#I don't usually do AUs but felt like it this time

[zinflo]

YOU PLAY TOO MUCH ⚅ 🀟

FEATURING ᯓ★ Seishiro Nagi x f!reader

SYNOPSIS ᯓ★ As usual, Nagi's attention is on his game rather than you and it's meant to be bonding time. But the mention of going 'a couple rounds' with you in bed catches you off guard...

CONTENT ᯓ★ 18+ (minors DNI) College AU! Boyfriend! Nagi, Reo Mikage feature (not part of the main plot), dry humping, unprotected sex, praising, spit kink/mention of spit? Masturbation, creampie, choking, nipple play, petnames (angel + good girl), spanking, cowgirl position, doggy position/backshots

Wc ᯓ★ 2.9k

‘Typical’.

You thought to yourself as you sat on the edge of the bed and watched your boyfriend, Nagi, play his usual games on his phone. With the raindrops from outside crashing down on the windows and the wind howling through the trees, it clarified why you and Nagi were inside his dorm room rather than going out for the evening together, following a day of separate classes.

But the weather wasn't what annoyed you. What really annoyed you was that every time you were with Nagi, he always seemed to be focused on his phone and playing games all the damn time—and today is no exception.

His facial expression was now focused and serious, lying flat on the bed as he tapped away on his phone, playing one of his games as usual. You finally had enough and wanted to give him a piece of your mind.

"Nagi! What was the point of coming to your dorm if you're just going to be playing your damn-."

Your nagging words that were shot at him were abruptly interrupted as he pulled you closer. You were once sitting on the edge of the bed, now straddling his lap, with your legs on either side of him.

"Hold on, I'm going to play one more round. Then... I'll play a couple rounds with you, in bed." He responded with a deadpan expression on his face before resuming back to his game.

You were too stunned to speak, a pink shade dusting over your cheeks as your face became warm.

For a quick second, Nagi's eyes averted from the screen of his game to you. He took note of your instant blushing after his remark and chuckled softly, one hand of his now gently gripping your hip while his other continued taking control of his game.

"You know when I'm playin' games, you don't need to whine so much, I can still pay attention to you." He said nonchalantly before returning his gaze to the game in his hand, his other that was placed on your hip also returned to the game.

You might've been slightly flustered by his words and actions towards you but that still wasn't enough. You needed more and his attention was what you needed.

And that's when you began to slowly but steadily grind on his manhood that was protected by the fabric of his grey oversized joggers. You noticed now that he was becoming distracted as he kept stealing glances at you as he was playing his game.

"When you sit on my lap like this, don't you know how much I want to just take you right now-" He paused in his sentence as he felt your soft hands lay flat on his lean muscular chest and continued to grind on him.

You could feel his bulge rising like a mountain that was extremely hard now, making you moan softly as you could now feel his hardened bulge hitting your core each time you moved your hips. You were going at such an agonisingly slow pace that your panties that were hidden under your skirt were becoming moist.

He let out a low moan, now finally coming to the realisation that he couldn't keep focusing on his game when you were doing this to him. Nagi placed his phone on his side and wrapped his arms around you, his hands resting on your hips as he lay there on the bed.

"If you keep on doin' that, I won't be able to continue the game." 

"Well, maybe I want you to stop playing your game~." You replied in a breathy whisper, leaning closer to him until your face was a few centimetres from his.

"... You've got my attention."

You resumed back to moving your hips against his lap but this time you went at a quicker pace, showing him just how badly you needed him. Meanwhile, Nagi tugged on the fabric of his hoodie until it was discarded into the unknown, revealing his lean muscular build that you admired so much.

The sight of his now growing and hardened bulge was almost making you salivate. Without hesitation, you slightly slipped down his grey joggers along with his boxers and his tall manhood came to life.

You were about to adjust yourself so you could lean down to give him a blowjob but that was when he stopped you by raising his hand to grab your chin so your gaze was on him.

"Just spit on my hand. I love your blow jobs but fuck, that's a hassle right now. I can't wait any longer—I need you now."

His words trailed off his lips in a husky and possessive tone that sent shivers down your spine. You obeyed and when he let go of your chin and lifted his hand open, a string of saliva fell from your lips and plopped down on the palm of his hand.

He smirked at your actions and began to wrap his calloused hand around his shaft, pumping up and down at a fast pace as he was getting more turned on by the second.

"Such a good girl for me, huh~?" Nagi grunted out in a husky tone as his eyes were clouded with lust and desire. The sight of him pleasuring himself with his grey half-lidded eyes fixed on you made you even more aroused.

In a swift motion, you slipped off your black panties and t-shirt, throwing them to the other side of the bedroom as your skirt and bra remained on. Nagi's dick was now coated with your slick saliva by the time he was done pumping himself. And without warning, he tightly gripped onto your hips and lifted you before penetrating your wet pussy down on his large dick.

"F-Fuck, N-Nagi~!" You moaned out loud, a mixture of shock and pleasure overwhelming your body since he caught you off guard. As you went further down, your pussy tightly surrounded his throbbing shaft.

"Mmm, my bad, angel~." He groaned out huskily as he began to move his hips upwards, his dick pounding up into you from below. "I just couldn't help myself~."

A shiver trickled down your spine, loving the nickname he gave you which caused your cheeks to become warm. But as he pushed his length into your cunt further and began to fasten his pace with his thrusts, you were nothing but a moaning and panting mess.

Loud moans and gasps escaped your lips as he pounded into your sensitive cunt nonstop, taking you to the edge of ecstasy. You began to match his pace by bouncing on his dick, a wave of pleasure hitting you each time you went up and down his cock.

His movements became more urgent and intense, digging his nails into your hips tightly to steady his harsh thrusting. However, with one of his hands, he reached behind your bra strap and unclasped it, tugging it off your shoulders and down your arms to reveal your plush breasts.

"So tight as always, fuck~," Nagi growled out through gritted teeth, a slight smirk plastered on his face as he watched how much of a mess you were becoming.

Your chest was rising and falling nonstop, your crimson-shaded cheeks heating up and the way your coloured orbs disappeared to the back of your head was a sight that made him want to fuck you for hours on end.

He raised his hand from your hip to your bare back, pulling you down towards him as he caught your lips in a hungry yet passionate kiss. His tongue traced over your delicate lips, hinting to slide inside your mouth and your lips became agape.

Nagi smirked against your lips when he felt you obliged and instantly slipped his tongue inside the moist cavern. Soft gasps fell out of your lips as his tongue wrestled with yours, your bouncing became ragged since you were so lost in the heated kiss.

He toys with your perky chest, occasionally fiddling with your firm buds that cause you to gasp out loudly. You were very thankful that Nagi's roommate and best friend, Reo, wasn't home since you could be as loud as you wanted. As loud as Nagi wants.

His thrusting and your bouncing came to a decline as he fixated on your firm buds and how sensitive you got when he toyed with them. Both hands were in unison as they were glued to your plush chests, his index finger and his thumb closing in on your nipples before kneading harshly between them.

"N-Nagi!" You whimpered, shivers running down your spine as your body trembled uncontrollably. "Stop being a tease-".

Your weak protests were cut short when you felt his left hand let go of your breast and raise his hand to connect a sharp spank on your ass, causing you to yelp out.

"I can't help but play with your tits, angel. Just touchin' them makes me wanna fuck you senseless... I know you love it when I nibble on them, huh?"

His moist tongue lapped over his narrow lips before tilting his head forward to your free chest, leaving nothing but soft damp pecks around until he reached your bud. He gently circled it with his tongue, all the while his other hand that was placed on your ass cheek was now gripping ever so harshly as it was hidden perfectly under your black skirt.

You'd be lying if you said that you didn't love it when he sucked your tits because you certainly did. He was skilful when it came to his mouth, always sending you the same waves of pleasure throughout your body with heated kisses, kissing you all over your body and even eating you out. You were addicted just as much as he was.

You could feel his dick twitching inside of you, making you groan softly as you missed the feeling of the harsh thrusts hitting your throbbing pussy. Nagi's ears perked up when a soft groan escaped your lips, his teeth sinking into your nipple and making a 'pop' sound once he pulled away.

"Hm? You're bein’ needy again, angel. You want more, huh?" All you could do was bite your lip and simply nod, grinding your hips into his as your walls took his size well as always.

He resisted the urge to buck his hips up into you and instead smirked slightly at your response. His hand reached up to your neck, his fingers enclosing around it until he firmly gripped it and held it in place. His fingers squeezed tighter around your neck but he made sure to never get to a point where he was cutting off your airflow.

"Get on all fours and stay there all pretty for me while I take care of you." His words fell from his lips so gently yet, they still somehow made your whole body tremble nonstop and your pussy throb excessively around his veiny shaft.

He took note of the way your body reacted to his words and took it upon himself to make the move himself. His hand was released from your neck and his strong arms moved, lifting you off his dick until he flipped you onto your stomach like you weighed nothing. Whines escaped your lips but Nagi was already behind you, those silver eyes of his travelling from your bareback to your black pleated skirt that barely concealed your plump ass.

"Arch for me." He didn't need to tell you twice. Your body moved on its own, pushing your hips back and arching your back—presenting yourself to him. You didn't need to bop your head to the side to know that Nagi was practically ogling at your new position for him to fuck you senseless in.

"Fuck," his firm yet gentle hand traced your spine, sending waves of pleasure through your body until he arrived at the hem of your skirt. "I'm too fuckin' hard for this... shit."

His hand swooped down to grip his twitching cock, positioning himself behind your arched figure as his tip was pressed against your clit before it was pressed at the lining of your folds. Heavy breathing and whimpers were all you could respond to, shutting your eyes tight and gripping the bed sheets for dear life.

"Shhh shhh. Like I said before, just stay there being all pretty while I take care of you... and continue to make up for the attention I didn't give you earlier, hm?"

He wasn't even giving your poor, flustered and heated mind time to process his words, feeling his tip squeezing in between the folds of your pussy until his whole shaft was slowly burying itself inside.

"Mmm-Hmph, N-Nagi!" You hissed out through gritted teeth, your nails gripping tighter onto the sheets than before as the arch of your ass was raised higher, which benefited Nagi more with the fucking he was about to put you in with the angle you were at.

His large hands travelled to your hips the moment his dick found its destination in your throbbing pussy. One hand on your hip and the other on the hem of your skirt for support caused his hips to pull back, the tip remaining inside before he rolled his hips forward, grounding himself in one smooth thrust.

The fullness makes you cry out and arch your back further, your soft ass now bouncing on his pelvis causing Nagi to hiss through gritted teeth and only encouraging him to pound his cock deeper in you.

"Just like that angel," his veiny shaft glides in and out your moist and sensitive folds, the grip on the hem of your skirt caused Nagi's nails to almost leave dents on the fabric as he kept pulling it back so your ass cheeks could meet his groin area every single time. "Keep on just doin' that over and over."

Thwap, thwap, thwap.

Those slick noises from the pounding you in doggy style, along with your sweet cries and the creaking on the dorm mattress —were music to Nagi's ears as his head fell backwards. He tilts his head back to its original place and watches you swallow his cock over and over, his tip twitching with that urge to finally cum.

"Fucks sake, Nagi!" You cry, feeling his dick grow bigger in you as his release was soon coming. "I-I really- fuck! Gonna cum!"

"God, same here angel. Be good for me and just let it out."

And you do, clamping against his cock as your orgasm hits you, white and sticky fluids trickling out of your sensitive hole and down Nagi's cock. He's twitching inside of you and another soft moan escapes from you.

"S-Shit, pull out Nagi-" Too late.

He curses to himself as he forcefully shuts his eyes, white spots splattering beneath his eyelids and cum bullying you up. You whimper softly as he pumps you up with his load, fisting the bedsheets beneath you as your body shakes.

That idiot. Your damn boyfriend had one job and completely fucked up with not pulling out in time.

He finally slips his now soft dick out of you, causing the both of you to groan in harmony as he fell on top of you, his bare chest pressed against your back.

"N-Nagi! You didn't even pull out in-"

"Oh quit your yappin'." His face was inches away from yours and he took the opportunity to tilt your head to the side and catch your lips in a slow, lazy yet affectionate kiss. You wanted to object and push him away but it was too late — he had you wrapped around his finger.

His lips slowly pressed onto yours a couple of times, chests heaving as the both of you are still trying to catch your breaths. God, it's so hard to be annoyed at him when he's such a good kisser.

"I'll head out tomorrow and buy the mornin' after pill for you," he murmured against your lips before leaving another soft peck. "So you don't need to stress about having to birth mini versions of me anytime soon because that would be a damn hassle."

You couldn't help but snort at his comment, playfully rolling your eyes before nodding to his reassurance. You guys were still college students and certainly didn't need to be young parents any time soon. Your body moved to rest your back against the soft mattress as you gazed up at your breathless boyfriend who had his silver eyes glued onto yours like a predator.

"Y'know..." he started, his big hand tracing from your bare chest to your inner thigh, his fingers hooking around the plush of it before squeezing firmly. "It's a good thing that Reo is away and it's just us two. All alone and we can go round for round."

"So loud and so wrong Nagi, loud especially from both you and your little girlfriend."

Eyes shot wide like the moon from both you and Nagi when you heard the familiar voice of Nagi's purple haired best friend, Reo who was smirking widely and snickering from the other side of the door. Your face flushed furiously, causing you to hide your embarrassed state in the crook of Nagi's neck while he wrapped his strong arms around you. He glared at the door that concealed Reo's figure and was already plotting how to get back at him.

[dailynnt]

FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE

⊹ Summary: Jungkook and you, his childhood friend, live together in an apartment, sharing space as roommates. Your relationship, built on years of friendship, is gradually becoming strained by growing sexual tension. You decide to become friends with benefits, trying not to complicate your feelings. But Jungkook's world is not so simple. When you begin to realize that he is hiding something, you open the veil of his double life - a world of mafia, criminal activity, and risk that could ruin not only your deal, but everything you valued in each other.

⊹ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

⊹ Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hoseok.

⊹ 🔞 Age restrictions: 18+

⊹ 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 Relationships: ⚤

⊹ 📘 Number of part: 29/30

⊹ 🖇️ Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character, mafia au, illegal trade, deaths of minor characters, weapons, swear words, scenes of violence, coercion, psychological pressure.

⊹ 👩🏼‍💻 From the author: Hello my beloved armies 💜 I hope you are doing well 😊 I came to you with chapter 29... Um, I would like to officially admit to you that this chapter was the hardest for me to write out of all 29 that I wrote. Maybe 30 will also be difficult to write, but I'm ready for it 🫡 I don't know why, but it's hard for me to evaluate how this part turned out, whether it's worth all the time I spent and yours too, but this is how I see it 💔 Please let me know in the comments your opinion, maybe you don't like something? 🥺 As always, I appreciate and love everyone who reads and loves this story 🫂 You guys are priceless to me 😭💞

⊹ 🫂 Dedication: For you, my love @myjungkookthighs. You are my favorite person 😘🥰 You know that I appreciate you so much and LOVE you🥰💜

⊹ ⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

⊹ 📋Tag list: @myjungkookthighs, @notsevenwithyou, @nikkinikj, @lovelyyylunaa222, @jiminiemanura, @jalexad, @kelsyx33, @bhonbhon, @unholyforjk, @ambiee3, @mianhae-baozi , @someoneelse0109, @medstudentlifestyle, @mskookie, @kooccult, @smokinghotstargirl , @curse-of-art, @curse-of-art2 @wintaemoonjen, @jungkookswifeeeeeee, @someonegoood, @kooko007, @indigomoonchild09, @zeytiable (If anyone wants to be in my tag list let me know)

≣ Chapter Index ↓

Part 29. Saved. 

Jungkook was not himself. He stood on the terrace of the top floor and nervously lit a cigarette. He inhaled the smoke and felt a little relieved. He had to go to Namjoon and his time was running out, but he needed to smoke at least one cigarette to put his broken feelings in order. He literally took puff after puff thinking about what happened and what he should do next.

Jungkook squeezed the cigarette with his fingers, finishing it all the way to the filter. His head was heavy with thoughts, and his heart was beating faster than usual. He replayed in his mind how he saw you in Namjoon's office. It threw him off balance. Angry, he later yelled at you in Jimin's office and sent you home because you had already done so much that you weren't supposed to. You did your part, even though he asked you to stay out of it, and that was the most annoying thing.

You always did everything for him. Even now, when you were pregnant, exhausted, ready to risk your life to get him out of this hell. You played spy games to get him out of the mafia world. You were threatened, but you did it anyway to find out important information and came to Namjoon to exchange it for his freedom.

He never wanted you to get involved in this shit. You were supposed to live a quiet life, not knowing what it means to trade information for survival.

Jungkook rubbed his palm over his face, exhaling the remaining smoke. He knew you wanted a different life for you. A life without blood, without blackmail, without threats. But how? How can he get out?

Once, at the beginning of all this, he wanted to escape. He fought. He tried not to get his hands dirty with what Namjoon made him do. But then he got used to it. And maybe he even started to like it. The power, the influence, the fear he saw in the eyes of others when he walked into a room... All these things made him who he was. And he was no longer sure if he wanted to leave it. So he was in no hurry to take any radical steps. And damn it, you noticed that, and that's why you're in Namjoon's office today. To beg for him.

Fuck...

Before all this, there was this bullshit about selling weapons to the Black Pearl. It's definitely Doohoon's handiwork. Jungkook knows that he did some business with Black Pearl's Sehun, so he definitely helped Doohoon pull it off.

Thanks to their actions, he was suspected of betrayed. Of offshore fraud, of a meeting that was actually trap. He flicked his lighter irritably, though he had no cigarette. He needed to get out of this somehow, to prove that he hadn't betrayed Namjoon.

Jungkook sighed heavily and turned to leave. But as soon as he stepped into the hallway, he saw Jimin. He looked worried.

"Jungkook-ah, I've been looking for you..." - He stopped a few steps away and looked closely at his friend's face. "Are you okay? Did Y/N leave already?" - Jungkook was silent. He didn't want to talk about your fight right now. But he had to say something, so he gathered all his will into a fist and said.

"I screwed up..." - Jungkook says tiredly, hinting at what you had fought about, and that he was set up and looks like a traitor to Namjoon. "And yes, she's already gone." - Jimin frowns. He realizes that something is going on. "Why were you looking for me?" - Jungkook asks because Jimin is lost in thought.

"Namjoon is calling us all together. He asked for everyone to be in the company this morning. And now we've been told that we're all supposed to come to his office. That's why I went looking for you, that we could go together." - Jimin replies. Jungkook nods his head and walks past Jimin, who immediately follows.

"I was just heading that way." - Jungkook says as Jimin aligns himself with him.

"What's wrong, Jungkook? Why is Y/N at the company today? And why were you two fighting?" - Jimin asks. Jungkook expected him to ask about it.

"Y/N came to get free me of Namjoon's hands." - Jungkook says shortly. He walks down the corridor confidently, taking a wide stride to make sure he makes it within the 20 minutes Namjoon has given him. Jimin walks beside him at the same pace to keep up. But when he hears Jungkook's words, he stops. Jungkook notices that Jimin has disappeared and turns around, finding him a few steps behind him.

"Free you? What does that mean?" - Jimin asks. Jungkook exhale heavily.

"That's what it means. She dug up information that the Black Pearl wants to take over Uranium from us. She came to Namjoon to tell him in exchange for my place in the clan." - Jungkook explains. Jimin widens his eyes, wants to ask something, but Jungkook doesn't let him. He turns around and walks away, throwing over his shoulder. "Come on, Jimin, I can't be late."

Jungkook and Jimin entered Namjoon's office in silence. The atmosphere in the room was tense. Everyone was already in place - Taehyung was sitting with his leg over leg, Yoongi was looking at some documents, and Hoseok was typing something quickly on his phone. Namjoon stood by the table, his arms crossed over his chest, and his gaze was as sharp as a knife blade.

Jungkook walked over to Hoseok and Taehyung and shook their hands, because he hadn't seen them yet. They sat down on the couch with Jimin and waited for someone to break the silence first.

"Is Jin not coming yet?" - Jimin asked to fill the silence, which for some reason seemed heavy, although Namjoon didn't say why he had called them. Everyone present, except Yoongi, who already knew the reason, realized that something serious had happened.

"He'll be later, we can start without him." - Namjoon said tensely and pushed away from the table and moved toward the chair. He sat down, put his hands on the armrests, gently squeezing the material of the chair and looked around at everyone in turn. Everyone present looked at their boss, waiting for an explanation. Only Jungkook was staring intently at the floor, clenching his intertwined fingers. "This morning, as soon as I stepped into my office, I received information that there was a rat in the clan." - Namjoon went on to say. The silence became even heavier. Everyone in the office seemed to be frozen, trying to understand what Namjoon meant.

Jungkook slowly looked up, but did not meet his boss's eyes. He could feel the tension coursing through his entire body, squeezing his lungs and making his heart beat faster. How do you prove you're not a traitor with all this evidence? His head hurt worse.

"A rat?" - Hoseok asked, leaning on the back of the couch. He tilted his head, watching Namjoon, trying to read his expression. "What do you mean?"

Namjoon gave a short hum as if he had heard a completely predictable question. His gaze rested on Yoongi for a moment, as if they had talked about this before, and then he turned back to everyone else.

"I mean, one of us has been transferring money through offshore firms, working behind my back with a man I kicked out of the clan a long time ago."

Jungkook didn't even need to ask who he was addressing. He knew. It was about him.

"Do you have any proof?" - Asked Jimin tensely. Namjoon nodded slowly, pointing to the folder in Yoongi's hands. He threw it on the table and leaned back on the couch.

"Of course there are, Jimin, otherwise I wouldn't have gathered you all here." - Namjoon said a little irritated. Jimin picked up the folder and began to look through its contents. Jungkook didn't even look at the files again, he knew what was in them. Taehyung frowned, rested his elbow on his knee, and intertwined his fingers.

"So who do you suspect?" - He asked without waiting for his turn to look at the evidence files. Jungkook looked up at Namjoon, and the latter he said his name directly into his eyes.

"Jungkook." - His name came out of Namjoon's mouth like a sentence. The room fell dead silent. All eyes were on him. Although he realized the gravity of the situation, he felt that he could handle proving his truth.

Everyone was looking at him-some with suspicion, some with doubt, some with indescribable shock. Jimin closed the folder and looked at his friend. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and his eyes were tense. Hosok took the folder and looked at the contents with Taehyung.

"I want an explanation, Jungkook." - Namjoon demanded. Jungkook sniffled and began to speak.

"I did meet this man, but I swear I don't know that he ever belonged to our clan. He called me when I was in the Suwon, I was waiting for a call about uranium. He said it was about a shipment, so I thought he was talking about uranium. And then he said he had samples and if I had time to meet him to examine them. I found this suspicious because I hadn't received any information about the samples. He started rubbing it in that if I didn't come, his boss would contact you and you would be unhappy. I went and when I arrived, it turned out to be weapons. Japanese weapons of good quality. I asked him where he got my phone, and he mumbled something at first, and then gave me a name. I think it was Takeshi Tanaka..." - Jungkook tells how everything happened that day, not noticing how tense Hoseok was. Jungkook had asked him to find out about this Japanese man, but he forgot to tell him that his people had gotten the information. Because of the whole uranium situation, it just slipped his mind. "I said I didn't know this Japanese guy, I said we didn't need the weapons and left. That was it, I never interacted with this man again. Namjun, I did not betray you. I have no reason to do so." - Jungkook finally finishes his explanation. Yoongi tilts his head and then rests his elbows on his knees, looking at Jungkook closely.

"What do you mean there's no Jungkook-ah? Everyone knows your position in the clan. You're not here of your own free will, and you could easily want to go behind Namjoon's back. Here are the facts: we get evidence of a meeting, a money transfer from our company, and it looks like you want to cooperate with the Black Pearl. And then your girlfriend comes in and tells us that the Black Pearl knows about Uranium, about which knew only seven people, and they want to intercept it. What are we supposed to believe?" - Yoongi asks. Jungkook took a deep breath, trying to control the rage boiling inside him. His fingers clenched into fists so hard that his nails dug into his skin. He turned his gaze to Yungi, who seemed to have already passed his sentence.

"Yes, I'm not here by choice, but isn't it stupid to betray your boss, who already has you in a vice grip? Why should I make my situation even worse? It's not logical." - Jungkook defended himself.

"You said that the man seemed suspicious and insisted that you examine the samples." - Jimin interjected. "Why didn't you call me, why didn't you ask me if this was the case or not?" - Jimin's voice sounded protesting. Jungkook deliberately kept silent, saying that he couldn't reach Jimin and Hoseok at the time because they were resting and simply didn't hear his calls, so he went alone to check what the samples were. Jungkook was silent, weighing whether to tell the truth.

"I called you, but you didn't pick up." - Jungkook said calmly. "I couldn't wait because that man was pressuring me, I couldn't not go because if it was really Uranium we would have gotten our asses handed to us by Namjoon." - Jimin's eyes run over his friend's face and realizes that he hadn't mentioned this moment during the story, but now he said it because he was pressured. Jimin cast a quick glance at Hoseok, and he looked as guilty as he did.

"Why didn't you tell us that you went to Suwon, by the way? Why were you there at that time? The photo said twenty minutes past nine in the evening?" - Taehyung asked, holding the photos in his hands. Jungkook shakes his head and barely holds back an exasperated exhale. He has to admit that he went to his parents' house with you to tell them that you two met, because it's his alibi. But he doesn't want you or his parents to be questioned.

"I went to my parents from Y/N. I had some time and so we decided to visit them. However, I did not know that I had to report to you about my every move. There was no need for that before." - Jungkook says, trying to sound casual but not irritated. Taehyung looked away, his lips pressed into a thin line. Namjoon sighed heavily, running his hand over his face.

"The evidence is well faked if it's not real. I asked Jin to find out everything about this evidence, so we only have to wait for him." - Namjoon said. Everyone was quiet. But not for long, because Jin walked into the clan leader's office. He looked as impeccable as ever, with a lingering smile on his face.

"You're all so miserable. Did someone die?" - He asked as he came inside.

"No one yet, but who knows if anyone will die today, it all depends on what you got." - Yoongi replies in an indifferent voice. Jin let out a short laugh as he sat down at Namdujun's table.

This was not a surprise to anyone. All seven men were very good friends and almost like family. Jin was the oldest, so he could afford to behave like this even with the leader of the Ran Noir clan. On paper, Namjoon is the boss, Yoongi is his right-hand man, and everyone else is subordinate, but in reality they were seven best friends who were very close, almost brothers. Even though Jungkook was with them for four years, he managed to become one of them. He has respect for his older Hyungs, especially Namjoon, even though he resisted him in every way possible at first.

Jin opens his laptop. Everyone looks at him intensely.

"Oh my God, Yoongi, what are you talking about? Inside you’re awakened your bloodlust?" - Jin turns his head to the window, peering out into the dusk. "Is there a full moon tonight or something?" - Yoongi rolled his eyes, and Taehyung and Hoseok laughed softly.

"Jin, that's enough, get to the point." - Namjoon ended his jokes. Jin bit his lip, still smiling, and then folded his hands over his laptop keyboard.

"So the evidence we got on Jungkook is overwhelming." - Jin said. He connected the laptop to the display that hung in Namjoon's office and brought up the images taken in Suwon. “But let's take it from the beginning. Jungkook drove there in his father's car. I checked the license plate, and it's his father's car." - Jin flipped through the photos, and everyone looked at them carefully. "Here's a picture of him getting out of the car, and in the next one they're shaking hands. Then Jungkook and this guy go into the warehouse. And in the last photo, where Jungkook appears, he gets into the car and drives away. The time on the photo is 8:34 pm. That is, their meeting lasted about 15 minutes. And there are no more photos. But I am the best hacker Korea has ever had. So I got the video. The video near the warehouse and also in the middle. By the way, I did a little digging and found out that this warehouse belongs to Doohoon’s father." - Jungkook raised his eyebrows at this, his gaze turned angry. This was the proof that Doohoon was involved. He stared at the monitor as Jin opened the video file, and didn't notice Hoseok fidgeting nervously on the couch.

"Well, here's the video. But there's a caveat, it's without sound, so it doesn't tell us much." - Jin said, pressing the play button. The video starts and Jin comments. "We see Jungkook pull up. He got out and stopped. You can see he doesn't shake hands with Hyuwon right away. Then he's obviously inviting our tongsung to come in and evaluate the goods." - Jin turns off the video and turns on the second file. "Here's a video from the warehouse itself. Jungkook is looking at the weapons in the crates..." - He zooms in on Jungkook's face. "Hey Jungkook-ah, you look confused, not like someone who knows there are weapons in the crates." - Jin turns to Jungkook and winks at him.

Jungkook looks at the older hyung in surprise, as if he knows how to prove his innocence. Jungkook purses his lips and nods in appreciation. He glances around at everyone, and they're all looking at the video carefully. Jin plays the video back as it was and stops it when Jungkook leaves the warehouse. Jin goes to the folder where the video files were and Jungkook notices another file. Another video.

"So what? We don't know what they were talking about." - Namjoon says when Jin turns off the video. He smiled and turned in his chair.

"Did I mention I'm the best hacker in Korea?" - He asks everyone. Yoongi rolls his eyes so that he looks like he's seen his own brain, and Jimin huffs.

"Yes, you did." - He answered for everyone.

"I'm the best because I'm good at getting things that seem inaccessible, and I'm good at hiding things that need to be hidden. I had to find out what they were talking about. The camera does not record sound, but there is a program developed by our native Korean IT specialists that allows you to read words from lips. Guess who has access to it?" - Jin triumphantly opens the third file and text appears next to the video. It's a video of Jungkook and Hyuwon standing in a warehouse. "I'm about to save your ass, Jungkook-ah!" - Jin says jokingly. "You can read the text they're saying on their lips." - Everyone reads the running text carefully.

"Who gave you my contact number again?" - Jungkook's line appears on the screen.

"Takeshi Tanaka, you worked with him. He mentioned you and said you'd be interested." - Everyone reads Hyuwon's response. Hoseok interrupts the silence that was caused by everyone reading.

"Is this the Japanese guy you asked me to find out about?" - He asks Jungkook suddenly. He nods slowly. Everyone else in the room looks at them.

"Yes, about him." - Jungkook says softly. Namjoon turns his gaze to Hoseok.

"Did he ask you to get the information about this Japanese guy?" - He asks tensely.

"Yeah." - Hoseok says, a little guiltily. "I had completely forgotten Jungkook-ah. He called me that evening, probably after he met with this man, and asked me to find information about Takeshi Tanaka. I was at the club at the time. And the next day, I instructed my manager to find something on this man. If Jungkook-ah asks me, I know it's important." - Hoseok says.

"So did you find out anything?" - Jungkook asks, looking at hyung.

"I did find something, but with all the chaos with Uranium, I forgot to tell you." - He admitted. "Tanaka has ties to the Black Pearl, but he's not an arms dealer or anything. He's a drug supplier. We have never dealt with him. So it's obvious that this whole meeting is a setup." - Hoseok concludes. Namjoon exhales a deep breath. He seems to be convinced.

"I told you from the beginning that our golden maknae couldn't have done it." - Jin chimes in. "That's why I checked everything carefully. The money transferred through the offshore account that Jungkook allegedly made was made on the day he was in Suwon. Therefore, he could not physically authorize the payment. This required his personal verification code, which he could only enter from a device connected to our closed network. And that was not possible in Suwon." - Jin explains.

"It's obvious that Jungkook is innocent, judging by their conversation and the fact that someone had access to his device, the code that no more than 10 people know." - Jimin summarizes. "Jungkook was set up well." - Everyone is tensely silent. Namjoon runs his hand over his face and exhales heavily.

"Yeah. Now I see that Jungkook was really set up." - He stands up and walks to the window. He puts his hands in his pockets and stares out at the Seoul night skyline. "So there is a rat after all! And he's working for the Black Pearl!" - He says angrily.

Jungkook stands up and gives a grateful look to Jin and Hoseok, who have essentially proved him innocent.

"Namjoon, I know who set me up…" - Jungkook says confidently. "It's Doohoon, I'm sure of it. I know he's been friends with Sehun for a long time, the Black Pearl's makne. They share a common interest in destroying not only me, but you as well." - Namjoon slowly turned around, his gaze even more intense. The room fell silent, everyone waiting for his reaction.

"It's that little shit again. He still can't stop?" - Namjoon asked.

"Yeah." - Jungkook said. "I think it's all his fault." - Namjoon thinks about what Jungkook said.

"But then who is the rat who told the Black Pearl?" - Taehyung asks.

"It's someone who communicates with us directly. I think it could be our managers." - Jimin suggested. Everyone paid attention to him. Yongi sat up straight and spoke.

"Why don't we use the information that Y/N brought us?" - Yoongi suggested. Jungkook abruptly turned his gaze to his other leader and glared at him.

"What do you mean?" - He asked Yoongi. He looked lazily at Jungkook, explaining his proposal.

"We'll arrange everything as shown in the screenshots that Y/N gave to that journalist, but we'll only change the mode of transportation. In a casual conversation with our managers, we'll say that we had to change the transport because Taehyung reported on inspections from the authorities at the previous location. And then we'll find out which manager could be the rat." - Yoongi finished.

"And how will we know which manager was the rat?" - Taehyung asked. "If everyone knows..."

"Let's get the best hacker in Korea to put a tracer and tap on their personal and work phones." - Namjoon said as he walked over to Jin and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Geez, Namjoon-ah, could you think of anything more boring and unbearable for me than following your managers?" - Jin asked, whimpering. Namjoon slapped him on the shoulder and grabbed his collar, forcing him to stand up.

"Get up from my desk." - Jin stood up grudgingly, grabbing his laptop. "You'll need to keep an eye on Jimin's manager, Hoseok, two of Yoongi's managers, and three of mine. Twenty-four hours a day, checking everywhere you can, I need to know who the traitor is, and when I find out, I'll skin him. They have all forgotten who they are dealing with." - Namjoon said menacingly. Everyone fell silent, and Jin stood next to Jungkook and hugged him like a little brother.

"Well, we have a plan of action." - Jimin summarized, getting up from the couch. "I wanted to suggest that we all go to Muse, we didn’t celebrated Seollal. After work at 7:30 p.m., we'll all go to the club. I think after all this, we need to relax a little bit." - He suggested.

Everyone agreed, and gradually the room began to empty. One by one, they left, discussing plans for the evening. Namjoon was sitting at the table, continuing to work, and when Jungkook took a step toward the door, he stopped him.

"Stay a minute." - Jungkook looked at Jimin, who. He stepped in front of him and raised his eyebrows in surprise. Jimin pursed his lips and sent support in the form of a nod. Jungkook closed the door and walked over to the table.

When they were alone, Namjoon ran his hand over his face, as if to wash away the fatigue.

"I..." - He fell silent, then exhaled and looked Jungkook straight in the eye. "I'm sorry." - Jungkook looked surprised, raising his eyebrows.

"For what?" - He asked, not really knowing.

"For doubting you." - Namjoon said sincerely. "I know how dedicated you are, but when the whole situation started to unfold... I really thought you might have betrayed me."

Jungkook was silent for a few seconds before responding seriously.

"I would never do that." - He assured him. Namjoon looked at him and then nodded.

"I know. I know now." - He was silent for a moment and then added. "If anything ever goes wrong, remember that you can come to me. Always." - He said suddenly. Jungkook tensed a little, but then nodded.

"Thank you." - He bowed low.

"I know you're not here of your own free will, and your girlfriend asked me to let you go in exchange for information she brought me. And it's really valuable information, and it turns out I have to keep my word. So..." - Namjoon stood up from his chair and walked over to Jungkook. Jungkook looked at his boss carefully. "I forgive you all of your debt. You no longer owe me anything. You've worked hard for me all these years, so I've decided that you're now free from our agreement." - Jungkook could not believe he was hearing these words. They had been necessary for him at one point, but why wasn't he as happy as he had imagined when the debt was paid off?

"Are you serious?" - Jungkook asked in disbelief. Namjoon smiled sadly.

"Yes, our golden maknae." - He tapped him on the shoulder. "So if you want to leave, I'll understand, but not right now. Please finish the business with Uranium and you can be free." - Namjoon pressed his lips together. He looked like he was going to cry. Jungkook wanted to laugh that a man like Namjoon wanted to cry for him. He would finally be free.

But something in the middle of him was twisting. He had wanted to leave the world of the mafia for years, and now that he was really free, he seemed... reluctant to leave. He dreamed of this moment, of freedom, of being able to just disappear and start a new life. But for some reason, now this freedom seemed empty to him, like something he does not remember, as something unknown to him. But there was you, and you were pregnant. You will definitely be against it if he stays.

Silence hung between them, but this time it was not tense.

"Namjoon..." - Jungkook looked up again at the man in front of him. He looked calm, but his eyes betrayed fatigue and... sadness?

"Yes?" - Namjoon raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Why now? Why did you decide to let me go now?" - Jungkook asked. Namjoon tilted his head slightly, as if evaluating his words, and then exhaled heavily.

"You've always been one of the best, Jungkook. I've seen you as a potential since the first time we met. And I know I kept you here longer than I should have. But after everything... I realized that I don't want you to stay here just because of your debt. If you're going to be a part of this world, it's going to be by choice." - Namjoon said honestly. "Besides, I made a promise to your girlfriend. How can I not keep my word to her, she's so brave and she really loves you to put herself through such a trial." - Jungkook smiled warmly. But he immediately remembered how he yelled at you today. His heart clenched and he felt terribly guilty. Jungkook didn't know what to say. He nodded, as if accepting Namjoon's words, but his mind was also full of questions that he couldn't find the answer to. "You can think about it." -Namjoon patted him on the shoulder. "Now go. You have a lot of work to do." - Namjoon returned to the table, and Jungkook bowed gratefully and turned and left the room. He was greeted by the warm voices of Jimin and Taehyung, who were waiting for him near Namjoon's secretary.

"Well?" - Taehyung asked when he saw Jungkook leave.

"Is everything okay?" - Jimin was also concerned, nudging him lightly with her elbow. Jungkook nodded but didn't say anything else.

Jungkook went into his office and immediately dialed your number. You were out of range. Jungkook raised his eyebrows. Jungkook stared at the phone screen as he dialed again and heard a cold, automated voice: "The caller is out of range..."

He sighed, running a hand over his face. This was suspicious. You rarely turned off your phone, especially now that you were carrying their child under your heart.

He remembered yelling at you. How his own voice cut through the air, and your eyes gradually filled with pain.

"Fuck..." - He muttered, clutching the phone in his hand. You couldn't just turn off the phone. Was you really offended? That would be fair enough... He was being an idiot.

Jungkook leaned back and closed his eyes. Memories came flooding back to him.

He had known you all his life. At first, you were just friends, inseparable since childhood. You were always there for each other, sharing secrets, laughing, quarreling. Then everything changed. You started living together because he offered to save you some money and it seemed convenient, logical, and right at the time.

This offer changed his life forever. He is happy that he offered you and happy that you agreed at the time. He remembers all the fights he had because of those stupid rules you made up. It makes him smile now, but back then it was so annoying.

There was sexual tension between you because you started to react differently to his jokes, to his touch, you were jealous of the girls he brought home back then. On the day you had a big fight and wanted to move out because he specifically did not follow the rules you created, he realized he had to act.

He realized that you seemed to like him and he was right. Soon after that you two became friends with benefits, and the sex with you was so passionate and insatiable that he was just crazy about you. And then... Then he realized that he could no longer imagine his life without you.

Jungkook was head over heels in love with you. He adored you. And the fact that you loved him back was the best thing that had ever happened to him.You had gone through so much in those six months that it seemed like you had been together forever.

Jungkook always knew you were special. Ever since we were kids, you were more than just a friend to him. But he didn't pay much attention to it - it was just something he was used to, as natural as the air he breathed.

He fell in love with you gradually, unnoticed by himself.

First, he fell in love with your laugh. You laughed loudly, openly, without holding back your emotions. He could recognize your voice among hundreds, and as soon as you laughed, his heart began to beat faster.

Then there was your stubbornness. You always had your own opinion, you were not afraid to object to him, to argue, to prove your point. Sometimes it annoyed him, but at the same time, it fascinated him. He loved that sparkle in your eyes when you were passionate about something, loved your confidence with which you challenged him.

And then came the passion.

It was always there between you - even when you were just friends. Invisible, hidden behind innocent touches, glances that lingered a little longer than they should have. He remembered the first time he touched your lips - you were so sweet on his lips, so provocative, and he fucking loved it. He remembers your first sex. How your skin trembled under his fingers, how you squeezed his shoulders as if you were afraid he would disappear.

Jungkook remembered every night he spent with you. How you whispered his name, how you curled up in his arms, how you gave him your trust and tenderness. These were the moments when he lost his head, when nothing existed but the two of you.

But it was something else that captivated him the most.

The fact that after all the passionate nights you stayed with him. He would wake up in the morning and see you next to him - with tousled hair, slightly swollen lips, still sleepy, but so dear. You would hug him in his sleep, looking for warmth, and then he would realize that you were not just his passion. You are his love.

And this love has lived in him ever since.

You had to do was look at him and he would fall back into that whirlpool. You had to say something in your quiet, trusting voice or run your fingers over his wrist and he would lose control.

You were his fire and his calm. You were his temptation and his refuge. His best friend, his love, his universe.

And every time he looked at you, he fell in love all over again.

Jungkook finally opened his eyes. He will work for a few more hours and then go home. About forty hours passed and he dialed your number again.

"The caller is out of range..." - His fingers nervously tapped the table. He looked at the screen and saw that he had already called you four times.

Something was wrong.

Jungkook tried to concentrate on his work, but nothing was working. Thoughts of you were always in his head. He tried several more times to contact you, but it was all in vain. After two hours, he couldn't take it anymore. He stood up decisively, took his car keys from the desk, and left the office.

Jungkook went to Jimin's office and he was talking to someone on the phone. He had to wait for five minutes, which seemed like an eternity.

"Jimin, I came to tell you that I'm going home. Y/N is out of the zone and I don't like it. Her phone has been off for two hours now." - Jungkook said. Jimin got up excitedly and came over to him.

"Don't worry buddy, she probably just got mad at you and turned her phone off so you wouldn't call." - Jungkook shook his head. He thinks so too, but he'll be calm if he comes home and you're still mad at him and he'll do everything he can to make up with you.

"Yeah, I'll go." - Jungkook says, about to leave, but Jimin stops him.

"Hey Jungkook, when you and Y/N make up..." - He winks at Jungkook, hinting at sex between the two of you. "Come to “Muse” and we'll celebrate it together." - Jungkook smiles.

"Okay, Hyung, we'll come. When are you going to go there?" - Jungkook asked.

"I have some things to do. So I'll be there around 8:00." - Jungkook nods and says goodbye with a final "See you at the club".

On the way home, he tries to call you again, but your phone is off. Jungkook starts to get nervous. He arrives at your apartment, goes up to the 7th floor, enters the code to the door, and immediately realizes that you are not home. He looks for you in all the rooms, hoping that you are just lying there upset with no light on, but you are not there. Not in any room. The apartment is empty.

Jungkook is afraid to imagine what could have happened. He quickly goes to the car and gets behind the wheel. He starts the engine and drives to his apartment. Maybe you wanted to be there. To hide? On the way to his apartment, Jungkook dials Jimin.

"I'm listening to Jungkook-ah." - He says cheerfully.

"Jimin, brother, can you please check Y/N's location on her phone? She's not at home."

"Yes, Jungkook-ah, don't panic, okay?" - Jimin immediately felt the tension in his voice. "I'll check the geolocation now. Maybe she just turned off her phone somewhere."

"Please do it quickly." - Jungkook gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"I'll call you in ten minutes." - Jimin said.

Jungkook drove fast and arrived at his apartment, ran out of the car, and quickly went upstairs. He entered the code, opened the door, and his heart went cold. There was no sign that you had come here.

He walked from room to room, peering into the darkness until didn’t beat the wall. His breathing was labored, his chest tightened with a bad feeling. He instantly turned around, ran out of the apartment, and rushed to his car. As soon as he got behind the wheel, the phone rang.

"Well?" - He asked impatiently, answering the call. Jimin paused and then spoke.

"Kid... I don't want to scare you, but her last location was the Panho Bridge, near the Han River. And then the signal just disappeared." - Jungkook felt his chest tighten with panic.

"Wh-what?!" - He compress the steering wheel hard, trying to control himself. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. But calm down. The phone could have just blow off, or..."

"Or it could have been thrown into the river!" - Jungkook growled, nervously running his fingers through his hair. "Oh my God, she's been kidnapped? Fuck Jimin, she's pregnant... I have to find her!"

"She's pregnant? Oh my god! Jungkook, calm down! We'll find her! Just give me a minute, I'll check the cameras outside her house." - Jimin soothed.

"Do that. And please do it as soon as possible." - Jungkook dropped the phone, started the engine, and sped toward the bridge, ignoring the red lights and other drivers' signals. He was afraid that Doohoon might be involved in your disappearance again. Jungkook gripped the steering wheel with a terrifying force. The fucking sucker! He had enough. He's going to kill him if he's found to be responsible for your kidnapping.

The touches of reality come slowly. At first, it's oppressive darkness. Then - a heaviness in the head, as if consciousness is breaking through a thick fog. Your eyes do not open yet, but the sensations... they cut through this darkness, make you feel.

Cold. A piercing, unfamiliar cold that gets under my skin. You smell dampness, and dust hangs in the air.

You open your eyes. You see a dusty room in front of you. Darkness envelops every corner, with only a faint ray of moonlight coming through the dirty window. The air is frozen, musty, as if this room has not been opened for years.

Your body aches. You try to stand up, but your muscles refuse to obey. Your head is dizzy and your mouth is dry.

What did he do? What happened?

The last thing you remember is Doohoon pinning you to the car, the pain of a needle piercing your neck, and then darkness.

You don't know how you ended up here, but you know it's bad. Very bad.

Your foggy mind tries to figure out what's going on, but it fails.

Your baby.

Your heart is beating faster. What's wrong with her? Panic rolls in like a wave. You run your hands over your stomach, as if that can make a difference. What if it hurt the baby? What if...

No. If anything happens to the baby, you swear you'll kill Doohoon with your bare hands.

You turn your head involuntarily. The phone is gone. Your bag is gone. Nothing. You are cut off from the world.

Panic builds like a snowball, but you force yourself to breathe steadily. Now you can't show fear. You can't panic. You need to understand where you are and what Doohoon is up to.

You have to hold out. You have to find a way to escape. But above all, you need to understand how far Doohoon is willing to go.

Suddenly, the silence is split by the sound of footsteps. Heavy, measured, and you freeze. Your heart beats an anxious rhythm in your chest. The door creaks as it opens. A silhouette appears in the moonlight. Tall, tense. Doohoon.

His eyes are dark, shining with something inexplicable. He stares at you for a long time, as if reveling in the fact that you is helpless here, in front of him.

"Are you awake, Candy?" - His voice is soft, but you can hear the hidden tension in it. "Finally." - He closes the door behind him, and you suddenly realize that the trap has closed. It's hard to breathe from fear and pain, but you won't give up. All that matters now is the baby. You have to get through this. You have to endure it. Save the baby. You think about Jungkook and you want to cry. Sooner or later, he will find you. He will find you.

"He won't find you." - Doohoon suddenly says, as if reading your mind. He stops in front of you. He takes a chair that was standing nearby and sits down. He has a strange smile on his lips that you want to wipe away with your fists.

"Doohoon, have you gone fucking crazy?" - You say, your voice hoarse. You're shivering from the cold, your head hurts, and the gap is still spinning.

"Are you cold?" - He ignores your question and asks his own, a damn stupid one. You raise your eyebrows, wanting to strangle this idiot with your own hands.

His indifference only adds fuel to your anger. You're shivering, but you don't know if it's from the cold or from hatred.

"Are you serious?" - Your voice breaks into a rasp. "Doohoon, you injected me with something and kidnapped me, and now you're asking me if I'm cold?" - He sighs, leaning forward a little. His gaze is full of condescension.

"Well, it doesn't mean I want you to be sick, Candy." - He says it so tenderly, as if you were really his precious treasure and not a kidnapping victim. It's disgusting. It's...

You think of your baby. You look down, and almost instinctively put your hand on his. Fear clutches your throat. He notices your movement and squints.

"What's wrong?" - His voice changes, becoming more alert. "Worried about the baby?"

You force yourself to meet his gaze, trying not to show fear. You look at him with hostility.

"What did you inject me with?" - You ask. He does not answer. He just looks at you. Your patience is running out. When he doesn't answer and you feel like you've been waiting forever for him to answer, you can't contain your anger any longer. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME! ANSWER ME, YOU SICK BASTARD!" - You scream.

Everything happens quickly. He flies up to you and grabs you by the hair with one hand and the cheeks with the other. You automatically grab his hands. His fingernails dig into your soft skin, and his other hand clutches your hair painfully. He brings his face dangerously close to yours for a short distance. His face is still beautiful and flawless, but you see only the monster again, not the beautiful man.

"Who gave you permission to raise your voice to me?" - Doohoon says, lowering his voice to almost a whisper. His breath is hot and unpleasant on your skin. His eyes are dark, almost crazy. He squeezes your face harder, making you feel weak, defenseless. "You know I don't like it when you act so rough, Candy." - His voice is almost caressing, but it sounds threatening.

You gasp for air, trying not to let your fear show. His fingers dig painfully into your jaw, but you don't look away. Your heart is beating in a frantic rhythm, but you force yourself to hold on.

"Just tell me…" - You say, holding back tears. He looks at you, letting go of your cheeks. Then he touches your face gently, almost weightlessly, with his fingers. You resist, but he holds you back by pulling your hair, reminding you that you are in his hands.

"You're so beautiful, Candy. Have I ever told you that?" - He asks, his gaze locked on your eyes. You look at him angrily, no you look at him with eyes full of hate.

"I don't need your compliments." - You say, your voice trembling with hatred. Doohoon laughs. He looks at you for a second longer before suddenly letting go. You can feel the pain where his nails dug into your skin. But you don't lower your head.

"You talk too much." - He sighs, as if tired of your disobedience. Then he tilts his head to the side and changes his tone. "Sleeping pills. That's all." - You don't believe him.

"You mean it won't harm the baby?" - He presses his lips together as if thinking, before answering calmly.

"Why would I lie?" - He asks, putting his hands in his pockets. You look at his figure towering over you. Your hands clench into fists.

"Because you're an asshole." - You say through gritted teeth. He laughs. The sound makes you feel even worse.

"You're so outspoken, Candy. That's one of the things I hate about you." - He admits.

"Why am I here?" - You abruptly change the subject because you can't take the tension anymore. He doesn't answer. He hurls at you an irritating view. Doohoon decides that you have nothing more to talk about and walks away without answering you. "Hey, are you deaf? Where are you going?" - You try to get out of bed and chase him, but he's out the door. When you get to the door, it is already locked. You beat on the door with your hands, screaming, calling out to him, but to no avail. You slide down by the door, sitting on the cold floor and crying.

You sit on the cold floor, clutching your knees with your hands, and tears roll down your cheeks one by one. They are hot, stinging, but you do not wipe them away.

You are desperate. You don't even try to hide it - who needs it? You sob, biting your lip to calm yourself down a little. Everything is so bad that you don't even know how to cope with it. Why you? Why do you have to go through this?

His face pops into my head. Jungkook.

His deep dark eyes that always looked at you with such passion and care. His strong arms that hugged you as if they could protect you from the whole world. His voice full of tenderness when he called you by your favorite nickname...

"Jungkook..." - You whisper it barely audibly, as if this word could make him come here. But the silence in the room only proves once again that he is not here. That he doesn't even know where you are.

Pain rips through your chest. You clench your hands, your nails digging into your skin, trying not to cry even harder. But you can't stop yourself. And then your hand, almost instinctively, falls back on your stomach.

You inhale sharply. A baby. Your baby. You're not alone. You close your eyes slowly, forcing yourself to breathe more evenly.

For her... or him. For your baby's sake, you can't let yourself fall apart now.

A chill courses through your body, forcing you to finally lift your head. You take another breath, swallowing back tears, and finally force yourself to stand up. One step at a time. With your palms resting on the floor until you feel your body finally lift. You go back to the bed and slowly sit on the edge.

You're shaking, but you try to focus on your breathing. Take a deep breath. Exhale. Don't be nervous. Don't think about the worst.

You throw your head back, looking at the ceiling. But instead of a white canvas, you see him again. You remember his warm embrace. His chest, which you pressed against and felt so warm. His hands that touched you so gently.

You bite your lip, trying to push it out of your mind. But your heart feels like it's going crazy with pain.

"Jungkook..." - His name escapes your lips again, like a mantra. You want to be in his arms. You want to feel his warmth. You want him to be with you now... But he's not here. Only you are. And the darkness, which seems to be getting denser by the minute.

You climbed onto the bed, wrapping yourself in your coat. It was dirty, covered in dust. You sat staring at one point and didn't know what to do. You didn't know how much time has passed. An hour, two hours... you completely lost track of it. Your head hurt from crying and stress. Suddenly you heard footsteps again. Doohoon was coming toward you.

You tensed up against your will. How you wanted him to disappear to forever.

He enters the room and you notice that the light is on in the corridor. A strip of light makes its way into the room where you are sitting. Doohoon finds you sitting on the bed and flips the switch.

A bright light fills the room, and you put your hands over your crying face, you can't see the light because you're used to the darkness.

Doohoon goes inside and closes the door. The smell of ramen reaches your nose. You take your hands away from your face and see him putting a box of ramen and a corndog on a chair. He pulls the chair with the food closer to you.

You looked at the steam coming off the ramen, the smell of the seasonings should have awakened your appetite, but you didn't. You looked up at Doohoon, who took another chair and sat down next to you.

"You need to eat." - He said coldly. There was no trace of the softness in his voice that he usually showed you.

"I'm not hungry." - You said, looking away. You turned your face the other way so you wouldn't have to look at Doohoon, who you hated.

He presses his lips together, your words irritating him, but he doesn't say anything. He just pushes the food even closer, as if that will make you change your mind.

"Eat." - His voice is sharp, without any warmth.

"I said I don't want any." - You stubbornly turn away even more. Doohoon exhales, as if he's trying not to get angry.

"It's not up for discussion." - His voice becomes lower, more threatening. "You need to eat. You can't get weak."

"I don't care what you think." - You say colorlessly. You hear him smile.

"What? You decided to torture yourself? You've want to starve yourself until Junguk comes for you?" - Doohoon asks. You turn your head sharply toward him.

"It won't take him long to come get you!" - You say in exasperation. His eyes flash with curiosity. Doohoon gets up and walks over to the bed. He sits down in front of your legs tucked under your arms. You keep your eyes on him, as if preparing to defend yourself.

"You do realize he's not coming, Candy." - His voice is almost gentle, but there is only coldness in his eyes. You hate it when he calls you that. You hate the fake calmness in his voice. You hate the arrogant expression on his face as he looks at you now.

"He's coming." - You clench your teeth stubbornly. Doohoon laughs softly.

"He doesn’t care about you." - His next words make you freeze. "Jungkook won’t be getting out of that hole I drove him into anytime soon." - You blink. What? What has he done again?

"What did you…?" - You say quietly. He smiles contentedly.

"I made sure he wasn’t a problem anymore." - Doohoon replies. Your stomach clenches in horror.

"What are you talking about?!" - Your voice trembles. Did he hurt Jungkook again? He’s been everywhere. What kind of person is he?

Doohoon catches your gaze relaxed, enjoying your reaction.

"I set him up so that it would cost him his life." - He says.

"No…" - You whisper.

"Yes. And I tried to make it look very… convincing. It was easy to make him a traitor." - He says it lightly, as if it’s not a human life.

"Do you know Namjoon personally? If not, I can safely say that everyone who betrayed him is long since resting at the bottom of the Han River." - He says with a wide smile. He sits down closer and you tense up even more.

"No..." - You repeat again, not believing his words. And now you realize that this is the case Namjoon was talking about. The arms trade connected to the Black Pearl is the work of Doohoon.

"So I don't think you should go hungry. You should eat and think for yourself." - You were silent. You are breathing heavily, and you are filled with anger. For the fact that Doohoon can't accept Jungkook's existence. For not realizing that you hate him and that you will never reciprocate. For not being able to stop himself in time and making it all go crazy. Doohoon reaches for the box of ramen and hands it to you. You look at the food and then push it with your hand. All the ramen flies to the floor.

Doohoon sees what you did and his patience is over. He stands up and grabs you sharply. Doohoon squeezes your wrist so hard that you scream. His face is distorted with rage, his eyes dark as a bottomless pit.

"You're unbearable, you know that?" - His voice is husky, threatening. He pulls you sharply toward him, forcing you to rest your arms against his chest to keep your distance. You hit him, try to break free, but his grip only tightens.

"Let go of me!" - You scream, wriggling, but he doesn't even blink.

"Stop playing around. You're mine, and it's time to accept it." - He says. He leans closer, his breath burning hot on your skin. His fingers grip your jaw roughly, forcing you to look into his eyes. His other hand goes around your waist, trying to hold you close. Panic flares up in you even more.

You try to pull away, but in vain. In a moment, you find yourself on the bed, pinned down by his body. You look at him with eyes full of horror. If he does this to you, you just won't survive it.

He tries to kiss you, but you turn your head away, and then you feel his lips on your neck. The adrenaline in your blood is going through the roof. You start to resist even more, screaming. His breathing is hot and ragged, and his grip is iron. You pull with all your might, but he doesn't even move.

"Don't touch me! Stop it!" - You scream, your voice trembling with panic. - "Doohoon, don't you dare!"

He just smiles wryly, his fingers clenching your jaw ruthlessly, not allowing you to turn away.

"There's no need to provoke me, Candy." - He speaks in a low tone, his voice laced with irritation and morbid desire.

You can't breathe. He's too close. His weight is overwhelming, squeezing your chest, leaving no room for resistance. But you are not going to give up. He tries to get through your clothes and you're glad you have a coat on.

"Let me go, or else..." - Your voice breaks, but you force yourself to continue. "If you... if you do that, I'll kill myself!" - Doohoon freezes. His eyes darken even more, and this time there is something new in them - anxiety. He looks at you, his breathing steadies, and his fingers weaken. He is breathing heavily, just like you. You are painfully disgusted with him lying on top of you. He looks at your face for a moment longer, then lets you go and sits on the edge of the bed. He runs his hands over his face.

You can only hear his heavy breathing in the room. You climb further up on the bed, farther away from Doohoon. He turns to you, seeing your frightened look.

"You prefer death to being with me?" - He asks, more disappointed than angry. You look up at him, frightened, exhausted, and broken. Hot tears flow down your face from your shock. You hadn't eaten properly for two days and didn't sleep well, and you didn't have the strength to fight him because he is a healthy, strong man. Even if you knew some taekwondo moves, you couldn't use them, you just don't have the physical strength.

You are silent, scared to death. Doohoon approaches again, but he doesn't get too close. Your eyes are pure fear.

"Candy, you'll be mine willingly. You'll see, I'm much better than that bastard. We'll be happy together, you just have to accept me." - He looks at you, and you don't say anything, still crying. He curses, exhaling heavily. "I'll prove to you that you won't be disappointed in me. Just give me a chance." - He says desperately. You shiver from the old age and the cold.

"I'd rather die than be with you." - You say, determination in your voice. "You are a sick bastard who attacked a pregnant woman and kidnapped her." - You say, finally trampling on Doohoon’s hopes of having any kind of relationship with you. His eyes express anger. He raises his eyebrows and looks at you for a long time. Then he stands up abruptly. He turns to you and his voice is colder than the weather outside.

"I told you that you are mine. Whether you like it or not." - He pushed his foot away the chair with the cold corndog still on it. "Jungkook will not find you, and we will leave here very soon. To a place where no one will know you or me. And of course , I won't let you carry his child." - You freeze. It's like you're paralyzed.

"What...?" - You whisper unconsciously.

"Do you think I'm going to let you have of his child in you?" - His face distorts with anger. "I'll take it away, just like everything else."

You clutch your stomach, as if that could somehow protect your child.

"You won't do that..." - You say, shaking your head.

"I've already decided." - His voice is cold. "Jungkook is dead. And his child shouldn't live." - You clench your jaw, feeling the hot tears running down your cheeks in a thin ribbon along the route you've already laid out.

"If you ever hurt my child, I swear with everything I have, I will kill you." - You threatened. And you were one hundred percent sure of your words. You would never have thought of saying such words before, not even in your mind, let alone felt that you could do it.

Doohoon doesn't answer. He turns around and leaves the room, locking it.

The morning greets you with a coldness that penetrates to the bone. You sit with your arms wrapped around yourself, trying to keep warm. Your eyelids are heavy from a sleepless night, but you don't even think about closing your eyes. You can't. Everything is too quiet in this room, and every rustle seems as loud as thunder.

You don't know what time it is, but the sun has already risen high enough that a gray, dim light is shining through the bars of the window. It makes this room even more depressing - the walls seem even dirtier, the ceiling even lower, and your helplessness even more bitter.

You got up several times to stretch your muscles. You went to the window to study the area. There were bars on the window. You tried several times to loosen them, but to no avail. You couldn't make much noise so as not to attract attention. After trying for the third time, you gave up. You closed the window because the room was already cold.

You went to the door and listened. Doohoon's quiet voice was coming from behind the door. You could hear his words broken off: "at the company," "I got rid of phone," "the situation." The only thing you could understand from what you heard was that Doohoon had got rid of phone, but which phone was he talking about? Was it yours or his?

You listened again, but there was silence. You stood at the door, listening intently, but it was still quiet. You exhaled heavily. Your stomach growls, and you are hungry. You glance at the ramen scattered on the floor, and then at the cordon lying on the chair next to the bed. You turn away and go to the bed.

You lie down facing away from the door, curled up in a fetal position to keep warm. You close your eyes and feel terribly tired. You lie there wondering how to escape, what to do next. Is Jungkook looking for you? He should know by now that you are gone.

Your chest is pierced with pain, he is definitely looking for you. Namjoon didn't kill him. He couldn't have. He would've definitely looked into whether Jungkook could've betrayed him first. You think that would have been the case. But what if he didn't? Your blood runs cold at the thought that Jungkook could have been killed. You quickly push away the horrible thoughts that you shouldn't get yourself worked up.

You almost doze off. A cold, unpleasant dream was beginning to envelop you when suddenly you heard a loud bang. You sat up sharply on the bed, frightened. It felt like someone smashed a chair against the wall.

"FUCK! WHY THE FUCK IS THAT BASTARD STILL ALIVE!!!" - You hear Doohoon's furious voice. Your heart is pounding in your chest in a frantic rhythm. He's alive. Jungkook is alive. And he's looking for you. You run to the door, listening to what's going on behind it. "I PAID YOU MONEY TO DO THE RIGHT THING! LISTEN, YOU DUMBASS, IF I GET TO YOU, AND I WILL, YOU'RE GOING TO BE SORRY YOU DIDN'T DO IT RIGHT." - Doohoon is shouting somewhere in the next room and you can hear him clearly. He stops talking and you listen intently to the silence without even breathing. "Is he coming here?" - You can barely hear. A smile touches your lips. Your heart is racing. Jungkook is coming to get you.

But you cannot rejoice for long. You hear quick footsteps and run to bed. You barely have time to lie down on it, turning away, when the door opens. They swing open with such force that they kick up dust in a shock wave. You turn your head. Doohoon bursts into the room, his face contorted with anger, his eyes full of madness.

"Get up!" - He barks. He walks toward you and you notice a rope in his hands. You don't move. "I said get up!" - He shouts again. You look down at the ropes and notice on his wristwatch that it is 7 am.

He grabs your arm, pulling you to the edge of the bed. Before you can resist, he deftly throws the rope and ties your wrists together. Tightly. So hard that you can barely hold back a moan of pain.

"What are you doing?!" - You struggle, but it's no use. He ties you up. Your hands are tied behind your back, in a tight knot, binding them very tightly.

"We're leaving." - His voice is cold. He pushes you toward the door, forcing you to walk ahead. A few minutes later, you find yourself at the car. Doohoon opens the back door and then shoves you inside with a sudden movement. "Don't think about anything stupid." - He warns you. "I'm not an idiot to give you a chance to be free."

He drive for a long time. You don't know exactly how much time has passed. The windows are darkened, and your hands are cramping from the rough rope. You are worried that he has taken you too far. But Jungkook will definitely be able to find you, you are one hundred percent sure. You are sure that his friends from Ran Noir are helping him. They must be helping him.

When the car finally stops, Doohoon pulls you out and leads you inside a building. It's a small motel. The lamps on its sign have long since burned out, and old yellow light bulbs glow dimly in the corridors. It's almost at the end of its life.

"Be quiet." - He orders, stopping you at the threshold. "If you make a sound, you'll regret it."

You walk into a horrible lobby. An old man sits at the reception desk. He looks at you indifferently. Doohoon doesn't even try to hide your tied-up position. His hand squeezes your shoulder so hard that you're sure it will bruise.

"We need a number." - He says sharply, throwing a money on the countere. The old man looks at you lazily, then shrugs and holds out a key.

"Second floor, end of the corridor." - He answers, grabbing the money and starting to count it. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. This old man doesn't seem to care that you are tied up and dirty. Maybe he sees pictures like this every day, or maybe the earnings in this motel are so meager that he doesn't neglect any earnings.

Doohoon pulls you sharply behind him, forcing you to hurry up the stairs. The door closes with a loud click. The room is filled with the musty smell of dampness and dust. The gray curtain is barely hanging on the curtain rod, and there are dark spots on the ceiling.

"Sit down." - He orders, pushing you toward the old sofa. You don't argue. There is no point in it. You just look up at him, not hiding your anger.

"What are you going to do now? Are you going to sit here and watch me until your plan falls apart?" - You ask. The hope that Jungkook will find you soon gives you strength.

"Shut your mouth!" - He growls. "Don't try my patience!" - He warns. You shut up, thinking it's the right thing to do.

Doohoon doesn't sit down. He walks nervously around the room, clutching his phone in his hand. You realize he's nervous.

A few minutes later his phone rings. Doohoon answers it almost immediately.

"Yes!" - His voice is tense. You stare at his face, trying to understand what's going on. But it's not him who gives you the answer.

"Doohoon, I just found out that they've tracked you down. I saw that Jin is monitoring the roads from Seoul to Osan and Cheonan." - The voice on the phone is clear enough. You hold your breath. Ran Noir is looking for you, along with Jungkook. All you have to do is hold out until they find you.

"Damn shit!" - Doohoon curses. "DO SOMETHING! Turn off the lights, turn off the internet. Do something to buy me some time!" - He yells, ordering.

"Yes, Doohoon, I'll do anything for y..." - Suddenly the sound in the phone changes. It's screaming. The man on the other end seems to be choking on his own words.

"What the...?!" - Doohoon doesn't understand what happened. He hears the rustling and screaming. "Hey Insoo, what's wrong?" - Doohoon waits for an answer. You strain your ears. And you hear someone answering.

"Hello, honey." - You hear a familiar voice, but you can't remember who it belongs to. "Hey Doohoon, I think you're in big-big shit." - You catch the jovial tone and realize it must be Jin.

"Fuck!" - Doohoon throws the phone against the wall with all his might. You duck as the phone goes straight over your head. It shatters, falling into pieces. You realize only now that it was not his phone. He was using an iPhone, and the broken phone, the pieces of which are lying not far from your feet, is a Samsung. You don't have time to say anything. He abruptly grabs you, forcing you to stand up.

Doohoon drags you outside. He opens the car and pulls you into the trunk. Once you're in it, panic immediately clamps down on your throat. There is not enough air. There's not enough space. Your head is pounding, but you try not to panic.

You don't know how much time is passing. You were counting the minutes, but then you lost track. You were also ready to remember whether he turned, whether he turned on his turn signals, whether he stopped at a traffic light. But it was useless. You drove straight the whole time, not stopping anywhere.

When the car finally stops, Doohoon pulls you again. Your whole body hurts and you are exhausted to the max. The building he brings you to looks like it should have collapsed long ago. You inhale the dust and metallic flavor. An aluminum factory or something like that?

Doohoon drags you up the stairs, which sway under the weight of his steps. He sits you down on the floor. And he looks nervously out the window, which looks like it leads to the road. You see him reach into the waistband of his pants and pull out a gun. You freeze in horror.

He twirls the gun in his hands as if thinking about something, and then abruptly puts it down on the windowsill, sighing heavily. The room is in tense silence, broken only by the sound of the wind seeping through the cracks in the walls.

You clench your fists, feeling the ropes cut into your wrists. Your heart is pounding furiously.

"Why did you do all this? What have you achieved?" - You ask, your voice hoarse with fatigue. Doohoon doesn't even turn his head.

"You should have been mine from the beginning." - His voice trembles with anger. "He stole you from me, shamelessly, when I told him I liked you." - He turns to you, and his eyes are fierce. "You chose a scumbag. You chose him!" - Doohoon takes a step closer, and you instinctively move away. "And I... I loved you all my life!" - You shudder at his words.

"Love?" - You laugh bitterly. "Is this love? Kidnapping, violence, threats?" - He clenches his jaws, his eyes full of hatred.

"I could have given you everything... You ran to him. To an arrogant, narcissistic bastard who fucked everything that moved! And you took him when he was sated enough." - You look up at him sharply.

"You think you can hurt me with that? Do you think I don't know that?" - You ask. Doohoon grinds his teeth.

"You know…" - He said with venom in his voice. "So that means you just another one on his list. Another Jungkook’s whore!" - Doohoon says roughly and approaches you.

"And you're just another pathetic loser who can't accept the fact that he's been rejected!" - You reply with no less rudeness. His fist clenches. And a moment later you feel a sharp pain as his palm comes down on your cheek with all its strength. Your head falls to the side, your ears ring.

"SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!" - Doohoon screaming. You accidentally bite your lip, not expecting a blow, and it starts to bleed. You remain silent, licking your lips, the taste of blood flooding your mouth. "I'll wait for him here." - Doohoon says, grabbing your hair. He tilts your head back and looks right into your eyes. "And this time it really will be over." - He pulls your head back and walks away.

You are left alone. Your chest heaves painfully with deep breathing. Tears are in your eyes, but you don't let them escape.

And suddenly... A barely audible rustle. You raise your head sharply. And you meet his eyes.

Jungkook.

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[enlyume]

Not so secret

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: Steve accidentally finds out why Bucky insisted on him taking a day off.

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Notes: This is Bucky x female reader, but with Steve's POV. AU with no superpowers. Also, English is not my first language :)

Being the owner of your own gym comes with a few pros and a lot of cons. The pros? You knew a lot of people - and women - you could make your own schedule and choose your own staff and as a personal trainer you could stay fit. Cons: You had to put up with clients complaining about the self-defence classes being too difficult, your colleagues flirting with their wives, and you being on call 24/7 with no holidays. But, so far, Steve was enjoying his gym life.

Two and a half years of surviving in Brooklyn seemed like a success, so he could choose how to spend his first free day in a long time. Clean his apartment, go to his mother's house to help her with some water-related problems, go for a run and do some shopping. He could already hear Bucky, Natasha and Sam saying that this was far from a free day, but he didn't care.

He knew Bucky would scoff and swear he would never give him another day off, but looking at his now full fridge, he felt happy. So happy that he thought he could at least give his friends the satisfaction of a night off drinking. Maybe not until he got really drunk, because the next day was Friday and he had to open the gym, but still.

So he called Bucky, and when he didn't pick up the phone, he tried Natasha.

"I can't believe you wasted your first day off in months running errands. We are not friends anymore," she said, and Steve could picture her sitting on her couch, the TV on a murder mystery, her eyes narrowed. "That's not what Buck and I work our asses off for, Rogers!" she complained.

"Hey, I can do whatever I want with my free time. And, how do you know that?!" he asked, looking around for a hidden camera. His friends wouldn't spy on him, would they?

"I know everything," she whispered and Steve felt the urge to hang up and go and read. "OK, what's up? Are you taking off again tomorrow to help your neighbour redecorate?"

"I was thinking about going out for a drink with my friends, seeing as it's not that late, but I'm rethinking my life choices right now and I'm not so sure anymore."

"Don't be a drama queen, Stevie. Give me five, the bar next to my place".

"It'll take me more than five minutes to get there, Nat".

"Yeah, OK, you've got eight. Call the boys, I call the girls?" She asked and didn't need to elaborate. Natasha, Buck, Sam and himself were a team in and out of the gym. And since she finished college, and came back to Brooklyn, Becca usually joined them with her roommate Y/n.

"I already called Buck, but he didn't pick up. I'll try again," he replied, grabbing the keys and leaving his apartment. It wasn't that big, but living alone was more than enough and it was only a block away from the gym. That saved him the daily traffic jam.

He shrugged under his jacket, wishing it was summer, and walked down the street.

"Let me know if he doesn't pick up. I'll try," Natasha said, and Steve could hear her moving around her flat, getting ready.

"What makes you think he'll answer your call but not mine?" he sneered, smirking. Bucky had been pretty insistent about hiring Natasha, and although they flirted sometimes, it had never become anything serious. Or so he thought.

"He will," was her brief reply. Steve rolled his eyes and turned the corner. His eyes automatically drifted to the gym and he paused, frowning. The lights were on, but it was past closing time. "Hey, gotta go. See you in ten".

"Eight!" was the last thing he heard Natasha say before he hung up.

Steve crossed the street and tried the front door, breathing a sigh of relief when he found it locked. So Bucky wasn't there and hadn't left the gym open, he'd just forgotten to turn off the lights. He used the keys to get inside and went to his office to turn off all the lights from there, but stopped in the doorway when he saw Bucky's jacket and helmet on the table. His friend was still there? Past closing time? The blond left the office and went to the stairs, climbing them two at a time and heading for the only room where the lights were still on. Maybe Bucky had fallen and hurt himself, or maybe he had fainted, or maybe…

"That's not the way to use it, doll."

Doll. Doll. Steve narrowed his eyes, already angry with Bucky. When he'd offered to do the afternoon shift that Thursday too, on the pretext that he'd worked a lot and deserved a day off to rest, Steve hadn't been suspicious. It wasn't the first time Bucky had suggested it, and he'd had to get his house in order and run a few errands, so he'd accepted without question. And Bucky had smirked. He hadn't thought about it at the time, but now the smile had taken on a new meaning.

Emma, the student who had started Natasha's self-defence classes a month ago, immediately came to mind. Or it could be April, the recently divorced woman. She always laughed at his jokes, even when they weren't that funny, and stroked his arm openly. Steve opened his eyes wide. It could also be Peggy, making good on his threat.

"If you don't ask her out soon, I will, punk," he had told him a few times when Steve's eyes lingered on the door of the classroom Peggy had just entered. He took a deep breath, gripped the door handle and looked at the ceiling. Please don't let it be Peggy, he prayed. "Then tell me how it works."

Steve let go of the handle as if it were on fire. He knew that voice. It wasn't Peggy, but maybe it would have been better if it had been.

"Yeah, I'll pass. It's funnier to watch you try." Steve did not need to see his friend's face to know that he was smirking.

"Is that why you wanted me to come, to laugh at me?" She didn't mean it maliciously, because if there was one thing she knew about Y/N, it was that she wouldn't say anything to offend.

Steve tried to remember if he had seen her at the gym before. She was at the opening, sure, and she visited from time to time, but had she tried a class? He remembered Bucky telling her to leave because she was against the dress code. Y/N always gave the same answer: her gym clothes were just for posting photos on her social media.

"I wanted you to come so I could be alone with you. I missed you."

"We saw each other at Nat's last Sunday," she chuckled.

"Yes, but I couldn't…"

Steve knew he shouldn't, but curiosity took the best of him and he pushed the door just a little, so he could see them. Y/N was standing next to the treadmill and Bucky was holding her cheeks while he kissed her. He couldn't help but be surprised, because even though he knew what he was about to see, he didn't expect to see exactly that. His friend getting into trouble, kissing his younger sister's best friend? Yes. Bucky pulling away from her just enough to reach down and wrap his arms around her waist, filling her face with kisses, both of them laughing and whispering words in each other's ears? No. Because this didn't look like an affair. The smile on his friend's face as he listened intently to what she was telling him gave away that this was anything but a simple affair.

The sound of a mobile phone interrupted them and for a few seconds Steve thought it was his and he was going to get caught, but Bucky let go of Y/N and picked up his phone from the floor. "Hey Nat, what's up?"

Bucky turned, his back to the door, and Steve looked at Y/N. She had sat down on the workbench again and was trying to lift the weights without success. Bucky immediately gestured for her to let go and she obeyed, still smiling.

"I'd love to, but I've worked my ass off today and I'm dead. I'm going to bed," Bucky said to Natasha, declining her offer to join them for a drink.

Y/N held out her hand and Bucky took it, intertwining his fingers with hers and letting her pull on it, trying not to laugh. "Hmm, tempting, but I'll pass," Bucky said again. "Night, Nat."

He hung up and dropped the phone on the floor before standing over T/N. Steve took that as his cue and stepped back, not wanting to see any more. A low moan made him rush downstairs and out of the gym, closing the door carefully behind him. Bucky and Y/N. Y/N and Bucky. They were… what were they? Should he ask? He wanted to know and at the same time he didn't.

He walked on until he reached the bar and forced a smile when Sam held up his hand and waved at him. Natasha was next to him and Becca in front of them, a beer in her hand and laughing at something the redhead was telling her. And a new fear hit him: did Becca know?

"Took you longer than ten minutes, Rogers! You're paying next!" Natasha joked with her trademark smile. Steve nodded slowly as he sat down next to the younger Barnes.

"You all right? You look like you've seen a ghost," Sam chuckled, taking a sip of his beer. Steve ignored him and turned to Becca.

"Where's Y/N? Is she coming?"

He wondered if he was being too direct. He could have made some small talk before asking about her, or maybe he should have asked about his brother first. But he needed to know if Becca knew about her best friend and Bucky. The brunette rolled her eyes and shrugged.

"She already had plans with her colleagues."

"Why? They're not as fun as us," Sam complained.

"And your brother?" Steve asked again and Becca tilted her head. "I called him, but he didn't pick up."

"He said he was tired," Natasha said, a smirk on her lips. "But from his tone, I bet he's with a girl."

"What?! He ditched us for a girl?" Sam complained again. "He deserves to work all weekend, Steve."

"I don't know, Sam," Steve murmured, looking down at his hands. He remembered Bucky's smile, Y/N's laugh and them holding hands. His best friend saying how much he missed them. And then he remembered that Y/N didn't work weekends. "He's been working a lot lately. I think he deserves a weekend off."

"Whaaaat?"

Their friends started talking at the same time. Sam was whining again, while Natasha and Becca were plotting how to ruin Bucky's weekend. Steve stood up, smiling.

"OK, next round's on me!"

[shanklin]

"What if Stan gives Shanklin a Mini Mr. Mystery outfit? The two be twinning!"

Dear 500-word-ask!anon from my inbox. Have my answer for the first 14 words.

Selfish Shellfish AU - Masterpost

Shanklin found him. Somehow, hundreds of miles away from home, Shanklin found him.

Soos almost ran him over on accident but Stan took the steering wheel at the very last second and turned it around.

The sudden drift and following emergency brake had them almost break right through the windshield, but Stan didn’t care about his bruised shoulder and bleeding head. He recognized that screeching grin anywhere.

He threw himself out of the car and stumbled onto the street, frantically looking around for his friend.

“Shanklin! SHANKLIN!”

It wasn’t just his imagination, right? Stan was certain he saw his little possum. Stan turned around and ran back to the car. Did they hit him? Did he kill another member of his family? 

Stan sank to the ground. Please please don’t let it be true. Not Shanklin. Stan closed his eyes tightly and tried to block out the world around him until he felt little pricks on his thigh, little claws scratching his pants and the skin underneath.

A tiny furry body squeezed itselfs into a gap in between his curled up body and nestled comfortably on his lap.

Stan cradled the possum into his arms, hid his face in the scruffy fur and wept silently. Shanklin came back to him. For him. 

Soos suggested Shanklin might be magical, some sort of animal wizard or something, and Stan couldn’t help but agree.

“You really are magic, aren’t you? The smartest, most mysterious possum the world has ever seen!”

In response, the banana piece Shanklin was messily chewing on fell out of his mouth and he bit on the fabric in Stan's hands instead.

“Hey, that’s for the show, stop that! HEY!”

It took much more effort than expected to get Shanklin into the Mini Mr. Mystery outfit. For a super smart magical wizard pet he sure acted like a wild animal sometimes.No matter, Stan had succeeded and Shankling looked, quite honestly, really damn cute. Stan had been hoping for a more cool aesthetic, but the little hat, tie and suit combo was just adorable and matched his own perfectly.

Stan tried not to think about how much Grauntie Mabel would love it. How proud she would be, if things were different. She had taught him all about making comfortable clothes for animals, when Ford had kicked him out of their shared room in the attic that one time.

He, Fidds and Grunkle Dipper needed more space for an all night DD&mD extravaganza, so Stan had to go.

Back then Stan had tried to ask if he could join but chickened out at the last minute. 

“Stan, don't touch that. Those are some highly advanced calculations for later game play. I don’t want them all messed up. You wouldn’t understand”

Stan took a look at the sheets and it was true. Nothing on them made a lick of sense, but he had hoped they could just do the math for him and he could still be there for the fun bits.

The fun bits being the times when Stan heard them laughing and screaming in delight. The ones that became inside jokes that no one explained to Stan. And if he would asked them to, they’d just laugh harder.

But they were right, Stan wouldn’t understand. He’d just mess everything up.  

So he went downstairs, where Grauntie Mabel made him a warm chocolatey Mabel Juice variant and taught him all about how to sew in an emergency, in case you see a cute animal that would be even cuter in a little blazer. 

Sewing and creating miniature outfits was surprisingly fun and when he heard laughter from above and Grauntie Mabel put her arms around him in sympathy, he felt not as alone as usual.

“I know it’s hard,” she told him looking pained, “but we need to let those nerds do their own thing. If we go and force them to do stuff they don’t want to, it will just end badly for all of us. I’ve been through it before and trust me. This is for the best.”

Stan leaned into her and let himself be comforted by her warmth.

Stan did not tell her that he just wanted to play with them and not force them to do something else.

And he did not ask her why she constantly agreed with Dipper's plans then, even though she clearly didn’t want to. 

“Okay, I trust you.” he said instead and got rewarded with a kiss on his head and a cuddle. 

Mini Mr. Mystery was a blazing success! 

Everyone loved Shanklin, even if he almost ate his hat halfway through the show. 

If his luck streak continued, Stan would soon make enough money to pay Soos back for all that he had wasted on him.

Stan took a bow and held Shanklin out to the crowd who squeaked in protest.

The “awws” in response were justified. His Shanklin was adorable!

“Look at you and your twin!”

Shanklin started to squirm. Stan held him tighter and forced a grin.

“Almost identical. You can barely tell them apart.” 

oh don’t be silly. it’s easy. the freak with the glasses is the smart one and the one who looks like he can’t count to three is the spare

The crowd laughed.

mocking laughter, red cheeks, six fingered hands hiding away

“So if you’re the creative one then that must make this little guy the smart one right?”

don’t you ever call him that again

Stan's grip loosened and Shanklin attacked, jumping right onto the worst offender, scratching and biting. 

or i’ll make sure you won’t live long enough to regret it

The crowd jumped and screamed as the possum ran through, attacking everyone that looked like a threat. In midst the panic a path formed and Stan ran until his legs gave out.

Shanklin was still by his side when he finally collapsed and cuddled up next to him. Stan pet his head, now free of the fez.

Maybe Stan just wasn’t cut out for this twinning thing.

Later Soos would find them both fast asleep under a park tree. He swore up and down that Shanklin showed him the way and Stan swore that he never left his side.

[justoneofthoseghosts]

“You flinched.” + Brettsey

This one is AU featuring firefighter Brett and doctor Casey!

Sylvie winces as she massages her shoulder. Based on her basic EMT training, she didn't think it was dislocated. She could still move it anyway without much discomfort or pain.

She sighs, leaning back against the cold, metal chair in the Med waiting room. All of 51 was there waiting for news on Otis. Poor guy had been shot in that call where Sylvie had ducked haphazardly to avoid the bullets flying around, landing on her left shoulder.

"You flinched."

She glances at Stella next to her, raising an eyebrow at her fellow firefighter.

"You flinched - just now. You should really get that shoulder checked out," she advises.

"Later - I want to know how Otis is doing first," Sylvie mumbles.

It had been an hour since he went in for surgery. She tries not to relive the whole thing. She knew growing up in Chicago was dangerous but she never expected something like that ever to happen during a call. She sends a prayer upward, hoping her friend would be okay. She and Otis had known each other since their days in the Academy. By some sheer luck, she got transferred onto truck 81 two years ago, almost the same time as Stella, and the three of them together with Joe had been thick as thieves ever since. She couldn't imagine a life without Otis.

The sliding doors open up, drawing everyone's attention. They glance as Connor Rhodes walks into view. They all stand up, walking towards the trauma surgeon.

"Otis is going to be fine," he announces, "it's going to be a long road to recovery but with rigorous physical therapy, he should be able to get back to work in a few months."

Sylvie breathes a sigh of relief as everyone around he rejoice at the good news. They were going to have to deal with a floater for a few months but Otis would be back in no time.

Stella pokes her in the shoulder.

"Ouch," she lets out unintentionally, shooting daggers at Stella.

"Time to see a doctor, Brett," Stella reminds her, "luckily we are in a hospital."

"I'll be fine," she tells Stella, brushing it off. She thinks it might just be a bruise forming. She'll ask one of the paramedics to check on it when they get back to the firehouse. Foster did still owe her for introducing her Lana, the lady that ran the mobile rig command center.

"Nope - you are coming with me."

Stella grabs her by her suspenders, walking purposefully towards the ED entrance.

"Hey!"

Stella doesn't relent. She asks Maggie, the charge nurse, if any doctors were available to check on Sylvie quickly. She explains the situation and the nurse nods, calling over a doctor Sylvie didn't recognize. He was tall, had broad shoulders, sandy blonde hair and warm, blue eyes.

Honestly, he was very handsome.

Objectively speaking of course.

"Dr. Casey, Brett here needs her shoulder checked," Maggie informs him, handing him an iPad.

He smiles at her, "sure - bay 3 free?"

"All yours."

As Stella bids Sylvie a quick goodbye, she nudges the blonde firefighter, "bet you're thanking me now, huh?"

She blushes, pushing Stella away, rolling her eyes when the other firefighter snickers in response.

Her cheeks redden even more when she realizes Dr. Casey observe the whole interaction.

"Sorry," she says, twisting her watch band absentmindedly.

He shakes his head, "nothing to be sorry about."

He leads her to a bay, asking her to take a seat on the bed as he closes the curtains.

"Can you tell me what happened?" He asks, glancing down at his iPad, pushing a few buttons before looking up once more, sending her a soft, encouraging smile.

She doesn't know what makes her spill her guts to the doctor. Somehow, he males her feel at ease immediately, a certain calmness washing over her at being in his presence. Maybe it was how he was looking at her, like he genuinely cared about what she was going to say.

Yeah, maybe it was the solemn yet attentive expression on his face.

Did she mention he was handsome? That look made him 10 times even more handsome.

Gosh. She really didn't need to thirst over the new doctor. He was just doing his job.

She recounts the whole ordeal, realizing it as the first time she was speaking it out loud since this morning. She tells him about how it was just a routine call - they were firefighters and were used to putting out fires only this time, there was a room that had guns in it that apparently were semi automatic and rigged to fire at random. She and Otis were in the room searching for victims. She managed to call a warning and duck behind the bed, causing the trouble with her shoulder, but Otis wasn't so lucky.

Unintentionally, she lets it slip how terrified she was for Otis, of potentially losing another person she loved in the line of duty, how she tried to remember what was taught at the Fire Academy about applying pressure to wounds while waiting for what felt like forever for the paramedics to show up, how she was glad that Otis would be alright.

"I'm really sorry," she tells him sheepishly, "you don't need to hear all this."

He shakes his head once more, eyes full of understanding, "don't apologize. You do need to talk about things like that. It can be heavy dealing with it alone. I get it."

She smiles softly at him. It was like she was talking to someone she had known for years. He was right too. Firefighters were often tough but Sylvie knew mental health and emotional well being should be their priorities too, especially with how hard their line of work could be - not all calls resulted in rescues. There were grim days when they became recoveries.

"Thank you, Dr. Casey," she says earnestly.

"Nah - no need to thank me."

He asks if it was okay for her to pull up her top so he could check on her shoulder more closely. She nods, thinking nothing of it until it dawns on her. She tries not to blush again because today she chose to wear the one lacy bra she had in her underwear drawer.

Hey, it was the only one left because laundry day isn't scheduled until tomorrow.

She pulls up her grey shirt carefully as the doctor slips on a pair of surgical gloves. She tries hard not to look at him. She's sure he's seen a lot of women in their undergarments.

Darn it. She didn't mean that.

She meant at the hospital, of course, while examining them - for medical purposes only.

He begins to slowly knead the portion of Sylvie's shoulder that she pointed was the place she thinks she landed on. He does it carefully, clinically like any good doctor would. Curiosity getting the better of her, she chances a glance at him, noticing how his own cheeks seem to have reddened. When their eyes meet, he averts his gaze, clearing his throat.

"Doesn't feel dislocated," he tells her lowly, "but there may be some bruising or swelling so I suggest icing it whenever you can so it'll heal faster."

"Got it," she says as she lowers her top, smoothing it out, "thanks doc."

He smiles at her, "in case you feel any pain after a week, feel free to swing by. I can check on you shoulder or write your script for some pain meds."

She nods, swinging her legs back and forth, "thank you again - not just for checking me out but for listening too."

Few people were good listeners in her option and Dr. Casey was definitely a good one, especially since she unloaded so much about the day to him.

"No worries," he states, one hand going to the back of his neck, awkwardly massaging it, like he was debating something internally.

She wonders briefly if the tiny hint of a connection she felt wasn't all in her head.

When doesn't speak, she swallows down a bit of her own disappointment.

"Right."

They stare at each other for a few seconds. She's unsure of what to do and he doesn't seem to know too.

She clears her throat, jumping off the bed, pointing towards the door, "I, uh, I should get back to everyone. Thank you again, Dr. Casey."

"Call me Matt," he blurts out before his eyes go wide, like he couldn't believe he just sad that.

She lets out a laugh, "call me Sylvie then."

He grins.

"I'll see you around, Matt," she states before turning around to leave.

She pulls back the curtain, taking a step out of the room when she hears him call out to her.

She turns back around, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Here's my card," he says, handing her a calling card, "feel free to call me if you want to schedule an appointment."

She takes the card from him, glancing at it before tucking it into her turnout pants pocket. She nods at him.

He seems to be debating something internally again.

"Or feel free to call if you need anyone to talk to - anytime."

She furrows her eyebrows at him, not quite sure what to make of it. Was he offering to be her therapist or something? It was sweet of him to offer but she already had a therapist she loved.

"Thanks," she says, "I'll keep that in mind."

He frowns, signaling for her to not walk away just yet.

"Jesus, this is coming out all wrong," he grumbles.

"What is?"

"I, uh, I was hoping to ask you out for a drink," he states before smiling shyly at her.

Her heart leaps to her throat at his words. Guess he felt it too.

She smiles, "there's a bar called Molly's. It's owned by a few firefighters from 51. I'm usually there off shift. I'll text you the address."

She sees his shoulder visibly relax, "great. I'll see you there."

He claps his hands awkwardly but it makes Sylvie laugh. She thinks about how adorable and completely dorky he was being, endearing himself further to Sylvie.

"I'll see you there," she confirms.

As she's walking back towards the rest of her house, she thinks that maybe she'll buy Stella a drink for pushing her to get checked out. Something tells her getting a date out of it with someone who seemed sweet and genuine was just the tip of the iceberg.

[storfulsten]

Whitty And Bf Personality Swap? Lovely Art By The Way, Truly Inspiring. ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

hm I guess k, not feeling the most creative but here lol

idk lol

mostly based on this bc idk thought the vibes looked fitting in theory lmao:

[enbysiriusblack]

i bet you think about me is so regulily fr

[aberooski]

I love my gx winx au and I love that it's just bits and pieces of me being like oh that's fun and not having any semblance of lore or plot. It's purely contained to the character designs I've drawn for the girls.

[greyias]

Tagged by: @captainderyn -- thank you for the tag! Tagging: @meanbihexual, @keldae, @queen-scribbles (no pressure!) From the little au that could...

—

Valkorion had looked down at his progeny with ill-disguised contempt, lightning dancing at the tips of his fingers as he attempted to silence what he saw as the only threat in the room. He didn’t even look up until the cold barrel of a blaster buried itself at the base of his skull.

Which brought Theron back to where he wasn’t supposed to be.

Here.

Standing in someone else’s moment, stepping into a destiny that wasn’t his, and about to set into motion a cascade of events he had no hope of understanding. He was a disgraced spy. A Jedi washout. The Force-blind son of someone else’s greatness. A man always destined to live in the shadow of others.

“Do you really think that pathetic toy will hurt me?”

[sluturu]

GAG ON IT .ᐟ — N. KENTO ୨‧₊˚✩

about. the only thing you want more than anything in the world is to get your boyfriend off but… you don't know how. luckily, nanami kento is a great teacher.

pairing. nanami kento x f!reader (non-sorcerer au)

wc. 2.6k

cw. dom!nanami, sub!virgin reader, (messy) oral (m. receiving), humiliation kink (if you squint), reader has a heavy praise kink, f!masturbation, pet names, face f!cking + deepthroating, head-pusher nanamin <3, slight angst (again, if you squint), reader is kinda insecure about lack of experience, lots of praise and validation ♡

kit’s note. hi, i'm (sorta) new here so pls forgive my writing and any mistakes... i haven't written in, like, 84 years and this really wasn’t supposed to be as long as it is. nonetheless, i hope u enjoy my very first jjk fic — kit ୨ৎ

nanami kento was one sexually experienced man. 

you knew this. from the very first glance, it was undeniable. something in the way he carried himself, the gravity of his presence, told you—no, assured you—that he would unravel you, reshape you, and leave his mark in ways you couldn’t yet comprehend.

and, of course, you were correct.

you, however, were his perfect contradiction, a stark contrast that bled into everything you had built together, evident in every moment, every choice, every collision of your worlds.

nanami was your first boyfriend, and while school had offered its version of ‘sex education’ and the internet had no shortage of explicit material, none of it had ever translated into real experience—well, until him.

you’ve been turned on before, no doubt about it. you’ve given yourself a few weak orgasms with an amazon vibrator, sure. but the carnal desire you got when nanami was around was a feeling you’d never experienced before. how could a man be so hot and sweet and turn you on without even trying? he was perfect. beyond perfect. 

and he was respectful. always so respectful. he wanted your first time to be everything you’ve ever dreamed of because he knows that’s what everyone deserves– it’s what you, above all, deserve. that’s why he decided to take it slow regardless of his personal desires. 

it started with soft pecks. the teeny tiny ones that had you aching for more. those slowly led to real kisses, his tongue seeking solace in your mouth, roaming and exploring the new territory. then came the make out sessions, him leaving love bites on your neck while you rocked yourself against him subconsciously. which finally verged on him eating you out with his thick, long fingers fucking in and out of your cunt. 

he was amazing– so mind-boggling that you couldn’t make sense of it. while you knew that he knew what he was doing, it had you appalled. he could make you cum one, two, three times in one sitting and you’ve never even heard of anything like this in your friends’ sex lives. 

there was one miniscule problem with nanami, though. when you would ask if he needed help with the big… issue in his pants, he’d brush you off with a “don’t worry about me, sweetheart,” like the gentleman he is.

the more and more he refused your helping hand, the worse you felt. why should you be the only one that gets to feel good? especially when it’s at the hand of someone as compassionate and caring as nanami. 

the insecurities had been festering within you for a while now. all you wanted was for him to feel good. you wanted him to have the same toe-curling experiences that he gives you. you wanted him to cum for you, because of you.

you’d hoped that one day, he might ask you for help to get him off, yet that day never came. 

it’s why you decided to take matters into your own hands, asking him to come over to your apartment and dropping to your knees the second he entered your home. you gave him the biggest doe eyes and pout you could muster. 

he was stunned, mouth ajar and eyes widened. you’re not usually so bold with him, which was fine. admittedly, he always thought your aversion to talking about sexual things was kinda cute. 

still awestruck after a minute, he breathily asks, “sweetheart, wh-what are you…” 

“well, ken, i’ve been thinking about you and me a lot lately and i realized… you’re always so giving… ‘n you’re always taking such good care of me.” you shyly trail off him as your hands itched to touch him… to take his cock into your hands– into your mouth. “i wanna take care of you now, if you’d let me?”

“you don’t have to do that, my love. i do those things because i want to, not because i have to. you should know that.” he says, airly. a voice that you’ve only ever heard a handful of times. one that makes your cunt pulse. 

“i know. i jus’ want you to use my mouth, ken. you’re… you’re always making me feel good,” you beg with your eyes. “wanna make you feel good, too.”

“oh, baby,” he smiles softly at you, hand cupping your cheek while his finger brushes over the pout on your lips. “but you always make me feel good.” 

you slightly open your mouth allowing his thumb to enter. your lips wrap around his finger, eyes fluttering close and a broken, needy moan sounding in your throat. you suck the way you’d actually suck him off, hand coming to wrap around his wrist while your tongue swirls around him.

nanami holds back his moan at the sight of you crazed and depraved. he’s seen you needy before but never to this degree. never so eager to please.

“fuck,” he muttered to himself, slipping his thumb out of your mouth and smearing your saliva over your lips. he pulls your bottom lip down, “you want it that bad, princess?”

 you nodded, “please— so bad, kento.” 

and he could never say no to you. especially not when you’re giving him teary eyes and that voice. 

so he nods, unbuttoning his pants and pulling the zipper down. the sound alone excites you, yet you can’t help but feel the apprehension of being face to face with his cock. 

nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight before you. while you’d felt him through his pants during your messy makeout sessions, his intimidating size exceeded your expectations by a mile. you accepted the challenge, nonetheless. 

and now, here you were struggling to take his cock down your throat. and while he’d been praising you like crazy, you knew good and well he wasn’t getting off anytime soon. it’s when he suggested eating you out instead, you knew that your attempts were futile.

“you wanna try again, baby?” nanami coos softly as he strokes the top of your head. “we can stop if you wanna… i can eat that pretty pussy instead, i don’t mind at all.” the suggestion makes your heat throb but you shake your head incessantly. you can do this.

you look up at him through your wet lashes and he twitches in your dainty hand. “i wanna make you cum for once.” the words tumble out of your swollen lips in a mutter. 

he frowns, hands coming back to your cheeks, only this time, the pads of his thumbs meet the wet, heated skin, brushing away the remainder of your tears.

you might be too good for him. you don’t even know how many times the thought of you alone has gotten nanami off. you don’t know how many cold showers he’s had to take, how much self-control it takes to be around you.

he sighs, squishing your face and forces you to look up at him. “alright, sweetheart, open wide for me, yeah? i’ll guide you.” his hands force you to nod. your heart skips a beat and the kaleidoscope of butterflies swarm wildly in your stomach. 

you oblige almost immediately, parting your lips, ready to (try and) take him again. 

“‘kay, we’re gonna go slow. remember to breathe through your nose– and no teeth.” he instructs and you’re nodding, wrapping your pretty lips around his gorgeous length. “i’ll let you lead, you can move your head down a little more when you’re ready, yeah?”

nanami sharply exhales when he feels the warmth of your mouth. heat spreads through his toned body like a wildfire– you drive him crazy. 

even more crazy when you suddenly remember what you’ve seen in the pornos your friends forced you to watch. you look up at him through your lashes, letting your tongue swipe against the slit of his cock. “fuck, that’s it, sweet girl. use that tongue.”

you don’t know why, but the whispered curse that slips from his plump lips– lips that are raw from the way he can’t stop gnawing at them– has you arching into him. your cunt is begging for friction, so much so that it has you weeping. your eyes and your pussy. 

his praise spurs you on and you push your head down some more. it makes you gag, yes, but you remember what he said, breathing heavily through your nose. you’re already crying and looking back up to see his face contorted in pleasure has you taking him deeper and deeper. you need more of these reactions– you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything more, but that could be the need to please clouding your judgment. 

nanami can’t resist the urge to fuck your cute little face when you look at him like that. the tears… the big, wide eyes trying to keep contact with his eyes… the way you look like a complete, utter mess all for him. 

he moves his hands to dig into your hair before pushing you some more. the tip of his cock gets lodged in your tight throat and he loses it when he feels you attempting to swallow around him.

he throws his head back and lets out an echoing moan. “you’re suuuch a good girl. take my cock so well, pretty. ‘m so p-proud of you.” he praises. “so good f’me, aren’t you?” 

you choke, letting the tears fall without an ounce of shame, but you nod with your mouth full of cock. you could care less about the way he’s actively bruising your throat, you’re making him feel good… and that makes you feel good. so good that you’re subtly fucking the air in hopes your boyfriend doesn’t notice.

“yeaaah, you are…” he hums, looking back down at you, taking him like the good girl you are. of course he notices you, he has a keen eye for these things. “aw, look at you. so needy… ‘s sucking me off getting you hot ‘n bothered?”

you whine in agreement, vibrating him to his core. you choke at the words, spluttering all over his cock creating bubbles of saliva at the base. his hands tug on your hair, pulling you off and it leaves you heaving, soft sobs ripping from your throat. 

“tell me, sweetheart. i wanna make sure my girl is always satisfied.” he demands in a somewhat authoritative tone.

“k-ken, don’t care ‘bout that– i-i wan’ you to cum,” you practically beg to have him back in your mouth, but his hands in your hair hold you still. 

he shakes his head, “uh-uh, none of that. go ahead and play with yourself for me, just like i taught you. you remember that, don’t you, my love?” 

he makes your head nod again, his cock throbbing at the sight of your drool covering the entirety of your chin. 

you let out a shaky breath as your hand moves from his muscular thigh to the waistband of your shorts. as you slip inside, your fingers find your desperate clit, rubbing it in circles the way he taught you. “k-ken, pl-please,” you moan.

he shudders, stomach flipping and cock twitching eagerly like he’s some teenager who’s never been touched. “please what, pretty girl?” he asks, his attempts to mask his neediness were vain and it was starting to show. 

“please, fuck my face, kento. ple–” your words are muffled by nanami shoving his cock back into your mouth. 

he lets his composure fly out the window, the guttural groan he’s been keeping down comes out loud– loud enough to make your eyes widen. “g-god, sweetheart– you’re… you’re gonna drive me–” he pushes your head down, squeezing his eyes shut as you swallow around him again. “insane. fuck, you’re so good, so good for me– fuck, baby, you’re making me feel so good.” 

nanami knows he’ll probably regret rambling like this later, but, unbeknownst to him, it has you rubbing your clit like your life depends on it. messy circles over the unduly sensitive bud while he thrusts into your mouth with just as much vigor. 

you gag and gag and the only thing it does is make nanami whine. he will definitely hate himself later for losing his self control, but right now? he’s madly in love with you and he’s showing it by giving you exactly what you want. pounding his cock into your mouth, using your face just like you asked. 

your eyes roll and brows furrow in ecstasy, the now-familiar knot in your tummy forms with zeal. 

“sweetheart– ugh, forgive me.” he moans, voice cracking handsomely. “fuck, baby. ‘m gonna cum– y-you’re making it so hard to hold back.” 

why would you want him to? that’s the exact opposite of what you want. you try to relay that by snaking your free hand to the back of his thigh and pulling him towards you. 

he hears your actions loud and clear and, before you know it, you feel the ribbons of seed painting your throat as his cock twitches uncontrollably. 

the groans that leave his mouth are sinful. you’ve never heard him sound like this in the entirety of your time together— so unhinged and feral. you find that what’s coming out of his mouth might be your favorite sound ever and it’s definitely become your favorite side of him. the side of nanami where he’s the complete opposite of his otherworldly, chivalrous self. the gentleman you’ve grown to know and love is a hungry, filthy, masked freak and you fear that you’ve just released a beast upon you. not that you mind in the slightest. the thought only excites you further.

“god, you’re such a good fucking girl,” he says through gritted teeth. “so pretty and perfect, all for me. my good girl.” 

your fingers work faster at the praise and your muffled whimpers grow louder. all the while, your mouth overflows with his heavy load and you feel it beginning to leak from the corners of your lips. 

once nanami notices, he pulls himself out of your mouth and you cough, choking over the exorbitant amounts of cum in attempts to swallow all of it. 

“k-ken,” you heave, your voice hoarse. your fingers are still rubbing at your clit, uncoordinated, yet it’s getting the job done. “did i do okay?” 

nanami’s still coming down from his mind blowing orgasm, chest huffing and puffing, but when he hears you seeking validation, he’s on his knees before you in an instant. 

his hand slips in your panties and finds yours, your nimble fingers toying with your bud. 

“so well. now c’mere,” he mutters. his fingers guide yours— he’s simply moving yours for you— and his other hand comes to cup your cheek. hungry for a taste, he slams his lips against yours, tongue invading your mouth despite the fact that he just came in it. 

his fingers move yours faster and faster and you don’t even realize he’s pushing yours aside to take over. 

you’re so weak when it comes to him. with him tonguing your mouth and his fingers working you, it’s no wonder you're coming undone in less than a minute.

you moan a mantra of his name into his, your body going taut as the knot in your tummy unravels. 

he lets you ride it out, playing with your cunt till your shaky hands wrap around his wrist and you pull his hand away. 

he moves his lips to your cheek, trailing wet pecks all the way to your ear. he whispers in your ear, tugging on the lobe with his teeth.

“i might be addicted to your pretty little mouth, sweetheart.”

© all works belong to SLUTURU 2025. do not copy or repost.

[shellshocklove]

moanin' & groanin' | logan howlett

pairing/AU: lumberjack!logan howlett/wolverine x inexperienced!female!reader

summery: working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad – especially when he can teach you a thing or two.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap (in the way that his mutant abilities prolongs his life), swearing, use of pet names, smut, car sex, praise, a little dacryphilia, logan's got a dirty mouth, soft dom!logan, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), handjob, fingering, a little manhandling, unprotected sex (don't do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: um hi! this is my first ever logan fic. i really hope i got him right! not beta read, and barely edited so any mistakes are my own. happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The pages crinkled under your fingertips as you turned another page. Over the top of your book you could see your father's men milling about, getting the timber ready for another outgoing truck. Day in and day out they worked like flannel-covered ants. 

He wasn't here, your father, leaving you to hold down the fort, or office to be precise, as he  ran errands. "I'll be back before lunch," he'd told you, a hand passing through the sleeve of his tan Carhartt.

The office felt bigger when he wasn't here, like his neuroticism took up twice as much space as he did himself. You looked around the room. It was small, more like a hut than anything else, raised up on cinderblocks. A tiny kitchen lined the front wall, the refrigerator had given out once this month already and something smelled like it had died in there, the white florescent light under the wall cabinets gave you a headache, and the tap drip drip dripped. The table and the mismatched chairs, your father had found at a fleamarked years ago, before you were born most likely, and they wore the wear and tear of years of use. 

Every available surface was covered in papers, and the wooden shelves on the wall dipped in the middle from the weight of the binders. When you were little you'd been afraid the wood would break in two, but they were still standing (hanging?) – maybe they'd stay like that for the rest of eternity for all you knew. Your father's office had only one desk, which made your job as occasional office manager and full-time problem solver, problematic. 

Your father would sit in his chair on one side, while you'd steal one of the mismatched chairs and occupy the other end. If you'd had your way, you wouldn't be working here. The timber business interested you just as much as your father was interested in the disco they played on the radio. "If it ain't the king of rock I don't want to hear it," he usually said and switched the channel. 

But the town was small, and no one was hiring. The summer after you'd finished high school you'd dreamt of moving to the city, but the money had been tight and your father needed you. At least the work, if your father didn't meddle, was relatively easy: answer the phone, type out the invoices and salaries, keep an eye on logistics, and make sure whatever breaks gets fixed. 

The radio hummed at a low volume, one of the singles from Tapestry, as you turned another page of your book. Leaning back in your father's office chair, you glanced at the clock over the door. He should be back by now. Just as the thought crossed your mind, the door swung open.

"Did you need something?" you asked, your book dipping down in your lap. 

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as he walked into the office on heavy steps, that damn cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "Nice to see you too, princess," he poked jokingly, tugging at his gloves, one finger at a time, and tucking them into his leather belt. 

He sported the same outfit he usually wore; bootcut jeans, a white t-shirt under his flannel and a thicker wool-lined jacket. He must've been sweating in here with that on.

Autumn had claimed the trees and ground months ago, but this morning the frost had covered the ground and bit at the apples of your cheeks. Your breath had come out in swirling plumes when you'd locked yourself in this morning; the first glints of the sun peeking through the windows as it rose over the mountains. The first thing you'd done was crank the heater, and now as you approached midday, you'd shed your sweater long ago while the windows had fogged with condensation. 

The smallest of frowns tugged at your brows, as a heat prickled up your neck to your cheeks. Logan made you a little nervous– not in a bad way, but in a way where your thoughts would wander in his presence, conjuring up scenarios of him and yourself in… comprising positions. Okay, maybe it was in a bad way. But who could blame you when he walked around like that?

He'd arrived only a few months ago, at the tail end of the summer, looking for work. He was strong, stronger than any of the other men working for your father, and although the work was hard, it seemed like he never tired. You didn't know much about him and he kept mostly to himself, hidden away in a cabin up in the mountain, but sometimes you'd see him down at the local bar, nursing a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. More than once you'd seen him chatting up Kayla Silverfox, and more than once you'd wished it was you in her place.

"Oof," Logan groaned as he opened the fridge, grabbing his packed lunch and closing it as fast as he could. You appreciated him for that; whatever had died in there should stay in there.

"Yeah," you said, "I'm not cleaning that again, not even for a million bucks."

"Can't blame ya." 

He looked to the table for a second where the guys usually ate their lunches, before he decided to take your usual chair at your father's desk. As he sat down, you pushed the ash tray to his side of the desk, earning you a short smile in thanks as he rested his cigar. It wasn't unusual for him to talk to you on his breaks. 

So, why did you heart beat so fast in your chest?

Because it was the first time you'd been alone.

"So, where's your old man?" he asked and bit into the sandwich he'd packed in an old newspaper.

"Running errands– he should be back soon…" you trailed off.

Logan hummed non-committedly. "So, you're in here sittin' pretty readin' your book while we're out in the cold slavin' away– maybe I should become the boss' daughter."

"Well, it's not easy," you sighed, feigning confidence, "and you gotta be pretty first of all," you front teeth dug into your bottom lip as you tried to hide your nervousness.

"That's true," he grinned, "I ain't got nothin' on you, princess."

Logan held your gaze with intent, and it was like something in the air shifted. It happened sometimes with Logan, like he had this power beaming from him that sucked you in. Erratic wings fluttered in your stomach, and you had to drop your gaze.

"So, how's the book?" he asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Eh," you shrugged, dog-earing the page your were on, before throwing the beat-up paperback on the table. "Too many plot twists– first they're on earth, then there's this virus spreading– so they have to move all of humanity to the moon, but then there's this species that lives under the surface of the moon who they start a war with, but one of the main characters are in love with a moonie– that's what they call them– so, now they're in love and trying to stop the war and…" you shrugged again.

Logan chewed slowly as he nodded his head. "Sounds complicated," he decided, making you let out a small laugh.

"I guess so."

A grin washed over Logan's face at your small laugh, and you felt his gaze roll over you, over your exposed skin. When he looked at you like that, like a predator drooling for a meal, you felt a small damp spot stick to your panties. You watched as his nostrils widened, his jaw clenching shut as a pulsing vein protruded from his neck.

"So, science fiction," he started, clearing his throat, "Didn't know you liked that," he continued between the last bites of his sandwich

"Some kid at the library recommended it," you shrugged, "so I thought I'd try it out. And it's not like it's that far from the truth– we've got mutants."

Logan crumbled the newspaper hard and quick, the sharp sound making you jump. "Yeah," he said, and stood to his feet, "That's true."

He grabbed his burnt out cigar, and threw the ball of newspaper in the trash. You started to wonder if you'd said something wrong, but then he said, "Your father's back," and not even a second later you could see your dad's old truck pull up outside the window.

How did he even know that? 

"Logan– wait," the words just fell out of your mouth before you could even think them through. He hovered by the door, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. 

You could be brave– Just say it! 

"Come by later would you? Before you leave for the day– I have something for you."

A gush of cold air blew in with the arrival of your father. He almost crashed right into Logan on his way out, nearly knocking him down the wooden steps. You thought you could glimpse a small nod from Logan, but he was out the door so fast you couldn't be sure. 

The rest of the day went by slowly as a growing anxiety gnawed at your neck. With your dad back you slipped out to borrow the car, driving into town to pick up some lunch at the local diner. It was routine at this point, something you did without thinking, but today your thoughts couldn't stay still. You were pulling up outside the office when you realized you'd driven the whole way with the radio off.

What was even your plan? 

You wished you were better at this. You could pretend, sure, put on a brave face to hide the nerves from surfacing, but how do you get a man like that to go for a girl like you?

You felt non the wiser when the sun had dipped below the mountains and he finally knocked on the office door. Your dad had left thirty-minutes earlier, stranding you at work with no way to get home. 

If this didn't go well, you didn't look forward to walking home.

"What 's it you wanted, princess," Logan asked, leaning against the frame of the door with one knee popped. Your eyes couldn't help but run down the length of him – his broad shoulders, the bulge hidden below his big belt buckle, and the veins of his exposed arms as he slung his jacket over his shoulder.

"Oh, um," you tried to shake your thoughts, and you rummaged the desk for the envelope. "Here," you said as you found it, stretching your hand out for him to take it.

He pushed off the door frame with a raised eyebrow, the cold air from the open door taking with it the warmth of the office. "What's this?" he questioned, taking the envelope from your hand. 

"It's your check– for this month's work," you explained.

His raised eyebrow pulled into a frown, "This is a week early," he questioned, "and I usually get these sent in the mail."

"Oh, I-I just thought I'd give it to you personally this time," you lied, fitting a shrug at the end for good measure, trying to sell how completely normal and nonchalant you were.

Logan raised a skeptic eyebrow at you, and you suddenly felt really really stupid. In your chest your heart could compete with a hummingbird's.

"Really?" he said with a smile before he dropped his chin, "Can I appreciate a little extra something in here, or…?" he trailed off, waving the envelope.

Letting out a shaky inaudible breath, you tried in your flirtiest voice, "Maybe if you give me a ride home…"

...................

The lights from the town below looked like stars scattered over the night sky, the yellow light of the roads connected them like on a string. You knew that Logan knew where you lived; the town was small, and even with the short time he'd spent here, it wasn't hard to get familiar. He'd stopped at the lookout point, about half-way up the mountain road. It was nice in the daytime, with a nice view of the town, the mountain and rivers, but at night it attracted a different kind of crowd: lovers. It was cheesy, and cliché, but clichés were clichés for a reason. 

The Led Zeppelin tape whirled, and the music stopped. 

Suddenly you felt nervous, fingers picking at a loose tread on your sweater. Logan leaned forward to flip the cassette, and his truck filled with a sound of organ, like you were back in church. When he leaned back he slung his arm over your seat. You watched how he spread his legs, getting comfortable, as his eyes found your face.

Under the wool, your heart picked up its beat.

In a brave move you shifted closer, the leather seat moaning under you, as a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His big palm snaked around your shoulder, curling you closer to him until his lips caught your own. You only hesitated for a second before your hand found his neck, where your fingers tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

A low growl huffed against your lips, and he deepened the kiss, pressing himself roughly against you as he licked into your mouth. You couldn't help the small whimper escaping you. His touch was rough, almost impatient, but tender all at the same time, and you felt yourself fall apart.

The air stuck to your skin, clammy and sticky with arousal and now you started to get impatient. With a loud smack you broke apart, your lips raw and spent from use as you caught your breath. A rough hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb skated gently over your skin as he tilted your head towards him.

"Such a pretty little thing," he mused. His eyes had gone dark, pupils huge and filled with lust; yours must've looked about the same as they rolled down his body. He shifted closer to you, pushing you closer to the door, and you got a better view of the bulge hidden behind his jeans.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, clogging up the sounds around you like you were underwater, pushing at your thoughts at the back of your mind. Logan moved with such ease, each touch natural and easy, like he'd done them a thousand times. Not like you, with only your short-lived high school boyfriend under your belt. 

"Hey," he shook your head gently, "Where you goin', bub?"

"I'm sorry," you whispered, a heat coating the apples of your cheeks. 

He shook his head, his face surprisingly tender for someone so rough, "Tell me, baby."

"I'm just…" you trailed of, trying to find your words, "I'm a little nervous– I haven't done this much," you said, avoiding his gaze.

"That's sweet, bub." The pad of his thumb rubbed the pet name into your skin as he leaned forward to catch your lips in a soft kiss, "But I wouldn't worry that pretty little head of yours 'bout it."

His breath was hot against your own, and an ache started to spread between your legs. The hand on your cheek travelled downwards to tug at your jacket, and you parted only for a second to rid yourself of it, but before you could lock your lips with his again he grabbed at your hands.

"I'll teach ya," he told you and guided your hands to his broad form. 

He let you touch him as he shucked off his jacket, your fingers dancing over the soft flannel. He was solid beneath your fingers, hard muscles from hard work. A patch of dark hair curled at his chest, peeking out beneath his white shirt, and you found yourself wondering where it lead.

Curling his hand around your wrist, he guided your hand lower; down over his chest where you could feel the solid form of him. His bronze belt buckle burned you like ice, but the heat of him as he pressed your hand to the hard bulge beneath the buckle burned even brighter.

"You feel that?" He looked you straight in the eyes. He pressed your hand down harder and you could feel the shape of him against your hand, hard and thick, and big. You barely managed a nod through the wave of heat coating your cheeks. 

"That's because of you, princess." His voice was low, almost like a growl, as he started to guide your hand to rub over the thick length.

"Me?" you questioned, breathless. 

"Yes, you," he chuckled, a heavy hand petting at your head. "D'you want to take it out? Stroke it f'me?"

"Please," you begged, looking at him with moony eyes through your lashes.

"So polite f'me," he mused, his hands tugging at his belt before he popped the button on his jeans. Slipping off your shoes, you crawled up into the seat, sitting back on your knees as you watched him pull at his jeans. Peeking out from under the denim, you could see a dark patch of hair.

Logan was in no rush, revealing only an inch at a time of the base of his cock, making a show of it as the tension rose. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you, and it made you brave, reaching a trembling hand forward, you helped him tug at the fabric.

At last his cock sprung free.

You felt your eyes widen at the sight, as you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together. Even with your limited experience, you knew he was bigger than most. The thick length of his cock bobbed from the weight, hanging heavy between his legs. At the tip of his fat head, a drop of precum pearled, almost invisible in the dark truck. 

"Come here, bub." He widened his legs as he reached out a strong arm for you, curling you into his shoulder. 

"Put your hand on it," he ordered, "like this," he grabbed at your wrist and guided you hand towards his mouth. You let him move you around, eyes blown out and wide as you couldn't take your eyes off his impressive cock. 

A wet blob of spit pulled you from your thoughts, it drew the slightest frown over your face until he guided your palm, now coated in his spit, to his cock.

Under your palm his skin was silky soft, but hard and firm at the same time. You found yourself mesmerized at the sight of your hand around him as you familiarized yourself with the heaviness of him in your hand. 

"There ya go–" he cut himself off with a groan as you formed a fist around the head of him. Your fingers struggled to reach around him, but it didn't seem like Logan minded much when you moved downwards smearing his spit over his shaft in an experimental tug. 

"That's it, good girl, just like that."

A warmth bloomed in your chest at the praise, wrapping itself around your heart. You wanted him to say it again– to be good for him. So, you reached forward with your other hand, wrapping it around the base as the other formed a fist around the head. Another pearl of precum beaded at the tip, and you took the opportunity to skate your thumb over it, massaging it into his spit.

A growl seemed to get caught in Logan's throat, and still riding off your high that the praise had sown in you, you started to pump his cock in slow strokes. A slick sound escaped under your fists with each stroke, and you watched how his head fell back in pleasure.

"Am-am I doing it right?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

At the sound of your voice, Logan sat up straighter, a heavy hand falling over your back to pull you closer. "You're a natural, princess."  

You couldn't contain the smile from coating your lips as he brought you in for another searing kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. It clouded your mind, and you forgot what your hands were supposed to be doing. 

Logan's hand travelled down your body, his big palm grabbing at your ass. "Take of your pants," he ordered against your lips, "Panties too," underlining his order with a couple of light slaps to the flesh.

Shuffling out of his hold, you fingered at the button of your pants, pulling at them and your panties as quickly as you could. Goosebumps prickled over your exposed skin, the air suddenly frosty without Logan's touch – but that didn't last long.

The calloused pads of his fingers trailed up your thighs, pressing down into the flesh as he pulled you closer to him. "Come sit in my lap, princess."

He didn't wait for you to move, instead he manhandled you how he wanted. Spreading his legs wide apart he fit you between his legs, your back pressed against his hot chest with his hard and leaking cock caged against your ass. 

"I'm gonna touch you now, baby, okay?" his deep voice whispered in your ear.

"Okay," you peeped, heart pounding in your ears at this new proximity. 

He spread your legs, putting your wet and neglected cunt on display, hooking them over his knees. When his palms danced over your inner thighs, you felt yourself sink deeper into his chest, deeper into the safe scent of pine and man. 

"Need to get you ready f'me, bub– stretch this tight cunt out for my big cock," he cooed.

You ached for him, a sticky wet feeling between your legs as you wished so badly for him to finally touch you. His touch was light, but teasing, drawing circles along the thin flesh, circling closer and closer to where you needed his touch the most, before he pulled away. 

"Please," you whined, grabbing at his arm.

His breath felt hot against your neck, and you could feel the grin he pressed against your skin. He let you guide him upwards to hover his large palm over your mound, but he wouldn't let you have it. Instead, he pushed at your sweater. His hand spread across the skin beneath your belly button as prickled goosebumps followed the rough pads as they ran across your skin.

"Y'gonna feel me right here, bub?" he teased, "So deep inside your tummy?"

A whine caught in your throat and you felt like an exposed nerve. Arousal pulsated throughout your body, threatening to pull you apart unless he did something soon. Your neglected cunt dripped with an ache only he could sooth. 

"Yes, please, Logan," you whined, tears threatening to spill.

His thick beard scraped against your cheek, and you almost trembled from anticipation as he slid his hands downwards. He raked his fingers through the curls of your mound, and a gasp fell from your lips when he finally pushed at your clit.

A wide smile reached across your face when he started to circle his fingers, tight with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hips bucked to meet his touch, your cunt eager and dripping for more of him. His other arm clasped around your middle, keeping your still and steady in his lap as he had his way with you.

A bold finger dipped lower, running through your folds and teasing at you entrance. A slick sound filled the car as he played with your cunt, circling his fingers around your hole, dipping a teasing finger inside you just to the first knuckle, before withdrawing it just as quickly. 

"Such a messy pussy," Logan murmured in your ear, the deep bass of his voice vibrating into your skin. "Listen."

The sound as he played with your pussy was obscene, lewd, and so dirty you felt a heat crawl up your chest. A breathy gasp escaped you when he finally split you on his finger, and a satisfied smile coated your lips as he started to move it inside in a steady rhythm, prodding every so often at that spongy spot inside, the spot your own finger couldn't reach.

"F-feels s-so good," you managed to stutter out. 

The heel of his palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, teasing at your insides and conjuring moan after breathy moan from your lips. He guided you closer and closer to the edge, and you wanted so badly to fall. When he pulled out to slide another finger inside you, you felt a tear roll down your cheek with satisfaction.

"I can feel that pussy clenching me– you close, bub?" he poked, never stopping his fingers.

Your head rolled back, resting heavy on his shoulder as you nodded franticly, mouth parted slightly, humming out small breathy whines. You were so close, the tension in your stomach twisting and aching for release.

But then he pulled his fingers, dragging them up over your mound leaving a wet trail in your curls. You couldn't help the disappointed sigh as more tears pressed their way down your cheeks.

"Shh," he hushed you, "you're okay, bub." 

Under you, you felt him move, his strong muscles flexing as he shifted you on his lap. When you felt the blunt head of his cock slide between your folds, an eagerness came upon you. You grinded against him, making a small chuckle rumble from his chest. Logan slapped his heavy cock against your folds, coating his big cock in your slick arousal. 

The first stretch of him knocked the breath right out of you, the fat tip of him splitting you in half as he helped you guide yourself down on him. You had to remember to breathe, your hand fumbling for something to hold on to. 

"Fuck," you whimpered, eyes wide, "I-it's so big– it's t-too big."

His hand wrapped around your middle held you in place, keeping you still on his cock as you adjusted to the first inches of him inside you. 

"It's not too big, princess, you're doing so well f'me," he praised, "just a little more, bub– you can do it."

With a wet whimper you lowered yourself, taking a couple more inches of him, as Logan pressed more fluttering praise into your skin. He let you take your time, easing yourself down on him at your own pace. When your thighs were finally flushed with his, he was so deep inside you, you jolted, trying to move back up, but Logan's hands held you down. You felt him in your tummy, like he'd said, his cock reaching so deep you were shaking.

"Sit still, get used to it," he told you, as you tried to catch your breath, "You're being so good f'me."

And somehow the burning stretch of him soothed away into a pleasurable pressure, one you couldn't help but chase. With an experimental rock of your hips, you felt the fat head of him prod at your spot, making you mewl. And when you started to swivel your hips, Logan groaned in satisfaction, meeting your movement with small thrusts.

Slowly, he picked up his rhythm, strong hands shifted to dig into your hips, holding you in place for him to move you as he wished. In your ear, you heard him growl, deep and animalistic as he fucked up into you.

It didn't take long until your breath came out fast between moans as the pressure built, and built, and built. 

"Logan," you moaned, tethering right on the edge.

Another growl escaped his chest, as his strong arms hooked under your legs. He pressed them tightly to your body as he picked up his pace, bucking wildly into your eager cunt. You could feel him throb inside of you, and you couldn't help but clench at the thought of feeling him spill inside you, claiming you.

"Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged, tears streaming down your face like two winding rivers, "I-I'm gonna come."

A hand slid between your legs to rub at your puffy clit, coaxing you closer and closer with winding circles. 

"Come on my cock, baby, come all over that big cock."

It was hot, and blinding. Euphoric shocks pulsed through your body, as you fluttered and gushed around his cock. Logan's grip on your legs tightened as you shook violently with your orgasm – a million stars exploded behind your eyes.

"Oh, that's it, bub, such a good girl," he praised between heavy wet pants against your ear.    

Fucking you through your ecstasy, Logan chased his own high at a relentless pace, and all you could do was take it, reduced to a ragdoll in his hands. In your ear he muttered nonsense interlaced with praise, telling you how good you felt, and how perfect you were for him.

With a deep groan he pulled out quickly, tugging at himself until he spilled his thick spend on the truck floor. With bleary eyes you watched how it pumped in quick spurts, dripping down his hand and soiled the knuckles in his own sticky cum. 

Behind you, Logan breathed hard, nudging his nose against the column of your neck to press soft kisses to the hot skin. 

A pair of bright headlights beamed down the road, pulling you from the moment with its blinding light. Logan helped you shift off his lap, reaching to hand you your discarded clothes before he tucked himself back into his jeans. 

The cassette whirled in the car radio, and you couldn't remember when the music had stopped. Logan shifted back behind the wheel and an eerie silence grew in the distance between you.

"How 'bout I take you somewhere to eat?" he posed.

You smiled, "I could eat."

...................

hopefully this was okay? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[cj-the-random-artist]

I let them get friendship married so Narinder can get his tax benefits lol

But legitimately. I mulled this one over repeatedly for literal months. Like. Do I want them to get married in front of the cult? Should they even get married? It would be hilarious if the Goat married them and then cried at the altar the whole time, but also... that doesn't feel right, so maybe I won't do that. And then once I decided it should be a personal friendship-marriage ritual where it's just the pair of them making vows to each other, I wrote four different scripts and hated them all and ended up just pulling this one out of thin air pretty much on the spot and that was that. At one point, I wanted Lambert to basically suggest this idea and then have them get friend-married on the spot, but that didn't feel right (and it was also gonna be unreasonably long) so that's why there's no context going into this one. And the actual friend-marriage ritual is... maybe not the best designed one ever? I wanted it to in some ways be similar to like, the way I imagine a romantic marriage happening in the cult- the parties exchange vows and do rings and stuff...? (If it's not obvious, I haven't been to many weddings...) But I figured they wouldn't want an audience, or to party with the whole cult afterwards, or anything like that. I also had them kiss each other's rings as opposed to like... faces... because one of the fights I had with myself in deciding how I would want this to go was whether it would make sense for them to kiss or not. And I ultimately decided that in this AU at least they just wouldn't want to. They're also wearing the rings on their not ring fingers cuz. Honestly it just felt right that way. Based on vibes. But basically I just wanted them to exchange a vow of eternal partnership in a very casual, chill setting, because I don't picture QPR AU Narilamb doing... anything other than that.

Also this is the rest of Lambert's office, which I actually had a pretty clear vision for after my last doodle but I didn't really bother to draw before starting this comic. Maybe I should've but eh it looks good enough. Interior backgrounds are hard......

Anyways. I think I'm happy with this one? I was enamored by the concept of a chill friendship marriage, so I definitely leaned into it here. As per usual, it's not perfect, I think I could've done a lot of stuff better / differently, but honestly?? If I were to ever get friend-married I would want it to go about like this, it makes my little aroace heart happy, and I spent too long on it to not show it to anybody. Thus. Enjoy, and also happy new year cuz I totally forgot to make a post individually about that...

[taeyongdoyoung]

that's a warning

summary: your professor's age is not a problem to you. and neither is his dark secret... pairing: professor!chan x uni student!reader genre: dark academia, vampire!au, smut warnings: professor/student dynamic, age gap (unspecified), mentions of toxic friend, descriptions of blood, kissing, biting, eating out, blowjob, daddy kink (who's surprised?), ddlg implied, size kink, unprotected sex, forbidden relationship, insecurities, danger kink author's note: this is based on a dream i had + inspired by railway, obviously. read at your own risk 🥵 too many references to the song's lyrics in bold, sawrryyy word count: 3k

The moment you set your eyes on Professor Bang, you know that you need to have him. You've never felt an attraction so intense, so overpowering, so sinister in its obsession. You are willing to go to any lengths to get close to him. Even if it kills you.

It starts off innocent, almost childlike. The way you stay after his lectures to ask him silly questions (you know the answers to) about the homework. Sometimes you ask him about the location of other lecture halls (even though you've been to them hundreds of times). Sometimes you go to his office hours just to be alone with him (even though you are perfectly confident in understanding the study material).

At first, Chan accepts your incessant flood of questions with an easy-going smile. If he's being honest with himself, he likes the attention. It's been a while since someone's been that interested in talking to him. Especially someone so…young. Most students usually avoid his intense stare. He's been told it's far too intimidating. He tries to be welcoming to everyone but he's not sure he's doing a good job.

But as the semester nears its end, his patience wears thin. You always get full marks on your assignments and quizzes so he doesn't understand why you are constantly asking for his "help". And he's certain you know your way around the university better than any other student. You're always on time and your homework is flawless 100% of the time. So, he really doesn't get it. Are you messing with him? Is it funny to you to joke around with a poor old lonely professor?

Chan's decided he's had enough. And this time, when you catch him alone after the lecture, he's going to confront you.

"Cut the act," Professor Bang scolds you directly. "I know you know the answer to that question. Why are you doing this to me?"

"Doing what, Professor Bang?" you ask innocently, while batting your eyelashes.

"Pretending you're dumb. It's obvious you're a top student, so why are you always asking me stuff?" he grunts and pins you down with his intense gaze you're so addicted to.

Hell, you've never felt more terrified. It excites you.

"Don't you know already?" you mumble quietly. You want to look away but you're trapped in his beautiful dark eyes. So you don't.

"Is it fun, messing with an old man like me, huh? Is it some stupid college dare?" Chan asks, his insecurities getting the worst of him.

"You're not old," you insist passionately. "There's no dare. I just…like you."

"You…like me?" he repeats in disbelief.

You nod furiously, trying to convince him of your sincerity.

"But…why?"

"What do you mean why? You're so smart and handsome and sometimes even cute. I like…how you explain stuff like you don't think anyone is dumb, you're so patient and…warm."

Huh. Warm? It's been a while since someone's used that word to describe him, Chan thought.

"You do realize we could both get in trouble if…" he can't even believe he's even considering this. "If we were to…pursue something outside of the university walls?"

Fuck it, he said it.

"I know. I won't tell anyone, I promise," you are desperately grasping at straws as you find yourself so close to the one thing you've ever wanted more than anything.

Professor Bang shakes his head.

"I'm not asking you to keep it a complete secret. Just…if you choose to share it with people, be careful who you trust."

"I understand, Professor, I'll be careful," you promise.

"And…call me Chris or Chan or something," he shrugs. "When it's just us two."

God. It's really happening.

"Let me take you out to a restaurant," he offers suddenly. "Tomorrow evening?"

"That sounds amazing!" you grin excitedly.

Your first date with Chan arrives and you are so happy you feel like you could die. You don't wanna jinx things so soon and don't tell anyone where you're going.

"You look stunning," he compliments your dress as he pulls a chair out for you.

"Thank you so much, Chris," you smile and take a seat. "You look absolutely dashing, as always."

He chuckles but doesn't respond rightaway.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, it's just…I don't hear that much. Especially not from beautiful young women such as yourself."

"You're surely joking?" you frown. "Anyone would kill to be in my shoes right now."

"You're too kind," Chan replies, not seeming to believe your words and you decide to drop the subject. For now. "What would you like to drink?"

"Hmm…maybe some red wine?"

"Good choice," he smirks. "And food?"

"I'm really into pasta these days!" you squeal with excitement.

Chris orders for the two of you, making your heart flutter for the hundredth time. He's just…so dependable.

Till the food arrives, you busy yourselves with getting to know each other better. Outside of the university walls, it turns out you are both passionate about things other than academic endeavours. And with each glass of red, it becomes easier to share stuff about yourself with him.

As the evening nears its natural conclusion, Chan insists on paying the bill for the food and drinks.

"Now I feel bad," you pout adorably, clinging onto his arm for support, because all the wine made your legs slightly unstable. "Let's go for coffee!"

"I don't…really drink coffee," Chris confesses shyly.

"Tea, then! Please, I don't want to go home just yet. This night is so perfect, I don't want it to end."

"Okay, okay," he agrees easily.

You lead the way to one of your favourite cafés. This time, you excitedly pay for the warm beverages.

"It's snowing outside!" you marvel at the pretty snowflakes falling, illuminated by the street lights.

"Good thing we're all cozy and inside, then," Chan chuckles.

"Yeah…" you smile softly. "I really like you, Chan," you admit.

"I know, you said that a couple of times," he shakes his head, amused.

"Yes, but…you didn't say anything. Do you like me, too?" you inquire self-consciously.

"I do like you. You're very clever and funny and obviously super pretty."

"Really?" you blink furiously to stop yourself from tearing up. You don't get to hear something like that by someone you admire so much. Someone who inspires you to be as diligent and hard-working as him. Scratch that. You don't get to hear words like that very often. It sometimes strikes you how badly you need to be acknowledged for your efforts.

"You must know that."

"No, actually, I don't," you smile sadly. "But it's really nice of you to say it. True or not."

Chan stretches his hand out across the table to hold yours.

"Hey. It's true, okay?"

"Guess I'll stick around to find out, yeah? And maybe I'll help you believe it, too," you suggest.

"Maybe. I'd really like that."

And stick around you do. The next semester, Chan is no longer your Professor, so you don't have to worry so much about getting in trouble with the university's authorities. Eventually, as things start becoming more serious, you decide to share the news about your boyfriend's identity with a few of your closest friends.

Luckily, most of them are super supportive and happy about your relationship. They tell you that you've looked happier recently and are pleased to finally know the reason. There is one friend, however, who is completely against.

"I don't approve. You can't date him," she outright says.

"Can't? Excuse me?" you become aggravated. You've had some fights in the past, situations when she's been jealous of you hanging out with other friends and has done some toxic stuff behind your back. So, her reaction doesn't come as a complete surprise. But still, it sucks that she hasn't outgrown this kind of pettiness.

"He's like…too old for you. And the fact he was your Professor is just…gross."

"How can you say that? You've never even met him."

"Then, let me meet him."

"Why would you meet him if you've already made up your mind?"

"To make sure he's worthy of you, duh."

"That's my call to make. Not yours."

And with that, you leave. This is just…too much. Later, you talk to another friend about this situation to get a second opinion.

"Nah, fuck her. I mean, it's your relationship, she can't dictate how you feel or who you're seeing romantically."

"Right? That's exactly what I've been thinking."

"It sucks that she said those stuff but maybe you're better off," your other friend shrugs.

"Yeah…For the time being, I'll distance myself from her. If she starts acting like an adult, only then will I consider letting her back in."

"That's totally valid," your friend agrees. "Take your time and look after your mental health."

"Thank you so much. I knew you'd get it."

"Always!"

Soon after that, you hang out at Chan's place and you decide to talk talk to him about the falling-out with that toxic friend.

"Well, technically, I am too old for you."

"The fuck you are! Are you taking her side?" you cry out passionately.

"Hell, no! I'm just saying…you could find any college guy your age and…"

"No, shut up, Chris!" you shake your head, refusing to entertain such an idea. "I don't want anyone but you!"

"But I'm dangerous for you," Chan sighs. But you can't believe that. He's been nothing but kind and accepting in the short time you've known each other.

"What do you mean?" you ask.

"You'd think I'm crazy if I told you," he grins somewhat devilishly. "It'd be better if I showed you instead. But then, I'd have to kill you."

"W-what?" you stammer, his behaviour totally unlike the gentle guy you're used to seeing.

Suddenly, Chris grabs your wrist and starts pulling you somewhere.

"W-where are we g-going?" you ask helplessly but he doesn't respond. He's too strong to fight him back so you just try to keep up with his speed and follow him down the stairs and into the basement. Where you'll find answers to questions you didn't even know you were supposed to be asking.

When he unlocks the door, you are greeted with red. A lot of it.

"What is all this?"

"Come on, sweetheart, I thought you were smarter than that," Chris chuckles.

"It's…blood banks," you state the obvious, feeling dumber than ever.

"Wow, you don't say," Chris replies sarcastically.

"Why…why do you have all this blood in your basement? Is it like a…kink thing?!" you gasp in shock.

"No, darling, it's not a kink thing," he laughs, the idea incredibly amusing. "Take a guess."

"Are you a serial killer?" you try to think of a logical explanation.

"You're too realistic," Chris sighs. "Think…something you never thought possible."

"You're…a vampire!" you exclaim triumphantly.

"Bingo," he confirms unenthusiastically. "So, your friend was correct to worry. I am too old for you. And bad for you. I never should have let this go so far."

You shake your head.

"N-no, she's not right," you disagree. "I don't care."

"You don't care?" Chris tilts your chin up, facing you directly. "Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to restrain myself from sucking your blood dry?"

You gulp nervously but refuse to believe he'd actually do that. Especially considering he hasn't done so already…

"Why did you become a Professor surrounded by so many humans if self-control is so hard for you?" you push back cleverly.

"It's never been a problem for me to control my thirst. Until you."

"Then, why did you let me get so close?" you inquire.

"Because I was weak…And lonely. I shouldn't have let you in."

Your eyes tear up with emotion.

"Are you saying you'd be happier without me?"

"Happier?" Chris scoffs. "No, I wouldn't be happier. But you would be safer without me."

"Fuck that," you argue. "I am safe when it's just you and me. Knowing you're a vampire changes nothing about how I feel about you."

"Then, you're even more insane than I am," Chris sighs, unable to deny the growing tension between you two.

You kiss him roughly to prove him right, digging your fingers into his soft hair. He kisses you back just as hungrily, incapable of letting you go.

Yes, he may be dangerous for you. But so are you. Willingly pursuing him, not running away from him despite knowing the truth.

He grabs your hair and pulls back, exposing your neck.

"Last chance to get out of here. That's a warning," Chris whispers darkly.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" you grin, completely trusting him.

Even if he was your Professor, even if he is way older than you than you initially thought, even if he is a blood-sucking predator, there is no one else you'd trust so unconditionally, so irrevocably.

"What if I hurt you?" he asks, a hint of worry making his dark eyes glow with warmth.

"You couldn't," you insist and close your eyes, tilting your neck. "You can bite me, if you want."

"You're crazy," Chris repeats.

"I trust you," you speak your thoughts out loud.

And this is his breaking point. He attacks your neck with his sharp fangs, not wanting to hold back any longer. The bite stings but in such a sweet way you would be happy to go, if this was your fate…As he drinks from you, you weakly wrap your hands around his neck for support, needing him to ground you. Just as badly as he needed one taste from your delicious blood. If your blood is what Chris needs for survival, then he will surely be your undoing.

Somehow, against all reason, Chan manages to detach his fangs from your neck.

"Fuck," he caresses your neck, smearing the blood all over your porcelain skin. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," you murmur dazedly. "I'm okay."

He holds you close, kissing your cheeks and trying to clean up the mess he made.

"Let's get out of here," Chan suggests and lifts you in his arms, carrying you back to the coziness of his place.

"I don't mind," you reassure him. "You being a vampire, that is. I love every part about you. I love...you."

"You…love me?" Chan gasps in surprise.

"I do, I love you," you say once again for good measure.

He doesn't say anything, just kisses you again in disbelief. You hug him tightly, finding so much comfort in his arms. Whatever you've heard about vampires doesn't apply to Chan. He's radiating so much warmth you feel you could burn.

"Hold on tight," he warns and you grip the headboard top rail for dear life, as Chan makes sure to show you blood is not the only thing he's interested in drinking.

As he laps up your juices greedily, you find yourself on the verge of losing your sanity. Your hands give out and you let go of the bed's railings and opt for burying your fingers into his curls once more for support.

"Chris, please, please," you cry out, not even sure what you're begging for. For him to stop? For sweet release? It doesn't matter, as long as he stays with you.

Soon enough, your prayers are answered and you start seeing stars floating in the middle of the room.

"Did I kill you already?" he laughs upon seeing your reaction.

"Try harder," you tease him, even though you are already so gone.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Chris shrugs.

He takes off his jeans and stuffs your mouth full with his giant cock. You try to babble something but it's no use and your helplessness only turns him on more. You hug the back of his knees and let him fuck your throat as he pleases, even though you don't have much of a choice in the matter. Your vision is cloudy with tears and you can't even ask for mercy as his cum starts flooding your mouth. If you thought him drinking your blood was overwhelming, this is on a whole 'nother level of dizzying.

Once he's done using and abusing your throat, he pulls his cock out, smirking at you from above.

"You okay, sweetheart? Still alive?"

"Y-yes, d-daddy," you manage to croak out weakly.

Chris shakes his head in amusement upon hearing the sudden title.

"Then, I guess Daddy's gonna have to give ya a rough ride so you'll forget your own name, huh? How does that sound?"

"More, please," you plead desperately and he makes good on his promise.

He enters you without another warning and you can't keep your screams inside.

"G-god, y-yes," you moan.

"God isn't in this room, darling," Chris cackles maniacally. "The devil, however…"

You kiss him again because he's talking so much your brain can't keep up.

"S-so b-big," you cry.

"Yeah? Too big for my little girl?" he teases you.

"N-no. P-perfect. You're perfect," you insist stubbornly.

Chris fucks into you with supernatural stamina and you are grateful for that because even though you want to, you aren't able of keeping pace with him. Instead, you are happy to just hold onto him and focusing all your energy into…well, not passing out. You're so wet for him that his enormous size slides in and out easily, satisfying both of you with the intensity of the feeling. At last, you cum together, overwhelmed by the passion and affection you feel for each other.

He collapses on top of you, not wanting to pull out just yet. You welcome his weight like he's a giant blanket, comforting you.

"Don't wanna let go of you," Chan murmurs cutely.

You stroke his hair once more with a gentle touch. How is this man who has so many more years of experience still such a cute boy, desperate for tenderness?

"Then, don't. I'm all yours to keep," you chuckle weakly.

"That wouldn't be very productive to our academic future," Chan complains.

"It's okay. I feel like we've both earned a little break," you point out.

"From university? Sure. But when it comes to us two…I need no break. No brakes."

"Nicely said," you giggle, ready for another round on this train that never sleeps.

The End

[loveritas]

₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Daydreamin'

Ft. Diluc ノ Zhongli ノAyato ノ Wanderer ノ Alhaitham ノChilde ノ Wriothesley

sum: meet cutes with the genshin men <3

contains: sfw, fempov, reader is short in zhongli's, these take place in random au's wc: 8.6k (roughly 1k - 1.6k per part)

a/n: i have missed writing fluff so much !

❥ - 1.6k

The masquerade was alive, full of colour and movement; the huge ballroom was a sea of masks and shining fabrics. The whole room was filled with music, a lilting waltz to guide every step and turn. Couples moved in time around you, their faces hidden.

You had been partnered with a man who was a gentleman but you didn’t seem to click, and though his dancing steps were passable, they lacked the style that truly made dancing a pleasure. You concentrated on following the rhythm, not letting your mind stray too openly. The masked anonymity of the ball was exhilarating, yes, but so far, the evening hadn't held much excitement.

Your eyes automatically scanned the room, and that's when you saw him.

Tall and poised, with his pale blue hair tied back in place, he moved with an ease that seemed to command the eyes of everyone within his vicinity. His mask was a beautiful work in blue and white, framing sharp features and a couple of piercing, unfathomable eyes. 

While your partner was stiff and formal, this man carried with an air of quiet intensity that set him apart from all others. His hand was steady at his dancing partner’s waist, his steps precise, but there was an ease to him that made it clear he belonged in this kind of setting.

You tried not to stare, but when his partner twirled, his eyes met yours across the dance floor. It was momentary, just a glimpse before he was carried away, but that single jolt of awareness ran through you. You felt restless all of a sudden, the steady rhythm of the waltz not enough to keep your thoughts from straying.

And just as the melody took on a brighter, more playful tone, so did the pace of the dance. In an instant, you whirled around quickly, releasing your partner's hand only to be caught by another. It was a seamless, yet exhilarating shift, but before you could even register what happened, you found yourself face-to-face with him.

The man with the blue and white mask.

"Good evening" a smooth, lilting voice greeted. "Fortune does appear to be smiling on me, tonight." He was quietly confident, gloved hand steady over yours, the other resting lightly against your waist. For a moment, words just wouldn't come.

"I—hello," you managed, your voice faltering under his piercing gaze. "Good um, evening-"

His lips curled into a very small smile—the kind of smile that made you feel like he knew something you didn't. "You don't sound entirely certain," he said, his voice light and teasing but not impolite.

You caught yourself smiling back at him despite the flip in your chest. "I guess I wasn't expecting the evening to take such an…interesting turn."

"Interesting?" His brow arched beneath the edge of his mask as he moved with fluid grace, steering you into the next step. "I hope that's a compliment."

"Perhaps it is," you said, finding your stride with surprising ease. He danced with an unhurried confidence, as if the rest of the ballroom did not exist, and it was impossible not to be drawn in. "Do you make a habit of catching people off guard?"

His laugh was low, a sound that felt like a secret shared just between the two of you. "Not usually. But tonight seems to be an exception."

And then, of course, the two of you would twirl together—perfectly timed—and the room would spin with you in that moment. For a moment, it was as though the music itself had slowed to let your steps catch up, the world narrowing to the warmth of his hand at your waist and the steady rhythm of his movements.

"Have we met before?" you asked, the words tumbling from your mouth before you could hold them back.

He cocked his head to one side, studying you with an unreadable look on his face. "Not formally," he replied after a moment, the word tightly controlled. "Though I must admit, I did notice you earlier."

There was something underlying in what he said, an almost calculated quality to the way he picked them, which made you feel that there was more in his answer than he was letting on. "You noticed me?" you asked, curiosity getting the better of you; you know your eyes locked for a moment, but you didn't think he'd noticed.

"Indeed," he said. Light and precise were his footsteps, as if each step was rehearsed. "You stood out. It was hard not to notice."

You felt flustered at that, though you attempted to downplay the thought in a careless tone. "That sounds unlikely in a room full of masks and finery."

"Perhaps," he allowed, his voice light but with a sharper undercurrent to it. "But even amongst all of this, there are some things worth looking at closer."

The words just hung in the air between you, and you didn't know what to say. His eyes were fixed intently on yours; you couldn't help but gaze into their depth.

"And yet," you got out, finding your voice again, "we still only ended up here by chance."

"Chance?" His voice was suddenly low and touched with silent amusement. He turned you around easily, the room blurring for a moment before his hand steadied you once more. "Let's just say. I'm not in the habit of leaving certain things entirely to chance."

His words made you pause, your eyes narrowing slightly as you regarded him. "What does that mean?"

He chuckled, low and rich; it was almost a confession in itself. "The flow of a dance like this," he began, his voice silky, like the music wrapped around you, "is not quite as fickle as one might expect. Patterns begin to emerge, if you look for them, and well, it becomes possible to guide the outcome.

Realization dawned and you blinked up at him, stuck somewhere between incredulity and fascination. "You mean you counted the steps? To make sure we'd-"

“To make sure we’d end up here, yes,” he finished for you, his tone unapologetic but not smug. His gaze remained steady, his expression calm as though this was the most natural thing in the world.

Your breath caught in your throat as a rush of feelings struggled for dominance: flattery, curiosity, perhaps even a touch of indignation at the subtle manipulation. "And why go to all that trouble?"

His hand at your waist tightened ever so slightly, anchoring you as his voice dropped just enough for only you to hear. "Because the chance to dance with you wasn't one I was willing to miss."

The sincerity in his voice took you aback, and for a moment, you were silent. His confidence had been apparent from the get-go, but now, beneath that, you saw something more—something almost vulnerable in the way he waited for your reaction.

"Well," you said finally, your lips curving into a small smile as you met his gaze. "I suppose I should be flattered, then."

"Flattered," he repeated, his voice playful but with a hint of heat, "is a good place to start. Though I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping for more than that."

You tipped your head, his words creating a shiver in your chest. "More? Such as?"

"Perhaps," he said, bringing his face inches closer, his voice lowering just enough to speed up the pulse, "to finally see the face behind the mask. It seems somehow unfair to be so drawn to someone so captivating without really knowing who they are."

You laughed softly, "Isn't the whole point of a masquerade to keep such things a mystery?"

His eyes met yours and held just a little too long, "And while the masquerade is lovely, I think I'd rather see you without the mask."

You looked away, the heat in his words catching you off guard. "That's a pretty bold assumption," you said, trying to keep yourself together. "What makes you think I'd even want to show you?"

His fingers tightened on yours just a fraction, but the spark sent shivers through you. "Because I think you'd enjoy it," he said, his voice low, almost mischievous-sounding. "I am only guessing that you're one of those persons who sets a great store by mystery, yet wouldn't balk if that mystery were to be let go at the proper time.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn't help but smile at his confidence. "That's quite the gamble."

He shrugged, the smile never leaving his face. "Sometimes the best things are worth taking a chance on."

"I'm sure we could find a time-perhaps after the masks come off-when we can have a real conversation." He stopped there for just a moment, then added, "Maybe even a date."

You laughed softly, and a spark was lit under your chest that you couldn't quite explain. "You're confident-”

He leaned in closer, "If I weren’t sure, I wouldn’t be here.”

The dance was coming to a close, the music slowing, but he didn't let go of your hand. He gave you a smile full of unspoken promises, "I'll wait, then. But I think you'll find you won't want to wait too long."

You smiled back at him, feeling the chemistry between you build with each passing moment. "Maybe I'll keep you guessing for a little longer."

He gave a small bow as the dance finished, his eyes never leaving yours. "I’ll take my chances."

❥ - 1k

The chatter of other parents waiting in line outside the classroom filled the hallway, a blend of polite conversations and nervous laughter. You stood near the wall, holding your bag and glancing occasionally at the door. Parent’s Evening always had this awkward tension—trying to gauge how much trouble your child may or may not be in based on the teacher's expression when they called you in. 

Off to the side, a deep voice rumbled, "Long line, huh?" You turned to find a tall man leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way-broad shoulders, sharp jawline, and piercing eyes. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, and there was an air of calm about him that felt oddly magnetic.

“Yeah,” you replied, offering a small smile. “They should’ve scheduled these things better. It’s like they expect us to wait all night.”

As your conversation with the handsome stranger flowed, a burst of laughter from down the hall caught your attention. Glancing over, you spotted two familiar figures.

They were crouched together near a display of student artwork, heads close as if sharing some top-secret joke. Your child gestured animatedly, while his son leaned back, laughing so hard he nearly tipped over.

Wriothesley followed your gaze, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Well, looks like the wait doesn’t bother them.”

“That’s my kid,” you said, a touch of pride in your voice.

“Annd that’s mine,”

You exchanged a look, realisation dawning.

“They’re best friends,” you both said at the same time, the words tumbling out in unison.

The synchronicity made you both laugh, and the easy warmth of the moment was enough to chase away the awkwardness of the initial encounter.

“Explains a lot,” he said, straightening up slightly. “Every day, my son’s got a new story about the ‘coolest’ thing your kid did or some scheme they’re planning.”

“Oh, trust me, I hear all about it too,” you replied, grinning. “Your son apparently always brings the best cookies to school and hands them out to everyone?”

Wriothesley smirked, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t take praise for that, I’m not the greatest baker, but the shop-bought ones? Can’t go wrong there.”

The teacher’s voice drifted into the hallway, calling another name—still not either of yours. The two of you had a little more time to linger.

The lightness in his eyes softened. “Honestly, though, it’s nice. Knowing my kid has someone like yours to lean on. Makes everything feel a little less… overwhelming, you know?”

You nodded, your own smile fading into something more thoughtful. “I do know. It’s… good for them to have someone. Especially when it’s just the two of you at home.”

There was a brief pause as that unspoken understanding settled between you, the noise of the hallway fading just slightly. His eyes lingered on you, thoughtful now, as if piecing something together.

“Just the two of you?” he asked softly, his voice careful but curious.

You nodded, shifting your weight. "Yeah. It's uh- been that way a decent while now. Just me and my kid figuring things out as we go."

His face softened, and a flicker of something vulnerable crossed it. "Same here. It's just me and my boy."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. Somehow, despite the ease of their rapport and the warmth in the exchanges, you hadn't expected to hear that. "Really?

He gave a short nod, his hand absently rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. It's not always easy, but. he's worth it, you know? Even when he's teaching half the class how to be a menace."

You couldn't help but laugh at that, the shared understanding pulling you closer. "Oh, trust me, I get it."

His eyes wandered over your form before taking in the colour of your eyes Then, as if catching himself, he straightened slightly, his tone softening. "So, uh… what do you do? When you're not chasing after your kid, I mean."

You told him, your response setting off an easy back-and-forth that felt surprisingly natural. He listened intently, nodding at the right moments, even laughing softly when you shared a self-deprecating story.

"And you?" you asked, truly curious.

“Nothing as exciting as you,” he said with a teasing grin before adding, “I’m a prison warden. Keeps me busy, but… it’s good. Makes coming home to my boy feel like the best part of my day.”

The sincerity in his voice struck a chord, and you found yourself smiling again. “That’s… really sweet.”

He shrugged, a faint blush colouring his cheeks, though he played it off with a small laugh. “I try.”

The kids reappeared then, tugging at your sleeves and talking over each other about some grand plan they’d concocted. Wriothesley crouched down to their level, his larger frame surprisingly gentle as he spoke to them.

As the teacher’s voice finally called your name, you hesitated, glancing back at him.

“Looks like that’s me,” you said, your tone light but reluctant.

He nodded, his smile warm. “Good luck in there. And, uh…” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck again, a hint of nervousness creeping into his otherwise composed demeanour. “If you ever need a break from all this, maybe we could grab a coffee tea sometime. No pressure.”

Your chest tightened at the unexpected invitation, but his genuine tone made it impossible not to smile.

“For the kids?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

His grin widened, that boyish charm impossible to miss. “Of course. For the kids.”

“Sure,” you said, smiling at him. “Why not?”

As you walked into the classroom, your child waving enthusiastically behind you, you couldn’t help but glance back. He was watching with a soft, thoughtful expression that almost made you feel like giving love a second shot wouldn’t be so bad.

❥ - 1.1k

The city was busy as you stepped out of your favorite café, the warmth of your freshly brewed tea seeping through the cup and into your hands. Turning the corner, you collided with what felt like a brick wall—or rather, a man in a sharply tailored suit moving with single-minded determination. The impact sent your tea splashing upward, landing squarely on his pristine white shirt.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” you blurted, your voice full of mortification as you stared at the growing stain on the fabric.

The man—broad-shouldered, towering, and clearly out of place in the crowd of harried commuters—paused mid-step, looking down at his now-ruined shirt. His crimson hair gleamed under the sunlight, but it was his striking eyes that pinned you in place as he met your gaze.

“It’s… fine,” he said after a moment, though his tone was stiff. He reached into his pocket, pulling out some tissues with the kind of poise that suggested he’d dealt with worse.

“No, it’s not fine!” you protested, fumbling to grab some napkins from your bag. “Here, let me—oh no, this was hot, wasn’t it? Did I burn you?”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, his tone softening slightly as he noticed the genuine concern in your expression.

You grabbed a napkin the cafe had gave you, attempting to help,, hovering uncertainly as he dabbed at the stain. “I’m really, really sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going—”

“I wasn’t, either,” he interrupted, his lips curving into a faint, polite smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Despite his calm demeanour, you could tell he was in a hurry. His eyes flicked toward his watch, a sleek, expensive piece that looked like it cost more than your entire month’s rent. You followed his gaze and bit your lip.

“You’re on your way somewhere important,” you guessed, wincing. “A meeting?”

“Something like that,” he admitted, though he didn’t sound annoyed—just resigned. He folded the damp handkerchief neatly, tucking it back into his pocket. “But accidents happen.”

“Still, I feel terrible,” you said, wringing your hands. “Can I… uh pay for it to be cleaned?”

At that, his eyebrow arched slightly, and the corners of his mouth twitched, as if the idea amused him. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. It’s really not a problem,” he said, his voice low and smooth, with a quiet authority that made it clear he was used to being in control. “But…” He paused, glancing at the puddle of tea on the sidewalk. “You might want to be more careful next time.”

“Right. Of course,” you mumbled, feeling like a scolded child despite his lack of actual harshness.

He glanced at you again, noticing the way your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and something in him softened. Normally, a situation like this would have him irritated—late for a meeting, ruined shirt, a stranger apologising profusely but not being able to go back in time and undo it. In his world, time was money, and getting distracted by little accidents was a waste. But for some reason, he found himself looking at you, feeling a strange mix of irritation and something else—something that made him pause longer than he normally would. There was something about the way you looked—flustered, apologetic, and yet still trying to make things right—that made him pause.

Diluc found himself caught in a moment of unusual stillness, the frenetic energy of the city seeming to blur into the background. His eyes lingered on your face—a blend of soft, sincere concern and undeniable beauty. He couldn’t quite place why he felt compelled to stay longer than necessary. You were a stranger, after all. But there was something about the way your lips quirked in worry and the brightness in your eyes that made you hard to look away from.

The logical part of his mind urged him to move on—his meeting, his schedule—but the thought of leaving felt… incomplete.

He cleared his throat, his deep voice gentling further. “You really don’t need to worry about the shirt. It’s not the end of the world.”

You blinked, as if surprised by his reassurance. “Still, I feel bad. I’ve ruined your morning.”

He shook his head slightly, his lips curving into a faint smile, one that reached his eyes this time. “If anything, it’s made it a little more… interesting.” His tone was laced with something playful, a rarity in his otherwise measured demeanour.

The way your eyebrows lifted in surprise made his chest tighten unexpectedly. It was as though he’d accidentally caught himself wanting to linger in this fleeting encounter—an anomaly in his meticulously ordered life.

“Let me buy you another drink.” he said suddenly, catching even himself off guard.

You stared at him, blinking in confusion. “What?”

“Your tea,” he clarified, gesturing to the now-empty cup in your hand. “It’s only fair I replace what you’ve lost.”

Your mouth opened, then closed, as if you were searching for words. “But I—no, you don’t have to do that. I should be the one offering—”

“I insist,” he interrupted, his voice carrying a quiet finality that left little room for argument. There was no hint of impatience, only a calm confidence that suggested he wasn’t accustomed to being refused.

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Are you sure? You seemed like you were in a hurry…”

Diluc glanced at his watch again. For a brief moment, he considered the importance of his next appointment. Then, with a surprising sense of ease, he decided it could wait.

“I have a little time,” he said, meeting your gaze again. “Besides, I’d hate to leave you feeling guilty all day.”

That faint smile returned to his face, and his eyes held a warmth that made your heart skip. There was something magnetic about him—his quiet confidence, his poise, and the subtle charm that softened the edges of his serious demeanour.

“Well… okay,” you relented, your voice small but tinged with a shy smile. “But only if you let me pay for your dry cleaning.”

His laughter was soft but genuine, a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “No need,” he said, the amused glint in his eyes suggesting he didn’t particularly care about the shirt anymore anyway.

He gestured for you to lead the way, and as you walked back toward the café together, you couldn’t help but feel like the city’s chaos had suddenly slowed down. With every step, the weight of your earlier embarrassment lifted, replaced by a curious warmth that lingered in the space between you.

❥ - 1.2k

The golden light of the setting sun bathed the garden in a soft, amber hue as the wedding reception continued around you. The hum of chatter filled the air, mingling with the clinking of glasses and the distant sound of music. When it was time to take your seats for the food, you found your assigned table tucked near the back of the venue. As you approached, you noticed you weren’t the first to arrive. A man sat in the chair next to yours, flipping through the menu card with a casual disinterest.

He looked up as you neared, and for a moment, you were struck by how effortlessly striking he was. His silvery hair, streaked with teal, gleamed under the warm lights, and his sharp eyes gave him an air of detached confidence.

“Hi,” you said brightly, sliding into your seat. “Looks like we’re table buddies for the night.”

He gave a polite nod, setting the menu down. “It seems so.”

The lack of enthusiasm might have deterred you if not for the faint, curious glance he gave you, as if wondering why you were addressing him in the first place.

“So,” you continued, undeterred, “are you here for the bride or the groom?”

“The groom,” he replied simply. “We were classmates years ago.”

“Oh, nice! I’m here for the bride—she’s a friend from work. This whole thing is gorgeous, isn’t it?”

He glanced around the venue, as though appraising it. “It’s… elaborate.”

You stifled a laugh. “That’s an…interesting way of putting it.”

His lips quirked into the faintest smile, though he didn’t say more. You took that as an opening to keep the conversation going.

“Do you go to a lot of weddings?” you asked.

“Not if I can help it,” he replied, his tone dry. “But occasionally, duty calls.”

“Fair enough,” you said with a grin. “I kind of love weddings. The food, the music, the atmosphere—it’s all so happy.”

He raised an eyebrow at your enthusiasm, like he couldn’t quite fathom it. “I suppose that’s one way to look at it.”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who sits and judges everything,” you teased.

“I prefer to call it observation,” he countered smoothly. “It’s more productive than forced small talk.”

You laughed, and he seemed momentarily surprised by your reaction, his expression softening slightly.

“Well, I’ll have you know, I’m excellent at forced small talk,” you declared with mock seriousness. “I’ll keep us entertained all night if I have to.”

“Somehow, I don’t doubt that,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

The conversation continued through dinner. Despite his initial reluctance, Alhaitham was surprisingly easy to talk to. He had a dry wit that paired amusingly with your sunny optimism, and he seemed to enjoy the back-and-forth. When the dancing began, you noticed he stayed firmly seated, watching the lively crowd with the same calm detachment he’d worn all evening.

“No dancing for you?” you asked, leaning toward him slightly.

He gave you a pointed look. “Do I strike you as someone who dances?”

“Not even a little,” you admitted with a grin. “But you’d look great out there. Imagine the dramatic twirls.”

“Hard pass,” he said, though there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Well, I’m terrible at dancing, too,” you said cheerfully. “So we can sit here and judge—I mean, observe—together.”

“An acceptable compromise,” he replied, inclining his head slightly.

The night unfolded with an ease you hadn’t anticipated. Alhaitham, for all his aloofness, seemed genuinely engaged as you bantered back and forth. The initial polite detachment in his demeanour gave way to something subtler, warmer. While his words remained measured and his tone calm, you started catching little glimpses—fleeting but unmistakable—that he was paying closer attention to you than you realised.

It began with small things. During dessert, as you waved your hands enthusiastically while recounting a story about an awkward first dance at a previous wedding, his gaze lingered—not on your plate, not on the crowded dance floor, but on you. His eyes followed the way you spoke, as though memorizing the way your smile tilted or the soft cadence of your laughter.

“I have to say,” you finished, leaning back in your chair with a grin, “this wedding is definitely one of the better ones. I’ve been to.”

His lips twitched, his smirk almost imperceptible. “High praise. I agree, though I imagine your presence has something to do with that.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Wait—was that… a compliment?”

He tilted his head slightly, his expression impassive save for the faintest gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Merely an observation.”

“Uh-huh,” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him. “Noted, Mr. Observer.”

He didn’t respond right away, but there was a quiet amusement in the way he refocused his attention on his glass of wine, swirling it gently as though debating his next words. Finally, he said, “You’re remarkably good at making these events less… tedious.”

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand. “Okay, now I know that’s a compliment. What’s next? You’ll tell me I’m your favourite dinner companion?”

“If I did, would you stop asking questions?” His tone was dry, but there was an unmistakable flicker of amusement behind it.

“Absolutely not,” you shot back.

The festivities wound down, the lively hum of conversation replaced by the soft rustling of guests gathering their things. You stood near your table, slipping your shawl over your shoulders as the cool evening breeze swept through the venue. Alhaitham stood beside you, as composed as ever, though there was a subtle ease to his posture now, a quiet warmth in his expression.

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest at his admission. “You’re not so bad for a reluctant wedding guest, you know.”

“And you’re surprisingly tolerable for someone who insists on small talk,” he said, his tone dry but laced with something softer, almost playful.

He glanced away briefly, as though debating something, before reaching into his jacket pocket. Without a word, he pulled out a neatly folded napkin and handed it to you. You unfolded it, only to find a string of neatly written numbers in crisp handwriting.

“For the next time you find yourself at one of these events,” he said, his voice calm but his eyes steady on yours, “and you need someone to… observe with.”

You stared at the napkin, a warm smile spreading across your face. “Is this your way of saying you’d tolerate my company again?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I’d even go as far as to say I’d welcome it.”

The honesty in his tone, subtle but undeniable, caught you off guard. You looked up at him, clutching the napkin like it was a secret treasure. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’d expect nothing less” he said, his smirk softening into something gentler.

❥ - 1.4k

The gentle hum of the elevator filled the air as you stepped inside, juggling your bag and a stack of papers you were determined not to drop. You barely noticed the man already inside until you turned to press your floor button and realised it was already lit. Your eyes flicked to him—a sharp-featured young man leaning against the corner with an air of disinterest, arms crossed.

His violet eyes, striking even in the dim light of the elevator, briefly met yours before darting away. His indigo hair fell in soft, slightly messy strands around his face, the casual tousle at odds with the crisp, clean lines of his attire. Something about him exuded quiet intensity, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking as the two of you stood in silence.

Just as the elevator jolted into motion, he seemed to shift, his stance straightening ever so slightly. A few moments passed before, quite suddenly, the elevator stopped with a soft lurch.

“Oh,” you murmured, instinctively reaching out to steady yourself against the wall. The lights remained on, but the numbers on the display froze.

“What just happened?” you asked aloud, glancing over at him.

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though a faint flush crept up his neck. “Looks like it’s stuck,” he said, his voice low and clipped.

You frowned, pressing the button for your floor a few times. Nothing. Then you tried the "door open" button, with no better results. “Great,” you sighed, leaning back. “Guess we’ll have to wait it out.”

“It happens,” he said, not quite looking at you.

You nodded, trying not to feel awkward in the confined space. You glanced over at him again, noticing how he seemed strangely composed for someone stuck in an elevator. In fact, there was an odd tension in the way he stood, his arms folded tightly as if he were holding something back.

After a beat, you broke the silence. “So… do you think someone’s already working on it?”

He nodded quickly. “Yeah. I pressed the emergency button.”

You blinked. “When?”

“Just now,” he said, his voice a little too quick. “They’ll fix it soon.”

Something about his answer struck you as odd, but you didn’t press. You instead leaned against the wall and let out a small laugh. “Guess it’s not the worst scenario.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his lips twitching as if he wanted to smile but didn’t know how. “True,” he muttered. Then, after a long pause, he added, “Does this sort of thing happen to you a lot?”

You tilted your head, caught off guard by the question. “Getting stuck in elevators? No, not really.” you laugh a little, “Why, does it happen to you?”

“...Not exactly,” he said, shifting uncomfortably.

His gaze flicked to yours then, and for a moment, he seemed completely still, like he was caught in a thought he didn’t want to share. He opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it again, his expression tightening.

“Are you okay?” you asked, concerned by his sudden silence.

He nodded too quickly. “Fine. Just… not great with small talk.”

You laughed gently at his honesty. “That’s okay. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

He hesitated, the faintest hint of frustration flashing in his eyes before he spoke again, his words awkward but sincere. “I… don’t mind…talking. To you.”

Your surprise must have shown on your face, because his cheeks flushed faintly, and he looked away, scowling at himself. “Forget it,” he muttered.

“No, no, it’s fine!” you said quickly, smiling at him. “It’s actually… kind of nice. You just don’t seem like the type who talks just to fill the silence.”

He glanced at you again, and something in his expression softened. “I don’t.”

“Well,” you said lightly, “I guess I’ll take it as a compliment, then.”

The smallest smirk ghosted across his lips, and he nodded almost imperceptibly. The elevator felt a little less stifling after that, the tension easing as the two of you settled into a companionable silence.

What you didn’t notice, however, was the faint press of his fingers against the emergency stop button, hidden just behind his back. The faint blush on his cheeks deepened as he glanced at you one more time, silently cursing himself for how ridiculous he felt—and how glad he was that he’d pressed it anyway.

“I’ve seen you before,” he said abruptly, the words coming out more bluntly than he’d intended.

You blinked, tilting your head as you tried to place him. “Really? Where?”

His gaze darted to the floor for a second, then back to you. “In one of the other departments. You work on the third floor, right?”

You nodded slowly, surprised that he knew. “Yeah, I do. I didn’t realise you knew that. Do you work in the building too?”

He crossed his arms again, his posture stiffening slightly. “Kind of. I’m usually upstairs.” He gestured vaguely upward. “But I’ve passed through your floor a few times.”

“That’s funny,” you said with a soft laugh. “I guess I haven’t noticed you before.”

He shrugged, his expression unreadable, though there was a faint flush high on his cheekbones. “Not surprising. You’re usually… busy. Focused.”

You smiled at that, a little flattered despite the awkwardness of the exchange. “I guess that’s true. I get caught up in my work sometimes.”

“I noticed,” he murmured, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it.

There was a beat of silence before you tilted your head, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “So, what do you do? Upstairs, I mean.”

He hesitated, as if he hadn’t expected the question. “Oh it’s…not interesting” he said finally, his tone nonchalant..

“Neither is what I do,” you said, grinning. “So I guess we have that in common.”

A small, wry smile tugged at his lips. “I guess so.”

You leaned back against the wall, studying him for a moment. His sharp features, the way his arms stayed folded tightly as if trying to guard himself from the world, the flicker of something softer in his gaze when he glanced at you—it all made him a puzzle you wanted to understand.

Wanderer shifted his weight, uncrossing his arms as if steeling himself for something. His violet eyes flicked to yours, then away again, before he finally spoke, his voice low and almost hesitant.

“You know… since we’re stuck here and all,” he began, glancing at you briefly, “I was thinking… maybe after we get out of this, we could… grab lunch or something.”

The suggestion hung in the air for a moment, and you blinked, caught off guard. “Lunch?” you echoed, tilting your head slightly.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, his usual sharp tone softened by a faint flush colouring his cheeks. “You’re always busy, right? Maybe you could use a break.”

You blinked again, then let out a soft laugh. “Well, when you put it like that, how can I say no?”

His lips twitched into a faint smirk, relief flickering in his expression. “Good,” he said simply, as though that was the end of it. But you could see the faint tension still lingering in the way his hands stayed tucked in his pockets.

“I think that sounds nice,” you added, smiling warmly. “Did you have anywhere in mind, or are we just winging it?”

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’ll think of something.”

Before either of you could say more, Wanderer subtly reached behind him and pressed the emergency stop button again, releasing it with a soft click. The elevator gave a slight jolt and then resumed its motion, the floor indicator lighting up as if the issue had miraculously resolved itself.

“Oh,” you said, straightening in surprise. “It’s working again!”

Wanderer arched a brow, schooling his expression into one of mild surprise. “Huh. Guess they fixed it.”

“Finally,” you said with a chuckle, relaxing against the wall. “That wasn’t too bad, though. Good company and all.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his smirk deepening just a little as he glanced at you. “Could’ve been worse.”

As the elevator dinged, signalling your floor, you gathered your things and turned to him. “So… lunch?”

He nodded, his gaze steady for once. “Lunch.”

❥ - 1k

The lecture hall was already buzzing when you arrived, students filing in and chatting while the professor prepared at the front. You slipped into your usual seat near the edge of the room—a spot with minimal distractions and a clear view of the board. It was the ideal spot.

Or, it was.

“Hey, hey, hey! Mind if I sit here?”

Before you could even glance up, a whirlwind of energy plopped down onto the seat next to you. You turned to find him—Ajax, also known as the human embodiment of a golden retriever. His ginger hair was messy in that purposeful way, his bright blue eyes practically sparking with energy, and his grin was as wide as the ocean.

“Oh, uh…” you started, unsure how to respond.

“Great, thanks!” He tossed his bag onto the desk, completely ignoring the fact that you hadn’t exactly agreed.

Ajax leaned back in his chair with the ease of someone who had never doubted his welcome. Before you could so much as adjust your notebook, he started rummaging through his bag, pulling out what looked suspiciously like a crumpled bag of crisps.

“You don’t mind, right?” he asked, already popping it open, the scent wafting into the air. “I missed breakfast. You ever accidentally hit snooze like, five times?”

You blinked, unsure how to respond to the whirlwind of words. “Um, sometimes?”

“Right? Anyway, you seem like someone who doesn’t skip breakfast. Organized. Responsible. Probably always on time.” He tossed a crisp into his mouth and grinned at you.

“I…” You glanced at your notebook, feeling your cheeks warm under his bright attention. “I guess so.”

“Knew it-” he declared triumphantly, “I’m never wrong about these things. It’s like a gift.”

The professor began the lecture, and you thought maybe—just maybe—Ajax would settle down. For a solid five minutes, he stayed quiet, munching on his crisps and tapping a pen against his notebook. Then, he leaned over slightly, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“So, be honest. Do you actually take notes, or are you one of those people who doodles during class?”

You bit back a smile, gesturing at the neatly written bullet points already filling your page.

“Figures,” he said, sounding impressed. “Your handwriting-” he gestured vaguely toward your notebook. “It’s pretty. Like, did you take a calligraphy class or something?”

You huffed a quiet laugh, clearly trying to stay focused. “No, it’s just… how I write.”

Ajax leaned in a little, his voice teasing. “Yeah, well, it’s very intimidating. Makes the rest of us look bad.”

You rolled your eyes, but he caught the faint smile tugging at your lips. “Somehow, I doubt you care about that.”

“You should let me borrow your notes sometime,” he added, giving you a playful nudge with his elbow. “I’ll pay you back in snacks. Or coffee. Or both.”

“I don’t think snacks are an acceptable trade for hours of note-taking,” you said, your voice dry but teasing.

“Ah, but I bring excellent snacks,” he said, holding up the bag like a trophy. “And I make for great conversation, not so bad to look at... You’ve gotta admit, this class is more fun with me around.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off with a mock gasp. “Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t think my ego can handle it if you disagree.”

Despite yourself, you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet, here I am, sitting beside you,” he said, popping another crisp into his mouth and flashing a wink.

As the lecture dragged on, Ajax continued his antics, though they softened into something less disruptive and more endearing. He whispered comments about the professor’s overly dramatic hand gestures, pointed out a tiny bird perched on the window ledge, and even offered you a crisp—which you declined with a polite shake of your head.

“Y’know,” he said after a pause, his tone softer but still playful, “you’re kind of an enigma.”

You frowned slightly, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. “An enigma?”

“Yeah,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re quiet, all focused and put-together, but then you smile, and it’s like—bam. Sunshine. Caught me off guard, honestly.”

You froze for a second, the compliment landing unexpectedly. When you turned your head to look at him fully, Ajax’s grin had softened into something warmer, his blue eyes holding yours for just a beat too long.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, but your voice lacked the bite you probably intended.

“Ridiculously charming?” he offered, leaning back again with a self-satisfied smirk.

You groaned, shaking your head and turning back to your notes but you couldn’t hide the faint smile.

For the rest of the lecture, he mostly behaved himself—though you could feel his occasional glances, lingering just long enough for you to catch him once or twice. Each time, he’d flash you a cheeky grin, like he wasn’t even remotely sorry.

When the lecture ended and the shuffle of packing up began, Ajax turned to you again, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “Okay, so here’s the deal,” he said, grinning as if you’d already agreed to whatever he was about to propose. “Same spot next time, yeah? I’ll bring better snacks, maybe something with chocolate. You seem like a chocolate kind of person.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his easy assumption. “I—”

“Great!” he cut in before you could protest. “It’s settled. See you Wednesday!”

And just like that, he was gone, bounding out of the lecture hall with the energy of someone who’d had three cups of coffee this morning.

❥ - 1.3k

The quiet murmur of a bookshop’s ambiance wrapped around you as you wandered through the aisles. The scent of old pages and freshly printed novels mixed in the air, a calming backdrop to the soft rustle of paper as other customers leafed through books. You found yourself in the history section, your eyes scanning the spines for the title you’d been meaning to pick up for weeks.

There it was—finally. Unfortunately, it was perched on the highest shelf, just out of reach. You stood on tiptoes, stretching as far as you could, but the book still eluded your grasp. Letting out a soft huff, you glanced around, wondering if there might be a stool or ladder nearby.

“Allow me.”

The deep, resonant voice startled you slightly, and you turned to see a tall man standing beside you. His amber eyes were warm and steady, framed by long, sleek hair the colour of dark chocolate with faint streaks of gold. He wore a well-fitted vest over a crisp shirt, the kind of attire that seemed more suited to a museum curator than a bookshop employee. Yet the small name tag on his vest confirmed his role here.

“May I?” he asked, a faint smile playing at his lips as he gestured toward the shelf.

“Oh, uh, yes. Please,” you stammered, stepping aside.

With an elegance that seemed effortless, he reached up and plucked the book from its high perch, holding it out to you as though presenting a rare treasure. “This one, correct?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” you said, your smile growing as you took it from his hands. “Thank you so much….I didn’t realise the shelves here went so high up here.”

He chuckled softly, the sound like a low melody. “The shelves in this section are rather tall. A peculiar design choice, considering the average customer’s height.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment, his smile deepening. “If you ever require assistance, please don’t hesitate to ask. My name is Zhongli, and I’m here most days.”

“Thank you, Zhongli,” you said, glancing down at the book in your hands. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

His eyes softened, and he inclined his head slightly, a gesture so refined it almost felt like a bow. “Enjoy your reading. That particular title is quite enlightening.”

“You’ve read it?” you asked, curious.

“Many times,” he admitted, a faint gleam of fondness in his eyes. “If you’d like, I can recommend others in the same vein. There are several works that complement it quite well.”

Your smile widened. “I’d like that. I might have to come back for those recommendations.”

Zhongli’s gaze lingered on you briefly, a warm, easy smile gracing his lips. “You know,” he said in a tone as calm and composed as ever, “you have a very natural beauty. It’s... refreshing, in the best way.”

His words caught you slightly off guard, and you glanced down at the book in your hands, trying to keep your composure. “Oh, um, thank you. That’s nice of you to say.”

“I mean it,” he continued, his expression earnest. “Your smile is particularly radiant—it brightens the room more than you might realize. It’s the kind of detail one notices immediately.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, feeling a mixture of flattered and flustered. “You’re quite observant, aren’t you?”

He chuckled, a rich, low sound. “I suppose I am. But in this case, it’s impossible not to be. I’m certain I’m not the first person to tell you this, though.”

“Well, it’s not something I hear often in a bookstore,” you replied, your smile widening despite yourself.

“Then allow me to be the exception,” he said with a small, confident nod.

The two of you stood there for a moment, a comfortable silence settling as the ambiance of the bookstore buzzed faintly in the background. Zhongli glanced down at your book again, his thoughtful expression making it clear he was not one to speak without intent.

“That book,” he began, gesturing to the title in your hands, “Explores a fascinating era. Have you always been interested in this period of history?”

You nodded, feeling more at ease, a smile crossing your face.

His amber eyes lit up, and he crossed his arms, leaning slightly against the edge of the tall bookshelf. “You have excellent taste.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that “That’s high praise coming from someone who seems like they might be a historian themselves.”

Zhongli chuckled softly, the sound carrying a hint of amusement. “Not quite, though I’ve spent a great deal of time immersed in historical studies. You could say it’s a passion of mine.”

“I can tell,” you said, tilting your head. “You speak about it so eloquently. Have you worked here long?”

“Long enough,” he replied cryptically, though his smile didn’t waver. “And long enough to learn which shelves require a ladder and which ones are within an acceptable reach.”

You laughed at his response, the sound light and genuine. “Well, your knowledge certainly came in handy today. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably still be strategizing how to climb the bookshelf without breaking any bones.”

“I’m glad I could save you the trouble,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. “Though, I must say, I suspect you would have approached it with admirable determination.”

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug, grinning. “But it’s probably for the best that I didn’t have to try.”

The two of you fell into a rhythm of easy conversation, Zhongli proving to be an impeccable listener with a knack for making even the smallest details feel significant. He shared recommendations for other books with a quiet enthusiasm that made you wonder just how vast his knowledge was. At one point, he mentioned a nearby café where he often went to read, his casual suggestion tinged with the faintest hint of an invitation.

“Do you spend much time in bookstores?” he asked after a pause, his tone curious.

“Probably more than I should,” you admitted with a soft laugh. “There’s something so comforting about them. The quiet, the endless possibilities on the shelves… it’s like a little escape from the world.”

Zhongli’s expression softened, and for a moment, he regarded you with a look so earnest it made your pulse quicken. “I couldn’t agree more,” he said quietly. “It’s rare to meet someone who appreciates the nuances of a place like this. Most people simply pass through without truly seeing it.”

His words lingered in the air, carrying an unspoken depth. You glanced down at your book, your fingers brushing against the embossed title. “It sounds like you’ve seen a lot of people come and go.”

“I have,” he said simply. “But encounters like this… they remind me of the value in taking notice.”

Your heart fluttered at his sincerity, and before you could second-guess yourself, you asked, “Do you think you’ll be here tomorrow? I might need help finding those other books you mentioned.”

Zhongli’s lips curved into a warm smile, his gaze steady and reassuring. “I would be delighted to assist you again. Come by anytime.”

With that, you exchanged a few more pleasantries before parting ways, but the connection lingered, the promise of another meeting sparking a quiet anticipation in the back of your mind.

reblogsノcomments are greatly appreciated <3

© lovesculprit → do not copy or translate any of my works

[miyukisu]

Better Bite the Bullet .ᐟ

❤︎ | He's just trying to be a good best friend by teaching you a useful skill in life... blowjobs (2k wc) ╰ feat. iwaizumi hajime (hq) x afab! reader

kinktober entry no. 10 | kinktober masterlist

tags - college au, childhood bestfriends, Oikawa mention, blowjobs, handjobs, no p in v, p*rn with plot, virgin! reader

minors do not interact

You've known Hajime since you were in diapers, long enough that he had grown indifferent to your antics. He hasn't even looked up once from his phone as you paced tirelessly around his bedroom. You were losing your shit and Hajime was sitting on his bed without a care in the world.

A bright idea came to you in the form of making your footsteps louder in hopes that it would annoy him enough to catch his attention. He clicks his tongue once before narrowing his eyes at your moving form.

But not even a second later, his eyes were back on his phone one again. "What the hell are you even doing?" he asked.

"Pacing around. Isn't it obvious?"

He grumbles, finally turning his phone off and throwing it to the side where it landed on his pillow with a soft thud. "No shit Sherlock. I meant what are you pacing around for? It's annoying."

Finally, you stop in your tracks, facing your childhood best friend with your lower lip between your teeth. You've been dying to tell him what was on your chest an hour ago. But now that you're about to spill the beans to him—you found yourself tripping over your words.

"I guess... um... Oikawa kinda asked me to hang out soon... um..."

Hajime's interest was piqued. Normally he wouldn't give two shits about who Oikawa asked out. But this time it was you. An uneasy feeling brewed in his stomach, like he had drank rancid milk.

"And you're worrying about it like some middle schooler? C'mon you're in college," he deflects. Of course, it was his defense mechanism—to act all tough and harsh with the revelation.

You crossed your arms in defense. "I get that... but it's THE Oikawa Tooru that we're talking about here."

"So?"

"What do you mean 'so'? Is your head not screwed on properly?"

Hajime rolls his eyes. Not only were you about to be whisked away by Oikawa, but you had the gall to act like a total brat right now.

"He's just asking to hang out—what's so amazing about that?"

Truth be told, you hadn't thought this far into what it would be like if you had this conversation with Hajime. You figured you wouldn't have to divulge the second—more embarrassing—part of this whole event.

A disappointed sigh leaves your lips. You screwed your eyes shut as if to prepare for the impact of his reaction on what you have to say next.

"A friend of mine told me that when he says something like that... it usually leads to... you know..."

Hajime's eyebrow perked then silence ensued. He knew what you meant, of course. He wasn't born yesterday.

"To what? Fucking?"

Your eyes shot open at his vulgar choice of words. That's exactly what you meant, but you didn't think he'd be so blunt about it. "I mean—if it does get to that... obviously I won't just go all the way with him. I haven't even talked to him that much," you say—backpedaling.

"You won't go all the way, but you'll go somewhere huh?" he pried further. He played it off like he was teasing or, worse yet, mocking. But he wanted to know; he knew his friend's intentions, but he didn't know yours.

You nervously bit your lip again. This was going to be the third revelation of tonight. Never in a thousand years would you have thought that you'd be having his conversation with your childhood best friend.

"Maybe... maybe, yeah... that's what I'm nervous about..."

The uneasy feeling had grown worse. Hajime swallowed even though his mouth felt dry. "Then just don't," he suggests. "You could always just hang out normally."

Another sigh escapes you and you decide to sit beside him—plopping down on the mattress. You ran your fingers through your hair, smoothing out any tangles that had built up.

"I just wanna experience something... you know? I'll only be young and in college once..." you admit. At this point, there was no use in hiding it. Hajime knew every substantial detail anyway.

This time, it was Hajime who sighed. Part of him still felt dread, but another felt pity for you.

"Jeez..."

Hearing his reaction, you felt the urge to stand up and find your bearings. But a warm hand grips your wrist before you could go. You turn to look back and see Hajime's determined expression.

"I'll teach you then."

────────────

Hajime was a 100% sure not a single rational thought was left in either of your heads. Somehow, he thought that if only you touched him and not vice versa—it would be fine. And, somehow, you agreed to it.

You gulped at the sight in front of you, Hajime leaning against the wall on his bed with his dick out of his sweats.

"Well... that's certainly... something..."

"Do you also plan on commenting about his dick when you see it?"

His sarcasm was hardly appreciated right now, especially since you were sure that your nerves would send you into a tailspin.

"No, of course not. I just—fuck, fine. Let's get to it," you say before scooting closer to him.

Carefully, you reach out and gently wrap your fingers around his shaft. Hajime hissed softly, but you were too concentrated to even notice.

Mesmerized, you swiped your thumb over his tip and gave him a soft tug. His jaw was clenched so hard, trying to act like none of this fazed him. But the way you treated him so delicately was arousing in its own way.

You begin stroking him faster. "Is this okay? It doesn't hurt, right?"

"No, but," Hajime pauses before placing his larger hand over yours. "You could do it better though."

He was now guiding you—actually teaching you how to jerk a guy off. Your eyes were fixated on the way both of your hands glided up and down his shaft, slippery from the immense amount of pre.

But his eyes were on your face. Oddly enough, he found it endearing how focused you were at the task on hand (quite literally). He watched every time your face scrunched, how your mouth was a bit agape, and how your eyebrows would quirk up sometimes.

It was cute, he thought.

As soon as you figured out the pace and pressure, he let go of your hand, allowing you free reign over his dick. You felt it twitch. It was most likely a good sign at least. Even better now that he had his eyes closed, head thrown back against the wall.

Maybe this was easier than you thought. Maybe you could do something else. So your hand slows and your eyes trail up to his face. "Hajime."

"What?"

"Can I use my mouth?"

All the air was knocked out of his lungs upon hearing the words that left you. "Huh? What for?"

"No one's gonna be impressed by a handjob. Guys already do it on their own all the time," you reason.

Hajime clicks his tongue. "You don't have to do that kind of thing yet when you're this inexperienced."

He tried staying stern despite the almost pleading look on your face. Hell, he wasn't even sure why he was denying you. He could have your pretty lips wrapped around his cock in a second and here he was—acting like a righteous fool when he doesn't have to be.

Again, he clicks his tongue. But, this time, not because of you. He's annoyed at himself for having no restraint... for having no shame that he's kind of taking advantage of his best friend's naivety.

But to hell with it.

"Okay," he relents. Hajime watches as you get even closer to him. Only then do you feel the nerves consume you once more.

The newfound confidence you had earlier had quickly dissipated as soon as you began leaning down. It didn't help that his natural manly scent was intoxicating. It was warm—you felt it against your face—and it was achingly hard.

You pucker your lips on instinct, accidentally kissing his tip instead. Hajime thought you were doing it on purpose to fuck with him, not realizing that you were tripping out of nervousness.

"Don't be a tease."

"I'm not!" you countered before quickly wrapping your lips around his cock. The warmth of your mouth sent shivers down his spine. But the slight grazing of your teeth on his sensitive shaft made him uncomfortable.

"Ah shit.... less teeth. Gotta hollow out your cheeks a bit."

Your jaw was already hurting. Though it probably had less to do with your skill and more to do with his size. He seemed more manageable with just a hand, but now that you're using your mouth, the task seemed gargantuan now.

But you still try. You do as he says and you feel his entire body relax a bit. It takes a lot of your concentration to make sure your teeth were out of the way and your lips provided enough suction.

That alone had Hajime seeing stars. It wasn't the best blowjob of his life, but seeing that it was your head bobbing up-and-down on his dick was a sensation in and of itself.

After getting used to the basics, you decide to throw in a little bit of tongue action. It caught him by complete surprise and a soft groan spilled from his lips.

Scared that you had hurt him, you were about to lift your head to ask him, but his hand quickly places itself on top of your head. He wasn't rough nor did he forcefully keep your head down.

Instead, he began caressing your hair—starting from the top of your head, going down to smooth your locks. It was his way of reassuring you that he felt fine—amazing even. You were doing a damn good job for someone who hasn't done this before.

Hajime avoided using his voice throughout the whole thing to make it less intimate and more 'educational' if that even made sense. But he understood that you probably needed more reassurance.

"That's it," he started. "You're doing so well... so well for me."

Hajime had filthier things to say otherwise, but again, this was supposed to be 'educational'.

As much as you want to keep up the pace that you built, your jaw was too sore for that. A bit of a break wouldn't hurt, so you retract yourself—tongue lolled out with a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. The sight alone would have made him bust, but he kept his composure... somewhat.

"Oh fuck..."

His words spurred you on, however. You settled on suckling his tip while your hand worked on the rest of his length. Having the best of both worlds made his head spin. His leaking tip was the most sensitive it had ever been and the fast pace of your hand made the coil in his stomach tighter and tighter.

Hajime wanted nothing more but to come in your mouth—consider it as payment for him teaching you. His dick began to twitch again like earlier, but this time you noticed the way his abs would tense up. The dampness that had been pooling in your underwear ever since you had his dick in your hand was starting to become distracting. But you pulled through.

"Fuckkk... I'm coming in your mouth," he announced. Thick white ropes of hot cum painted your tongue. The flavor was odd—something you've never tasted before. It made your face contort a bit.

He tried catching his breath after that single mindblowing orgasm. But through his high, he noticed the hesitation on your face. "You don't have to swallow that you—"

But he stops mid-sentence as he watched you gulp down his fresh seed. You've gone this far—might as well.

Hajime swore that he felt his dick twitch back to life, ready for more. He wasn't sure what you did to him. But now he was certain that you absolutely shouldn't do this with anyone but him.

"Fuck... forget about that moron. Have fun with me instead."

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note Wow... I'm actually kinda proud of this one?

[yanderewhxrewrites]

This Surrogacy Au is just too cute not to write. So here's a little tid bit of daily life in the Bakushima household!

"Katsuki, your daughter won't stop kicking my bladder." You groaned, stretching as best as you could in your current state. Being pregnant was the best and worst thing you have ever experienced. Six months in, and you felt like an absolute whale. It didn't help that the baby was a Kirishima. Your baby was an absolute unit.

You patted your round belly, waddling over to the kitchen to stare in delight at the food Katsuki was making. "I've peed five times in the past hour." You offhandedly stated as headed straight to the snack drawer.

Usually the blonde hero would reprimand you for eating something so unhealthy right before dinner, but the last time he had done that, you had screamed at him for ten minutes straight.  "Good for you." He grumbled, patting your bum as you walked by. You squeaked and glared at the blonde, who smirked in response and went back to focusing on making dinner.

"Is that even possible?"

Your head snapped towards Eijiro, and raised a brow, tilting your head to the side in clear confusion. "When did you get here?" 

"Honey, I was here the whole time." 

"Oh." 

You shrugged and continued to waddle your way to the snack drawer, eagerly grabbing your favorite snack and basically shoving it into your mouth, which made Eijiro chuckle. 

"Oi! Don't eat too much of that trash, or else you won't be hungry for dinner." 

You paused your snacking and glared at Katsuki. "I'm carrying your baby. I can do whatever I want." You deadpanned, shoving the rest of your snack into your mouth to eat.

Okay, you got him there.

Baby momma- 1 katsuki- 0