#I just wasn’t enough of a person when I needed to be and now I feel like it’s too late

[starmocha]

want me, need me, love me [Sylus/Reader ★ 1510 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] When you had made that plan to sell Sylus, you didn’t realize it would come back to (literally) bite you. A/N: This…was originally just a scenario, but I guess it turned into a ficlet in spite of my self-ban that I wasn’t going to write Sylus fics right now until I finish Bride of the Dragon King. In my defense, it’s only appropriate to post this during the cat banner and I always lie to myself <333 Snuck in some light breeding kink because @yourlocalcatscammer got into my brain and I fear I have already exposed myself enough with my last few fics so why bother hiding this anymore 🥹

It was pretend. Just a little ploy.

You knew it.

Sylus did too.

So how did it end up with you trapped underneath him on a couch, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his voice so hoarse and needy? He wouldn’t stop rubbing his cheek against you, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply.

“Sy-Sylus, what’s gotten into you?” You tried to push him off, but he was too heavy, too unwilling, too…gone. Was it because of the special gene product? It couldn’t have possibly rewired his whole demeanor, could it? You vaguely recalled him attempting to snatch a parrot earlier when, for a brief moment, the feline instinct in him was triggered. You continued to struggle. “Snap out of it!”

“Miss…you really are heartless,” he rasped, nibbling on your earlobe, “Letting another woman have me so casually?”

You flustered, confused. “What are you talking about?” You looked up at him wide-eyed, startled by the darkened gaze that peered down at you. You swallowed slowly, your words careful and measured, as if you were soothing an agitated wild animal, “Sylus…it wasn’t personal…”

He narrowed his eyes. “I know,” he said, his tone terse. His kissed along your shoulder, leaving little love bites along the way. You squirmed, feeling your body heating up under his feverish ministrations. He sighed and grunted softly, his touches growing bolder.

“Say I’m yours,” he mumbled into your neck, desperation laced his deep voice. He nuzzled his cheek against you over and over again, behaving just like a frustrated cat. The warmth of his breath ghosted over your skin, making you shivered as he husked, “Let me be yours.”

Want me.

“Sy-Sylus, snap out of it! What are you—ah…” Your words died at your lips, a gasp escaped. He had pushed your shirt up, your bra unhooked and tossed to the side without a care. Without hesitation, the Onychinus leader took your sweet little nipple into his warm mouth, his tongue swirling leisurely around the sensitive nub, making you arched up, gasping and crying from the sudden electrifying stimulation.

He grinded languidly against you, and as he suckled greedily, he murmured, “…touch me…my…my ears…”

Your mind was hazy, teetering between rationality and the growing lust that was clouding your judgement. You looked down at the head of silvery-white hair against you and the pair of cat ears twitching restlessly atop Sylus’ head. Nimbly, your fingers stroked the sensitive feline ear, feeling the soft tufts of fur between your fingers. He hummed happily, and he sucked harder.

“Ah—!”

His hands reached down to grab your hips, keeping you grounded against the couch. He brushed against you, and you trembled, feeling his bulge over your skirt.

“Sy-Sylus…”

He looked up, the normally haughty expression that graced the feared and notorious Onychinus leader’s face was gone. Right now, he wore a different expression, one that only you were allowed to see. He looked at you lust-filled and wanting, his lips slightly parted, soft sighs escaping. His eyes softened a little, enough for you to notice.

Need me.

You felt a burning ache inside you, one that he had started, and one that you knew only he could quell. Those soft crimson eyes of his beckoned you closer, silently urging you to let go, to submit to the growing heat between the two of you.

Hesitantly, you leaned up, taking his lips for yourself, long and slow. Sylus stilled, surprised, seemingly taking his time to register the moment. When he realized you were answering his silent pleas, he smiled against your lips. His ears flattened back as he kissed you deeper, his hands fumbled with both your clothes.

Your panties slipped off, his pants unzipped, and his hardened member freed from its confines. He nudged his hip forward, the head of his cock pressed against your slick folds. You gasped and gripped his jacket.

“…Take me…” he mumbled lazily, his mouth finding your nipple again. Your other breast was massaged, caressed and shamelessly groped, your sweet, irresistible moans lured out, answered by his own deep, sultry groans as he suckled hungrily.

You whimpered helplessly, giving up on your attempt to resist him. You were aching so much right now, wanting and needing him in a way you had never felt before. Your fingers found their way into his hair, getting lost in the silky strands. “…Y-yes…”

He moved forward and you arched up, crying out. More and more of him eased in, his deep groans were intoxicating, your own desires igniting as he filled you, your walls stretching wonderfully around the massive intrusion. You buried your face into his neck when he bottomed out, gasping into his shoulder as his arm wrapped around you securely. He guided you away from his shoulder and you lay beneath him nearly sobbing in frustration. He looked down at you, flushed cheeks and vulnerable. Again, his warm breath fanned against your mouth as he asked softly, “…Can I…”

“Yes!” You interrupted, your moans tumbling out as he started to move, slowly at first before he built a faster rhythm. Again, you vaguely wondered if he was still lost, still submissive to his feline instincts, because the way he was moving was much more animalistic than you would have expected. It was hurried, graceless, feral, but it was filling you just the way you wanted, the way you needed right now.

Every delicious stroke of his length had you mumbling deliriously, lost in this moment of heavenly pleasure. “Mm…ah…ah…Sy…Sylus…”

His lips found yours again, taking your moans selfishly. He groaned as you clenched around him. “…fuck…Miss…”

You cried out as he spread you more, pushing your legs back, taking you even deeper. “Oh god, oh god…!”

“Mm…breed you…need to breed you…make you mine…m…yours…yours…” He was moving more erratic, his words so frenzied and incoherent, you weren’t sure if he was even registering what he was saying. He was driven purely by a natural need, an instinct so feral, he seemed more animal than man in this moment.

You felt infected by him, by his words, your own traitorous body craving what he was saying. “Ah…yes…yes…ah…breed me…breed me, Sylus…” You weren’t thinking clearly anymore. There wasn’t a single rational thought left in your little head. The only thing you could focus on was his powerful thrusts, reaching you deep where you needed.

“O-oh, Sylus…”

So close. So close, you could feel yourself peaking. Just a little more, almost, almost—

“Mm…Miss…inside…?”

“Yes!” You cried out, your pitch higher than normal, so desperate and needy. He thrusted forward, pushing in even deeper with a heavy groan. His eyes met yours for a moment before you closed yours, screaming out your climax as he coated your walls with his seeds, filling you fuller than you thought was possible.

Distantly, you could hear Sylus mumbling in between his moans.

Love me.

“…mine…yours…yours…”

You panted softly, hearing his own breathing matching your own. You moaned, whimpering as he pulled out, feeling his seed dripping out of your cunt. Slowly, you opened your eyes, seeing Sylus’ flushed face close to yours. He still appeared to be under his feline influence, looking dazed and lost.

Your eyes traveled all over, taking in his satiated expression, seeing the sweats on his glistened skin.

“Ah…oh, I have my lipstick on you.” You touched his lips, seeing red lipstick smeared across. You rubbed your thumb against his mouth, trying to wipe it clean. He stopped you.

He smiled, almost delirious with joy. “Good,” Sylus husked, “You should cover me all over. Mark me as yours.”

Before you could respond, his face was buried in your chest again, his arms tightening around your waist. He nuzzled against you, behaving much more docile now. You rubbed the back of his head for a bit, the soothing act calming him even more. It didn’t take long before you realized he had fallen asleep on top of you. His breathing had slowed, the rhythm steady. He seemed much more relaxed than he was earlier.

You scratched the feline ear atop his head, smiling softly when it twitched in response to your light touch. Sylus instinctively hummed softly in his sleep, pleased.

When he would wake up later, you wondered would he even have remembered what had happened? Would he remember how he had behaved, the words he had spoken? Would he deny it? Make excuses?

You smiled.

You didn’t particularly care. You saw the real him. He would always lower his guard around you, always be transparent about how he felt about you, and now tonight, you realized it wasn’t just that he desired you, but he wanted you to reciprocate as well. Wanted you to be possessive of him, to want and need him in the same way that he felt for you.

To be equally possessive of one another, a mutual obsession with one another.

You almost laughed aloud. Why, what an exquisite idea, you thought to yourself.

You kissed your fingers before pressing them along Sylus’ cheek. He purred softly.

How cute.

[seungfl0wer]

*𝑻𝒘𝒐 𝑰𝒔 𝑩𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝑶𝒏𝒆*

Pairing: Snake!Hybrid Hyunjin x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Snakes! Mentions of Blood/Stitches, Fork/Split tongue, Oral(F), Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Biting, Two Dicks (kinda double P), Sorry for any mistakes or Missing warnings!

A/N: My animal knowledge really shows here😂

Series Master List

-🖤

It was rare to see snake hybrids. A lot of them hid in fear of how others treated them. Humans were mean creatures, especially to things they fear. They knew that all too well, so seeing a snake hybrid brought into your adoption center was strange. His scales were flakey, eyes stuck with shed. You could tell whoever had him didn’t treat him well.

No one wanted to be near him most of your colleagues staying away some even squealing. However you weren’t scared, did you like snakes? Not particularly, but you knew he needed help. When you approached him in the little container he was in he hissed. You quickly shushed him picking him up to take him to the sink area. You had run him a small bath, just some water for him to soak in. “I can’t believe you’re touching that thing” someone streaked at your side.

“It deserves the same amount of love and compassion as any others here” you retort looking down at him. You cleaned him up helping the stuck shed off before putting him back with a heating lamp.

“Y/n will you take it home?” Your manager had asked.

“Why don’t you want it here?” You glared.

“Listen, most of us don’t like them. He’s probably not gonna get adopted and we also aren’t equipped to take care of him properly. You at least seem to know what you’re doing.” They rambled.

You looked back down at the snake who was now curled up by your hand. “Fine, I’ll take it home, however.” You said with a small pause. “He’s mine as soon as we leave and I want the next few days off to take care of him and help him settle.” You stated.

“Of course-“ your manager started to say before you interrupted him.

“Paid” you said sternly.

With a sigh knowing he wasn’t gonna win he agreed just wanting that thing out of the building.

You put him in your spare room, getting the necessary stuff for his set up. You watched as he explored smiling to yourself. “Listen, I know you understand me. So whenever if ever you wanna become human. This room is yours. You have free roam where ever. You’ll be safe here, and taken care of” you kept talking.

He laid under the heating lamp listening carefully. If he could laugh he would. He’s heard that before. Knowing damn well his last owner started off with “love” but quickly forgot about him. He never got comfortable enough to turn so what made you think he would here he wondered.

As days went on you grew fonder of him, seeing some of his goofy personality shine through. His scales looked a lot healthier, a beautiful dark shade with glints of goldish color in them. They matched his beautiful piercing gold eyes. He hissed at you a lot however never making any attempt at striking. After shifts at work you’d pick him up out of his tank, laying him on the couch as you watched tv. It was one of these nights that it changed.

You had done your normal taking him out laying him on the couch with a heating pad beside if he got to cold. He stayed there as you cooked dinner only to be startled from his sleep by a crashing sound. He could smell blood in the air his fork tongue flickering at the scent. “Fuck!” He heard you yell from the kitchen with a bit of rustling. He was scared something had happened that someone broke in. In his panic turning ‘human’. He ran into the kitchen only to see you on the floor holding your hand that was gushing blood.

“What the hell happened?” He said making you jump. He looked at you realizing he was ‘human’.

“You turned?” You said almost excitedly.

He couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh “that shouldn’t be the focus right now, you’re literally bleeding” he said before grabbing a clean towel to wrap it around your hand.

You watched him looking over his features. He had a sharp jawline, slim but muscular physique, those gold eyes even prettier. When he started talking your eyes found themselves on his pillowy lips. You could see the small peak of fangs and to your surprise his tongue was split. You were just in awe taking him in not even realizing he was talking to you. Not until he lifted your head with his warm hand. “Hello? Are you listening? You probably need stitches” he said looking at you were furrowed brows.

You only nodded eyes still scanning over him. You grabbed your phone off the counter with your other hand calling your neighbor. He came over taking you to the hospital and you did in deed need stitches.

Your snake hybrid cleaned up the mess. He finished making the dinner you were working on before it happened and sat there. Waiting. Agonizingly waiting. When you came through the door he smiled sighing in relief. “Hey! Thanks for cleaning and- wait you finished dinner?” You said surprised.

“Yeah, how’s the hands?” He said.

“Ah well it’s not bleeding anymore” you said with a laugh.

“I can’t believe you cut yourself that deep, what were you doing? Dancing with the knife?” He teased.

“No this was all just a scheme to see if you’d come to my rescue” you teased back making him roll his eyes. “Since I can properly ask you now though, what’s your name?” You asked siting down at the counter.

“Hyunjin.” He said.

“Good now I can stop calling you snakey” you said laughing.

After that moment Hyunjin didn’t turn back for the most part. Sometimes you’d fined him curled up under his heating lamp, other times he’d be curled up on the couch under lots of blankets. Your routine continued coming home, cooking, sitting on the couch with him just watching tv. Now though, he talked back. He got into the habit of curling up against you when you came home. Your body’s heat always feeling so nice to him.

You came home today more exhausted than normal though. A fight braking out between some hybrids at work. You being in the middle of it when it happened. Today honestly wasn’t as normal as you thought. All the hybrids were acting weird around you. A lot more possessive and clingy. When you walked through the door thinking about it more you realized hyunjin hadn’t came out from his tank.

“Hyune, are you ok?” You asked leaning down over the tank. When he didn’t budge you picked him up like normal his skin scales feeling warm. He hissed at you baring his fangs. “Are you mad at me?” You said softly, making him stop. He slithered up your arm before slithering down your leg. He made his way to the bed before turning back to his human like form.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke. “I’m not mad at you. Ugh” he groaned. “Do you realize you’re ovulating?” He said with a loud groan.

“Am I? Is that why everyone’s been so weird today?” You questioned.

“Probably- god I don’t know how you went to work with all of them. You’re supposed to be mine” he said the end of his sentence trialing off.

“I am yours” you said quickly with out realizing your own words impact.

“Yeah?” He said looking up at you. Those gold eyes had a hint of something in them. “Then let me make you mine.” He said before grabbing your arm pulling you to him.

He didn’t give you anytime to protest before kissing you, his lips warm softer than you’d imagine. His kiss was hungry tongue quickly making its way into your mouth. His hands came down pulling your bottoms down quickly in one swift motion. He was moving so fast, his motions only driven by need. The need to have you all his, a primal need. His sharp fangs grazed your bottom lip as he moved down your neck. It was almost like he was a little vampire with those fangs. He kissed down your body, pulling your thighs up to him.

He licked his lips looking at your dripping cunt “she’s calling me” he said with a smirk before diving into your core. His fork tongue feeling way different from anything you’d ever had before. Both the muscles moving on their own as they lapped at your folds. His fingers came up to graze against your slick before pushing them into you. He curled them hitting a sensitive spot. The moan you let out only drove him to keep doing it. To hear it again and again. Your hands found their way to his long soft locks.

“Fuck Hyune” you moaned out.

“Feel good? Gonna cum on my tongue?” He said with a devilish smile.

You nodded making that smile only grow. He picked up his speed fingers finding another even more sensitive spot. With his pace and tongue lapping at your clit your high crashed quickly over you. Walls tightening around his fingers. He licked a long strip up eyes staining into yours. He wanted to keep going, wanted to keep tasting you all over him but he needed to be inside you. Fuck your smell alone was gonna make him nut in his pants.

He stood up pulling down his pants revealing his two curvy cocks. With shock, eyes widen you blurted out “you have two?!”

He couldn’t help but laugh “yeah, you didn’t know? Thought you read up on me” he said. He took your hand wrapping it around the bigger one “this one’s the main one, and th- this one” he stuttered as your hand grazed the smaller one “this one is super sensitive like your clit” he said.

You nodded staring intently at his cocks. He leaned you back pressing his body against your kissing you deeply. He slowly pushed himself into you, the smaller cock rubbing against your clit. He let out a hiss of pleasure before his mind went. He started pounding into you mercilessly. His smacking against yours. The sounds of moans and skin smacking filling the air with the scent of sex. He had his head buried in the crook of your neck his long fangs grazing so gently at it. “I shouldn’t even let you leave smelling this good, all of them got their gross scent on you.” He hissed. “I’m gonna make sure they know you’re taken.”

His thrusts continued fast before he gripped at your legs pressing them against your chest before drilling into you. The new angel letting him hit at your cervix. “Hyunjin!” You screamed hands coming up to touch his chest. He pulled out fully before pushing hard back into you however he felt bigger. You felt more pressure in your core like somehow his cock grew a size. The pornagraphic sound he let out made your eyes snap open looking down you realized why he felt bigger. His smaller cock has slipped in, your cunt sucking both of them so greedily.

“Sh-shit I- I- fuck!” His head rolled back not being able to even speak at the pleasure. The warmth overtaking his smaller cock making it twitch in over stimulation. He snapped his hips back one more time both cocks pushing deep inside of you before you were Cumming. Cumming harder than you have ever before. His body shook at the feeling. Your walls tightening more and more around him. He gripped at your hips harshly digging his nails into you. He cried out as his release finally spilled out painting your walls white.

When you stared to squirm a bit trying to adjust yourself, the movement pushing him deeper into you making him whimper. “D-don’t move” he pleaded. You realized his smaller cock was still hard. You smirked up at him before moving away only to push back on him. He gasped almost like the wind was knocked out of him. His hands tried to stop your movement but one more push back his smaller cock was cumming.

He had the most intense orgasm, his body shook body falling to the side of you. He tried regaining his breath “I’ve- I’ve never- with my smaller” his words coming out choppy but you knew what he meant.

You pushed some of his hair back kissing him softly. “M’sorry for- I should have asked” he said still out of breath.

“It’s ok hyune honestly after today kinda needed it” you said with a smile.

“Gl-glad I could help.” He said nuzzling his head into your neck. His breathing was still heavy as you stroked his back.

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💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

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[syngirl]

I think it says way too much about me that this is what got me to write in French again. Read the images clockwise from the left

He had worn many an awkward costume for a mission. Yet it wasn't the South American cabin boy, the Japanese general or even the medieval armor that bothered him the most. It was simply himself, but dressed in a skirt, blouse and cardigan, that stirred his mind. Tintin was normally a fairly analytical person, his inner voice tirelessly typing whenever he wasn’t, but now, when he needed it more than ever, it was silent. In this logical void that crossdressing had created, his thoughts, fond of connections, only managed to make one: the times he had already had the same feeling. With equal parts horror, fascination and catharsis, he thought about that dense and heavy warmth that lined his mind. How many times it had appeared without ever being recognized. His love of marbles when he was a kid, motivated not by the simulacrum of gambling that so captivated his classmates, but by a fascination with his mother’s jewelry that he could only respond to through this pastime suitable for a boy. His intense desire to write a report on feminist groups in Brussels, a desire which was blocked by an unusual social malaise. His meeting with his physician, who had diagnosed him with a testosterone deficiency as indicated by his lack of body hair and velvety skin. 

“There are treatments for your condition you know, your appearance must be horribly embarrassing for a man your age.” the doctor reassured him.

Yet he never felt any need to “cure” his condition. He admires himself in the mirror, and has to admit that this appearance is at the very least pragmatic, just the clothes are enough to pass for the new secretary of the Syldavian embassy. He pets Snowy to calm down, he too seems captivated by his master's appearance. Tintin always had a suspicion that his dog knew more than him, too bad he couldn't express it. 

The Captain waits for him at the entrance to the locker room, and cannot suppress a sailor's whistle at his appearance. Tintin blushes, obviously, but he takes the time to contemplate his friend. He knows that their relationship drew its strength from their differences, but this was the first time he considered the physical dimension. This strong, bearded and rough old sailor is a model of male morphology, unlike him. There is little time for anatomical analysis though, the political issue is the immediate priority. However, when boarding the streetcar, a striking observation forms in the reporter's mind: he prefers his immediate feminine appearance to a masculine ideal.

Blistering Barnacles! This illiterate postman has once again delivered the Cutts’s rubbish to us!

It is rather the Captain who is illiterate, for he did not notice that the few women's magazines he had in his hands were addressed not to Miss Margaret Cutts, but indeed Tintin. The Syldavian diplomatic crisis resolved, he returned with Snowy to his library in Moulinsart to bury himself in the pile of books, dissertations and articles that he accumulated on his desk, a necessary relaxation at the end of any adventure. Tintin is hardly picky with his reading choices, and so in the middle of the mountain of political, historical, geographical and linguistic literature essential to his journalism, there were Miss Cutts’s girls’ magazines which were found in the Moulinsart mailbox. The first evening of his reading period was dedicated to finally reading these rags so innocuous but so threatening. The very next day he subscribed to all the publishers he could find before making a trip to town to obtain more serious literature. The following week, he put on his best feminine voice to order clothes over the phone. 

He does not yet have a real mental conception of this desire within him, he simply responds to a joy that is just as, if not more fundamental than a successful report or a resolved adventure. Fortunately for him, there is no question of taming capricious sources or risking an international incident. All he has to do is put on red striped sports shorts and a matching tank top, then admire himself in the mirror he had installed in his room. His fingers run through his flowing hair, which now reaches his shoulders. For as much as his quiff was a recognized aspect of his public image, the searing synthesis of resentments for his appearance that he had carried out had come to the same conclusion as his marbles. He didn't like the quiff on its own as much as it was a substitute for the hairstyle he never had. The symptom of a series of trying events that he had never treated out of contempt for the barber. Slightly trendy hair like he has now may be less memorable, but it's who he really is. He takes Snowy and holds him at eye level. He licks his cheeks happily, prompting an even wider smile from his owner. 

The first time he left his room wearing his new wardrobe, he had done everything not to attract the attention of his friends. Now he exits through the main entrance, his posture tall, his expression confident. Haddock looks up from his newspaper in emphatic astonishment

What goes on Tintin? You only needed to disguise yourself as a lady once, but this is the third time you've gone out like this!

Tintin, hand on hip, only responds with a flirtatious smile. He walks into the hall, but the cavernous acoustics of the mansion allow him to hear the Captain speaking to Nestor.

I swear, since she, sorry, he put on that skirt, something has come over this kid. I adore him Nestor, he is my anchor and so much more,, but I no longer know how to approach him. I worry about him and his loneliness, but at the same time I have the impression of witnessing the birth of something big in him.

Change is the only constant, sir.

Tintin listens closer

I think he who spent his whole life sailing on a lake just discovered the ocean Nestor. 

A new whirlwind of emotion seizes Tintin. Not just the Captain's unusually touching words, but his mistake. A truth found in Whiskey no doubt. She. Steps becoming lighter and more assertive, he or she heads towards Professor Calculus’s garden, their favorite place to meditate, contemplate and sunbathe. He is there, still pruning his roses when he notices the visitor

Good day madam! He exclaims.

They lie down on the grass, her well-groomed skin exposed to the sensations of spring. She. Madam. It was obvious, a truth that she had continued to deny. Not anymore. Under the shade of the rose bushes, she had found the solution to this riddle. 

It was always helpful to have a renowned scientist in your social circle. It took him a few weeks to come to terms with his friend's real identity, not out of social rejection, simply because he sincerely believed that the real change was abandoning a career in journalism to go play tennis. Once he understood, the Professor called a Danish medical institute that he had learned of during a conference, and they accepted the new patient. Her papers, but above all, her loved ones call her Justine. The psychological reality clarified, her condition was no longer a defect, but an asset. She would be a perfect candidate, with minimal treatment required. A few prescriptions and a year later, she really needed to wear a bra, among many other changes..

 It wasn’t just her physical appearance that was important, of course. She spent long hours in the living room chatting with Haddock, Snowy asleep on her lap. They discussed all the things they had never known how to tell each other, from Haddock's difficult childhood, to Justine's regret for her colonialist journalism, the Captain's worst years at sea, then the trauma she experienced from her consecutive adventures. Haddock admitted that he was homosexual, and that his affection for Justine extended to that dimension. He knew it wasn't appropriate, but was also too upset to admit it. Justine has no romantic interest, but thanked the Captain for always loving her for who she is.

 Haddock wasn't the only one opened up by Justine's transformation. It was with great nervousness that she had sent a letter to Tchang going in depth about her thoughts and feelings. They managed to connect an international line, and the phone bill the following month nearly gave the Captain a heart attack. Despite their distance, Tchang had always been her greatest confidant, and the insights he provided for her were immense. He once spent an entire evening reading lines of Tao poetry and discussing them with her, finding solace in their reflections on inner peace beyond gender and the material world. There was also plenty of giggling and enjoying each others’ company. He hinted he might move to Europe for further education, and she could not be happier about it.

 Most surprising of renewed relationships turned out to be the Castafiore. She proved to be much more comfortable with other women, and thus was incredibly generous and wise towards the unknowns of her new protégé. It took a few rough months, but thanks to the hairdressers, tailors, etiquette teachers and even just the social environments recommended by the singer, Justine had made up for the years she hadn't lived as herself.

She’s a little anxious, but she knows she’s ready. Trendy red skirt, flattering sweater, flirty necklace and armband, she is exactly who she wants to be, and the confidence she feels is palpable. She tightens her ponytail, it's now 11 o'clock sharp. She enters the office of Gérard Pelletier, her first lead in a story of questionable aerial activity in the Canadian Arctic. The stocky man looks at her. An amiable smile appears.

“Miss Justine, a pleasure to meet you!”

The anticipation of Justine's first adventure is mind-boggling.

“Smile for the camera!”

Justine, in a vain mood, wonders which is more dazzling, the flash, or her? She is right to think so. The bouffant golden hair, the sparkling eyes, the magnetic smile, her picturesque silhouette, all dressed in a low-cut mini dress and matching high heels in “blizzard” white, a journalist's portrait has rarely been so stylish. Haddock made fun of her friend a little, asking her if it was a photo session for an international scandal or a gossip column in Paris-Match. Justine is not naive, she knows just as well that such a getup is inappropriate for the arrest of a group of airborne polar mercenaries led by Dr. Müller, which is why the high fashion shoot would be a whole small black and white box at the end of the article. The real attraction was the original photo, which would go into Justine's private possession. 

Of course, it's not all flattering photos, Justine's new life had its own challenges. It's difficult to be taken seriously by ne'er-do-wells when you're an attractive young woman, especially when your very existence is a known story and a bit of a scandal in its own right. Fortunately, all this is minimized by Justine's experience with these types of folks, and the Captain's promise to rough up those who wouldn’t keep their mouths shut. Despite the intense atmosphere of the studio, Justine is calm. The few old photos of her that exist are so formal, so uncomfortable. Justine is beautiful, and she will flaunt it, even if it means indulging her unscrupulous editor to have professional risqué photographs taken of her.

So many pleasantries at this Polynesian villa, for a panorama of the elite is present at this party, their tailored jackets and dresses replaced by ridiculous Hawaiian shorts and swimsuits as garish as they are diminutive. The relaxed atmosphere hides the shared truth: they are all criminals, celebrating their host Armando Biancana's ingenious plan, a revolution in the activities of European organized crime. French, Italians, Irish, English, Greeks, Spanish, Turks, Georgians, Bordurians, all will send their money to one of Biancana’s many Pacific islands, thus increasing their profits and Armando’s. So far from the authorities, he will be invulnerable. Sicily, the south, then all of Italy will bow to his financial power. With victory assured, prosecco is abundant on the idyllic beach. 

The hole in the plan is the only guest present who doesn't seem ecstatic. Unlike all the other women present, she is not dressed in a pop art atrocity, but a sky blue one-piece swimsuit of distinguished elegance. With wine at her lips, lying parallel to the pool, her shapely thighs invite eager glances from almost everyone present, regardless of gender. Who is this looker? No one dares to ask her.

A subtle peripheral glance to check that there are no more admirers, she draws a pistol from her handbag and turns towards the crowd. Both her glare and her gun are aimed at Armando.

“Hands up!”

Being all professional criminals, a single armed woman shouldn't be so intimidating, but they are also rather drunk, and the leader, Armando is sobbing. It was she who had determined his place of residence, it was she who had stolen these important documents, it was she who had sent the letter suggesting this reception. The Interpol speedboats are rushing towards the beach, his empire has foundered. All because of that stupid girl with her nose in his business.

The criminals are now on their way to the cellular plane to Paris, and there is only Justine, the Thompsons and a few police officers still on the beach. 

“Miss Justine, this arrest was exquisitely beautiful.”

“I would even say more, this arrest was of a bequisitely exutiful.”

A smile forms on her face, ah those Thompsons. 

“We are no longer needed for the operation, our boat will leave soon.”

They both pull on their collars, both soaked with sweat.

“We should have learned our lesson after Khemed Thompson.”

“I would even say more, we should have learned our khesson after Lemed Thomson.”

Justine allowed a giggle.

“Do what you have to do, given I’m appropriately dressed, I have something left  to do here.”

She waves them goodbye, and can't help but laugh again when they both trip over the same seaweed. It is at this same moment that Snowy comes out of his hiding place, happy to run on the sand. Justine kneels next to him.

“Do you want to enjoy the tropics, my dear Snowy?”

He barks to affirm, receiving pets from her.

"Me too"

With bare feet, a bathing suit glistening in the sun and her hair reaching the middle of her back, she walks towards the water, as turquoise as her outfit. It’s been 10 years since she last swam for fun. 10 years since she could allow herself to be happy. Besides the adventure and the attention, the real journey she experienced was to relearn how to live without limits. That she no longer needed to stop herself from these things that she had thought impossible. Her friends, her fashion, her appearance, her hobbies, her social life, all rediscovered with her true identity. Compared to these radical transformations, there is little practical importance to recreational swimming. Right now it is simply a conclusion. There would always be pitfalls in her life, but none as big as the lie that had imprisoned her. The days of doing so much without distinction are over. She dives beneath the waves and admires her weightless self, her body perfect in the sunlight. A wave of euphoria takes hold of her. This simple observation is worth more than walking on the moon. 

Girl Tintin

[emmyrosee]

SAKUSA ANGST??????❤️

By the time Kiyoomi gets to home, the moon is halfway past the skyline and high in space, and the bright light trickles through the blinds, carving your disappointed features while Kiyoomi jumps at the sight of you, standing firmly in the living room.

"Jeez," he snickers, putting his keys on the counter. "You scared me, baby, what're you doing up-"

"I know, Kiyoomi."

His brows furrow in confusion, but behind his dark pools, you see shame. And his eyes always gave him away. “What? What’re you talking about?”

You blink lazily, “I saw Hinata. You weren’t with him. Told me you never even texted him.” You shake your head, “if you’re going to commit adultery, make sure you have all your bases covered.”

He stays silent for a moment, letting his eyes cast down and avoiding your judgmental, hurt gaze. A hand comes up to scratch the back of his head, pick at a hangnail, jam into his pockets, anything and everything to not meet your betrayed looks.

“How long?”

“Baby, I-“

“Do not pull that manipulative shit on me,” you say exhaustedly. “Don’t start with that nonsense. I want to know how long. And I want to know who.”

He finally meets your eyes, “I made a mistake-“

“No no. New couples make mistakes,” you snap, hoping that by yelling out your frustrations you won’t cry the hot tears swelling in your waterline. “We’ve been together three years, you don’t get to make those kinds of mistakes, you don’t get to tell me not to worry about one person, then cheat on me.”

When he slowly lowers his hands, guilt struck in his gaze, you feel bile rising up your throat.

“It’s… your PR manager. Isn’t it?” You chuckle. “Your “work babe”? The one you assured me was over and done with?”

“No no, you’ve got to listen to me-“

“After I specifically begged you to tell me it wasn’t true, after you assured me nothing funny was going down, after you told me you’d gone to their house to fire them-“

He looks away. Darts his eyes again. Your hands come up to cover your mouth, “oh my god… you… went there to be with them- YOU WENT THERE TO BE WITH THEM WHILE I WAS HOME? WAILING OVER YOU?!”

He says nothing to defend himself, and you scream and jump up and out of your seat, grabbing the nearest pillow and smacking him with it. He shields himself with his arms, ducking slightly from your swings, but he doesn’t say anything. Nothing to change your mind, sway your thinking or deny, deny, deny anything.

“You lied to me!” You sob, finally losing your composure. “You lied square to my face, for what! For THEM?!”

“Baby, listen-“

“DONT FUCKING CALL ME THAT, SAKUSA!” You shriek, throwing the pillow down and meeting his teary eyes with your enraged ones. “Don’t FUCKING start with me!”

He calls your name in an attempt to calm you down, extending his arms to create distance, “it was a mistake, I made mistakes.”

“And that’s a crock of shit.”

“I thought I was missing something, and I thought they could give it to me! Honest! It meant nothing, just meaningless dates and kisses to try and fill something inside that I needed, and-

“You are not helping yourself right now, Sakusa,” you pant.

“I wanted to leave them, I swear on my mother-“

“And you couldn’t manage to do that.”

“So now what?” He chokes. “So-So-So are we just done? Three years just gone?”

“Because of you.”

“I’m not going to let this happen,” he sobs, collapsing to his knees and wrapping his arms around your legs. “Please, don’t leave me. I’ll fire them. You can go with me.”

“Clearly firing them isn’t going to make a difference,” you snarl. “Since your tongues been down their throat and god knows what else.” You shake him off your legs and continue to look down at him in distain, “I’ll have the boys send for my things. I’m staying with Osamu. Do not contact me anymore.” You shake him off your legs, and he looks up at you like a kicked dog.

“No-“

“Yeah, you don’t get to say no, anymore,” you snap. “Since clearly you had a hard enough time doing it for them. I’m taking control of the situation now. You will never make a fool out of me again.”

“Please,” he begs, “I hated it, I hated all of it, I-“

“Stop lying, Kiyoomi,” you shake your head. “It’s not worth it. You’re not going to sway me.”

At that, Kiyoomi stops. His eyes blink a line of tears down, his hands rest in his lap, and his bottom lip trembles. You take a deep breath, “please let Osamu in when he comes for my belongings.”

He says nothing. He merely continues to stare up at you desperately, pleadingly, and you scoff before making your way down the hall to grab your packed bag. “Unreal,” you hiss. “You are unbelievable.”

“You don’t have to leave,” he chokes. “You can stay here, I’ll leave, I’ll go to Bokuto’s, he’ll-“

“He’ll let you in and stay with him after you have the nerve to cheat on me?” You scoff. “Bokuto is not an idiot. He’s not going to just ignore the shitty things you do because you’re his teammate.”

Kiyoomi knows that if you walk through that door, you’ll never come back. You know it’s tearing him up inside, you see it in his exhausted features and you know it in your soul.

Good.

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part8

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: slut shaming(?)

previous - next

Could you really call yourself an adult now?

I mean, honestly, is there some magical age that makes you a certified grown-up?

If it’s all about age, then nope—you weren’t an adult. Maybe a “young adult” at best, but even then, the life you were living? Let’s just say it was… a bit different.

When everything started happening so quickly, keeping up felt impossible. And let’s face it, that was normal. If you managed to juggle everything with calm composure, you’d probably qualify as Wonder Woman. Life came with its ups and downs, but throw pregnancy symptoms into the mix, and things got extra tricky.

You liked to share what you wanted with others. Talking about your plans openly was just how you were. It wasn’t about bragging; you just enjoyed sharing your happiness. But every single time—without fail—whatever you talked about? It never happened.

That Venice trip you’d been set on for the summer? Canceled.

The dream university? Rejected. That car you were this close to buying? Nope, didn’t happen.

It was like clockwork. Every time.

And the thing was, you never learned. Not really. You’d repeat the same mistake again and again. Life’s law, right? Someday you’d figure it out… though that day clearly wasn’t anytime soon.

Pregnancy, though, wasn’t exactly something you could go shouting about to everyone. That was off the table. But moving?

If you weren’t pregnant, there’s no way you’d have kept quiet. You’d have made sure the entire island knew. And naturally, that would’ve meant it wouldn’t happen.

This time, though, you zipped it. The only person who knew was JJ—and, well, he didn’t really count. Or, okay, maybe he did. Of course, he was important, but not the kind of person to stand in your way. On the contrary, he had your back. He even offered to help you with the whole moving process.

Things happened so fast, you could hardly believe it.

Your dad came home from his work trip, you visited the mainland, met with a realtor friend of his, checked out potential homes—it was like someone had hit the fast-forward button.

You couldn’t decide on anything. You were even okay with a cute little apartment. The list of occupants was simple: you and your daughter. You didn’t need much more.

Your mom, however, had her opinions. She didn’t want a mansion either, but she was firm about the house having enough rooms. One for you, one for your daughter, and a guest room—because naturally, grandma duties. And a yard, because she wanted to watch her grandchild play outside.

So apartments were out. Houses it was. After seeing what felt like a million empty ones, you were ready to scream.

But finally, you found it. The perfect house. The yard alone sold it. You could already picture the memories you’d make there with your daughter. Maybe a swing or a hammock… some comfy furniture on the porch.

You never imagined you’d get so close to your dream so quickly.

It had the three rooms your mom insisted on, was two stories, and honestly, it was beautiful. You loved it. But the idea of living there alone was terrifying.

Still, the deal was sealed.

It didn’t take long—two weeks, tops. When your mom insisted on hiring an interior designer, you didn’t argue much. Secretly, you liked the idea. And once your belongings were packed, it was all done.

All that was left was you.

There weren’t many people to say goodbye to on the island, which was, honestly, fine. Who were you supposed to bid farewell to? Rafe? His family, who didn’t even know you were pregnant? Your friends, who’d probably broadcast the news to the world? No thanks.

Except for JJ.

You’d have been a total ass not to acknowledge his help. Even if his support wasn’t entirely physical, his presence had been a huge emotional lift.

So saying goodbye wasn’t hard.

Ignoring the support he’d given you would’ve been dumb. When you decided to give him a nice surfboard as a thank-you gift, you didn’t overthink it. You just thought about who JJ was—someone who loved the ocean and surfing. Beyond that? You didn’t know much. So you kept it simple. Spoiler alert: he liked it.

You hesitated, thinking a gift might make things unnecessarily sentimental, but he deserved it. Nobody else in his position would’ve treated you as kindly. Even Kooks barely treated each other well. Expecting a Pogue to go out of their way for you? Yeah, no.

But JJ had.

You weren’t super close, but during one of your conversations, he’d mentioned how much he liked the rare nights when his shift ended early. He worked at a pub. In your head, you’d given him two weeks before he got fired—or kicked out after starting a fight. You were that sure of it.

A week ago, knowing the end of his evening shift, you parked near the pub, sitting on your car hood to wait for him. The plan? Give him the surfboard. Maybe even give him a ride home if he needed one.

Fifteen minutes passed. He hadn’t come out.

You started questioning everything—maybe you’d gotten the wrong day? Or maybe you’d messed up the time?

Waiting around for nothing felt miserable. You should’ve paid better attention when he’d been talking about his schedule.

Not that the gift had been planned or anything. The idea had hit you on a whim. You just wanted to do something before you left. After all, there weren’t many people to say goodbye to. And texting JJ a quick see ya felt way too impersonal.

“What are you doing here?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, your eyes shooting up from your phone. JJ stood a few steps away, mid-turn before he stopped and faced you fully. His eyes scanned the car before landing on you.

Quickly, you shoved your phone into your pocket. “Making sure you didn’t pick another fight.” Sliding off the hood, you smirked.

JJ rolled his eyes, flashing you a sarcastic smile. “Ha-ha. How funny.”

Unlike him, your grin was genuine. Why should he have all the fun pissing people off? It was your turn.

Unlike him, your lips curled into a genuine smile. Was it always going to be him getting under your skin for his own amusement? No, this time, it was your turn.

You heard him say your name, his tone serious. “No, really. What are you doing here?”

Keeping surprises wasn’t exactly your specialty, but you couldn’t resist messing with him a little. After all, this was the first time in days you’d left the house—and only in your baggiest clothes. Might as well enjoy it.

“Just hanging out.”

He frowned, his eyes scanning the area before gesturing around. “Here? Outside the pub?”

The confusion on his face was nearly comical—borderline annoyed, maybe?

You mirrored his glance at the surroundings, raising your eyebrows. It wasn’t much to look at. Just… a place. “What’s wrong with here?”

JJ let out a frustrated sigh, and for a moment, you couldn’t believe you’d actually managed to annoy him. He genuinely looked upset. “Are you serious right now? You—” He stopped himself, clenching his jaw as he stepped closer. Lowering his voice, he added, “You can’t drink. You’re not even supposed to be hanging around.”

So, he thought you’d come here to drink? That’s why he was so worked up?

It was kind of… cute. But poking the bear was way more fun.

You let out a dramatic hum as you crossed your arms. “Not allowed? Says who?” You tried not to laugh at the look he shot you, a mix of exasperation and disbelief, like you’d lost your mind.

“Me. You’re not drinking. Not here, not anywhere. Have you lost it?”

Your lips pulled into a grin, and despite his attempt to scold you, his irritation only made it funnier. Especially since you hadn’t even done what he was accusing you of.

The second JJ caught onto what you were doing, his annoyed expression melted away. As your laughter echoed, he pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly unimpressed. “Yeah, yeah. Hilarious. Now, can you just tell me what you’re actually doing here?”

You clutched your stomach, your laughter dying down into a lingering smile. Sure, he wasn’t amused, but you were, and that’s all that mattered.

“I’ve got something for you.”

JJ’s eyebrows shot up. He straightened, intrigued. “Yeah?”

You stepped away from the car’s front, glancing back to see him still rooted in place. You gave him a quick head nod to follow. With a sigh, he finally moved. “If this is a gun for self-defense, just so you know, I’m not really clear on the rules here,” he joked with a wink.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Please. If I gave you a gun, you’d be arrested in, like, two seconds.”

He laughed, but you could tell he was curious now. Opening the back door, you reached inside. “It’s a thank-you gift. Kind of.”The surprise on his face was priceless. He clearly wasn’t expecting this. Honestly, neither were you until the idea struck.

JJ tilted his head, his expression skeptical. “Thank you? For what? For telling you not to pick fights?”

You rolled your eyes. He couldn’t be serious. “No, JJ. For helping me out.”

He smiled, but it was that classic, goofy grin of his. Any trace of his earlier irritation had completely vanished. He didn’t even glance into the car. “Oh, I get it. Like a ‘without JJ, my life would’ve fallen apart’ kind of thank you? Go on, feed my ego. I live for this.”

For a split second, you considered slamming the door and driving off. Instead, you laughed. Sure, there was some truth to what he said, but no way were you letting him win.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door wider and stepped back. “Nope. It’s just a small gesture. Don’t read too much into it.”

JJ walked over and held the door open, his eyes going wide when he spotted the surfboard wedged into the backseat. His fingers ran over the smooth edges and the blue-and-white design. “You got this for me?” he asked, his voice softer now as he inspected it.

You couldn’t suppress your grin. “Yeah. I mean, I know it’s kind of random, but I figured you could use your own board for a change. For everything you’ve done—” You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “It meant a lot.”

JJ’s smile was different this time. It wasn’t cocky or teasing. It was genuine. “If I don’t take this, I feel like you’d be really annoying about it,” he muttered, pulling the board from the car.

“Absolutely. You wouldn’t want to hear me talk about how I poured my heart into its design,” you teased.

He froze, eyes narrowing. “Wait—you designed it?”

You smirked, holding his gaze. “No. But it’s nice that you believed it for a second.”

JJ laughed, shaking his head as he leaned the board against the car. For once, he wasn’t mocking or making jokes. Instead, he looked at you with something softer, something you couldn’t quite place. “This is… perfect. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know. I just wanted to.”

He hesitated, glancing at the board before meeting your eyes again. “I was just trying to help. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

And that was it, wasn’t it? That’s how it felt. Deep down, you’d even envied the way he was with his friends. He didn’t know you. In fact, he hated your group. But if he treated you like this—who knew how he treated his friends?

You weren’t used to people doing things for you without expecting something in return. Sure, you had a hunch JJ liked money. Not just you—everyone on the island knew that. But still, the way he talked to you, made time for you… it mattered. It broke the prejudice you had against him.

It wasn’t anything grand. He didn’t buy you houses or cars. He didn’t shower you with jewelry. But he talked to you like no one else did. He made you feel—like you were someone. Like someone whose decisions shouldn’t be dictated by anyone else’s words.

And that? That was worth more than jewelry. More than anything money could buy. It was something most people—Rafe included—didn’t have.

From the moment he heard, he didn’t tell anyone. What friend would do that? Ruthie? Sophie? Who?

JJ did.

And he wasn’t even your friend.

That’s why it mattered. He was just being himself, and you needed that.

“It felt like that.” JJ was holding the surfboard, his eyes catching yours. A strange silence fell between you. Neither of you had expected such a gesture—not just surfing, but the support he’d given you.

You hadn’t expected his support; that was his gesture to you. And he hadn’t expected a surfboard from you; that was your gesture to him.

JJ lifted the board to examine it, the usual smirk still on his face. He was clearly trying to ease the tension hanging between you. “So, I have my own board now, huh? I don’t have to give this one back, do I? Because when it comes to stuff like that, you’re pretty stubborn.”

“No, it’s yours,” you said, smiling. You were grateful for his teasing—it cut through the awkwardness. You could’ve stayed silent for hours. “But if I catch you getting into another fight, I’ll beat you with that board.”

JJ laughed, shaking his head. His gaze flicked between the board and you. He was ridiculously excited about the surfboard but trying hard not to show it. “Fair deal. But just so we’re clear, every cool move I pull off with this board? I’m crediting you. ‘Thanks to Princess for this wave,’ that kind of thing. You’re my sponsor now.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny his antics made you laugh. He was fun to be around. You were glad the whole “status” nonsense between you two seemed to be fading. It wasn’t just you—he had his own assumptions about you too. But it felt like you’d both moved past that. “Okay. Sponsorship’s over. Go find your wave.”

JJ carefully propped the board against the wall, his expression softening. “Jokes aside, thanks. I mean it. This means a lot. Just don’t tell anyone I said that—gotta protect my image.” He smiled, dimples showing as he ran a hand through his hair.

You smiled back, nodding quickly. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe.”

As you both grinned, JJ’s eyes flicked from you to the surfboard. Following his gaze, your eyes drifted to his hands, gently tracing the board like it was fragile.

“I’m leaving the island tomorrow.” The words tumbled out, and you saw his hands freeze. His gaze landed on you, but you kept your focus on the board, pretending to admire its design. It really was a beautiful surfboard. “So—I wanted to say thank you.”

His blue eyes pierced through you as if that was even possible. JJ didn’t say anything to make the moment heavier, just nodded. For several seconds, neither of you spoke. Realizing the air had gotten heavier, you shifted your tone to something more casual. “I could drive you home if you want.”

You weren’t the kind of person to offer, but making him carry a surfboard all the way home felt cruel.

JJ opened his mouth to respond, but a car horn blared from down the street. Both of you turned toward the sound. Outside the car, John B and Kiara were leaning against it, with Pope, Cleo, and Sarah visible through the windows. Pope waved at JJ from where he hung halfway out of the window.

When Sarah’s eyes met yours, you instinctively tugged at your shirt. There wasn’t anything visible, but still—you felt uneasy. “Wow,” you said, feigning amusement. “Your entourage is here.”

JJ hesitated, looking momentarily torn. Finally, he sighed, a guilty smile creeping onto his face. His gaze dropped to your hand still fidgeting with your shirt. For a split second, it seemed like he wanted to grab your hand, to stop you.

“Nothing’s showing,” he said, his eyes lingering on your waist. You knew that, but the idea of anyone finding out still terrified you. Especially someone from Rafe’s family. He didn’t want them to know, and neither did you. That’s why you felt the need to be extra cautious around Sarah and Wheezie.

“I know. It’s just—” You stopped, shutting your eyes briefly before opening them again. It was paranoia, but understandable. “Relax. No one knows, I swear.” His hand almost reached out to your arm, but he stopped, remembering his friends were watching from the car.

“Go,” you said, shrugging. You composed yourself. “Looks like you’ve got a ride after all.” You smiled.

JJ paused for a beat, then flashed a crooked smile. He hated the awkwardness lingering between you. “If this board isn’t as good as you said, you’re getting an earful. I’ll call you.” He walked backward, teasing. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words.

As you walked toward your front door, you noticed his movements slow. He stopped, turned, and looked back at you. It was like he’d remembered something he’d forgotten to do. Placing the surfboard down gently, his eyes briefly darted away from yours.

Then he walked up to you and stopped right in front of you. After a brief, silent pause, you felt his arms wrap around you. Was he… hugging you? Seriously? The gesture caught both of you off guard. You’d never imagined this kind of closeness. But then again, you hadn’t imagined buying him a surfboard either. So, it didn’t feel wrong. If buying him a gift made you feel this close, then it wasn’t strange that he’d feel close enough to hug you.

You returned the gesture, wrapping your arms around him. His grip was firm, and the scent of salt and ocean filled your senses. How did he always smell so much like the sea?

The hug was short, but both of you felt the strangeness of it. Once again—you felt like you’d crossed a line. Broken some unspoken rule.

JJ shrugged as he pulled back. “Yeah, that’s it. See you, uh… whatever.”

You took a deep breath, watching him stand there. You hated goodbyes. You were going to miss this island, and now—

“Yeah… goodbye.” You pushed your hair behind your shoulders, trying to steady your voice. You didn’t understand why you felt like you were losing a friend. Like you were going to… miss him?

Stop. Don’t even think about it.

JJ nodded, picking up the surfboard as he walked toward the car. You watched him for a moment before turning to the front door and stepping into your car. Through the windshield, you caught a glimpse of Kiara muttering something to Sarah. Whatever she was saying, you couldn’t hear.

When JJ got into the car, he paused, lowering his head for a brief moment before looking outside again.

He mouthed something to the group. Not to you, but to the friends in the car. “Just shut up.”

When he gave you a quick nod, you returned it before starting your car. Watching them drive off, you felt a strange mix of relief and melancholy. You’d thanked JJ, and that was all you wanted. It was done.

Except for the quiet ache of losing a friend.

You’d left only a few clothes back at the house on the island. The furniture and everything else stayed in your room. Your parents insisted the room remain untouched—they wanted you to know there was still a home for you there. They even promised not to change a thing.

The first few months were bound to be hard; you knew that. Living alone was going to take some getting used to. But you hoped it’d all be worth it when you finally held your baby.

Now, you were sitting on the couch in your new place, sipping a green smoothie. You’d have given anything for a coffee, but pregnancy meant sacrifices. A little caffeine might not hurt, but you didn’t want to risk it. The smoothie was healthy, though it tasted awful.

It had only been six days since the move. You’d allowed yourself time to explore the area, taking walks around the quiet streets. Your parents had offered to stay with you for a few days, but you politely declined. You wanted to settle in on your own. Leaning on their warmth and presence only to have it ripped away later would have made the loneliness worse. You couldn’t let that happen.

Morning sickness had eased enough for a few walks, so you’d wandered the calm streets near your house. Quiet, orderly, nothing like Outer Banks. You couldn’t help but compare the two. Everything here was different. The people, the lifestyle—it all felt so structured and tame. But a part of you missed the chaos of the island. The freedom. The absurdity of going to the store in a bikini without anyone batting an eye. That tight-knit community where everyone knew each other’s names.

You’d visited the local park a few times. It was rarely crowded, and you hadn’t met anyone yet. By the time you arrived, most of the adults and kids were just beginning to trickle in.

So, here you were: your own place. Did that make you an adult?

How did adults even make friends? Scratch that—how did anyone past a certain age make friends? As a kid, it was easy. Just ask someone to play with you, and that was it. Middle school? Same thing.

But now? You didn’t know a soul here. What were you supposed to do? Walk up to someone and introduce yourself?

Terrifying thought.

Still, maybe worth trying, right?

-

Socializing wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Your eyes scanned the park’s scenery. The leaves rustled gently in the breeze, and birds chirped in the branches above. A group of kids played in a sandbox, their laughter mingling with the faint sounds of distant traffic.

You clasped your hands over your stomach, exhaling deeply. “Maybe this is good for me,” you thought.

But the whole idea still felt horrifying. Sitting at home would’ve been worse, though. At least you were out, breathing fresh air.

Introducing yourself to someone, though? Out of the question. No anxiety attacks, but your chest tightened just thinking about it. No, you’d just sit and enjoy the park for a bit. That would be enough.

Your gaze dropped to the book in your lap: Healthy Nutrition and Development During Pregnancy. You fiddled with the corner of its cover. Would someone else find this funny? Carrying a guidebook instead of a novel wasn’t something even you would’ve expected a few months ago. But here you were, on the verge of a whole new chapter. Screw what anyone thought—you were preparing for your future.

Suddenly, the bench shifted slightly as someone sat down beside you. The movement snapped you out of your thoughts. You glanced up to find a middle-aged woman with an energetic demeanor. Her dyed-blond hair revealed a hint of gray at the roots, and a steaming coffee cup rested in her hands.

“Ugh, I hope I can finish this before it goes cold,” she muttered to herself before calling out to the playground. “Tati! No running, sweetheart!”

She waved toward the child before turning back to you with a wide smile.

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” she chirped.

You gave her a polite smile, nodding. “It is,” you replied, subtly shifting your book closer to your lap. Her eyes flicked to the book in your hands, narrowing slightly as if trying to make out the title. “Is that a… guidebook?” she finally asked.

You tilted your head slightly. “Yes,” you said simply, hoping that’d be enough to end the conversation.

“A pregnancy guide?” she pressed, her curiosity accompanied by a cheerful smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “How sweet! Helping out a sister or expecting a niece?—Oh, where are my manners? I’m Viola.”

Her question caught you off guard. You hesitated briefly before giving your name. “Uh, no. It’s for me,” you said with a small smile.

Her expression shifted instantly. Her eyes widened, her grin turning stiff and awkward. “For you? Oh…”

You nodded, feeling heat creep up your cheeks. She had seemed friendly at first, but the subtle judgment on her face now was impossible to ignore.

“How far along?” she asked, as if the question was perfectly natural.

“Sixteen weeks,” you mumbled, pretending to smooth the book’s pages. The weight of her gaze made your skin crawl.

“Ah, so young,” she murmured, taking a long sip from her coffee. When she lowered the cup, her eyes lingered on you, as though dissecting every detail. “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Twenty,” you replied, keeping your tone neutral but feeling the words land heavier than you intended. You watched her eyebrows knit together as she took a sharp breath.

“Twenty? You look barely old enough to drive!” she exclaimed, clearly not trying to be subtle. Then, almost conspiratorially, “But… you must be married, right?”

Your hands instinctively moved to rest on your stomach, but you hesitated to respond. The silence must have been answer enough because her eyes flicked from your belly back to your face.

“Oh,” she said knowingly, her smile tightening further. “So… is the father still in the picture?”

What was this, an interrogation?

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat. Was it the tone of her voice? Or the audacity of her questions? Whatever it was, it stung. “That’s not something I need to discuss with you,” you said firmly, fighting to keep the frustration out of your voice.

Viola shrugged, but her scrutinizing look didn’t waver. “Fair enough. But raising a baby at your age, and without… well, you know. It’s going to be tough. Don’t you think this was a bit… impulsive?”

Her words hit like a cold wind. You tightened your grip on your stomach and tilted your head slightly. “That’s none of your business,” you said, your voice harder now.

Viola didn’t back down. “Yes, maybe you’re right. But people talk, sweetheart. And usually, they judge the ones they think made the wrong decisions…” She paused, pursing her lips. “Well, they judge.”

That was all you needed to hear. You tucked your book under your arm like you were putting it in a bag, got up, and said, “I think it’s time for me to leave,” your tone colder than even you expected.

Viola raised a hand as if trying to smooth things over. “Oh, I didn’t mean to offend,” she said, but the look in her eyes betrayed the opposite. “I’m just saying this for your own good.”

You could shove your “thoughts” up your ass.

Turning on your heel, you walked toward the park’s exit. The sound of her coffee cup being placed on the bench and her murmuring words echoed behind you. A fresh start sounded nice, you thought. But a new beginning wasn’t a guarantee of escaping old judgments.

There was no way you were going out to socialize again anytime soon. You hated that woman. With every fiber of your being. The way she judged you with that smug little brain of hers—it made your blood boil. You had no memory of how you even made it back home.

You made yourself some hot cocoa, hoping it would calm your nerves. Honestly, lying flat in the grass wouldn’t have been enough to shake off the anger at this point.

Even though you tried to distract yourself—knowing full well that stress wasn’t good for the baby—it wasn’t working. The incident replayed in your mind on a loop. You were certain you’d shiver every time you walked past that park again.

Who did she think she was, anyway? How could someone pass judgment on a stranger like that? The sheer audacity—it was baffling.

The sound of your phone notification pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. Glancing over, you reached for the phone resting on the couch.

You waited for a reply, but when nothing came, you set the phone down again. At least one of you was having a good day. Even though you felt like you were on the verge of exploding, you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

The sudden ring of your phone startled you. You looked over, eyes narrowing slightly in surprise. JJ Maybank was calling you. Right now.

Pressing the phone to your ear, you grabbed the half-full cocoa mug from the table with your other hand. You weren’t going to drink it anymore. You were too annoyed to even think about washing it, but you figured you could at least move it somewhere out of sight. JJ’s voice came through the speaker, and despite everything, a small smile crept onto your face. For all his antics, he was a decent guy.

Heading toward the kitchen, you heard the cheerfulness in his voice as he began, “Used it this morning.” He was talking about the surfboard, excitement practically dripping from his words.

Frowning slightly, you placed the mug on the counter. This morning? Shouldn’t he have been at work? “This morning? Weren’t you supposed to be at work?”

There was a brief pause before JJ let out a muffled laugh. “Got fired,” he said casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Honestly, with him, it kind of was. You couldn’t help but laugh a little.

You weren’t surprised—of course, you weren’t. With the phone still pressed to your ear, you wandered over to the window and glanced outside. “Figured,” you said, your voice laced with playful sarcasm.

JJ didn’t miss a beat, his tone now teasingly accusatory. “Wait a second. Did you bet on me?”

Smiling, you shook your head even though he couldn’t see it, your attention momentarily caught by a cat wandering down the street. JJ cleared his throat, bringing you back. “No, but I wish I had,” you said.

His response came in the form of a dramatic groan. “That’s the meanest thing I’ve heard all week. You’re better than this.”

You turned around and walked toward the kitchen, your tone a little sharper now. “Get used to it.”

JJ responded immediately, his voice carrying a hint of challenge. “Never,” he shot back. Then, after a brief pause, his tone softened, but he added a teasing edge. “Pregnancy hormones have turned you into a completely different person. And it’s only been six days.”

The way he always knew how to push your buttons—and somehow make you smile instead of snap—was maddening. You found yourself tapping the corner of the table with your fingers, a habit you didn’t even notice until it happened. “I take pride in that,” you said, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

JJ came back stronger, more confident this time. “Hey, do you think it’s the hormones, or is it because you haven’t seen my handsome face for six whole days?” There was that familiar cocky tone, but you could tell he was trying to make you laugh. “I’d bet everything it’s because you haven’t seen my handsome face.”

“Even your surfboard?” you teased, your voice lifting just enough to show you were fully invested in the banter now. You moved toward the living room and dropped onto the couch, your gaze briefly flitting to the TV. But your attention was fully locked on JJ.

“Not a chance,” he replied instantly, almost defensive. “The board’s off-limits. Too precious.”

You chuckled, grabbing the nearby blanket and pulling it over your lap. “Then you’ve lost everything except the surfboard,” you said, shaking your head in mock disapproval. JJ’s laugh echoed through the phone, rich and warm, before he quipped, “You’ve been extra rude lately,” his voice carrying a mix of mock hurt and teasing amusement.

You didn’t just roll your eyes—you sank deeper into the couch, grabbing a pillow to prop yourself up. Of course, he’d called just to mess with you. Was he bored? Had he decided you were the best target for entertainment? “I’ve always been like this,” you replied with a shrug he couldn’t see.

“Nope,” JJ shot back instantly, his tone softer but still certain. A brief silence followed, filled only by the sound of your own breathing, before he spoke again. This time, his voice was a little more sincere. “So… how’s it going? Living alone and all?”

You didn’t hate that he asked. Actually, it felt nice to talk to someone. As an adult—or whatever weird in-between phase you were in—socializing wasn’t exactly easy. It hadn’t been easy on the island either, but at least that had been your choice. This wasn’t.

You took a deep breath, realizing the question was harder to answer than you’d expected. “It sucks,” you admitted finally, the honesty not surprising you in the slightest.

“Why?” JJ’s voice was softer now, laced with just enough concern to feel genuine but not suffocating. It was like he always knew how to navigate these moments without overstepping. And honestly, it was strange—good strange.

You tried to sort through the chaos in your head. “I don’t know,” you said with a faint sigh. “I haven’t really connected with anyone. I don’t know anyone here.”

JJ, ever the problem-solver in his own weird way, jumped in with his trademark ease. “Then make friends with the stray cats,” he said, that classic carefree tone of his bringing a smile to your face despite everything.

“I already have you,” you teased back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “I couldn’t possibly betray you.”

His laugh from the other end of the line was contagious. “Not funny.” 

Fidgeting with the edge of the blanket, you hesitated before mumbling, “Are you okay? How are you?” Somehow, over the phone, it felt easier to ask—less intimidating than it would’ve been face-to-face.

“I’m amazing,” JJ said, his voice taking on a flat, almost robotic tone that screamed deflection.

“Your ego is exhausting,” you retorted, matching his sarcasm. Why couldn’t he just answer the question for once? Did everything have to be a game? “Seriously. How are you? After… you know, that day.”

JJ exhaled deeply, and when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost reluctant. “I don’t live with my dad anymore.”

You sat up straighter, grabbing the remote to lower the TV’s volume. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Packed up my stuff and left.”

It wasn’t exactly shocking. In fact, you were relieved he’d done it. Knowing he’d been living with someone who hurt him was unbearable. But still, you couldn’t stop your brow from furrowing. You couldn’t shake the worry. “Are you staying with John B?”

JJ’s silence was unexpected. You listened to the sound of his breathing, the faintest hitch before he finally answered. “Kind of?”

“What does that mean?” Your voice sharpened with concern. Why was he dancing around the answer when he could just tell you?

JJ sighed again, his tone shifting as though he’d stepped further away from the phone. “They don’t know I left yet. And I don’t want to talk about it.”

He hadn’t told his closest friends? Why? They weren’t the type to judge him. You didn’t know them well, but you were sure of that much. It didn’t make sense.

Even as your worry grew, you knew pressing him wasn’t the right move. “So where are you staying?” you asked cautiously.

JJ’s tone hardened. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.” There it was—his three-year-old tantrum mode. Did he really think people didn’t have the right to worry about him? Idiot.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling your patience wearing thin. “As your friend, I’m allowed to be concerned about your safety, JJ. Just tell me where you’re staying.”

His tone shifted again, this time lighter, more teasing. “Friend, huh? That’s nice. Kook and Pogue forever.”

“Shut it,” you snapped, your irritation clear. All you wanted was to know he was safe. “Just tell me already.”

JJ paused, then let out a soft laugh—the kind you knew was covering up something deeper. Even a toddler could tell. “I stayed with them for a few days. Been figuring it out since.”

You frowned. That wasn’t a solution. “You need to tell them,” you said gently.

He responded with the same stubbornness you’d come to expect, but his tone hinted at a smirk. “This is my problem, princess.” Then, as if to shift the mood, he added, “This is the first time we’ve talked on the phone. Cute, right? Now, tell me about your day.”

Despite the worry gnawing at you, you relaxed just a little. He wouldn’t be joking around like this if things were terrible… right?

You hoped so cause—JJ is your friend.

[sweetpupii]

currently thinking about sleepy sex with ellie :(

omg fnnfnfdnjdn 😖

cw - somno

ellie who cannot keep her hands to herself even while she's falling asleep, needs it. the warmth, needs the feeling of your skin, she needs to be as close as humanly possible if not more.

you barely had any time to get under the covers before her hands automatically found their way under your shirt, palm on your stomach to tug you closer—calloused fingers stroked lazy shapes against your skin. her front flush against your back, lips messily meeting your shoulder with a low hum.

baby had to wake up earlier than usual for patrol and was so fucking tiredddd </3

“my hand's not cold…” the sound of her voice was muffled against your back and as much as she denies it, her hand is definitely cold, freezing I dare to say. this woman is an ice cube most of the time. with that body temperature she might as well be liquid nitrogen pretending to be a person.

( and she takes advantage of it to cuddle. )

“ellie, I swear—get your hand away,” you shot back, trying to squirm away from her cold grip, but it only made her tighten her hold, pulling you even closer.

“mm, stop moving,” she whined, her tone dipping into that sleep-drunk whimper that made your resolve crumble most of the time. “you’re warm… feels nice.” her nose nuzzled the back of your neck, lips brushing your skin.

ugh, so stubborn and clingy.

don't blame her if she starts to grind against your ass while spooning, she just wants to be warm! and honestly it's her body acting purely out of instinct.

it's not just to fuck, it's to soothe herself to sleep.

her hips moved in small, unthinking rolls, completely involuntary, like her body was acting on autopilot. she wasn’t fully there—her needy murmurs were barely coherent, breath hot against your neck as she clung tighter.

even if there's no direct contact she lets out little, groany whimpers on your neck while her hand stills its movements every now and then. hazy mind unable to focus on doing multiple things at once. she's awful at multitasking when eepy.

all she can think about is feels good feels good feels good and how her hand goes to grip your hips, you could be dead asleep and her body keeps moving. the hot, tingly feeling in ellie's lower abdomen making her unable to stop. she'll apologize for her horny actions in the morning with extra kisses!

if you're awake enough to turn around though? ugh, she goes insane.

puffy lips finding your own in an instant, the kiss sloppy and desperately uncoordinated. she goes at it like she's starved, like she'll die in her sleep if she doesn't kiss ( eat ) you right now. her thigh situates itself in-between yours to rub there, feeling the already sticky mess dripping from the fabric of your underwear onto her skin. she’s so grateful for every decision she took in her life that led her to wear shorts as PJs.

the movements don't have any pace or rhythm—she's too tired for that—but they don't stop, she doesn't want them to and the little sounds you make show that you don't want that either.

she feels your thighs clench around hers and the way your hand grips her shirt, the smooth skin on her thigh coated with arousal.

“so good…” ellie muttered while the wet, messy open-mouthed kisses trail down your neck. they start to go a bit slower and less frequent than before as she grows more and more tired. the whiny sighs slipping from your lips sound like a lullaby to her barely conscious brain.

her panties are still soaked but her poor body can't keep going for longer. her own orgasm will have to wait until tomorrow because she's out like light the second you come.

night night. ♡

[jaysng]

when you have to go on bed rest — park sunghoon

frustrated and emotional reader, stuck on bed rest during pregnancy, opens up to caring husband, sunghoon. overwhelmed, she asks him to hold her, seeking solace in his embrace as he gently reassures her, reminding her of her strength. [wc. 1.4k]

PAIRING. husband!sunghoon x preg!wife!reader

GENRE. reader is feeling hurt, so angsty fluff

NOTE. this has been sitting in my drafts for about a month now and i’ve been contemplating whether to post it or not.. but here i am guess

you hated being on bed rest.

every minute of it felt like a punishment. you were used to being on your feet, handling things your way, but now you were confined to your room, relying on everyone else to do what you couldn’t. and while your logical mind understood that it was for the baby, the emotional weight of it all was suffocating.

you sat propped against the headboard, arms crossed, staring out the window like it had personally wronged you. the ache in your back had returned, your legs felt stiff, and your mood was steadily getting worse.

the sound of the door opening broke you out of your sulk. sunghoon stepped inside, holding a glass of water in one hand and a small plate of sliced fruit in the other.

“you didn’t eat much earlier,” he said, setting the plate on the bedside table.

“i wasn’t hungry,” you muttered, avoiding his eyes.

he frowned slightly but didn’t push. “you still need to eat something.”

you sighed, glancing at the plate but not making a move to pick it up. the simple act of eating felt exhausting, and your frustration only grew.

sunghoon lingered for a moment before sitting on the edge of the bed. he didn’t say anything, his gaze quietly observing you.

“what?” you snapped, sharper than you meant to.

he shook his head, unfazed. “you just seem upset.”

“of course i’m upset, hoon!” you burst out, throwing your hands up. “i’m stuck in this stupid bed all day. i can’t even get up to get my own water. my body hurts. my head hurts. and—” your voice wavered, “—and i feel so useless.”

his expression softened, but he didn’t interrupt. he just let you spill it all out.

“i can’t even…” you trailed off, your hands trembling as you clenched them into fists. “i don’t know. i feel horrible. and i don’t want to talk about it, but i can’t keep it in either. i just—”

you broke off, your throat tightening as tears threatened to spill.

sunghoon hesitated for a split second before shifting closer, his hand hovering like he wasn’t sure if you wanted to be touched.

“can you just… hold me?” you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. “please?”

his eyes softened further, and without a word, he slipped his arm around your shoulders, gently guiding you against his chest.

the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his breathing—it was grounding. you let out a shaky breath, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as the dam finally broke.

“i feel like such a mess,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against him.

“you��re not a mess,” he said quietly, his voice calm and certain. “you’re just overwhelmed. it’s okay.”

his hand moved slowly, rubbing soothing circles on your back. he didn’t try to fix anything or offer solutions—he just let you cry, let you feel.

“i don’t know how much more of this i can take,” you admitted, your voice cracking.

“you don’t have to take it alone,” he said simply. “i’m here.”

it was such a sunghoon thing to say—straightforward, without unnecessary embellishments. but somehow, that made it more comforting.

“i hate being like this,” you whispered. “so… weak.”

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his brow furrowed. “you’re not weak,” he said, his tone firmer now. “you’re growing a whole human inside you. that’s… incredible.”

you let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “doesn’t feel incredible.”

“doesn’t mean it’s not,” he countered, his fingers brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “and even if you feel like you’re falling apart, it’s okay. i’ll hold you together, for as long as you need.”

you looked at him, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his eyes.

“thank you,” you whispered, leaning into his touch.

he didn’t respond with words, just wrapped his arms around you again, holding you close like you were the most important thing in the world.

and for the first time that day, the frustration in your chest eased, just a little. enough to remind you that you weren’t alone in this.

© jaysng 2024 | do not repost or plagiarize.

[starkeyslibrary]

FALLING OUT OF FRAME | Part 1

pairing: you x drew starkey

The sound of Drew’s laugh filled the cozy apartment as you scrolled through your phone, settling deeper into the plush couch. It was a laugh you’d heard a thousand times – warm, genuine and utterly infectious. You glanced up to see him standing in the kitchen, stirring pasta sauce in a hoodie that he’d stolen from your side of the closet weeks ago. The sigh made your heart swell.

“How’s it going?” you asked, setting your phone aside.

“Almost done,” Drew said, flashing you a grin over his shoulder. “Hope you’re ready to be impressed by my gourmet skills.”

You chuckled, pulling your knees to your chest. “If it’s anything like last time, I should probably have the takeout app ready.”

Drew pretended to be offended, clutching his chest dramatically. “That was one time! And in my defense, the oven was possessed.”

Moments like this had become your favorite part of life with Drew – quiet, intimate evenings that felt words away from the chaos of Hollywood. For all the glitz and glam of his career, Drew was just Drew with you.

As you watched him carefully plate the pasta, you couldn’t help but feel proud of everything he’d accomplished. His latest role in the Hellraiser reboot was shaping up to be a major career move. And while you knew the spotlights came with challenges, you’d always been his biggest cheerleader.

Later that night, as the two of you lounged on the couch, Drew’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. He glanced at the screen, then sighed.

“It’s my manager,” he said, sitting up. “Give me a sec?”

“Of course,” you said, reaching for the remote to find something to watch.

Drew stepped into the next room, his voice low but audible enough for snippets to carry over.

“…. Press tours…. Odessa …. Chemistry angle?”

You tried to focus on the TV, but your curiosity got the better of you. Odessa A’Zion – Drew’s new co-star. You’d seen her name pop up recently in articles about the movie, paired with glowing reviews of her talent and personality. She seemed nice enough in interviews – bold and charming in a way that made you feel a little plain by comparison.

“Everything okay?” you asked, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

“Yeah,” he said, but his tone wasn’t convincing. “Just.. movie stuff. Our team thinks Odessa and I need to lean into the whole co-star chemistry thing for the press.”

“Chemistry thing?” you echoed, your brow furrowing.

“It’s all PR,” Drew said quickly, his hands finding yours. “They’re talking about a few staged photo ops, maybe some friendly banter during interviews. You know how it goes.”

You nodded slowly, even as an uneasy feeling settled in your chest. You did know how it went – Hollywood loved its narratives, and the lines between fiction and reality often blurred.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Drew added, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You’re the one I love, Y/N. Not Odessa. Never Odessa.”

You smiled softly, but the words didn’t erase the knot in your stomach.

The first set of paparazzi photos hit the internet like a wildfire: Drew and Odessa at a café, leaning across the table as if sharing a secret. Her laugh was captured mid-burst, her hand grazing his arm.

The headlines were just as dramatic as you’d feared: Drew Starkey and Odessa A ‘Zion’s Off-Screen Chemistry is Off the Charts!

You scrolled through the photos on your phone, bile rising in your throat. They were clearly staged, every angle too perfect to be a coincidence. But that didn’t make it easier to stomach.

The worst part was the comments. Fans fawned over the “new power couple”, dissecting every detail of their interactions. People who had once rooted for you and Drew now seemed eager to erase you from the narrative entirely.

When Drew came home that night, you tried to play it cool, but your unease must’ve shown.

“Hey” he said, dropping his bag by the door and crossing the room to kiss your forehead. “You okay?”

“Mmm, fine” you said, forcing a smile.

Drew studied you for a moment before glancing at your phone. His face fell as he recognized the photos.

“Y/N, I –“

“It’s okay,” you interrupted, setting the phone aside. “I know it’s just PR. It’s your job.”

Drew sat beside you, his hands wrapping around yours. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he said firmly. “You’re the one I come home to. You’re the one I love.”

You wanted to believe him. But as Drew kissed your temple and pulled you into his arms, the unease lingered, whispering doubts you weren’t ready to face.

TAGLIST: @princesspeach124 @idiotussupremus @eitaababe @13tter @drewsephrry @drewstarkeyzwhore @cooper8224 @maybankslover @elyseesarchive @ietss @hoelesslyt @wtfdudesblog

[zyhkoo]

🎸 lovers rock

jason x f!reader, 18+, situationship, smut, afab!reader, angst

( he’s so sick of this, yet he cannot get enough )

Jason Todd has known you for a long time. The two of you were friends, or so he thought. Though, he tried his hardest to make something happen— but it just didn’t work and he gave up.

Sometimes, you would get his hopes up a bit and then back to the friend status it is. Jason didn’t know why he would give so much just for you. Sometimes, you would be the person he loved or hated the most in the world. Though he does not understand why he cannot let you go.

There was a family party in the Wayne manor, and since you were close to the family you were of course; invited. Board games were scattered on the floor, Stephanie and Cass were sleeping on the couch, Dick and Tim were somewhere else while you and Jason were in his bedroom.

He didn’t let just anyone in his old childhood bedroom, this room had many memories he’d like to forget or have trouble remembering. And now he was here, with you. You were a bit drunk, just for safe measures— Jason didn’t let you come home.

You were flipping through photo albums while Jason played soft music through his speakers. Jason sat across the bed with a slight frown on his face as he watched you carefully flip through the pages of his photo albums. He felt a mix of nostalgia and discomfort, but your presence provided a strange comfort in the midst of it all.

He took a sip of his drink, swirling the amber liquid within. He could hear a chuckle escaping your lips, “If you drink more, you’re gonna get a bad hangover.” Jason rolled his eyes at your comment.

"You know me well enough to know that a hangover wouldn't stop me from doing anything." He replied, tipping his glass back and taking another swig.

He leaned back against the headboard, his gaze drifting back towards you. "I can handle my alcohol just fine," he added defiantly. "Besides, it's not like I plan on doing much tomorrow anyway."

Jason leaned back further into the headboard, his gaze still fixed on you as he observed your expressions as you browsed through the memories captured in those photos. He wasn’t sure himself what he was feeling. A mix of nostalgia, confusion, and something else he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Maybe it was the effect of the alcohol.

Jason's mind was a turmoil of emotions. He knew he should feel angry, frustrated with your constant hot-and-cold behavior. But there was also a conflicting sense of happiness at having you here, being in the same room as him.

He clenched his jaw, trying to sort out his thoughts, but the alcohol wasn't helping. He let out a sigh, looking at you once more, watching as you chuckled at one of the photos.

“Hey, scoot over. Look at this.” you said. Jason rolled his eyes but moved over, making room for you on the bed. He settled back against the headboard, he watched you excitedly find a particular photo in the album. You sat down beside him, holding the photo out for him to see.

He leaned closer, his shoulder brushing against yours as he peered down at the image. “You’re so cute here.” you pointed out.

It was a picture from many years ago, back when he was a scrawny kid in his early teens. In the photo, he was wearing a Batman onesie, a wide grin on his face as he posed awkwardly next to a younger Bruce.

"Right," he grumbled, taking another swig of his drink, trying to hide his embarrassment. You frowned, “Hey, don’t drink too much.” Jason rolled his eyes, although secretly appreciating your concern.

"Relax, I'm just enjoying myself a bit," he assured you,there was an edge of defensiveness in his voice, as if he was trying to prove something.

You scoffed, “I’m serious.” Jason let out a huff of frustration, his defense crumbling under your concerned gaze. "And I'm serious about being able to handle myself," he retorted, his voice growing a bit heated. "I don’t need you mothering me."

You mirrored his annoyance, crossing your arms over your chest. "I'm not trying to mother you. I'm just trying to look out for you." You replied, your own voice rising slightly. "You don't always have to pretend like you're invincible."

Jason's jaw tightened at your words, the familiar feeling of frustration towards you growing within him again. He knew you were right, but he hated how you always seemed to know what was best for him, even when he didn't want to admit it.

"I'm not an idiot," he replied tightly, his eyes flickering away from yours. You sighed, “Sorry for snapping.” Jason looked over at you, his expression softening a bit at your apology. He knew you meant well, even if sometimes you drove him crazy.

"It's alright," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. "I guess I do get a bit carried away sometimes."

A moment of silence passed between you two, the air still filled with a hint of tension. Jason couldn't help but glance at you out of the corner of his eye, taking in your features, the way your hair fell over your shoulders. For a moment, he felt the urge to reach out and touch you, but he stopped himself, reminded of the complicated situation between you two.

As the first light of sunrise began to peek through the curtains, Jason couldn't help but notice the time had passed.

"Looks like sunrise is here," he mused, his voice low. “Everyone is probably passed out downstairs by now." Jason glanced over at you, he knew what you meant. This moment between you two, sharing a bed, talking in low, soft voices while the early morning light filtered through the curtains. It was a surreal moment, one he didn't want to end, but he knew it was temporary.

“This doesn’t look real.” you muttered. "Yeah, I know what you mean," he said, his eyes fixated on your face, trying to memorize every feature. You sighed as you leaned your head on the pillows, “Are you sick of me?”

The question surprised him. It was one he had asked himself many times, but hearing it from you made everything feel even more complicated.

"No," he said, his voice firm. "I could never be sick of you." He wasn't sure why exactly, but it was the truth. No matter how mad you drove him, how much you toyed with his emotions, he couldn't get enough of you.

You looked back, “Truth?”

"Truth," he confirmed.

"No matter how frustrated you make me, or how confusing things between us are, I can't get enough of you. I... I care about you too much, even when I know I probably shouldn't."

“Would I be an ass if i asked for a kiss?” you said, looking at his gaze. Jason's heart skipped a beat at your question. He wasn't sure if he had heard you correctly. But there you were, looking at him seriously, awaiting an answer. He tried to keep his cool, not wanting to let on how affected he was by your words.

"That depends," he replied, his voice slightly hoarse, "Are you gonna break my heart tomorrow like you always do?"

“I hope not.” you responded. Jason searched your eyes for any hint of deception, any sign that you were just toying with his emotions again. But all he could see was a mixture of honesty and vulnerability in your gaze.

He swallowed, his throat feeling dry, before responding.

"Okay," he whispered, "Just one kiss."

Jason closed his eyes as your hand caressed his cheek, he leaned in closer, his lips just inches away from yours, his heart pounding in his chest.

His body was practically pressed against yours now, the heat between you two almost tangible. You then leaned in and pressed a slow kiss on his lips.

Jason's heart raced further as your lips met his. The kiss was gentle, slow, and it took all his restraint not to deepen it, to pull you closer and never let you go. He melted into the kiss, his hand rising to cup your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek.

Your head hit the headboard with a *thump*. Jason winced at the sound and pulled back slightly, his eyes snapping open to see if you were hurt. "Are you okay?" he asked, his hand still gently cupping your face. You chuckled, “Yeah, keep going if you wanna.”

"You're gonna be the death of me," he muttered. He leaned in again, his lips finding yours in another slow, searing kiss. Your hands slowly trailed up to the hand covering your cheek.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue lightly tracing the seam of your lips, silently asking for entry. You gladly parting your lips, slowly kissing him with your tongue.

Jason drew back, his chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath. His eyes roamed over your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and slightly swollen lips.

"You're so beautiful," he leaned back in, his forehead resting against yours, his hand still woven through your hair, keeping you close. “You okay?” you asked. Jason couldn't help but chuckle softly at your question.

"Yeah, I'm more than okay," he assured you, his breath still slightly ragged from the kiss. "Just trying to catch my breath. You tend to make it a bit difficult to do that, you know."

“Alcohol makes you do crazy things I guess.” you chuckled. Jason nodded, his hand unconsciously caressing your hair, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the nape of your neck.

"Yeah, alcohol and you are a dangerous combination,"

The next few minutes seemed to blur together. Clothes were shed, skin meeting skin, lips trailing over every inch of exposed flesh, leaving kisses, bites, and marks in their wake.

Even in the heat of passion, your concern for him always shone through. You'd pause between kisses, your breath ragged, to ask if he was okay, if he wanted to stop.

Jason would reassure you that he was more than okay, that he wanted this just as much as you did. He'd pull you closer, his hands roaming over your body with need and desire, silently begging for more.

As the last piece of clothing fell away, exposing the two of you fully to one another, Jason couldn’t help but marvel at the sight in front of him. You were beautiful, every curve and freckle seemed to call out to him.

He gently pushed you back against the bed, his body hovering over yours. Jason's hands roamed over your body, touching, caressing, savoring the feel of your skin against his. His breath ghosted over your neck, planting kisses and nips along your skin.

Jason's body moved over yours, aligning perfectly with yours as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and uncertainty. "Are you sure?" he asked huskily, his voice barely above a whisper, his body already quaking with the effort to hold back.

“Yes, just go.” you softly smiled as you touched his cheek. Jason nodded, his mouth going dry at your touch. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, before slowly, gently, he began to move.

His body moved against yours in a slow, steady rhythm, each thrust bringing them closer and closer together. He watched your face intently, his eyes drinking in every flicker of expression, every gasp and moan that escaped your lips.

“Ah… fuck.” you hissed in pleasure. Jason swallowed hard at the sound of your hiss. He couldn’t believe how good this felt, how good you felt beneath him. Every gasp and sigh from you sent shivers down his spine, his body responding instinctively, moving a little harder, a little faster.

“Fuck you feel so good,” he groaned. His lips found your neck, kissing and biting softly. All that mattered was you, the sound of your gasps and moans, the feel of your body moving against his. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hips moving erratically as he neared his breaking point.

He tried to hold on, to draw out this moment as much as he could, but it was impossible. Waves of pleasure washed over him, his body trembling with the force of his release.

As he came apart, he pulled you closer, his hands tangled in your hair, his breath coming in ragged gasps against your skin. He held onto you tightly, as if afraid you'd disappear if he let go. For a few moments, everything faded away, and the only thing in his world was you.

You huffed, “Are you okay?” you asked again. Jason was still trying to catch his breath, his chest heaving as he looked down at you. "Yeah," he nodded, "Yeah, I'm okay." A small, lopsided smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"More than okay, actually." You took his face in your hands as you softly kissed his nose. Jason’s heart swelled as you kissed his nose, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he just basked in the moment, enjoying the feeling of your fingers gently caressing his cheeks.

The early morning light was starting to stream in through the window, casting a soft glow over the room. Jason found himself just staring at you, watching the way your eyes were shining, your messy hair framing your face, your expression relaxed and at ease.

He hoped things wouldn't go back to the way it was before.

[violetskylights0]

Can you please do selvika if her and the reader did nnn(no nut November) like you did with vi (To be honest she would probably be like no 😭) Its ok if you don't want to

I am a Vi girl to my very core but I must give the people what they want. I thought it would be cute and short...and now we have some of the nastiest shit I have ever written. I hope it's everything you wanted and more xoxo. @starisinlovewiththemoon

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Games we like to play (18 +)

Prostitute!reader x Sevika

Warnings: Degradation/Smut/Pet names/Kind of cute?

No Nut November. Just saying it felt ridiculous. You’d heard about it before—whispers in the brothel about Piltover clients and their strange indulgences in self-denial. You’d always dismissed it as yet another quirk of the privileged: something to laugh at, not take seriously.

And it wasn’t like you had the luxury of turning down indulgence. Working at the brothel wasn’t about holding back; it was about giving people exactly what they wanted. Or needed. You didn’t care much either way—clients came and went, their faces blurring together after a while.

That is until Sevika walked in.

You’d known her by reputation, of course. Everyone in the Undercity did. She was Silco’s right hand, the enforcer with a mechanical arm and a short temper to match. People whispered about her in a way that made you assume she was ruthless, dangerous, someone you didn’t want to cross paths with unless you had to.

So, when she first stepped into your room, you froze. The light was dim, but there was no mistaking her broad shoulders, the scar cutting across her cheek, or the way her eyes flicked over the space with a calculated calm.

You expected her to bark orders, to demand something rough or impersonal. But instead, she went to your bar cart, poured herself a drink, and leaned casually against the wall. “Nice setup,” she’d said, her tone low and unhurried.

Her behavior threw you. You weren’t sure what to make of her—this woman who seemed both entirely in control and quietly restrained. You talked for a while, about nothing in particular, and the longer you listened, the more the fear melted into something else. Curiosity, maybe. Intrigue.

A drink or two in, though? That reserved demeanor? Gone. That night, she paid for three hours—and she’d used every minute.

Since then, she’d been your only client. It wasn’t just the money—though she made sure you didn’t need anyone else—but the connection. She was different. Reserved but attentive, with a way of making you feel like the only person in the room. You didn’t put labels on it—Sevika wasn’t the type for that—but it was something. Enough to make you bold.

Which is how this conversation started.

“I heard one of my coworkers talking about it with her Piltover client,” you said, voice light as you trailed your fingers along Sevika’s arm. The sheets rustled between your legs as she came up for air and propped herself up on one elbow, dark eyes narrowing at you in amusement.

“Go on,” she said, her voice low and rough, already laced with suspicion.

“It’s this thing they do. No Nut November.” You tried not to laugh at the words, but Sevika’s expression—a mix of disbelief and amusment—nearly broke your composure.

“No... what now?” she repeated, her lips twitching into a smirk.

You bit your lip, enjoying the rare moment of catching her off guard. “Basically, it’s a whole month where you’re not allowed to... you know.”

Sevika snorted, dropping her head and rolling on her side “You’re telling me people do this shit on purpose?”

“Apparently,” you said, biting back a grin. “Some kind of self-control thing.”

“Sounds like something those Piltover assholes came up with. Too much money, not enough brains.” Her voice was dry, but the faint chuckle undercut the sharpness.

“Probably,” you agreed, laughing softly. “But... it could be fun.”

Sevika stilled, her gaze snapping back to you. “What?”

“We could try it,” you said, keeping your voice as casual as possible. “Just for the hell of it. What’s the harm?”

She sat up fully, pulling her tank top back on as she shook her head. “No offense, sweetheart, but isn’t the whole point of what we do to not hold back?” Her tone was blunt, but there was an edge of curiosity behind it like she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing.

You frowned, the remainder of your undefined “arrangement” stinging a little. But you weren’t about to give up that easily.

“C’mon, Sev,” you murmured, letting the sheet slip off your body as you stood. Her gaze flicked downward for a moment before she caught herself, her jaw tightening.

“You barely have time to visit me these days,” you said softly, stepping closer. “I know things are... hard right now. Silco’s gone. You’re picking up all the pieces. I just thought maybe this could be something to take your mind off it all. Something just for us.”

You reached up, your fingers brushing against her cheek, tracing the rough edge of the scar there. Sevika exhaled, her shoulders relaxing slightly under your touch.

“And,” you added, your voice dropping as your hand moved to her arm, “think about how good it’ll feel at the end of the month. Me, all needy. And you…” Your fingers grazed the hard lines of her bicep, drawing her attention.

“Pent up?” she finished for you, a low chuckle rumbling in her chest.

You grinned. “Exactly.”

She stared at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a heavy sigh, she reached for your waist, pulling you closer. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” she murmured, her voice softening as her forehead rested against yours.

You smiled, standing on your toes to kiss her. Her lips were warm and surprisingly gentle, a contrast to the roughness of her calloused hand as it held you steady.

“Fine,” Sevika muttered against your lips, pulling you closer as she sealed the deal. “Two weeks. But don’t think for a second I’m making it easy for you.”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as you pulled back, excitement bubbling up like steam in a kettle about to burst. For a moment, you thought you saw the faintest flush creeping up her neck, but she turned away too quickly for you to be sure.

“Two weeks,” she repeated, adjusting her cape as if to distract herself. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

You smirked, leaning against the doorway to watch her go. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

This was going to be very, very interesting.

The first week wasn’t so bad. You stuck to your usual routine, and seeing Sevika three times that week made it unexpectedly fun.

Tuesday’s visit to her apartment was a perfect example. She’d summoned you with a cryptic, “Come by tonight,” and though her tone was casual, it always managed to spark a thrill deep in your chest.

Navigating the labyrinth of Zaun’s backstreets was second nature by now, though it still carried an edge of excitement. The quiet hum of the city and the faint buzz of neon lights guided you to her door, where you knocked three times—the code you’d both settled on.

The door opened with no preamble, and there stood Sevika, framed by the dim light spilling out from her apartment. The sight of her stopped you dead in your tracks.

Her cigarette hung loosely between her lips as she fiddled with her mechanical arm, muttering something under her breath. The dark brown tank top she wore stretched tight over her chest, highlighting the sculpted curve of her shoulders, while her black boxers sat dangerously low on her hips. The disheveled look was almost unfairly attractive, and it left you feeling momentarily speechless.

Her sharp eyes flicked up to meet yours, and a small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You gonna stand there all night or come in?”

You slipped inside quickly, your pulse already quickening. She moved to her couch and collapsed into it like she owned the world, legs spread wide, exuding an effortless dominance that made your skin tingle.

Without missing a beat, you crossed the room and climbed onto her lap, settling yourself like you’d been invited—even though you hadn’t been. You plucked the cigarette from her lips and took a long drag, locking eyes with her as you exhaled.

“You know,” she drawled, her tone low and teasing, “you could always ask before you take.”

“And what’s the fun in that?” you shot back, a playful grin spreading across your lips.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward. “Keep pushing, sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice a velvet threat.

Before you could quip back, she had you pinned to the couch, her large hand encircling your throat—not squeezing, just enough to make your breath hitch. Her lips crashed into yours, the kiss deep and consuming, like she was claiming you all over again.

Her knee pressed up between your thighs, and the pressure was just enough to pull a shameless moan from you. The sound made her grin, slow and wicked.

“Ready to give up this silly little game you insist on playing?” she asked, her voice husky as her lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

The reminder of your bet jolted you out of your haze, and you pushed against her shoulders, sitting up dramatically. “You’re already trying to sabotage me!” you accused, narrowing your eyes at her.

“And it almost worked,” she said, her grin unfazed. “C’mon, sweetheart. Give it up. You know you can’t say no to me.”

You scoffed, your gaze darting to the table beside you where her screwdriver lay. With a smirk, you snatched it up and held it out to her. “Give me that.”

Her brow arched, curiosity flickering in her eyes.

“Well,” you continued, shrugging nonchalantly, “since you’re paying for my time, I might as well make myself useful. You looked frustrated when I showed up.”

Her confusion melted into reluctant amusement as she took the screwdriver. “You offering to fix my arm now?”

“Depends,” you said, gesturing for her to sit back down. “Which screw were you trying to tighten?”

She hesitated for a moment before sitting down and explaining the issue. You listened intently, nodding along and offering the occasional suggestion, though you weren’t exactly an expert.

The rest of the evening was spent sifting through her pile of spare parts, sharing drinks, and laughing over failed attempts to jury-rig solutions. At one point, you glanced up from the mess to find her watching you—not with her usual smugness, but something softer, quieter. The look vanished as quickly as it came, leaving you questioning if you’d imagined it.

By week two, though, things got harder—literally and figuratively. Your body betrayed you at every turn, and the tension was maddening. It left you feeling like a pent-up teenager, desperate and all too aware of every brush of fabric, every suggestive glance. But if Sevika thought you’d break first, she had another thing coming.

Which brought you to Friday night at The Last Drop. Sevika’s routine was as predictable as clockwork—every Friday, she’d be at her usual table, gambling and sipping whiskey like she didn’t have a care in the world. It was the perfect opportunity to test her resolve.

You stood in front of the mirror, applying the last swipe of lip gloss and admiring your handiwork. The black leather skirt clung to your hips, catching the faint glow of the moonlight, and your low-cut top highlighted just enough cleavage to make Sevika’s attention inevitable. You smoothed your hair, gave yourself one last smirk, and headed out.

The bouncer at The Last Drop barely looked up before nodding in the direction of Sevika’s table. You spotted her immediately, lounging like a queen among her subjects. Her cigar glowed faintly in the low light, and the subtle curve of her smirk as she leaned back in her chair set your nerves buzzing.

You approached with deliberate confidence, the click of your heels drawing eyes as you stopped beside her. “Is that seat taken?” you asked, motioning to her lap.

The table fell silent, the men and women around Sevika staring openly, their gazes lingering far too long for your liking. Sevika, however, barely glanced at you before leaning back and spreading her legs slightly in invitation.

You lowered yourself onto her lap, adjusting your skirt just enough to let her feel the curve of your hips against her. Her hand settled on your thigh, a possessive touch that sent shivers through you.

She leaned in, her breath brushing the shell of your ear as she whispered, “It’s cute that you thought dressing like a slut would make me jealous. But here’s the thing—they all know you’re my slut. What’s there to be jealous about when they can only dream?”

Her low chuckle rumbled through you as she tossed some chips onto the table, her hand sliding higher on your thigh.

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, but you weren’t backing down—not yet.

Game on.

The game at the table picked up, the noise growing louder with every passing round. You barely paid attention, more focused on Sevika's drink getting dangerously low. Without waiting for her to ask, you hopped up to grab her another. Her hand delivered a quick, casual pat to your ass as you walked away, and you couldn’t help the sly grin that spread across your face.

At the bar, you scanned the crowd for a target. Spiked-hair guy slumped over near a puddle of vomit? Nope. A buzzcut woman giving you that look from the middle of the room? Way too easy. Then, your gaze landed on her: a loudmouth with an undercut and no clue about the pecking order here. Jackpot.

You sidled up to the bar, ignoring her completely at first. Tapping your empty glass, you got the bartender’s attention, who already knew what to pour: whiskey for Sevika. Only then did you glance her way.

“Looks like you’re having a hell of a time over here,” you said, flashing a playful smile.

She turned toward you, the conversation with her friend forgotten. Her eyes swept over you with a low whistle. “And I think I’m about to have an even better one,” she smirked.

Right where you wanted her. But she needed to work a little harder for it.

As she started asking about you, you casually mentioned the brothel. Her eyes lit up like it was her birthday.

“You know,” you said, tilting your head coyly, “I do give discounts to clients who know how to show me a good time.”

“Oh, yeah?” she grinned, leaning closer. “Convenient, since I’ve got some cash burning a hole in my pocket.” Her hand found the back of your thigh, pulling you in just enough to make the air between you crackle.

You felt Sevika’s gaze burning into your back from across the room, but you didn’t turn around. Instead, you leaned into the stranger’s touch, tapping the muscles of her arm teasingly.

“I think I’d like a preview of what the rest of my night could look like,” she said, her voice dropping as she tapped your chin up with her finger.

“Oh, yeah?” you whispered, your lips inches from hers. “Why don’t you show me what I’m working with?”

Just as she started to lean in, you barely had time to process the hand on your thigh disappearing. A blur of movement later, the stranger hit the floor, a guttural thud snapping the air between you.

Sevika stood over her, gripping the fabric of her shirt with one hand.

“I’ll give you five seconds to get the fuck out of my bar,” Sevika growled, her voice low and razor-sharp. “Before I break every disgusting finger that touched my girl.”

Your eyes widened as the stranger stammered something snarky, but it didn’t matter. Sevika’s fist connected with her nose before she could finish. Blood sprayed, and the woman crumpled onto the ground.

Sevika turned to you, her jaw tight, her eyes blazing.

“Office. Now.”

Before you could respond, she grabbed your hand, dragging you toward the back. The door slammed shut behind you, leaving you alone with the familiar tension crackling between you like a storm about to break.

You leaned back against Silco’s old desk, arms crossed. “Well, someone’s jealous.”

Her glare could’ve melted steel. “Jealous?” she barked, stalking toward you. “It’s one thing to show up dressed like that, begging for attention. But you were practically dry-humping her in front of everyone.”

You shrugged, biting back a grin. “Isn’t that my job? Making sure potential clients are… interested in what they see?”

Her growl reverberated through the room as she closed the distance between you. “Yeah, well, from now on, I’m your only client that matters.”

Your smirk widened. “Sevika, are you trying to make us exclusive?”

She chuckled, a low, dangerous sound. “This isn’t about some stupid game. You’ve been trying to drive me insane since day one, and guess what? You did it. Congratulations. Now I’m gonna make you regret it.”

“Funny,” you teased, hopping up onto the desk and letting your knees fall open just enough. “Seems like everything’s going exactly according to plan.”

Her jaw clenched, and for a moment, she just stared at you. Then, with an exasperated chuckle, she stepped between your legs, her hands landing on your hips.

“I knew you’d be the death of me,” she muttered, before grabbing your neck and crashing her lips into yours.

Every ounce of frustration and tension boiled over in that kiss, her grip firm and unrelenting as if to remind you exactly who was in charge now. And this time, you didn’t argue.

You had made out with Sevika plenty of times before. But as her tongue slid into your mouth this time, it was different. There was no pretense, no playful back-and-forth teasing. This wasn’t just a hookup, and you weren’t just some random conquest.

She wasn’t kissing a prostitute. She was staking a claim.

A moan escaped your lips as she pushed you back against the desk, the edge digging into your lower back as her frame towered over you. You gasped when she climbed on top of you, her weight a deliberate reminder of how much control she had.

Her lips trailed from your jaw to your neck, biting down hard enough to leave marks that you knew you’d see tomorrow. “I think I’ll start by ruining this little outfit,” she growled, her voice dark and rich. “Since you’re so set on showing the Undercity what’s mine, I’ll make it easier for you.”

Her metal hand traced up your waist, the cold edge of her finger sending shivers down your spine. You barely had time to process her next move before she dragged it sharply upward, slicing clean through your top like it was nothing.

You inhaled sharply as the fabric fell away, leaving you exposed. Sevika sat back for a moment, her eyes raking over you with a hunger that sent heat pooling low in your stomach.

“Much better,” she muttered, her lips quirking into a wicked smirk as she leaned in, her nose brushing against yours. “But you’re not done paying for that little stunt at the bar, sweetheart.”

Her hand cupped your jaw, forcing you to meet her gaze. “You wanna play games?” she teased, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Fine. I’ll play. But we both know how this ends.”

“Do we?” you shot back, your voice breathy but still defiant. “Seems to me like you’re the one losing your cool.”

That earned you a sharp laugh, her teeth flashing as her smirk widened. “Keep talking,” she said, her voice low. “Let’s see how long you last before you’re begging me to stop.”

You opened your mouth to make a smart ass comment  but it was already to late as she started pinching one of your nipples with her real hand. 

‘Look at these already stiff. You really are a fucking whore.” Sevika said aggresily spitting on your chest before leaning down and licking it to spead over your left nipple. 

You started moaning as she swirlled her tongue and lightly bit at your nipple as your hands shot to her hair. She made sure to leave a few hickeys before quickly tearing through your mini skirt as well quickly dropping to her knees and pulling you to the edge of the desk. 

You groaned, your head tipping back as Sevika pinned your thighs nearly flat against your shoulders. The contrast was maddening—her metal hand icy against your left thigh, the sharp edges biting just enough to tease, while the warmth of her calloused fingers on your right thigh sent sparks shooting through your body.

"Look at you," she murmured, her voice low and taunting as her eyes roamed over you. "Can’t decide if you like it rough or soft, huh? Guess I’ll just give you both."

Her grip tightened, the cold metal sending a shiver up your spine as she leaned down, her breath ghosting over your neck. The deliberate pressure of her hands, one hard and unyielding, the other impossibly warm and strong, had you arching into her without thinking.

“Keep making noises like that, and I might just keep you pinned like this all night,” she teased, her lips brushing against your ear. “Bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the needy whimper threatening to spill out. But Sevika caught it, her smirk practically audible as she shifted her weight, her metal fingers teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“Thought so,” she growled, leaning in to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the hollow of your throat.

You loved when Sevika treated you like a ragdoll with no other purpose than to her pretty little fucktoy and cum. And you were already close to cumming thirty seconds after her tongue started dancing across your clit. The sound of Sevika slurping up all of your juices made you go wild. 

You felt her hand on your right thigh move to your entrance groaning at the feeling of her two fingers stretching you out. 

“Cant believe this pussy is so greedy sucking my fingers in. It’s almost like you get off of me degrading you huh” Sevika moaned continuing her assault on your clit with her tounge.

“Well I’ll make it worth your wild hm? Cum on my fucking fingers like the greedy slut you are.” Sevika engouraged instantly sending you over the edge as your legs began to shake as you called out Sevikas name. 

You barley had time to cathcn your breath before Sevika told you to stand up and turn around to brace yourself against the desk. 

You heard her undoing her pants and feeling something kind of warm and hard against your entrance.

“Thought I would wear this think out to see if it was comfortable enough to bring over to the brothel. Didnt know it would come in handy so soon.” She said pressing into you as the object slid inside of you wour jaw falling slack from the sensation. 

‘W-what is that- oh my god.” You said gripping the desk.

“Saw some women talking about this thing when I was up in Piltover running some collections. I think they called it a strap? Figures your sloppy pussy would take it in one go.” Sevika said starting to roll her hips so the strap started moving in and out of you. 

You had never felt something so good your eyes rolling back as she picked up the speed. 

She gripped your hair with one hand as she moved her knee between yours using her muscular thigh to push you bent leg up on the desk. Increasing her speed even more. 

It felt so fucking good you didnt even have control of what was flying out of your mouth just expletives and Sevikas name.

As the slapping sounds began to echo through the room you felt yourself getting close again As Sevikas grunts sounded like a melody against your ears. 

“ Go ahead screm it louder baby. Let everyone in the bar- no everyone in the lanes know who this pussy belongs to.” She grunted bringing her hand down on your ass with a hard slap as she continued ramming into you. 

“Fuck it’s all yours Sev! S-stresching me out so good.” You slurred feeling your orgasm washing over your. You thought she would slow her pace but as your orgasm began to calm Sevika kept punding into you.

You felt your eyes roll back getting light headed from the pressure. A new feeling building in your stomach. 

“I know you have more in you hm? Show daddy how well you can squirt all over my strap. She said smacking your ass again. 

You shrieked her name cursing her out as you felt a sudden rush followed by a feeling of wetness shooting all over your leg as Sevika groaned at how well you were taking it. 

Sevika finally slowed her pace, her movements deliberate and torturous as she eased out of you. The rush of sensation left you dizzy, your body slack, and your legs threatening to give out entirely. You stumbled forward, but Sevika was quick, catching you effortlessly.

She chuckled low in her throat, the sound vibrating through you as she scooped you up into her arms like you weighed nothing. Carrying you to the worn couch in the corner of the room, she settled down with you perched in her lap, your body still trembling in the aftershocks.

“You’re such an asshole,” you muttered, your voice breathy and ragged. You barely had the energy to lift your head, but the accusation carried all the heat you could muster. “First, you tell the whole damn bar I’m your girl, then you ruin my favorite skirt, and then you fuck me like that?”

Sevika smirked, her hand idly tracing patterns along your thigh. “Mm, don’t forget—I also carried your pretty ass over here.”

“Not the point,” you shot back, though the warmth in her touch had your indignation quickly waning.

Her smirk deepened, dark eyes glinting with mischief. “I think you’re forgetting something,” she murmured, her voice thick with self-satisfaction.

You tilted your head, confused and still trying to regain full control of your brain. “What?”

Her grin was almost feral as she leaned in close, her lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“I won your stupid game.”

The realization hit you like a slap. “Oh, hell no—”

“Uh-uh,” she interrupted, cutting off your protests with a possessive kiss that left you breathless all over again. When she finally pulled back, her smug expression had you torn between wanting to strangle her and kiss her again.

“Face it,” Sevika said, her tone dripping with smug satisfaction as her hand trailed lazily up your spine. “You can’t resist me. You never could.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but the smug arch of her brow and the way her fingers tightened just enough on your waist shut you up fast. Damn her for being right.

Sevika’s laugh rumbled through her chest as she leaned back, utterly victorious. “That’s what I thought,” she said, her voice teasing as she rested her head against the back of the couch. “Guess that makes me the reigning champion, huh?”

You huffed, your pride smarting, but the way her arms tightened around you, grounding and comforting, made it impossible to stay mad.

“Fine,” you grumbled, resting your head against her chest. “But next time, I’m taking home the crown.”

“We’ll see, sweetheart,” Sevika murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple. “We’ll see.”

[tidesreach]

fuck it friday

tagged by @dangerpronebuddie <3 haven't done one of these in a while but. i started writing this one months ago and now i'm like. well wow. should really finish this because. eddie really might be going to texas. (part of the buck drowns fic btw)

Buck waits, chugs down some more wine while Maddie's eyes flicker over the letter, once, twice. Finally, she sets it down on the counter, looks up at Buck and says, "I think you need to go to El Paso." Somehow, all at once, it's exactly what Buck wants to hear, and exactly what he doesn't want to hear. There's a relief that washes over him, like a warm, sunlit wave. But then— "You think I don’t want to?" Buck says, sets his glass down. "God, Maddie. I feel like I—like I'm going five rounds in a ring with myself every day just to not get in my car and drive." "Okay." Maddie looks at him. Careful, soft, gaze intent. "So why don’t you?" "Because," Buck argues. Because. "Because he asked me not to." "Did he?" Maddie asks. She slides her fingers over the letter, delicately. Like it's something precious, like—like she knows it is. To Buck. Then pushes it back over to Buck's side of the counter. "Because I just read the note, Buck, and I don't think he did." Buck swallows, reaches for it, for those familiar creases, the distinct indent of Eddie's scrawl. Did he? "I–well, okay. Not–not specifically," he agrees. Because it wasn’t—Eddie didn't ask. But it was— "He said he needed time. So I can’t. I can't be this person, Maddie. This—this needy, clingy person who chases him across states. That's not who he needs me to be." "Or it's exactly who he needs you to be." Maddie covers his shaking hands. Shaking. God, when did they start shaking? "I think he needs you to go after him, and I think—" Maddie pauses, soft pads of her fingers pressing against Buck's skin. Then, "I think the only reason you haven't is because you're afraid you're not enough to bring him back." Buck shakes his head, can't quite make his throat and mouth work in tandem to refute her. The words twist and churn in his chest, his stomach. Like a pinwheel. Sometimes, it's uncomfortable, just how well Maddie knows him. "You—you really think I should go?" "Buck," Maddie says, then softer, "Evan," the way she used to say it when they were kids. When she needed him to hear what she meant. "This is a love letter. You do know that, don't you?"

tagging @thatbuddie @sibylsleaves @inell @absolutelybifurious @standback

[lyvhie]

the other way | zhong chenle

chenle x fem!reader summary: chenle finds you really endearing. c/w: fluff, very short because i'm sleepy 😴 a/n: because @sinisxtea broke my weak heart.

You like Chenle.

You like Chenle very, very much.

Everyone knows it, even Chenle himself, and that was just so amusing to him.

It was a delight for him to watch you try to hide your feelings when you were so obviously smitten. At first, he didn’t see you as his ideal type; to him, you were just a very… peculiar person who struggled to contain their emotions. But as he spent more time by your side each day, he couldn’t help but grow fond of you, inevitably developing feelings of his own.

Yet, how could he confess his feelings when it was so entertaining to watch you grow flustered after an affectionate gesture? Or when you gathered just enough courage to let your actions reveal what your words could not? He wasn’t ready to give up those moments, not yet. He wanted to savor them a little longer.

“Oh, I’m feeling so tired, Chenle,” you said with a dramatic sigh, letting your head tilt back slightly. He looked at you with a small, knowing smile and a raised eyebrow. By now, he was familiar with that tone—today, you were feeling bold.

The two of you were sitting side by side on the floor of a dimly lit practice room, the faint glow of city lights filtering through the large windows. The soft hum of a distant song played in the background. He had invited you to join him there after you texted him, saying you were bored, fully knowing you’d accept his invitation in a heartbeat.

“Hmm, really?” he replied, a teasing edge to his voice. “Why are you feeling tired when all you’ve done is sit there watching me practice the entire time?”

“I mean,” you cleared your throat, “i’m feeling so dizzy, Chenle,” you corrected yourself with another exaggerated sigh, earning a barely restrained laugh from him. How could you be this bad at lying?

“Oh no, dizzy?” a mock tone of concern in his voice. “What should we do now? Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” he leaned back, propping himself up on his hands, palms flat against the floor, his legs casually spread.

As he didn’t question you any further about your little lie, you didn’t feel the need to come up with more reasons or details to back it up. You simply watched him for a few seconds, quietly admiring his beauty. He was dressed in casual, comfortable clothes, perfect for moving around, though today he had spent more time talking and having fun with you than actually dancing. Even so, the simple sight of him made your heart race.

It wasn’t unusual for him to catch you admiring him like that. He didn’t mind; in fact, he liked it—a lot. It warmed his heart. He often found himself doing the same to you when you weren’t paying attention or when you were too absorbed, just like now. He loved noticing the little details about you: the way your lips would purse in excitement whenever he was nearby or when he complimented you, the way your pupils dilated when your eyes locked on him, the coy smile and soft giggles that followed his words. Everything about you was utterly endearing to him.

“I think it would help a lot if you let me rest here,” you said, pointing to his chest. “It’s just that lying down on the floor would be way too uncomfortable, you know…” you shrugged casually, as if it were no big deal.

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh, is that so?” he asked, leaning in slightly as if trying to gauge your true intentions. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable, of course.”

He shifted his position, leaning his back against the wall. Then, he patted his chest lightly, his arms opening in a small gesture of invitation. Naturally, he wouldn’t deny you something like that, he never had before. Whether it was letting you rest your head on his shoulder because “it hurts”, holding his hand because “it’s too cold”, or sticking close to his arm so “he wouldn’t get lost in a crowd”—he always let you.

You happily welcomed his words but tried to mask your excitement with a small pout, as if wanting to appear like a poor, sickly person. Without hesitation, you crawled into him, settling comfortably between his legs and resting your head on his chest. A delighted sigh escaped your lips at the feeling. You couldn’t wish for anything better, being this close to him, listening to his steady heartbeat, so calm and in contrast to your own, which was hammering against your chest.

The same held true for Chenle. He looked down at you, all cuddled up on him, with adoring eyes. His hands moved instinctively: one gently caressing your hair while the other traced slow, soothing motions up and down your back. Those small, tender gestures made you melt into him even more, and this time, he couldn’t hold back a soft chuckle. It was nice, having you like this.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked, the smile never leaving his face as he tilted his head slightly to have a better look of you. “Better?”

“I don’t think so,” you replied, your eyes closed and a serene expression spreading across your face. “I need to stay like this a bit longer.”

“Are you sure that wasn’t just an excuse to hug me?”

“No, no, of course not. Why would I do that?” you replied, not even bothering to make your words sound convincing.

He chuckled softly at your response, his hand still tracing gentle patterns on your back. “Hmm, I don’t know... Maybe because you like me?” he said with a teasing lilt, his voice dripping with playful confidence.

Your eyes shot open, and you quickly lifted your head to meet his gaze. “W-What? That’s not—” you began, but the smirk on his face told you he wasn’t buying it.

“Relax,” he said, cutting you off with a grin. “I’m just joking… unless?” His playful tone made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn’t help but bury your face back into his chest, groaning in embarrassment.

“Ah, stop teasing me,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his shirt.

How could he stop when you acted so adorably?

“Then, I guess you don’t like me at all, huh?” he said with a dramatic sigh, pretending to sound disappointed. You quickly caught on and lifted your head to look up at him again.

“I mean, I like you, yes, but not like… you know, the other way. Just the normal way,” you stammered, trying to explain, as you always did whenever he confronted you like this.

“You’re always saying you like me the normal way, but what even is this normal way?” he asked, pressing further. His hand moved to cup one side of your face, his thumb brushing absently against your cheek. The sudden gesture made your heart race, and you panicked slightly as you struggled to find the words to respond.

“Oh, just, you know, like, um, for example, like this and that and… you know, when we like something…” your voice trailed off, getting quieter with each word. You didn’t want him to think you didn’t like him in a romantic way, but you also didn’t want him thinking the opposite.

As you wrestled with your thoughts, Chenle could only gaze at you with those amused, affectionate eyes, taking in every detail. He watched the way you unconsciously leaned even more into his touch. His gaze drifted down to your lips—slightly parted and as inviting as ever, perhaps even more so now.

As mentioned before, it was fun keeping this friendship status between you two, he enjoyed teasing you and drawing out those adorable reactions. But now, you had him wondering: what would it be like if he finally let things happen? Would you be even messier than this?

He wanted to find out.

In a subtle movement, taking advantage of your distracted state, he leaned in and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to your lips. The sudden warmth and softness of his lips against yours made your eyes widen in surprise. You blinked a few times, your mouth slightly open in shock as you tried to process what had just happened. It was as if you were frozen in place, your heart pounding so fast you thought you might be on the verge of a heart attack.

“Oops, did I break you or something?” he teased, though his lighthearted words were tinged with genuine concern as he took in your stunned expression.

“Now I think I’m really dizzy,” you said, your lips trembling ever so slightly. “And this time, I think the only solution is another kiss,” you had no idea where this sudden burst of courage came from; you were simply blurting out words at this point.

It was Chenle’s turn to look at you with a surprised expression before suddenly bursting into laughter, leaving you feeling as though you’d just said something ridiculous.

“Why are you laughing…?” you asked, shrugging your shoulders and looking away, your stomach twisting with embarrassment. “You’re the one who started it.”

Instead of replying, he cupped your face in his hands, pulling you toward him in a fierce, urgent kiss. Your startled gasp was swallowed by his lips as his tongue gently explored your mouth, moving in soft, teasing caresses. You found yourself gripping his shirt tightly, your body melting into his, kissing him back without thinking. One of his hands slid down to your hips, pulling you even closer, pressing your body fully against his.

He hummed softly against your lips, finally giving in to something he had wanted for quite some time. It felt nice, better than he had imagined. The wait was worth it, especially if it was going to be like this.

He only pulled away because you did first, needing to catch your breath. Your lips were swollen and glistening slightly, and your breathless state, combined with the mix of confusion, satisfaction, happiness, and desire in your eyes, made his heart pound.

“I like you,” he said, slightly out of breath. “Not in the normal way. But the other way.”

There was no way you could be more surprised than you already were, so you just went with the flow, your mind too clouded to think before speaking.

“Me too,” you nodded fiercel. “I like you. So, so much. I really like you, Chenle.” It felt so nice to finally say that out loud, directly to him.

“I know you do,” he giggled, leaning in to plant another soft kiss on your lips. you could feel the warmth of his smile against your lips, and his fingers gently brushed your hair back, his touch as tender as ever.

He preferred to have you like that after all.

↝ taglist: @ldh0000

[dissapointu]

may i pretty pretty please request a healer!reader with ekko? like as the few traine medic in the hideout she's well versed in most kinds of injuries amd illnesses and ekko would just be in awe of them (lowk distractin her the fact he's wounded) but reader clocks that a mile away but plays along the bit anyways 🥺🥺🥺

(i need more love for my boy 🥺🫶🥺🫶)

healer!reader interacts with Ekko, and he tries to distract them despite being injured:

He needs more love. I agree 100%

————————————————————————

“Don’t worry, Ekko. I’ve got this.”

You said it with a steady confidence, your hands moving effortlessly over the medical supplies in front of you. You were one of the few trained medics in the hideout, and while most of the others could get by with basic first aid, you had seen your fair share of injuries—enough to know exactly what you were doing.

But of course, Ekko wasn’t making it easy. As you bandaged up his side, where a deep gash had appeared after a particularly rough skirmish, you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes kept flicking to your hands, the way he’d casually nudge his body closer to yours despite you having plenty of space. He was clearly trying to distract you.

“So, uh… you’re, like, really good at this,” Ekko said, his voice uncharacteristically light and teasing. His tone carried that playful edge that always seemed to slip in when he was trying to sidestep something.

You glanced at him, arching an eyebrow as you continued working. “I’m not new to this, Ekko. You’re not the first person I’ve patched up.”

His lips curled into a small grin, and he shifted on the table, deliberately stretching his arms out as though to demonstrate how ‘comfortable’ he was. “Yeah, but you make it look so easy. Like… it’s just natural for you, huh?”

You barely suppressed a smirk. “Well, it’s my job, Ekko. It’s what I do.”

But you knew the game he was playing. The way his eyes lingered on you, the way he made small talk when you were trying to focus—he was stalling, trying to make this moment last longer. His usual bravado was gone, replaced by a vulnerability he didn’t often show.

“I mean, you are amazing at this,” he continued, leaning back a little and looking up at the ceiling with a somewhat exaggerated sigh. “Like, not only are you super smart and capable, but you’ve got the whole… healer vibe. You know? Very soothing.”

You paused, your hands on the bandages, and narrowed your eyes. “Are you really trying to distract me right now, Ekko?”

His face turned a shade of red that you had to suppress a chuckle at. “What? No! I just… I’m just… you know… appreciating how good you are at this. It’s impressive.”

You smirked, catching his playful, slightly flustered expression. “Yeah, well, I can’t finish until I make sure this is all done right.” You applied a final wrap to his injury, pressing gently and ensuring everything was secure before giving him a pointed look. “Now, stop trying to distract me and let me finish.”

Ekko leaned in closer, his gaze softening despite the playful tone he’d been trying to keep up. “You know, I think I could just lie here all day if it meant I get to listen to you talk,” he admitted quietly, his earlier teasing tone slipping away.

You chuckled, carefully adjusting the bandages and checking for any signs of further injury. “You’re lucky I care about you, Ekko. Otherwise, I might just leave you here to suffer through your own flustered rambling.”

Ekko raised an eyebrow, leaning into your touch as you finished. “Hey, I’m not rambling. I’m just… appreciating the person who’s keeping me from bleeding out, that’s all.”

You met his gaze, your fingers brushing against his skin as you applied the final layer of bandages, ensuring his wound was properly treated. “Well, if you keep distracting me like this, I might start charging you extra for the therapy session.”

He chuckled, the familiar mischievous gleam returning to his eyes. “Guess I’ll just have to keep distracting you, then. Can’t let you have all the fun.”

As you finished the last few touches, you stepped back, looking at him with a small smile. “All done. You’re lucky I’m here, you know?”

Ekko sat up, his movements now much more fluid than they had been before. He gave you a genuine, soft smile that made your heart skip a beat. “I’m the lucky one, (Y/N). Thanks.”

And for a moment, despite his usual cocky charm, you could see it in his eyes: the deep admiration, the unspoken gratitude, the way he truly felt safe in your hands.

I hope this gave you the fluff and love for Ekko you were craving! 🫶💖

[ellecdc]

helllooo ! (first ask ever, actually, go me lol) I am requesting with your Winter Games :

🐻 here to hibernate - “oh god, did i fall asleep on you?!” from the sleepy list :)

with Regulus x reader? or Regulus x James if you’re looking for an actual ship like that :3

ily and I hope you’re doing well !! mwah

first ask ever, go you INDEED! thanks for the prompt, and for being here with me! <3

Regulus Black x Potter!reader who he falls asleep on [627 words]

CW: fem!reader, pranking, siblings, brief mention of Black family causing anxiety, fluff

Regulus had, admittedly, not been sleeping all that well leading up to the winter holidays. 

For better or for worse, Sirius had convinced him to rip the plaster off and join him at the Potter’s, if not permanently, then at least for the Christmas break. 

First, he hadn’t been sleeping well due to the stress of having to potentially return home for the holidays, then he hadn’t been sleeping well due to the stress of having to find some excuse that his parents would find believable to remain at school over the holidays, then he hadn’t been sleeping well due to the stress of how his parents might react to the news of him attending the Potter’s for the holidays, then he hadn’t been sleeping well due to the stress of having not gotten a response from them at all (the devil you know, and all that).

And finally, he hadn’t been sleeping well due to the stress of now having to celebrate the holidays with the Potter’s. Pointedly, perhaps, with you. 

So when he startled awake to the sound of the train compartment door closing - catching the tail end of his brother and his friends disappearing down the train’s corridors - to find himself having fallen asleep on your shoulder of all places, he was more than a little bit mortified. 

“Oh Merlin, did I fall asleep on you!?” He asked as he slid to the very opposite side of the bench to put some clearly well needed space between the two of you. 

“Just a little, it’s alright.” You offered with a shrug as you refused to look up from the book in your hand, though Regulus noted you take the opportunity to reposition to a more comfortable spot now that you wouldn’t risk waking him up. 

“M’so sorry.” He mumbled into his hands as he tried to wipe the residual lethargy from his face; an anxious, crackling energy bubbling from his chest to his fingertips. “I’ve not been sleeping well; this is so embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing,” you chuckled kindly, “you’re obviously tired, we’ve got a long train ride, might as well sleep, yeah?” 

You smiled gently, perhaps even shyly at him, before turning your face back to your book, though you didn’t appear to actually be reading it. 

“Where’d our brother’s go?” He asked after a few beats of silence; you looked up then, as if only now realising the compartment was empty.

“Oh, erm. I think they wanted to pull one last prank of the year; wanted to go out with a-”

But the end of your sentence was cut off by a loud bang that shook the seats beneath you two, followed by some groaning, shrieking, and cackling. 

You and Regulus shared a soft, breathy snicker of your own. 

“You didn’t feel like joining them?” He queried, quite certain he wasn’t mistaken when he noticed you flush.

“Erm, no; I was quite alright here.”

Your brother’s came crashing into the compartment then with Remus and Peter on their heels; breathless, laughing, and covered in a small dusting of red and green glitter. 

“That was a good one, Trouble.” Sirius proclaimed as he took a sloppy seat across from you. “Can’t believe you opted to sit here like Reggie’s personal glorified pillow instead of seeing it through.”

“Don’t tease her.” Remus chided quietly; likely quiet enough that you hadn’t heard, but Regulus had. 

“So,” Regulus drawled then, sharing a conspiratorial look with you. “I have this to look forward to all break?” 

Sirius scoffed in offence. “You should be so lucky, baby brother.” 

“Don’t worry,” you murmured quietly, “leaves us plenty of time to make them pay.” 

Regulus couldn’t help but wonder if - just maybe - holiday’s at the Potter’s wouldn’t be so bad.

[creamflix]

HI KASHI <33 hope you’re having a great day !! saw your requests are open so i’m here asking if you could write gojo and/or choso trying to take care of a sick fem!reader take your time ofc !! love you and your writing so much <33

content: established relationship with gojo & choso (seperate), no reader gender specified, reader is sick, fluff and crack thank u for the request ml. i was having a really tough day and writing this made me feel a whole lot better. hope you enjoy <3 — general masterlist ☆

when in doubt, mochi it out.

a slogan that makes no sense, but when it comes to your boyfriend, SATORU, nothing ever truly does. he is nothing if not persistent, committed to his very questionable ways of taking care of you. you're curled up on the couch, sniffling into your third tissue of the hour, bundled up in enough blankets to resemble a very grumpy burrito.

“mochi makes everything better,” he declares, brandishing the tray of snacks like it's a miracle cure. “don’t fight it. just let the healing power of dessert take over.”

you stare at him, eyes glassy from your cold. “it’s sugar and rice, toru. sugar. i’m pretty sure that’s the opposite of medicine.”

“ah ah ah, but you underestimate the psychological benefits,” he counters, shoving a fluffy piece of mochi dangerously close to your face. “studies show happiness boosts the immune system, and you can’t tell me you’re not happy when you see me. c'mooonnn. smile for the genius doctor.”

“you’re not a doctor.”

“not officially. but emotionally? i’ve got my phd in loving you.”

you groan, sinking further into your cocoon. “that doesn’t even —”

“ah-ah! don’t strain yourself, sweetheart,” he interrupts, pressing a finger to your lips with all the drama of a soap opera actor. “you need your energy to chew this delicious, healing mochi.”

you cough pointedly, aiming it at him. he doesn’t flinch.

“cute,” he grins. “see? that’s already a 5% improvement. now, let’s move on to phase two of my revolutionary treatment plan: satoru’s patented personal heater.”

before you can protest, he’s wedging himself onto the couch beside you, all long limbs and ridiculous confidence. he wraps himself around you like a clingy octopus, radiating an absurd amount of heat. it would be sweet if he wasn’t crushing you under his weight.

“satoru,” you wheeze, “i can’t breathe.”

“that’s the illness talking. it’s fine. i’m a doctor, remember?”

you somehow manage to elbow him in the ribs, and he laughs, pulling back just enough to give you some air. “okay, okay. personal heater mode: adjusted.”

he adjusts the blanket around you, tucking it in like you’re a patient in some bizarre spa. “better?”

you nod grudgingly, but the relief doesn’t last. he’s back to poking and prodding at you almost immediately.

“you know, this could’ve all been avoided if you wore my scarf last week,” he muses, squinting at you like a disappointed parent. “but noooo, ‘i don’t need it, toru, it’s not that cold.’ and now look at you. tragic.”

“you sound like nanami,” you mutter, voice muffled by your blanket fortress.

he gasps like you’ve mortally wounded him. “take that back. i’m fun. i brought snacks!”

“i don’t want snacks, i want soup.”

“soup's for the weak. mochi's for winners.”

you groan again, though you can’t entirely suppress the smile tugging at your lips. satoru catches it immediately, of course.

“ah, see? the mochi's working! admit it, i’m the best boyfriend ever.”

“you’re insufferable,” you mumble, but the affection in your voice is impossible to hide.

“that’s just the fever talking.” he boops your nose with one of the little mochi pieces before popping it into his mouth, looking far too pleased with himself.

he leans back, pulling you closer against him. “you know, they say laughter is the best medicine. so technicallyyy, i’m already curing you.”

“does that mean you’ll stop with the jokes?”

“never. but i will feed you the cough syrup if you ask nicely. i might even do the airplane noise if you’re extra sweet.”

you throw another tissue at his face. he dodges it with a laugh, catching it mid-air.

“you loooovvve me,” he sing-songs, wrapping his arms around you again.

you sigh, leaning into him despite yourself. “unfortunately.”

“and that’s why you’ll live to see another day,” he grins, pressing a kiss to your temple. “now, how about i grab some soup and mochi? compromise is key, after all.”

CHOSO genuinely looks like he’s seen a ghost, which is almost ironic because you’re the one that feels like death warmed over. his wide eyes are glued to your flushed face, and it’s clear that his brain is short-circuiting.

“are you... okay?” he asks, voice just above a whisper, like raising it might make you crumble into dust.

“it’s just a cold, cho,” you rasp, reaching out to reassure him. but he takes an immediate, panicked step back, hands flying up in surrender.

“yuuji said humans are fragile when they’re sick,” he mutters, gaze flickering nervously between you and the floor. “and you look...fragile.”

“i’m not going to break.”

“but what if you do?” he blurts, voice cracking slightly, and you can’t help but blink at him in disbelief. choso isn’t usually one to panic, but apparently, the idea of you being sick has completely thrown him off balance.

when you ask for medicine, he darts away like a frightened deer and returns seconds later with a blister pack and a bottle of water. he leaves them on the coffee table before retreating again, this time halfway across the room.

“choooo,” you groan, flopping onto the couch. “you’re making it weird.”

“i’m not trying to,” he mumbles, standing stiffly like he’s trying to work out the math of the optimal distance to keep from you. “is this... far enough?”

“you’re acting like i’m contagious.”

“are you not?”

“you’re half a curse! pretty sure you’re immune!” you glare at him weakly. “you won’t catch my cold. i just want you to sit with me. please.”

his brow furrows, and you can practically see the gears turning. the logical part of him is probably agreeing with you, but the overprotective boyfriend part — the part yuuji apparently filled with all kinds of advice — looks terrified.

“...okay,” he says at last, hesitantly moving toward you like he’s approaching a sleeping bear. “but if you start looking worse, i’m calling yuuji.”

you laugh, but it quickly turns into a coughing fit. immediately, choso panics again. “do you need something? tea? soup? a doctor? i can go get someone —”

“cho,” you wheeze, waving him down. “soup sounds nice. just grab it from the kitchen.”

he’s off like a shot, and you can hear him fumbling around in the kitchen for a while before he reappears, carefully balancing a steaming bowl. this time, he doesn’t put it down and bolt. instead, he sits down next to you, though he still leaves a noticeable gap.

“do you want me to... feed it to you?” he asks awkwardly, holding the spoon like it might bite him.

you bite back a grin. “’s okay, cho. i can manage.”

he looks relieved but still watches you like a hawk as you eat, ready to spring into action at the slightest sign of distress. and honestly? it’s kinda sweet. sure, he’s overthinking everything, but his concern is endearing.

“thanks for taking care of me,” you say softly, leaning against him once you’ve finished. he stiffens for a moment but doesn’t pull away, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

“yuuji said that’s what you’re supposed to do for the people you care about,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper.

“he also probably didn’t tell you to act like i’m radioactive.”

“...no.”

you chuckle, feeling a little better already.

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[mizusugii]

lace-y 𐙚 (sam winchester x reader)

↳ you were alone in the bunker with sam and having a movie night with him... while wearing a really pretty white, lace-y lingerie set and one of his oversized tees. what could go wrong!

↳ cw: nsfw (MINORS DNI!!), smut, fem/afab!reader, fingering, reader is e@ten out, little bit of praise (and this is my first time writing nsfw so maybe that should be its own warning!)

You pushed the door of the bunker open, letting the cold night air whip through your hair before stepping into the warmth and sighing with relief. Sam followed close behind you, closing and locking the door as you made your way down the stairs. You and him were coming back from a hunt alone, since Dean and Cas were busy with their own side mission. You didn’t mind at all- it gave you more solo time with your favorite person. As you reached the bottom of the stairwell, you tossed your bag and keys to the table, noting how your belongings nearly knocked over one of the beer bottles Dean left out. You made a mental note to clean up… tomorrow. You were too spent to do it tonight. 

The two of you made your way to Sam’s room. You had your own room, of course- the bunker has, like, 84 of them after all- but you had agreed to watch some Netflix together after getting back as a little reward for your efforts. As you got into his room, you smiled. His room always felt so cozy. After he moved in, he slowly made himself at home… a couple books piled on his desk, a few posters from his favorite movies, and a whole lot of flannels on a rack that you liked to occasionally steal from. In all fairness, there’s no way he needs all of them. But there he was- shedding his Carhart jacket off just to reveal yet another flannel, this one a nice burgundy color. He threw the jacket onto a nearby armchair and watched as you did the same with yours, now in a long sleeve shirt and jeans. It wasn’t exactly the cutest outfit, but you couldn’t wear your cute outfits out on hunts where you needed to actually be able to bend over or get dirty. You did note some stains on your outfit, and you wanted nothing more then to change into something cleaner and comfier, but your PJs were all the way in your room…

“Hey Sam, do you have a shirt I could borrow?” You asked as he settled into bed, leaning against the bed frame.

“Uhhh yeah, they’re in the second drawer down, take whatever you want.” He smiled before pulling out his phone. You thanked him and went into his wooden dresser to find a shirt. He had a lot of plain white tees for layering, but when you dug a bit deeper you found some of his older stuff. You grinned when you landed on a gray Stanford shirt, and you pulled it out. Sam was tall enough where any of his shirts fit you like a dress. Without much thinking, you started tugging your own shirt off over your head right in front of him. Sam noticed it and tried not to stare- bless his heart, he really did try- but he couldn’t help but notice the lace white bra you had on. He felt his face heat up and he felt bad for staring, his eyes darting back to his phone as you pulled his oversized shirt over yourself and discarded your pants. After you were all adjusted, you climbed into the bed with him and grabbed the remote off the bedside table. 

“What do you wanna watch?” You asked, already beginning to scroll through movies. You were sitting fairly close, curled up beside him with your thighs just inches away from touching his. 

“Uhhh…” He trailed off, trying to compose himself. 

“You’re never helpful with this, you know.” You rolled your eyes but smiled. You landed on some cheesy horror movie with a god-awful cover and clicked on it. You always found those types of horror movies ironic, given your job as a hunter. Some horribly CGI’d ghost haunting a B-list actress who runs away in heels and trips over herself like every seven seconds… sometimes it felt more like a parody movie.

“Interesting choice.” He quipped as the movie began. You laughed and looked over at him, your head resting against one of the propped up pillows. 

“Hey, if you have a problem with it, then your indecisive ass can change it.” You said. He shook his head silently and leaned back a little bit more.

“No, it’s perfect.” He said. You smiled and returned your gaze to the TV as the camera slowly zoomed out on a dilapidated house in the middle of a forest. You both watched in silence, occasionally scoffing at the horrible effects and dialogue. As the movie went on, you both slowly got more comfortable. At some point, you adjusted and ended up with your right thigh touching his leg. He pretended to not notice, but when you lifted your arms to stretch about 20 minutes into the film, your (or rather, his) shirt rode up a bit and the slightest bit of lace peeked through on your inner thigh. Where there were endless comments and critiques from the two of you before, you noticed he started to go silent, and his eyes were glued to the TV like he would be stricken down on the spot if he dared to look away. 

Your little comments went unnoticed, and you couldn’t help but wonder if something was wrong. After another 10 minutes of painful silence, you finally tugged on his arm a bit to get his attention. 

His eyes flicked in your direction before returning back to the TV. “Yeah?”

“Is something up?” You asked, trying to get even a little bit of eye contact. He made a slight frown and shook his head, eyes still watching the shitty flick in front of him. 

“M-m.” He hummed, hands moving to fidget with the hem of his comforter. You furrowed your brows and reached for the remote, pausing the movie.

“I don’t believe you.” You responded. He just kept staring straight, trying to think of something to say. 

“Hey, can you look at me?” You asked, just a bit frustrated as he seemed to have an aversion to turning to face you. 

He took a small breath before turning his head, eyes immediately darting to your bare thighs before dragging up to your face.

Oh. Oh. 

“Oh uhm… Sorry.” You said sheepishly, now embarrassed. You tried to move your hand to pull the shirt down, but his hand caught yours. You looked up to him in confusion.

He held it there wordlessly, and you could see something change in his eyes. Where he was avoidant and cold before, there was a sort of glint in his pupils, and his attention couldn’t be further away from the TV now. You felt your face flush, and you bit the inside of your cheek, attempting to make the tension dissipate. You saw him glance at your cherry glossed lips, and you almost laughed because he obviously wanted to make a move but was stuck like a deer in headlights.

You moved in slowly until your lips connected, feeling him nearly jolt at the contact. You lingered there for a few seconds before pulling back. 

“Is this okay?” You asked quietly, making sure he was comfortable. He nodded slowly, and this time he leaned forward, connecting your lips again. His hand that once had an iron grip on yours now moved to your cheek, holding you gently in place. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss as his calloused hand moved across your jaw. You’re not sure why you decided to go with the white lace lingerie this morning, but you’re so grateful you did- it saved you from a whole lot more of silent pining. The kiss deepened, and as it got more passionate you slowly moved so that you were straddling his lap, never breaking your connection. His hand dropped from your face and as you pulled away you saw him go still, feeling him harden beneath you. 

It wasn’t that he was ravenous... but there was a sudden sense of desperation as he kissed you again on the lips, and you couldn’t help slowly grinding across his middle. He let out a soft groan before his lips slowly moved to your jaw, then your neck. That shy boy from just seconds ago was gone. You threw your head back a bit, giving him more access. He moved his lips all around your neck, occasionally sucking on your sensitive skin. You felt every sense heighten- his mouth marking your neck, the friction between your thin panties and thick denim, his rough fingers starting to pull at the material of your shirt…

Speaking of which, he lifted the shirt over your head, quickly breaking away from your neck to pull the fabric over your face. As he threw the shirt behind you, his eyes roamed over your body. He could finally see the full set of thin lace white lingerie adorned with small satin bows, the underwear riding up your sides as your legs straddled his. His racing thoughts stilled, and he just sat there looking at you like if he moved, he’d lose his perfect view. When you shifted forward a bit, his trance was broken, and the sensation caused him to immediately attach his lips back on to yours. Your small whimpers fueled his hunger, and he gently pushed forwards, sending you backwards so that your head was hitting the mattress behind you. He was now hovering over you, still kissing you and softly pulling at your glossy lips with his teeth. His lips moved slowly down your face, onto your neck where he kissed a few of his marks from earlier, across your chest between your cupped breasts, down your tummy and ghosting just above where your underwear covered you. You looked down to see his face just above your core, looking into your eyes with caution, silently asking for permission. Your short nod was all he needed, and he gently looped his fingers around the waistband and pulled the panties off and down your legs. You felt your heart race when he gently pushed your soft thighs apart, baring yourself in a way that might have felt embarrassing if he wasn’t practically drooling at the sight.

He ignored his urges and started slowly, kissing up your plush thigh. The sensation of him just inches away from where you needed him most, blended with his hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin was driving you crazy. You needed something, now. 

“Sam..” You whimpered, voice shaking with anticipation. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” He looked up with lust-blown eyes, cheek resting on your left thigh.

“Please…” You begged weakly, squirming a bit.

You didn’t have to voice what you wanted. He smiled sweetly at you before moving to your core, gently pushing his tongue past your folds. You gasped and your hands clumsily fumbled around the sheets until they landed on the back of his head, fingers hooking into his soft hair. He lapped at your clit, and you wondered how the hell his brother got all the credit for being a “pussy magnet” when he was eating you out like a damn professional. His breath fanned over your hot, wet core, causing you to grip his chestnut hair tighter. He groaned, causing vibrations that only added to your intense pleasure.

“Fuck…” You hissed, hips slightly rolling. One of the hands that was currently holding your thighs apart slowly moved upward towards your waist in an attempt to keep you (relatively) in place. His tongue, slick with your arousal, was driving you crazy, and your soft moans and whimpers made him work even faster until you were nearing the edge. 

Then you felt one of his hands trail up your thigh, and two long fingers gently prodded at your entrance. You gasped at the feeling as they gathered arousal and slipped effortlessly inside you, his tongue still working at your puffy clit. You were blissed out, softly moaning his name as he worked his impossibly long fingers in and out of you. Your breaths got short and your hips rutted up, and he knew you were close. He pulled his mouth off your core, but kept his fingers at a steady pace, looking up at you for the first time in a while as your hand dropped off the back of his head and onto his shoulder, gripping for dear life.

“That’s it pretty girl, I got you.” He praised, using his free hand to rub gentle circles into your waist. As his pace quickened, you whined his name and felt the pressure in your lower half snap, moaning as you climaxed. Your eyes shut closed, and your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. He slowly pulled his fingers out as you were still coming down, and the hand that wasn’t coated in slick was reaching up to brush your hair out of your face.

“You okay hon?” He asked, climbing up to kiss you on the forehead. Your face was completely flush, and your hair was a bit of a mess from writhing around on the pillow. You looked up into his eyes and smiled at his gentleness, and you nodded slowly. 

“Felt really good..” You mumbled, still somewhat incoherent as you recovered. He smiled back and kissed you gently.

“You look so cute in white, you know…”

↳ a/n: hiii! this is my first time writing nsfw so please be gentle w me :,) i have no idea what i'm doing even though my tumblr history would say otherwise... anyways i have a bit of free time between now and finals- send requests! thank u for reading lovelies <3