#He always shows up in the Fade to speak and interact

[the-tropes-are-hungry]

I'm basically rewriting Hearthkeeper from the original Echoes of Arlathan fic from 2016 and that means I've made a lot of changes. But now I've fallen into a small re-read of parts of Disgrace and I'm. Hmm. I'm. Thinking. Connor has always showed up in Echoes/Hearthkeeper during the ritual to cure tranquility. But. With Veilguard. I'm thinking a thought. What if he shows up in person

[leriexoxo]

Truths Are For Pussies

Enemy! Changbin x Reader

Tags: smut, enemies to lovers, sexting, nudes, public groping, size kink, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), Dom Changbin, rough sex, breeding kink, soft aftercare

Word count: 4.7k

Summary: A drunk dare. One obscene nude you should’ve deleted months ago. You send it to the loudmouth classmate you hate most—Changbin. What you don’t expect? His filthy response. Or how fast it spirals into late-night thirst traps, voice notes, and him promising to fuck you so good you won’t be able to walk.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

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You didn’t even want to go out that night.

It had been one of those weeks—back-to-back deadlines, sleepless nights, and that argument with Changbin during Tuesday’s group presentation that had left you pacing your room afterward, teeth clenched, cheeks hot.

He was too much.

Too loud. Too confident. Too all over the place.

Every class, every group chat, every hallway you tried to exist in—he was there. Smirking. Teasing. Rolling his eyes at your notes, talking over you during discussions, always finding ways to get under your skin like it was a personal hobby.

But your girls had insisted. “You need a break. You need tequila.”

So you’d gone.

Lip gloss, crop top, shots lined up like soldiers.

By midnight, the living room was a haze of heat and laughter. Someone had started a game of truth or dare with twisted rules. Everyone was half-drunk and full of bad ideas.

You should’ve seen it coming. The moment your turn came and the bottle pointed at you, a few smirks lit up around the circle like a warning.

“Okay,” Layla grinned, “truth or dare?”

You hesitated. Truth was safe. Predictable. But everyone had been choosing it all night, and you’d mocked them for it. Now it was your turn to be bold.

“Dare.”

Layla didn’t hesitate.

“Send a nude to Seo Changbin… or run a full lap around the football field naked. With a suction dildo stuck to your forehead.”

The room howled.

Someone immediately got up to rummage in a drawer. “I have the dildo!”

Your stomach dropped.

You tried to laugh it off, eyes wide. “Are you fucking insane?”

“You’ve got beef with him, right?” someone snorted.

“This is perfect.”

“You’re always bickering, it’ll shake him up.”

It wasn’t the nudity that scared you. It wasn’t even Changbin.

It was what was already in your camera roll.

A photo you’d taken months ago during a particularly filthy night, when you were feeling reckless and painfully needy. The lights had been low, your skin warm, your thoughts wicked. You’d spread yourself wide open on the sheets, wet and glistening, lips parted, your own fingers pulling at your skin. Your face was in it. Your expression ruined.

You had stared at it afterward, thinking: This is too much. No one can ever see this.

But you hadn’t deleted it.

And now… your hand hovered over it. Over the send button. The whole room was watching you, waiting.

You felt drunk. Braver than you should’ve been.

So you said, too calmly, “Fine.”

And tapped send.

It only took thirty seconds for regret to sink in like poison.

What had you just done?

He was going to lose his mind. Or worse, not react at all. He could ruin you. Show people. Mock you in class. Bring it up next time you tried to speak during a lecture.

You curled into the couch, face hot, eyes burning from the alcohol and the humiliation chewing through your stomach. Your phone buzzed once.

Then twice.

You turned it over.

Changbin 💢:

Did you mean to send that?

You stared at your phone like it had grown teeth.

Your thumb hovered over the keyboard.

Every possible answer felt wrong. You almost typed “ignore it”, but deleted it. Then you typed:

“It was a dare. Just forget it.”

Another ping.

Changbin 💢:

That’s not the kind of photo you send as a dare.

You swallowed.

Your face was burning. All the background noise in the living room—the music, the laughter, the clinking glasses—faded to a soft murmur. The heat of the dare was starting to wear off, replaced by a sick rush of adrenaline and humiliation.

Changbin 💢:

Jesus fucking Christ.

I… I didn’t know you looked like that.

You’ve been walking around class with that between your legs?

You tightened your thighs instinctively.

You typed:

“It was a stupid dare. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

But he wasn’t letting it go.

Changbin 💢:

You already had that pic?

That wasn’t a selfie. That was planned.

You took that for someone. You were gonna send it eventually.

You bit your lip.

“It’s old. I never sent it to anyone.”

Changbin 💢:

That makes it worse.

You paused.

“Why?”

Changbin 💢:

Because I’ve never wanted to fuck someone I hate more than I do right now.

You looked so good. So fucking wet. Like you needed someone to take care of it.

You blinked.

Your stomach flipped. The burn between your legs sharpened. You weren’t sure if it was arousal or pure nerves—probably both.

“This is insane.”

“You’re insane.”

“You’re still the asshole who makes me want to throw things in class.”

You deleted it all.

Instead:

“You’ve seen it now. Can you just forget it?”

The reply came back instantly.

Changbin 💢:

No fucking way.

Changbin 💢:

You’re seriously gonna act like you didn’t send that on purpose? Like you don’t want me thinking about it?

Changbin 💢:

You want me hard for you, don’t you?

“No.” “Fuck off.” “Stop.”

You didn’t send any of those.

“You’re full of yourself.”

Changbin 💢:

Nah, princess. You’re the one dripping in that pic, not me.

You closed your eyes.

He was unraveling you.

The way he talked in person was always irritating—too loud, too smug. But here? In text? At 1:03 a.m.?

He was��� different. Sharper. Controlled. Bold in a way that went straight to your core.

“You’re lucky I’m drunk.”

Changbin 💢:

You think I need you drunk for this?

I’d still be hard for you even if we were sober in the library.

You bit back a noise.

Your thighs rubbed together involuntarily.

Changbin 💢:

You want me to send something back? Would that make it fair? Even the score?

Your fingers twitched.

“You’re bluffing.”

Changbin 💢:

Try me.

Your pulse quickened.

“You’re not actually going to—”

Ping.

The photo loaded slowly.

Dark sweatpants. No shirt. His abs were tight, skin glowing with a warm amber sheen like he’d taken the pic right after a workout. His hand tugged the waistband down low, and the bulge beneath was unmistakable—huge, thick, pressed to the fabric like it was dying to be freed.

You inhaled, sharp.

The outline of his cock was ridiculous. Heavy. Thick at the base, curving up. The tip clearly outlined. The kind of size that made your body react before your brain caught up.

And his caption?

Changbin 💢:

Now you can imagine what’s gonna fill you the next time you talk back in class.

You didn’t realize your mouth had gone dry until you swallowed hard.

Someone from the living room called your name. “Babe! Your turn!”

“I’ll be right back,” you called, voice strained.

You grabbed your phone, pushed off the couch, and disappeared into the hallway. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere you could breathe.

And think.

And maybe—just maybe—look again.

Because for the first time since you’d met him, you weren’t sure if you hated him… or if you just didn’t know what to do with how badly you suddenly wanted him.

—

You thought you could outlast the tension.

After the photo he sent—the dick print, the way it looked too big to even be real, the caption that made your thighs clench—you told yourself it was just late-night chaos. That once the sun came up, you could pretend it hadn’t happened.

You left him on read.

Muted the conversation.

Avoided every look in class, kept your expression cold, distant.

But Changbin?

He was different now.

Quieter. Sharper. Dangerous.

He still joked with the guys. Still sat in the same row as always. But whenever your eyes flicked up, he was watching you—really watching. Like he could still see that photo of you spread open and dripping every time you bit your lip or crossed your legs.

And when your professor assigned a partner project and called out his name alongside yours?

You knew it was over.

Later that afternoon, the library was quiet. Too quiet. The air between you was thick with something unsaid as you stood beside where he sat, laptops open, pretending to focus.

You tried not to look at him.

Tried not to remember the outline of his cock stretching grey fabric. The way he’d said “what’s gonna fill you next time you talk back in class.”

Your body hadn’t forgotten.

You’d touched yourself to that image more times than you were ready to admit.

“You’ve been quiet,” he murmured, eyes on the screen.

You didn’t look at him. “I’m working.”

“Right.”

“That’s what you were doing the other night too, huh? Working?”

You stiffened.

“I didn’t take you for the type to keep that kind of photo in your phone. Or was it just waiting for someone better to see it?”

You finally turned. “Are you done?”

He leaned back slightly in his chair, smirking—but something darker hid behind his eyes. He leaned in towards you, low and quiet.

“No. Not even close.”

You didn’t notice when he stood. But you did feel it when he moved behind you.

At first, it was just his hand brushing your shoulder as he leaned to peek at your screen.

Then he didn’t move away.

Instead, you felt the heavy press of his chest behind you. His palm slid slowly—casually—over your back. Lower. Resting at the curve of your waist.

And then he shifted—just slightly—and you felt it.

The unmistakable weight of him.

Hard. Thick. Pressed right up against your ass.

Your breath hitched.

“Miss me?” he whispered.

Your cheeks burned. “You’re disgusting.”

“Am I?”

“Because this…” his hand flattened against your hip, pulling you subtly back into his body, into his cock—“says otherwise.”

You should’ve shoved him.

Should’ve snapped, slapped, screamed.

But your body betrayed you.

Your thighs clenched. Your breathing went shallow.

And when his fingers brushed the hem of your skirt, you didn’t move away.

If anything—you leaned back.

“You liked it,” he murmured, lips just behind your ear.

“You liked knowing I saw you like that. That I wanted to fuck you from the second that photo lit up my screen.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“You keep saying that,” he murmured, voice dropping lower, hungrier. “But your body doesn’t agree.”

His hand slid lower, palm resting on your ass now—really grabbing, squeezing, like it was his already. He rutted against you once, slow, just enough to let you feel the size of him again.

You gasped, barely holding in the noise.

“Poor thing,” he whispered.

“Trying so hard to act like you don’t want this cock stretching you open.”

You closed your eyes. “We’re in a fucking library.”

“And you’re soaked,” he growled. “Aren’t you?”

You were.

You hated him for it.

But God—you wanted more.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice a low rumble in your ear.

“Tell me you don’t want me pushing these panties to the side and sliding in right here.”

You didn’t say anything.

And neither did your body.

Because for the first time, you weren’t sure who was in control—him, or the ache between your legs screaming for more.

His grip on your waist didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened—fingers flexing into the curve of your hips like he wanted to memorize the way you fit under his hands.

You told yourself to move.

To snap out of it.

To shove his cocky ass away and slap the heat off your face.

But instead… you shifted.

Barely. Subtly. Almost like a breath.

Your hips arched back just the tiniest bit—and you felt him twitch.

Big. Hot. Hard against you.

And god help you, you did it again.

This time, he chuckled. Low and raspy.

“Keep doing that and I’m gonna take it personally.”

His voice buzzed against the shell of your ear, warm and wicked.

“I can swear you’re wet.”

“I’m not,” you breathed, barely able to form the words.

“No?”

One of his hands slid from your hip, slipping lower, slow and deliberate. Your skirt offered no protection—his fingers eased beneath the hem with practiced ease, knuckles brushing your thigh.

“Then you won’t mind if I check.”

You gasped. “Changbin—”

But it was too late.

His hand slid up. Under your skirt. Under your panties.

And then—his fingers paused.

Right at your slit.

Slick. Dripping. Heat soaked through cotton and flushed onto his fingertips.

He let out a quiet groan, something dark and pleased.

“Fuck me…”

You froze.

“You’re soaked.”

You should’ve died of embarrassment.

Instead, you whimpered—barely, breath catching in your throat. Your thighs twitched, instinctively trying to close, but his hand was already there, slipping further, middle finger pressing through the wetness and parting you open.

“Look at that,” he muttered. “Fighting me in public, dripping for me in private.”

“You can’t—” you whispered, but your voice cracked halfway through.

“I can,” he said. “And I am.”

His fingertip circled your entrance, not quite pushing in. Just enough to tease. To test how badly your body wanted him.

And it did.

God, it did.

“All this just from my picture?” he murmured. “You really are a dirty little thing.”

“Changbin, we’re—someone could—”

“Then stay quiet,” he whispered, lips grazing your ear. “Be a good girl and let me feel what you’ve been hiding from me.”

You squirmed against him, helpless. His hard-on grinding into your ass. His hand between your legs. Your body betraying everything your mouth refused to say.

But then—he pulled back. Slow. Measured and wicked.

“Not here,” he muttered. “Not yet.”

You let out a shaky exhale, unsure if it was relief or frustration.

“You’re not ready.”

He said it like a promise. Even more like a plan.

—

That night, your phone lit up before midnight.

Changbin 💢

You touching yourself right now?

You swallowed, heat curling in your stomach.

“No.”

A lie.

You’d been thinking about his finger, barely there, slicking through your folds. The way he pressed against you like he could fuck you through your clothes. The restraint he showed—pulling away just when you were about to lose it.

Changbin 💢:

Liar. You were dripping earlier. You think that goes away?

Changbin 💢:

You want help?

Your breath caught.

Then another message.

📷 An image.

A mirror selfie. Taken low. No shirt. Sweatpants slung low on his hips. But this time… no filter, no teasing.

His cock was hard. So obvious. Thick and curving up in those grey sweats, the head visibly straining against the fabric. His hand was wrapped around the base, gripping himself through the material.

Your core clenched.

Changbin 💢:

You made me like this. Do something about it.

Another ping.

🎧An audio file.

You hesitated… then tapped.

His voice—low, breathless, filthy—filled your room.

“Wish you were here right now. I’d be in you already. So deep you’d cry. Want you moaning my name with your thighs wrapped around my waist.”

You bit your knuckle.

“Bet you’re wet again just hearing this.”

You were.

And you knew damn well… this was only the beginning because it was obvious that you knew you should stop.

Mute the chat. Turn your phone off. Go to sleep.

But instead, you hit play again.

Changbin’s voice filled your room for the second time, low and unsteady.

“Wish you were here right now. I’d be in you already. So deep you’d cry. Want you moaning my name with your thighs wrapped around my waist.”

Your hand had already slipped under the waistband of your shorts. Shame curled hot in your chest, but it wasn’t enough to stop you.

Not with his voice saying things like that.

Not when your body was still aching from what he’d done in the library.

You typed, hesitant:

“You’re a menace.”

Changbin 💢:

And you’re quiet. You touching yourself again?

“No.”

Changbin 💢:

You’re such a bad liar.

Another ping. Another message.

Changbin 💢:

Say my name once, and I’ll show you the real thing. But let me hear how down bad you are first.

Your legs squeezed together.

He wasn’t letting up.

Not just the teasing — the control. The way he peeled you open without even being in the same room. It was like he’d figured out every weakness you had and was pressing on all of them at once.

You typed:

“You want me to say your name?”

Changbin 💢:

Just once. Out loud. Right now.

I know you’re touching yourself, i just want to hear you.

Your heart pounded. You stared at the audio reply button. Your thumb hovered.

“I’m not sending you a voice note.”

Changbin 💢:

Why not?

You’re already soaked. Already picturing it, aren’t you?

Changbin 💢:

Me pulling your legs apart. Spitting on your pussy.

Sliding in nice and slow while you beg me to ruin it.

You let out a shaky breath.

Changbin 💢:

C’mon, baby.

Be a good girl and let me hear how badly you want it.

The words good girl punched straight through your resolve.

Your finger hovered over the record button.

You didn’t overthink it. Didn’t script it. But at the back of your mind, you knew shouldn’t have done it.

You knew the second you hit record—you were crossing a line you couldn’t uncross. But the heat in your stomach, the ache between your legs, the way Changbin’s voice still echoed in your ears? It all left you trembling.

So you moaned. You whimpered.

And you said his name.

“Changbin…”

You sounded so fucking needy. So shameless and desperate.

Exactly how you felt.

You hit send with your heart in your throat, thighs clenched tight around your own hand. And then you waited—seconds dragging, breath caught in your chest.

Then: ping.

🎥A video.

No caption. No warning.

You hesitated, pulse in your ears, then tapped it.

The first thing you saw was skin—his hand, wrapped tight around the base of his cock. Thick. Hard. Heavy. His head was a darker shade of his skin, glistening with precum, veins running thick along the shaft.

The next thing you heard?

His voice. Ragged. Strained.

“This what you want, baby?”

He was filming from above, cock in his fist, his abs flexing as he pumped slowly, steadily. Each stroke was loud and wet. His hand moved like he was imagining you were already wrapped around him—tight, dripping, ruined.

“Been jerking off since you moaned my name,” he growled. “You sound so fucking pretty when you’re begging.”

You bit your lip so hard it almost bled.

“Wanna cum in you so bad,” he panted. “Wanna watch it drip out of you. Want you to feel it for days.”

And then—he grunted. Shuddered.

And came.

Ropes of it. Thick spurts shooting across his abs, the head of his cock twitching violently in his grip.

“That’s all for you,” he breathed, voice wrecked.“Next time, I’m doing that inside.”

The video ended, but you were done for.

You stared at your screen like it had punched you in the stomach. Heat licked down your spine. Your hand had slipped between your legs again before you even realized it.

You replayed the video.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

You wanted to taste it. Feel it. Be under it.

Then your screen lit up again.

Changbin 💢:

You still there?

Your fingers trembled. You didn’t even overthink it.

You typed:

“I need you.”

[📍Location Shared]

And hit send.

—

You barely had time to think.

One knock. That’s all it took.

You opened the door and he was on you—mouth crashing into yours, body pinning you flat against the wall like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

He kissed like a man possessed.

Like your voice note had ruined him. Like your moan had carved something primal into his chest and he couldn’t shake it loose.

His tongue slid past your lips, rough and greedy, tasting you like he had to claim you first.

“Fuck,” he growled against your mouth. “Took you long enough.”

You barely had time to respond—his hands were already under your shirt, palming your tits like they were his, thumbs flicking your nipples until you whimpered.

“This all for me?” he asked, breath hot.

“This pussy been soaking since the second I sent that video?”

You gasped as he shoved one leg between yours, grinding up against your clothed heat—his cock already hard, pressing through his sweats like a weapon.

“God,” he groaned. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Can’t wait anymore.”

He picked you up like you weighed nothing, carried you into your own apartment without breaking the kiss, and dropped you—hard—onto the kitchen counter.

Before you could speak, your shorts were yanked down and off. Your panties, too. Ripped aside with one rough pull.

“Fucking knew it,” he muttered as he spread you open. “Look at this wet little pussy. So damn ready for me.”

“You’re such a—”

“Say it,” he snarled, two fingers sliding through your folds, circling your clit just right.

“Say it while I ruin you.”

You choked on a moan, hips jerking up. His fingers dipped inside—thick, slow, curling—testing you.

“Tight,” he hissed. “So fuckin’ tight already.

How the hell you gonna take my cock, baby?”

You looked down—and froze.

He’d pushed his sweats down just enough, and there it was. All of it.

His cock was thick. Long. Veiny. Angry-red at the tip, already leaking. You’d seen the outline. You’d watched him stroke it on video. But up close?

It was fucking terrifying.

And you wanted every inch.

“I’m gonna mess you up real pretty.” he whispered, dragging the head through your slick folds.

“You’re not walking tomorrow.”

You whimpered, thighs trembling.

“Changbin—fuck—”

“What’s that, princess?” he smirked. “You scared of this cock now?”

“Shut the fuck up and give it to me.”

That was all he needed.

He lined up and slammed in—

The stretch was obscene. Your back arched, a broken cry ripped from your throat. He didn’t wait. Didn’t tease. He bottomed out in one brutal stroke, hips snapping forward until his balls slapped against you.

“FUCK,” he growled, head dropping to your shoulder. “Tight little cunt’s squeezing the shit outta me.”

You clawed at his back, desperate to breathe, but it felt too good. The way he filled you—so deep, so thick—you felt him in your stomach.

“Took it all, huh?” he rasped, pulling back just to thrust in harder. “Greedy little thing.”

He fucked you like he meant it. Like he was punishing you for every time you rolled your eyes in class. For every time you told him to shut up.

You were moaning like a pornstar—loud, shameless, wrecked—as he pounded into you on the kitchen counter, sweat dripping, his abs flexing with every thrust.

“You were made for this cock,” he groaned. “Fucking built to take it like a good girl.”

He pulled out suddenly, grabbed your wrist, and dragged you into the living room.

“Bed’s too far. Couch. Now.”

You stumbled, legs shaking. He bent you over the armrest, slapped your ass once—hard—and buried himself inside again with a brutal snap of his hips.

“This ass…” he groaned. “You know how many times I’ve stared at it in class?”

“Wanted to fuck you bent over all the damn desks.”

Your moans were broken now—choked sobs of pleasure every time his hips slammed into you.

He wrapped his hand around your throat, not too tight—just enough to own you.

“You love this, don’t you?” he growled. “Big cock splitting you open. My hand on your neck. My cum dripping out of you.”

“Yes—fuck—yes, Changbin, please—”

“Please what?”

“Please don’t stop.”

His grip tightened. His thrusts turned savage.

“I’m gonna cum inside you,” he warned. “I want it leaking down your thighs when you go to class tomorrow. I want everyone to know this pussy’s mine.”

You clenched around him—hard—and he lost it.

“Fuck—fuck—baby—”

He came deep inside you, groaning like he was unraveling from the core. Hot spurts filling you up, cock twitching inside your walls.

You collapsed forward, shaking.

But he wasn’t done.

He pulled out, flipped you onto the rug, and dropped to his knees.

“Need to taste you.”

His tongue went straight to your core, licking up his own mess, spreading it across your folds as he devoured you like he’d starved for days.

“Not leaving till you cum on my face.”

And you did.

Screaming his name. Shaking. Barely able to think.

Your first mistake had been sending that photo.

But your biggest mistake?

Letting him in.

Because now?

You’d never get him out.

—

You couldn’t move.

You were sprawled out on your back on the rug, blinking at the ceiling, your entire body throbbing with the aftershocks of what he’d just done to you. You felt wrecked in the best, most glorious way.

And yet—somehow—Changbin was the one panting like he’d just gone through hell.

He lay beside you, arm thrown over his face dramatically.

“I’m filing a formal complaint,” he groaned. “Your pussy should come with a fucking warning label.”

You wheezed out a laugh.

“Says the guy who just broke my uterus.”

He turned his head, looked at you.

And melted.

The shift was instant—his gaze softened, mouth twitching into the tiniest smile. He scooted closer, propped himself on one elbow, and brushed your sweaty hair off your cheek.

“You okay?” he asked, voice gentle. “Like… really okay?”

You nodded. “More than okay.”

He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for ten years. Then leaned in and kissed your forehead, your nose, your cheekbone—everywhere but your lips, like he was saving those for dessert.

“I swear I didn’t mean to fuck you like a caveman,” he mumbled. “I blacked out. You made that sound and I was just—gone.”

“You were terrifying,” you whispered, smiling. “In the hottest possible way.”

That made him grin.

He reached over for the hoodie he’d left slung on the chair and helped you into it—actually helped, like lifting your arms, guiding it over your head, kissing your shoulder once it was on.

Then he grabbed a warm towel, knelt between your legs, and started cleaning you up with the softest, most careful touch.

“Can’t have my girl leaking all over the carpet,” he murmured.

“Your girl?”

He looked up with a cocky smirk.

“You just let me raw dog you and you screamed my name for the neighbors, baby. Don’t play shy now.”

You tried to glare, but he leaned forward and kissed your knee. Then your thigh. Then higher.

“Next time,” he said, “I’m taking you slower. Gonna edge you until you’re crying.”

Your stomach flipped.

“You’re already thinking about next time?”

He glanced up at you with a boyish little shrug.

“I think about you all the time.”

Your heart stuttered. Because it didn’t sound like a line. It sounded real. Raw. Like the truth.

He saw your expression shift and leaned in, his lips brushing your temple.

“Not just the sex,” he murmured.

“I think about you when you fight with the professor. When you tie your hoodie strings in knots. When you roll your eyes at me like you always do.”

“Binnie—”

“I like you,” he whispered.

Simple. Honest.

And it hit you harder than any orgasm.

You buried your face in his chest. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around you, one big palm cupping the back of your head like he could hide you there forever.

“You hungry?” he murmured.

“Starving.”

“Good. I got us pizza and fried chicken.”

You looked up. “You really ordered food while I was moaning your name?”

He smirked. “Actually did it on my way here but I can multitask baby.”

You laughed into his chest, and he kissed your head again.

When the food arrived, you sat curled in his lap, eating from his chopsticks while he kissed sauce off your lips between bites.

Later, when you were tucked into bed and halfway to sleep, he whispered:

“You were fucking perfect tonight.”

“I’m gonna be addicted to you now.”

You didn’t say anything back. You just pulled his arm tighter around you and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles.

Because you already were.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note: Its been a hot minute without a Binnie smut 💪🏻 How are we liking this cute little enemies to lovers?? 🤭❤️

Taglist: @tsunderelino @innieandsungielover @inlovewithstraykids @reignessance @jeonismm @sttnficrecs @herejusttemporary @krssliu @kenia4 @miilquetoast @thackery-blinks @leeminho-hall @suga-is-bae @butterflydemons @inejghafawifesblog @malunar28replies @minchanlimbo @mal-lunar-28 @breakmeofftbr @itvenorica124 @slut4junho @deepblueocean97 @thequibbie @yaorzu-blog @imagine-all-the-imagines @just-bria @mischievousleeknow @ifyxu @melanctton @thelostprincessofasgard @binniebb @sillylittlecat1 @darkwitchoferie @m-325 @headfirstfortoro @imseungminsgf @ihrtlix @vernorica123 @hwangjoanna @swordswallower2000 @niki007 @yxna-bliss @firelordtsuki @justwonder113 @mbioooo0000 @sammhisphere @nebugalaxy @cutecucumberkimberly @chancloud8 @sunflwerstar @shxdowofdarkness @aeyla @annyeongffs @beppybeesnuggets @iamwritteninyourstars @crisle19 @stxysakura @ocean-glacierblue

[jaggedamethyst]

clandestine

viktor (arcane) x stripper f!reader

pairing: viktor (arcane) x f!reader

content: 18+ minors dni, smut, not thigh but lap riding, strip club obviously, some cursing, porn some plot idk, established relationship, secret relationship, not proofread

notes: i am not personally a stripper, but I have somehow seen a lot of movies and youtube vloggers explaining the culture and mindset they have…about doing this to get them to a next phase of their life. some people may not feel that way at all, and just do it to feel empowered….or literally just because its a job. no reason is more valued than the other, and I hope I did this justice because I have the utmost respect for every job. please let me know if anything isn’t hitting the way it should in that regard and i will make the edits <3

also, not an au… this was kinda inspired by lest. idk if it was ever confirmed, but the character kinda reads to me as a sex worker and I do love that. normalize including those stories in media.

word count: 2.1k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Stepping into the building always felt particularly specific for Viktor. The music was melodic but slightly too loud. Flashing lights almost always sent him off balance, leaning into his cane. A vibration pulsed—bouncing off every wall hard enough to make him physically swat the feeling away with his head. Yet, whenever he’d find his seat and glance across the room—all of it faded away.

Had there not been a physical spotlight, Viktor could still find you a mile away. He was completely entranced, mesmerized by the way you moved—even more so by the fact that it was an act. You were sweet, saccharine even, and you never showed it. That side was all for him. Only him.

When you were at the club, there was a veil over you—projecting a unique exterior. Dancing allowed you to disconnect and channel an identity you didn’t in everyday life. Often, you were misunderstood. Even more common was for you to be ignored—it wasn’t like that at work. You were respected and held at the same regard as everyone else. There were rules, and everyone followed them. You were an equal and you appreciated that.

Regardless of that feeling on stage, the money was also damn good. You grew up in the Undercity and you knew what it was like to have nothing. This fact was something you and Viktor bonded over initially. Later, both of your intellect and fondness for academics. He empathized, too, with you having no family…even more the fact that you started this venture to pay for your studies. That’s how the two of you found yourself dating. There was an unwavering kindness about Viktor, you loved that. The secrecy made every interaction all the more interesting, especially in the confines of the Piltover club.

The shift started like any other. You were on stage, moving to the rhythm of your song, Lest in your peripheral. You’d often recall how she was the first person to make you feel truly comfortable. She’d linger during your sets, calling security when needed, even speaking up for you when she realized you couldn’t. Lest gave you the push to take control, and the money really showed it.

You glanced down a bit, seeing some of your money get swept to the side. Lest had your labeled basket in her hands, grabbing some out of the way for you. In that split second, you saw a glint toward the back corner. You smirked, seeing your boyfriend spread on a chair—observing you through low eyes. You sped your tempo up, the stage now cleared enough for you.

Viktor noticed your arched a brow and stifled a chuckle. As you picked up the pace, he leaned back more comfortably in the chair. A hand held onto his cane, knuckles paling at the forceful grip. His other hand rested on the chair. His legs spread entirely, something he knew you loved. He was locked in, eyes roaming over every inch of your body as you danced. Your back was to him, then, ass shaking seductively in a way he’d always appreciated. You bent simultaneously, making a show of your legs before dropping into a split. You rolled your neck, looking toward Viktor. He watched your hand trace over your leg before tapping on it twice with a smile.

You’d definitely seen him back there.

Lest gave a knowing smirk, nodding over her shoulder “I see you spotted your regular.”

“Sure did.” You laughed at that, swinging your legs around. “It’s gonna be a fun night.”

“Oh I can tell.”

Lest didn’t know the two of you were dating, nobody did. That was the allure. Viktor could be the “regular” who showed up and dotted on you while you played the helpless stripper who so desperately needed his money. Neither were true, except that Viktor did love to spend his money on you.

Lest spoke up again, “You should head back there, before he gets restless…you know how they are.”

You moved to stand, doing a final spin and wave to the audience. “You’re right…can’t miss out on the money.”

“Exactly.” You moved to help add the rest of your money to the basket, Lest gripping it for dear life. “I’ll put this in the usual spot. We can do count after you rake in the big bucks.”

You high-fived Lest, watching as she turned immediately. You turned away, too, knowing that the chance of any of your money being taken was close to zero. You’d trust her with your life—so much so that you often debated telling her more about yourself outside of the club. Part of you figured she knew about your relationship and just played along. The thought of that made you love her friendship even more.

There was a drag in your step. You purposely made your strides slow as you inched toward the corner Viktor had chosen for tonight. His eyes had yet to leave you, but his free hand circled the arm rest. He was pent up, which was perfect, you thought.

He watched as you finally reached him, standing over his seated figure with your hands on your hips. You spoke first, yelling a bit over the music. “Funny seeing you here.”

He played along, eyes raking over your body. “I frequent here relatively often, do I not?”

You shrugged, looking away, “One could say that.”

He smiled, moving to stand up. You were a bit shorter than him, but slightly taller now thanks to your heels. He glanced down at them in adoration, loving the feeling of looking up at you. “You were stellar, love.”

You raised your head, flicking your hair. “Thank you, baby.” Your eyes lingered on one another, the genuine feeling of affection sitting between you both. Leaning down to whisper in his ear, you broke that sweet feeling. You played to his true intention; you knew why he was here. “Wanna go somewhere more private?” You let your lips linger for a second, hands coming up to rub his neck and behind his ears with your thumbs. “I know a place.”

He watched you pull back, looking up through his lashes. The smile on your face absolutely melted him. He reached down, slowly searching his pocket. He flipped up a bill that was settled between two fingers. “Lead the way.”

You plucked the money from him and grasped his now empty hand. The exchange had its own unspoken rules—Viktor would always pay, you would let him. The inherently degrading nature never found its way to your relationship but was instead a way to keep up appearances. For Viktor, it was yet another way to show his love for you. He’d give it all if he could—you deserved it.

He followed you, stalking behind your enticing figure. You’d shift every so often, your reflection moving with the tone of the lights. The sound reverberated off of you both, pulsing between your interlocked fingers. The bass slowly faded as you walked down the long hallway, even more so as you entered the secluded room.

The lights were low, a quiet music lulling in the room. Candles lit the area and added a hint of vanilla to the air Viktor appreciated—it smelled like you. He closed his eyes at the thought, enveloped by the scent and feeling of your skin on his palm. You glanced up, observing that the light on the cameras had been switched off. You huffed gratefully, knowing you had to thank Lest again later.

Viktor felt the pull of your hands and mindlessly followed until his back met the couch. He cleared his throat, looking over to you beside him. “So,” he paused, “How was your day?”

“Do you actually want to know how my day was?” You pursed your lips, sarcasm riddled all over them. “Or are you just indulging me so you seem like a gentleman?”

Viktor was frazzled at that, “What? No…” He brushed a hand to move his hair out of his face, “No! I would like to know-“

A kiss to his cheek interrupted him, “I know.” You nodded slowly. “But you should just ask for what you really want…I’m a busy woman after all.”

The flicker in his eye was one you genuinely loved—the switch from caring boyfriend to infatuated client.

“And what is it you think I want?” A hand brushed over your cheek, his thumb slowly finding its way to your lips. He looked down, rubbing his fingers across your skin.

You reached down, then, a hand firmly landing on his thigh. You maintained eye contact as you spoke—sliding a hand further up his leg. “I think I have a pretty good idea…”

“Is that so?” Viktor leaned back further to adjust his lap and purposely push his hardened length into your palm.

The two of you leaned in closer, the pull of each other undeniable. Slowly, your lips collided. There was an urgency, yet neither of you acted on it—an attempt to savor the moment. You maneuvered then, lips still connected. Viktor hummed against your mouth—a sound that left you smiling as you pushed a leg over his lap.

The once soft push of your lips together was now bordering on frantic. Every so often, Viktor would move to pull and suck on one of your lips—urging you on. You were lost in the motion—in him. Your hands snaked up the back of his neck and tangled with the hair at the base of his neck. With a forceful tug, you pulled him back. He was looking at you now, face flushed and lips completely swollen and glistening. Looking at him this way already had your underwear dampening. You refused to break eye contact, lowering yourself just on top of Viktor. Sucking in a breath, he tilted his head back—leaning into the couch cushion.

You began to circle your hips. The friction of the restrained material had you feral. “Fuck…” You continued, slowly circling and moving up and down his erection. “Fuck, Viktor.”

He matched you motion suddenly, circling his hips up into you. The motion had your insides pulsing. You couldn’t keep up the act, leaning down into the warmth of his neck. You felt him kiss and suck on your neck. He trailed kisses up and around your ear—moving around your hairline. His hands found your back, pulling you into him even more. Erratic breaths filled the room. All that was missing, you thought, were the lewd sounds of slapping you so desired. You’d give anything to be fully naked right now, letting him work all over you. But there was no time. The thought only spurred you on.

He spoke suddenly, “I needed this.”

“I know,” You push and pull into him faster, “Me too.”

The fabric barrier between the two of you was soaked now, a mixture of both of you. You slid back a bit, arms length distance away from Viktor. His mouth was agape from the lack of sensation, but quickly lost any will to argue when you began to swirl on his tip. He was always so sensitive there—and you were close. The rubbing on your clit had your breath shallow, your motions less rhythmic. He noticed, grabbing your waist to guide you to a speed that had both of your eyes rolling back.

“I’m close….”

Viktor pulled you into a kiss and mumbled into your mouth. “I am too.”

With a few more pumps against each other, you were finishing all over each other’s clothes. You accidentally broke the kiss, gasping for the breath that escaped you at the burning sensation in your body. Viktor didn’t stop, though, pulling you in impossibly closer. He worked the both of you through, choking out a whine as he shot out ropes into his pants.

The two of you sat there, embracing each other for a while. The feeling of each other was enough in the moment—drowning out the sensory overload of the club. Your finger tips traced over his features. You smoothed over his brows, the moles by his eye and lip, the divets in his cheekbones. He was entirely mesmerized by you—a devotion all over his face.

Light taps at the door broke the moment. You knew it would be Lest; she’d often drop by when you took a bit longer than management would like for just one customer. Opening the door a crack, you saw a pile there—a change of clothes for you and a smaller hand towel. You scooped them up quickly, moving back into the room.

Viktor was still watching you, a hand finding its way back to his cane. His grasp wasn’t as tight as before, you smiled to yourself at that.

You stripped quickly, moving to clean yourself and change your clothes. “Missed you today.”

Viktor pushed himself forward in the seat. “And I, you.” He staggered over to you, a hand pushing in and out of his pocket. He held up a bill again, “We should do this again sometime.”

A small chuckle escaped you. “Sure, baby.” You pecked a kiss on his cheek as he walked by you. “I’ll see you at home.”

[hajimeseyo]

You're staring, Izana notices. 

He has no idea who you are, really, but you've been trying (and obviously failing) to sneak subtle glances at him the entire time since he stepped into the convenience store. It's starting to throw him off, just a little. For all he knows, you could be a spy from an opposing gang. Not a very good one, though. 

Your gaze follows him as he walks towards the cashier and pays, and even as he walks towards the exit, plastic bags in hand. He pays it no mind as he feels it shift off him, the sound of the cashier greeting you the last thing he hears as he steps outside the store. 

It didn't seem like you were going to pick a fight with him, he might as well just leave it be. 

Besides, any gang that dared to come after Tenjiku would just be mercilessly crushed under his heel. A spy or two wouldn't change that fact.

The clouds above him rumble, dark and heavy, and he frowns, looking up at the cloudy sky. It would be a pain in the ass if it rained while he was in the middle of walking home. Maybe he could call Kakucho to pick him up. Or he could just buy an umbrella from the store right behind him…

The sound of footsteps snap him out of his thoughts, and he glances to the side to see you, head lowered and lips mouthing numbers as you take inventory of the things in your plastic bag. You don't seem to have noticed him, he notes in amusement.

His theory proves true when you look up, done from counting, and nearly jump at the sight of him staring straight at you. Your eyes are wide, the way you freeze reminding him of a prey caught by its hunter, and he can't stop himself from having a little fun. 

“You were staring at me quite a lot earlier, huh?” He says, relishing in the way your face flushes with embarrassment, and the way you instantly try (and fail) to school it into a look of nonchalance. “Is there a problem?”

You cough awkwardly, eyes suddenly unable to look at him despite being fully glued onto him just minutes ago. Izana watches you squirm, all too used to these shows of discomfort. Based on most of his past interactions, you'll probably come up with some lame excuse on why you were staring at him, then take the first opportunity you have to run away. Or get defensive, and aggressively deny you were doing anything of the sort. People always act the same when confronted with their actions. Izana's used to the same old song and dance. 

He wonders which route you’ll take.

To his surprise, you take neither of them. 

You seem to come to a decision, gaze snapping up to him, nervous but suddenly full of what seems like determination.

“There's no problem, I was just staring because–” You falter a little here, cheeks reddening a little again, before you pull yourself together with a quick shake of the head. “Because, well…your eyes.”

“Hm?” That response certainly wasn’t what he was expecting. “What about them?”

“They're beautiful.”

The words are said so plainly, without a trace of any doubt, and Izana is shocked speechless. 

While he doesn't deny that he's good looking, the word ‘beautiful’ and any part of him have never been together in the same sentence before. That he's heard of, at least. Even if any of his subordinates had the guts to consider him ‘beautiful’, they definitely wouldn’t have the guts to say it to his face. Granted, you probably don’t have any idea who he is, but still. This is definitely a first.

(And even so, the thought that something about him could be beautiful was something that had never occurred to him.)

“...Really?” The words come out in a whisper before he could stop himself.

You nod vigorously, and once again Izana is thrown off by the fact that it's something you're so sure of. As if the thought of it being untrue has never even crossed your mind.

His response seems to appear to you as an invitation to talk more, as you continue speaking, hesitation fading away with each word that comes out of your mouth. “They're just such a beautiful shade of purple, like amethysts. I've never seen anything like it before. And paired with your long white eyelashes and white hair, you look like someone's painting came to life.”

"I don't know if anyone's told you before, but you're really a sight to behold."

There's a light, pleasant feeling in his chest.

He doesn't know what it is. 

“Ah!” You suddenly slap your hands over your mouth. “I spoke too much! God, I must've sounded like a creep, I'm so sorry–”

A laugh cuts you off from your panicked rambling. Izana doesn't quite know why he's laughing, but seeing you panicking over saying the wrong things despite being fully shameless literally right before just seemed so funny, and well, there's such a nice warmth in his chest; indulging in it doesn't hurt, right?

(He doesn’t notice the stars in your eyes as you stare, almost in awe, at his laughing visage.)

“What’s your name?” You’re interesting, he’s decided. It would be a shame to let you just slip away.

“[name].”

He lets out a hum. “[name], huh…got it.” 

“Wait.” You call out to him, just as he turns and begins to walk away. “What’s yours?”

He doesn’t notice, but as he turns back, there’s a genuine, serene smile on his face that would’ve shocked even the noisiest Haitani twins into silence at seeing it on the face of the highly feared leader of Tenjiku.

“Izana. Don’t forget it.”

(He’s scolded nonstop by Kakucho when he shows up at home, soaking wet from the heavy downpour outside.

“It’s not like you to be so careless.” Kakucho huffs, drying his hair roughly with all the fierceness of an Asian mom. “You knew it was going to start raining on your way back, why didn’t you just call for one of us to get you from the store?”

Izana hums unconcernedly. “I was already walking away from the store, I couldn’t just stop and turn back.”

“Huh?? Why the hell not??”

“Don’t be stupid, Kakucho. I would’ve looked so uncool.”

“??????”)

(part 2 here!)

[coldhndss]

One and only

Rin Itoshi

self-prompted

Rin is known to many as blunt and unfriendly. He doesn’t enjoy talking to new people and is almost always on the brink of losing it. Though, this slump that he’s currently in isn’t a reflection of how he always was. Rin used to be bright-faced, and pretty easily excitable.

You’ve known that from the start.

You and Rin used to chat with each other on the way home from school as kids. He’d tell you about how amazing his brother was at soccer, bursting with smiles; as though he was vicariously living through Sae’s talent on the field. When you questioned him about his own skill, he’d tell you that it doesn’t matter, and that his brother was simply better at playing than he was. He said that he'd settle for second place if it meant he'd get to see Sae in the spotlight beside him.

You would cheer him on from the sidelines, watching the local matches he and his brother used to play against other schools. To Rin, there was no one on the field but him and Sae. Though to you, there was no one there but Rin. 

You can’t recall when it started, but there came a day where you were no longer able to listen to Rin mentally lower his own skill in favour of seeing his brother succeed. He looked so oddly happy settling for second place that it frustrated you. You knew his talents; you knew how much he enjoyed winning. What made him put all of his trust in someone other than himself? Couldn’t he also strive for first place while cheering on his brother? None of it made sense…

All he used to speak about were things including his brother’s skill. You get it, younger siblings typically admire their older siblings. Though they shouldn’t think ill of themselves just to heighten the other persons social standing. After all, the two of you had grown up together. You used to talk all the time, play games with each other, have sleepovers, walk home together. It always meant a lot to you, but did it ever mean a lot to him?

He had you, but he also had his brother.  

You had him, and only him.

You noticed slight shifts in Rin’s personality. He stopped joking and smiling as much, though he never pushed you away. He became distant, as though something was constantly on his mind. You noticed his patience wavering, and his soft, subtle smile fading away.

It was as though you were reaching out for something that was no longer there.

Hanging around him started to feel like being around a brick wall. The two of you now had little to no interactions with each other. He would finish his work, and pack his bag immediately, leaving the classroom as though he had something more important to do. He wouldn’t offer his textbook when you forgot yours, and when you spoke to him about your interests, he seemed like he was listening, sure; but he wouldn’t pause what he was doing to give you attention, or even make it look like he had any interest.

“Maybe he’s just become bored of me”, you think to yourself. You know him. You know he wouldn’t tell you about his issues unless you pry. You also know that he would keep it to himself and go about it in his own cathartic way.

Despite this, you felt like he would snap instantly if you brought it up to him. Like he was a boiling pot brimming with water; and despite it having a lid, liquid still trickled down its sides.

Though… the thought of leaving him alone troubled you. It pained you to see him in such a state, and though he wasn’t showing any signs of wavering; you would at least put in the effort to find out what was troubling him, even if he pushes you away as a result of it. At least one day, when he finds that person who will put out the fire from under him, he’ll realise that your carefully chosen words were the shards of ice that would never melt in that boiling pot of water.

Classes had concluded for the week. Students were packing their bags, laughing, and making plans for the weekend. As usual, Rin was already halfway out of the door. Despite being close your entire life, an overwhelming feeling of loneliness dawned upon you as you realised that if you don’t do something now, you may never be able to again. Each step he took felt like another thread of a worn-out rope was snapping before your eyes, and you could no longer endure it.

“Rin..!” You called out to him. Your tone was shaky; you weren’t used anything like this.

The rest of the class had left by this point. He stopped dead in his tracks, his back facing you.

“What?” His voice was blunt. He had never been extremely upbeat, but the thought that he’d been bottling everything up behind the scenes pained you.

After a few moments of silence, he finally turned around to face you, looking you deadpan in the face. It was the first time you’d spoken to him face-to-face in weeks. His eyes looked empty, yet so full of unexplained emotion.

You twiddled with your fingers that were now glossed with sweat from your clammy palms while looking down at your feet. Why were you so nervous? You’ve spoken to him thousands of times.. What was different now? It lingered at the back of your mind; you knew you were too scared to interrupt this this friendship, although deteriorating. At one stage, it had been peaceful, even fun. Though at this point, it had become anything but peaceful.

“If you don’t need anything then I’m leaving.” He turned his back once more, but you refused to see him take another step.

“Wait.” You forced a strengthened tone despite your nerves. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Stepping closer towards him, you get a better look at his expression. His aqua eyes, once filled with so much passion, were now void of emotion.

“Um… I need to ask you something.” You stuttered on your words, heart pounding so loudly that you thought he’d be able to hear it.

Rin sighs, frustrated. He pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Get to the point already, Yuu.” His patience is waning.

You take in a shallow breath, preparing to finally put your emotions on the line.

“Rin, um… have you been feeling okay lately?”

Shoot. That was such a bad question!

He looked at you as though you were speaking gibberish. His brows furrowed, and his gaze was now somewhat scrutinizing.

“I’ve been fine.” He immediately replied before turning back around. “Since that’s all, I’m leaving.”

No, you weren’t about to let this happen again. You reached out and grabbed his arm in the midst of his step. You wanted to say something, but your throat felt constricted.

To your surprise, he didn’t move your arm away. You knew something was bothering him. He wouldn’t push you away or insult you. It was as though he wanted the comfort of someone else, but he wouldn’t bring himself to ask for it.

Before you knew it, moisture had spread across your eyes, glossing your sight. A warm drop travelled down your cheek, giving way for a wave of tears. It became so quiet that the droplets of your tears tapping onto the ground were audible.

“Please.. don’t leave..” Barely being able to choke your words out, you were doing all you could to keep him listening. “I can’t stand seeing you like this… What happened to you..?”

He didn’t answer.

You continued to pry, raising your voice slightly.

“What happened to us?”

Suddenly, Rin turns around, and yanks his arm from your grasp.

“Are you trying to make me feel guilty? You really don’t know anything about me.” He scoffed. “I was stupid to ever befriend you as a kid. You probably still think I’m content with being second place, don’t you? How pathetic.”

You’d know if he told you. if he took the time to communicate his feelings, to let you hear his troubles. You had no words. What more could you say after that?

Though you did notice one thing; he was still here. He took the battering and didn’t leave. Somewhere in there, Rin you remember is still there. You decide against attacking him with words.

“You’re still here though. You’ve always been here.” Your hand fell down his arm, fingers intertwining with his. “You would’ve gotten rid of me by now if you really thought our friendship was stupid.” Your voice was soft as you spoke, careful not to be too harsh on him.

His eyes widened momentarily. It seems you struck a chord.

“No.. no way. It is stupid.. that’s why.. that’s..” He stuttered; his gaze scattered.

“Rin.. do I have to spell it out for you? I’m not going anywhere. Even if you call me stupid.” You smiled softly, hoping your words would break through the wall he built.

There it was. That look in his eyes that you’ve been yearning to see again for years.

Tears shone in his eyes, adorning a small gleam of light. His lips parted slightly as though he had something to say. He tilted his head and placed it on your shoulder, arms wrapping tightly around your back. You could feel the desperation in his grasp; like he was asking you to never let go. Slinging your arms over his shoulders and around his neck, you felt his breath grazing your neck.

“Why.. Why did you persist..?” He murmurs. Despite all this, Rin can’t seem to fathom why someone like you remained so insistent on digging out his troubles.

“I would never sit by and watch you drown in your own worries. Especially if I know that I can do something about them.” Even though you were holding him in your arms, you felt a little more confident knowing he technically can’t see you saying something so embarrassing.

You shift one arm up to his hair and gently caress it.

“I have no one else..” Your voice shook slightly  “You’ve always been there, even when you were mad. Why would I let you slip from in-between my fingers..?”

You hear a sniffle from Rin. “…You’re not going anywhere after that.”

[khaylin27]

So Long, London

pairing: carlos sainz x norris reader; lando norris x sister reader; a teaser of oscar piastri x reader hehe

series: the tortured poets department

synopsis: when carlos joined mclaren, it was easy for y/n norris to fall in love with him. throughout 2020 to 2023 y/n norris could see that carlos was drifting away from her. this could be due to carlos' suggested depression after leaving mclaren to go to ferrari, him being unready for marriage, and his infidelity towards in their relationship.

warnings: infidelity; depression; mentions of sex; one sided relationship; also let’s pretend charles was with alexandra in 2021 to now

author's note: this is literally my favorite song from the album. it describes a time in my life where i put so much into a relationship but they kept drifting away. hope you guys like it 🥹

2020

I saw in my mind fairy lights through the mist I kept calm and carried the weight of the rift Pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away

It was so easy to love and be in a relationship with your brother's team mate, Carlos Sainz. But once the pandemic hit, you saw the spark of your relationship fade slowly.

"No quiero estar en McLaren más hermosa." I don't want to be in McLaren anymore beautiful. Carlos tells you as he shows you the contract Ferrari sent him for 2021 to 2023.

During the pandemic, you and Carlos were sharing an apartment together in London. He would teach you Spanish so that he can speak to you in his native language. "I thought you loved being in McLaren babe? What would my brother say if you leave?"

"There's no 'if' hermosa. I don't care what your brother says because he was on board with Zack on putting Daniel in my seat for next year." Carlos says angry because you brought up your brother. They've had a great relationship throughout the 2019 to 2020 seasons, but once Lando sided with Zach on putting Daniel in Carlos' seat their friendship tore apart. "My decision is final. I'm going to Ferrari whether anyone likes it or not."

You kept calm and walked to where Carlos was to give him a tight hug. "If it makes you happy babe, I'm with you on this one." He didn't hug you back the same way you hugged him.

You didn't know it at the time but this was the first sign that Carlos was drifting away.

2021

My spine split from carrying us up the hill Wet through my clothes, weary bones caught the chill I stopped trying to make him laugh Stopped trying to drill the safe

Once the 2021 F1 season started and covid regulations lifted, you thought your relationship would get better since Carlos joined Ferrari but it didn't. Ferrari kept him busy with back to back events that you weren't invited to because of your connection with McLaren.

When Carlos would come home from these events, drunk and not mentally there. You knew he would drink himself away due to the depression he was going through after leaving McLaren. You would try to keep the relationship alive by having sex with him. Even though it did keep your sexual relationship somewhat alive, it felt like your spine was going to split from carrying your relationship alive.

Ferrari did invite you to an event after you complained to Alexandra (let's pretend Charles was with her during this time) one time during a Grand Prix weekend. It was a different atmosphere than what you were used to at McLaren. You felt wet through your clothes and chill through your weary bones during the event.

You and Carlos were sitting in a booth with Charles and Alexandra. You smiled at Charles and Alexandra's interactions together. She would always make Charles laugh and it made you miss when you used to do that with Carlos. Making Carlos laugh made it feel safe in your relationship with him, but not anymore.

I didn't opt in to be your odd man out I founded the club she's heard great things about I left all I knew, you left me at the house by the Heath

The event that Ferrari was hosting was in a club in Monaco. Carlos left your booth to get a 'drink' while you were talking with Alexandra and Charles.

"So Y/N how do you like the event?" Charles yells through the loud music.

"It's okay I guess. It's different than McLaren events." You say uncomfortable. McLaren was like home to you, they were family. You left all that to be with Carlos and follow his dreams. Yet you both aren’t happy with leaving McLaren.

Alexandra can tell that you were uncomfortable with the question. "Why don't we go to the bar Y/N?" You nod at her question as she takes your hand to walk together to the bar.

Once you arrive at the bar, Alexandra orders drinks for both of you but you hear something that was interesting. "Girl, I just had the best sex with that one Ferrari driver."

It was two girls that got invited to do press for this event. The other girl asks "Oh my god. Which one?"

"The Spanish one! Let me tell you, he's very good with his hands." You start tearing up as she continues to explain what your boyfriend did to her. It was things that he never did to you. "He told me that he hasn't had sex like that in months."

Alexandra looks at you with the drinks in her hands. She notices the tears going down your face and ruining your makeup. "Y/N are you okay?"

"No, I'm not." You say politely as you wipe your tears. "Is it possible for you to call an uber for me? I want to go home."

Alexandra nods and goes on her phone to reserve you an uber. While she was doing that you were breaking down crying on the bar counter.

I stopped CPR, after all it's no use The spirit was gone, we would never come to And I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free

Hours after you got home from the event by yourself, Carlos comes home late. Usually you would have sex as soon as he got home to keep your relationship alive, but it's no use. Why would you put so much into him if the spirit he had for you was gone?

"Hermosa, beautiful can we have sex?" He asks drunkenly while your body was turned away from him. "Por favor." please

"No Carlos." You say as you try to go back to sleep.

"Why not hermosa? beautiful You looked so pretty in that dress you wore?" He peppers your arm and back with kisses trying to get you in the mood for sex.

"Carlos stop. I'm pissed off at you right now." You sit up and look at him. You can tell he was drunk because he didn't care that you were crying. "I'm pissed off that I spent so much of my youth on you. We left the only place that we were happy at thinking it was better for you but it wasn’t. Only for you to hookup with a whore at an event while I was there. What happens when I’m not there? Is that why Ferrari doesn’t invite me to anything??"

"I'm sorry hermosa. beautiful It’s just been emotionally draining after the past couple of months." He hugs you.

"I know it's been but you're not helping if you keep doing this." As you wipe your tears you then add. "I thought this move would be better for both of us. Remember how we dreamed of getting married and starting a family?"

"That's not my dream Y/N, that's your dream. My dream is to be World Champion and I won't let any distractions get in my way." It was like a slap in the face when Carlos told you this. All your life you've always wanted a husband and to start a family. You thought it would be with Carlos but it would be a 'distraction in getting World Champion.'

"Goodnight hermosa beautiful Te amo I love you" he says as he hugs you and falls asleep.

And you say I abandoned the ship But I was going down with it My white knuckle dying grip Holding tight to your quiet resentment 

Ever since the night of the Ferrari event, you haven’t been to any Ferrari events or even to the Ferrari garages. Instead you’ve been hanging out with your brother in the McLaren garage.

It was 2021 of the Russian Grand Prix, Lando had spun and grazed the wall on one of his laps that caused him to not win the Russian Grand Prix.

Once Lando gets back into the garage and gets out of his car, you can see the tears in his eyes. “It’s okay little bro.” He pulls you into a tight. You knew that this was race was emotionally draining on him.

“If I just pitted and changed my tires I would’ve won.” He continues to cry.

“There’s nothing you could’ve done Lan. I just thank god you’re okay and nothing happened to you.” You hug him tighter.

“Thank you for being here Y/N.” He says as he pulls away from hugging you. As you both wipe your tears, he looks at the screen and sees Carlos on the podium. “You should go and be with Carlos. At least get to celebrate with him.”

“It’s okay. I’ll wait until he’s done to celebrate with him.” You give him a fake smile in hopes that he doesn’t see that you’re faking it.

Little did you know, you weren’t going to be celebrating with Carlos tonight.

“Why the hell weren’t you with me celebrating my win?” Carlos yells at you while you’re sitting on the couch just staring at him.

“Didn’t think you needed me since that whore was wrapped around you.” You saw the photos that F1 gossip accounts were posting on Twitter.

Carlos looks at you with frustration. “I’m sorry hermosa beautiful but I needed to let off the excitement .” You role your eyes at his response.

“‘Let off the excitement’ you have a girlfriend at home waiting for you.” You explain to him.

“Well you should’ve been around me instead of that girl.” He says putting the blame back on you.

“I was taking care of my brother. Your best friend that could’ve won today but didn’t. At least try to comfort your best friend instead of having whores going around you.”

“I swear ever since that night, you’ve just abandoned me and everything we’ve built.”

You laugh at what Carlos says, “you’re saying I’ve abandoned you and everything we’ve built. Oh honey, I’m just going down with it.”

Your knuckles are turning white as you’re clenching the pillow so you don’t cry in front of this man. “I’m leaving to London to be with Lando. Fix whatever is going on with you to fix this relationship.” You knew deep down that Carlos resented you for what you said that night.

My friends said it isn't right to be scared Every day of a love affair Every breath feels like rarest air When you're not sure if he wants to be there

Once your plane landed in London, Lando was waiting for you at the arrival terminal. After you got your bags and got in his car you explained to him what’s been going on with Carlos for the past two years after he left McLaren.

“That’s not healthy Y/N and you’ve been going through this for two years now?” Lando asks you and you just nod in silence.

“It feels like every day is a love affair. Every breath I took around him feels like rarest air.” You try so hard not to cry in front of your little brother right now but the tears keep pouring. “I’m not even sure if he wants to be in this relationship. It broke my heart when he said he didn't want to get married or start a family because it would be a 'distraction'”

Lando hugs you and more tears start pouring out. “It’s okay Y/N. You don’t always have to be strong for me.”

“I know, but you guys were very close and I don’t want to ruin your friendship with him.” You explain the reason why you didn’t tell him for so long.

“Whether we’re friends or not, he shouldn’t make you feel like that. It isn’t right to be scared in a relationship.” You hug him tighter as the tears keep pouring down.

“I know, but I love him.”

2022

You swore that you loved me but where were the clues? I died on the altar waiting for the proof You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days

After months of you living in London with Lando, Carlos was desperate to have you back. During the 2022 season, you decided to go back with Carlos only if Carlos marries you. Carlos agreed and you both started planning the wedding.

You two decided to plan the wedding in Spain at the end of July during the mandatory summer break. The wedding was going to be beautiful. All of your family, friends, and colleagues would be invited to the big wedding. Sadly, you wouldn't be getting married.

As you're walking down the aisle with your father, you look ahead and see that Carlos wasn't standing at the alter. "Where is Carlos?" Your father asks Carlos Sr. and Reyes, Carlos' parents.

You look at Lando, who was Carlos' best man. "Lando please be honest with me. Where is Carlos?"

"He needed to talk to his cousin, just pre wedding jitters I think." He smiles at you trying to make you feel okay but deep down you knew.

"Carlos is not coming back." Caco, Carlos' cousin comes up to you and the family.

"¿Qué quieres decir con que no volverá? what do you mean he's not coming back" Carlos Senior asks his nephew.

"I tried to keep him here but he wanted to leave." Caco looks at you with sad eyes. "Carlos told me to give you this." It was a note that Carlos hand wrote for you.

To Y/N,

I'm sorry for leaving you on the altar waiting for me. I couldn't get married and get distracted from the dreams I truly wanted. I wish I could do this in a better way and not put you through so much pain. So long Y/N, we had a good run. I know I'm not the one for you hermosa beautiful.

Love, Carlos

You breakdown once you finish reading his note. He 'loved' you but where was the clues? He left you on the altar waiting for the proof. He sacrificed your relationship and the dreams you wanted to achieve together so that he could be World Champion.

2023

And I'm just getting color back into my face I'm just mad as hell cause I loved this place

It took you awhile to start coming back to the races again. Every time you would think about going to a race to support your brother, all you could think about is Carlos. You loved the races but it made you mad as hell cause you loved Carlos.

Lando invited you to the Las Vegas Grand Prix to celebrate his birthday and to watch him race. At Lando's birthday party, you met his new teammate Oscar Piastri. "Oscar this is my sister, Y/N." Lando introduces Oscar to you before he leaves to dj again.

"Hello Y/N, it's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard great things about you from Lando." He smiles at you.

"Oh really? What did he say?" Now you were intrigued about what Lando says about you behind your back.

"For one, he didn't tell me that you were so beautiful." You blush at Oscar's compliment. "But he does tell me how much he misses you being around the paddock. He says you're like the 'warm sun' whenever you're around."

"I know I've been absent in paddock due to what happened last year." You take a sip of alcohol after bringing up your failed wedding. "But I'm back where I've always belonged. McLaren was and will always be family." You say as you smile at Lando and Zack being dj together.

"Well I'm glad you're back and I can't wait to get to know you better." Oscar gets two shots from the bartender and gives you one. He smiles at you and says, "Cheers to new beginnings."

"Yeah. Cheers to new beginnings."

[heliosunny]

Hi! I just read your yandere gojo x reader, and I loved it! I would love to request something similar, almost like an alternate path. Like instead of reader getting sucked in she convinces him to come to her world. How would he respond would he be open to the idea or shut it down? 🤔🩷

[part 1] Gojo virtual boyfriend

[part 2] - Virtual world route

[part 3] - Reality route - current

“Let me go!” you shouted, your voice shaking.

He tilted his head, his grin never faltering. “Why would I do that? You chose me, remember?"

Terrified by the thought of being erased like Kaito, you made a bold move.

At first, when you suggested he leave his perfect world for yours, Gojo was suspicious. His sharp mind immediately went to the worst-case scenario: It’s a trick. Another one of your desperate plans to get rid of him, to escape his grasp.

The idea gnawed at him, but he didn’t show it. He couldn’t afford to, at least not yet. If this was your attempt to weaken him, you didn’t realize how much control he truly held, even outside his virtual paradise.

You think my abilities would fade out there, don’t you? he muttered to himself later that night, standing in the garden and watching the synthetic stars twinkle above. That I’d lose my edge in your world.

A part of him almost wanted to see your plan unfold, if only to watch your shock when you realized the truth. But as you continued to speak about your world, not with manipulation, but with genuine longing, Gojo began to see it differently.

You weren’t scheming. You weren’t even pretending. You simply wanted to live.

For a moment, the idea of losing you, of letting you slip away completely sent a surge of anger through him. But then, just as quickly, the calm returned.

Fine, he thought, his lips curling into a slow, dangerous smile. If this is what you want, I’ll come to your world. I’ll play your game.

In his mind, it didn’t matter where you were. Whether in his world or yours, Gojo was confident he could manipulate your life. He could twist the reality you loved so much, bending it to his will just as easily as he had in his own creation. After all, why should the setting matter when the outcome was the same?

“All right, babe” he said, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. “I’ll live in your world. Let’s see what all the fuss is about.”

You blinked, surprised by his sudden change in tone. “You…will?”

“Of course” he said, standing and stepping closer to you. “If it makes you happy, I’ll give it a shot. But just remember—no matter where we are, you’ll always belong to me.”

You forced a smile, nodding as if you hadn’t noticed the underlying warning.

-----

The air of your world was heavier, the sounds sharper, the textures more defined. It was overwhelming at first, but he masked it with his usual nonchalance.

“This is it, huh?” he said, glancing around your apartment with a mix of curiosity and disdain. He ran his fingers over the fabric of the couch, then picked up a photo frame from the coffee table. “Kinda…plain, don’t you think?”

“It’s real” you replied softly.

He chuckled, setting the frame down. “Sure. Real.”

Despite his dismissive tone, Gojo couldn’t help but notice the limitations of this world. His abilities were still intact, but they felt different here—more restrained, as if the rules of reality fought against his will. He didn’t mind. If anything, it added to the thrill.

What intrigued him most, though, was you. The way you moved, the way you interacted with the world. There was something raw and unfiltered about you here, something he hadn’t fully captured in his virtual construct. He found himself drawn to it, even as it frustrated him.

At first, he played along, letting you guide him through the chaos of your world. He marveled at the things you took for granted—the roughness of tree bark, the bitter taste of coffee, the way the wind whipped through his hair. But the more he observed, the more he noticed how easily you slipped back into your routine, as if he were just another piece of your reality.

You didn’t realize it, but you were making a mistake. You thought his presence here meant you were free, that he couldn’t control you in this world the way he had in his own.

But I can, he thought, watching you from across the room as you busied yourself with some mundane task. And I will.

Gojo knew he didn’t need to trap you physically to keep you. Instead, he would become the center of your world, infiltrating every aspect of your life until you couldn’t imagine a reality without him.

-----

At first, Gojo’s interference in your world seemed harmless, even playful. He’d rearrange the furniture in your apartment without telling you, claiming it 'flowed better' that way.

“Your feng shui was awful” he said one morning, lounging on your newly relocated couch as you stared at the completely rearranged living room in shock.

“You can’t just move my stuff around!” you snapped, glaring at him.

“I can and I did” he replied, flashing you a smug grin. “Admit it, it looks better this way.”

You hated to admit that the new layout did make the room feel more open, but that wasn’t the point. “You can’t just…do things like that without asking me!”

“Sure I can” he said, standing and stretching lazily. “This is our home now, babe. I’m just making it more…us.”

That phrase—our home—sent a chill down your spine. You’d brought him into your world to give him a taste of reality, but it was becoming clear that Gojo had no intention of leaving things as they were.

Things got even more complicated when you interacted with other people. Gojo had a knack for drawing attention wherever he went, and his striking looks didn’t go unnoticed.

“Wow, he’s gorgeous!!” one of your friends whispered after meeting him for the first time.

“He’s a little…intense” you muttered, trying to downplay him.

Gojo, of course, ate up the attention. He grinned at every compliment, charming everyone around him with his effortless charisma. But when the tables were turned, when you spoke to someone for more than a few minutes, especially a man, his mood shifted instantly.

One afternoon, you bumped into an old coworker while out shopping. The two of you chatted briefly, catching up on work and life. Gojo stood behind you, his expression unreadable but his presence looming.

When the man laughed at something you said, Gojo’s hand suddenly found its way to your shoulder, his grip firm but not painful.

“Babe” he interrupted smoothly, his voice dripping with false cheer, “aren’t we on a schedule? You wouldn’t want to be late, would you?”

You glanced up at him, frowning. “We’re not—”

“Let’s go” he said, cutting you off and steering you away before you could argue.

Later that night, he leaned casually against the kitchen counter, his eyes narrowed as he watched you.

“You’re really friendly with him” he said, his tone light but laced with an edge.

“It was just small talk” you replied, exasperated. “Why are you so jealous all the time?”

“Jealous?” He chuckled, stepping closer. “I’m not jealous. I just don’t like the idea of someone else thinking they can take what’s mine.”

“I’m not-” you started, but he silenced you with a finger pressed gently to your lips.

“You’re mine” he said softly, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Don’t forget that.”

-----

Gojo’s interference wasn’t limited to social situations. He began altering the very fabric of your world, bending it to his preferences in subtle but undeniable ways.

One morning, you woke up to find that the walls of your bedroom were no longer the soft pastel color you’d chosen but a deep, vibrant blue.

“Gojo!” you shouted, storming into the living room where he was casually flipping through a magazine. “What happened to my walls?”

“I thought you’d like it” he said without looking up. “Blue suits you better.”

“I didn’t ask for this!”

“Yeah, but I know you’ll grow to love it” he replied, finally glancing up with a smirk. “Trust me, babe—I have an eye for these things.”

It wasn’t just the walls. Your favorite chair disappeared one day, replaced by an extravagant velvet armchair that clashed with everything else in the room. Your kitchen utensils were suddenly upgraded to high-tech gadgets you didn’t know how to use. Even your wardrobe seemed to change overnight, with your usual comfy clothes replaced by sleek, expensive outfits that felt more like costumes than clothes.

“You’re welcome” he said when you confronted him about it.

“This isn’t your world, Gojo” you snapped. “You can’t just change things whenever you feel like it!”

“Sure I can” he said with a shrug. “You brought me here, remember? This is what you wanted.”

-----

While Gojo couldn’t stand anyone getting too close to you, he was quick to brush off your lack of reaction to his admirers.

“Did you hear what that girl said about me?” he asked one evening, leaning against the doorway as you washed dishes.

“Nope” you replied without looking up.

“She said I looked like a movie star” he continued, clearly fishing for a reaction.

“Good for her” you said, rinsing off a plate.

He frowned, stepping closer. “You’re not jealous?”

“Why would I be?” you asked, turning to face him. “I know what you’re like. You love attention. Let them fawn over you if it makes you happy.”

For once, he was speechless. Your indifference irritated him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“You’re no fun” he muttered, but his eyes lingered on you, his expression thoughtful.

As Gojo’s interference in your life became more pronounced, you started to feel the walls closing in. He wasn’t just a guest in your world anymore, he was taking over, reshaping it piece by piece.

“I brought you here to experience my world” you said one day, your voice trembling with frustration. “Not to make it your playground.”

“And I’m experiencing it” he replied with a grin. “I’m just making it better.”

“For you,” you shot back. “not for me.”

The tension between you was growing, but Gojo didn’t seem to care. In his mind, you were already his, and nothing you said or did would change that.

-----

It was a quiet evening when it all came to a head. The kind of quiet that carried tension, where unspoken words hung heavy in the air. You were sitting at the kitchen table, your dinner half-eaten, your focus fixed on your phone. Gojo sat across from you, watching with an intensity that you tried and failed—to ignore.

“You’ve barely said a word to me all day.” he finally muttered, his voice deceptively calm.

You didn’t look up. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy ignoring me?” he asked, a sharp edge creeping into his tone.

Your fingers tightened around your phone, but you still didn’t meet his gaze. “I’m not ignoring you.”

Gojo let out a bitter laugh, the sound cold and humorless. “Oh, sure. You just happened to forget I exist while scrolling through your little apps. Funny how that works.”

“Don’t start, Gojo” you sighed, setting your phone down.

“Don’t start?” he repeated, leaning forward. “You’re telling me not to start, when all I’ve done since I got here is try for you?!”

Your head snapped up at that, your eyes narrowing. “Try? You’ve been controlling everything, Gojo. Rearranging my life like it’s some game!”

“A game?” he hissed, his voice dropping low. “You think this is a game to me? You think I enjoy pretending to be normal for your sake?”

“What are you talking about?”

He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor as he loomed over you. His usual smug demeanor was gone, replaced by something raw and furious.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he said, his voice trembling with barely restrained emotion. “I don’t need to eat. I don’t need to sleep. I don’t even have taste buds, for crying out loud! Every bite of food I’ve taken, every sip of coffee, every damn smile I’ve given you over dinner—it’s all fake!”

You stared at him, your heart pounding.

“I can’t taste anything” he spat, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Do you know how stupid I feel, sitting there pretending to enjoy something I can’t even experience? Do you know why I do it? For you! Because I thought it would make you happy!”

The weight of his words hit you like a punch to the gut. “Gojo, I—”

“No” he interrupted, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and hurt. “You don’t get to talk right now. Do you know what it’s like to exist like this? To not feel hunger or fatigue or even pain, but still pretend I do just to make you feel normal? And for what? So you can brush me off like I don’t matter?”

You were silent, the guilt clawing at your chest.

He continued, his voice cracking. “You wanted me to leave my world and come to yours. And I did it because I love you. But no matter what I do, it’s never enough, is it?”

His words hung in the air, the silence that followed heavy and suffocating.

“Gojo” you said softly, standing from your chair. “I didn’t ask you to—”

“To what?!” he snapped, cutting you off again. “To care? To try? You didn’t ask, but I did it anyway because that’s what you do when you love someone!”

He turned away, running a hand through his hair as he tried to rein in his emotions. For the first time since you’d met him, Gojo looked…vulnerable.

“I gave up everything for you” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “My world, my rules, my power—everything. And you…you treat me like I’m nothing.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. What could you say to that?

“I don’t want your pity” he said, his back still to you.

When you didn’t respond, his shoulders slumped, and something in him seemed to shatter. He turned back to face you, his expression one of pure anguish.

“Wait....You don’t care...” he said, his voice trembling. “You don’t care about me at all, DO YOU?”

The silence stretched between you after his outburst, thick and suffocating. You opened your mouth to speak, to try to mend the frayed edges of the moment, but Gojo was already walking toward the window, his back to you, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he said quietly, his voice eerily calm now. “You think this is just about me being jealous. About me wanting your attention.”

“Gojo—”

His eyes glowed unnaturally, a shimmering blue that seemed to pierce straight through you. “I’m done pretending, babe. Done playing by your rules. If I have to show you how much you need me, so be it.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Gojo tilted his head, his smile sharp and cold. “You’ll see soon enough.”

-----

It started small, just like everything else he did. A missed text from your best friend. A coworker suddenly forgetting about plans you’d made the week before. At first, you thought it was coincidence—people got busy, or maybe you’d misunderstood. But then it happened again. And again.

Your mother didn’t answer your calls, her voicemail oddly generic and devoid of the warmth you were used to. Your bestie, who had been your closest confidant for years, began acting distant, her expressions blank whenever you tried to talk about your shared memories.

“Hey!” you said one night, sitting on the couch beside her. “Do you remember that road trip we took last summer? The one where the car broke down, and we had to hitch a ride with that old farmer?”

She blinked at you, confusion flickering across her face. “What are you talking about? I’ve never been on a road trip with you.”

Your blood ran cold.

You confronted him that night, your heart pounding as you stormed into the living room where he was lounging, as usual, on the couch.

“What did you do?” you demanded, your voice trembling.

He looked up from the book he was pretending to read, his expression infuriatingly calm. “What do you mean?”

“My friends” you snapped. “My family. They’re acting…different. They don’t remember things—important things. What did you do to them?”

Gojo sighed, closing the book with an audible snap and setting it aside. “Why are you always so dramatic?”

“Answer me!”

His eyes met yours, cold and unrelenting. “Fine. If you really want to know.” He stood, taking a step closer to you, and you instinctively backed away.

“I erased them” he said simply.

Your breath caught in your throat. “What?”

“Not all of them” he added casually, as if discussing the weather. “Just their memories of you. It’s not like they need them, anyway. You’ve got me now.”

“You…you erased their memories of me?” you whispered, horror creeping into your voice.

He shrugged. “I didn’t want them getting in the way. They were distracting you, pulling you away from me. And honestly?” He smirked, his gaze darkening. “It’s kind of nice knowing I’m the only one who really knows you now.”

You stumbled back, shaking your head in disbelief. “You can’t…you can’t just erase people’s memories! They’re my family, my friends—they’re mine!”

“Not anymore” he said, stepping closer. “Now, they’re nothing. Just strangers in your life. And honestly? Isn’t that better? No more nagging about your job, your relationships, your life choices. No more pressure to be someone you’re not.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as the full weight of his actions crashed down on you. “You had no right,” you choked out.

“I have every right” he countered, his voice low and dangerous. “You brought me here, remember? You invited me into your world. And now it’s ours.”

“You’re insane...” you whispered, backing away toward the door.

“Maybe” he said, his smile widening. “But I’m yours. And you’re mine. That’s all that matters now.”

You tried to run, but the moment you reached for the doorknob, the world around you warped. The door vanished, replaced by a blank wall. The windows followed, the glass dissolving into solid, impenetrable barriers.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Gojo asked, his tone light but his expression anything but.

“Let me out!” you shouted, pounding on the wall where the door had been.

He laughed softly, the sound sending chills down your spine. “Out? Oh, babe, there’s no ‘out’ anymore. This is your world now—our world. And the sooner you accept that, the happier you’ll be.”

When you turned to face him, your eyes blazing with anger and fear, he raised a hand, and you froze in place, your body refusing to obey your commands.

“Don’t fight me” he said, his voice soft but firm. “You’ll only make it harder on yourself. Just let go. Let me take care of you. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Tears streamed down your face as you realized the truth: there was no escaping him. Not in this world. Not in any world.

[daddyhausen]

｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ 「 YOU WILL BE MINE 」 ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

「 PART TWO 」

｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

「 MASTERLISTS 」 | 「 MUSICIAN/BAND MASTERLIST 」 | 「 IV MASTERLIST 」

「 COMMISION INFO 」 | 「 LIKE MY WORK? BUY ME A COFFEE — KOFI — DXDDYHXUSEN 」

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「 SUMMARY 」 — it was supposed to be a simple convenience store run, once iv caught a glimpse of the pretty clerk behind the desk , he was infatuated

「 WARNINGS 」 — smut, 18 +, [ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ], stalking obsession, male masturbation, cumshots, sexual fantasies

「 WORD COUNT 」 — 3.8k

「 PAIRING 」 — fem!reader x iv

「 GENRE 」 — smut

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「 TAGLIST 」 — @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @mjfass @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @janetreader @bonehead-playz @legit9thlunaticwarrior @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980 @harmshake @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk @thepalaceofmelanie @seeingstarks @kennysbadkitten @darkangelchronicles @selena-tyler-564 @alyyaanna @nightmare-freakin-viper @nev-danielgarciawife @teenagedramaqueenlisa @them4lice

「 COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST 」

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「 3:30 AM 」

iv’s eyelids grow heavy as the hours ticked by, his sleep stifled in feeble attempts just to try and stay awake. the simple convenience store he stands before seems so barren in comparison to earlier when he passed it by, no bustling customers, mother’s with groceries, small children clinging to their arms with their own piles of sweets and assorted junk foods, not even the old man down the road, whom he saw quickly dart in for a pack of smokes and a few lottery tickets.

it is too quiet, even for his liking. at this hour, normally he’d see a few drunks spread out here and there buying a quick snack to help them sober up before stumbling back out the door with very minimal interaction on both recipient and server. the layover between shows was only a week, and even in the few hours he’s been here he’s already noticed these things. the emptiness feels sinister almost, like an ever looming hand hovering just above his shoulder, not touching, just out of reach.

the soft chime of the bell brings iv out of his thoughts momentarily, the door opens, the bell falling back into place with a gentle ring. he steps inside, the cool august air fading, his bones instantly warmed from the heater inside. a hoodie covering his features, practically engulfing him in the oversized material. his face obscured by a mask, as always. a simple black balaclava with some the bands sigel etched on the front. he finds the idea of wearing the mask in public a bit redundant since the mask itself was more identifiable than his bare face, however, vessel, ever the worrier, insists on it. he gives a soft glance in the direction of the registers, eyeing a pretty little thing behind the counter, before making his way to the drink fridges.

he notices how your eyes widen subtly, trying not to draw attention to yourself. he sees how your hand rests beneath the counter, such dainty little fingers tapping at the steel of the countertop, an irritating clanking of fingernails against the metal. poor nervous thing. how cute.

“sir?” you speak up, your voice barely above a squeak. “you need to take off your mask”.

he simply opens the drink fridge, grabbing a slab of water bottles, turning to face you.

“is that a requirement here?”

he didn’t even notice the sign above the door that clearly states to remove all head coverings.

“i mean you just can’t walked into a convenience store wearing a mask, i might think you’re gonna rob the place”

“fine” he softly mutters, pulling up the balaclava just past his mouth, the fabric resting on the bridge of his nose. revealing a sharp jawline and soft pouty lips shaped into a scowl.

“happy?”

his remark is spiteful and sarcastic as he places the slab of water bottles on the counter.

“i suppose you’re gonna charge me a convenience fee for the mask?” his words are still monotone. a joke.

“be thankful that i didn’t call the cops on you”

a small scoff left his lips at the mention of the faux threat, thick fingers appearing from beneath the worn leather of a black glove, resting on his chin, softly scratching the brunette stubble of his beard. his tongue subtly parting his lips, your eyes falling to stare almost instinctively down at the appendage as it swipes across his bottom lip, wetting it slightly.

“lucky me, i guess”

his words rumble low in his chest, a deep hum that murmurs low as they leave his lips. he stares for a moment, as if he were studying your appearance. from the way your eyes flutter softly with small blinks, the way your eyelashes batt against the apples of your cheeks, to the way your nose scrunches from the chill of the spring air each time the door to your store opens. your lips and the way they puff and pout subconsciously or the way they part slightly each time he’d talk, as if you are about to swallow his words no matter how brief his sentences are. oh god, he wishes those lips could part around other things. his eyes follow the length of your arm, from your dainty, dandelion-painted fingernails, to smooth silky hands, one’s that wrap tightly, almost anxiously around the scanner as you scan the slabs of water. to your shoulders, he could just invision the bite marks he’d leave, etched into pristine skin, these thoughts continue the further his eyes travel, to your clavicle and finally, your breasts, hidden beneath a neat blouse, his eyes only linger for a moment not to rouse suspicion, although he could not help but let his mind wander, envisioning just how gorgeous those perky, supple breasts would look free from the restraists of the fabric, nipples pebbled over with arousal, boucing as he slams his girthy cock into you. he draws his eyes away after a minute or so.

“so if you’re not here to rob me, what are you doing in town, i havent seen you around before, you new here?”

your questions are probing, invasive to iv’s ears. good. you did not mention his obvious staring, either you knew and didnt mention it out of embarrassment or that pretty little head of yours was filled with nothing but air. in a way he liked the latter, easier to toy with, easier to corrupt and full with nothing but thoughts of his cock, how perfect.

“do you expect every person who comes here is gonna rob you?”

iv cocks an eyebrow inqusitively at your questioning, eyelids slowly blinking as he gazed upon your throat, how it constricts with a small, anxious gulp, he can envision his hand wrapping around it, constricting your airway until you succumb to pleasure.

“you can’t expect nothing more in a town like this”

iv gives a soft nod, pursing his lips with a small hum in response, he hadn’t taken notice of it before but the store itself is kept moderately well, aside from a few straps of duct tape keeping the cracks in the windows sealed, and the lightbulb above the counter that flickers on and off every so often, the colour a muddy yellow, subdueing you beauty each time it would darken. in comparison to the shithole of a town outside, it is paradise, simply because of you.

“i’m in a band” he finally admits

the answer is short, closed off. your eyes widen in excitement, he’s mentally preparing himself for another round of questioning.

“ooh, go on tell, what band?”

he finds your reaction endearing, despite his own reservations he remains hesitant to say anything further.

“you wouldn’t know…” his response is standoffish, you take the hint and back off questioning him for now.

you round up his change silently, the price appearing on the small screen of the register. albeit he does feel bad about the way he responded, in the back of his head he knows he can’t get too close to you. despite every nerve in his body yearning to fuck you senseless over the counter top. his cock throbbing behind the confines of his jeans.

“sorry…” he mutters, noticing the subtle sombre expression across those perfect, pouty lips. he pulls out his card to pay, gathering the slabs of water in his arms.

“it’s alright, not that it matters, i never got time to go to shows anyway”

iv’s lips pout against the fabric of his mask, poor pretty thing. you’re working yourself to the bone it seems. he observes, even under the piss coloured lighting, beneath the most stunning set of eyes lays dark circles, your posture not as perfect as it should be, your shoulders slump forward, almost nodding off where you stand. iv couldn’t help but think that you are in need of a rest, and who a better man than himself to give you a nice rough fucking until you fall asleep on his chest, his cock stufffed deep in your cunt, half-hard as you clench around him.

iv shakes the thoughts from his head momentarily. it is something he’s gonna have to deal with back at the hotel.

“how long you in town for?” you ask. diverging the conversation, breaking the awkward silence that built between you two.

“about a week”

you respond with a simple nod, lips curling into a small subtle smile.

“see you around then”

“yeah.”

iv watched on as you disappear into the back room, his eyes dancing over your frame, adoring the sway of your hips, the round of your ass as she escapes from his vision, his cock hardens, throbbing with insatiable desire. god, if he stares any longer he is sure to ruin his boxers. he peers up to the security feed, the small tv mounted upon the wall, spit into four different screens, once of each corner of the convenience store, and the bottom left, one of the back room, which he assumes is the storage facility. he can see you, he stares, watching you dart back and forth, a lot of monotonous work still needing to be done. he can’t help himself, he grabs his phone from his front pocket, quickly snapping a pic of you in the security feed.

it was not much, the picture is grainy and blurry. he can just make out your figure, but it is enough. it has to be. then again, any semblance of you would help. his balls feel heavy down-weighed with litres of cum he needed to spill. he grabs the water, quickly darting out of the convenience store before he would start to rub one out where he stood.

the walk back to the hotel was suppose to be quick, only five minutes or so away, yet, with the throb of his cock, each step felt like half, his body feels heavy, an eternity scaped out over the course of a few minutes. all he could think about was you, the pretty little slut behind the counter, spending your days all by your lonesome in the store. he wonders how many times you’ve gotten so needy that you just would rub one out whenever there were no customers, slender fingers tracing around that aching, swollen clit, pumping deep into that meaty pussy of yours. God, it was driving him insane. his cock aches, only wishing to be buried deep in any hole you’d allow him into.

even more so as he fumbles with the key card, the damn thing slipping through his fingers and back into his pockets more than once.

“fuckin’ hell…” he curses under his breath, his breathing itself becoming laboured, warm against the fabric of his mask. arousal swelling in his pants, cock throbbing with thick pulses. by the gods he is desprate. every time he blinks, a vision of you behind his eyelids, each one in a different, more exposed state of undress until you were bare before him. the key card clicks, a chime ringing through the hallway as the door opens. iv practically stumbles inside, an awaiting iii lounging idly on the bed furthest from the door. his head lazily peering up to meet iv’s frazzled state.

iii put his phone down beside him on the bed, poorly dried hair still dripping wet from the shower, leaving inky black splotches on the pillow case.

“since when does it take an hour just to get water?-”

iii’s words fell deaf on iv’s ears, placing the two slabs down onto the counter, completely bypassing iii in the process heading straight for the bathroom.

the bathroom is quiet, only the soft echoes of iv’s breath present, all shaky and laboured. the room is still warm, steam billowing off the tiles from when iii occupied it. iv rips off his mask, small beads of sweat clinging to his forehead, dark strands sticking his skin as he eyes himself in the mirror. he is a wreck. he is not sure if it was the arousal talking or the lack of sleep but he knows he needed to do something about it and quick. his cock strains against his jeans, images of you, still present in his mind. all naked, spread out for him, greedy cunt taking every inch of his fat cock.

“shit..” he mutters through a shaky breath, peering down just to see how evident his arousal had become. the zipper practially about to bust with the sheer girth of it. iv is quick to rid himself of the fabric, his cock springing from his boxers, heavy and swollen, tip leaking with precum as evident by the generous wet patch in his boxers. he is amost afraid to touch it, fearing that he might bust with the slightest contact. he simply watches it throb and pulse against his stomach.

a knock at the bathroom door distracts him momentarily. iii’s voice ringing through his ears.

“you good in there, mate?”

iii’s voice is hesitant, almost concern laced in his words.

“yeah…gonna shower…”

iv’s words falter slightly, trying to hold back a moan.

“right…dont be too long yeah?”

“yeah…right…”

iv waits for a moment, hearing the dull thuds of iii’s footsteps inch away from the bathroom door. he lets out a shaky, relieved breath, dismissing his predicament for a second to get the water ready. steam flutters and curls in the air, instantly fogging the glass f the shower door as he waits for the temperature to correct itself, yet in the back of his mind, like some omnipresent figure, you lurk. beckoning him with a curled, tempting finger to sink deeper into whatever unhinged fantasies he has tucked away. by the gods he wants to do that so…just to get a taste, a feel, a smell even. You’d taste sweet, he knows that. pretty pussy leaky and wet just for him as he laps up your juices like a man starved, planting deep hungry kissed to your clit, sucking greedily at the sensitive bulb.

he looks back to the counter top, his phone laying idly beside the sink. he remembers the picture he snapped of you on the security feed. as perverse as the act was, he could not help himself. he could just delete the picture and be done with it, with you, he is only here for a week after all nothing would come through over one simple interaction.

but it would be such a waste…he kept his balls full for a reason, resisting the urge to stroke himself for weeks now until he found the right subject to satiate his needs. if he were to waste his cum on anything…on anyone…it would be a cute little bunny such as yourself.

iv reaches for his phone, his hand shaky, not necessarily in hesitation but arousal…need. he opens it, scrolling through his photo album, amongst the various photographs stored, from tour photos, selfies, pictures of his own cock, laid you, the one he’s been searching for. he zooms in on it, the angle of the camera giving a much better view of your cleavage, the supple, round mounds swelling around the fabric of your blouse, iv’s dick twitches at the sight. he props the phone down ontop of the tank of the toilet, leaning it against the wall so it was still visible from the shower.

he steps into the warmth, his body instantly relaxing into the water, soothing his weary muscles. he keeps the shower door open, not caring about the spray of the water that drenches the floor, as long as he could see you. his hand begins to trace town the soft flesh of his stomach, the supple pudge of fat of his abdomen retracting and clenching with arousal as his wraps his hand around his firm cock. his keeps his grip taught, squeezing droplets of pre-cum from the tip, a makeshift lubricant. pretending, wanting it to be your perfect cunt wrapped around him.

“f-fuck me…” he groans through gritted teeth. he did not want to go easy on himself, he didnt deserve that kind of reprieve. he knows this is sick, he knows he’s a fuckin’ perv. you are a damn stranger, a pretty one at that but still a stranger nonetheless. and here he is, stroking his dick to you. iv always had these perverted inclinations, sure he’s jerked off to strangers before, i mean porn exists for a reason but never to someone he knew or has seen in real life.

iv can’t help but feel disgusted with himself, ashamed even. you didn’t deserve this treatment from him…yet that feeling is quickly repressed the moment he stars to move his hand down his shaft.

“shit …thats it bunny…mmm fuck…” his cock throbs in his hand, as he continues to stare down the picture of you, pretending that you were actually there with him.

“keep suckin’ my cock….”

he could almost invision it, pouty, lips wrapping around his throbbing cockhead, all puffy and red from the abuse he so lovingly bestows onto you. he closes his eyes, seeing you so perfectly work his cock, interchanging between your hands and your mouth.

he grips his cock tighter, hips starting to gyrate against the pseudo-rhythm of your movements. an apparition it is, a false narrative constructed by his perverted mind, he could not stop, he would not allow himself to.

“take my fuckin’ cock pretty thing…mm yes. fuck back against it” his teeth clench together increasing the speed of his hand.

“thats its, bunny.. such a dirty little slut for me…oh fuck!”

he had to bite his tongue, supress himself from being too loud, knowing that iii is just outside, ii and vessel in the next room over, and the walls in this shithole of a hotel aren’t exactly thick.

iv gasps softly, letting his eyelids flutter shut again. this time imagining your ass bouncing back against him. the soft plush flesh ripping at the contact, skin slapping together making the most sickening yet lovely sounds. his cock dissapearing between your folds, perfect juicy cunt leaving a creamy ring around his meaty shaft each time he’d pull back, only to slam himself deeper into you over and over again.

gummy walls clenching around his cockhead, milking him of each drop of his cum. gods, it is a disgusting thought, but he wants to empty load after load of cum into you, bredding you senseless until it finally takes. your belly swelling with a strangers kid. his kid. that way he can finally have you.. claim you as his no matter the circumstance. that and the sight of you pregnant would ignite a while other fire under him, he’d not be able to keep his hands off of you, gods. he’d fuck that tight cunt until you’re begging him to stop, sucking greedily on your sensitive nipples, kneading swollen, milk-filled breasts to soothe the ache.

“gonna breed you, bunny…gonna be mine…all mine…”

he is pumping his cock as fast as he could handle, the appendage aching, all red and swollen with a desprate need fo release. he invisions your moans, how they’d pitch in loudness the closer you are to release. he lets his eyes flutter open, watching the picture of you as he nears closer.

“cum on this cock, bunny. be a good fuckin’ girl and cream all over this dick for me” his breath shudders in pleasure.

“i know you want to…mm fuck…that pretty cunt’s all nice and soaked…just beggin’ for my cum”

he can see it so clearly, pretty cunt gushing around him, dripping down onto his thick, meaty thighs. he cums where he stands, through a string of curses and rough, drawn out breaths. his knuckles coated in white, he is surprised he didnt ruin his phone screen with the weight of his orgasm, the sheer amount of cum is more than he anticipated.

“fuck…” he gasps breathlessly, feeling slightly lightheaded from his orgasm. he looks down at himself, his hand still firmly wrapped around the base of his now semi-flaccid cock, the appendage twitching with small pulses, his thighs covered in his cum, trailing down his skin, mixing in with the water. he feels elated, disgusting, still fucking horny, all wrapped up into a perveted bundle.

from this moment on, he needs to see you again. needs to touch you, feel you, taste you… fuck you. it’s beyond primal. fucking biblical even. for the heavens bestowed upon him a goddess and he will do everything in his power to not let you escape from his grasp. you are his, even if you did not know it yet yourself.

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[miley1442111]

Heyyyy are you still requests?? If yes..................

Last night i relived a painful memory when a loved person told me to shut up in front of our friend group and it was so humiliating and overwhelming, i went dead silent for the rest of the month but still played cool with everyone and everyone knew i was destroyed, wasnt leaving home that much yet and the person who told me to shut up was going trough some shit (ON THAT DAY) and actually never apologized...

SO SORRY FOR THE VENT BUT IT WAS NECESSARY FOR THE PLOT I SWEAR.

What if the reader is the one being told to shut up by none other than RAFE CAMERON who is a very close friend and he told the reader to shut up out loud in the middle of a party in front of your friend group (Kelce and Topper) and the reader also play it cool but it collapse at themself like a dying star and all their light is sucked by the black hole it became. But unlike real life, Rafe doesnt need people telling him he fucked up and he felt terrible and a few weeks later he sees reader on a party, unusually quiet, being dragged by their friends around trying to cheer reader up and the reader still trying to play it cool but the damage was showing and maybe Rafe take the chance to approach you but he doesnt know what to say or what to do so he acts like nothing happened?? IM SORRY THIS IS SO CONFUNSING I JUST WOKE UP AND I HAD TO WRITE THAT BEFORE THE MEMORY FADED. Sorry if i made you feel uncomfortable, just ignore it if you didn like ittt!! I love your writting btw i'll never forget that one ask i did and you answered about Rafe choosing between reader and a lover!!!!

and ask 2:

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talking too much- r.cameron

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a/n: HELLO to the both of you! thank you two so much for requesting, and very sorry that this happened to you :( I'd let you talk my ear off about anything any time :) (ps, great song choice)

pairing: rafe cameron x fem! reader

summary: i suggest you look at the requests

warnings: reader kind of loses her spark, rafe is a confused and stressed asshole, reader becomes very insecure, feelings of not being good enough, rafe gets very stressed at the end (i think that's it?)

not entirely proofread

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It was finally nearing the end of June and you were planning your 4th of July party with your friends. Topper, Kelce, Rafe, you, Sarah, and a few of your other friends sat around the table, thinking up ideas for what parties to drop into, and what you were going to wear, etc. You were excited, that was no crime. You’d always been the most excitable in the group, it was just part of your bubbly personality, there was no issue with it. No one had ever been more than a little irritated with it before, no big deal. You’d just apologise and remember to tone it down for those people, but your closest friends weren’t those people. Your closest friends liked your personality, your closest friends liked you. It didn’t matter how loud you were. 

“And then I guess we’ll-”

“God, do you ever shut the fuck up?” Rafe cursed.

The room went silent. You stood still, frozen as people’s eyes turned to you. Sarah offered a look of sympathy, she knew how much you valued Rafe’s opinion, especially since you had a slight crush on him. You felt yourself recoil. How could he be so rude? All you were doing was giving ideas to the group, it’s not like anyone else was trying to speak much, and Rafe definitely wasn’t adding to the conversation. At least, he hadn’t been for the past hour, just sitting in the corner with his leg bouncing and that stupid vein protruding from his stupid neck. You slumped back in your chair, embarrassment filling your mind as you thought over every other interaction with him and the group. Were you annoying? Did they all actually hate you? 

“I don’t hear you talking much Rafe,” Sarah shot back. “Something to say?”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “Fuck off Sarah,” he scoffed and waited for you to bounce back and start speaking again. You didn’t. He looked up as the group started speaking again, going off of all the plans you’d started. You were just sitting there, on your phone. 

You just waited until someone actually asked you a question to give your input, and even then all you said was; “Sounds good.”

He’d fucked up. Big time. 

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It had been a week since ‘the incident’, and Rafe hadn’t seen you. He felt awful, absolutely disgraced after what he’d said. He was stressed, it was a bad moment, and he took it out on you. He was sorry. But how was he supposed to tell you that? How was he supposed to explain how sorry he was, explain that he was just stressed? How would you believe him? You two had never been the closest in the friend group, not to say you two didn’t speak, but you two weren’t exactly attached at the hip like you were with Sarah, or Kelce. All you’d ever been to him was nice, not something he was sure he deserved, but he appreciated it all the same. 

How could he get back to that?

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“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Sarah begged over the phone. 

“I’m tired, I was working all day-”

“Come on, you’ve been dodging all week! 4th of July is coming up, I don’t want to hang out with Kelce and Top without you,” she whined, 

“I’ll be there for the 4th, I’m just busy right now,” you sighed. “I promise I’m ok,” you lied. 

“If you’re staying home because of what Rafe said, I’ll kill him,” she swore. 

“I don’t give a shit about what Rafe said,” lie. “I’m just busy, promise.”

Sarah sighed. “Alright, see you on the 4th!”

And with that, you hung up. The last week had been one long pity-party that made you feel even worse about yourself, deciding that your friends were better off without you, especially when you can’t even bounce back from one tiny insignificant comment from one random guy. That’s what you thought anyway. But now, you had 3 days before the 4th, and you weren’t sure how you were going to get the courage to face any of them. 

Not that they hadn’t reached out. Everyone who was there (aside from Rafe) had called or texted to ask if you were ok, and apologised for not saying anything. Kelce had felt the worst, since he was supposed to be your best friend, and he hadn’t said anything. You brushed them off, promising them it was fine, promising them you were fine. They barely believed you, but you somehow convinced them that you were busy. You told half of them that you were packing for your move, and the other half that you had gotten a job at your mom’s company. I mean, technically you were a few weeks out from moving away and you should be packing, and technically you did just get a job at your moms’ company (managing the online presence and doing admin work), but really both those jobs were easy. You could’ve done them for a few hours, then seen your friends. But you didn't want to. You didn’t want to feel like a burden. 

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The day of the 4th rolled around and Sarah picked you up with all the girls in the group in her car. You looked gorgeous in your short red dress, at least that’s what Sarah told you. You kept your mouth shut as the girls gossiped and sang along to songs, only interjecting when truly necessary. When you got to the beach, you managed to break away from the girls and get a drink, standing alone as you watched the night go by. You liked people watching, you found it interesting to see the small micro-expressions on peoples faces, the snippets of their conversations, and everything in between. 

“Hi,” Rafe smiled softly. He was in front of you, blocking your view of the people you were looking at. 

“Hi,” you answered meekly. 

He stood there for a moment as you tried to look over his shoulder, but the group were gone. You sighed in defeat and turned around to pour yourself another drink. 

“How are you?” he asked. 

“Fine thanks,” you answered. “You?”

“Good, fine… yeah,” the awkwardness in his voice almost made you physically cringe. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“It’s been like a week?” you questioned. In the past week, Rafe had realised how much he missed you, and how much you added to the group. He missed how you brightened up everyone, how you kept the peace by being close with almost everyone, how you made him laugh. 

“What have you been up to?” He scratched the back of his neck, his nerves almost getting the better of him, almost making him turn around and not do this. Almost.

“Not much. Working, packing, usual stuff,” you shrugged. 

Rafe’s expression faltered. “Packing?”

“I’m moving in a few weeks,” you explained. “So you won't see me for a while.”

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. 

Absolutely not. 

Rafe felt his stomach sink. “Why?”

“‘Why’ what Rafe?” you asked, genuinely confused. Why, out of all people, would he care?

“Where?”

“Just main-land, but a bit further into the city so I’m moving schools,” you shrugged.

“But it’s our senior year?”

“Yeah? And?”

“We all said we’d do it together, remember?”

“It wasn’t my choice to move,” you scoffed. “And also, why are you acting like this is new information? Tonight is my ‘last hurrah’ get-together. We’re doing the stupid sleepover.”

“W-what?”

“We didn’t invite you,” Sarah butted in. “You were a dick, now you reap the consequences.”

You rolled your eyes at the shocked look on Rafe’s face. “Night Rafe, see you around.”

Rafe stood frozen as you walked away, shocked. Had he really not been listening for so long? Had he really missed that? You were moving, you were gone. And there was nothing he could do about it. 

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Han

When you first met Han, he didn’t reveal much of himself—just a casual, polite greeting that didn’t give away much about his personality. He seemed quiet, reserved, and someone who doesn’t speak unless he really feels comfortable. It became clear that he’s the kind of person who only really opens up to people he’s close with, which made your initial conversations a bit limited. He didn’t talk much, but even so, there was something about his presence that told you he was trying. You could sense that despite the awkwardness, he genuinely wanted to connect with you, even if words didn’t come easily at first. It was subtle—small efforts, little glances, or brief comments that let you know he was pushing himself to bridge that gap. With time, that initial awkwardness began to fade, and your interactions started to flow more naturally. Slowly but surely, Han’s quiet exterior gave way to a different side of him. He casually asked, "That's pretty cool, where did you get it?" Though his comment seemed unnecessary at first, it somehow sparked a longer conversation.

Before you knew it, the two of you had fallen into a comfortable back-and-forth, and the initial awkwardness disappeared as you got more relaxed. As he grew more comfortable, his personality started to shine through. He became more open, and what once felt like small talk evolved into real conversations. You noticed him becoming more bubbly, playful, and even a little cute around you. It was as though his walls were coming down, and in place of the quiet, reserved Han you first met, was someone who felt at ease with you, allowing his true self to emerge. The transformation was subtle yet undeniable, and it made the connection between you feel even more special. Once the two of you became close, he wasn’t shy about giving you that adorable, warm smile of his. It was something you began to look forward to, as if it was his way of letting you know he felt comfortable around you. He had this ease about him, the way he could talk for hours about anything and everything, just because he genuinely enjoyed being in your company.

He often said that your presence made him feel at peace, like he didn’t have to put up any walls, and in return, he did his best to make you feel just as at ease when he was around. One thing you noticed about him was that he was always considerate in his own playful way. It wasn’t just the words he said but how he said them, with that lighthearted tone that put you at ease. Like that one time when the weather turned chilly, and he noticed you rubbing your arms to keep warm. Without a second thought, he took off his jacket, holding it out to you with that same playful grin you’d come to adore. "Here, wear my jacket—I don't want you freezing to death," he joked, his tone teasing but his actions showing how much he cared. He wasn’t just looking after you; he was trying to make sure you felt as comfortable and safe with him as he did with you, creating this effortless sense of connection that seemed to deepen each time you were together.

Felix

From the very first moment you meet Felix, there's an undeniable warmth in the air, making the encounter feel comfortable and inviting. Felix, with his naturally kind and gentle demeanor, immediately exudes a sweetness that draws you in, making you feel at ease from the start. His friendly smile and genuine interest in getting to know you create a welcoming environment where conversation seems to flow effortlessly. Rather than simply exchanging pleasantries, Felix takes the time to ask thoughtful questions, clearly curious and eager to learn more about you, the new person he's just met. His curiosity is both sincere and endearing, as he engages deeply with every response you give, showing a real interest in what you have to say. There's an ease in the way he interacts, almost as if he's trying to find those little details that will help form a connection. He’s incredibly perceptive, so if he sensed even a hint of discomfort or shyness, he’d make sure to gently guide the interaction to help the new member feel more relaxed. He’d ask them about themselves—not in an overwhelming way, but with genuine curiosity—wanting to know about their interests, what brought them to the group, and how they were adjusting to everything so far.

As you grow closer to Felix, everything about him seems even more endearing. The little things he does that might have gone unnoticed before now feel irresistibly cute. One of the moments that never fails to make your heart flutter is when he spots you from afar. His face lights up the moment he sees you, and without hesitation, he flashes that beautiful, genuine smile of his, the one that seems to light up everything around him. He waves enthusiastically, his happiness at seeing you completely unfiltered, like a burst of joy that radiates from him "How's my favorite person doing today?" he asks playfully as he gently pokes your nose. It’s not just the way he greets you that makes him special, but also the way he opens up as you get to know each other better. Felix becomes more expressive, sharing stories, thoughts, and little details about his life with an infectious energy. It's as if, with you, he feels completely at ease, able to let down any guard and reveal his softer, more vulnerable side.

He talks non-stop, eagerly sharing his passions, dreams, and even his quirks, as if you’ve become someone he can trust implicitly. The way he shares so openly and honestly makes you feel like you’re seeing a side of him that not everyone gets to see—his softer, more delicate side that makes him all the more lovable. His openness is a clear reflection of how special your bond has become, a silent acknowledgment of the trust that’s blossomed between you. With each passing moment spent together, Felix has a way of making you feel not just cherished, but truly valued in a way that feels effortless and sincere. Whether it’s the way his eyes soften when he looks at you, as if you’re the only person in the room, or the way he constantly shares his thoughts, emotions, and stories without hesitation, there's something deeply intimate about his presence. Everything he does seems to radiate with a certain warmth, as though being around you brings out a softer, more open version of himself.

Seungmin

Seungmin might initially come across as a bit reserved when meeting the new member for the first time. He’s the type of person who prefers to observe from a distance, taking his time to assess how someone fits into the group dynamic before fully engaging. His cautious nature doesn’t stem from being cold or uninterested; rather, Seungmin is thoughtful and meticulous, wanting to ensure he understands the new member's personality and how they might gel with everyone else before diving in. He watches interactions closely, paying attention to the subtle ways they navigate conversations and how they handle the newness of the situation. During this initial period, Seungmin wouldn’t be the one to immediately rush over with jokes or questions. Instead, he’d offer a polite greeting, maybe exchange a few casual words, and then step back to observe. It might seem like he’s holding back, but in reality, Seungmin is taking mental notes, figuring out how to approach the new member in a way that feels genuine and natural for both of them.

He’s not one to force interactions or engage in small talk unless he truly feels comfortable, and he gives others the space to adjust at their own pace, just as he does. However, once Seungmin begins to get a better sense of who the new member is, especially if he notices that they have a good sense of humor or a playful side, his more fun-loving personality would start to emerge. Seungmin is known for his dry wit and clever remarks, and he enjoys a good laugh, particularly when someone can match his humor. If the new member shows that they can keep up with his banter, Seungmin would quickly become more open, gradually showing his playful and teasing side. His jokes might start off subtle, but as he gets more comfortable, you’ll notice that he’s got a sharp sense of humor, often slipping in witty comments or playful teasing when you least expect it. If the new member engages with his humor, Seungmin would be more than happy to continue the back-and-forth, forming a bond through this shared sense of playfulness. His jokes might sometimes catch you off guard, delivered with a straight face that makes you question whether he’s being serious or not, but that’s part of the fun with Seungmin.

Seungmin wasn’t exaggerating when he mentioned how carefully he takes notes on everything. His memory is sharp, and he effortlessly recalls even the smallest details, whether about himself or those around him. He has a quiet, observant nature that allows him to notice things others might miss, especially when it comes to you. While he may not always show it outwardly, Seungmin silently watches you with a careful eye, picking up on your habits and quirks, even the ones you aren’t aware of. He knows you tend to misplace things often, so he’s already mentally prepared to help when something goes missing. He’s also aware of the tasks you frequently forget to complete, remembering them without needing reminders. It’s almost like he’s keeping a quiet checklist in the back of his mind, not because he wants to point out your flaws, but because he genuinely cares and wants to support you. "I might need to start attaching your phone to you soon," he says with a playful smile as he hands you the phone you left on the kitchen table.

Jeongin

Jeongin tends to be a little shy when you first meet him, often keeping to himself. He’s not the type to initiate conversation right away, usually offering just a soft "hi" or a quick greeting before retreating into quiet observation. It's not that he’s unfriendly, but rather that he prefers to take his time before engaging with people, feeling out the atmosphere. As he sits back and watches, you might catch his gaze drifting towards you more often than not. His eyes will linger, almost as if he's studying you, scanning you in his mind. It’s subtle, not in an intimidating way, but more because he’s genuinely curious about you. He wants to understand who you are before he opens up fully, and watching from a distance helps him piece together the details. His quiet demeanor, coupled with those frequent glances, makes you wonder what exactly he's thinking, as he takes everything in with quiet interest. Though he may not say much at first, his curiosity is clear, and you get the feeling that once he feels more comfortable, he’ll have a lot more to say.

As time passes, Jeongin's curiosity about you only grows deeper with each passing day. At first, he remains quietly observant, content with listening to the things you talk about, the way you express your thoughts, and the subjects that seem to occupy your mind. He becomes increasingly attuned to the details of your conversations, noting what excites or intrigues you, and the subtle emotions behind your words. It's as if he's slowly piecing together a more complete picture of who you are. Then, at just the right moment, when he feels the timing is perfect, he finally steps in to join the conversation. It’s subtle at first—he’ll start with a small comment, carefully weaving his way into the discussion, showing that he’s been paying close attention all along. As the days go by, his contributions become more frequent and thoughtful, revealing the depth of his growing interest in who you are and what you care about. His once quiet presence turns into something more meaningful, as he becomes increasingly eager to engage with you on a deeper level, no longer content with simply watching from the sidelines.

As you and Jeongin grow closer, his thoughtful nature becomes increasingly apparent. He always seems to be looking out for you in subtle but meaningful ways. Whenever he gets something to eat or drink, his eyes naturally land on you first, checking if you’re comfortable "Want some? It's not too spicy, you should eat something. Let's share," he said with a gentle smile.. Without fail, he’ll ask if you want something as well, or sometimes, he’ll even offer you a bite, gently feeding you with a playful smile. His attentiveness feels effortless, as if caring for you has become second nature. What makes these moments even more special is the way he looks at you. His gaze is soft and full of warmth, like you’re the most important person in the room. It’s clear that he’s always aware of you, even in the smallest details. And when you catch his eye and smile back, he smiles too, his expression lighting up as if your happiness brings him joy. Through these little acts of care, it’s clear that Jeongin’s affection for you runs deep, showing just how much you truly mean to him.

[antinousletmehit]

୨୧┇More early palace bc u guys eat it up

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Y/N wandered into the hall where the suitors lounged, their boisterous laughter and crude jokes echoing through the space. She hesitated for a moment, eyeing her brother Antinous at the center of it all, seated like a king among them. He was laughing at some joke Eurymachus had just made, a goblet of wine in hand and a smug look on his face.

“Antinous,” she called softly, approaching him.

He glanced at her briefly, his smile fading into an indifferent expression. “What do you want?” he asked, his tone dismissive.

She hesitated, wringing her hands. “I just… I wanted to talk to you about something important.”

“Not now,” he said curtly, waving her off without even looking at her.

“But it’s—”

“I said, not now,” he snapped, cutting her off.

The suitors snickered at the exchange, their eyes darting between Antinous and his little sister. She felt her face flush with embarrassment, but she stood her ground.

“Antinous, it’s important—”

Before she could finish, Antinous turned to her with an exaggerated sigh. “Y/N,” he said, his voice dripping with mock patience. “What did I just say?” The suitors chuckled louder now, clearly enjoying the show. Her cheeks burned, but she refused to back down.

Antinous stood up, towering over her. “You’re such a pest, you know that?” he said, reaching out to grab her cheeks with both hands. He squished them tightly, making her lips pout involuntarily.

“Wh-wha—” she tried to protest, but her words came out garbled thanks to his grip.

“Aw, look at her,” Antinous teased, turning to the suitors with a grin. “Isn’t she just adorable? My little sister, always sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.” The suitors erupted into laughter, some clapping and others shaking their heads in amusement.

Her eyes welled up with tears, but Antinous wasn’t done yet. With a smirk, he pushed her toward the door. “Go play with your dolls or something, Y/N. The grown ups are talking.” He gave her a gentle but firm shove, and she stumbled slightly before catching herself. The humiliation was unbearable, and she quickly turned on her heel, running out of the room without looking back.

The laughter of the suitors followed her down the hall, and as she disappeared from sight, Antinous sat back down, his smug grin faltering for just a moment. But he quickly shook it off, taking another swig of his wine and rejoining the conversation as if nothing had happened.

——

Y/N strutted confidently down the palace hallways, her sights set on Telemachus, who was standing near a corner, speaking with Melanthius and Amphinomus. As usual, he looked a little too serious for her liking, and she couldn’t resist the urge to tease him. “Hey, princeling,” she called out, her voice dripping with playful mockery. “What are you doing here, practicing your brooding?”

Telemachus turned toward her with a groan. “What do you want now, Y/N? Haven’t you caused enough trouble today?”

She smirked, crossing her arms as she sauntered closer. “Trouble? Please, I’m just here to brighten your dull little life.” Melanthius and Amphinomus chuckled behind Telemachus, clearly enjoying the interaction. Eurymachus, standing off to the side with his arms crossed, was already grinning, waiting for the chaos to unfold.

She leaned in, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Maybe if you smiled more, people wouldn’t mistake you for a statue.”

Telemachus rolled his eyes, stepping back. “Why don’t you go bother someone else for a change?”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” She said, stepping forward again.

But before she could get closer, her foot caught on the edge of a rug. With a startled yelp, she tripped forward, completely losing her balance. Telemachus instinctively reached out to steady her, but in the process, her face collided with his. Their lips pressed together for the briefest, most awkward second imaginable.

The hallway fell silent for a moment before exploding with noise.

Melanthius and Amphinomus burst into raucous laughter, practically doubling over. Eurymachus clutched his stomach, howling with amusement. “Well, well, look at that! The little prince is all grown up into a man!” he teased, wiping a fake tear from his eye.

She staggered back, her face flushing a deep crimson as she stammered, “It—it was an accident!”

Telemachus looked equally horrified, his face a bright red as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “What the hell, Y/N?!”

Amphinomus clapped Telemachus on the back, laughing uncontrollably. “You’ve got your first kiss, Telemachus! Congratulations!”

Melanthius added with a smirk, “Didn’t think it’d happen with her, though.”

“Shut up!” Telemachus barked, his embarrassment only fueling the suitors’ amusement. But the laughter quickly died down as Antinous appeared at the end of the hallway, his expression dark and thunderous. He had clearly witnessed the entire thing, and his knuckles were already white from clenching his fists.

“What. The. Hell,” Antinous growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Telemachus turned toward him, his hands raised in defense. “Antinous, it wasn’t—”

Before he could finish, Antinous stormed forward, his eyes blazing with fury. “You little bastard!” he bellowed, grabbing Telemachus by the collar. “How dare you put your filthy hands on my sister?!”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Telemachus protested, struggling against Antinous’s grip. “She tripped!”

“Doesn’t matter!” Antinous snapped, shoving Telemachus back against the wall. “You keep your distance from her, or I swear I’ll—”

“Antinous, stop!” She cried, tugging at his arm. “It was an accident, I swear!” But Antinous was too far gone, his anger boiling over as the other suitors watched in stunned silence, unsure whether to intervene. Eurymachus, despite his usual bravado, stayed back, his eyes wide as Antinous loomed over Telemachus.

“I’ll kill you,” Antinous snarled, his voice low but seething with rage. “I don’t care if you’re the prince. You touch her again, and you’re dead.”

“Antinous!” She yelled again, tugging harder.

Finally, Antinous relented, shoving Telemachus away with a snarl. He turned on his heel, grabbing y/n by the wrist and dragging her down the hallway. The suitors remained frozen for a moment before Eurymachus broke the silence with a nervous laugh. “Well, that escalated quickly.”

Telemachus groaned, rubbing his neck. “Why do I even bother?”

Meanwhile, as Antinous dragged her away, she muttered under her breath, “You’re so dramatic.”

Antinous shot her a glare. “You’re grounded.”

——

Y/N sat at the long dining table, pouting furiously as Antinous stood behind her, fussing over her like she was a toddler. He was carefully adjusting the position of her cup of juice, ensuring it wouldn’t spill, and cutting her bread into tiny, bite-sized pieces. “Here,” Antinous said gently, placing the plate in front of her with a proud smile. “I don’t want you choking, so just eat slowly, alright?”

She groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Antinous, I’m not a child! I can eat on my own!”

“You’re still a kid,” Antinous replied as if that explained everything. “You still need someone to watch out for you.”

Across the table, Melanthius was grinning wickedly as he took a bite of meat. “Aww, look at little y/n getting pampered by her big brother. Do you need a bib too, sweetheart?”

Amphinomus snickered, leaning back in his chair. “Careful, Antinous. She might spill her juice if you’re not quick enough.”

Eurymachus, as usual, leaned his chin on his hand, watching the chaos unfold with an amused smirk. “Should we bring her a high chair? Maybe some mashed fruit?”

The group burst into laughter, the mocking echoes filling the hall. Her cheeks burned crimson as she glared daggers at them, but her humiliation only seemed to spur them on further.“Stop it!” she snapped, but her voice cracked slightly, betraying how flustered she was. “I’m not a baby!”

“Of course you’re not,” Antinous cooed, completely ignoring her protests as he reached over to smooth her hair. “You’re my little sister, and I’m just making sure you’re taken care of.”

She swatted his hand away, her embarrassment quickly turning into frustration. “I don’t need you treating me like this in front of them! They’re laughing at me because of you!”

“Let them laugh,” Antinous said nonchalantly, crossing his arms as he shot the suitors a warning glare. “They’ll stop when I break their noses.”

Melanthius smirked, unfazed by the threat. “Oh no, Antinous, please don’t hurt us for making fun of the baby.”

Amphinomus leaned forward, adding in a sing-song tone, “Careful, y/n. If you cry, Antinous might have to rock you to sleep.”

Eurymachus stifled a chuckle, clearly entertained by the whole ordeal. “Relax, N/N. You’re adorable when you’re mad.”

She slammed her fists on the table, standing up so quickly that her chair scraped against the floor. “You’re all jerks!” she yelled before storming off, her steps echoing down the hall.

Antinous glared after her, then turned his furious gaze to the laughing suitors. “You idiots think you’re funny?” he growled.

“Oh, come on,” Eurymachus said, holding up his hands defensively, though his smirk remained. “We’re just teasing her. She’ll get over it.”

“She shouldn’t have to get over it,” Antinous snapped, grabbing a piece of bread from the table and hurling it at Eurymachus, who ducked just in time. “Next time, I won’t miss.”

Amphinomus shook his head with a grin. “You’re way too overprotective, Antinous. She might be tougher than you think.”

Antinous didn’t reply. Instead, he grabbed y/n’s untouched plate and muttered under his breath, “At least I know how to take care of her.” Then, with the plate in hand, he strode after his little sister, determined to make sure she ate—whether she liked it or not.

@simpformoonkight @xo-cuteplosion-xo

[kaiserposting]

Michael Kaiser — Stench

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 9k TYPE: Angst, Childhood friends, Making up, occasionally funny WARNING(S): Poverty, implied/referenced child abuse, house break-in, spoilers for Kaiser's backstory, if I missed something lmk NOTE(S): This is a two shot but I'm posting it here combined for my own convenience. The numerals show how the chapters are separated and indicates a long time skip.

I.

Someone’s coming closer and closer. It’s hard to catch Kaiser off guard — he’s sensitive to the slightest of sounds, so he can hear them approaching from behind without trouble, these sloppy footsteps slapping against the cement as if the owner is wearing really shitty shoes. He freezes with the ball still in his hands, doesn’t dare look back and check who it is, an irrational part of his brain suspecting it to be his father.

It takes a while for whoever it is to cross the distance, and then an unfamiliar voice rings, “Hey.”

Kaiser glances over his shoulder finally. You stand there, peering down at him while he’s sitting, cigarette spreading fumes in the air even though you don’t look any older than him. He doesn’t say anything to acknowledge you, though, just stares, tense and confused about your intentions.

You crouch down so you are at eye level with him. The bad smell follows, wafting by his nose and he holds down a cough on the off chance any noise might set you off and make you violent. You pull it out of your mouth and flick it away from him, apparently possessing enough decorum to stop blowing smoke in his face. “Why are you always doing that?”

“Huh?”

Kaiser knows what you mean, but he can’t help asking. After all he’d noticed you before all those times just like you’d noticed him. Every day you hang around the solitary playground at a distance while he messes around with the ball, though he never expected you’d speak to him. If anything you never pay much mind to each other.

You usually leave like you’re on some kind of schedule, but you’re up close to him now and he can see you’re in a similar condition to him — bruises and dirt littering your skin, tattered and ill-fitting clothes barely hanging onto your frame. The offenders behind your loud entrance he identifies as the torn pink fuzzy slippers he always sees you wearing, smeared with faded mud. Certainly not the most reliable footwear, but you’re in a better boat than he is on that front, what with him not wearing any shoes at all. Not his fault he outgrew his last pair, although naturally his father found a way to blame him. He’s creative like that.

“You’re always kicking the ball and punching the shit outta it.”

Embarrassed by the reasoning behind his behavior maybe, Kaiser averts his eyes. He hopes not responding will dissuade you from interacting with him.

It doesn’t work. “What’s your name?”

“… Michael.”

“So basic, but fine. I’ll call you Micha, ok?”

“You don’t need to call me anything.”

You offer your name in return. After taking another drag, you smile and ask, “How old are you?”

“Thirteen,” he says, figuring this is unimportant enough information that he can offer it without consequences until you grow bored and go away.

You grin at him and squint your eyes. The expression makes you seem smug for no discernible reason. “I’m fourteen, so I’m your senior. You can call me boss if you want. Got it, small fry?”

What an annoying attitude. He places the ball over his stomach and adjusts his position so he’s hugging his knees, this surly expression on his face. “It’s not even that big of a difference…”

“You sound so pensive when you talk. Hey, why do you kick the ball even though you don’t have shoes? Doesn’t it hurt?”

What else is someone supposed to do with a piece of trash except hurt it? Expressing such a sentiment out loud seems shameful, though. “Why are you smoking even when it’s bad for you and stupid and tacky? Why are you asking dumb questions even though you’re not getting anything out of it?”

You burst out laughing. “Woah, relax. Touchy.” When he doesn’t respond and instead continues scrutinizing you with scorn (which at this point you deem undeserved), you say, “I stole ‘em off someone. What’s stopping you from stealing a pair of shoes?”

“They’re too big to steal. It’s impractical.”

“You think small, but fair enough,” you say, before standing up, still grinning. Then you wave. “I’ve gotta go now. I’ll see you tomorrow, Micha.”

“Who said I want to see you?”

You laugh again as if his rejection is funny, but trudge on away from him. “C’mon, lighten up.”

Kaiser scoffs, pressing his cheek against the ball, tightening his hold against it. There is nothing to lighten up about.

___

Kaiser hasn’t taken any particular liking towards you, but you do hang out together every day since you approached him. He’s not sure why he tolerates your presence. Maybe because you’re resourceful — stealing is so much easier when you two coordinate. Or maybe it’s nice to talk to someone who doesn’t seem to want to strike him down and strangle him.

Currently you’re at the playground again. The lighter you use has some ugly, childish print on it. Kaiser is trying to inflate his ball with the air pump you swiped together from a shop in town earlier after you made fun of how ‘sad and flat’ it was and came up with the idea. When he hears the flicker and then registers the smell, Kaiser asks, “How many do you smoke a day?”

“One is to be stylish. Two is if I didn’t appreciate the first one enough. Three is if I still don’t feel like shitting.”

Kaiser frowns in disapproval at the moronic remark. Funny in an ironic sort of way how this lifestyle has you sounding like a ridiculous, fake adult — neither child nor mature, but something else entirely. A different category of human. He wonders if you think the same about him. “You fucking smell. How many are there in a pack?”

“Twenty,” you say after uselessly flipping over the lid, even though for one it’s not full and you already know the answer anyway, so it’s not necessary to check.

“So if you smoke three a day then you have to… steal one every two weeks?”

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion at this assessment. “No, that’s not right. It’s like once or twice a week depending.” Then you do some weird counting on your fingers for a while. “But even if it was exactly three a week, that’s like six point six or some shit like that. Dummy.”

“Shut up, shithead,” says Kaiser, embarrassed.

“Ok.”

“Leave me alone. I didn’t think about it too much.”

“I’m not even saying anything.” A moment of silence passes until an enlightened remark comes to mind. “Hey, Micha.”

“What?”

You scoot a little closer to him. Kaiser gets nervous at first and freezes, but calms down when it seems you’re not inching your hands towards him. Though the relief is short-lived because then you take an exaggerated sniff of the air and grin. “You stink too.”

He glares at you.

The ball ends up fine. Sure, it’s still beat up and dirty as most things around him, but at least it’s functional enough to kick again, and that’s what’s important.

___

“What now,” says Kaiser with an attitude of being greatly inconvenienced before plopping down next to you on the sidewalk.

You continue counting, trying to keep track of how much money you have on you. A series of gross, dry coughs escapes your mouth. When the fit near passes, you spit on the ground as if to ease your throat, hitting your chest for good measure. Kaiser watches the display with an impassive look on his face. Eventually you turn towards him and ask, “What’s your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Ok.”

“You’ve been quiet, not talking to me.”

“I’m gonna go get a haircut so I’m trying to see if I have enough,” you say, figuring he’s wondering about what you’re doing in a roundabout way.

Kaiser rams his head into his knees and makes some kind of noise which you can’t categorize between acknowledgement and disapproval.

You say, “Those children from the schoolyard were telling me having a bad haircut is ‘social suicide.’ Like ‘getting stabbed’ everyday. Apparently it’s the bowlcut that’s really shameful.”

“Other people have such stupid problems,” he says, irked, resentful. “I just cut it with scissors at home.”

“Yeah, man, I can tell. They wash your hair at the hairdresser though, so I wanna go now.”

“You really hang out with them? What do you even talk about?”

You shrug, pulling out a cigarette and then the hideous lighter. The smoke will waft by his nose again and irritate him. It’s unpleasant. The smell he associates with you is unpleasant, but it’s also yours so it’s kind of conflicting. “Recently I’ve been telling them I’m a ghost from the forest.”

Kaiser remains unamused the way you’ve always known him, but after some contemplation graces you with a snort, which makes you smile in return. He asks, “They don’t believe that. Right?”

“Maybe. They’ve got a what-do-you-call-it… You like football, don’t you?”

“A pitch.” He rolls his eyes as if forgetting the word is some kind of crime. Back he goes to frowning.

“Yea, they have that. You should sneak in with me sometime.” You shrug again as if the suggestion isn’t a big deal. “It’s fun.”

His nose scrunches at the thought, forehead wrinkling. It pisses him off just imagining it — truly a sickening concept. Why would you subject yourself to such a thing? Mingling with children who have nice things and an education and clean clothes and probably eat proper meals every night with their families. He doesn’t want to exchange pleasantries with people who can afford to concern themselves with social suicide. Stomach twisted in knots, Kaiser almost hurls, but somehow swallows the bile back down.

“Never,” he denies with finality.

“So dramatic, Micha.”

“Like you’re any better. You don’t care about anything. At all.”

At the sound of his tone getting more sulky than usual, you decide to spare him another glance. “Aww, are you tearing up?”

“No,” Kaiser lies, lips wavering. Unable to hold it in yet desperate to hide, he settles for covering his face with his hands, folding over himself. “I just fucking… hate this place. And I want out so… so bad.” Aside from the muffled sobs, there are also voice cracks littering his admission.

The thing is: you don’t really know what to do to make it all better.

___

Kaiser feels like he’s about to get a cramp from keeping his leg in this position for so long, lifted up and extended. Recently he stole a pair of sneakers from the thrift store, but the soles ended up falling off. Now you’re lathering everything in glue and wrapping it in tape in an attempt to salvage the situation.

“I’m not sure this is how it works,” he says. It’s kind of meek — a pathetic mumble — but you can recognize unwarranted criticism when you hear it.

“Take it or leave it.” You snap off the tape and move onto the next shoe.

When a snarky or otherwise offensive response doesn’t immediately come to mind, Kaiser resigns to silence. He continues observing you while you squeeze out copious amounts of glue. For a moment the only noises between you are those of your sniffles, the obnoxious huffing in of snot.

A few raindrops pour down, pelting your heads at the same time. You hiss when you realize your hard work is about to go to waste while all Kaiser provides in terms of reaction is a blink and a downwards twist of his lips.

“I don’t wanna go home,” you say, sounding distant, which he doesn’t hear from you much — usually there’s a lilt of amusement in your tone, some kind of playfulness lingering in all your words.

“I don’t either. It’s pointless anyway because you’ll get drenched by the time you go home and then there’s nothing to dry yourself with properly and it’s all one huge pain in the ass.”

“Right.” After signaling your agreement with his assessment, you shrug off your hoodie and stretch, trying to drape it enough so that it shields the two of you from the rain. Kaiser accommodates your goodwill by adjusting his position, scooting over next to you and cramming so he’s taking as little space as possible. It’s not an adequate cover by any means and you can tell his shoes will break apart again. But Kaiser is hugging you around the waist, resting his cheek against your neck, and you don’t have to deal with being at your place yet, so it can’t be all that bad.

___

“You look like a pufferfish,” you say unhelpfully.

Kaiser narrows his eyes at you in that way he tends to do which you haven’t seen anyone else replicate exactly. It’s kind of amusing when he does that, especially when one of them is irritated and droopy. “And you look like a spoiled apple.”

“Don’t mind. It’s a lot of bad things happening to me in that house.”

“I know,” says Kaiser.

You rub your cheek and then some more under your eye where the spots are the brightest. It makes him wince because your hands must be dirty, what with everything you two get up to in a day. Since Kaiser’s father strangles him, he’s always swollen and not so much bruised, but he thinks your parents must only leave it at punches while making up for it with enthusiasm. “I kinda like touching them when some time passes.”

“You’re sick.”

“Honestly I was, but it went away. I think I might have an ingrown toenail though.”

“No… I mean in the head.” To emphasize his point, Kaiser reaches out to probe your temple with his index finger. There’s another scratch blooming there, only coming to attention once his focus lands there, but it’s a waste of energy fixating on any of the small ones — he just can’t help but notice sometimes. “By the way, I don’t need to know what kind of toenail you have.”

You laugh, apparently finding his remark funny somehow. Then you reel your hand back before bringing it back down quickly as if you’re about to slap him. Still retaining his common sense, Kaiser flinches and tries to defend himself with his forearm. The reflex is foreign since he usually takes it lying down without moving an inch when it’s his dad.

His reaction makes you laugh harder for some reason, and you don’t smack him at all. Kaiser glares at you for your unfunny prank but you disregard it. Your hands settle around his throat instead, lightly tracing over the purple fingerprints, still fresh from last night. Almost immediately he clenches his teeth, tightlipped, breaking out into a sweat, expecting a harsh squeeze which never comes.

Kaiser wants to scold you for your idiotic behavior, yet he doesn’t. Maybe your hands aren’t for harm, he decides. And then he reaches out too, pressing his knuckle against the darkest contusion on your face. Your eye twitches closed. It turns into a strange fascination then, your skin touching his and his touching yours in places others had hurt. A ritualistic erasement.

___

You’re splitting the money again after selling off another valuable. It was some kind of fancy watch you two stole this time, more ballsy than usual. Once you pocket your share, you ask, “Are you saving up?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna move? Where?”

Kaiser shrugs. “I don’t care. Anywhere but here.”

You hum and walk ahead of him, probably looking for one of the drinking fountains in the area.

Either compelled by unusual curiosity or bothered by your silence, he says, “You wanna make it the fuck out of here too. Where would you go?”

“To the beach.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes behind your back, finding your answer stupid. Sure, the beach is an exotic idea considering he has never been to one, but all he can imagine is the sand sticking to his skin and the gross seaweed he’s seen in commercials inside stores and such. But on second thought both of these things are probably way less gross than the environment he spends every day in. He lets out a performative huff anyway and says ‘huh’ as if to demand an elaboration.

“I wanna be free like one of those seagulls that fly over the sea. D’you wanna be a seagull with me, Micha?”

“No. That’s dumb,” he says. You ignore him. Kaiser steels his nerves for a second and, after a dry swallow, takes a step so that he’s walking next to you rather than lagging behind. Then he brushes his fingers against yours lightly before making a sweaty, half hearted attempt at holding your hand. His cheeks are warm in a way he hasn’t felt them before. “Take me to your shitty beach someday.”

You make a more competent attempt at hand holding, grasping his fingers in yours until they’re interlacing, and then you swing your arms up and down. Kaiser has enough sense to be embarrassed by this, but doesn’t tell you to stop. He doesn’t know why, but this is the kind of contact he feels the need to savor. “So you do want to be a seagull.”

“Not interested.”

“You’re such a sourpuss, Micha, never playing along with anything.”

“It’s not my fault you make it sound dumb- Well, do you think it’s any use? Hoping for something like that…”

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up.”

“I won’t give up,” he says. “I just don’t know if it’ll work.”

“Come on. We’re gonna get out of here together someday. That’s gotta work.” You lift his arm in the air next and try to make him spin like a dancer. Though Kaiser is used to standing still and limp and letting things happen to him, the attempt doesn’t come out successful. At most he does a slight twist.

“Yeah. Together,” he agrees, like a promise. He imagines messing around with you in the sand with the sun warming his skin in contrast to the perpetual chill he’s become used to. Honestly despite belittling the idea earlier, it doesn’t seem so bad in his mind.

___

Kaiser yawns while sitting next to you on a bench, eating a burger. Since you’re famous for your generosity and kindness and all (not), you decided to ‘splurge out’ by buying food for you both from some shitty hole in the wall. It’s the most filling meal you’ve had in a while. You’re still chewing when you ask, “Are you tired or something?”

He rubs his eyes. “My father was fucking making noises throwing up all night.”

“Ah, your worthless sperm donor.” You nod sagely in acknowledgement.

“Yea, him. It reeked too and when I went to clean it, there were whole chunks in his vomit.”

You scoff. “Don’t clean after him.”

“Not like anyone’s going to clean it if I don’t.” Two more yawns accentuate his sentence. You reach out to throw away the container. For a second you consider keeping the plastic cutlery and maybe washing it at the drinking fountain later, but that seems too desperate even for you. Kaiser says, “I’d take a nap right now if I could, but I don’t want to go back yet.”

“It’s sunny today for the first time in a while. Would be a waste.” You watch Kaiser while he wipes his mouth and his fingers with the napkin. The dark circles around his eyes are worse than usual. “You can lie down on me and sleep if you want.”

“Huh? Really?”

“Yea, it’ll probably be really boring, but I’ll tolerate it,” you allow, ever so charitable.

Kaiser frowns, contemplating. He’s silent for so long, you forget you even suggested anything, but he eventually shifts around and rests his head on your lap, tense. You rake your fingers through his hair. “Don’t smoke,” he warns, but it’s kind of difficult to act butthurt when you’re being so… gentle with him.

“I won’t.”

“Seriously, don’t smoke right now.”

“I said ok already.”

Now that the matter is settled, he decides to trust you and flutters his eyes closed. Though your thighs and the bench aren’t the most comfortable places in the world, to Kaiser who only knows the cold hard floor, such an opportunity is borderline luxurious. The tang of the cigarettes clings even to the fabric of your pants, to your fingers — his favorite smell. You continue stroking his scalp and he dozes off with ease within minutes. Even though he’s snoring already, he moves to wrap his arms around your knee as if he feels a compulsive need to hold onto something in his sleep.

Kaiser looks surprisingly peaceful and precious right now. You hope he’s having a nice dream if any. A long stretch of ennui is ahead of you.

___

The antics have been ramping up as of late. In your defense, you weren’t sure how you were supposed to resist urging Kaiser to break in with you when you noticed the house with the open first floor window, clearly vacant. Though at first he displayed kleptomaniacal tendencies and wanted to rummage through the drawers for anything expensive, you deemed it too risky since you had no idea when the owner would come back. And then you told him you were merely interested in taking a proper shower.

Now you’re almost dry, waiting for Kaiser to finish. You can’t remember the last time you were so free of grime. Wearing the old clothes again almost feels shameful, like a step back. You sniff your armpit like a weirdo and realize your skin smells good .

Kaiser takes a while to come out and emerges looking like he underwent some kind of magical girl transformation. He’s trying to soak up the water from his hair with a towel, sending specks flying everywhere and dripping down his shirt when you blurt out, “You’re handsome.”

In a fashion you’d consider comedic, he stops dead in his tracks to gape at you with flushed cheeks. “What?”

“Your face is pretty.” He blinks. A crease appears on his forehead in apparent disapproval, though you’re not sure what he’s mad about (it’s a compliment!), especially when he’s still blushing. You make a vague hand gesture near your head to clarify your next point, “Try untangling it with your fingers.”

It takes Kaiser a good few seconds to get with the program before he twitches to attempt and follow your advice, but you both freeze when you detect the unmistakable sound of a door closing and locking downstairs. You push him back into the bathroom and close it behind yourself as gently as possible. Then you drag him back to the tub and gesticulate incomprehensibly some more to signal you should both get in and hide before sliding in behind the curtain and reclining on your side. Kaiser follows after you, but you think you might be doomed. It’s still wet, too, which is unpleasant, but not a priority considering the upcoming disaster.

Kaiser opens his mouth to speak, so you clamp it shut with your palm before putting your index finger over your lips. He embraces you, and he’s trembling, and then he hides in your neck as if you’re going to save him from whatever is about to come.

Like you’d assumed, the house owner enters almost immediately. You’re nauseous, stomach clenching. Kaiser is making a stunning impression of a corpse the way he’s not even breathing anymore in his attempt at being quiet. Your muscles are so tense on alert that it hurts and each passing second puts you more on edge.

Thankfully the flush comes and then the running water and then the person leaves with a click. Their footsteps get fainter and fainter until another door opens and closes. You stand and step out, trying not to make a noise still. Before going out into the hallway you throw a glance over your shoulder just to make sure Kaiser is still walking behind you, which he is.

Your movements are slow and light. The escape, especially while making your way down the stairs, is drawn out and excruciating. You hop out through the window you came in from. There you are outside, somehow without incident.

You turn to look at Kaiser again once you hear the rustle of the grass accompanying his jump. With the adrenaline still kicking, you break out into a sprint, eager to get far away. Kaiser catches up to you and you burst out laughing but you’re not even sure why, since you don’t find any of what transpired particularly amusing. A slight smile appears on his face when he recognizes the sound.

___

The next day you notice Kaiser isn’t at the playground, even though he always gets there before you do. No biggie — you can exert some patience.

After a while you start tapping your foot. It’s not like you have a watch to check what the time is or how long it’s been or a phone to ask him where he’s at. So you settle on putting on a show of irritability.

Nothing. Your legs hurt so you go sit down on the swing. You’re getting pretty old for the playground anyway, you think as you pull out a cigarette and light it, eyes darting around. Parents and their children, but no sign of Micha.

You exceed your usual three and end up burning half the pack in your attempt to occupy yourself during your waiting. It relaxes you usually, smoking, when you have a lot of shit juggling around your brain, but it doesn’t work this time.

Did something happen?

… Did his dad finally kill him?

___

Kaiser doesn’t show up at the playground ever again no matter how many times you go.

___

It’s another day where you need to shield your eyes from the sunlight with your hand. You’ve been seeing more of those since you ran away. Must be allegorical or some shit.

From your peripheral vision, while you walk down the street, you pass by a store that has one of those TVs on display, playing a sports game. You spare a moment to look, intrigued, nostalgic in a way — it reminds you of when you were little, when that kind of thing was more common.

They’re playing football, you realize, and you find that evocative too. Some guy scores a goal and they zoom in on him even though he’s not celebrating, instead choosing to stand there like a statue with his arms crossed. Like he’s too cool to get excited, which strikes you as obnoxious.

Then they show his face in full, up front.

You know that face. You’d recognize that face anywhere.

The back of his jersey reads ‘Kaiser’ and yet you never knew him as anything besides his first name.

At first you’re relieved considering you were under the impression catastrophe must’ve befallen him, but the solace doesn’t last long. When the realization hits, your eyes widen and your lips fall into a thin line. It's similar to a punch in the gut how all the air seems to vacate your chest. All this wind around you and you can’t get any.

The only person you ever loved left you behind without a second glance in your direction.

___

II.

Michael Kaiser is mildly inconvenienced. Billions injured on the scene and millions more will die.

So maybe he’s been ranting at someone who he didn’t even glance at, eyes closed, mind way too lost in his reverie. A part of his brain doesn’t even comprehend he’s in fact speaking to a person instead of a cardboard cutout. It’s to his complete shock and bafflement when after so much babbling he receives a reply. “Hey, Mr. Kaiser was it? Shut the fuck up.”

He flutters his eyes open to give the ingrate a glare and speak his mind some more, but he freezes on the spot at the sight in front of him. His blood runs cold, heart stuttering in his chest.

He’d know that face anywhere, even if right now it’s more unamused and neutral — nothing like the expressions in his memories. He’s not sure why his body is reacting like this either, tensing up with a nervous jitter in his system.

Wasn’t he supposed to have left all that stuff in the past? Yet a single look at you is enough to cause this response: this uncertainty, like he’s still a little boy who veers towards hopeless and incompetent, and fuck, why are you giving him such a dead stare?

Do you not recognize him?

Do you not love him anymore?

It’s a rash thing to focus on as his immediate concern especially when he hasn’t been killing himself with worry over you or anything during your years apart, but right now when you’re in front of him it’s all he wants to know. Which is cruel and selfish in a way, in his specific Kaiser-ish way, how he’s first preoccupied with himself before he wonders about your state of mind or living situation. A need to bait for a sign you still care about him torments him even if it might be drastic right off the bat.

When no ingenious idea for such a thing comes to mind and Kaiser realizes he’s been staring at you like a moron, he says, “Don’t call me Mr. Kaiser. It makes me sound old and decrepit.” And that isn’t what you of all people should be referring to him as.

You continue assessing him in a manner which can be described as judgmental at best. “Isn’t that what you said your name is during your little monologue?”

“You already know what my name is.” The awkward silence which follows is almost unbearable. Kaiser scratches himself on the neck even though he’s not itchy just to pass the time. Finally he snaps, “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Sorry to break it to you, sir, but most employees anywhere aren’t happy to listen to ten minute long demented tirades about non-problems.”

“Well maybe I overreacted a little,” concedes Kaiser and gives you what he thinks is a suave smile in an attempt at downplaying how uneasy he is. He thinks you can feel it. He thinks you’re doing it on purpose, hurting him with intention. “Are you seriously going to act like you don’t know me?”

Your pitiless gaze sticks to him like glue even when you take out the ice cubes and throw a generous amount into his drink before sticking a paper parasol in it with lots of spite, which is what the big stink he threw a tantrum over was all about. Kaiser wants to tell you that you’re very hot when you’re no longer a starving punching bag, but thinks better of it. Doesn’t seem charming even coming from him. 

“There.” You slide the cup across the counter towards him. “I fixed your shitty smoothie.”

“It’s not a smoothie!”

“A mocktail is basically juice.”

Wrapping his fingers around it, Kaiser doesn’t leave. Instead he chooses to stay and observe you in silence, jaw clenching.

“You can go.”

“I’m not going until you admit you know who I am.”

“What, are you famous or something?” you ask, bemused.

Kaiser is on the cusp of hypertension because you’re doing it on purpose and you’re not even doing it well because you want him perfectly aware of what you’re up to. You’ve never done this — hurt him before, let alone by design — so Kaiser almost assumed you were incapable of it. Though it makes sense that you are. After all, you’re the same type of inhuman he is, and he’s done this if not worse hundreds of times, and even reveled in it. Yet the realization you’re not what he remembers of you stirs disillusionment within him. The nature of it, he doesn’t quite grasp.

Kaiser contemplates causing a scene more than he already has, but he’s not sure how to do so while still getting what he wants. Trying to joke even though above all he wants to throw a tantrum, he whines, “You’re so immature.”

“I’m sorry that my reaction to getting threatened with a lawsuit over ice cubes was immature, Mr. Kaiser.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about!”

Your exterior remains listless and vacant, and Kaiser wants to scream the longer you scrutinize him in this manner. Eventually you spin your finger near your temple as if to call him delusional, then move onto taking the order of someone else.

His eyes narrow until you’re so blurry he can barely see you, perhaps either to censor you from his sight or because a milder expression wouldn’t suffice in communicating his disdain. With a final grit of his teeth and maybe a visible vein on his forehead, Kaiser stands up to leave. Fine. You win this one, but it’s war now.

The scorch of the sand under his feet startles him. He kind of forgot how hot it was, what with getting so distracted. Another comeuppance on a list of many. Today is punishment.

Dramatic inner soliloquy aside, Kaiser makes it back to the beach bed quickly, still reeling over that interaction. You’re here? You’re here, in front of him again, and apparently you’re not too happy to see him.

In the most disinterested tone he can muster, Sae asks, “Did they fix your smoothie?”

“It’s not a fucking smoothie!” With the grace of a lobotomized koala, Kaiser drops it over the small table separating them and barely resists the urge to hurl it at Sae. This would do wonders for his mental health short term, but again he’s trying to feign decorum.

With his trademark deadpan, Sae pretends none of that just happened. Kaiser turns around to look back at the hotel bar where you’re gesticulating at your coworker. Both of you seem immensely annoyed, wild and animated while you converse.

“Fuck, they’re totally complaining about me.”

Sae follows the line of direction through which Kaiser is stalking you. After a few seconds of analysis, he says, “Those are definitely the ‘this shit stain just threatened to sue me,’ ‘wow, really, what the hell’ faces.”

Kaiser snaps his head to look at him with genuine surprise. “What- How’d you know?”

“... You’re so embarrassing, it’s predictable.”

“And you’re annoying,” he says. “I’ll tell Coach to get rid of you and airdrop me Ness.”

“It’s cute that you think the coach cares about your opinion on me enough to replace me. The same as thinking the strippers at the club like you, in a way.”

There is a while of silence where Kaiser’s just snarling while Sae seems like he couldn’t give less of a shit. Then he adds his finisher,

“Or I guess in your case it’s like thinking the bartender actually cares about your order.”

Oh, fuck this vacation.

___

The heat is unbearable.

You step out into the sun and saunter up the wooden path to take your break away from the beach. Sweat has been exuding from your skin for the last few hours. Even so when you make it to the sidewalk, you keep your eyes trained on the scenery as you trudge on to your destination. The sand, the sea, the plants — some natural and some artificial.

Before long your legs take you to your usual street vendor, where you’ll order a shitty pancake that won’t do much to nourish you, but it’ll be so sweet that you’ll be too nauseous to get hungry for a while. The queue isn’t unbearable.

Not until you sense someone hovering behind you, followed up by a hand settling on your shoulder. You turn around to grace the offender with a disgusted side glance, but you’re so baffled to see Kaiser there, you just… freeze.

He’s sneering at you. In fact he looks so happy with himself, you want to vomit. Preferably on him.

“What a coincidence,” he says without even a sliver of shame.

You roll your eyes and face front again, deciding it’s in your best interest to feign ignorance to his existence. Taking this as a sign to elevate the antics to a more obnoxious level, Kaiser resigns himself to the role of one of those domesticated leeches, hanging off you now, fully wrapping his arm around your shoulders. His gaze is burning into your side profile to the point it’s unnerving and you can feel the artificial smugness emanating from his form.

“I thought we were done talking yesterday.”

“Really? You did? How naive,” he coos at you mockingly.

It is convenient that during this time of need — when you’re lacking a good comeback — your time to order comes up. You talk to the guy working about your aforementioned shitty pancake. The moment you shut your mouth, however, Kaiser starts listing off things you’re not even keeping track of like you’re hanging out together or something.

With a mild dispute over whether it’s ‘backwards’ that they do not accept payment through a card, which makes you want to die because you’re a regular here and now the employee who knows you by face will associate you with this pest, Kaiser pays for your thing, too. On the one hand you’re prideful, but on the other you’ve lived the life of a bottomfeeder who takes every scrap they’re given without question, and it’s the kind of conditioning you can’t let go of. So you allow it.

He ends up with an inordinate amount of food in his hands, too much for one person to eat. You’re still doing your ignoring shtick even when Kaiser pulls you down to sit next to him on the table. Content with pretending he doesn’t exist as he is dead to you, you bite onto your food in relative peace, mind drifting somewhere else. Until he speaks that is. “This must be our fateful meeting.”

“I don’t see what’s so fateful about it if you followed me?”

Unbeknownst to you, Kaiser too is adept at the ‘hearing only what he wants to hear’ game. So he moves on with the conversation without any indicator of comprehending what you just said. “I think it’s quite ironic, actually.”

“What are you on about now?”

“You told me you want to go to the beach once. And where do I find you? On the beach. It's an astral influence, I’m sure.”

“Ah? I don’t remember telling you that.”

You’re blinking at him in mild confusion. This hurts Kaiser a hundred times more than when you were deliberately going out of your way to act dismissive of him because he can tell you mean it. To think one of the moments he clung onto the most had slipped your mind.

His eyes are wide and his lips stand still in a thin line, so he forces himself to smirk again and glosses over the information which just shattered him. “So you admit you know me then?”

“No, Mr. Kaiser, I have no idea who you are. I’m thinking you should admit yourself to a hospital. They say false memories are an important symptom in psychopathology.”

“Very funny. I prefer Micha or at least Michael, though.”

“Do I give a fuck?”

He scowls at you. “Yes.”

You finish off your pancake and wipe your hands with the napkin in mild disgust. Kaiser laughs at the wrinkle of your face while you do so, and then he scoots an inch closer.

“Help me finish it all off.” He gestures at all the paper plates.

Pinching between your fingers, you tug the first thing that seems appetizing closer to your side of the table. Kaiser scoops up some of the portion for himself and dumps it in another meal. You ask, “Why are you trying to suck up to me?”

“Aw, is it so wrong to want to treat my closest friend?”

You scoff. The movement of your eyelids fascinates Kaiser — you never really showed any annoyance towards him before, so he finds these expressions of distaste fascinating even if they make him sick. “We haven’t seen each other in four years, so if I’m still your closest friend somehow, that’s just sad. Be for real if you’re gonna be anything.”

“You’re being so difficult! What did I even do?!” To be honest, he’s lying and his gaze isn’t even shying away from you while he’s lying, not even a twitch. He knows you, so he knows that you’re mad he couldn’t be assed to tell you where he went even though he obviously could. He thinks playing dumb might be more in his favor here, though, so he’ll do that. “I don’t even like going to the fucking beach. I’ve been going every year to different places searching for you.”

The unbridled perturbation on your face upon hearing this is quite amusing. Priceless even. You were calling him crazy merely for the sake of fucking with him, and perhaps it was your earnest attempt at gaslighting him but you’re not about to admit it. Right now, though, you think he is genuinely insane.

“You’re saying that to appease me,” you accuse, hoping you’re correct, but also not. The idea he might’ve thought about you like you did about him while you were separated enthralls you, though you can’t let him win you over his bullshit.

“Maybe,” says Kaiser, trying to be mysterious.

Since he obviously wants you to ask him for an elaboration, you deny him the satisfaction.

“How much do you make working at that shitty bar?”

“Enough.”

“I should take you back to Spain with me,” Kaiser decides. With too much confidence at that. “You’d have anything you could ever want.”

It is not like it was before. He’s not acting the way he used to. You suppose you aren’t either. But anyway, you thought it inconceivable that he would ever joke — is he joking? — or make the absurd statements he’s been making. It’s natural, in a way, since you’re also not of the same temperament as before.

With a huff, you say, “You’ll never be my sugar daddy, Kaiser.”

“You’re no fun nowadays.” There’s an amused lilt in his tone while he sneers — you think the way he smiles is fake. You recall he was kind of quiet and awkward and stilted, unnatural at first maybe because he was out of practice in communicating with others, but now he speaks with insincere charisma, like a showman. Yet still the things he says so casually are off-kilter, ruining whatever illusion he’s attempting to sell. “And I said to call me Micha.”

“I don’t need to call you anything.”

It’s all about the metamorphosis. It’s about becoming each other so you’re never truly apart.

___

You’re crouching under one of the tropical trees overlooking the road by the wooden path leading down the beach. The shade is insufficient and the heels of your feet are digging into your ass to the point it hurts. Before your break, the thought of smoking a cigarette had entered your brain so you obeyed it as it was too pervasive even though you don’t enjoy lighting up anything during such weather, believe it or not.

Your eyes are glossy since you’re spacing out, taking puffs. When two silhouettes come to a halt right in front you, only then does the absentminded trance end.

Kaiser waves at you with unnecessary enthusiasm which is just for show. They’re late, arriving way past their usual time. Earlier when he and his companion didn’t show when you expected them to, you assumed maybe their vacation ended and they’d headed home.

The other guy is sullen, but at least his eye lashes are long, which must count for something. After sparing you a glance, he turns towards Kaiser and says judgmentally, “You’re still harassing staff.”

“I’m not har-”

Not giving a shit, the other guy straight up leaves, not bothering to participate in the discussion on a topic he brought up. You watch in mild bafflement as he walks off without a care.

“Ignore him,” Kaiser says. A plastic smile overtakes his face before he squats down next to you, butting into your body with his and almost toppling you over. This is probably bad for his knees, and you’re half exposed to the sun now. Somehow he has created several problems where there were none. “You still smoke.”

You don’t reply, but maintain the common decency not to blow any in his face. He should stay away from you. Isn’t he an athlete? Shouldn’t he be cautious about secondhand smoke? You consider putting it out altogether, then, so you stub it in the almost empty can of the fizzy drink you’d been drinking earlier.

“What kind of lighter do you have now? Has your taste gotten any better?”

No response again. He places an arm around your waist. Through touching you so often it’s like he’s trying to hammer it into your head that you were close, and yet intangible things seem to evade Kaiser, so maybe he’s struggling to conceive of any other way to reestablish your connection.

“You still smell the same. Like nicotine.”

“Well, you smell the way you used to, too.”

The space between his brows wrinkles and his nose twitches in irritation at your words. “The fuck do you mean? No, I don’t.”

“Let me spell it out for you in a way we both understand.” For the first time since your strange reunion, you reciprocate the physicality and pull him in by the shoulder till you’re forehead to forehead so you can look him in the eyes while explaining. “When I saw you a few days ago for the first time in so long, it was like you basically still had a sign that says ‘broke ass bum.’”

He gapes at you with incredulity, this offended expression on his face.

“I mean,” you say, snickering in bewilderment at the absurdity of his previous actions, “you were gonna sue me over some ice cubes, really? Acting like a spoiled little prince to disguise where you crawled out from? I think you and I have got the kinda stench not even all the Dior in Avenue Montaigne can wipe off.”

His fingers would’ve dug hard into your flesh if your shirt wasn’t in the way with how his grip tightens in response. The grit of his teeth exposes more of them. Strangely, you think he has nice gums. “Why the fuck are you being like this?”

“‘Cause you were content to forget all about me, but you don’t want me to be angry at you either. You should’ve just been polite and pretended you didn’t recognize me. But no, you want it all. I hate people like you who make no sense.”

“You’re just jealous,” Kaiser accuses, trying the snobby angle. If he’s pretentious then he’s not hurt by you claiming you despise him. At least that’s what he settles on.

“Sure. That could be true as well.” You stand up and take the can with you to throw away.

Kaiser plops down on the sand, tired of squatting, and doesn’t bother watching you plod back to the bar but the sound of your footsteps rings heavy in his ears until it dissipates. He hugs his knees like the wet wipe he is at heart.

The kindest person he’d known was a scammer and a liar and a thief and who knows what else. It hurts like nothing else to bear the weight of your desertion.

This must be cellular rejection. You should’ve been ecstatic to see him on account of your shared inhumanity. Does it not matter to you anymore, the fact that you and Kaiser are the same?

… Right; you’re not the ball. When he hits you, you can hit him back.

___

The beach is desolate and eerie at night. Kaiser came out to brood, which was fine because Sae didn’t care to ask him where he was going when he left the room. Unlike during the day, the sand is cool under his feet now — what an obtuse observation to make, all things considered. He’s annoyed and frustrated at himself as usual when things don’t go his way.

There’s a light illuminating someone’s face where they recline on one of the lounge chairs. It’s blue, meaning the source is a phone. Kaiser startles because he assumed he was alone.

And you startle when you see him staring at you in the dark, but instead of screaming all you do is let out an unconvincing gasp and turn on the backlight to reveal him. Kaiser covers his eyes with his forearms and turns away, letting out some vampiric kind of noise.

Then you frown and go back to tapping away on your shitty mobile game. “You’re such a creep honestly,” you say in distaste.

Once he gets over the assault you just committed on his admittedly sensitive eyes, Kaiser sits down next to you uninvited.

“It’s a coincidence,” he snaps. “I don’t want to be around you either. You’re so fucking exhausting. Can’t talk to you like a normal person at all because of your stupid grudge.”

“Then why are you still trying?”

Of course, there are many answers to that question. Some including but not limited to I think I can still love you like before and I miss you and I regret not sending you that postcard and I hate how you’re mad at me, but I can’t seem to get it right. Though such pathetic things aren’t in Kaiser’s nature to spew, so they never make it past his throat. The words constrict around his neck like a noose.

Instead of answering, he says, “You’ve got a phone now. You should give me your number.”

“No.”

“You’re just trying to make my life difficult for no reason!”

You give him another one of your blank stares. In the dullness of the night, obviously the gesture stays meaningless, though Kaiser can sense the bemusement in your silence at least.

Seeing that ignoring the problem at large isn’t turning out to be the winning move, Kaiser sighs and tries to think of what to say. There’s probably some kind of trick to this, some way he could fool you into overlooking his transgressions. Though when you were friends, he never did that to you, and you never left him then. Maybe it’s not necessary. In this situation, it’s proving to even be detrimental.

Kaiser picks at the skin on his neck. It’s to his benefit you can’t see each other well — he’s not sure he’d be able to spit it out without the detachment of the environment. “Listen, I’m not good at this shit, but… If I have to be honest, I was really paranoid. I didn’t want to think about the past and I didn’t want to get dragged back into it, so I was too scared to even write you a letter to tell you I’m fine. But stumbling on you again, it’s probably fucking stupid but I don’t want to lose track of you anymore. It’s lonely.”

“I wasted a year of my life thinking you were dead,” you say.

“I’m sorry.”

“Tomorrow’s my free day.”

There’s an uncertain excitement in Kaiser now, as if you might be yanking his chain and he doesn’t want to commit to the feeling right away. “Sure, I’m leaving after tomorrow, so that works. Meet me here and we can catch up.”

“I see this shitty beach enough as it is,” you say.

“Yeah, but not the way you’re supposed to.”

You shrug.

Without prompting or any indication that you care, Kaiser says, “I have a horrible sunburn.” He will always find something to bitch about. It’s like he’s never satisfied.

After a few swipes, you unlock your phone and pass it to him so he can add his contact information. “Then use aloe vera or something. What are you, stupid?”

“I don’t have any,” justifies Kaiser, inputting the digits. His tone is defensive because this is the first he’s heard of it, but it’s not like he’ll admit that.

Your forgiveness is fake, in a way. It’d been a grudge you held for a while and a betrayal you wouldn’t tolerate from anyone else. Maybe you’ll hold it over his head if he displeases you. So it’s not real forgiveness, is it, more so a lenience, a testament to your past, that your love for him somehow prevails over your need to enact the lex talionis.

___

The sand sinks under your weight with each step you take, waves lapping over the shoreline, seagulls and children squealing in the background. Sunset makes everything easier on the eyes and the heat is finally settling down since it’s getting late into the afternoon.

You had a nice time catching up with Kaiser in another part of the city, although he displayed a susceptibility to tourist traps. He gloated a lot, and you pretended you didn’t know about half of it from reading his Wikipedia page that one time when you were fostering your hate boner for him. You told him about how you ran away and ended up in another country and about how you’re still on the missing persons site.

Now you’re going back by the seaside instead of through the streets. You walk side by side, your ankles touching the water. Kaiser’s grin is wide, which makes him seem smug, but this time it doesn’t strike you as forced so maybe he is simply carefree. It’s an unusual sight for you — Kaiser, genuinely smiling.

“I think I’ll come see you again when it’s off season. Or maybe we can arrange for you to come visit me instead. I’ve got all sorts of things I want to show you,” he says. He never really had anything to give you before, and now he takes pride in having the means to do so, regardless of whether you’re interested or impressed.

“Whatever, Micha. You’re so full of it. I bet it’ll be lame or you’ll forget you promised.”

He remains pleased despite the teasing, even happier if possible. “It’s fine if you say pointless shit like that, I don’t mind a challenge. All I have to do is prove you wrong.”

___

Lol at the end of finishing this I teared up in Frustration because I couldn't write this the way I envisioned it and then I couldn't save it through editing either (<- guy who's defiinitely normal and casual ) and I kinda just wanted to be done with it so I'm not gonna hold it hostage any longer either. Idk I'm just mad and depressed about it rn i guess. Thank U all for tapping in

[ordowrites]

wants, desires

cw: afab reader (pronouns not used), slight not sfw content, mentions of masturbation (m), mentions of oral (f. receiving), mdni, minors do not interact, pining, yearning, fantasizing, self indulgent. slight fluff. no established relationship. slow burn. the reader is not the Traveler, the reader is a Vision user. slightly ooc. fade to black.

word count: 2,781

diluc month!!! i love this man and i wish to squish his cheeks between my hands. tbh for as much as i love to imagine him suave, i feel like he's the type to long and pine before awkwardly try to romance someone. i'm sorry for the length of this fic, i got carried away.

Diluc is a gentleman, he is known for his polite way of talking, and perhaps his standoff-ish personality but he is, all around, a gentleman. Raised in nobility, Diluc was taught how to behave and act accordingly, even if he found some of the rules to be stifling. He remembers his father once telling him that there are even proper and acceptable way to court someone (man or woman, so long as he did it properly, it would be alright).

He never listened to those rules much because he always figured he wouldn't need to court someone, after all, arranged marriages were still very common and everyone had assumed he and Jean would be marrying each other (until she turned down his spur of the moment marriage proposal with a polite smile and multiple apologies). After his father died, Diluc had decided that his life was too dangerous to bring someone else into it. Nobody has seen the hell he'd seen and he wishes to keep it that way.

Until you came into the picture, your smile rivaling the sun and your laugh infectious. You came here from Fontaine, is what you explained, showing your encased Vision. You worked for The Steambird for awhile but decided to move back to your late parents home nation of Mondstadt, because your father had always spoke so wistfully of it. So, you'd quit your nice and cushy reporter job and joined the Adventurer's Guild and are now able to work at its branch in Mondstadt.

He'd memorized every detail you shared with him, because you were just so fascinating to him. Diluc hated the way Kaeya's arm slung around your shoulders as if the two of you have been buddies your entire lives. Rosaria barely graces you with attention, simply electing to enjoy her drink with two extroverts intent on disrupting her peaceful night. You do not care for any rude putdown, allowing it all to roll off your shoulders.

When Kaeya becomes too drunk - supposedly - to carry on a decent conversation with you, Diluc picks up the slack. It's awkward and uncomfortable at first. Your name is sweet in his mouth, he tastes it and swirls it around some and fears that if he speaks it, he may taint it.

Interacting with you was a different level for him, it was strange because you were the first one in his life to make him lose his footing, make him lose his breath, and make him nervous. But not in the same way Adelinde makes him nervous when she places her hands on his hips and gives him a disapproving stare when he tracks blood and mud on her clean floors, not in the way Jean makes him nervous when she challenges some of his more intense ideals. This nervous was different, like if he messes up, that's it. His words are carefully chosen, he practices your name every morning, trying to get used to saying it in hopes that if he sees you around, he can call out to you like it's a normal, every day occurance.

And he does see you around sometimes, in the green uniform assigned by the Adventurer's Guild (truly, you would look much better in the clothes he could provide if you were his-) but you're always too busy to stop and engage in conversation. This does not stop you from waving at him, acknowledging his presence when he accidentally stops and stares for a little bit too long. Sometimes he gawks like a teenage boy and he can't help himself.

Diluc is a gentleman, he knows better than to have thoughts about you - it feels wrong when you creep into his mind too late at night and leave him wanting. His hand around his cock, his fingers working quick as he guiltily thinks what you might look like undone because of him. Wonders what you might taste like, how your legs would quiver around his shoulders while his tongue laps hungrily at your folds, and wonders what you'd sound like when you call out his name in desperation.

When those nights happen, he can't even look at you in the eyes when he sees you next. Diluc knows all of this is normal, but it doesn't feel normal for him.

He has your favorite drink memorized - you aren't a heavy drinker, alcohol wasn't much of a thing in Fontaine unlike coffee and tea. So, always one drink, nothing heavy, but it you like it sweet and fruity. Unlike Kaeya, he lets you have a free drink every once in awhile, tries to relish in the way you look at him with wide eyes and a bright smile. Tries to ignore the way his heart pounds and his breath quickens when you thank him. (You could ask him for the entire world and he will try to get it for you)

Diluc tries to recall all the lessons his father gave him on romance and dating, realizes that many of those lessons are a bit outdated and perhaps, would not work on someone like you. He considers asking Adelinde before deciding that he didn't want the third degree from his head housemaid (who is more like a mother to him).

So, he elects to watch you from afar - learn your likes and dislikes because talking to you is somehow harder than fighting a Mirror Maiden or being involved with a particularly difficult business partner.

And it dawns on him how stupidly mundane and normal it is to have a crush on someone. Diluc wasn't ever sure he was capable of normal. He can't do things normally and he's come to accept this at some point.

By some happenstance, he learns of your favorite flower and orders a bunch of them to be sent to you - anonymously, of course. Although, he wishes he could have your attention when they arrive at your doorstep from Fontaine, wondering if you're happy to receive them or not.

"Someone sent me flowers," you mention to him, one evening. Lately, you've been coming around more and more without Kaeya with you. You've made your own little group of friends here, easily fitting right in and he always tries to imagine where his place would be in your group of friends and it always spirals to him as your partner, your beloved. Your husband. "The note that came with it was very sweet, but I wish that it wasn't anonymous so I could thank them. I've been missing Fontaine recently."

Diluc swallows the lump in his throat, clears his throat - a strange nervous habit he has.

"Would that not take the romance out of it?" When you give him a strange look, he feels his face grow a bit hot. "I mean, I hear some of the maids talk about how they'd love to have a secret admirer, something about it being more romantic."

"Master Diluc," you gasp. "Are you, perhaps, a secret fan of romance novels?"

"Did I not just tell you I only hear these things from the maids?"

You smile a bit. "You're hard to tease, you know that?"

"My apologies." You blink, confused and he clears his throat again. "So, who do you think might have sent you those flowers?"

You open your mouth to say something, possibly another teasing comment before deciding against it. "I'm not sure," you admit. "I don't often have romantic entanglements. I had one partner back in Fontaine and it ended up as a disaster. We were colleagues and it was so stupid." You sigh. "He was never the type to buy me flowers."

Diluc makes note that he will spoil you proper with flowers when you become his.

After a few weeks, he orders you another batch of flowers - this time a mix of your favorite and another common flower from Fontaine. Rainbow Rose, pretty pink roses that he pictures would liven up the manor, and be in abundance at the wedding the two of you could have.

No, he has to tell himself. You can't get that far.

"What is on your mind tonight?" Diluc asks as he makes your favorite drink. You look at him, as if trying to read him. "That secret admirer of yours again?"

"Yeah. Flowers, again." You say. "No note this time, which is disappointing." You rub your forehead. "Master Diluc, what would you do if you have the feeling some anonymous person was trying to court you?" Diluc gets the feeling you're fishing for answers.

"That has never been a concern of mine." He tells you. "Most women who try to catch my attention are never discreet about it."

"You make it sound like that's the worst possible thing in the world."

"If they were not doing this simply so their fathers could secure a better business deal with the Dawn Winery, I suppose I wouldn't mind it." He doesn't dislike it but none of those women ever really hold his attention, although he's entertained a few of them in his time, the courting never went beyond a few meetings before they'd decide he just wasn't for them.

"You don't strike me as the type to like being given that kind of attention," you admit. "Ever the evasive and strange Master Diluc. Perhaps I have you pegged all wrong."

"Oh?"

"Mm," you say as you take a sip of your drink. "Rich men tend to throw their money and power around to garner themselves a romantic partner. Honestly, it's gross."

"Well, I have never seen the point in doing so." Diluc answers, bluntly, feeling a bit insulted you'd even thought of him that way. "So tell me, then, how do you like to be courted?"

"Well, for starters, as lovely as the secret admirer thing is, I prefer if someone can actually tell me if they have feelings for me," you inform him. "Anonymous flowers once is nice, twice will have me wondering if they even respect my time."

"Ah - would you like other gifts then?"

"No - well, I don't - ugh, that's hard to answer." You push your hair back and he loves the way it falls around your face. He loves that, even though you don't get drunk, you can get a bit more relaxed and looser with your words as you drink. "I mean, I'd like if the person who is...trying to court me as you say, would just tell me and do it properly."

"I see."

"Have you never been in a romantic relationship before, Master Diluc?" Maybe you do know and he should come clean. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbling.

Once, he thinks. Jean and I had this whole fake wedding when we were kids. But that doesn't count.

"Not really, no."

"Oh."

In this moment, he desires to lean over the counter and kiss you. See what you taste like with remnants of that fruity drink on your lips, if you would get angry or if you would lean into the kiss. He desires for his hands to wander, for you to invite him to touch you even further -

"Aw, drinking without me, my delightful friend?"

"Evening, Captain."

"Kaeya."

Diluc is a gentleman, and he is quite the heartbreaker, he knows this. He'd sent many noble women crying by accident - rejection hurts or his indifference is worse. Adelinde would scold him many times for it, reminding him that he should still be considerate of their feelings. But it's never his fault that they get upset for being told he's not interested.

With you, he has fantasized about kissing you, dramatic love confessions (because apparently those are a thing in romance novels from what he's heard Hillie and Mocco say as they worked), or just simply telling you, but it feels wrong to simply confess.

This pining is getting him nowhere, and he worries about sending you more flowers and earning your ire instead.

So, at the advice of Adelinde - after he tried to lamely claim it was Kaeya who was looking for the advice - he starts to write you letters. Many, but none quite fit what he feels. He can give you all the flowery words in the world, but they are not succinct enough. Diluc isn't exactly the best at words, not like Kaeya, who can have both men and women swooning very quickly. He's always held the attention and engagement of crowds and Diluc finds himself envious of that.

Finally, he elects to do something so stupidly simple.

He writes you a letter in the dead of night, exhausted from a days work, requesting if he could court you properly this time around. And he sends it.

Because of course he did.

Because that's what a proper gentleman should do, right?

You are late for your weekly visit to his tavern, and Diluc finds himself wishing he had Charles manning the bar tonight instead of him. Though why should he be acting like a lovesick schoolboy? He is a grown man.

An hour goes by, and you're not in your usual spot and he fears he may have driven you off with that letter that never should have been sent in the first place.

When you do finally arrive, it's an hour before closing and you look beat. But your smile, when you see him, is still as radiant as the sun (though perhaps that's him imagining things, he doesn't know anymore).

"You're...late." Diluc observes as you half slump in your seat, bag dropping to your side. "Are you okay?" Perhaps you haven't read his letter and that's why everything is almost relatively normal.

"I'm okay," you finally answer as he starts to make your drink. "Sorry I'm here an hour before you close, it's been a long day."

He sets the glass down in front of you. "Do you wish to talk about it?"

"Tsarvitch is such an asshole," you grumble. "Tsarvitch? More like Tsarbitch."

"Yes, I hear he can be a bit difficult." You lapse into a silence, watching him. "Do you wish to talk about something else?" You reach down, grabbing your bag and pulling out an envelope with the Winery's wax seal in blue. He has to look away.

"I received this letter from the Dawn Winery," you tell him, pointing to the blue wax seal and the return address. You pull the letter out of the envelope, and it's clear you've read it multiple times since he sent it a week ago. "From someone asking if they could properly court me." He doesn't want to look at the contents of that letter, he was deliriously tired when he wrote it. "Who, at the Dawn Winery, could have sent this?"

"I'm-"

"How come you didn't sign your name?" Diluc can't answer that. He doesn't remember what was going through his head. "My answer, though, Master Diluc, is yes. You can properly court me."

His heart pounds in his chest as he meets your eyes. Of course, the answer was so simple - Archons, why couldn't he have done this in the first place? A few whole months wasted, when he could have spent it with you in his arms.

"Are you sure? I'm-"

"I'm sure." You interrupt. It's not often someone of nobility seeks to date someone who is not a noble, but he can't help it. Diluc just hopes that they won't eat you alive, though he has a feeling you can handle your own when it comes to the more judgmental types. He may have to protect them from you.

"In that case," Diluc says, hoping he won't scare you away. "May I kiss you?"

"Always."

He delights in your answer, moving to step outside of the counter so the damn thing isn't in his way so he can fully and properly enjoy you. He cups your face between his hands, bending down some and pressing your lips together. Soft, sweet - Diluc is a selfish man sometimes and he longs for more when you break away.

You whisper something as he pulls you back in for another kiss. Your hands wrap around his shoulders and entangle in his hair. A small part of him longs to lift you up and take you on the counter, but he needs to take this slow. He is a gentleman after all, properly court before bringing you to bed with him.

Yet, you refuse to let the kiss end this time around, chasing after him.

"I want you," you whisper. "Diluc."

"No dinner first?"

"Ugh, you can make me breakfast instead." That was all he needed for him to quickly close down the tavern. Diluc is a gentleman after all, and it'd be rude to keep you waiting.

[hearts4renaa]

AIN'T GOTTA TELL ME.

summary: things that the ‘95 line do that show how much they love you. gender neutral reader contains: drabbles for each member, pure fluff, established relationship a/n: i listened to "i think he knows" by taylor swift while writing. my first svt work! pls enjoyyy <3 and yes, i will get to the other members!

S.COUPS/CHOI SEUNGCHEOL | seungcheol has his eyes on you at all times, in a lovestruck daze.

“-ungcheol? seungcheol?” a hand waving in his face snaps cheol out of his daze. he blinks for a few moments before looking at who was asking for his attention. his eyes make it’s way to jeonghan, who’s leaning against his hand with a smirk. “seems like someone’s got your attention.” he teases.

he shakes his head, brushing off his comment. “oh, be quiet.” and suddenly, he finds his eyes drawing to you once again. you were striking up a conversation at the kitchen counter with dino, sipping on a glass of water. his chest feels all warm, seeing how you interact with the boys. nothing makes him happier than seeing all his loved ones get along. he feels the corner of his mouth perk up ever so slightly at sight of your animated conversing. then, all the chatter of his bandmates began to fade out, until there was only you. he had never seen anything more beautiful.

jeonghan laughs next to him. “you’re so obvious.”

seungcheol rolls his eyes, but deep down, he feels a fuzzy feeling start to build up.

YOON JEONGHAN | jeonghan drinks your shots for you.

“aeeey! y/n!” soonyoung’s voice is giggly, already drunk and long gone. the 14 of you were playing numerous drinking games, and with each loss, everyone slowly got drunker. obviously, soonyoung wasn’t too skilled in these games. unfortunately, you were the victim this time. “drink! drink! drink!” mingyu and dokyeom chanted playfully, with seungcheol already starting to pour a shot for you.

you laugh and shake your head. “nope, can’t drink more today.” they collectively groan, but you know they’re not serious. “sorry, boys.”

“aiii, come on!” seungkwan complains lightheartedly.

jeonghan extends his arm forward. “give it here, i’ll drink it.” his hand beckons the alcohol to him.

you turn to him. “you sure, hannie? you don’t have to.”

“mmm,” he mumbles before downing the alcohol. “it’s for you.” he smiles. you smile back and kiss him on nose.

seungkwan whines out loud. “hey, where was that energy before soonyoung got wasted?!?”

HONG JISOO/JOSHUA | joshua brings little gifts for your parents when he visits.

“oh joshua, aren’t you the sweetest?” your mom coos, admiring the bouquet of flowers he brought for her. she turns the vase around delicately, smiling at the arrangement. joshua smiles pridefully from beside you. “how did you know i liked carnations?” she asks him.

“ah,” he starts, flashing his award winning smile. “you mentioned them last time we were over for dinner.” he explained.

this only makes your mother beam even more. “oh joshua, you are such a gentleman!”

“i brought this for you too,” joshua turns to your father next. he hands him a bottle of leather cleaner, along with a brush. “i’ve always seen you with leather shoes. i figured you might appreciate this.”

your dad smiles too. “thanks, sport.”

“now come on, let’s go eat!” your mom exclaims. your parents head to the dining room.

he looks back to meet eyes with you, and you could feel how much love he has for you. “thank you.” you whisper. he kisses you on the forehead before speaking. “now, shall we join them?”

[nicnak20]

Actions speak louder; Charlie Mayhew:

*Yn is the head doctor of the hospital, who no one respects. One mistake changes it all for the shallow doctor.*

The click of Yn’s Louboutin heels echoed down the sterile hospital corridor, a sharp, decisive sound that announced her arrival long before her silhouette appeared. Head of Surgery. The title itself seemed to hum with the same potent energy that radiated from her. Her signature red lipstick, a slash of defiant color against her immaculate, often severe, professional attire, was as much a part of her uniform as her stethoscope. It wasn't just makeup; it was war paint, a visible declaration of success, power, and an impenetrable barrier.

The whispers started the moment she was out of earshot. Or sometimes, emboldened by distance or sheer resentment, they didn’t even wait that long, just faded into indistinct mutters as she passed. “There she goes, Queen Bitch,” someone would sigh, rolling their eyes. “Thinks she owns the place.” “Probably stepped on half a dozen people to get there.” They hated her, or at least, they intensely disliked and distrusted her. Her manner was often abrupt, her expectations impossibly high, her feedback delivered with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel, cutting deep.

She rarely smiled, never lingered for casual chat, and seemed to view any deviation from protocol as a personal affront. The staff whispered behind cupped hands about her coldness, her arrogance, the way she treated everyone like they were beneath her. Yn knew they talked. She always knew. And she acted like she didn’t care, pulling her shoulders back, lifting her chin higher, the red lipstick a bold, unblinking stare against their judgment.

Her life, from the outside, was a masterpiece of curated perfection. The prestigious job, the expensive clothes, the elegant, if rarely discussed, husband, Danny. She posted carefully selected photos online – professional achievements, glimpses of a tasteful home, never anything too personal, just enough to project an image of effortless control and success. The reality was a crumbling facade.

Her marriage to Danny was a hollow echo in a spacious house. They coexisted, polite strangers sharing a surname, the warmth long since leached out of their interactions, replaced by a weary, unspoken tension. And beneath the perfectly smooth surface, the polished exterior, was a tremor of something else entirely: a deep-seated, insidious need for alcohol. It had been a quiet companion for years, a way to unwind, to dull the edges of the day. Lately, it was becoming less a companion and more a master.

Amidst the swirling resentment and the forced smiles of the hospital staff, Dr. Charlie Mayhew was an anomaly. He was everything Yn was not, or at least, everything she refused to show. Kind, genuinely warm, patient with both patients and colleagues, his brown eyes held a rare understanding that drew people in. He was competent, professional, firm when needed, but always fair.

He possessed a quiet charm, a grounded presence that made him universally liked. Yn noticed him, of course. She noticed competence and confidence. She interacted with him professionally; her usual crisp efficiency softened infinitesimally by his easygoing nature. He was one of the few people whose gaze she could meet without feeling the usual prickle of antagonism.

The night it happened was a blur of stress, failure in the operating room that gnawed at her, and too many drinks at a dim, anonymous bar miles from her usual haunts. The alcohol was a fire in her veins, burning away the controlled layers she wore daily. She couldn’t recall exactly how she ended up talking to Charlie, if she’d even planned it, or if he just happened to be there, a familiar, safe face in the swirling chaos of her intoxicated mind.

The details were hazy, shrouded in a shame she would only fully confront later. She remembered the confined space of his car, the smell of worn leather, the desperate, clumsy contact. It was fueled by loneliness, by despair, by a desperate need for connection that the alcohol had twisted into something raw and regrettable.

She got home late, the world spinning. Danny was awake. He saw her, the state she was in, smelled the alcohol and the faint, unfamiliar scent that clung to her. The dam of their stagnant marriage broke. Whether she confessed, or he simply knew with the chilling certainty of a long-suffering spouse, didn't matter. The words he spoke were quiet, devoid of anger, but devastating in their finality. "I want a divorce, Yn."

The ground beneath her feet gave way. The carefully constructed world shattered. Work became a battlefield where she had to pretend everything was fine while her life imploded. She saw Charlie in the corridor a few days later. The memory of that night, the divorce, the crushing weight of her failures, converged. Panic flared. Fix it. Bury it. Pretend it didn't happen.

She pulled him aside, her voice low and urgent, devoid of the vulnerability she’d shown in his car. "Listen, Charlie," she said, forcing a casual tone that felt like ash in her mouth. "That night... it was a mistake. A big one. Pretend it didn't happen, okay? Just... forget about it."

Charlie’s warm brown eyes, usually so full of kindness, went cold. The charm evaporated instantly, replaced by a hard, wounded anger she had never seen from him. He took a step closer, his voice a low, furious rumble that only she could hear. "A mistake? Is that all it was to you?" He scoffed, a harsh, bitter sound. "You know what everyone says about you, Yn? They say you're heartless. A user. That you step on anyone to get ahead. That you think you're better than all of us." His words were delivered with a precision that mirrored her own, each one a tiny, painful cut. "And you know what? Maybe they're right. Maybe you are that person. Because right now? I think they're right. And I... I hate you."

He turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, the corridor suddenly feeling vast and empty. His words landed like physical blows, shattering the last remnants of her composure. They echoed everything she feared was true, everything she’d built her walls to protect herself from hearing. The mask didn't feel like protection anymore; it felt like a prison.

The days that followed were a descent into darkness. She didn't go to work. She called in sick, then just stopped calling. The carefully maintained facade crumbled completely. The polished apartment became a shrine to her unraveling. The alcohol didn't just dull the edges anymore; it was her only companion, her only escape. She drank from the moment she woke up, chasing oblivion, trying to silence the voices – Charlie’s words, Danny’s quiet finality, the staff’s imagined whispers, her own relentless self-condemnation.

The world outside narrowed to the four walls of her apartment, the dull ache in her head, the ever-present tremor in her hands. Food was an afterthought, sleep a fitful, nightmare-ridden struggle when the alcohol finally forced unconsciousness. The red lipstick lay abandoned on the dresser, a relic from another life. The Louboutins sat gathering dust by the door, no longer symbols of success, just expensive, unused shoes.

One afternoon, in a brief, terrifying moment of clarity that pierced through the alcoholic haze, she saw her reflection in the mirror. She didn't recognize the pale, gaunt woman staring back, her eyes hollow, her hair dishevelled. It was too much to bear. The pain, the isolation, the crushing weight of her perceived worthlessness – it felt insurmountable. There was nowhere left to go, nothing left to lose. Except the pain itself.

Shaking, her fingers fumbling, she found a pen and paper. Only one person came to mind, the only one who had seen a flicker of something beneath the surface, the one who had been hurt by her, the one whose words had perhaps, paradoxically, triggered this final spiral. Charlie.

The letter was messy, stained with tears and the trembling of her hands. It wasn't eloquent or carefully composed like her professional reports. It was raw, fragmented, a desperate outpouring of a broken soul. She wrote about the drinking, the secret that had consumed her. She wrote about Danny, the failure of their marriage, the loneliness that had festered for years.

She wrote about the night in his car, admitting, in halting, almost unbelievable words, that it hadn't just been a mistake fueled by alcohol, that there was something about him, Charlie, that had drawn her in, a connection she hadn't dared to acknowledge, a forbidden warmth she had instantly tried to extinguish.

She wrote of the shame and regret, but also, buried deep, a confession of love, a desperate, hopeless admission that he was the only person who had ever made her feel anything close to human in years, and now she had destroyed even that. Finally, she wrote that she couldn’t do it anymore, that she was tired, and this was the only way out.

She sealed the envelope, addressed it simply: Dr. Charlie Mayhew. It was the last thing she did before reaching for the pills she had hoarded, the alcohol her courage.

Charlie received the letter the next morning. It was tucked into his hospital mailbox. Seeing Yn's name on the envelope after days of her unexplained absence sent a jolt of unease through him. He opened it casually, assuming it was some administrative matter she’d sent over.

As he read, his blood ran cold. The messy handwriting, the desperate tone, the confessions – addiction, divorce, that wretched night in his car re-framed not as a cold dismissal but a cry for help she immediately regretted. And then, the gut-wrenching words, stark and unambiguous, about ending her life. His anger from their last conversation evaporated, replaced by a sickening wave of dread and fear. He looked at the postmark – mailed yesterday. How long?

He fumbled for his phone, dialing her number with shaking fingers. No answer. He redialed. Still no answer. Panic clawed at his throat. He knew her address. He had to go. Now.

He raced out of the hospital, adrenaline pumping. He sped through traffic, his mind a whirlwind of fear. He pictured her alone, in trouble. He thought of her fierce independence, her hidden vulnerability now laid bare in the letter. He thought of his own harsh words, the ones he now regretted with every fiber of his being. He hadn't hated her. He had been hurt, angry, yes, but not hated. He just hadn't understood.

He pulled up to her building, slammed the car door shut, and ran inside, praying he wasn't too late. He banged on her apartment door, shouting her name. Silence. He tried the handle. Locked. Desperation mounting, he called building security, explaining the emergency. They fumbled with keys, the seconds stretching into an eternity.

When they finally got the door open, the sight that greeted him was horrifying. The apartment was a mess, bottles everywhere. And Yn was on the floor, pale and still, a half-empty glass beside her, an empty pill bottle nearby. His heart plummeted.

With practiced hands, born of countless medical emergencies, he checked for a pulse, for breath. It was faint, alarmingly slow. Not gone. Not yet.

"Call 911!" he yelled to the bewildered security guard, his voice cracking. "Now!"

He knelt by her side, clearing her airway, doing what he could until help arrived. He talked to her, his voice low and urgent, pleading with her to hold on. "Yn? Come on, fight! Stay with me! You're not alone!"

The sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer. Paramedics arrived, a flurry of controlled chaos. They worked swiftly, stabilizing her, intubating her, connecting monitors. As they lifted her onto the gurney, Charlie saw her face, so different from the composed mask she usually wore. Vulnerable. Fragile. He grabbed the letter that had fallen nearby, clutching it.

They loaded her into the ambulance. "Which hospital?" the paramedic asked.

Charlie didn't hesitate. "County General," he said, the words feeling heavy in his mouth. "Take her to County General." His hospital. Her hospital.

The news spread through the hospital like wildfire. The Head of Surgery. Found unresponsive in her apartment. Overdose suspected. Being brought in.

The staff who had whispered and complained, who had resented her authority and judged her cold demeanor, watched in stunned silence as the ambulance pulled up, its lights flashing. They saw the gurney being wheeled through the emergency room doors, surrounded by paramedics and trauma nurses. And on that gurney was Yn.

She was a ghost of the woman they knew. Her face was ashen, devoid of the familiar red lipstick. Her hair was disheveled, not slicked back perfectly. She was hooked up to tubes and machines, her chest rising and falling mechanically, precariously. She looked small, frail, utterly vulnerable.

As they rushed her towards the ICU, a hush fell over the usually bustling corridors. Nurses stopped charting, doctors paused mid-conversation. They looked at her, truly looked at her, stripped bare of her power suit and her defiant persona. They saw the woman they had openly disliked, the one they had talked about with such venom and judgment, lying there, clinging to life by a thread.

Charlie was there, his face etched with worry and exhaustion, following the gurney, one of the doctors giving orders, his usual gentle demeanor replaced by a grim determination. He looked at the staff watching, their faces a mixture of shock, confusion, and something else.

Guilt.

It hit them with the force of a physical blow. Seeing her like this, so close to death, seeing the raw reality of her struggle, made their petty complaints and harsh judgments seem monstrous. They had seen the facade, the one she had so desperately maintained, and they had judged her for it, adding their voices to the chorus of pressure that had perhaps, in part, driven her to this point.

They had hated the seemingly invincible leader, the one who never showed weakness. Now they saw the deeply wounded person, the one who had been fighting a battle they knew nothing about, alone.

A miracle, the doctors later said. She had survived. The amount of alcohol, the combination of pills – it should have been fatal. But somehow, she had clung to life, a tiny flicker refusing to be extinguished.

As Yn lay in the sterile quiet of the ICU, machines beeping softly around her, a different kind of silence settled over the hospital floors. The whispers weren't gone entirely, but their tone had changed.

There was less judgment, more quiet reflection. They had seen the cost of their words, the potential impact of their resentment on a person they had dehumanized. The cold, bitchy head doctor? She was a human being, flawed and suffering, just like everyone else.

Charlie sat by her bedside when he could, holding her hand, reading the letter over and over. He understood now. The layers of pain, the desperate need for control, the crippling fear of failure and judgment.

He didn't know what the future held for Yn, for him, for their relationship, but the anger was gone, replaced by a profound sadness and a quiet, steadfast hope. He hoped she would recover. He hoped she would find help for her addictions. He hoped, perhaps selfishly, that the flicker of connection she had confessed to feeling for him could one day be acknowledged, explored.

Yn’s journey back would be long and arduous. But as she lay there, slowly recovering, unaware of the ripple affect her crisis had caused, the hospital staff looked at her with new eyes.

They saw the red lipstick and the Louboutin's not just as symbols of ambition, but maybe, just maybe, as a shield. And for the first time, some of them felt not hate, but a flicker of empathy. The woman they had loved to hate had become a stark, undeniable reminder of the hidden battles everyone might be fighting, and the quiet, devastating power of their own words.

[roses-for-readers]

Devoted Mate ~ Tsu'tey x Reader

Warnings: ⚠️THIS FIC DOES CONTAIN SMUT. IF YOU ARE NOT OF AGE PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT⚠️ piv sex, oral sex (m receiving) mild biting , porn with plot

Synopsis: It's finally Mating time bitches. Probably will be the last addition to this specific fic of mine

Masterlist

It had been a month since the incident that had lead to my courtship with Tsu'tey. I had recovered fairly well with only the occasional pain here and there. Even Mo'at said that in the next day or two the pain should completely fade away.

Currently, Tsu'tey and I were sitting with Jake and Neytiri at the clan's dinner. Making small conversation about our recent activities of the past few days.

"So, have you two been doing well? Nothing that's happened to make you to change your minds about being together?" Jake asks after a small lull in our conversations.

I let out a sigh as I look over at Jake, annoyance and embarrassment playing on my face. "Jake, can you please stop bringing that up?"

He smiles a little as he takes another bite of food. Chewing slowly as he playfully shrugged his shoulders. "What? I'm just curious about how the soon-to-be mated couple is doing. Trouble in paradise already?"

Tsu'tey looked confused by the human phrase that Jake used. I gave him a reassuring smile as I placed my hand on Tsu'tey's cheek. "Ignore him. Everything is fine between us." He smiles in return as he put his hand on my shoulder, glancing down at the necklace that I hadn't taken off since I got it.

Jake let out a small laugh at our displays of affection. Putting his arm around Neytiri with a teasing grin. "Be honest with me. When you meet us, did you ever think Tsu'tey would ever show that kind of affection towards someone who was human?"

Tsu'tey sends Jake a small glare when he makes the comment. But his expression softened as I lightly nuzzled my nose against his cheek. "Ignore him. He's just trying to rile you up."

Tsu'tey mumbled something under his breath, but I didn't quite catch it. What I could understand was him say he would get Jake back later in some way. That brought a smile to my face as it showed that they were definitely getting along.

"It is getting late. We must be leaving now," Neytiri suddenly speaks up as she starts to stand. Taking hold of Jake's arm as she tried to get him to follow.

Jake looks at her confused as he slowly stands up. Glancing between his mate and us. "It's barely even an hour past sundown."

Neytiri shushes him as she gives us a smile. Even shooting Tsu'tey a knowing look before waving goodbye. Jake awkwardly did the same before following after her.

"What was that look that Neytiri gave you?" I ask as I look back at Tsu'tey with a small tilt of my head. But he only ignored me as he stood up and took my hand in his.

"There is a place I would like to take you." That was the only response I got from him as he helped me to my feet. I continued to look at him confused as he began to lead us into the forest to whatever place he had in mind. "A place I know you will love."

I smile a little as I follow behind him. Taking in the sight of the night life that was around us and the boiluminescent plants that lit up the path we were taking.

My mouth dropped open in awe as we came up to a small river. There were multiple flowers and other plants that were hanging in the trees nearby and on the river bank. The soft trickling of the water was like a soft melody to the otherwise quiet night.

"Tsu'tey," I mumble as I walk forward a few steps. Keeping ahold of his hand as I slowly take it all in. Finally looking back at him after a short time with a grin on my face. "It's beautiful here."

He smiled as he reached his free hand out to rest on my hip. Slowly pulling me closer as he placed his head against mine. "I thought you would enjoy it here. I want this to be a place you will always cherish in your memories of us."

I give a soft hum as I press closer to him with my hands resting on his shoulders. Leaving almost no space between our bodies as I looked deep into his eyes. Realizing that this is the spot where he wished for us to become mated before the eyes of Eywa.

"I cherish every moment with you. No matter where we find ourselves," I whisper as I slowly lean closer to him. Softly closing my eyes as we meet each other for a gentle kiss.

It lasts for a few moments before we both pull away for air. A small laugh passed my lips as I open my eyes to see him staring at look of what I could only describe as pure awe. I keep looking into his eyes as I trail my hands down his chest as I begin to sink to my knees.

"What are you doing?" Tsu'tey quickly asks as his eyes go wide. My own brows furrow in confusion at the fact he seemed so hesitant from my actions.

My expression soon relaxes as I realize that was simply a difference in our species. Resting my knees comfortably on the ground, I give him a reassuring smile as I rub his thighs. "It's a human thing that we do sometimes when getting intimate. I want to do it to show how much I appreciated you taking such good care of me. But I promise you will enjoy it very much. And if you want me to stop, just tell me and I will. Okay?"

It takes a few moments, but Tsu'tey finally gives a small nod. I smile up at him as I carefully trace my fingers along his skin until I get to the knot that held his loincloth together. Lightly pulling it loose until the fabric falls off of his hips. Gasping just slightly at the size of him in his natural state.

Glancing up at him, I give him a smile before leaning forward to press a soft kiss on his member. Tsu'tey let's out a startled grunt as he places his hand on the back of my head. But I can tell that he enjoyed it because his member twitched as he began to get hard.

"You doing okay?" I teasingly ask as grab hold of him. Lightly stroking as I place another soft kiss on the tip.

His face scrunched up as I did so, which also caused him to lace his fingers in my hair. "What is the purpose of this?" He managed to get out the words through clenched teeth. Trying to appear as if he wasn't that effected by my actions.

"To make you feel good," I casually whisper before taking him part way into my mouth. Going down just enough for him to touch the back of my throat a few times before pulling away completely. "Does it feel good to you?"

The flustered look on his face along with his slight heaving was enough of an answer for me to know that he was enjoying himself. But he gave a small scowl as he looked down at me. His voice just the smallest bit breathless when he spoke, "Your people's ways seem pointless."

"You can tell me to stop at any time," I point out to him with a grin. Sticking my tongue out as I lick his head. Getting the smallest amount of cum as I keep jerking him off slowly with my hand. I place another kiss to the tip before pulling back to give him a knowing look. "If you really think it's so pointless."

Instead of saying words, Tsu'tey pushed my head back towards his crotch. I giggled softly before opening my mouth again and taking him back in. Bobbing my head to take a little more of him each time with a soft hum. He gave a small grunt at the sensation as he pushed my head down just slightly to take him further in. Smiling around him as I place my hands on his thighs in order to keep myself balanced.

Taking in a deep breath through my nose, I relax my jaw and lean forward as much as I can. Stopping only when his tip grazed the very back of my throat. But that seemed to be just enough for him with the groan that reached my ears. A soft moan tried to make its way out of my throat as he came down my throat.

Once I was sure he was done, I slowly pulled back with a small gasp. Smiling up at him while I swallow quickly as I wipe my chin. Taking hold of his hand as he carefully kneels down to be level with me.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" I teasingly ask rest my head on his shoulder. Grazing my nose against his neck as I do so.

He let's out a soft grunt as he began rubbing my arms. Taking a moment to catch his breath before he finally said, "I still don't understand the whole point of it."

"So you wouldn't mind if this was the only time I ever did that to you?"

"I did not say that." I laugh softly at the slightly offended tone he used. Pulling back to look into his eyes as we continue holding onto one another. Both of us slowly leaning in to share a passionate kiss.

After a short time, we both pull away to catch our breath. Only taking a moment before Tsu'tey reaches back to bring his queue to present to me. My heart starts to pound in my chest as I realize that this was the moment that would change both of our lives.

With deep breath, I carefully pulled mine in front of my body. Keeping a small distance between the two as I looked back into his eyes. Moving my free hand to his shoulder with a small nod. Both of us bringing our queues closer until the tendrils intertwine as we made tsaheylu.

My breath caught in my throat at the sudden rush of new emotions and sensations. My hand trailing down to rest over Tsu'tey's heart, feeling like it was beating in both his chest and mine. Barely registering the feeling of his fingers undoing the knot of my own loincloth through the haze. His hands carefully guiding me to lay down on a soft spot in the ground.

Tsu'tey placed soft kisses along my collarbone and up my throat. Bringing me into a slow kiss as he wrapped his arm around my waist to hold me closer. Only pulling back when I lightly pushed against his chest so I could catch my breath.

"Are you sure you are alright to fully bond tonight?" He asked in a whisper before resting his forehead against mine. Worry evident in his eyes as he tries to see if there were any second thoughts. "We could do it another night if you would prefer."

I grin at his concern of making sure I was actually ready to become fully bonded with him. Grabbing his waist, I press up against him in response to his worries. Sighing at the small bit of friction of his cock rubbing against my clit.

"I am more ready than I have ever been since I came here," I whisper to as I carefully shift my hips until Tsu'tey rests directly at my entrance. Calming my breathing as I focus on him in the moment. "Oel ngati kameie, ma muntxatan."

I feel his heartbeat increase slightly when I say that. His grip becoming more firm as he let's out a mix between a sigh and a groan. Tsu'tey finally pressed himself close to me as he slowly pushed inside. "Oel ngati kameie, ma muntxate."

I hum softly at the feeling of Tsu'tey gently inched his way inside of me. My nails lightly scratching his skin at the stretch. Tsu'tey gave a small grunt as he pushed his hips flush against mine. Both of us taking a moment to catch our breath.

We stare at one another for a few seconds before Tsu'tey slowly begins to move. His thrusts start off shallow, but still hitting just the right spots to cause tingles to go down my spine. He becomes more confident over time, reaching deeper with each roll of his hips. Though he remains loving and sensual with each movement that he was making.

Soft moans pass my lip each time his pelvis pressed up against mine. Also sending soft sensations as he coincidentally rubbed against my clit as well. Causing me to clinch around him as I push back to meet his thrusts.

Tsu'tey let's out a groan before pressing his body down against mine. The weight of him causes a pleasurable hold as my back begins to scrap against small rocks hidden in the dirt. I arch my back slightly at the feels as I slowly got closer to my climax.

Tsu'tey picks up his speed slightly when my walls begin to contract around him more often. I wrapped my arms around his neck as I tried to hold back as long as my body would let me.

Tsu'tey rests his head in the crook of my neck as he begins to pant softly. Thrusts becoming more frantic until he finally stops as he bites down on my neck. Sending me to my own orgasm while he lightly grinds against me as he calms down from his own.

We both lay there to calm down in the afterglow of what we had done. My hand resting on the back of his head while he places a soft kiss over the the spot he bit. Eventually rolling over to lay on his side, but still keeping one arm wrapped around my waist.

I turn my head to look at him, giving him an exhausted smile as my eyes begin drooping. "I love you, Tsu'tey."

He chuckled softly before placing a gentle kiss to my forehead. Holding me close to him to attempt to make me more comfortable. "I love you as well, (Y/n). Sleep well, yawne."