kissed you back, your hands balling into his shirt as you stepped closer and closer, needing to be wrapped around him, buried in safety and warmth. 

He pulled back and stepped out of your reach too quickly, the back of his hand reaching up to his mouth as if checking that it was still there, that he'd actually just been kissing you back. 

“Y/N, you don't…we can't do that.” 

“Do what?” You said, creeping forward, needing to feel him beside you again. 

“You're not… you don't feel about me the way you think you feel about me,” he said, pushing your hair behind your ear as you wrapped your arms around his waist again. 

“How do I feel?” 

“Grateful. Y/N, this is gratitude. I saved you, and so you think you are in love with me. It's called transference, and you will deeply, deeply regret this one day.” 

The urgency in his tone had you flinching, even if he was trying to talk to you as softly as possible. For a moment, you'd done as he'd asked and forgotten you were a victim. It was apparently something he himself would not forget anytime soon.

You stood around awkwardly for another minute or two. 

“What…what now?” You asked, avoiding the kiss and whatever lay in that direction.

“I'll walk you through the emergency contact numbers. The apartment building is pretty old, so there's a wall phone in the kitchen, but there are some modern amenities, too. The laundry room is on the first floor, next to the porters office. I'm in apartment 23 on the second floor, and-” 

“What?” Your entire body buzzed, hearing him speak, and you almost forgot to breathe, rushing to stand straight again.

“I… I live on the floor below,” he said, almost cautiously now that you'd thrown yourself at him. “I thought you might enjoy the company.”

He gave you a weak smile and you wanted to kiss him all over again, to press your lips again and again into the soft flesh of his skin, his lips, his nose, his cheeks, his neck, his chest. 

You wanted him to hold you. You stood by the sofa and let your grip on a cushion tighten to stop from throwing yourself at him again. One rejection was enough for the day. 

Not that you stopped in the weeks to come. 

Spencer had himself relegated to office work for the first month as you rode out the waves of your grief, sticking by his side for comfort.

Your friends came and went, but they wore the stench of ‘I told you so’ and ‘I saw that coming,’ and you suffocated on it after so long. 

Every day after he returned home, you arrived at him door and threw yourself into his open arms, sitting with him for hours. Most days, you read together, ignoring that the man flipped pages three times as fast as you did. Some nights, you watched shows or movies, making your way through three companions worth of “New Who” in a week.

Each time you came, he took care of your food, ordering or cooking simple pasta dishes for you. 

He told you about the time his coworker had taught him how to make the perfect pasta, berating him for putting oil in his pasta water, and damn near drawing his weapon while he made sure he salted it. 

You laughed together and ate together, and you forgot together. 

Your life was back to normal when you got your first job interview. It's nothing spectacular, but it was enough that it would pay the bills to the apartment whose lease is a ticking bomb counting down to 0. It was a normal office, where you would be doing normal work that you had absolutely done before. 

The interview was normal, the female employee that meets you first reassuring you that the company is safe, their employees vetted and supported. 

And the company makes feminine hygiene products anyway, so they don't attract too many men, or at least none like the monster you'd known. 

All in all, the interview went well. 

It went well all the way until you reached the bus stop. You felt eyes on you, watching your movements, but you couldn't see anyone else focusing on you particularly.

You felt the stares on the bus, and the stares when you got off the bus two stops early. You felt the stares walking around the block three times to throw whatever was following you around off your track. You felt the stares as you sat outside Spencer's apartment until 6:45pm, when he came home and found you there. Your interview had been at 1pm.

“Y/N, what's wrong?” He said, immediately holding you and guiding you into the apartment. 

Your anxiety and fear had settled into self-loathing and disappointment. You let him hold you quietly, rejecting food and conversation. 

You sat quietly with him on his sofa as he held a book in one hand, stroking your hair with another as you laid on his chest. 

The emotions of the day were overwhelming, consuming the part of your brain that had started being happy again for the first time. You grew angry at the sadness for seeping back in, and in an act of rebellion, you pushed back up and kissed Spencer once more. 

His brain was slower to react this time, even if his body wasn't. 

You straddled his hips as your lips joined his, melting together in a hot embrace. He dropped his book quickly, hand resting on your hip as the one that had been stroking your hair angled your jaw up so he could set the pace. 

All your emotions were swept away in a wave of desire as you slowly rubbed against him, butt shifting as you clumsily followed your arousal past your worldly knowledge. 

You couldn't even think about what was next because your tongue was clashing with Spencer's, and your brain was short circuiting. 

The second you let out your first whimper of pleasure, he pushed you away and stood up, crossing the room to put distance between you, just as he had a month beforr. 

“Y/N, you had a bad day, but this isn't… This isn't how you should make yourself feel better.” 

“Spencer-” 

“I told you about transference before, Y/N, you need to listen to me. I'm not… I'm not the one for you.” His voice shook as he ran his hands through his hair in stress, body tense in a way that informed you he was holding himself back. 

“Transference. Transference…” You sat upright on his couch and let all the logic rush back into your brain at once. 

“Y/N?” He asked, voice shaking as he watched you zone out of the conversation, almost afraid that he'd damaged you again. 

“Is there… Is there something wrong with transference?” You asked, voice impossibly calm as you still stared straight forward. 

He moved towards you again and knelt at the floor in front of you, clutching your hands in his. 

“Y/N, you don't really want me like that, you don't, you can't-”

“Love you?” You asked, your voice finally breaking, eyes finally meeting his.

It was as if you knocked the wind out of him. He sat there completely dumbstruck. 

“It might not be love, okay, I'll admit that. But you're… you're strong and smart, and you take care of me. And you're attractive, and you make me happy, which is something I didn't think I'd ever be again-” 

“Y/N, something happened to you today, and you threw yourself at me. You threw yourself at me when you moved into your apartment. You felt stressed, and you reacted, Y/N. You don't love me.”

You sat calmly listening to his words again, your body still aching for his touch, your heart still pounding in your chest. 

“Okay. Okay. So if I do…this when I'm not feeling vulnerable, then what? Then you'll believe me?” 

“Y/N…” he sighed in defeat, hand again raking through his hair. 

You grabbed your things and stood up off the couch, bending to press another kiss to his lips before you parted. 

He was shocked silent, but that didn't stop him from chasing your lips as you rose, rising to his knees and then his feet as you walked away from him.

“I'll see you tomorrow, Spencer. Get some sleep,” you said, letting yourself out or the apartment and carrying yourself, heavy and dejected, upstairs. 

If Spencer was anticipating seeing you again the next morning, he wasn't anticipating seeing you in his office.

“Spencer,” you called out as you walked into the bullpen, clipping your visitors badge into place again, making sure it wasn't crooked.

Immediately, he stood from his desk and rose to meet you, ignoring the looks from his coworkers as his hands landed on your arms, immediately checking on you. 

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” He whispered, checking for tears, or injuries, or something to show him your motive for seeking him out. 

You just smiled at him, brushing a hair behind your ear when you saw him hesitate making that same gesture. 

“I was summoned. They need my statement to corroborate your weapon discharge paperwork, and Agent Hotchner called earlier.” 

His hands dropped as he breathed a steady sigh of relief, trying to make his reaction smaller than he knew it was. He was afraid something had happened to you again, and he was so caught up in his relief, that he didn't notice you moving closer until your lips were on his cheek and you were waving him off as you ascended the stairs to Hotch's office with your escort. 

“Spencer,” Morgan's voice called from behind him, and he turned hesitantly. 

“What was that?” 

He felt the eyes on him, and he pushed all thoughts of you to the side in place of total rationality. 

“I explained transference to her but… she doesn't seem to - she doesn't care.” 

“Spencer the last time I saw that girl, she was practically the walking dead. She just smiled.” Morgan said, shaking his head. But Spencer was watching you, and not his friend, and really, he wasn't even listening.

“Spencer? Spencer?” Morgan said again, rising to get in the man's face some more until he finally looked at him again. 

“She thinks she's in love with me.” 

“How do you know she isn't?” 

You kept working on him, little by little, day by day, until Spencer's field work started again. 

A little part of you was sad that he wouldn't always be around every day anymore. But you'd got that job and got over yourself as you started going out more. You made friends at your office, and you went out and laughed and joked with old college roommates. You felt like a human being again, and to no one's surprise, you still wanted Spencer Reid. 

He left every Monday on a case, and by the time Wednesday rolled around, you missed him. Going out to drinks with some coworkers after clocking off certainly didn't sate your appetite for him. 

“Spencer,” you said, breathily into the phone when he picked up, throwing yourself onto your bed. 

“Y/N, what happened? Is everything alright? Do you need me to come back?”

“No, Spencer, I just-” you hiccupped and giggled before continuing. “I just missed you so much.” 

The silence on the line was suddenly so funny to you, and you giggled again. Feeling hot, you stripped down to your underwear and started talking again. 

“I miss cuddling up to you and crawling all over you. You're really soft, you know?” You sighed, hands trailing up and down your stomach lightly. 

“Y/N,” he said in a warning tone. 

“I miss your face. I'm switching to video call,” you announced and fumbled with your phone. 

“No, Y/N, wait-” he said, but pulling the phone away from his ears, he realized his protests were too late to matter as he took in your half-naked form. 

Though your face took up the majority of the view on the camera, he could see the soft trim of your lace bra poking into the camera, and the generous push of cleavage your angle facilitated to boot. 

Checking around him for people looking, he tucked himself into a corner and scowled back at you. 

“Y/N, this isn't a game. Turn the call off and go to bed.” 

“But I miss you,” you whined. 

“Y/N,” he hissed, eyes falling to your hands where you'd begun massaging your heavy breasts. 

“When are you coming home?” You asked, whining again like a petulant child as the alcohol flushed through your system, bringing all of your desires to the forefront. 

“Soon,” he said, not trusting himself to say more than a word. 

“Good. Because I miss you. Spencer, I- I think I want to have sex with you.” 

His eyes shut as he tried to remain calm even as your words rang in his ears from 1000 miles away.

“We'll talk soon, Y/N. Good night,” he closed, finally hanging up and covering his face in his hands. He made his way quickly to his motel room, threw his phone down on his bed, and ignored as best he could his throbbing cock in his pants and the three pictures you'd sent him since he hung up. 

He didn't resist for long. 

Three nights later, you found yourself at a bar, living life to the fullest. You'd taken back to society like a swan to water, and you weren't letting the stern words of Spencer Reid keep you down. Knocking back another shot, you smiled and cheered with your friends until you felt the eyes on you again. It was different this time, though, hotter, and closer. You turned to look at the door and saw Spencer Reid and the other people who'd saved your life walking to a booth. It was Spencer's eyes on you. 

You definitely did not believe in a higher power - how could you, after all - but you did believe that this was fate. 

You blew him a kiss as he watched you walk back to your table with another cocktail in hand, letting a man who'd been trying to flirt with you earlier follow you to your friends. 

When you went for your next drink, you found him at your side in a heartbeat. 

“I'm not checking up on you,” he said, even though he was. “I'm ordering a drink.” 

“Two drinks,” you said, shooting him a flirty smile as you pressed yourself against him again, chest to chest. 

“You're ordering two drinks, Spencer,” you whispered into his ears as his head dropped down to within an inch of your own. The air felt changed, but you refused to move to close the gap. You'd put in the work the last few times. You needed Spencer to be the one to take the chance this time. 

He ordered your drinks, and still you didn't move apart, huddled together as if you were whispering conspiracies to one another. 

When your drink was firmly in your hand, he grabbed your wrist and led you to a dark corner of the bar. You sipped your drink quickly, managing two swigs before he took it and placed both drinks down - right beside Penelope Garcia - and dragged you out into the hall. 

The bathrooms were empty when he pushed you inside, and your heart throbbed as his hands pushed you into a stall, lifted your legs to wrap around him, and then his lips finally crashed into yours. 

Transference or whatever else it was supposed to be, you didn't give one shit in that moment as his tongue coaxed your lips apart.

His hands didn't stay in place for long as he dragged them up and down your body, exploring every part he'd memorized from the pictures. Every curve or inch he'd previously held tenderly, gently, he now raked over with the hunger of arousal, pushing your short skirt up until it was past your hips and his fingers could sink into you instead. 

You were soaked before he even had one digit inside you, his thumb rubbing roughly against your clit as you turned to jelly in his hands. 

You'd masturbated before, sure, you were a grown woman. But the feeling of someone else's hands, someone else's hest, the knowledge that someone else desired you so badly that they'd drag you into a bar bathroom just to sate their lust? That was new, and it was exciting. 

His lips covered yours as your legs shook, silencing every moan, every whimper with his tongue. It was wild, messy, your tongues clashing wildly and messily as your hips rocked violently, trying to reach that high, but also trying to make this last past his fingers. 

It wasn't to be though as you shuddered around his three digits, your orgasm ripping through you silently, leaving you wide-eyed and wide mouthed. 

“We're done,” he said, gently kissing your cheek as be stood you up, letting you stretch out the soreness in your muscles. 

“For now?” 

“Forever, Y/N. This was a mistake.”

Your heart hit the ground, and he stomped on it, but the anger filling your gut pushed up and out before he could completely bow out. 

“No,” you ground out through gritted teeth. 

“Y/N, you aren't in love with me. You feel grateful that I saved you, you feel attracted to me because I'm older and you think I can protect you, and a little part of it is that you've always been attracted to men who are dangerous. You're not in love with me, so-” 

“You sound like him.”

Shocked, he paused, and his grip on your hips tightened until his nails were biting into your skin. 

“What?” 

“You're telling me how to feel, you're telling me what to do. You sound like him.” 

“Y/N, that is unfair-” 

“Unfair is denying that I'd know how I'm fucking feeling to let you wallow in self sacrifice, Spencer. Unfair is playing the martyr when we can both see that you want this as fucking badly as I do.” 

You didn't give him a second longer to react, but grabbed him by the wrist and, making sure your skirt was once again in place, pulled him back out of the bathroom and into the club. 

Stopping by Penelope, you put his drink in his hand and grabbed yours, downing it quickly. He followed your actions, taking a sip until you were done and slamming your drink back on the table. 

Then you kept him moving, pushing doors open, hailing a cab, and climbing in with him hot on your heels.

You kept your grip on him tight until you'd marched him to his apartment. Releasing him, you flattened your back against his door, letting him slowly unlock the door as you spoke to him again finally.

“Do it, Spencer. Be my first.” 

It was like he was a different man walking over that threshold. His hand were on your face, his tongue again fighting yours as you stumbled back into the apartment, crashing into the wall, then the coffee table, and then the couch. 

You cursed in anger hitting his closed bedroom door and pushed him away to open it yourself, but his arms wrapped around you from the back and he sucked bruises against your neck as his hands grabbed your breasts and squeezed them.

His cock was rigid in his pants, and your body ached for the unknown, the soon to come pleasure that he was to deliver. 

He pushed you down onto the bed quickly, and you rolled yourself over, pulling your own dress off as quickly as possible. 

“That's my job,” he moaned, meeting your lips again as his hands fell to your underwear once again. 

“You have a long to-do list, Spencer, I'm just helping,” you smirked as he kissed you again, your hands shakily working down each button of his shirt as you acted to tear it off of him. 

“We have all night,” he replied, fingers once again rubbing at your bundle of nerves, hips pushing up and into his hands. 

“No, Spencer. No, we don't. I need you now.” 

His mouth covered yours again as you finally, finally got his shirt off, letting him throw it to the floor as you started working on his belt. Your legs spread as he inched closer, sitting between your thighs comfortably as he waited with bated breath for you to finally touch his cock.  

You knew what dicks looked like, you knew what they were supposed to feel like, but you never realised you'd want to touch one so fucking badly until his sprung from his pants. 

He took your hand and spit in it before you wrapped your fingers around him and felt the heat of his cock pulsing against you. 

He was big, long more than girthy, and you wondered how thousands of years of women had managed to survive coupling if this was the weapon meant to numb them into horny submission. 

One stroke, and you were a mess, his fingers hooking into you as you flicked your wrist up and down. 

You watched his precum rise and swiped it up in one finger, tasting it as he groaned and started thrusting up, fucking your hand as he scissored his fingers inside of you. 

He stretched you out, readying you for his thick cock, and you gladly sat there, letting him use you and ready you all at once. 

When you were ready, he wrapped his arms around you again, lifting you onto the bed properly and laying you down softly in the sheets. Kneeling to roll on the condom he'd grabbed from his bedside table, you watched in curiosity as you tried to memorize every movement, every second of him sinking into you. 

The tears in your eyes were emotion just as much as pain, your heart hammering in your ears as he whispered praise into your ear, dropping confessions like bombs. 

“You're taking me so well, Y/N, that's good…” he moaned, pushing in one inch. 

“That's it, Y/N, just a little more. I love you, you can do it,” he said, sinking in two more. 

“You feel so good, Y/N, made just for me,” he said as he finally hit your limit. 

You knew the stretch wasn't the end, and he rested there for a second, letting you get used to him before you lost patience with him. 

“Spencer just, just push through,” you grit out, and he did, snapping his hips up just that.inch or two more and sending that spark of pain through you. 

In an instant, his lips were on yours, his fingers on your clit, flooding your nerves with pleasure as all you could think of was the pain. 

But when the pain faded, there was still him, and his cock neatly sheathed inside of you. 

His hips moved languidly at first, his entire body weight pushing down on you, lazily twisting and writhing as of this were just one of your cuddles on the couch. 

You whimpered, and he moved faster, and you learnt quickly that your noises and sighs to him were what his praise was to you - motivation.

You moaned, and he picked up his pace, moving faster as you whimpered a lustful ‘yes’ into his ear. 

“Good girl, good girl, Y/N, that's it. Good girl,” he repeated, unable to say more as you whimpered and cried under him, speech lost as he split you in half with his dick.

You grew louder, and his cock buried itself deeper, your moans dragged on longer and he picked up speed. 

He whispered that you were his perfect little slut, and you jolted in his arms, cumming on his cock and screaming his name. 

He kept pumping into you, careful to make sure the condom stayed in place as he finally bottomed out and let pleasure roll through him again.

Coming down from his high, your tongue pushed into his mouth, and you rolled him over, sitting yp on his dick as he watched. 

You rose off his cock, letting him stare in wonder as your own arousal dripped off of your skin, his cock coated in arousal, and spit from his fingers and, yes, a little bit of blood. 

You crawled back and peeled off the condom, tying It quickly and discarding it before you tasted his cum quickly. 

It was just a soft lick, but it had him declaring his love for you again, and you decided that there were very few things you wouldn't do to hear those words. 

As delightful as your lips felt, though, he quickly bundled you up and forced you to the bathroom, turning on the taps in the bath and placing you on the toilet before leaving. 

Even now, after everything, he was still taking care of you. Maybe especially now. 

You finished, and he came back. More stolen kisses and moans and a bath that turned into more later, and you found yourself bundled into his spare clothes and wrapped in his arms on his couch again. 

He clicked play on another episode of Doctor Who (you'd finally reached Donna, and he was excitedly introducing you to the new character), and you finally looked up at him again.

“I love you,” you said again, loudly this time, with no fear. 

Though his training told him the response he should give, Spencer just looked down at you again and gave in to his heart. 

“I love you, too.” 

You fell asleep quickly after that, head resting over his heart, the sound of the steady beats lulling you to sleep. 

[jwnzlvr]

dreamin’ bout you

kinktober 2024 !! day four : wet dreams

pairing : kamo choso x fem!reader

summary : what does choso do when he’s sick of having wet dreams about you and not being able to get the real thing? we answer that in this fic!

wc : 340+

warning : SMUT (mdni), mentions of masturbation, p in v, subby!choso for a split second tbh, not proofread

notes : chosochospccjosochoso LOVEEEEEE HIM i will always go back to u pookums shookums also i went to my ex situationships house today his mom loves me but holy shit yall ever have a rly bad moment of weakness? i wrote this choso fic to cope. like on the spot. sorry yall enjoy

this has been happening for way too long.

images of you flash through choso’s mind. when he sleeps, all he sees is you. whether he’s kissing you or fucking you, it’s just you.

it always leads to him fisting himself stupid. he doesn’t stop until he feels like his dick is really about to burst and not in a good way. you’re just so damn addicting to him. he needs the real thing. he needs you.

maybe he shouldn’t have called you so late at night. he thought it wasn’t the best idea to call and say that he needed you urgently. that he’d die if you weren’t on his dick. but you definitely weren’t any better for going along with it.

“you need me that bad? really? maybe i should just let you take care of it on your own.” you’d teased him with a laugh. that led to him immediately begging and whining for you to stop fucking around. for you to come over and just do him a favor. just this time.

and that’s what led to you on his bed, letting him plow into you. he had his hands on your thighs to keep them apart. his cock pistoned in and out of you, throwing you for a fucking spin. choso’s moans along with your own mixed in the silence of the night.

he couldn’t believe he was finally acting out his dreams. he finally got what he wanted: your pussy. “thank you- fuck… thank you so much…” he moaned out, his head hung from how fucked out he was. his sharp eyes focused on the way you sucked him in.

you couldn’t even respond to him from how intense everything felt. for a half curse, he definitely fucked a lot better than any human you’d been with. you chalked it up to his desperation. he reached the deepest parts of you, making you writhe under him in pleasure.

“you should dream about me more often.” you stuttered through whimpers and choso’s harsh thrusts. and honestly? choso couldn’t agree more.

➯ kinktober 2024 m.list

➯ taglist : @d-dilemma (comment or msg to be added !)

[keeryhours]

meet the parents - eddie munson

Eddie Munson x female! reader

Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

2024 Promptmas Masterlist

Summary:

Eddie meets your parents on Christmas Eve in the worst way possible.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), p in v, exhibitionism?, reader’s parents walk in on them

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N:

My third fic for The Twelve Days of Promptmas event by @littlexdeaths ! Just a short little smutty one today :) Prompt: “Meet the parents…with a twist”

—

“You’re sure your parents won’t be home?” Eddie asked, nervous as he tiptoed into your living room, as if your mom or dad might pop out and scare him at any moment.

“Yes I’m sure, they’re at their company Christmas party,” you told your boyfriend, waving off his concerns. Your parents always spent forever at these company parties, and usually showed up back home much later and completely drunk. “They’ll be entertained for a while, believe me.”

It was Christmas Eve and the snow was falling heavily outside as you both sheltered in the warm house, closing the door behind the both of you. Eddie was supposed to come over for dinner tomorrow to meet them, anyway. “Plus, I know my parents are gonna love you. They’re chill.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I want to meet them while I’m doing the things I’m about to do to you,” Eddie teased, wrapping his arms around your middle and lifting you off the ground, causing you to squeal and kick your feet wildly.

“Oh my god, put me down,” you said through your laughter as Eddie tickled you, but he ignored your cries, carrying you to the couch and dropping you down on the soft material.

“You look so hot in that sweater with that cute little skirt,” Eddie hummed as he leaned over you, capturing your lips in a kiss. You kissed him back eagerly, arms sliding around his neck as you pulled him down over you.

Eddie peppered kisses along your jaw and down your neck, then he was moving down to push your sweater up and kissing up the soft skin of your stomach. “So beautiful,” he praised, pushing your sweater up until you were leaning forward to help him remove it entirely.

You pulled at his Hellfire t-shirt, and Eddie slid his leather jacket off his shoulders before pulling the shirt off. You admired his shirtless chest, hands trailing over his body. “After your present early, princess?” He asked.

“We can’t have sex on the couch,” you said with a giggle, half heartedly pushing at Eddie’s chest.

“Aw, come on, just a quickie?” He asked, burying his face into your tits and covering them in sloppy kisses. “Like you said, your parents won’t be back for a while.”

You thought about it - he was right, you were in the clear, and the thought of it was exciting. “Just a quickie.”

Eddie muttered a triumphant “Yes!” before he was pushing your skirt up, sitting up on his knees to unbuckle his belt and undo his jeans.

“Eager?” you teased, watching as his fingers fumbled with the button in his excitement.

“Fuck yes,” he huffed a laugh as he finally got them undone, pushing his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his already rock hard cock. “I’ve got my pretty girl all spread out for me, letting me fuck her out here where anyone could see us? It’s a dream come true.”

“No one’s gonna catch us,” you reminded him. If you thought they might, you wouldn’t be doing this. Honestly.

“Just pretend with me, baby,” Eddie said, pulling your panties down your legs slowly, watching as he uncovered you for his hungry eyes. “I like the danger.”

You laughed, watching Eddie pull a condom out of his wallet in his back pocket. He ripped it open, sliding it over his length. “You ready for me, princess?”

You nodded as Eddie lined himself up, before pushing into you with a low groan. “Fuck, baby, always so tight.”

You moaned as Eddie filled you, pushing in until he was fully seated inside of you, his face buried in your neck to hide his pitchy moans as he began thrusting into you. You dug your nails into his back, and he hissed at the pain - but he loved when you marked him up just as much as he loved doing it to you.

“No visible marks tonight,” you reminded him just as he started sucking at your neck. “I have to do Christmas with my whole family tomorrow.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Eddie said, moving down to suck at the skin on top of your breasts instead. He was determined to mark you one way or another. “I just like seeing you wearing the proof of what I did to you.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, helping him thrust even deeper into your tight pussy. “Feels so good Eds, you always feel so fucking good.”

“Yeah, princess?” He asked, loving when you praised him like that. “I make you feel that good?”

“So so so good, Eddie,” you moaned. He was fucking you just right, just hard and fast enough to be perfect.

He was fucking you so good that neither of you noticed the car headlights pulling up in the driveway outside the front window. You almost didn’t even notice the front door opening, until you heard it slam the way your dad always did.

“Oh shit!”

Eddie was totally oblivious. “Yeah, me too baby, feels so fucking good-“

He was cut off by a loud shriek as your mom caught sight of what was going on on her living room couch. You thought your dad was going to have a heart attack, his face turned bright red as he searched for something, anything to say.

Eddie’s head whipped around, and he muttered an “oh, fuck,” as he quickly pulled out of you, pulling his jeans back up and tossing his shirt over your body to cover you.

“Um, uh, nice to meet you, I’m Eddie,” he finally said, standing up from the couch shirtless with his belt buckle still hanging undone. He went all out, hitting them with the “Mr. and Mrs.”, even though he fumbled and said your first name instead of your last name the first attempt.

Your parents were in shock. You quickly pulled Eddie’s t-shirt over your head and your skirt back down as everyone stood around awkwardly.

Finally, your dad spoke up. “Eddie, get out.”

Eddie nodded - “Yes, sir-“ then he was grabbing his van keys and kissing the top of your head. “See you tomorrow, princess.” He turned back to your parents. “Nice to meet you!” Then he was sprinting from the house, nearly knocking over the Christmas tree and leaving his shirt behind.

You sat there, unsure what move to make as your parents looked at you, disappointed.

“We’ll talk about this later tonight,” your dad promised - you didn’t like the sound of that at all.

“Yes, sir,” you agreed, gathering up your discarded shirt and panties from the floor as you stood to go back to your own room (and hide for the rest of your life).

Your dad watched as you went. Out of the corner of your eye you caught your mom walking out of the room, shaking her head.

“Really, on the new couch?”

[moonchild9350]

Well That Was Fun

Summary: Felix finally gets a much needed day off and plans to build his new PC alone. What he gets is much better instead...you.

Pairing: idol Felix x fem. reader

Genre: fluff, smut- This is a 18+ fic sooo MDNI

Word count: 4081

Warnings: cursing, oral sex male and female receiving, soft dom Felix, dirty talk, p in v penetration, creampie (wrap it up folks). I think thats it...

Note: Felix has been plaguing my mind recently lol. I had to write something about mr. sunshine! I hope you enjoy. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. Let me know what you think!

This is in no way how Felix is in reality. This is solely for fun.

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

Tomorrow is Felix’s day off.  He had been busier than usual lately due to extra photoshoots and events that he had to attend on top of his usual company activities.  But the company finally allowed him a day off and you were ecstatic.  You had requested that day off right away when he told you after coming home late one day, hoping to spend some time with your boyfriend, not sure yet what you guys will do, but that could wait for a little.  However, you didn’t tell him that you were approved to be off that day wanting to surprise him.  

Felix was happy to finally have a day off.  He had been feeling really run down and tired and just needed a day of rest, being home, wearing comfortable clothes, not having to worry about schedules and calls, and of course being able to finally spend some time with you.  He was also excited because he would be able to finally build his new PC that he ordered a while back and never got to build due to work.  Felix had a full day today, with last minute run-throughs of their routines for an upcoming award show.  The boys were taking a much needed 30 minute break.  

Felix walked over to Jeongin who was sitting on the couch with his legs propped up on Seungmin.  “Guess what?” he asked Jeongin.  “Since I have tomorrow off, I’m finally going to be able to build my new PC.” 

Jeongin’s face lit up.  “Really? Finally! That box has been sitting in the common room for ages.! I can’t wait until you finish it.  You’ll have to let me play a session on it when it’s finished.”

Felix nodded and agreed to the maknae’s demands.  Jeongin then asked, “Since you have the day off, will y/n be over?”

Felix considered this and replied, “I don’t think so.  I believe she told me she had to work.  She’s going to come over after work though.”  Felix did tell you about his day off.  He was a little sad you wouldn’t be able to spend the whole day with him, but he understood.  You did have bills to pay after all, even though he has offered to help. 

Jeongin nodded.  “Aww that sucks hyung.  I’m sure she wishes she could be there all day, but at least she’ll be over later.”

“True” Felix replied.  Their conversation then came to a halt as the dance instructor walked back into the room, signaling break time was over and it was time to resume practice.

*************************************************************

The next morning, you awoke bright and early, excited to surprise your boyfriend.  You planned on bringing him his favorite tea and a pastry for a little breakfast in bed.  You got up and went to shower.  After you pulled on some leggings, a t- shirt, and your favorite sweatshirt, put on some light makeup, grabbed your bag and you were out the door.  Stopping at the cafe, you got an iced americano and a bagel for yourself and an iced matcha tea latte and chocolate croissant for Felix.  Sipping your iced americano, you made your way towards the boys dorm.  Once you arrived, you knocked on the door and Minho answered.

“Morning y/n, I’m surprised you’re here so early.  Felix told us he thought you weren’t going to be here until after your shift.”  Minho greeted you at the door, with a toothbrush in his hand.  It seemed like he was getting ready to go to the building.  

“Morning and I got the day off! I thought I would surprise Felix.  Seems like it worked,” you chuckled.  “I brought some breakfast for him too,” you responded excitedly, bouncing on your toes.  Minho giggled at your excitement and moved to let you in.  

“I think he’s still asleep, but you know your way around so I’ll leave you to it.  I have to finish getting ready anyway.” 

You giggled back and said, “Ok! Thanks Minho.  Have a great day at practice,” and made your way to Felix’s room.  

You quietly opened his door and found him sprawled out in his bed buried under the covers.  He was snoring quietly and snuggling his penguin squishy.  You couldn’t help but smile at the peaceful look on his face, happy that he could finally rest.  You tiptoed over to his bed to put the iced matcha tea latte and chocolate croissant on the bedside table.  Carefully you crawled under the covers and wrapped your arms around Felix’s waist.  For a moment, you looked at his sleeping face.  You lightly brushed your fingers over his freckles which you loved.  Felix grumbled slightly at this and peeked his eyes open.  When he realized who it was, he dropped the penguin squishy and wrapped his arms around you to snuggle you into your body.  

“Baby?” Felix mumbled, deep voice heavy with sleep.  He pulled you even closer and dropped his head into your neck.  He placed a wet kiss behind your ear.  You smiled and ran your fingers through his long blond hair and kissed his nose.  

“Good morning baby,” you replied.  You then proceeded to place kisses all over his face, making sure to place extra kisses over his freckles.  Felix laughed and scrunched up his face at your actions. 

“I have a surprise for you Lixie!” 

“What is it babe?” asked Felix.  He loved your little surprises as you would get really excited and you would get this glimmer in your eyes.  Sometimes, like today, he knew what the surprise was but he played along since you were so happy.

“I brought you breakfast, an iced matcha tea latte and a chocolate croissant, your favorite!” 

Felix’s eyes fully opened at your statement, “Really? Ugh you’re the best girlfriend.”  

You both sat up and you grabbed his food and drink and handed it to him.  Felix graciously accepted the food and drink and started eating right away.  “This is amazing, thank you so much baby.” 

“You’re welcome,” you giggled and brushed some crumbs off his face.  After finishing his food, he pulled you in close and wrapped his arm around your waist.  You laid your head on his shoulder and asked what he wanted to do today.  

“I was thinking how about we stay in today?  My new PC came in weeks ago and so I was thinking about building it.  Would you like to help me build it?”

“Of course Lixie!” You would accept any of his ideas as long as you were together.  Felix squeezed your hip, gave you a peck on your head, and got up to go get ready for the day.  You lounged in his bed, snuggling under the warm covers.  You were scrolling on your phone when Felix came out of the bathroom.  

“Ready?” he asked as he pulled the boxes out of his closet. He was able to drag them in his room last night with the help of Minho hyung.

 “Let’s do this!” you said.  

You both sat on the floor as there was more space and started opening boxes, pulling out parts for the computer.  Felix played some Lofi on his speakers.  You both worked diligently.  You updated Felix on the drama that has been happening at work.  One of your coworker’s boyfriend came to work during her shift, begging for her to take him back.  You explained how your coworker denied her exe’s advances and eventually started yelling at the ex.  Afterwards, once the ex boyfriend left, with the help of the manager, she told you he was dick and a cheater and wouldn’t be caught dead with him again.  Felix listened intently and hummed as you talked, agreeing in the end with your coworker’s decision.  Felix updated you about his work and how they were preparing for an award show they would be attending at the end of the month.  

“We’re going to Japan for the show.  It’ll be fun and I’m happy we’re getting an award and getting to perform, but I'll miss you since I’ll be gone for a long time.” 

“Aww baby,” you replied, “I’ll miss you too! We’ll video message every day, don’t worry.”  

Felix hummed in agreement.  He looked at his phone to check the time and realized it was already late in the afternoon.

“Are you getting hungry?” Felix asked.

“Yeah, a little,” you responded.  “Can we get takeout?” 

“Of course, order whatever you want on my phone.  We’ll have it delivered.”

You picked up Felix’s phone, opened the delivery app, and selected a few items.  You both decided on fried chicken and tteokbokki.  As you waited on the food, you and Felix continued to work on the PC.  At this point, it was a little more than halfway done.  Felix was getting excited the closer he was to finishing the PC.  You chuckled at this, he looked so happy, and that made you happy.  

Once the food arrived, you grabbed plates and a few drinks from the refrigerator and walked back to Felix’s room.  You plated the food while Felix was picking out a show for you to watch while you ate.  There was comfortable silence as you ate, enjoying each other’s company and the food.  Once both of you were finished, you cleared the dishes.  When you came back, you sat back down on the floor with Felix to help him finish the PC.  

It didn’t take too much longer to finish the build and once you were done, you both sat back to admire your work.  “It looks great,” you said.

“It does huh? Good work team.” At that Felix turned and lifted his hand up for a high five.  You giggled at his cheesiness and gave him a high five back.  Felix smiled and then took his hand to grasp your face.  He looked into your eyes.  You could feel the love and gratitude radiating from him. 

“How did I get so lucky?” He whispered in his deep voice.  You saw his eyes flick down to your lips.  You couldn’t help yourself and caught yourself looking at his lips also.  Felix learned forward slowly to catch his lips on yours.  His soft lips touched yours and you sighed into the kiss, moving to sit in his lap and wrap your arms around his neck.  At this, Felix placed his hands on your waist to rub gentle circles on your skin. You sat there for a little, gently kissing Felix.  Moments passed and the kiss became urgent as you felt Felix swipe his tongue along your bottom lip seeking entrance. You granted him entrance with a moan.  With each passing second, the kiss got deeper.  You leaned back slightly to catch your breath, a trail of spit connecting you still to Felix’s lips.  You moved to straddle his hips and leaned your head against his and took a shaky breath.  

You leaned in once more to connect your lips with Felix’s. “Y/n,” Felix murmured against your lips.  You felt turned on with your little makeout session and felt your arousal leaking into your panties.  At this you squeezed your thighs together slightly to get a little friction.  Felix noticed this in between kisses and took a tighter hold on your hips and rolled them against his growing bulge.  You moaned with the movement as his covered cock caught your clit just right through your leggings.  

“Do that again Lixie,” you whispered on his lips.   You built up a rhythm, rocking your hips over Felix’s dick, gaining that sweet friction you needed on your clit.   Felix’s hands stayed on your waist, helping your movements.  With each rock, he groaned into your mouth, “It feels so good baby.”  Between your lips on his and your frantic movements over his clothed dick, he was getting closer to his release.

“Keep rocking baby,” he whispered on your lips.  “You can do it baby, you’re so close, I can tell.”

You whimpered at his words and sped up your movements.  Between the friction over your clit and Felix whispering praise in your ear, you felt yourself get closer to that sweet release you needed.  The pressure was quickly building up in your belly.

“Yes darling, yes. Be a good girl and cum for me.  Can you do that baby? Go on, let go, I’m right here.”  Those last few words were what you needed to cum.  

You whimpered Felix’s name over and over as your first orgasm of the night spread throughout your body, making your toes curl. You could feel your arousal seeping out in pooling in your panties, some getting on your thighs as you gave a last few thrusts of your hips along Felix’s clothed cock.   

Felix rubbed your back whispering “well done my love.” 

Your head fell down in the crook of Felix’s neck, breathing heavy as you came down from your high.  Felix kissed the top of your head and whispered how much he loved you over and over.  

Once you recovered, you looked into Felix’s eyes and reached down to rub his cock through his sweatpants. Felix groaned out as you continued to rub his bulge.  You reached into his sweatpants to pull his cock out.  It was on the longer side, not as girthy, but still the most beautiful cock you’ve ever seen.  His tip was red and angry looking with drops of pre-cum dripping from the slit.  You wrapped your hand around his shaft and gave a few gentle strokes, gathering the pre-cum that was leaking out to give more lubrication.  

“Fu..fuck baby,” Felix moaned out as you quickend your movements. You scooted down and brought your head down to his cock and gave one long lick up his shaft.  You then started suckling the tip,  licking up the pre-cum that was steadily leaking down his shaft.  You suckled the tip for a while, one hand stroking up and down his shaft, the other fondling his heavy balls. 

Felix’s eyes rolled to the back of his head with your movements. 

“Ohhh shit baby, I love your mouth, taking me so well baby.  Keep sucking, that’s it,”

 He slightly jerked his hips up, head kicked back in pleasure.  He looked down at you.  This was his favorite sight to see; you with his cock in your mouth.  His perfect baby, treating him so well. 

Felix started thrusting his hips, fucking your mouth.  With a particular thrust of his hips, his cock reached the back of your throat, causing you to gag.  You loosened your jaw and breathed through your nose to further take him.  

You loved when Felix would use your mouth like this, causing spit to dribble down your chin and tears to leak from your eyes.  You continued to suck his cock and seeing Felix’s legs tense up, you knew he was close.  

Felix couldn’t hold back anymore.  He grabbed your hair and pushed your head down as he came down your throat, loudly moaning your name.  You took it like the good girl you were, swallowing his cum once he was done.  He lifted your head up and wiped at the smudges of tears that were left on your face.  

“You’re absolutely perfect, my perfect girl,” Felix said as he gave you a kiss.  You hummed against his lips at his praise.   

“Let’s get a little more comfortable.  Let me take you to bed baby, ok?” Felix said.

You nodded your head ok and let Felix scoop you up from his lap.  He brought you to his bed and carefully laid you down.  Felix then took off his shirt and tossed it on the floor.  He climbed onto the bed to hover over you, pressing his lips to yours for a heated kiss.  

“Can I take this off of you baby?” Felix asked tugging on your sweatshirt.  You nodded yes and sat up slightly so Felix could pull your sweatshirt over your head.  He tossed the article of clothing onto the floor. You shivered slightly from the sudden exposure, but quickly warmed up as Felix leaned into you again to capture your lips with his. 

Felix took his hand and placed it on your breast, giving it a light squeeze.  You gasped at the sensation, your breasts being really sensitive.  He let go of your lips and placed wet kisses down your jaw, traveling to your neck.  He stopped to suckle and bite your skin where your neck meets your shoulder.  The pleasure you were feeling from Felix had you gasping and moaning as he continued to squeeze and roll your nipple with his fingers.  You then felt him bite down on your neck.  You gasped out at the sensation, feeling both pain and pleasure.  

Felix continued kissing his way down your body, stopping at your breasts.  Taking a nipple into his mouth, he began to suck, rolling the sensitive bud with his tongue.  He took his other hand and pinched your other nipple causing you to arch your back and release a loud moan.

“Lixie, please…Li..Lixie, I need you,” you whimpered as he continued to give attention to your breasts.  

He released your nipple with a pop and looked up at you.  “Where do you need me sweetheart?” 

You looked down at his face, smeared with his spit from sucking on your breast, and whimpered, “I need…I need your tongue Lixie.” 

“My baby needs my tongue,” he said, “Where do you want my tongue baby?”

You covered your face with your hands, not wanting to outright say it.  “No, no sweetheart,” Felix said as he pulled your hands down.  “Let me see your face as you tell me where you want my tongue.”

I…I want your tongue on my pussy Lixie.  Please? I’ve been a good girl,” you whimpered, giving Felix a pout.

Felix considered this and then chuckled saying,  “My baby has been good so I’ll let you have my tongue baby.”  

Felix reached down to remove your leggings and panties.  He then kissed the valley between your breasts, making his way down your body, kissing your tummy, your thighs, everywhere but where you wanted him most.  You squiremed under his touch as he was close to your core.  You could feel his breath as he kissed your thighs .  

Felix looked up at you one last time before licking a long strip from your entrance up to your clit.  You groaned loudly at the sensation, happy to have Felix where you wanted him.  He gave another lick before attaching his mouth to your clit and sucking the bud.  Your hands made their way to grip his blond hair as you began to rock your hips into his face.  Felix grasped your thighs to hold them closer to his face as he continued to lick, nip, and suck at your clit, licking up the arousal that was dribbling out of your pussy.  

All that was heard was your loud moans, and whimpers of Felix’s name and the occasional groan from Felix.  All too soon, you felt that pressure build up yet again, threatening to give way to your second orgasm of the night.  

“I’m, I’m close. I’m go-gonna cum. Oh my god I’m gonna cum. Don’t stop Lix,” you moaned out.  Felix did just that, he dug his face further into your pussy, smothering his face with your arousal.  You frantically rode Felix’s face and without warning, you felt the band in your belly contract as your release gushed out of you onto Felix’s face.  Felix continued his ministrations as you rode out your high, never slowing down.  Once you came down from your high, it became a little too much so you pushed at Felix’s head to get him to stop.  Felix let go of your thighs and lifted his head.  

“Hmmmm you taste so good sweetheart.”  Felix was licking all of your arousal off of lips.  

“Do you want a taste baby?”  You nodded your head and Felix leaned down to kiss you, tasting yourself on his lips. 

When Felix broke away from the kiss, he scooted closer to you to spread your legs wider for him to have better access.  You gripped your legs behind your knees to keep them open.

“Are you ready sweetheart?” He dragged his cock through your folds collecting your arousal.  You nodded your head, “Yes Lixie, please give me your cock.  I wanna be full of you.”

Felix grinned saying, “my baby gets what my baby wants.”  He pushed the tip in slowly, and then pulled it back out.  He repeated that motion again and again, fucking you with just the tip.  You felt good, but you needed more.  

“More, more, please give me your cock baby,” you whined.  Felix pushed the tip in once more, pulled out and then slid all the way in to the hilt.  You moaned with the stretch, more than ready to accommodate his cock in your aching pussy. More arousal pooled out of you, dripping down your cunt and down your ass.  Felix pushed in again, this time with more force.  He set a steady motion, his strokes fluid and deep, hitting those spots he knew you loved.  The sound of his balls slapping your ass with each thrust, your wet pussy, and loud moans were the only thing to be heard in the room.  You were drowning in pleasure as his cock filled you up, stretched you out just how you like it.  

Felix could feel you clenching around his cock, he knew you were close.  He pushed your legs further up your chest and threw them up around his shoulders, the new angle reaching deeper to help get you there.  

“Is my baby about to cum hmm? Are you gonna cum on my cock baby?”

You were barely able to make a coherent sentence lost in the bliss of Felix’s cock pounding into you.  Eventually you were able to mumble out ‘yes please.”  Felix grinned at your mumbling.  

“Whose cock is making you feel like this baby? Whose?” he asked.

“Yours, your cock baby, Lix’s cock.  Please let me cum, please, please, please!” You were so close and with Felix pounding deep into you, you knew it would be a matter of time before you would cum.  

“Such a good girl for me, hmm.  Letting me ruin this pussy.” Felix brought his finger down to your clit and rubbed it in circles.  “Will you cum with me sweetheart? Let me fill you up?”

“Yes please fill me up baby, I’m, I’m close.” A few thrusts later, you felt the band in your tummy release one last time.  It spread throughout your body, your vision going white from the pleasure, and legs spasming.  You screamed out Felix’s name, moaning through the aftershocks. 

Felix felt you cunt spasm around his cock. He felt his release building, building, and with a hard, deep thrust, he came, moaning out “yes, yes, yes, my baby, filling you up just like I said.”  Ropes of thick, hot, cum shot out painting the walls of your white.  Felix rocked his hips into yours a few more times before collapsing on top of you.  You cradled his head into your chest, both of you coming down from your highs.  

Felix lifted his head up and gave you a kiss, savoring the taste of you.  “I love you baby.”

“I love you too,” you replied. Stroking his hair with a smile on your face.

Felix then slowly pulled out, both of you hissing from overstimulation.  He watched the mix of your arousal and his cum seep out of your pussy onto the bed sheets.  He had never seen a more pretty sight.  

“Let me get a towel baby, I’ll be right back.”  Felix slipped on his boxers and sweatpants and then made his way to the bathroom where he got a wet towel to wipe you down.  He came back and began wiping you down, softly and gently.  Once he was done, he found an extra shirt of his and gave it to you to put on.  You thanked him for the shirt, put it on, and laid back in bed.  Felix joined you, wrapping you in his arms.  

“Well that was fun.” He said.  You looked up at your boyfriend with an incredulous look.  “Did you really just say that?” You asked, laughing.  He laughed,  squeezed you tighter, and with a wink said, “ Well it was fun.  I’d say it was much more fun than building that PC.”  

You couldn’t agree more. 

[joelscruff]

poolside (sugar daddy!javi gutierrez x f!reader) 18+

kofi | um i literally wrote this in an hour?????? idk where it even came from but basically han @swiftispunk had to walk home in a blizzard today and i felt she deserved something warm to enjoy while she bundles up. who woulda thought this would be my first fic of 2024? anyway this is loosely based off this drabble by han and.. dare i say... exists in the same universe? in my brain lmao summary: just some fun by the pool with sugar daddy!javi rating: 18+ explicit warnings: blowjobs, deepthroating, brief ball worship, daddy kink, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, bad google translate spanish, sweat word count: 1.5k

You've been thinking about it all morning, and that's no exaggeration. The second you'd awoken the thought had been there in the back of your mind, although quieted almost immediately by your alarm and the rush to get ready for the day. It had returned in the bathroom as you'd brushed your teeth, again at breakfast when you'd scarfed down a banana, and now, as you sip your ice-cold cocktail underneath the hot Majorcan sun, the thought is there again.

Only this time, you can't hold it back.

"Can I be honest about something?"

The words tumble past your lips much faster than anticipated, garbled by anxiety and the deafening humidity of the warm summer day. For a few seconds you think - god, he's gonna ask me to repeat it - but thankfully, Javi turns to you from the lounge chair on your right side with a kind smile and those sparkling eyes you've already grown so accustomed to. Your nervousness dissipates almost immediately.

"Of course you can," he says, tilting his head back against the soft cushion, "You can tell me anything, mi amor."

You bite your lip, avoiding eye contact as you softly murmur, "Well I know we haven't really established all our rules yet, but, um -" your eyes fall unconsciously to his striped speedo, "I'd really like to give you a blowjob."

The speed at which his eyebrows go up is almost comical, sunglasses drooping off the end of his nose as his cocktail freezes in mid-air on its way to his mouth. He stares at you for a few seconds with fluttering lashes, words bubbling in his throat but never actually passing his lips. You stifle a giggle.

"Would that be okay?" you ask quietly, shyly, though you already know from his reaction that it's more than okay. You just want to hear him say it.

With an almost shaky hand he places his drink on the table between your chairs and sits up a bit, long tan legs stretching out against the length of the chair. He pushes his glasses up, as if trying to hide his clearly excited expression from you - trying to play it cool, as best he can. Adorable.

"Yes," he finally states, voice cracking slightly, "Yes, that would be okay."

In seconds you've lifted from your spot beside him to kneel down alongside his chair, hand immediately reaching for the waistband of his speedo. His shirt rides up as he positions himself accordingly, and you can see sweat dripping from the hair on his tummy down into his pubic hair. You start to salivate.

His cock is only semi-hard, taken by surprise at your sudden request, but you think it's cute. You tug down the speedo as best you can, exposing him entirely, his heavy balls slipping out of their confinement. With no hesitation you lean down and nuzzle your nose against each one, inhaling his delicious musk and smiling when you feel his hand immediately cup the back of your head. Oh, he likes that.

You open your mouth and carefully tug one of his balls into your mouth as best you can, soft and sensitive against your tongue. He lets out a shaky moan and you peer up to see him tilting his head back again; you can't tell if he's looking at you, eyes covered by his sunglasses, but you don't mind. You start to suckle carefully, tongue swirling all along the tender area before releasing it with a pop and enveloping the second one in the same manner. His fingers tighten slightly in your hair and you smirk.

"Do you like getting your balls sucked, daddy?" you ask quietly after freeing your mouth again.

"Y-yes," he says through another moan as you begin to lap at them with your tongue, wet with your saliva and his sweat, "Yes, mi amor. D-daddy likes that."

You pull your face back and feel yourself throb when you see how much his cock has grown, already at full size just from having his balls played with. You nudge the base with your nose, closing your eyes as you let it trail up and down, up and down, and then repeating the same pattern with your tongue. He tastes like saltwater and you salivate even more.

"Oh, fuck," he groans somewhere above you, thumb stroking the spot behind your ear, "Así, corazón."

His Spanish - its meaning still mostly unbeknownst to you - spurs you on, and you reach your hand down to carefully lift his cock from his belly and slip it past your lips. His mushroom head is soft and already leaking, salty-sweet on your tongue as you moan around its width and take it further into your mouth. Already dying to have him in your throat, you push downwards and allow almost his entire length to fill you up, your eyes rolling back at the sensation.

"Oh," he whimpers out, thighs trembling beneath you, "Mi amor..." His nails dig lightly into your scalp and you feel your pussy throb again.

Breathing carefully through your nose, you sink your mouth down until your lips kiss the base of his cock, his pubic hair crowding your face. You inhale deeply and moan again, thighs rubbing together as he pulses in your throat. After a few seconds you pull off, spluttering a bit but wiping your mouth and going back in for more almost immediately. He groans above you, watching as you deepthroat his thick cock with barely any inhibitions whatsoever.

"N-need to be inside you," he murmurs suddenly, fingers brushing through your hair with an urgency that wasn't there before.

"You are inside me," you whisper as you pull off his cock, only to capture it in your mouth a few seconds later and stuff your throat with his length again.

"No, eso no es lo que quiero decir," his words are already mush, and you wouldn't understand even if he'd spoken them in English. When you don't respond, only suckle around the warm appendage in your throat, he finally manages to groan, "Up here, hermosa, please. Daddy needs your pussy."

Fuck.

If he'd asked you any other way, you might not have listened, especially when the rules for your dynamic still have yet to be completely laid out. But just hearing him say that again...

"Okay, daddy," you mumble around the head of his cock, letting it plop from your lips and smack wetly against his belly. You stand up and waste no time in tugging your bikini bottoms down, tossing them to the side and climbing into his lap. Your pussy is warm and sticky against his bare skin, throbbing above his belly button in quick pulses.

"Lift up," he practically hisses through his teeth, reaching down and holding his cock at attention while you do as he says. A moment later you're sheathing his thick length inside your heat, soft whimpers escaping your lips as you sink down. "That's it, mi amor," he groans, "Perfecta."

You already know you're not going to last, and he seems to feel the same. The humidity of the air pushes down on your sweaty bodies, your hands coming down to press firmly against his chest as you start to ride his cock up and down. You finger the buttons of his shirt, pulling them apart to access the skin beneath; in turn, he reaches up and pulls your bikini top down under your breasts with one finger, exposing them to him as you start to bounce.

He's so fucking thick, so deep and hot and wet and perfect. Your brow furrows as you quicken your pace, eyes coming up to meet his sunglasses, and - without asking - you reach forward and take them off. He's looking right at you, eyes still sparkling, watching your every movement - watching you bounce up and down on his cock. It's enough to make you come.

And you do, a high keening sound falling from your mouth as you fall forward against his chest and let your orgasm take over, limbs loose and shaky. His arms wrap around you, hold you firm against his body as he takes your hips and lifts you up and down without any effort, keeping your pace steady on his cock.

"That's it, mi amor," he murmurs to you softly, movements frantic now, fast and desperate, "Hold on to me."

He doesn't need to ask - you're already wrapping your arms around his neck and breathing haggardly against the warmth of his chest as he fucks into you. It only takes a few more lifts of your hips for him to explode inside of you, cum hot and thick against your walls, filling you up. You squeak out another breathless moan and bury your face in his sun-kissed skin.

He keeps you there on his cock for a few moments, both of you catching your breaths as he strokes your bare skin up and down, up and down, listening to the chirps of birds in nearby trees and the faint splash of pool water. It's so peaceful.

"Thank you, daddy," you tell him softly.

"No, hermosa," he pants out, nose brushing the crown of your head as he presses a kiss to your hair, "Thank you."

[doumadono]

Warnings: fem!reader, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, orgasm denial, light dom/sub, names calling, rough, unprotected p in v, creampie

Synopsis: on his birthday morning, Bakugo wakes up early, brimming with restless energy that he needs to release

A/N: the prompt was: very rough birthday morning with dom!Bakugo This is the final fic I wrote for my little event celebrating Bakugo's birthday. I hope you all enjoy it. Happy birthday, my sweet little gremlin!

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST BAKUGO'S BIRTHDAY EVENT 2024

As the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, he stirred in bed, his eyes snapping open with a restless energy. His gaze landed on the figure lying next to him - it was you, your Y/H/C hair tousled on the pillow, and your delicate features softly framing your peaceful sleep.

Without a word, he rolled over and pinned you to the bed, his strong hands gripping your wrists as he stared down at you with fierce determination.

You gasped, your eyes fluttering open wide with surprise. "Katsuki…" you started, but he cut you off with a harsh kiss, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip as his tongue forced its way into your mouth.

You moaned softly, your body arching beneath him as you easily surrendered to his dominance.

He released your wrists, his hands roaming over your body as he tore off your silky nightgown with rough, impatient movements.

"Katsuki! That was my favourite nightgown!" You whimpered, your nails digging into his back as he kissed and bit his way down your exposed neck, his teeth leaving angry red marks on your soft skin.

When he reached your breasts, he took one nipple between his teeth and tugged, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your parted lips. He repeated the motion with the other nipple, his fingers teasing and pinching until you were writhing beneath him.

He was always rough during sex, but this morning, there was an edge to him that you had never seen before.

His hand moved lower, sliding between your thighs to find you already wet and ready for him. Bakugo growled in satisfaction, his fingers roughly stroking your clit as you cried his name out, your hips already bucking against the heel of his hand.

But he wasn't satisfied with just your pleasure. He licked around your navel, and then got off the bed, like nothing had happened seconds ago. "Get on your fucking knees, babe," he growled, his voice low and commanding.

You eyes widened for a moment before you obeyed his harsh command, dropping to you knees in front of him.

Katsuki towered over you, his hands roughly grabbing your hair as he pulled your head back. Bakugo leaned down, his lips met yours in a brutal kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth once again. He then quickly pushed his black sweatpants down, his cock springing free and resting proudly against his abs, throbbing slightly as his piercing gaze swept over your naked form, so vulnerable before him.

Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock, your mouth watering at the thought of tasting him.

Bakugo grabbed the back of your head and pulled you towards his crotch, the red tip of his cock poking your lips which eagerly parted, allowing him to slide into your mouth. You moaned as you took him in, expertly teasing his cock with your tongue, swirling it around the sensitive head before taking him even deeper.

Bakugo let out a deep groan, his hips bucking as he fucked your mouth at steady pace.

The sound of wet, sloppy sucking filled the room, mixing with Bakugo's moans of pleasure. Your fingers found their way to Bakugo's tight balls, massaging them gently as you continued to suck his cock. Your hands reached up to grab Bakugo's ass, pulling him deeper into your mouth as you gagged on his dick. Your head bobbed up and down, taking more and more of his length into your eager mouth.

Bakugo's hands gripped your hair, guiding your movements.

You could feel his cock hitting the back of your throat, and you gagged slightly.

"Oh, fuck." Katsuki let out a string of curses as he felt the back of your throat hitting the head of his cock on and on, and when you licked the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft, he rolled his head back, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. He could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, but he didn't want to cum yet, so he pulled out of your mouth and helped you to your feet.

Bakugo pushed you back on the bed. He parted your legs and his calloused fingers slid easily into your wetness, his thumb rubbing against your swollen clit. Your hips bucked involuntary as you felt the pleasure building inside of you.

Bakugo's fingers slid in and out of your drenched pussy, his thumb rubbing against your clit faster and faster. He dived between your legs, lapping at your clit, his intense crimson eyes fixed on yours, studying your reaction closely. Katsuki crushed his hungry mouth across your sex, his tongue pushing into you and lapping at your juices. He knew exactly how to tease you, exactly how to drive you insane.

"Katsuki," you moaned his name, arching your back and slipping your hand into his ash blonde hair, tugging at it in an attempt of bringing him closer to your pussy.

You could sense his smirk against your wet core as he pulled his fingers partway out, using them to open your entrance up further. His warm, flexed tongue plunged into you, aiming for depth, moving rhythmically as he tasted your juices with a satisfied hum. He swiped some of your wetness with his fingers, pulling them away from you entirely. Then, he grasped his stiff cock and began jerking himself while eating your pussy, spreading your wetness all over his throbbing shaft, grunting lowly.

"Fuck," you bit your lower lip so hard it drew blood – oh, he was so skilled at going down on you.

He was sucking harder and then nipping at your swollen clit with his sharp teeth.

You couldn't help the scream that erupted from your throat. "Katsuki!" With that, you came all over his mouth.

When he finally pulled away from your sex, his lips and chin glistened with your essence. Bakugo didn't seem phased by it, though. He theatrically licked his fingers clean and ran his tongue over his lips, capturing as much of your taste as possible. "Goddamit, babe, you taste incredible," he praised, and his cock throbbed at his words as if it sought to validate his declaration.

With a savage grin, he flipped you onto your stomach and yanked your hips up, your round ass in the air as he positioned himself behind you.

"Katsuki…" you started again, but he silenced you with a sharp smack on your ass, the sound echoing through the room. You could feel his cock sliding up and down your wet slit, teasing you before Bakugo finally thrust himself inside you. You cried out as he filled you completely, his rough movements sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout your already exhausted body. You cried out, your fingers clenching the sheets as he began to move, each thrust harder and faster than the last.

He grunted with every thrust, his hands gripping your hips as he slammed into you over and over again. "Is this what you wanted, slut?" he snarled, his hips pounding into you with a ferocity that was almost painful. "You wanted me to fuck you rough like this on my fucking birthday, hmmm? To use ya like a fucking whore?" he slapped your ass several times, leaving a red mark in a shape of his hand on your left buttock.

"Yes," you moaned, your face completely buried in the pillow. "Use me for your pleasure, Kats," you begged.

You could barely keep up, your body shaking with overstimulation and pain as he took you roughly doggy style. You moaned and cried out, your voice hoarse as you begged for more, your body craving the intense pleasure he was offering. "More, more, more," you whined, pressing your cheek to his pillow.

He growled in response, his movements becoming even more frenzied as he slammed into you again and again.

You could hear the sound of your flesh slapping together, the wetness of your sex filling the room. As you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, you reached between your legs to rub at your clit.

But Bakugo swatted your hand away, taking over the task himself. He reached around and found your clit, his fingers working it in time with his thrusts. "I'll decide when you come, bitch," he snarled, his fingers working furiously over your swollen bud as he continued to pound into you. He groaned as he felt you squeeze around him. Withdrawing, he moved back into your pussy with full force again and again. He sunk his teeth into the red mark he had made earlier where your neck met your shoulder and moved his body roughly against yours.

Your arousal was so great that it now coated the inside of your trembling thighs.

Bakugo let out a primal growl as he followed soon after, his hot, sticky cum eurpting deep within your pussy, filling you up to the brim, coating your spongy walls completely white with his semen. "Cum for me, slut," he rasped.

And so you came apart beneath him, your second orgasm tearing through you like a storm, your pussy clenching convulsively around his softening cock.

Finally, after a few more shallow thrusts, he pulled out completely and collapsed onto the bed beside you.

You reached up and pushed a few stray pieces of mussed hair off his forhead, and immediately tucked into his strong arms. "Happy birthday," you whispered, brushing your lips against his broad chest.

As you lay there together, panting and spent, Bakugo cradled you in his arms and sighed, his eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath. "Thanks, babe."

You lay next to him, your body still trembling as you tried to process what had just happened. But even as the aftershocks of pleasure faded, you knew one thing for certain: you would never forget the rough birthday morning with your beloved boyfriend Bakugo.

[demigodpolls]

calling all PJO fanfic readers!

In the interest of acknowledging great works by fandom writers, DemigodPolls is going to share a big year-end collection of 2024 Percy Jackson fanfic recommendations! In the comment section below or on this AO3 post, leave recommendations for the best PJO fanfics you've read - but there is one major rule: they MUST have been published or last updated in 2024! No exceptions! Reblogs are turned on, but please do NOT leave your recommendations in the reblogs/tags! They will not be considered! Before commenting, make sure that you read the additional specifications below the cut first. If you have nothing to recommend, please do reblog to help support fandom writers and spread the word! Thank you!!!

What we want:

strong grammar

strong writing skills

accurate/interesting depictions of PJO characters

angst/romance/drama/adventure/friendship/character studies/etc

accurately tagged stories (i.e. stories that don't surprise you with untagged triggering content)

stories written with love for the percy jackson universe and its characters

What we DON'T want:

stories that were published/last updated before 2024

stories about ships that would be age-inappropriate in canon, unless the characters are CLEARLY aged up in the story (e.g. no olympians x teenage characters, unless the younger character is explicitly an ADULT when they first meet in the fanfic)

stories that contain non-c*n, inc*st, p*dophilia

stories under 1000 words

stories that fall under "character x everyone"

stories about original characters (stories that contain some OCs in non-protagonist roles are fine, character x reader/self-inserts are fine)

stories that bash other ships/characters (i.e., don't recommend percabeth fics that bash rachel/perachel)

stories that contain non-PJO crossovers (except for RRverse crossovers, i.e. pjo + tkc is fine, toa alone is fine, tkc alone is not, pjo + harry potter is not)

stories that contain gore/extreme violence/extreme bodily harm

stories that contain cheating/infidelity (I just don't want to read those, sorry)

dialogue-only fanfics/texting-only fanfics

stories that contain W*TTG sp0ilers

can I recommend multiple things?

yes! just make sure to categorize them correctly under the relevant prompts.

can I recommend my own story?

yes, but you are highly, highly encouraged to simultaneously recommend at least one other fanfic that you yourself did not write - let's spread the love! (not required)

is smut okay?

yes! but you must specify clearly that the story contains smut in your comment, and please don't use explicit/overly sexual language in your recommendation. I also reserve the right to refuse to consider stories that contain k*nks I don't want to engage with. (ab0, hardcore bd$m, parental name k*nk to name a few)

are non-english fanfics okay?

you are absolutely welcome to recommend non-english fanfics to others in the comments! but I will not be able to put them on the final recommendation list, because I only speak english and I cannot personally vet their contents, cannot observe their grammar, and could be terribly misled by a translator. I'm very sorry! however, if you would like to put together a similar recommendation collection of non-english stories, I'd be happy to promote it on this blog.

is percico okay?

someone asked about this specifically, so here's my stance: percico is a controversial pairing due to the debated inappropriateness of the canon age gap (approx. 3 years). I personally consider 3 years between minors to be juuust beyond my comfort zone (2 years), so please respect my decision to abide by my own comfortability and refuse to consider stories that feature age gaps of this size or larger involving minors. however, you can recommend percico fics where the age gap is explicitly made smaller, or fics where nico and percy are both explicitly adults! this same rule applies to any other ship in a similar circumstance - check the wiki for canon ages if you're unsure! (and to be clear, this is solely about ages, not about the individual merit of the pairing itself. respectfully - this is me drawing a boundary about what I am comfortable with, so do not argue with me on this topic).

is caleo okay?

this pair is even more controversial nowadays, so here's my stance when it comes to weird magical circumstances: within the logic of the pjo universe, some things that seem strange from a mortal perspective are standard within the books. i.e., it's not weird to date fellow demigods, even if the person you're dating is technically your aunt/uncle/cousin/etc. likewise, it's not "weird" for a teenager to date an immortalized or de-immortalized teenager, because... I genuinely don't know, that's just how the book logic works. for that reason, caleo works are accepted. we're going to apply this same logic to pairs like theyna, which could also potentially have murky circumstances (although I do consider thaluke to be especially iffy, because it heavily depends on the situation that people write them in - so if you're unsure, go ahead and submit it, and I'll use my best judgement from there). however, I cannot begin to express my extreme disinterest in discourse about immortal dating ethics - like, I would rather do anything else. not trying to be sassy here, but I'm going to ask you guys to not pick a fight about these topics, for the simple reason that I have zero interest in debating over situations that could never occur in real-life.

are incomplete/discontinued stories okay?

yes! I'd prefer stories that have at least three chapters, but this is not required. completed one-shots are also fine!

If someone already recommended a story that I like, should I vouch for it?

if you would like to, then absolutely!! you can respond to the appropriate prompt from this account in the comments, or you can reply to the person making the recommendation. just make sure to explicitly state which story you're advocating for.

Comments that do not follow these guidelines may be deleted!

How to make recommendations:

There are two places in which you can make your recs! You can click here to leave them on an AO3 mirror of this post, or do so in the comment section below. If the latter, continue reading. Please leave the story name, author username, story rating, main ship, and main characters in your comments - and if you'd like, definitely add some words about why you like it! AO3 direct links are not necessary, but super appreciated. But if it's not on AO3, please ensure that you make clear where exactly I can locate the story. In the comments below, you'll see comments that you can reply to, sorted by ships/lack thereof. Please sort your recommendations by replying to them accordingly (i.e. if you want to recommend 2 solangelo fics and 1 valgrace fic, leave the 2 solangelo recs under the solangelo prompt, then do the same in the valgrace prompt). You MUST explicitly state somewhere if the fanfic contains smut. If you're not sure where to put your recommendations, make your best guess - but absolutely do NOT intentionally mis-categorize your recommendations (i.e, if the pair is not canon, do not put it in the canon pairing section. Seriously. This makes things much more difficult for me while organizing fics, and I'll probably delete your comment anyway.) Lastly, please be mature about shipping. Nothing irritates me more than fighting about percy jackson ships in 2024. If you see fanfics recommended about pairings (or characters!) that you hate, do the mature thing and just scroll past it/do not engage. Character hate and ship hate is not tolerated on this blog. I am very serious about this - if you are starting a fuss about ships/characters, your comments will be deleted and your account will be permanently blocked. Respect your fellow fandom-mates! I will do my best to moderate this comment section, but before looking through them, please understand that I am not responsible for your individual well-being, and there may be fanfic recommendations that are not appropriate for minors/might contain triggering content/etc.

Here's a little form for those of you who find this easier to use, but you don't have to use it!! However, PLEASE do include the following information in your comment regardless:

story name: author: rating: ship: main characters: additional comments (what's it about? why do you like it? etc):

Don't forget, fanfics published/last updated in 2024 only!

Thank you so, so much for participating! The collection won't be published on this blog until late December, so until then, take your time, check those bookmarks, and read new PJO fanfics! Much love to all of you ♡

- demigodpolls

(art by @viria)

(dividers by @cafekitsune)

[megwritesriddles]

Your Champion ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 16 - Shower sex. Reader waits for Draco in the changing rooms during his match, ready to celebrate with him when he wins, and celebrate they do, in their usual fashion.

Tags: Shower sex, P in V, Handjob, Semi-public sex, Established relationship/Friends-with-benefits, Miscommunication, Cocky!Draco, QuidditchPlayer!Draco, Not canon compliant, Cliffhanger (minor).

Word count: 2.6k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: Surprise!! Two fics in one day!! This is short (ish) and sweet!! Hope you like it mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The game was louder than usual. The stands were more lively, the buzz of the players as they flew by amplified somehow by the stakes of the game. Even in the player's tent, it was nearly deafening. You sat on the bench under Draco's locker, reading your book, waiting. You were interested to know how the game was going, but Draco had asked you to stay in the tent and wait for him, so you did. 

You and Draco were… undefined, even though everybody knew there was something going on. As you’d walked into the tent with him earlier today, not even for the first time, other members of the team had wanted to make comments, but Draco had told them in no uncertain terms to keep it to themselves. He wasn’t shy of you in the slightest. Before walking out onto the pitch, he’d given you a kiss and a playful smack on the ass. He was never shy to let people see the two of you were involved, but the way you were involved was never discussed between you. You had decided a while ago to just interpret it as friends with benefits to prevent yourself from being let down. Draco had asked you to wait for him in the tent when you last saw him, telling you he’d want to ‘celebrate’ when Slytherin won.

“And if you don’t win?” you’d asked softly, his arms tightly around your waist. He scoffed at you. 

“Oh, we’ll win,” he grinned, placing a kiss on your lips. “And if somehow not, then I’ll need you to comfort me,” he smiled slightly softer. It’s these little glimpses of vulnerability that keep you running back to him. You live for them, every drop of his true self he gives you just keeps you addicted. Which is why you sit for potentially hours alone in a tent that smells lingeringly sweaty for him to finish his game. You’re lucky your book is interesting. 

It’s the final match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Stakes are high, even higher for Draco as it’s his last game at Hogwarts and, more importantly, his last game against Harry Potter. He has something to prove, and for his sake, you really hope he proves it. You don’t care much about your house, but you care about him. Slytherin hasn’t won the cup, even if they win this game, but for Draco, this match is bigger than that. He has to prove himself over Potter, it’s an odd compulsion he’s always had. He insisted you had to be in the changing rooms as you’re his good luck charm, which you had to admit, while cheesy, had really enticed you. 

There’s a massive eruption of cheers, you try your best to guess which house they’re coming from, but you’re unsure. From your position near the ground, you can’t hear the commentary over the roar of the crowd so you’re unable to figure out what’s happened. You slowly close your book on the bench beside you and wait. There’s a chant forming, still obscured to your ears by clumsy timing, but slowly and surely it morphs into the word ‘Slytherin’. They’ve won. You smiled to yourself, cheering on your own in here feels silly. You slump slightly against the lockers, having won means the team will be out there celebrating for the while, talking to the school newspaper, being forced, with little luck presumably, to shake hands with the Gryffindors. You resign yourself to wait, but quite quickly, the fabric of the tent parts and Draco bursts in. He looks smug and he’s grinning wide, so you grin back. He comes over and picks you up with ease, clearly hopped up on adrenaline. You wrap your arms around his neck, giggling at his excitement.

“We won, love,” he tells you, even though this much is obvious. He presses a hard kiss to your lips before withdrawing again. “Fuck, you somehow look even more hot than when I just saw you,” he chuckles.

“That’s all the dopamine speaking,” you laugh softly, caressing his neck, his chest currently out of reach due to his quidditch uniform. “Aren’t you supposed to still be out there?” you question.

“Yeah, but I needed you, what are they gonna do? Kick me off the team? That was my final game,” he dismisses, holding you closer and kissing your jaw. You giggle a little.

“I suppose not,”

“Come on, I need a shower, love,” he carries you over into the shower room, gently setting you down by the bench. He makes quick work of his quidditch gear, but it still takes a while. Once he’s left in his undershirt and boxers, he dives for you. He kisses all over your neck, his hands sliding under your t-shirt and onto your back, caressing gently. “My good luck charm,” he hums against your neck. “You did me well today, I really showed Potter,” he hisses the last word and you almost laugh at him, but frankly you’re too used to this. He helps you to strip down, his hands absolutely everywhere on you. You take turns until you’re both stark naked. He is already half hard with anticipation, grinning lazily at you. You hear some of the other team members entering the tent and he guides you to one of the shower stalls so that you’re out of view. “Remember to be quiet for me, okay?” he grins cheekily. He turns on the shower and the stream of water crashes over you. It’s initially cold and you jump into his arms instinctively for warmth. He chuckles lowly and holds you while the water warms, seeming unphased by the icy shower falling over him. His wind-tousled hair becomes saturated with water, slicking down onto his forehead. He kisses your neck at a leisurely pace, rubbing his hands over you to soothe away the goosebumps until they’re finally gone. 

“Do you wanna wash first?” you enquire in his ear, otherwise you would have needed to shout over the pounding of the water in the enclosed space. He nods in response, stepping back and retrieving some soap from the magical dispenser. You watch him as he scrubs himself down, his lean body highlighted by a long tough quidditch season. He keeps his eyes on you too, enjoying the sight of your wet glistening body. He’s seen it many times before, but he never seems to tire of ogling. It’s slightly flattering, but it also makes you want to roll your eyes. He grins, sensing your annoyance. 

“What? You’re stunning, love,” he coos, leaning in to press his lips to your ear. “Making me hard just by standing there, no other girl can say that,” he nips your earlobe, leaning back to wash the last of the soap off of himself. He’s right, he’s much harder than he was when you entered the shower, his body knowing what’s coming, or rather, who is coming. He’s back on you in mere moments once he’s sure he’s free of soap. One arm settles around your waist, holding you close, the other takes your wrist and guides your hand to his erection. “You wanna spoil the victor, don’t you?” he teases against your ear. “I think I deserve it, and you’re always so good at it,” you roll your eyes again at his cocky behaviour, leaning up to kiss him as your hand wraps around his length. He hums in pleasure. His hand remains at your waist, slowly sliding down. You know where it’s headed, but don’t object. You pump his length gently in your hand, keeping a slow pace to start, aware that you can’t get him too loud where you are. His free hand cups your jaw as he kisses you, open-mouthed and desperate.

“You’re excited today,” you mumble teasingly against his lips. His hand squeezes the flesh of your rear. It’s a miracle he hears you. 

“Been thinking about you the whole match, surprised I was able to win when all I was thinking about was you,” he admits, softly sucking on your bottom lip. You slightly tighten your grip on his cock and he groans quietly. Your motions speed up ever so slightly, you add a little twisting motion as you go, one you know he loves. He holds you tight against his lips, using the kiss to muffle the needy noises escaping his lips. You thumb his tip gently and he bucks into your hand, another groan escaping him.

“I thought it was me that was supposed to be quiet,” you taunt, still working your hand in the way he loves. He grunts. 

“Brat,” he grins. “I’ll have you struggling in a second,” he promises between choked sounds. He reaches down, gently removing your hand from his cock, which is now weeping pre-cum. You know what he’s about to do, but somehow it shocks you anyway. He grabs your waist and spins you around, pressing you against the cool tile wall of the shower cubicle. His hands brace on either side of your head, his body pressing into your back. “Be quiet for me, won’t you, love?” he teases, kissing your cheek lingeringly before reaching down to align himself with you. You bite your lip, moaning softly as he runs his tip up and down your folds. You can tell without looking that he’s smiling his arrogant little smile, but it hardly matters to you when he’s rutting so deliciously against your clit. “While everyone’s distracted by the celebrations, I’ll take you to my room and please you nice and proper, yeah? A thank you for being my lucky charm. Eat you out until you cry? Do you like the sound of that, love?” he taunts. He knows you like the sound of it, you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. You whimper your soft agreement. “And then tomorrow, you can spend the day pleasing me, your champion, can’t you?” he prompts, grinding against you deliciously. “Can’t you?”

“Yes,” you exhale shakily. 

“I can have you all to myself tomorrow, all day, a perfect Sunday," he muses, kissing the crook of your neck. You whine, pressing back against him needily, the thoughts of what the two of you might get up to exhilarating. It’s not often you spent the whole day together, and you were surprised it was what he wanted, rather than basking in his victory with the team, but you were happy to comply. 

He finally begins to sink into you and it’s sweet relief. You bite your lip hard to keep quiet, wanting to moan out a string of colourful expletives to demonstrate how amazing this feels. He pants harshly against your ear, bottoming out and staying still for a little while. In this brief pause, you hear distant voices, a reminder that, though enclosed from view in these four walls, you are not completely alone. He braces against you and starts to pump his hips. You don’t need much warm-up since you’re quite used to his cock by now from months of taking it, but you’re still squeezing him the perfect amount and he makes sure to let you know through the soft growls leaving his lips. He rocks faster against you and it’s a battle to remain quiet, but you have no choice, even if you’re sure people have noticed your discarded clothes on the bench and put two and two together. His hand snakes down, rubbing gentle circles on your clit, you’re grateful for it, but you always wonder if it’s really a selfish action, as it makes you clench around him and his breath shudders with each clench. With him, it’s probably a bit of both, a favour for you, perfectly calculated so it benefits him too. You spread your legs a little more so he has better access to caress you. For the most part, the patter of the shower water against your skin and the shower floor drowns out the slap of skin against skin, but you hear it, travelling up through your body. If Draco hears it too, he doesn’t let it slow him down even slightly. He’s relentless in chasing his release, pressing firm kisses to your neck and shoulders, each a promise of a more relaxed experience later, a promise to lavish you in ecstasy, now and later. He’s mumbling something, but you can’t hear it, it’s not frantic enough to be an announcement of his orgasm, so you let yourself ignore him. The coil in your belly tightens and tightens until it’s almost painful, your whole body going tense. He realises it and speeds his fingers up on you, fucking into you faster. 

“That’s it,” you hear him coaxing over the various noises clouding your senses. “That’s it, love, you’re right there,” he whispers. The coil in your belly snaps in an instant, forcing you to bite down on your lip hard. You close your eyes in ecstasy, feeling your body pulsing pleasurably, tingling all over. Your legs shake and Draco holds you up as he rams into you a few more times before pulling out to spill his seed all over your lower back. You feel the warm liquid land on your back only for a moment before he shifts you under the spray of water to wash it away.

You gasp for breath in his arms and he does the same behind you, both overwhelmed by your first time together in a little while. Draco had recently confessed that he no longer touches himself as he has you, but with last-minute practice, the two of you have been apart for a while. It’s oddly flattering to realise from the intensity of his release, that he’s still using only you as an outlet. He wipes your back gently, making sure you’re free of his cum before loosening his grip on you carefully. He’s worried you’ll collapse, it happened once, and he’s been overly careful since. You stand shakily on your own two feet. He guides you around so you’re facing him and then wraps his arms around your waist. 

“I reckon I’m the champion at that too,” he grins smugly. You roll your eyes, leaning into his arms as he pecks your cheek and pats your ass affectionately as if to say ‘good job’.

“Merlin, your ego has been so inflated by that match,” you chuckle.

“And you want to stroke it,” he mutters the double entendre cheekily. Another glimpse at his genuine self, less vulnerable this time, but still true and seldom seen. You gently smack his chest and laugh at him and he laughs back. He turns off the shower and you listen. It’s mostly silent outside, you wonder idly how long you’ve been there together, and how obvious it might have been to the others what was going on. Draco seems unbothered, cracking the door to the cubicle and checking the coast is clear before ushering you out. He brings you a towel from his locker, which has been housing two towels since you began whatever this was. Once you’re wrapped in it, he smiles at you. “My beautiful good luck charm,” he murmurs, pushing your wet hair from your neck to press a few kisses there. 

“Oh shut up,” you giggle, slightly flustered. It was moments like these that really made you want to ask him what you were. He was always so sweet and tender after sex, it felt like something more than it probably did.

“No really,” he insists, pulling you closer again. “I wish we could just apparate to my room, but I suppose I don’t mind showing you off in the common room first, showing everyone those cute little marks on your neck, especially Potter! Hah! Imagine his face, I won the match and fucked you all within the hour, he’ll be green with envy,” he traces the few soft pink spots on your neck, chuckling to himself.

“People might think we’re dating,” you dismiss a little, though you find his comments amusing. He tilts his head at you. 

“Aren’t we?”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

[maiamore]

finally launching my Javi masterlist! stay tuned 🖤

⟶ THE LINES WE CROSS Pairing: Javier Peña x Forensic Scientist!Reader Rating: 18+ Status: Coming Soon MINI SERIES MASTERLIST Series Tags: set during seasons 2 & 3 of narcos, smutty filth of course, angst, no use of y/n, pwp, p in v intercourse, f&m!receiving oral, pet names, mutual masturbation, dry humping, office sex, enemies to lovers, mentions of drugs & violence, more tags added on fic

in the heart of Colombia’s war on narcos, you, a forensic scientist transfer in from the states. you find yourself working closely with Javier Peña and quickly find that he isn’t the man who stays—letting him in will only lead to heartbreak.

LAST UPDATED: 30 DEC 2024

[kenmakodz]

—CANDID LOVE.

pairing: yuuta okkotsu x reader

summary: in which you and your friends sign up for a transfer study opportunity, but only you were accepted into the program. the idea of navigating an unfamiliar place while being away from your friends is a plague to the mind. when you finally get settled in and realize that the first project you’re assigned is with partners, in a class where you know nobody, all hope is lost— until the teacher starts reading out names: “y/n l/n and yuuta okkotsu, pair up”.

status: ongoing (started february 18, 2024)

warnings: mostly fluff, lil bit of angst, foul language, dark/crack humor, social media au, timestamps are irrelevant unless stated otherwise

- names of chapters can/will change as the story progresses

- chapters with (☆) will have written section(s)

profiles

yuuji hate club [y/n's group]

3 reasons to wear a condom [yuuta's group]

chapters

01. nobara-assigned tour guide

02. shitty sushi place

03. life: ended

04. denialtown

05. sound the alarms

06. brain food

07. i hate men (except you two)

08. grow some balls!!

09. pinch me

9.5. birthday bash!!

10. dream team

11. i'll see you in court

12. jealousy

13. wait, what?

14. BANNED </3

more to be announced ..

notes - finally getting this au up and running since ive been thinking it through for quite a while! i do write slow and overthink everything so updates MAYYY be patchy (please dont hate me if they are). i'm super excited about this though! it's my first time doing a full social media fic yayay i hope you guys end up liking it :p i heart yuuta

tag list is open

⤷ © kenmakodz -- pfps and pictures used do not belong to me, but the story does.